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olive-main · 1 month ago

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Hi hi! Ive just stumbled across your writing and i adore it so much! You capture Azriel so perfectly!! I don't really have much of a specific request in mind (but trust me, I'll think of one and come back if that's okay??) But could I ask for something with our Az and a super strong, independent, sarcastic reader. I just love the idea of totally smitten Azriel and just all the fluff. I'm so sorry this is so vague but

Happy holidays!!

No Damsels Here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A fiesty Valkyrie with a sharp wit and the brooding Shadowsinger find their lives slowly intertwined through training, quiet moments, and unexpected gestures, leading them to realize there may be a growing connection they can no longer ignore.

Wc: 2.7k

A/N: Ok be honest, did you hack into my account and read my drafts bcs….I had just the fic for this request rotting for far too long. I hope you enjoy, it’s not my fav since I think my writing is better now hence why it’s been in my drafts lol and it’s like semi proofread—BUT thanks to this request y’all get more fluff. Everyone say thank you! :b

Masterlist

——

The morning air is cool and sharp, biting at your skin as you jog toward the training ring, late as usual. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, its rays barely spilling over the horizon, but Nesta is already there stretching, as she is every morning. Ever the Valkyrie.

“You’re late,” she remarks as you step onto the mat beside her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tying your hair back. “Besides, I needed an extra five minutes of sleep. Someone decided to keep me up last night with her endless talking about smutty romance novels.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Don’t act as if you’re not interested in my books.”

Before you can retort, Cassian’s booming voice cuts through the quiet. “Alright, enough about your romance book things. You’re here to train, not gossip.”

You glance over the training grounds, your eyes instinctively flicking toward the familiar figure standing on the far edge of the ring. Azriel is adjusting the strap of his leathers, his wings half-furled behind him as he surveys the weapons laid out with his usual quiet focus.

Nesta catches the direction of your gaze and nudges you with her elbow. “Still brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s not brooding,” you reply, a little too defensively. “He’s… serious.”

Nesta gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further as Cassian begins pairing everyone off for sparring.

“Y/N,” Cassian calls, grinning wickedly. “You’re with Azriel today.”

You blink, trying not to focus on how your heart jumped. Across the ring, Azriel’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

—

Sparring with Azriel is both exhilarating and frustrating. He’s fast—almost impossibly so—and he moves with a precision that leaves no openings. You’re strong and quick on your feet, but against Azriel, every strike feels like a gamble.

“You’re hesitating,” he murmurs, dodging your swing with ease.

“I’m calculating,” you snap back, twisting to block his next move.

His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“And you’re talking too much,” you retort, aiming a strike at his side.

He blocks it effortlessly, his wings shifting slightly as he steps into your space. For a moment, you’re close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something darker, something so distinctly him.

“Focus,” he says, his voice low and even, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens.

But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you smirk and lunge to the left before sweeping his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a soft thud, his wings flaring slightly to cushion the fall.

“Gotcha,” you say, planting your hands on your hips.

Azriel props himself up on one elbow, looking up at you with an expression that’s almost impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echo, laughing. “That was a textbook takedown.”

From across the ring, Cassian claps his hands. “That’s my girl! Show him who’s boss, Y/N!”

You smile proudly at Cassian, bowing exaggeratedly before turning back to Azriel with a proud smirk.

“Again?” he asks, his tone calm but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Obviously,” you reply, and the sparring begins anew.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the ring after the session, toweling the sweat from your face as the others disperse. Nesta sits beside you, nursing a bottle of water and watching Azriel, who’s speaking quietly with Cassian.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nesta says, breaking the silence.

You choke on your water. “What?”

Nesta gives you a look, one brow arched in that infuriatingly smug way of hers. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been watching you all morning.”

“He watches everyone,” you argue, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Not like this,” Nesta counters. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s different.”

You shake your head, refusing to entertain the idea. “He’s just… observant. It’s his job.”

Nesta doesn’t respond, but her silence is louder than words.

—

Over the next few weeks, you start to notice the little things. The way Azriel lingers near you during training, offering quiet pointers or stepping in to demonstrate a move. The way he always seems to know when you’re pushing yourself too hard, handing you a water bottle or calling for a break just as your muscles start to protest.

And then there are the gloves. The day before you’d worn down your leather gloves to their last seam, small tears at the knuckles.

You find them waiting for you one morning, neatly folded and left on the bench where you always sit. They’re sleek and well-crafted, the leather soft and pliable. With your name written on a piece of parchment laid neatly on them, in his writing.

“Nice gloves,” Nesta remarks as you slip them on.

“They’re… new,” you say, frowning slightly.

“Azriel left them,” she says, her tone far too casual.

You freeze, glancing at her. “How do you know that?”

Nesta smirks. “Because I saw him put them there.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Azriel approaches, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Do they fit?” he asks, his gaze flicking to the gloves.

You nod, flexing your fingers. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

He inclines his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile before he turns and walks away.

“Hopeless,” Nesta mutters under her breath, but you don’t bother arguing this time.

—

It’s late one evening when Azriel finds you sitting on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the twinkling lights of Velaris below.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft as he steps into the night air.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised but not unwelcome. “Something like that.”

He leans against the railing beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him. For a while, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching between you like a warm blanket.

Finally, Azriel breaks the silence. “Something is on your mind”

“Oh? Am I that easy to see through Shadowsinger?” you ask, turning to face him.

“No, not always” he says, his hazel eyes meeting yours. “But you only come out here when something is.”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. But before you can, he continues, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you ever want to, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his tone takes you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turns back to the view.

The silence stretches, comfortable but crackling with unspoken words. You lean your elbows on the railing, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Azriel doesn’t move, his presence steady beside you, a quiet sort of comfort.

“So,” you say at last, breaking the stillness. “Is brooding a full-time job for you, or do you just do it in your free time?”

His lips twitch, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the city below. “Depends. Are you asking because you want tips?”

A laugh escapes you, sharp and unrestrained. “Please, I could out-brood you any day of the week.”

Azriel turns his head slightly, enough that you can see the amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will,” you quip, straightening up and crossing your arms. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in the shadows.”

“I don’t cry,” he replies smoothly, his expression as impassive as ever.

You snort, shaking your head. “No, of course not. The great spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t have emotions, right?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and for a moment, you swear you see something softer beneath the usual calm exterior.

“Wrong,” he says quietly.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. Before you can respond, Azriel shifts, his wings rustling softly as he straightens.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and even.

“Sure,” you reply, recovering quickly. “I’ll need it for when I take you down in training tomorrow.”

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before he disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

—

The next morning, you’re determined to shake off the lingering feelings from last night. You throw yourself into training with a vengeance, sparring with Nesta and Cassian until your muscles burn and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t ignore the fact that Azriel’s eyes are on you. He’s not overt about it, of course—he never is. But you’ve gotten good at reading him.

“Do you think he’s capable of blinking?” you mutter to Nesta during a break, jerking your chin in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta smirks, following your gaze. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Hardly,” you scoff. “I just don’t want him pulling something from all that intense staring.”

“Maybe he’s impressed,” Nesta says, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes. “He’s impressed by my fighting skills, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Obviously,” Nesta echoes, her smirk growing.

“Don’t start,” you warn, grabbing your water bottle.

Nesta raises her hands in mock surrender, but you can see the gleam in her eye.

—

After training, you’re stretching near the edge of the ring when Azriel approaches. You glance up, noting the slight crease in his brow as he surveys the scrape on your arm.

“You should get that looked at,” he says, nodding toward the cut.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “Barely a scratch.”

Azriel doesn’t look convinced. He crouches beside you, pulling a small vial of salve from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm.

You consider protesting, but the look in his eyes stops you. So instead, you sit there, watching as his fingers work with careful precision, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve fussed over me this week,” you say, breaking the silence. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Azriel doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Is it working?”

The question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. So instead, you settle for sarcasm.

“Not yet,” you say, grinning. “But keep trying. You might get there eventually.”

His quiet laugh sends warmth curling through your chest, and as he finishes wrapping your arm, you find yourself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

—

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen with Nesta, raiding the cabinets for a late-night snack.

“So,” she says casually, popping a grape into her mouth. “What’s going on with you and Azriel?”

You freeze mid-reach, turning to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Nesta shrugs, far too nonchalant. “I mean, he practically hovered over you all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice him patching you up earlier.”

“It was a cut,” you say defensively. “Hardly life-threatening.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta leans against the counter, studying you with those sharp eyes of hers. “And the gloves? Or the way he’s always watching you during training?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m really not,” Nesta replies, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

“Well, even if he does… like me, that’s his problem,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet.”

“No,” Nesta agrees, smirking. “But maybe you’re someone who could use a little… sweeping.”

You throw a grape at her, and she laughs, ducking out of the way.

—

The realization of Azriel’s attention lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You try to shake it off—try to convince yourself that it’s just his nature to watch everyone, to care quietly. But there’s a warmth to his gaze when it falls on you, a softness that feels different, deliberate.

And once you notice it, you can’t stop seeing it.

Like during training the next day, when Cassian barks at everyone to do laps. You’re running alongside Nesta, your legs burning and breath hitching, when Azriel quietly falls into step beside you.

“Don’t overthink your breathing,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m not overthinking it.”

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly. “You were counting your breaths.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone laced with mock offense. “You’re watching me breathe now? That’s not creepy at all.”

Azriel doesn’t rise to the bait, but the faintest smirk graces his lips. “Just trying to help.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But when you refocus on your breathing, following his advice, the run feels a little easier.

—

A few days later, you find yourself in the House of Wind’s library, searching for a book Nesta recommended, the one she had mentioned to you a few days ago. You’re muttering under your breath, cursing the ridiculously high shelves, when a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Need help?”

You whirl around to find Azriel standing there, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Not unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Azriel steps closer, his wings shifting as he glances up at the shelf. “Which one?”

You point to the book near the top, and without a word, Azriel extends a wing, brushing it against the shelf as he pulls the book down with practiced ease.

He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “There.”

You take the book, trying not to let the warmth of his touch distract you. “Thanks. I guess having wings is good for more than just flying, huh?”

His smile widens slightly. “They’re versatile.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to your tone.

Azriel doesn’t respond, just tilts his head as if studying you. The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on behind those hazel eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask finally, your voice sharper than you intend.

Azriel blinks, as though pulled from his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitates, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Maybe I am.”

Before you can press him further, he nods toward the book in your hands. “Enjoy your reading.” And then he’s gone, slipping back into the shadows as easily as he came.

—

The tension between you grows, subtle but undeniable. It’s not something you can ignore anymore—not when his gaze lingers just a second too long, or when his words carry a weight you can’t quite name.

One evening, after another long day of training, you find yourself wandering the halls of the House of Wind. You end up on the same balcony where Azriel joined you that night, the city lights below twinkling like stars.

You’re not surprised when he appears again, his presence so quiet you almost don’t notice until he’s standing beside you.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask, glancing at him.

“Rarely,” he admits, his voice soft.

“Figures,” you mutter, leaning against the railing.

The silence stretches, but this time, it feels charged, as though both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Azriel breaks the quiet. “You confuse me.”

You blink, turning to face him. “What?”

“You’re strong, stubborn, sarcastic…” He trails off, his lips curving slightly. “But you care. Even when you try not to show it.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his gaze meeting yours, “that you make it very difficult to stay in the shadows.”

His words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. You’re too busy trying to process the way your heart is racing, the way his eyes seem to see straight through you.

“Well,” you say finally, your voice quieter than usual. “Maybe it’s time you stepped out of them.”

Azriel’s smile is small, but it’s real. And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, you feel something shift between both of you—something neither of you are sure you can ignore anymore. Not when he feels that golden thread that glows in his chest, connecting his soul to yours.

——

Are y’all interested in a tag list?? I’m gonna be more consistent in posting hehe.

Thank you for reading my lovely humans. Requests are still very open ;)

#oneshots #scenarios #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.

Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day

—Digging Gaze

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt.

Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason.

A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance.

So that left you here.

You were pregnant.

You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test.

Pregnant.

It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course.

But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.

And you wouldn’t put this on him.

At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face.

“Johnny?” You ask, blinking.

The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.

“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—”

The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave.

“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.”

You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”

Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant.

Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.

“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”

“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”

“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you.

“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”

“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”

“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”

“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”

In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.

And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.

Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.

The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else.

You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink.

“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.

Damn that Scot.

“Eight and a half,” you say quietly.

Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause.

“When’s the next appointment—”

“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”

Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you.

Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.

“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”

“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.”

“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”

“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”

Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.

A daughter.

But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either.

This was new territory.

“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath.

“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”

“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.

You had more self-respect than that.

“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer.

Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon.

You frown.

You huff.

And you open the door wider.

“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”

The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.

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oh-no-its-bird · 4 months ago

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Fic where the unjust death of the Uchiha and the subsequent horrific abuse to their bodies via blatant and indiscriminant eye theft results in Konoha being haunted by the spirits of several very angry Uchiha.

"You know... They say that so long as an Uchiha's eyes do not rest in their body, their spirit will never find peace."

When the husk of a woman who used to be Mikoto smiles, there is blood in her teeth.

"What do you think, Elder Danzo?"

Ft.

- Sasuke being repeatedly lured into the woods by the ghosts of his family (and notably, his parents) both bc some want to protect him and some, not powerful enough to retain their sanity in death, wish for him to die so they might take their eyes as their own

- Nara Shikaku, among others in the Hokage's tower, being repeatedly faced with the unsettlingly eyeless ghost of Fugaku as he appears sporadically and attempting to act as if nothing is wrong— always dissapearing when someone questions how he is there (whether he truly seems to keep forgetting that he has died is unclear, but no methods to purge the offices seems able to keep him away for long)

- the spirit of Mikoto taking on a spokesperson role for the dead, as she seems to have been the one to retain the most of herself in death while plagued with the corruptive everything that comes with being a spirit tied to the earth through nefarious means (with Fugaku being a potential second— if he wasn't so busy w convincing himself he hadn't died at all)

- Danzo being haunted by the more mindlessly violent Uchiha ghosts, driven mad in the afterlife at seeing their eyes in his unworthy flesh

- A surprisingly sane Kagami who has Thoughts and Feelings ab Danzo taking his eye— and the mystery of how exactly he had died

- A suddenly the most qualified person to deal with ghosts Kakashi, who's unfortunatley doomed both attract and to be able to see the Uchiha ghosts with his sharingan, and has them breathing down the back of his neck with talk of watching after Sasuke and GETTING REVENGE !!!!!!!!!!!!! which he is legally obligated to do now as the elder ghosts deem his service as their conduit to be his duty, since they gave him a pass on the eye thing. There's a lot of "see I TOLD you it was a good idea to let him keep the eye!! Clearly Amaterasu has left him here for us to use in our darkest of hours"

Aka forcefully adopted by Uchiha ghosts Kakashi who's "adoption" reads a little more like "indentured servitude to the afterlife"

(And he can't help but wonder why he hasn't seen Obito's ghost, after so many years with his eye in his head...

- Itachi being absoloutley hounded by the guilt of what hes done and the spirits of those hes killed, whove left the haunting of Konoha specifically to haunt him (He is not having fun) (The ghost of Shisui is doing his best to ward away the more volatile ones)

And more !!! Potentially, idk. This would be a fun one if I wrote it but I will not. Someone totally should tho , just, not me.

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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago

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Shakin’ (Ghost x Reader.)

!I aged Simon up a bit for this chapter. He’s around 44. Smut, unprotected p in v sex, (wrap it up-_-) military talk, teasing, you know the drill babes, absolutely NO MINORS, enjoy!

(Bc I bet Simon totally listened to Eddie Money when he was a teen XD. Obvi my song inspo is Shakin’ by Eddie Money.)

At this point, everything he did was routine. 141 had Simon busy most of the time so he didn’t spend too much time off base anymore. He had nothing better to do, the most exciting thing he did was stop by a bar with Johnny and Price. That was it. A round of new recruits were coming and this was always the hardest part, getting used to the newbies. Because some of them were insufferable. Ghost liked to be left alone. But the new recruits were always all over him. Trying to make friends and be nice and ask for advice which he didn’t mind, not at all. But sometimes he’d just want to be left alone.

For some reason, there weren’t many women on base. Aside from a couple that didn’t work out for… inappropriate reasons. There was no one but Laswell around.

“Ghost.” The scot accent pierces his ears and he turns to see Soap approaching with a girl by his side. “This is Y/N. She’s one of the new recruits.” He tilts his head to you. Ghost nods his head. “Hi.” You send a small wave his way. “Hey.” He says. “See, he doesn’t bite.” Soap laughs. “No, but I might.” You smile. Your sly smile pierces Simon right to his core, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. As you walked away with Johnny, he wondered what the hell that was.

He didn’t know it, but it was the start of something special.

You settle in pretty quickly and Ghost sees how well you and Johnny get along together. He sees the both of you together quite often. Ghost worried about him catching feelings for you, and having you turn out to be like every other girl that’s come onto this base. A barracks bunny.

His worries all came to an end when he watched you resist every guy on base. Seriously, they’ll hit on you while you’re sitting across from the both of them and you’ll have to spin around and tell them to piss off.

You’re usually eating, listening to something Soap is saying and someone will walk up behind you and start trying to flirt with you. He can see the immediate anger on your face, wanting to be left alone.

Something Ghost didn’t expect is the both of you to start spending time together. Without Johnny around. You were a productive soldier. Always offering to help, always busy doing something around the base. You hardly ever complained about something and when you did it’s usually because you hurt in some kind of way. Which he understood all too well. You always offered to help him with anything he was doing. Jumping right up when he was going to do some heavy lifting. So the two of you started hanging out and doing those things together like it was second nature. A routine. Ghost started catching feelings for you pretty quickly and he tried to avoid it.

Especially after he found out how young you were.

You followed him out to load up the Humvee, and you spoke about your parents. Something about the age of your mum made Simon perk up. “Wait. How old are you?” He asks. You smile. “Why you want to know?” You smirk. “Because it sounds like your mum is about the same age as me and that means you’re really young.” He freezes up. “Yeah, I’m 21.” His eyes widen. “Jesus Christ. You do not look that young. You’re really mature for your age.” He mumbles, tossing a box into the back of the Humvee. He hears you chuckle. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But.. age doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” The slyness of your words have the hair on his neck standing up. “Yeah right, I’m old enough to be your dad.” He rolls his eyes.

You set a box down, only maybe a foot away from him. “Doesn’t scare me.” You smile. Stepping away from him. What exactly did you mean by that? Were you… flirting with him?

—

“Rosanna’s daddy had a car she loved to drive.” You mumble out the lyrics as you pass by Ghost. You don’t see him yet but he’s there. As soon as those lyrics hit his ears, he smiles. Reminding him of when he was a teenager, being crazy. Something he didn’t seem to think about too often anymore. “Stole the keys one night and took me for a ride.”

“Fuck.” You mutter as the box splits open, the contents of it falling out the bottom. Ghost steps out of the darkness. “What you singing there sweetheart?”

You jump when you hear him behind. “Jesus Christ.” You breathe. Tugging an earbud out of one of your ears. “Gave me a heart attack.” You laugh. Theres something inside of him brewing. Looking at you now, he knows there’s no going back.

He can only pray Johnny has no feelings for you, because there’s no going back. “Price told me to get you and check out some surrounding areas. Take the Humvee.” He nods. “Really?” You ask. He nods his head, lying through his teeth. What Price doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He could still hear your music through your earbuds.

“Turned up the music just as loud as it could go, blew out the speakers in her daddy’s radio. She was shakin’” he smiles. “Eddie Money ah?” He asks. Hearing you laugh.

“Of course.”

“Snappin her fingers, she was movin’ round and round. That girl was shakin’”

“Come on, let’s go.” He helps you put everything back into the box, telling you to worry about it later. When you get inside the Humvee, he snags one of the earbuds from you. Sliding it into his ear. He pulls out of the garage. He could get in so much trouble over this, but can’t remember the last time he’s done something this crazy. You haven’t done anything and you’ve already lit a fire inside of him.

“We started drinkin’ wasn’t thinking too straight. She was doing 80 and she slammed on the breaks. Got so high we had to pull to the side. We did some shakin’ til the middle of the night.”

He reaches his hand across the middle, resting it on your thigh. You tense up immediately, turning to look at him. “Ghost.. what are you doing?” You ask. His hand glides further up, and he hears you gasp. “Simon-“ you laugh.

“Shakin’, snappin’ her fingers. She was up and down and round and round. Shakin’”

“Cmere baby, sit in my lap.” He forces you over onto him, facing the steering wheel. You can feel his bulge against your ass. You twist around in his lap. Straddling him and keeping your face tucked into his neck so that he can see. He groans as you start attacking his neck. Sucking and biting at his skin. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. “Drive me fucking crazy.” He hisses.

“I got a little nervous. She took her coat off. She looked so pretty, ah yeah.”

He takes in a deep breath as you reach for his cargo pants. “Focus on the road. Don’t kill us.” You laugh. “Fuck- doing my best.” He laughs. You unzip his pants, tugging his cock through the hole in his boxers until you could see it. Taking a deep breath. You wiggle your own cargo pants down, off of one leg, freeing up your hips, you straddle him.

“I’m always talkin’ baby, talkin’ too much. I love that little girl and I just can’t get enough. It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go, just call Rosanna and it’s a hell of a show.

And she’s shakin’”

A hiss leaves his lips as he grips your hips with his rough hands. You swallow him up, sliding down onto him. He’s driving fast, way faster than he should. But he’s so fired up from you, he can’t help it. It’s fucking thrilling. Your skin is soft compared to his calloused hands. He grits his teeth, muscles tightening in his body as you slide down around him. Clutching onto him like a glove. The music is loud, nearly hurting your ears as you rock your hips into him. “Fuck- fucking hell you’re a minx.” Simon grits his teeth harder, gripping onto you and rocking his hips up to meet yours. He presses his foot into the gas harder, thanking whatever god is out there that this road is empty.

The pleasure is white hot, wrapping around the base of his spine and working its way up. You make him feel young again, like a crazy teenager. You attack his neck, you’re loud and you can’t help it as you ride him, raising yourself up onto him and moving back down. Riding him like your life depends on it. Chasing after that high. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, crying out. You gasp out when he slams onto the breaks, pulling over onto the side of the road. He forces you to look at him after he throws it into park. He grips your hips tightly, thrusting up into you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” He growls. He grasps the bottom of his balaclava, tugging it over his head. He grips your chin, pulling you in to kiss him. You’re whining as he fucks up into you.

The windows are starting to fog up, your bodies are sweaty as they move against each other. He feels hot, fully dressed. Feelings just how hot the two of you have made it in the car. The fat of your hips clutched hard between his massive hands. Making you feel small as he fills you up. You stare him in the eyes, keeping eye contact. You smile, making him narrow his eyes. “What?” He asks. “Do I intimidate you Simon?” You smile. He shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“You seemed intimidated by me flirting with you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, rocking into him. He’s panting almost. “Just not used to it. Usually it’s the other way around. I’m supposed to intimidate you.” He laughs. Clutching onto the seat of the Humvee. “Fuck- you’re getting me close sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. “Me too.” You breathe, adjusting yourself one last time. He tilts his head back against the seat and you lean in, biting down on his throat, feeling his pulse against your tongue. His breaths pick up. He’s getting close, you can tell. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. Thrusting up into you. “Fuck- fuck baby. I’m gonna cum.” He gasps. His eyes roll back and his lips part. He gasps, hips jerking up into you. Your eyes narrow shut, closing tight. That knot forming in your belly. The warmth of him sends you over the edge, crying out into the crook of his neck. He holds you tight to him like you’ll fall apart if he lets go.

Your thighs shake as he adjusts you in his lap. “You did so good.” He breathes. “Such a good girl for me.” He breathes. He hears you laugh into him. “Fuck. We’re gonna be in so much trouble when we get back.” You mumble against him. “Yeah, probably.”

“One more, make it worth our while?” He smirks. You glide your tongue over your bottom lip. “Let me restart the song.” You giggle.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #captain john price #ghost mw2 #mw2 smut #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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spookykoolkat · 1 year ago

Text

tattoo shop - e.m. blurb

main masterlist

an : something i was thinking about bc eddie obviously loves bigger women. should i turn this into a short story? :p

let me know! i love feedback <3

wc: less than 1k? maybe 1k? idk i didnt count LOL

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

the thing about eddie is that he noticed he'd only ever have crushes on bigger women. it started in high school, when he had a crush on one his literature teacher. she was full, round hips and thighs that forced the fabric of her pencil skirts to stretch, and the outline of the buldge of her tummy. eddie could tell she would wear things to flatten her figure out, and struggled not to be that one weird student and comment on her body.

maybe it's milfs. maybe it's older women you were attracted to.

well, he leaned that way for a while. until he started his new job as a tattoo apprentice. you worked there, not chosen with talent or skills to actually tattoo pieces of artwork on bodies, or pierce flesh with needles all day. you settled for doodling at the front desk of the tattoo shop, and eddie managed to watch your every move.

you dressed in tight tops and baggy pants, always hanging off of your thick hips enough to show the hemline of your boxer briefs you wore. somehow you managed to look feminine while masculine at the same time.

you noticed him staring, but being too shy to say anything to the shaggy haired metalhead, you kept your distance and gave small, blushing smiles to him. he took it.

he didn't think he'd go from getting small smiles from you to bending you over his dining table at his place after a party he threw. but he did. eddie came on to you, told you how sexy you looked that night, asked if it was weird working at a tattoo shop with zero tattoos. that's when you asked him, who said i didn't have tattoos?

eddie quickly found out that you did. and you had a lot. they were littered over your stomach, your thighs and shoulders. how he managed to never see them was shocking, but what became even more shocking was when you accepted his flirty invitation.

i have to see it to believe it, sweetheart.

so, the house emptied towards the night, not a single person in sight besides you and eddie. you were in eddie's kitchen cleaning up solo cups and alcoholic residue when he walked in, thick with silence. he was watching you from behind, bending over his counter slightly to scrub away the stickiness.

"you don't have to do that, honey," eddie said as he walked toward you.

you stopped scrubbing with the rag, and faced him with the small of your back digging into the counter. "i know. just, felt like i should." you blushed, feeling heat rush to your cheeks from the mix of alcohol and embarrassment.

"you're a sweet girl, you know that?" eddie said with a cheeky smile, moving to stand in front of you as you stayed put.

"you don't have to compliment me," you said and averted your gaze. it was enough you had the epitome of your dream man standing in front of you, but he had to call you a sweet girl too?

"why wouldn't i compliment you? i think you're a real pretty girl. a real pretty girl who i didn't know had tattoos." he said with a smile, easing your nerves with a small joke and you felt yourself melt.

"they're just hidden. a surprise for whoever gets to see me with my clothes off." you admit and your face heats up even more, making eddie take a few steps closer to you.

"those lucky fuckers." he breathed, somehow closer than you remembered. close enough for his hand to ghost yours, and move to your hip.

"mm, don't know how lucky they really were if they never talked to me again afterwards," you said with a soft chuckle. he scoffed, moving closer and placing both his hands on the curve of your hips. you let him, the feeling of his large hands squeezing the parts of you that you hated.

"psh, you'd might need to get a restraining order on me if i ever saw these tattoos of yours," maybe he should've said something less forward, but the silence that rang through the house was so defining — he had you alone.

still, you played dumb. not necessarily dumb, you just wanted to hear him say it. "why would i get a restraining order on you?" you laughed. your hands instinctively rested against his abdomen as he brought himself closer.

"don't think i could ever leave you the fuck alone even if my life depended on it."

"eddie," you warned, as if you felt he was unsure about what he truly wanted, "you don't want me, i know you're acting like it but, that's not true,"

it came out weak, sad and almost insecure until eddie moved his hands up your curves, over the rolls of your back, and grabbing you with your cheeks in his palms.

"i don't really think you can tell me how to feel, isn't that right? i think i'm allowed to want whoever i want." he said confidently and your eyes went wide, doe like as if you were struck with the most impossible words you'd ever heard.

"you want me?" you squeaked, your voice not cooperating with you.

"will you let me have you, pretty girl?"

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hyperactively-me · 1 year ago

Note

Hear me out…King Ghost is wearing a white shirt and he somehow falls into a pond/lake in front of his wife. When he gets out of the water his white shirt is completely transparent and (y/n) can see everything. And while Simon is trying to get out of the lake he just sees his wife looking at him like 👀.

(In reality, a king’s shirt shouldn’t be flimsy and thin enough to be that transparent but I think it is a funny thought if Simon specifically got thin white shirts so his wife would check him out bc he’s a little slut for his wife but she doesn’t know that yet shhhh.)

omg bestie please this is the scene from bridgerton we all know and dearly love!!!!! yes!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden, glow across the lake. The winter season had finally passed, the snow gone and melted. Spring had sprung. King Ghost guided a small rowboat through the gentle water, the oars of the boat skimming over the water languidly.

As the boat glided effortlessly across the water, you sat back, enjoying the gentle breeze and the soothing lull of the water. You peek your head over the side of the boat for a moment, staring at your wavy reflection in the water.

“The spring here is beautiful, Simon,” you say, running a hand in the cool water.

“I thought you would like it,” he says, continuing to row the boat, each stroke of the oars propelling you both towards the dock. “Kastron is known for its wildflower fields, super blooms occur here in the springtime, especially during the rainy season.”

“Oh wow! That sounds amazing, you’ll have to take me to see them sometime,” you smile, looking back up at him from the water.

As the boat drifts, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh spring air. It's a welcome break from the formalities and duties in the palace, and a chance for the two of you to be together.

Spending time with him was all you wanted a few months ago, and since then, he’s made a continuous and honest effort to spend time with you, and you with him. Honestly, you’ve grown to truly have an affection for him, a real liking for him, a stark difference from the time you first met him.

The sunlight dances on the surface of the lake, casting a shimmering reflection. You find yourself lost in the beauty of the moment, the gentle ripples of the water, and the soothing sounds of nature all around you.

Simon's strong arms work in time with the boat, his gaze never leaving you. He shifts slightly, thinking of something to say. "I had hoped this outing would be a pleasant surprise," he says, his tone soft and earnest.

You lean closer to him, reaching out to caress his cheek with your hand. “It is more than pleasant, Simon. It's perfect.”

His brown eyes, once reserved and guarded, now shine with warmth. He briefly stops rowing, allowing the boat to drift for a moment as he leans in to kiss the palm of your hand.

"I'm glad to hear that," he whispers, his lips grazing your skin. "I wanted to show you a different side of Kastron, just you and me.”

You can't help but blush, feeling a flutter in your chest. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company. You've come to appreciate his dedication to his people, his sense of duty, and his unwavering support for you.

The boat drifted to a halt by the lakeside, and Simon gracefully rose to disembark. But, without warning, his foot caught on the edge of the boat's wooden plank, and he stumbled, pitching forward into the cool water.

You gasped, your heart leaped in your chest as you watched him vanish beneath the surface with a splash. Your first instinct was to reach out, to help him, but you remained frozen, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding before you.

Simon resurfaced, water dripping from his tousled, sandy blonde hair, and that's when you noticed it. His once perfectly pressed white shirt now clung to him like a second skin, rendered completely transparent by the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw every curve and contour of his physique, the strong lines of his chest, and the ripple of his muscles beneath the wet fabric.

Your husband, the king, stood before you, basically exposed, yet somehow looks more alluring than ever. You didn’t have to know he tripped on purpose. Hell, he’s way too coordinated for a fall as simple as that. He only did it to impress you, to get into your subconscious. But you don’t have to know.

“Simon!” you cry out, springing up from your seat. The boat rocks as you push yourself up from your seat, leaning over the boat. You jump over your seat, extending a hand to Simon.

He takes your hand with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his soaked clothes. “Well, that was—" he says, chuckling.

You can't help but stare, you really can’t. You help pull him back on the boat, watching his arms flex as he pulls himself up. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine, but you do your best to focus. “Are you okay?”

Simon nods, water droplets splattering around him. “I'm perfectly fine, just a bit wet,” he replies, slipping his shirt off. You are now staring unabashedly at his now bare chest, his muscles and abs rippling as he starts to wring out his shirt as best he can.

“O– okay” you gulp, nodding.

“What is it?” he asks, nonchalant.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, just…you falling startled me a bit,” your eyes darted around, your face growing extremely warm.

“Hm. Well, I am sorry for startling you—”

“No, don’t be sorry at all!” you laugh slightly, brushing hair from your face.

“Alright, I’m not sorry, then,” he says, now fully grinning at you. “I saw you staring.”

Your mouth goes agape for a split second, then you flounder, spluttering about how you weren’t staring.

“I wasn’t staring!” you say incredulously, exaggerating your reaction.

“You definitely were, darling.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He just laughs, shaking his head. He turns, hiding his face from you for a moment. God, he’s obsessed with you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#tee hee #so quirky of him #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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cassiebones · 3 months ago

Text

What if Nicholas can do the skull thing with his face?

Because we know that Rio doesn't permanently look like Aubrey Plaza. That's just the face that Agatha fell in love with (who could really blame her?) so she kept it on and it probably contributed to Nicky's features.

But what if, after he dies, he sees Rio do the skull thing and is like "....can I do that?" And Rio legitimately doesn't know so she tells him to try.

And it takes a minute, but his face shifts so that it looks just like Rio's Death face and Rio is melting bc omg this is so cute and all she wants to do is tell Agatha and show her and

She can't. Agatha won't let her anywhere close to her, still mourning Nicky's loss. And she can't bring Nicky back, not even as a ghost. Agatha will never see this part of their son until she's actually dead.

So Rio just waits. She collects Agatha's bodies that she leaves behind. She spends time with their son, telling him stories of the souls she helps guide to the afterlife. Tells him that she saw mama and that she's doing well, missing them both. They're lies but it's easier than the truth.

During Agatha's less violent moments, they watch her living her life. Sometimes she sings as she travels and Nicky sings with her. Rio runs her fingers through his hair, thinking how much like Agatha's it is. She holds him, tucks him into bed, tells him that mama will be home one day.

He never gets older, his soul stays six years old. 250 years go by and he's still playful and loving and missing his mama just as much as she misses him.

Sometimes, Rio brings him to collect souls, looking adorable in their Mami and Me faces and robes. He's most gentle with the child souls, of course, taking their hands the way Rio had taken his, offering them a gentle smile as they walk together into the light.

All Rio can think about when she looks at him is Agatha and how proud she would be if she just fucking let herself return to his side.

When Agatha loses the Darkhold, Rio immediately goes to find her and bring her home, but Agatha is not...Agatha. She has no memory of Rio and Nicky, except that she hates her and lost him. Before anything else, Rio has to break Agatha from this Hex so that she can be with them again, and they can be a true family for the first time in their lives.

#agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #nicky scratch #nicky vidal-harkness

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flowercrowngods · 2 years ago

Text

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddieweek2023 #dio words #listen i barely got any sleep last night and it’s almost 2am again and i’m SO tired so if this doesn’t make sense if it’s too repetitive or #anything??? then that’s just how it is (wap bap)#they all love each other so much it’s a whole mess #would love to give you hurt/comfort tomorrow but that would be rather soon huh #also please nobody be mean to/about chrissy i swear to god #everyone who’s commented and/or reblogged the first part: HI HELLO MWAH!! 🤍🌷

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genderfluid-insomniac · 8 months ago

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IDEA!!

riddle, ace, and malleus (separately) x fem!reader (u can make it gn!reader if you’d prefer tho!) where the reader is about to leave twisted wonderland but she’s clearly hesitating and then the character asks why they don’t just go, and reader tells them through tears that she loves him, and asks if he feels the same n that if he does that will be the only reason she needs to stay. he does and she runs into his arms immediately. so a little bit of angst but ends with cute comfort. if this is unclear at all PLS LMK and i will clear it up!! brain is rotted atm bc i finished the worst essay of my life a little bit ago

Riddle, Ace, and Malleus (separately) x fem!reader who’s hesitant to go back home because of their crush

Riddle

You were looking at the mirror in front of you the hazy outline of the world you know and turning back to see Grim trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. He’d tried several times to stop you like rallying the ghosts in ramshackle to help him or using his fire magic in the least destructive way he could or moving all the furniture to block the door.

Ace and Deuce nor Epel, Jack, or Ortho didn’t want to force you to stay since you’d tried so hard to find a way to get home and now you had. It was right in front of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a step forward. Your heart refused to budge and rooted itself despite your mind's logical reasoning. It pushed the one reason you had been trying to ignore out to the front of your mind.

Tears brimmed your eyes and you did your best to blink them away to no avail, using your hands to wipe them and felt them fall down your cheeks. You sniffled at the thought of never getting to see your crush again. Someone who you’d loved with all your heart and who helped you through all the trials and terrors that you’d experienced since you arrived in Twisted Wonderland.

You held your bag by your side and stared at the silver shining mirror that glowed signaling that its destination was fixed to the location the user wanted. Your home or rather somewhere close to your home as Crowley couldn’t exactly get the mirror to transport you to your country and reluctantly let Ortho and Idia help so its arrival destination was a lot closer.

Behind you were your friends along with your crush the dorm leader of Heartslayble Riddle and they watched bittersweetly as you walked closer to the mirror. In front of you was the hazy view of a city near where you lived and you were supposed to feel ecstatic that you could finally go home, and see your parents, and your friends but you didn’t. Ever since you stepped foot in Twisted Wonderland you felt like an alien but over time it began to be your home and one person held your heart through all your time here.

You loved Riddle dearly and after his overblot, you were there for him much to his confusion since he was horrible to you and the others but you relented. Riddle has grown so much from his freshmen year and saw nearly every day now, walking between classes or hanging out in Heartslayble and helping him paint the roses red or tending to the hedgehogs. The way he talked to the hedgehogs or flamingos was adorable and it was always impressive when an Unbirthday party was being set up and he was in his formal uniform staff in hand ordering people where each dessert went. In your hand was a specially made strawberry tart for you with a queen of hearts card sticking out of it and a fondant miniature hedgehog in front.

When Riddle tutored you because you needed help with some of your classes you sometimes tried to make the sessions last as long as they could since Riddle had such a strict schedule you would practically have to schedule or make an appointment his free time. Riddle of course upheld the rules for everybody even including you but he would sometimes bend them because your pout was too cute or your smile was perfectly bright. You both loved each other so much without the other knowing and it appeared like it would stay that way since you were leaving for your real home.

Riddle noticed you hadn’t moved for the last couple of minutes and seemed to be in deep thought however you were shaking. “Are you alright or worried? You’re shaking. Is there something wrong?” he asked and buried the twinge of hope in him that thought your hesitation was because you weren’t going to go back. You felt the hot tears drip down your cheeks and sniffled, turning around so your friend and everyone saw you were holding back the wave of tears threatening to fall. “I don’t want to go back… I don’t want to go back because that means I won’t get to see my friends or you! I love you so much! I have since the first unbirthday party I ever attended and I don’t know if you love me back but I don’t want to leave!” you cried and opened your eyes to see Riddle crying silently, tears unknowingly escaping his eyes and face a blushy pink.

You both stared at one another in silence for a couple of moments before the dorm leader spoke and wiped his face noticing his tears. “I didn’t want you to go back but it’s not my choice and it would be wrong of me to cause conflicts in you. I love you and want you to stay here with me. I can’t promise everything will stay calm but I promise I’ll always be by your side.” he said and his eyes widened when he saw you drop your things, running over to him and tackling the poor short Riddle to the ground. You cupped his face and kissed him softly, his face blushing scarlet but intertwining your hands and cupping your face in turn. “How about we make a new tart in celebration or salvage the fallen one I made you, my rose?” he asked and eyed the dropped slightly damaged dessert in its frail simple packaging.

Ace

The charm of an ace card that your crush Ace had given you was dangling from your phone and a replica of his magic pen held tightly. You looked at your phone once more and saw the goofy picture of both of you running from Riddle with the tart in hand as your lock screen. Letting a couple of tears fall and bringing your phone to your chest, trying to come to terms with that you would have to deal with never seeing your best friend and crush ever in exchange for being on earth again.

Ace and your other friends behind you grew worried as they saw your shoulders shaking and hands clutching your stuff tighten. Why were you hesitating? He was devastated that he would never get to see you again, assuming that texting you in your world didn’t work, and putting on a mask of happiness for you. He never even got to tell you he loved you but he knew now wasn’t the time as it’d make you hesitate. To the others, it was crystal clear how hard this was for both of you.

He ordered his voice to be steady even though it came out shaky. “Why don’t you just go? This is what you have wanted since you got here right? We’ll all miss you so much and you know we support your decision right?” he asked and heard the others murmur similar statements or agreement. You let out a sob and turned around to the group, tears falling down your red cheeks and bordering on a breakdown. “I can’t go knowing that I’ll never see any of you ever again. That I’ll never see you again, Ace. You’ve been with me since I got here and always stuck by me. I can’t leave because I love you and I’d never know if you loved me back if I left now!” you cried and hiccuped, dropping your bag and wiping your wet cheeks with your sleeve.

That was the breaking point for Ace and he stopped pretending to be glad you were going home, knowing his crush someone he loved ever since he saw you come through that mirror and go through all the crazy hijinx of this school year loved him back. He sobbed and held his uniform sleeve over his eyes to hide the onslaught of tears pouring out of his eyes. “I never wanted you to leave not when you already became a girl I could depend on every day. It’s selfish but I didn’t care because I loved you too. So seeing you happy to leave… it broke me.” he said and let the sad emotions overcome him.

You smiled albeit a bit wobbly and dropped everything you were holding, running to Ace and tackling him in a hug. Both of you fell to the ground with you on top of him and he cupped your face, kissing you softly and wiping the tears falling with his thumb. You parted for air and rested your head on his chest as you caught your breath. “So would my hot girlfriend be up for snatching a couple of sweets from my dorm?” he asked cheekily.

Malleus

Malleus had specifically arrived at Ramshackle to go with you to the Hall of Mirrors to spend the most time he could with you and convinced Lilia to stop Sebek from going with him since he knew it meant so much to his draconian friend. He desperately didn’t want you to leave. Who would he spend his nightly walks with or have interesting conversations about gargoyles? But most importantly, how would he fill the hole in his heart if his favorite student he loved left?

You held your bag in one hand and in the other was a replica of Malleus’ magic pen along with a small orb with the illusion of Ramshackle dorm with its gargoyles and you, Grim, and him outside pointing to different parts of the worn down dorm building. Just looking at it brought tears to your eyes. It reminded you of what you were leaving and how you were leaving the one person you loved behind.

Malleus and your friends noticed your hesitation and looked at each other worried if you were okay, wondering if they should speak up or say something. He went to take a step forward but stopped and gripped the sleeve of his blazer, unable to form the words he wanted to say. You looked at the glowing mirror in front of you and saw the hazy reflection of a familiar landmark smiling a bittersweet smile. Letting the tears fall down your cheeks and sniffling.

Your mind waged war on both sides of your mind wanting to come out on top and win. You didn’t want to leave the person who you’d slowly grown to love and who piqued your curiosity the moment you saw him. You couldn’t. Your crush spoke up after what felt like an eternity. “Are you alright? This is what you want isn’t it?” he said with a hint of solemnness. Turning around and letting everyone see your teary sad sad face. “I can’t go because I love you and if I go I’ll never get to see you again. I don’t want that. I love it here and I love being here with you. I love you and I don’t want to leave even if it means you don’t love me back!” you said through tears.

He let a few tears fall down his cheeks and smiled warmly. “I was hoping you would say something like that. I love you too and want nothing more than for you to stay here with me. I’d miss our walks and nicknames. Everything about you has captured my heart.” he said and brushed budding tears with his thumb. You sobbed hearing his confession and dropped what you were holding, running into his arms and holding him tightly. Both of you held the other like they would disappear if they let go. You laughed and leaned into the hand cupping your face, kissing him sweetly, and resting your forehead against his. “Shall we get something to eat, my beloved?” he asked charmingly.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts

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wordy-little-witch · 10 months ago

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Silly Buggy ideas, but Buggy have oversensitive observation Haki but also Buggy having a strange ability not unlike the voice of all things, specifically being able to hear the echoes of energy from others. He can hear, see and sense the dead, the dying, the things beyond this world.

It's both INCREDIBLE useful and fairly useless. Buggy is constantly getting a lot of Input, because echoes exist everywhere and he's semi desensitized to it all. Sometimes they give him useful info, like a heads up about am attack from behind or little reminders. Sometimes they just wanna cause Mischief and Buggy, being the only "fleshy" who can see them, is their target. He gives as good as he gets though.

He forgets sometimes that others can't detect the other's, so he'll overhear a recruit in a heated discussion with another about ghosts existing, will drop a serious "Oh yeah they're definitely real. There's a bunch here, too" and then leaves, never to explain or expand on that again, his underlings now SWEATING bc Chairman Buggy What Do You Mean-??

Add in that certain blades in One Piece are given specific titles and specifications because they meet certain criteria. Yoru is one of the highest ranked blades in existence. She is imbued with Mihawk's Haki, but she's also spirited and has a soul - one imbued into her by the death of other handlers/smiths. Mihawk, as her Current Wielder, is able to feel and hear her, but Buggy can see her. He's.... a little intimidated by her, all things considered, but he's also got some survival instincts AND sense, so he's always polite. Yoru actually quite likes him. He isn't sure if he likes being favored by the patchwork persona of a giant and deadly weapon.

Crocodile meanwhile can never understand why Buggy has such a fixation on cleaning his hook. It's clean enough, but he will admit that it does often feel better when he gets it back from the clown. He'll allow it.

Buggy just has full on conversations with dead people when he's alone, not bothering to hide it at all, and because of the close proximity his main crew has had with him for so long, they also begin to find themselves Noticing things. None of them really have the same innate ability as their captain, but Buggy's Haki has braided into theirs just enough to give them glimpses, usually of the more powerful beings present.

Crocodile and Mihawk only really notice it when they are both tired, stressed, worried over a feverish, unconscious jester, and between one look and the next there is suddenly a fourth man in the room. They both jolt upwards, defensive, protective, until the man turns enough to flash them a familiar grin, and they both gape.

Gol D Roger cackles soundlessly at their expressions before turning back to Buggy. His smile softens, his eyes fall lidded, and sweat slick curls are brushed back from a burning forehead with a tenderness most would think the King of Pirates incapable of. The pinch in Buggy's brow twitches, a soft whine of discontent rising hoarsely from his throat. He turns his head, a mumble of what may have been nonsense or may have been a horribly slurred attempt at "cap'n-".

There is no sound from Roger, at least not that the dark haired men could hear, but they see the man move his lips, see Buggy's head turn towards him, like a flower to the sun. They smell the sudden wave of sea salt and rum and laughter, a scent without compare. They can't do much else but watch as a dead man takes up vigil at the side of a man he had once called son.

Buggy's fever breaks early the next morning.

#buggy the clown #buggy headcanons #cross guild #cross guild polycule #one piece headcanons #ghost roger my beloved #roger is a dad and i will die on this hill

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wintersera · 1 year ago

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G!p mean girl Giselle 😍😍😍⁉️🔥

cw: dubcon, oral (giving), public bathroom sex, exhibitionism, choking, g!p giselle

g!p mean girl BULLY giselle- her dragging you out of class because she suddenly got a boner while your teacher was teaching some boring ass shit and she let her imagination run wild.

people in the class, and the teachers, not really caring bc miss giselle was a rich ass student, and punishing her wouldn’t really do anything- and if she were to be scolded she could just buy her way out of suspension bc yk the school system is WACK. you were bullied by her sm to the point of where nobody cared anymore, and no one could do shit about it anyways bc everyone feared her- so they all thought ‘ah, i bet y/n is gonna get bullied again’

WRONG!! giselle shoving you in one of the bathroom stalls that were usually secluded (like at the top floor bc who the fuck would walk up that many stairs to go to the bathroom) furiously telling you to suck her off. slapping her hard cock around your face bc at first you would decline, multiple times. getting pissed off bc she had to get her cock sucked NOW- she forces your head down her entire shaft making you gag around her in surprise, she laughs at you but moans when she feels your warm saliva coating her length.

thinking you were a total loser, nerd, virgin, LITERALLY JUST A COMPLETE LONER- she thought you would be bad at anything sexual, but ohhh noo she was wrong. taking her dick so easily down your throat, using your tongue to tease her tip and the rest of her shaft. you being you, you let her grow closer and closer to the edge, her moans beginning to grow louder and quicker- but then you suddenly take her dick outta your mouth with a pop.

LMAO her looking at you with disappointment, she was so close and you stopped right before she was about to cum :<<< aww she’s so mad that she forces herself onto you 🫣 pinning you against the stall door, flipping your skirt up and moving your panties aside. coo’s at you when she sees how wet you are. grips your ass and spreads them apart, your arousal dripping everywhere.

slams into you so hard that it shakes the door- like really fucking loud that you swear people walking past the bathrooms could hear continuous loud banging. lmao the students probably thinking it was one of those rumoured ghosts. but anyways, she’s gripping onto your waist so hard that it leaves long lasting red marks on your hips-

SHIT and then a couple of randos come into the bathroom. both of you panicking, but too turned on to stop. giselle takes two of her fingers and shoves them into your mouth, which didn’t do shit bc it made you whimper almost too loud. thankfully they were a rowdy bunch of friends, gossiping about this and that, so loud that you couldn’t hear the wet and sticky slapping coming from one of the mysteriously closed stalls.

whispering in your ears, “don’t you dare make a sound, i’ll fuck you up if you do”

you smile around her fingers teasingly “aren’t you already fucking me?” she couldn’t believe how cocky you could get given the situation you were in, but that didn’t make her shy away from shoving her cock deeper into your pussy. and of course you couldn’t keep quiet. you felt her fingers dancing across your abdomen and down to clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in fast circles. it felt too good where you just had to moan out loud, causing the entire bathroom to quiet down.

“y’all heard that???” one girl said, “yeah we better get out, like, it could be that weird ghost rumour” you heard a series of squeeks from their shoes, in a panicked way. hearing them whisper in horror bc they thought there was a ghost in the stalls “what if there’s a ghost in the closed stall?” you heard another girl squeel out in terror.

YOU THOUGHT that it would be over for you, giselle slowling down her movements. thinking that they were coming, hearing the sound of a group of girls footsteps come closer to the stall, but thankfully they left out in terror-

continuing from where you were before, giselle quickly changes her pace from slow to fast again. taking her fingers out of your mouth just to slap your ass as a punishment for almost getting caught in the act “you dumb bitch, fuck- almost close”

she’d never admit it, but she loved the way how you slutted yourself out to her. makes her ego grow a little bit tbh.

feeling your cunt squeeze even tighter around her cock, she moans out in pleasure, her hands that were on your hips and ass were now tugging your low ponytail, exposing your neck so that she could choke you with her other hand.

her warm cum painting your insides white and mixing with your own arousal made you orgasm hard as well. one of your hands resting on the door turned white from the way you were balling your fist. whereas giselle tugged at your school blazer.

and then you just walked out the bathroom like nothing ever happened- people were pretty convinced that you two fought once you returned to the class. your hair was all out of place and giselle just looked tired LMAO.

#wintersera #kaye: imagines!!#aespa smut #g!p aespa #aespa x fem reader smut #aespa giselle smut #giselle smut #g!p giselle #giselle x fem reader smut #aespa x reader smut #girl group smut #fem!reader #kpop smut

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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well now i can't stop thinking about reader in a depressive episode bc she's trapped in the apartment refusing to leave the bed or check her phone for texts and the only thing ghost and soap can do is helplessly watch through the cameras..or managing to accidentally hurt herself somehow in an escape attempt and ghost sends a text berating her for it but soap can see he's actually very afraid.. angst potential here off the charts ngl

ugh i looooove good angst. my favorite romance trope is second-chance because there's very little i love more than a man fucking up and begging for forgiveness.

putting a read more here bc im gonna talk about depression and thats a pretty big cw <3

it would be very difficult to not get depressed when they're both gone for days at a time. you'd go from being in their presence 24/7, constant attention, to just nothing for days on end. especially with the presence of the collar and chain at your throat? it would all throw you into a not-quite-person headspace, and that's not great when you're all alone :(

early on you don't like to interact with them. johnny spams you with texts - funny memes, stupid things people have said, things he wants to do when he's back with you - and you ignore him out of spite (except he can see you lunge for the phone every time it buzzes, and from certain camera angels he can see the way you smile when he tells you about something embarrassing simon did). simon doesn't text much at all, that's not a specific to you thing though he's just like that, so he's almost exclusively texting you little scolding messages. smirks when he sees you scowl and pout through the camera :(

they'd be really worried once you stop getting out of bed. even when you're scared of them, there's still a fire there yk? they don't want you to change as a person, they just want to keep you. when you start to give up a little, it would send them into a bit of a tailspin.

johnny worries first (he hadn't noticed first, but he worries first). he sends you a text and you don't move to look at it, which he's never seen happen unless you're asleep or two far away from the phone to hear it. so he spams you, does that thing where he sends one letter at a time so your phone is just making an endless buzzing noise. his heart lodges in his throat when you just roll onto your other side, not even looking at it or shoving it onto the floor.

simon has to stay calm, because johnny's freaking out. he's very worried about you too, but he can't be showing that with the way that johnny's hands shake as he shoves the camera app into his face.

they can't just leave, they've got a contract they've signed promising to complete x y and z, or else they'd be on their way back when you only leave the bed once in 24 hours and it's to use the bathroom. they're snippy and pushy, rude to everyone and each other because they can't help you.

the next morning you get out of bed. ghost shakes soap awake, a rare desperation in his movements as he forces him to look at your shuffling form on the little phones screen.

you're very slow moving, stiff from your day in bed and slow from exhaustion and hunger. you trip over the chain, go sprawling to the ground with a cry that echoes like a gunshot out of simon's phone speakers. you curl up, hands cradling the knee your weight fell on, and you don't get back up.

simon and johnny are gone, immediately. they break contract and just about every traffic law ever written to get back to you, tearing up the stairs at a full sprint like there's a fire on their heels.

you're still on the floor when they get there, haven't moved an inch from where you first fell (which they know, at least one of them has had his eyes on the cameras since you hit the floor). johnny wants to take you to a hospital, but simon manages to talk him down a bit when they see that your knee is only red and a little scraped.

the real problem is in your head. you don't bother reacting much when they burst in, just sort of lay limp and let them do what they want. like a doll.

johnny's cupping your face, squeezing a little too tight and making eye contact with you. he looks frantic. "lovie? c'mon, talk to me. what's wrong, huh?"

simon's stroking over your body with hands that shake, just enough for you to notice. he's leaned against the back of the couch, you between his legs and your back against his chest, legs caged by his.

"give her a second, johnny," simon rumbles, petting up and down your arms in a soothing and consistent movement. "she's alright. just gotta..." he cuts himself off for a moment, swallowing down the lingering panic in his throat. "just need a little love, huh sweetheart? little love and attention, and you'll be okay."

they slowly coax your mind back to your body, steady movements that don't jar or (for once) don't push any of your boundaries. they're warm, murmuring soft praises and kind words.

you cry when you fully come back to yourself, overcome with how comforted you truly feel. you shouldn't. they've kidnapped you, they keep you chained to the fucking floor like a dog when they leave you.

but they're so warm, and so soft. johnny's mumbling into your neck all the things he likes about you (pretty face, soft skin, perfect size, sweetest eyes, cutest expressions) and simon is breathing heavy and deep in your ear, guiding your breathing with his as it grows heavier and heavier.

that night is the first night you cuddle into them. you need them, even if they've forced it to be that way. you can't change it now.

#anyways if any of you have fics or books with a good grovel send them to me #bo writes #asks and answers #dlmliyh

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talaok · 2 years ago

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Hey, love! How are you? I hope you’re doing great 💕

Can i request a joel x fem!reader?

So, a few days ago I found a strand of white hair on my head and I freaked out cause I’m only twenty and wtf ?? And soo I had this idea of reader, Joel and Ellie being settled in Jackson, reader’s brushing her hair and she sees the white hair and screams and joel and ellie go to her thinking that something bad happened… joel keeps teasing reader about it but eventually comforts her because she’s a little insecure about it? Oh, and maybe age gap?

I also wanted to thank you again for your beautiful stories, they make my day so much better, you have no idea! Sending you a lot of love !!!

❤️‍🩹🫶🏼

Babe why are you always so nice you make me want to cry, also this is literally something I'm so insecure about bc I have a bunch of white hair and I don't get why so thank you for requesting this.

(HUGE sorry for the wait I just really have to study)

A scream echoed through your house in Jackson, and as time stilled, and both their hearts jump-started, they came running towards your voice.

"What happened?"

Joel's eyes were clouded with fear just as the fingers gripping his gun trembled with worry.

"are you ok?"

Ellie's voice was thin, quiet, nothing you'd ever heard before.

You looked at them, the hairbrush still in your hand, the daunting discovery lingering between your fingers.

"I have a white hair" you spoke, your tone somehow more horrified than both of theirs.

"what?"

"look" you urged, bringing your hair more in the light, your face twisting in an appalled grimace.

"sweetheart..." Joel sighed, shaking his head and putting away his gun "I thought something bad happened" he frowned, a glimpse of a smile ghosting his lips.

"you scared me to death y/n" Ellie protested too now.

"I'm sorry" you murmured, "but something bad did happen!"

They looked at each other, their eyes wide with amusement, and they could not help but burst out laughing.

"why are you laughing? This is not something to laugh about!"

"I'm-I'm sorry it's just..." Ellie spoke between giggles "It's just a white hair y/n, it's nothing"

"Nothing? This is everything! If I get one that means I'll get more"

Again, their laughs bounced across the bathroom tiles.

there you were, despairing for a different colored hair in a world where zombies actually existed.

You shot them a look "I hate you, go away"

"y/n-" Ellie tried

"no, just leave me alone while I try to find a way to hide this"

They glanced at each other, a small - I'll handle this- traveling from Joel to Ellie was all that was needed before the girl went back to her room.

You went to stand up

"careful there, I'm not sure you're in the right shape to stand up on your own at your age" Joel joked.

"That's not funny," you scowled, making Joel finally understand how serious you were about this.

"baby..." he murmured, stepping closer to you "it's not a big deal"

"but it is" you replied, desperate

"no, it's not baby" he continued, wrapping his arms around your back "It's just a white hair." he persisted "You're still the most gorgeous woman on earth"

"that's not the point" You shook your head

"no, then what is it?" he spoke gently, his thumb caressing your side

You hesitated "I-I don't know"

Joel smiled, trying to reassure you "Baby if you think that's bad, look at me" he chuckled "I look like Santa Claus"

"you don't" you bit down a smile "and besides, it's different, you're..."

"you can say it, sweetheart, I'm old"

"you're not old"

"no, then what am I?"

"you're just... older than me"

"That's a nice way of putting it"

You shook your head, smiling as you soaked in the feeling of his embrace.

He felt like a warm blanket after a cold winter day.

He stroked your cheek "C'mon now pretty girl, you're an amazing woman, you're smart, beautiful, funny, kind, good, and beautiful, you don't need to worry about a little white hair"

Your lips turned into that little happy pout Joel adored

"You said beautiful twice"

"Yeah, I know I did"

You hit his chest playfully, your hand lingering on his body "I hate you"

"why?"

"'cause you always make me feel better, I'd like to be mad or sad for more than two minutes once in a while, y'know?"

"I'm sorry" he smirked, his thumb tracing your jawline "I'll do better next time"

"you better" you joked, making him smile.

"Are you feeling ok now?"

"mh-mh" you gave a shy nod

"you want me to kiss it better?"

"you can't kiss a white hair better"

"now" he said "there's no harm in trying, sweetheart"

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years ago

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pls could you maybe do something about chad being the readers brother and finding out they are dating Ethan ? 💗

Let’s ignore the age issue (reader can’t be younger bc she won’t be at college, but let’s pretend) because a lot of things don’t make sense in horror movies and that's just the way they are

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Falling for your brother’s roommate happened slowly and unexpectedly. It started with shy smiles across the couch on movie nights, then casual lunch dates because you both had a two hours lunch gap on Tuesdays and one evening, Chad was tired so he went to bed before the movie finished, but you stayed with Ethan and one thing led to another.

Now, you and Ethan were in a secret relationship because of the delicate situation. You knew your brother and you knew he would react strongly to you and Ethan. They were close friends, but you were his sister first and Chad was very protective.

You thought you were careful, but one morning Chad was heading to class and he saw you and Ethan together on campus. Your light pink backpack on your shoulder was hard to miss in a crowded place. He didn’t think much of it…until he saw Ethan grabbing your face and kissing you.

That’s when Chad’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed with fury. Forgetting about class, he strided over and your lips were ripped from Ethan's, forcing you apart.

‘’What the—’’ A shocked gasp left your lips, cutting you off mid-word, as you saw your brother grabbing Ethan by the collar of his shirt and roughly shoving him against the nearest surface.

‘’What the fuck are you doing with my sister, man?’’ Ethan stammered, searching for the right words to explain the situation, but Chad’s angry face had him stunned. ‘’We’ve talked about this. We had an agreement! No messing with my sister, no thinking about my sister.’’ His grip on Ethan's collar tightened as he glared at him, his anger blazing.

Seeing the genuine fear in Ethan’s eyes, you placed a hand on your brother’s shoulder. ‘’Chad! Stop!’’

Chad looked between you and Ethan, torn between his protective instincts and your request.

‘’Let him go,’’ you asked, holding your brother’s gaze with seriousness. ‘’Please.’’

Taken aback by your plea, the seriousness in your voice made Chad pause for a moment. Reluctantly, he released his grip on Ethan and took a step back. His breathing was heavy, and his face was covered with anger. He turned to face you, his expression a mix of betrayal and disappointment.

‘’We had an agreement, and he broke it. He knew how I felt about him making a move on you, and yet he went behind my back.’’

You get his protective big brother side, but he couldn’t control who was allowed or not to date you. That’s just too far.

‘’Don’t make him sound like the bad guy. If anyone did something wrong here, it’s you,’’ you pointed at Chad, pointing a finger at his chest. ‘’You had no right to tell Ethan he wasn’t allowed to like me. You can’t control people’s feelings like that.’’

Ethan, who had been silent until now, spoke up. ‘’Chad, I’m really sorry. I never meant to disrespect our agreement. It wasn't planned, and I understand if you're angry—’’

‘’You, shut up!’’ Chad snapped, but you were quick to bite back.

‘’No, you shut up!’’ Your loud voice made a few heads turn, but you quickly composed yourself again. ‘’I’m not a little kid anymore. I date guys and kiss them…and sometimes they happen to be your roommate. I know this is difficult for you. You’re scared I’m gonna get my heart hurt, but it’s part of life. Ethan and I may be a hard pill to swallow, but take a big gulp of water because he is my boyfriend and I’m not gonna let you come between us.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

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treviso-nights · 2 months ago

Text

how far art thou fallen from heaven — a multichapter solrook tale

rating: M ch.1 word count: 1.3k summary: rook ends up in the regret-prison with solas after a nightmare. he taunts her, and she responds in kind, but worse. one way or another, solas is going to realize: varric chose rook to stop him for a reason. (ch.1 of my new obsession. will update description + tags as I proceed)

A/N: for my moot, @dirthavhen but also for me and the rest of us on this journey bc what the shit 😭

read on AO3

The first time Rook has a nightmare is not the last.

But it is the first time Solas has ever gazed at her without the searing contempt so heavy in every expression he's ever made in her direction.

Rook, gasping, presses a trembling hand to her face. At once, her circumstances are a little clearer—the fuzzy, ever-shifting texture of the magical atmosphere minutely less alarming.

Her next breath is a ghost, and she does not know the name or the color of it, precisely, but she is content to see it go. "Solas? Am I dreaming?"

Irritation blooms across his face, its petals unfurling at the corners of his eyes, nose, and mouth. "You were dreaming," he declared. "Or, rather, you were having a nightmare. Truth be told, it was a little incomprehensible, even to myself."

"A nightmare?" she echoes. Despite her Crow training, Rook is too slow to banish the disorientation churning at the forefront of her conscious mind. She is even slower to mask the lingering confusion slackening her features, though when she does realize this nakedness, her mouth twists angrily.

Her next words are a snarl. "You were spying on my dreams?"

And even from across the divide of his prison, Rook can see the exact moment Solas scoffs by the curious way his throat bobs above his robe's collar. "I did no such thing," he refutes. "Must I always need to remind you of our connection every time you cannot discern why it is present?"

The Fade around them curdles at the word 'connection '. Or, maybe, it’s just Rook, the very word a poison dagger she wishes to remove from her mouth and throw into the Dread Wolf’s heart.

Or his cock.

if he has one.

Because how is she supposed to know he really does?

“Fine,” she spits, scanning their surroundings with almond eyes. Each iris flashes silver in the Fade, their icy hue tempered only by the rings of pine-green around the pupils. “Then how did I end up here?” With you, is the true accusation, sounding off around her in the cannon-fire of their uneasy truce.

The subsequent twitch of Solas's mouth lets Rook know that she’s already lost the round.

“I imagine, in your distress,” he begins, folding both hands behind him, “Your psyche retreated from the chaos and by instinct, migrated to another, more familiar location in the Fade—this one, in fact, by virtue of the blood magic linking us together.”

Several of lilac-colored curls rips free of Rook’s braid, their ends thrashing against her still-pallid complexion.

“In other words,” Solas says, his next smile a mockery of the affable, polite mask he usually favors, “You came to me.”

Rook swears. Colorfully.

Normally, the Crow would not reveal this much of herself to an enemy, but she is tired, and shaken, and the nightmare—nebulous as it now is—continues to catch on all the sharpened edges of her. For a moment, Rook cannot even bear to look at the mage because she does not want to see the hoisted banner of his undeniable victory dance in the Fade’s ambient wind.

But, as always, the Dread Wolf waits for her. It is not until she reluctantly brings her gaze back to him that he asks, “Out of an unadulterated—if not ill-informed—curiosity, what were you dreaming about?”

Rook has no intention to answer, of course. Nor does she find it amusing to watch him tilt his head as if he were a coy lover, exposing a long, unblemished span of neck which would be so, so easy to pierce—

“—There was something about… a hand?” he muses, gray-violet eyes turning to the softly roiling sky. “And… a door?”

This time, Rook does not allow Solas to see how this rips through her like a killing blow. She does not permit a single muscle to breathe or expand inside her body. She obscures this—all of it. The way her blood turns to acid, the way her chest implodes, the way cold sweat gurgles on the back of her neck.

No, not this. She will never give him this.

It is only through sheer willpower that she is able to stay atop her feet. But she does. Rook’s answering smirk, a cruel, little thing, is suddenly an antidote to the nausea flowing in her gut. Solas, recognizing an obvious preclude before an attack, stiffens in response.

“I don’t know, Solas,” Rook replies, casually flicking her long braid over a shoulder. “Dreams sure are strange, huh? I wonder what you dream about, which failure hits you the hardest, though there’s already so many of them. I mean, keeping count at your old, decrepit age, right?”

When he doesn’t answer, Rook’s smirk grows teeth, and she taps a forefinger to her chin, deliberating. “Oh, oh! let me guess. Are your dreams about… your homeland? Not the Fade, I mean. But you know! The homeland that the very ancient, very dead elves built after you tranquil’d and destroyed the titans.”

To the untrained eye, one could so easily miss the tightening of the Dread Wolf’s shoulders, straining as he undoubtedly squeezes his palms together behind him.

“No?” Rook prompts. She begins to pace, walking toe-to-heel on her side of the regret-prison. “Hm… what about Felassan? Your sexy, also-ancient, also-dead best friend that you murdered in cold blood?”

Rook snickers.

“Creators, what a fucking waste. If I was stuck in here with him, he and I would be doing a lot more than talking if you know what I mean. ”

Peeking from a peripheral, Rook watches Solas grit his teeth.

“I’m still off, aren’t I?”

Because if he is going to remain in her head, Rook had already decided long ago that the burden of his magical fumbling would weigh entirely upon him—as is only fitting for the elven god of lies, trickery, and deceit.

“I guess, if I was absolutely forced to keep guessing,” Rook chuckles, “I would bet my mortal, worthless life that your dreams are actually about her.”

The abrupt, almost violent, dilation of Solas's pupils tips her off.

Bingo.

“Tell me Solas: how did Mythal’s body feel in your arms after personally snuffing out what little, withered life remained from her first death?”

“Enough,” the Dread Wolf hisses. Drawing himself up to his full height, Solas nearly vibrates with rage, the pale violet in his eyes blown black with fury. “I take your point. I see now that nothing more can be gained from such fruitless, idiotic banter. Forgive me, mortal, for having tried.”

Now that the cut had landed where she’d aimed, Rook stows her grin away, the transition in expressions almost jarring.

“Stay out of my past, and I’ll stay out of yours,” she promises, though she can’t help the slight tilt to her head at that.

“Well… maybe. I am a liar and an assassin by trade.”

“And I the bane of all your worldly nightmares, I suppose?”

“Not all,” Rook says, and she means it. Their gazes—pale lavender and ice-green—clash.

After another moment’s deliberation, Solas sighs, inclining his head in agreement. “So be it. I might wish you fairer dreams, but I am not in the habit of doing so, and I see no reason to begin now.”

“Alas, I might wish you a better… prison, but I just don’t.”

At that, Solas smirks. “You should be able to wake more easily now that you are here. Simply think of the Lighthouse, and you will find yourself awakening within a matter of moments.”

Rook nods, a small, reluctant gesture.

“Good luck, Rook,” Solas says, hands again folding behind his back. “You will need it.”

And perhaps it is her imagination, but Rook trusts that it is not—that the bare, writhing malice within his eyes is real, and that that malice is a living, eager serpent preparing itself to strike.

#dreadrook #solrook #rook x solas #moot u have almost single-handedly encouraged my quiet spiral i hope u know this #but im WITH u #rook #solas #veilguard #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dav #mine #writing #my writing #ignore errors i wrote this very hastily and was too excited

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