#the ghosts of everything follow us everywhere.

[torsamors]

kiera ellian and i reading pete’s old poems and posts and its very bad. very bad for us specifically

[nappingnai]

・❥・ mr scarletella headcanons

{ who doesn't love a tall 8ft ghost dressed in all red thats a huge creep? i know i do!!! }

ᡣ𐭩 -he's unnaturally flexible. considering he's a ghost, he can bend and twist in ways that could kill a normal person.

(ive heard people say he doesnt have joints, either)

ᡣ𐭩 -knows everything about you. your favorite show, how you're feeling, everything. scarletella uses this against you sometimes. not necessarily in a negative light, but considering they dont know the meaning of boundaries, he's a little bitch sometimes.

ᡣ𐭩 -after the scarlet rain ending, he'd do literally anything you ask. clean up for you, kill some person thats blocking the way, the list goes on.

ᡣ𐭩 -extremely jealous. you cant convince me that he wouldnt start like vibrating with anger the moment he sees you speaking to another guy, bonus if its another human. i like to think he killed mr. human because of that.

ᡣ𐭩 -adding onto the jealousy topic— mr scarletella doesn't get too jealous of the other monsters. its more and less with some. more so to mr crawling, less to mr chopped.

ᡣ𐭩 -knows what you're doing all. the. time. its like a sixth sense (did i use that right) for him. he knows who you're with and what room you're in. that scene when you're hiding in the vent? he didnt call you out for funsies. too lazy.

ᡣ𐭩 -we all know mr crawling is like a dog— but i think the same about mr scarletella. he'll secretly follow you around everywhere. even if you dont know he's there, he is.

ᡣ𐭩 -very big stalker vibes, although if you're doing something requiring privacy (ex; showering, changing, restroom) he leaves you to it. oddly, when you're done doing those things, you immediately feel a pair of eyes on you again.

{ me after not writing for MONTHS to come back and write about some otome game i paid 14 dollars for

all jokes aside if you're reading this im SOOO sorry for being gone for so long and btw if u followed me for jjk content im sorry again......i'll try and post jjk again but huys im so inconsistent with my fandoms its horrendous. BUT TAKE THIS!!!! :D }

[sadnymi]

HIYA,

I js wanted to ask if you could write a short oneshot about lazy tired sex with Mattheo after a long exhausting day? Like in the bathtub or in bed?

U don’t need to, this just has been on my mind for a long time

Thx pretty woman😋

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Warnings: smut , strong language - fluff.

The day had been nothing short of chaotic. Interviews, Quidditch practice, and the whirlwind that followed Mattheo everywhere had drained every ounce of energy from your body. By the time you stumbled back into his dorm, both of you were running on fumes.

You barely managed to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the bed, limbs feeling like lead. Mattheo followed suit, dropping onto the bed beside you, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, tired smile.

"Merlin, we’re a mess," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You rolled onto your side to face him, eyelids heavy but unable to resist the pull he had over you. "Speak for yourself," you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed how worn out you truly were.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and lazy, matching the atmosphere. "You’re right, baby. I’m an absolute disaster," he replied, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. "But you—you're perfect, even when you’re dead tired."

His lips brushed against your forehead, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to ignore.

You felt his fingers trailing up and down your side, sending tingles across your skin. "Mattheo," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips, but he heard it. He always did.

"Mhm?" he hummed, his mouth now moving to your neck, pressing slow, lazy kisses that made your pulse quicken.

"I don’t think I have the energy for this," you admitted, though you didn’t make any move to stop him.

A sly smile curved his lips as he gazed at you. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Before you could respond, he was scooping you up into his arms, his strength effortlessly lifting you from the bed.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he silenced you with a quick kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Shhh, love. You’re too tired, remember? Just let me handle everything,” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. As he carried you toward the bathroom, he continued in a low, sultry tone, “Can’t have my girl doing all the work, now can we? I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath hitching as he set you down on the edge of the tub. The water was already steaming, filling the room with a soothing warmth. Mattheo’s hands were quick to undress you, his touch reverent yet teasing, as if savoring every second.

"Get in," he ordered softly, helping you slide into the water. The heat enveloped you, easing the tension in your muscles. You leaned back, watching as Mattheo undressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

When he joined you in the tub, he pulled you against his chest, his hands roaming your body with a slow, deliberate pace. "You feel so good," he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. "So soft, so perfect."

Your breath hitched as his hand slid between your legs, fingers grazing over you with a featherlight touch that made you shiver. "Mattheo… please," you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk against your neck, his fingers continuing their slow, torturous movements. "Please what, darling?" he teased, his voice dark and silky. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you breathed, your body trembling with need. "Please, Mattheo… I need you."

"You get me baby," he murmured, as he finally slipped inside you, drawing out a soft moan. "Always so sweet, always so eager for me."

His pace was slow, deliberate, matching the lazy, tired rhythm of your bodies. But there was nothing lazy about the way he touched you, every movement precise, every word dripping with heat. He kept whispering praises in your ear, his voice a constant murmur of affection and desire. "You’re heaven, baby. Watching you fall apart like this… it’s fucking heaven."

You were lost in him, your exhaustion forgotten as he took you higher and higher, every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge. And when you finally came, your body trembling in his arms, you heard him whisper against your skin, "That’s it, love. That’s my heaven."

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, you felt his arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always mine."

"Always," you whispered back, your hand resting on his chest.

Your body felt completely spent, your limbs heavy and your mind wrapped in a warm haze. Mattheo was gentle as he helped you out of the tub, his hands steadying you as you stood on shaky legs.

He reached for a towel, wrapping it around you, his touch soft and caring as he dried you off. The warmth of the bath lingered on your skin, but it was the warmth of his hands that you craved, the way he treated you like something precious. With each stroke of the towel, he was meticulous yet tender, drying you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

"Stay still for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft, the earlier edge of desire replaced with a soothing calm. You obeyed, too tired to do anything else, too content to want to.

Once you were dry, he pulled his shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling of him. It was oversized, falling past your thighs, enveloping you in his scent. You sighed in contentment, feeling safe, protected.

He smiled at the sight of you in his shirt, his eyes softening as he reached up to gently towel-dry your hair, his fingers brushing through the damp strands.

"You look good in my shirt," pressing a kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a moment.

With a gentleness that made your heart ache, he scooped you up again, carrying you effortlessly back to the bed. He laid you down carefully, arranging the pillows behind you before sliding in beside you.

You nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state. his hand found its way to your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands with a slow, soothing rhythm.

He stayed like that, playing with your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around you. "You’re safe," he whispered, his voice barely audible as sleep began to claim you. "I’ve got you."

You let out a content sigh, your body relaxing completely as you felt the last remnants of tension slip away. his fingers continued their gentle movements, his touch like a lullaby, coaxing you closer to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my love," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as your eyes fluttered shut, his presence grounding you, comforting you in a way nothing else could.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you felt was the warmth of his hand in your hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the quiet reassurance that he would be there when you woke up.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

-I really hope that was at least close for what you wanted and you enjoyed it thank you so much for your request 💗

[yeyinde]

idk the idea of Ghost being an absolute dog. rough, mean, downright cruel. treats you like a thing, he’s gross.

and Price being the opposite. like can’t imagine even asking you to lift a finger, full on princessification. buys you pretty things and brushes you hair for you. and them just never seeing eye to eye is making me CRAZYYYYYYYYYYYYY

what's crazy is that they're both doing the same thing, just with wildly different approaches. and my (controversial) take on this is that Price is arguably worse than Ghost.

with Ghost, you pretty much know what you're getting into from the jump. no holds barred. he's not playing games. he wants you, he'll have you. end of. everything is laid out in stone before he even has to lift a finger to get you. you want out? run.

(but just. keep running. forever. because if he wants you, he'll never stop chasing you.)

but Price? you don't have to lift a finger because you can't. princess-ification, sure. but the sort that involves gilded cages. it's still a leash even if it's gold.

the end justifies the means, and that includes all things - even you. especially you. and once Price has you, you're stripped of everything that he doesn't like. put on a pedestal. your life wrapped around his finger. dependent on him for everything. he convinces you to quit your job, to move in with him (into a house that's just in his name). bends you until you break. moulds you into the thing he covets the most. there's no room for error here because one misstep and he can just. remove you.

and where would you go?

back to the friends he told you he didn't like? bad influences. or the ones he gave you that follow his every command? can you get a job in a city he has so much pull in? probably not when he has you blacklisted everywhere. the Price name holds a lot of weight and he has no qualms using his inherited power to ruin you.

he systematically dismantles your entire life and the wild thing is: you end up thanking him for it.

two sides of the same coin but at least Ghost is honest about how badly he's going to ruin you, y'know?

[sturniolothinkr]

cherry ⋆ matt sturniolo

summary: you and matt are exhausted after a long day, but are craving each other’s touch.

contains: p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, like one use of y/n, aftercare, lowercase intended btw.

word count: 811

a/n: first post, kinda nervous🤕 i haven’t written in a while so please be kind thank u

soft music was playing from your tv, the blue light illuminating the room in a calming glow. the only other sounds in the room were the soft moans and quiet pants coming from you and matt.

your legs were wrapped around his waist, one hand tangled in his hair while the other was pressed against his back. your nails dug subtly into his shoulder, while matt’s hips were slowly thrusting into yours.

you gasped when he angled himself a bit better, pushing himself even deeper into you as he groaned out your name under his breath. “god, y/n..” he whispered, his face buried in your neck.

“matt, please.” you begged, feeling his lips begin to press gentle kisses to your neck.

you were both exhausted. the day felt like it dragged on for longer than it should’ve, and both of you were equally busy so it felt like you hadn’t properly seen each other for the whole day. matt made his frustrations known through various texts sent to you throughout the day, giving the promise that he would make it up to you.

as soon as his brothers finally retreated to their rooms for the night, matt’s eyes were on you with a look of desperation on his face.

and as soon as you two were in your shared room, his hands were already all over you as he undressed you and laid you down on the bed.

his lips pressed soft kisses everywhere he could, both of you fighting the feeling of exhaustion so you could have your time together.

matt’s thrusts remained soft and slow, while ‘cherry’ by lana del rey played softly in the room. he kept his body pressed against yours, craving the closeness from you.

you pulled him in even closer with your legs, a choked gasp falling past his lips as his hips began to move with more intention on instinct. “god, fuck.” matt whimpered, a shiver running down your spine as his warm breath ghosted over your skin.

as soon as your hips began to lazily rock down to meet his, matt’s thrusts began to grow sloppy as he grew closer to his release.

you clenched around him and let out a moan of his name, tugging at his hair as your nails dug a bit harder into the back of his shoulder. “matt, i’m close.” you whispered into the quiet room, hearing a strained ‘mhm’ in return from your boyfriend.

the music only elevated everything for you. it made the moment feel much more intimate, hearing the soft lyrics and pretty beat play quietly in your room as your boyfriend fucked you.

it didn’t take much longer for you to reach your high, not with matt’s thrusts gaining more speed the closer he got as well. you clutched onto him, barely able to breath out a warning before you were finishing.

your moans grew higher in pitch, variations of curse words and matt’s name escaping your kiss swollen lips. matt grunted into your neck, heavy pants brushing across your skin, as he followed close behind you.

“fuck, baby.” matt groaned, as he sloppily thrusted while his cum filled you up.

a few more lazy thrusts were given, before matt’s hips stilled and he let out a heavy breath. he remained pressed inside of you, the two of you catching your breath as you laid together with your sweaty bodies stuck together.

“i love you.” matt whispered, pulling his head back so he could meet your eyes.

you gave him a gentle smile, and cupped his cheek. “i love you too.” you whispered, making matt’s grin grow wider.

he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, before he slowly and carefully began to pull out.

“are you okay? was that okay?” matt checked up on you, brushing your sweaty hair away from your face.

you nodded in return, “it was perfect, matt.” you reassured him as your boyfriend got up from the bed. he quickly slipped on his sweatpants, before he rushed to his bathroom to get a wet wash cloth.

as soon as matt returned, he was immediately at your side again and carefully wiping down your inner thighs and spent pussy.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” he whispered, admiring you as he pressed a kiss to your thigh. “so perfect.” he added gently, standing again from the bed once he finished cleaning you.

matt left the room to clean himself up a bit in his bathroom, returning moments later with two water bottles.

he handed you one and collapsed onto the bed next to you in pure exhaustion. “so..” matt trailed off, looking over at you as you drank some water. “same time tomorrow?” he joked.

you laughed as you slapped his arm gently, “you are ridiculous.” you shook your head, a blush on your cheeks. “but yes, of course.”

[blvdprn]

— GLOOMY STALKER

idia shroud x dom!male reader

somebody has been following you around, but every time you look behind you all you were able to find was an empty space. that is until you cornered the perpetrator and he had nowhere else to go.

nsfw — handjob, grinding, consent IS there it just wasn’t mentioned, stalker!idia, self-deprecation (it’s idia guys), popular!reader, reader is kinda into it, semi-public?, no actual sex

wc: 1,024

Again, just like every other day, the feeling of eyes following your figure accompanied you everywhere. It’s been weeks since this started. The irritation on your face whenever you felt the unknown presence made your friends concerned, worriedly asking if you were alright. You always made sure to tell them “Yes, everything’s fine, I just haven’t slept well.” At some point, they knew that was a lie, but they kept asking the same thing, hoping you’d tell them the truth.

One day, you had the great idea of separating yourself from your friend’s side. Your lack of presence goes unnoticed, for a short while, that is. And while they were running around like headless chickens trying to find you, you were already far gone, almost sprinting to an abandoned hallway —one that held rumors of ghosts haunting it.

Hiding behind an old, and dirty human-like metal armor, you waited until you were able to hear the footsteps of the one you were excited to catch. With their back turned toward you, all you could see was that they had their hood up, blocking their hair from view. They were also skinny and quite tall, but their hunched shoulders made them look smaller.

With them looking the other way, they didn’t notice you inching closer. Now, with you a couple of feet away from them, you could hear their heavy pants, almost like they weren’t used to running a lot.

‘Unathletic.’ You noted.

Hurriedly, you took long silent strides, slamming your left hand over their mouth while the other arm wrapped around their waist, dragging them back into the quiet corner.

Turns out, the somebody was the resident's gloomy house warden. He’d been following you around like a lost puppy, either by looming over your shoulder or by watching you through the hallway cameras. That would explain why he followed you in here. He didn’t know about this place, seeing as there were no cameras for him to use.

For weeks, he tried hard to get rid of his crush on you. Often spying, he hoped that he caught a slip in your persona, thinking about how nobody was that perfect. Sometimes, Idia wanted you to catch him, to reveal an awful side of you so the one-sided crush he had would forcefully fade away with the humiliation you would surely show him. After all, he was nothing but a gross otaku. An ugly loser virgin that was nothing compared to you.

This is why when he ran after your silhouette, the last thing he expected was for a deity like you to do something out of a hentai.

Which is what brings you to now, hand deep in somebody else’s pants, his face buried into your shoulder.

Your dick was hard, begging for some attention. Right now though, you were too busy making the third-year moan in pleasure, seeing as he’d never experienced something like this with somebody else.

“Mmh…” Idia let out, biting your shoulder with his sharp teeth, making you hiss at the pain.

“Tch,” you clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Don’t hide your moans, you don’t deserve it after what you did.”

He whined in embarrassment, reluctantly releasing your shoulder from his shark-like teeth. Instead, he tried to stop his sounds by thinking of something else, but that quickly failed when your thumb rubbed around his tip.

“Ah!”

You huffed. “Pay attention to me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Mmm— ‘M sorry..”

Your remaining hand then went inside his pants, grabbing the base of his cock. Rubbing it up and down, the other twisted at the top, your wrist aching a bit with all the movement.

“Ngh! Ohhh!” With Idia’s face in clear view, hood down, you could see the way his hair changed from blue to pink, eyes rolling back a bit.

‘Shit, he’s so cute.’

Not being able to take it anymore, you pulled out your hands and released his dick. Grabbing him by the waist, you turned Idia around so his face was against the wall, back arched towards you.

“O-ow.”

Quickly, you resumed what you were doing.

With Idia’s ass facing your direction, you pushed your hips against it, instantly liking the way his round ass and both of your pants created delicious friction. Rolling your hips and grinding, you saw the way Idia struggled with deciding on what to do. On one end, all he wanted was for your hands to jerk him off until he couldn’t cum anymore. On the other, he wanted and craved the way the outline of your dick just barely rubbed in between his ass.

Gosh, he couldn’t believe this was even happening. How could someone like you do this with someone like him? Were you not disgusted?

“What did I say about paying attention?” you groaned, increasing the pace of your thrusts and hands.

“S-sorry didn’t mean to.”

Hips shaking, you knew Idia was close, the twitching of his cock and the way his hair flared up gave it away. As if it wasn't enough, his moans and whimpers also grew in volume, and you saw how Idia’s nails scratched the thin wallpaper in front of him.

Your grinding against him turned rapid and damn near savage. One of your hands slid down, playing with the heavy set of balls below his dick. Not even five seconds later, Idia let out a pleasurable scream, feeling his orgasm come from the set of skilled hands that were still working.

With Idia’s hot cum all over your palms and fingers, you rutted your hips against him. Letting out a fat load inside your underwear, you could do nothing but wish that it was instead inside your stalker’s hole.

“HaaaAh— Please, it h-hurts!”

‘Oh shit.’

You forgot that you were still fisting his dick.

Hands instantly letting go, you had to wrap your arms around his waist so he wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. All you could hear were his loud gasps, echoing around the empty hallway.

Later on, you’d come to hear about a new set of ghost rumors. Ones that contained weird noises coming from the hallway you two were in.

notes: idia is so cute i need to give him a sloppy handjob and hear him cry about it. 😕

[librababe99]

Echoes of Her: Part Three

A/N: Hey y'all ! I'm back with the final part of "Echoes of Her" ♡ I seriously want to thank everyone for your comments, reblogs and interactions with this mini series. I loved being able to write this and bring these ideas to life! Again, y'all mean so much to me...so THANK YOU! Stay tuned for more soon ♡ - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ Word Count: 1738 CW: Angst, love triangle, hurt with comfort (Part one) (Part Two)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

The days following your conversation with Logan were a torment you hadn’t anticipated. Each hour seemed to stretch endlessly, the pain of your unresolved feelings gnawing at you from the inside out. The mansion, once a place of comfort and familiarity, had become a labyrinth of haunting memories, each corridor a reminder of what you had lost—or perhaps never truly had.

You moved through it like a ghost, your presence almost ethereal, as if the very walls knew you were clinging to a love that had slipped through your fingers. Every corner you turned, every room you entered, was steeped in the past—a collection of fleeting glances, whispered secrets, and moments stolen from time, all of which now seemed like distant echoes of a life that no longer felt like your own. The spaces that had once been filled with the warmth of his presence now felt cold and empty, as if the mansion itself mourned the uncertainty that had settled between you and Logan. And as you wandered through this once-familiar place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trapped in the shadow of something you could never fully possess, lost in the remnants of a love that might have never truly been yours to begin with.

Logan kept his promise. He gave you space, but his presence was everywhere: the scent of his cigar lingering in the air, the faint echoes of his voice in the halls, the emptiness that seemed to follow you, reminding you of the distance between you. It was unbearable, the constant ache in your chest, the gnawing fear that you’d never find your way back to each other.

The nights were the worst. The quiet darkness left you alone with your thoughts, with the haunting image of Jean in Logan’s arms, with the memories of the life you’d imagined with him. Sleep eluded you, your mind racing with questions that had no answers.

And every night, without fail, you found yourself standing outside his door, your hand hovering over the wood, your heart pounding in your chest. But you never knocked. You never found the courage to face him, to ask the questions you were too afraid to know the answers to.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the silence felt suffocating, the emptiness too much to bear. Your heart ached with the need to see him, to hear his voice, to find some semblance of closure, whether it meant saying goodbye or finding a way forward together.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and knocked on the door. The sound was soft, hesitant, but in the quiet of the night, it echoed like a gunshot.

The door creaked open, and there he was, his eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto yours. He looked as worn and tired as you felt, and the sight of him made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded silently, stepping aside to let you in. The room was dimly lit, the shadows dancing across the walls as you entered. It was the same room you’d left him in all those nights ago, but now it felt different. The air was charged with something unspoken, something that made your skin prickle with anticipation.

He closed the door behind you, the sound of it clicking shut sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, your heart hammering in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your voice shaky. “About us. About everything.”

Logan didn’t respond, his eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. The tension between you was palpable, a thick, heavy thing that hung in the air, pressing down on you both.

“I’m scared, Logan,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m scared that no matter how much we try, we’re always going to end up back here. Hurting each other, tearing each other apart.”

He took a step closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently touch your arm. “I’m scared too,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But I’m more scared of losing you.”

Your breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I don’t know how to be with you when I know… when I know she’s still a part of you.”

He winced, the pain in his eyes almost unbearable to see. “She is a part of me. Always will be. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I’m tired of running from this—from us. I’m tired of living in the past.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I don’t want to be second best,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to spend my life wondering if I’m just a consolation prize.”

Logan’s hand moved to your cheek, his touch gentle as he wiped away your tears. “You’re not. You never were. I’ve been a fool, and I’ve hurt you in ways I can never make up for. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you that you’re the one I want. You’re the one I need.”

His words hit you with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you, your breath catching in your throat as you stared up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered truth.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can keep loving you when it hurts this much.”

Logan’s grip on your face tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Then let me help you. Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m choosing you.”

You hesitated, the fear still gnawing at the edges of your heart, but beneath it, there was something else—a flicker of hope, of longing, that refused to be extinguished.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I want to trust you.”

“Then do,” Logan urged, his voice rough with emotion. “Trust me. Trust us. We’ve been through hell, but we’re still standing. That’s gotta mean something.”

His words hung in the air, the truth of them settling deep in your bones. You knew he was right. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, you were still here. You were still fighting.

And maybe that was enough.

Slowly, tentatively, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s breath escaped him in a rush, relief flooding his features as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his body chasing away the cold that had settled in your heart.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions—fear, hope, love—all tangled together in a messy, beautiful knot. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life apologizing,” you whispered back, your voice soft but firm. “I just want you to be here. With me. For real.”

“I’m here,” he promised, his voice rough with sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as his lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss, you allowed yourself to believe it—to believe in the possibility of a future where the echoes of the past no longer haunted you, where the love you shared was enough to overcome the pain.

The kiss deepened, the taste of him filling your senses, grounding you in the present, in the reality that he was here, with you, and that you were choosing each other, despite everything.

When you finally pulled away, your breath ragged, your heart pounding in your chest, you looked up at him, your eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. Only love, raw and unfiltered, staring back at you.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Just stay.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the last remnants of fear and doubt dissolve like mist under the warmth of his gaze. The walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by a quiet, unwavering certainty. With a gentle but deliberate motion, you reached up, your fingers trembling slightly as they found their way to his face. The rough texture of his stubbled cheek was a comforting reminder of his strength, of the man who had weathered so many storms yet still stood before you, willing to face the tempest that had raged between you both. Your thumb traced a slow, tender path along his jawline, as if trying to memorize every detail, to anchor yourself in this moment of fragile peace. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice steady, filled with a conviction that surprised even you.

As his arms wrapped around you, drawing you close, you let yourself melt into the embrace, feeling the solid warmth of him against you. The tension, the pain, the wounds that had festered between you for so long seemed to dissipate, leaving behind only the raw, undeniable truth of your connection. His arms were both a refuge and a promise, holding you in a way that spoke of comfort and commitment, of a bond that had been tested but refused to break. Despite the scars that marred your past, despite the echoes of hurt that would always linger in the shadows, you realized that you had finally found your way back to one another.

This time, there was no hesitation, no lingering doubt. You knew, with every fiber of your being, that this was where you were meant to be—in his arms, with him. The journey had been long and painful, marked by loss and longing, but it had led you to this moment, to a love that had survived the worst and emerged stronger. As you held each other close, you silently vowed that this time, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

You weren’t letting go—not now, not ever.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Taglist: @littledebbieinabigworld @sasuke-kun0 @mrs-schoenheit @daily-evanstan @aliisa-jones @danicl25 @shortbk @hynjjine @nonamevenus @yawnetu @enashift

[thevoidstaredback]

I have been madly inspired by this post, but I don't have time to write it. Instead, you get a prompt!

Tim and Danny are twins, just as in the inspo prompt. Except, instead of being from the DC Universe, they're both from the Danny Phantom Universe.

The timelines both continue as normal up until just after Dick becomes Robin (DC) and the Portal Accident (DP).

Instead of Sam and Tucker (or maybe you want them there? Idk. In my head, they aren't here) who're with Danny when the portal opens, it's Tim. They'd decided to try and help their parents as best they could (because this is a family of geniuses, guys!). Tim was working outside in the lab while Danny went in to see if anything's wrong in there, the accident happens as canon.

Now that the portal's open, Danny goes out as Phantom while Tim works as his support. (Neither tell Jazz or anyone because they're both allergic to help) Some way or another, Tim gets lost in the Ghost Zone and ends up in the DC Universe, wandering the streets of Gotham.

Jack and Janet Drake had decided to follow Brucie Wayne's lead and adopt a not well-to-do kid. They stumble upon Tim and basically kidnap him. He goes along with it because he doesn't know how long he'll be stuck here and he needs to blend in.

We all know the jokes of Tim being forever 17? Well, being exposed to the portal and the GZ as intensely as he was slows down his aging (unlike Danny whose aging completely stops) Tim doesn't leave Drake Manor much, nor is anyone much around to notice anything, so it's not like it matters. He doesn't actually notice at first!

Then, Tim sees Batman and Robin. At first, it was just glimpses of them, but then he got obsessed. He bought a camera using the Drakes money and set about his quest. He follows the vigilantes, learns from them from a distance, because this is what his brother does! This is what he was helping his brother do!

Eventually, Robin quits, leaving Batman and Batgirl. Dick Grayson leaves Gotham just after that. Then, Bruce Wayne adopts Jason Todd and Robin is back on the scene. Tim pieces it together pretty quick after that

Meanwhile, Danny's a mess. His twin brother is missing somewhere in the Realms, probably scared out of his mind and he can't find anyone who'll help him look! On top of that, Vlad's getting on his nerves more than usual, pushing further and further past the line he'd drawn in the sand.

Then, the Nasty Burger explodes. No one dies, thank God, but Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and his parents are all in the hospital.

Scared out of his damn mind that he'll become Dan, he retreats to the Realms. He flies and flies, grief skewing both his sense of direction and his will to care, and he ends up somewhere dark. It feels different from the rest of the Realms he's explored. Everywhere else, he could feel Clockwork and the Observants Watching, but not here.

Danny, needing to rest and calm himself down, lands in Gotham. Right in the middle of a Scarecrow attack. He's doused with Fear Gas.

Batman and Nightwing have been fighting again, and the new guy, Red Hood, isn't helping matters. Robin, in an effort to just get away for a bit, goes off on his own during patrol. That's when Scarecrow attacks.

Danny, more human than ghost at the moment, sees flames engulfing the building next to him, his friends and family all in there. And right in the middle of everything is his twin brother. He tries to get to them, to Tim, but someone's holding him back.

Tim sees his brother. He'd run to where Scarecrow just left, letting Batman and Nightwing handle Rogue, to check on any civilians that might've gotten caught, and he only sees one. At first he thought that he'd inhaled some of the Fear Gas, but he can think clearly and there aren't any other symptoms.

"Danny?" Tim asks, voice quiet, not daring to hope this is real. He'd almost given hope about ever getting home. He doesn't get an answer, but he can see the symptoms of Fear Gas settling over Danny, so he restrains him before he can hurt himself.

Danny passes out as soon as Tim gets him the antidote, and now Tim is left to explain why he's brought a civilian back to Drake Manor and why the civilian looks like him

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

[wrestlingwithlife]

Task Force 141 Boys with Cowboy (Head canons)

Decided I’d write some head cannons for Cowboy!Reader with our main boys either that haven’t written about yet or have but are so cute I wanted to reiterate <3

Task Force 141 x Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Soap :

#1 hype man fr 🗣️🗣️

Absolutely obsessed 😍

Will literally find any excuse to get Y/n to talk just to hear his accent

After watching Ghost get man handled by him he actually begged Y/n to spar with him

Looks up southern stuff to say to Y/n

“Y/n, will you take me to a Honkytonk? 🥺”

He tries his best but at this point he’s just doing it to get a reaction

Stumbled across the song “F***** by a Country Boy” and thought all country music was like that

Couldn’t look Y/n in the eye with hearing it in his head for a solid week

Never sleeps better then when his head is in Y/n’s lap

Literally will sleep like a rock

Soap is usually the one who falls asleep on Y/n

He didn’t realize how cuddly Y/n actually was until after one fateful night

Soap had came to watch old murder files with the southern male one night

Y/n fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder, slumbering silently

When Soap went to lean forward to grab his water he was yanked back into Y/n

Y/n bear hugged him to his chest and refused to let him go

Soap cherished that moment for the rest of forever

Added ‘Save a horse ride a cowboy’ to his Instagram bio

Has def stolen Y/n hat and tried it on

Y/n didn’t have the heart to tell him about the hat rule

But he’ll handle it eventually~

Absolute thigh guy

Has been caught staring so many times

Does not care

Continues to stare 👀

Has asked Y/n to crush him between his thighs

Y/n thought he was joking

He was not

#relatable

Ghost :

Absolutely whipped

Won’t even deny it if someone calls him out

He’s all about that Honkytonk Badonkadonk🤠

When Y/n says a word or phrase he doesn’t understand he just nods along until the male walks away, in which he will whip out his phone and immediately search it up

When Y/n mentioned there were times he missed his horses he made it his personal mission to find horses for him to pet

Ended up finding a place nearby that did horse therapy

He and Y/n both went and they absolutely loved it

The horses absolutely adored Y/n and smothered him with love

The southern male was happy to reciprocate

Ghost took a picture of it and now it’s his Lock Screen

Ghost was nervous the horses weren’t going to like him

Most animals don’t like his mask

Was elated when he realized the horses didn’t care about it

They really started to love him when Y/n showed Ghost how to feed them

Ghost was in heaven

He grew particularly fond of an old shire mare

She was all white and covered in scars but she was so impossibly gentle for her massive size

The worker said they called her Big Mama and she’d was a retired logging horse that had been rescued from going to slaughter

She adored Ghost and followed him everywhere

The workers explained she had a knack for taking the more nervous horses and animals on the ranch under her wing and making them feel a safe

Ghost almost cried when he hugged her 🥺

Now where Soap liked to sleep on Y/n, Ghost prefers to have Y/n sleep on him

Was laying in bed with Y/n one night while scrolling through his phone

Y/n was already snoozing 😴

Ghost went to put his phone on the nightstand only to get yanked back

Bro was shocked

Y/n snatched him back, burrowing under his arm

Almost cried again 🥹

Price :

Absolutely adores Y/n southern culture

Has a little notebook where he keeps stuff he learned from Y/n written down 🖊️

Occasionally uses southern slang around Y/n but unlike Soap he’s completely serious

Except the word Ain’t

He refuses to say that

When he finds out Y/n feels homesick he does everything he can to help

Gets Y/n all his favorite things

Favorite candies, books, flowers, even got Y/n a cow stuffie when he talked about missing his animals

Y/n put it next to his horse stuffie he got him last week

Price is a good cook but he doesn’t usually have the urge to do it that often

But when Y/n talked about a dish from his home town he missed??

Price spent two day’s learning how to make it and getting the stuff

Whipped that shit up like freaking master chef

The cowboy was elated and gave Price the most bone crushing hug

Snuck a little cheek kiss in there too 💋

Price’s cheeks turned pink so fast

I’m just going to say it…

Has drunk made out with Y/n before 🤯

The two got absolutely turnt on whiskey and just went for it

They never spoke about it after that but when they get close they still think about it

Price misses how the American male tastes

Something definitely awoke in him the day that he watched Y/n ride that mechanical bull

In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ Y/n would Marry Price a hundred times over

I mean, me too 😍

Tried southern Cajun food that Y/n made once and his heart almost stopped

It tasted good and then all of a sudden everything was on fire

Did better at holding his spice then Soap tho so 10/10

Y/n’s go to after solo missions

Y/n will stumble into his office all tired and instead of pulling up a chair just plops on the floor and leans his head on Price’s leg

Price just plays with his hair while he finishes paper work

He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t occasionally wander with how close Y/n was to his nether regions 😜

Gaz :

Trails Y/n like a puppy 🐶

I mean this boy hangs off his every word

If Y/n ever has to run an errand off the base you best believe Gaz will be going with him

Also looks up southern slang to understand Y/n better

Also listened to “F***** by a Country Boy” and couldn’t look Y/n in the eyes for a solid week

Always offers to help Y/n when he works out

Sometimes gets distracted when he’s spotting but no one can blame the poor boy

Acts of service is def his love language ❤️

Demands to know the names of every animal Y/n owns

Made a playlist of songs that Y/n mentioned he liked

Listens to it constantly

Likes to ‘help’ Y/n cook

Really just hands him stuff that Y/n asks for

Handles the spices the best out of any of them

When it’s just the two of them going out for whatever reason he’ll just grab onto Y/n somehow

Holding a hand, the hem of a jacket or shirt, or intertwining their arms

Y/n is happy to reciprocate

People will come up to Gaz while Y/n is distracted and compliment how cute of a couple they are

Just thanks them and doesn’t deny it ever

Sleeps in Y/n’s bed more then his own

Y/n will be working at his desk and Gaz will just wander in in and plop onto his bed to sleep

If Y/n takes to long Gaz will sigh loudly till he gets the hint

Always fights Soap for Y/n’s lap on movie nights

Besides Price he’s probably got the best sense of self control

He ain’t perfect though

Is Y/n isn’t watching him he is LOCKED ON

Always locked onto those cheeks 🥵

His mind does tend to wander

Y/n could ask Gaz to fake his death and run away with him and Gaz would do it in a heartbeat

[silaslich]

Whispers to cold flesh

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Wc - 2.5k

Summary - Ghost and Soap get separated and Ghost seeks refuge from the snow storm in an abandoned house. Just when he thinks he’s alone, he finds you there - bleeding to death.

Cw - 18+, blood, injury, death ideation, angst

AN - didn’t really know how to tag this because it isn’t xreader but more just angst I had worming around my brain :)

The chill runs down to his bones. It seeps into his bone marrow when the wind shifts and the snow falls heavier.

Ghost isn’t that used to this; not these days. Maybe back in England when he was young. Everything from those days is locked away, a ball and chain clamped around that particular box of memories, thrown into the sea until it sinks to the ocean floor.

Forgotten

He slams the door behind himself with a resounding thud and it shakes the walls as the snowflakes fall from his shoulders, melting away to droplets on the floor. Ghost’s eyes scan his surroundings, a constant vice he had engrained into him now, even if he’s out of enemy territory- he’ll never let his guard down.

It’s the same now as he scans the rooms, one by one. Footsteps as quiet as he’s able, sharp eyes watching for any sign movement as he listens closely. All he catches is the wind whistling outside, rattling the structure of the building, as far as a rendezvous point goes - he’s seen worse. He’s waiting on the irritating Scot now, everything is tied up on their end, knotted in a pretty bow for the higher ups to deal with, he can wash his hands of it.

Soap had become separated at some point, his usual efforts of running in blind and taking a handful of men with him as he went, Ghost had stayed back to watch and observe, held up on his sniping point further up the snow-laden valley. He hadn’t been needed after all, they got what they came for, now it was a case of waiting it out for evac to come.

He’s walking through what looks to have been a kitchen, littered in dust and debris, years of unkept rot and decay taking hold of the once decadent foundations of this home. Abandoned and forgotten, Ghost knew that feeling.

As he’s scanning the walls and the dark corners, his eyes land on a slick smear against the dirty wooden floorboards. It’s fresh, he notes. Then he can smell it, the blood, copper pennies - sour in his nose. Instinctively, he raises his pistol.

Ghost lowers his shoulders and steps forward, he’s even quieter, eyes scanning as he follows the trail of crimson that soaks into the floor under his boots. As he nears closer, that’s when his ears catch it, the rattle of breathing, heavy and uneven - laboured in a way that sounds like a punctured lung. He steps fully around the corner of a kitchen island, gun raised and eyes narrowed, he expects to find an injured fugitive, one of the war criminals that’s somehow slipped through his fingers.

But it’s just you.

So weak from blood loss you can’t even raise your eyes to meet his. It’s a haze, a blur of movement when he steps even closer, it’s only the vibration of his footsteps that make you aware someone is there.

Your chest rattles with an intake of breath, stunted when you hack up blood into your palm, it doesn’t feel like you’re walking away from this one. Too many lucky strikes - you’re finally out.

Ghost cocks his head to the side, then he’s kneeling down closer, sliding his pistol back into its holster as he does. “You with me, mate?” He keeps his voice low, he doesn’t want to startle you, he can empathise with you in this moment, he’s been there himself, too many times to count.

He’s seen you around. Ghost is observant, it’s his job to be, there’s been a few missions that you’ve been on together lately. He knows you’re a marine, been on the circuit for years now. You’ve toured here, there and everywhere. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times over a cigarette or an MRE but he knows you by name. Surely that’s enough. No, he knows where you were born and why you joined up, he knows where your favourite place to vacation is and the name of your first pet. It’s not enough, it’s too much. He can’t keep allowing this to happen, to get close to people and then watch them die, it’s something selfish that worms it’s way into his head - he doesn’t know how long he’ll keep being able to do this.

You raise your head from where your chin is tilted to your chest, your eyes drift lazily across his face, a realisation of who he is settling over you, he sees it. “‘m compromised Lt” you slur, coughing again, “looks like you’ll have to put that letter through” your teeth are cherry red when you smile weakly at him, he can’t find the strength to enjoy the quip.

You’re referring to one of the last conversations you’d had with him, asking him how he deals with the aftermath of a particularly unsuccessful mission. “You have to let families know?” You’d asked and he’d nodded, “sometimes” he breathed the words around the plume of smoke from his cigarette, side-eying you, “depends how many, if it’s a lot then I help out with the reports”. You hadn’t thought about that kind of responsibility from his role, something you’re not sure you’d want to do yourself.

He looks down at you, assessing the damage, he finds your hands clutching at your side, a steady stream of blood seeping through the seams of your fingers as you apply pressure. It’s as if you sense what he’s about to do or say and you stop him, raising your hand to block his in its path, it’s path to pry your hands away from your wound so he can see it. He dips his chin and meets your eye, a warning, but you don’t heed it. “Leave it” you huff, still struggling for breath. “I can’t fix it if you don’t let me look” his tone shifts, perhaps lighter, this looks bleak but he’d remembered to try his best at being positive- forever a pessimist.

You laugh, albeit dryly and with effort, “no fixing this, mate” your red teeth flash again and Ghost doesn’t know where to put his eyes, they’re fixed on the injury and then flicker back up to your eyes, watching them waver. “Don’t say shit like that” he gruffs, shifting his weight, he’s even closer now, eyes still trying to asses the damage despite your blocking hands.

If he’s being honest- he’d probably agree. At the rate you’re bleeding and have been bleeding at, he’d give it no more then two minutes before it’s lights out, blood loss is a nasty thing and it takes only minutes for it to become fatal. So it’s why he doesn’t forcefully pry your hands away and let him look, in other circumstances he might have done, but he doesn’t know how long you’ve been here for - and he can’t imagine it’ll be much longer considering how pale you’ve grown in the last minute he’s been here.

You hum. It’s almost a contented sigh, he guesses it’s the delirium stage, when the pain finally begins to flatline and the body tries it’s best to make light of the losing fight. You slide your head to the side, big glassy eyes looking in his direction, not meeting him directly. “Do me a favour?” You ask, your voice little more than a hum, eyes drooping lazily. He has no room to deny you, you’re dying, so you could ask him his opinion on mass genocide and he’d humour you until it was time.

Ghost has been around enough death in his time now to know how it goes. He’s seen people bleed out and get blown up, drown or be burned alive, there isn’t a lot he hasn’t seen or dealt with. He’s glad that this’ll be somewhat peaceful for you, of all the ways to go, this is perhaps the least gruesome in a military setting, he can’t confirm it’ll be painless for you however.

He nods his head despite his words, “depends what it is” it’s empty but it makes you crack a smile, with whatever strength you can muster, you extend your hand to him - crusted and wet with the slimy and congealing blood from your wound, when he looks from your hand back to your face, you simply wag your fingers at him. “Hold my hand” you’re still smiling, halfheartedly, but he just shakes his head. He slides his gloved palm across yours and he’s surprised when you clamp your fingers tight around his, mustered strength from a reserve you’ve hidden somewhere out of sight.

He looks at your connected hands and squeezes back himself, “can’t tell anyone about this when we get back” he smiles beneath the mask, it’s solemn - empty. You tilt your chin at him with a knowing air about the motion, there’s little emotion left in your features now, too tired and far gone for it. “I won’t tell anyone” you slur, looking at him, “I promise” the last part is whispered with what he can see is a slight smile. He squeezes your hand again, “good on ya”.

Reality cracks when the sound of the door almost snapping off of its hinges makes Ghost leap almost six feet in the air, he’d let his guard down a little too far and he’s quick to raise his rifle toward the doorway, leaving your hand cold as he stands over you, protective despite there being no real need to be. His finger threatens the trigger but then he lets the tension wash from his shoulders when he hears that familiar Scottish twang.

It’s Johnny

He steps into the room with his hands raised mockingly, stupid cocky smile plastering his face, “alrate, Lt?” The light in his eyes dims and his toothy grin falls when he notices the blood staining the wood he’s standing on. He hadn’t noticed you straight away, blocked by Ghost almost entirely. Ghost steps to the side as if in answer to the question, no- he’s not alrate.

Soap raises his brows, “steamin’ Jesus” he whispers, footfalls immediately carrying him quickly toward you. “Y’okay mate?” He asks quickly, running through the same motion as Ghost had only for you to clock him too. You hiss when his hand lays over yours on your abdomen and you attempt to jerk away, “leave off will ya’” you spit, brows pinched together in pain and frustration. Soap looks wounded by it, no one denies his offers of help, not the bright Scottish lad with a grin too wide and a humour so dark.

“Wouldn’t let me touch it either” Ghost rumbles, watching as you glare at Soap. There’s one thing about Johnny, he rarely takes no for an answer, “come on now” he speaks softly, laying a hand over your thigh so you’re not startled by the touch. “Let me have a look at it, please” his accent loosens and so does the pinched tightness of his face, Ghost watches as you consider the Scot, ultimately reaching the same verdict. You shake your head, “no point, Soap” you knock your head against the cabinet you’re propped against, “I’m done in”. You seem to genuinely believe this is it, to bleed out on a dirty safe house floor in the middle of rural snow-clad Europe.

Johnny swallows. “Either way, if you let me look I can either help-“ he cuts himself off, perhaps looking for a better way of wording whatever he was going to say “or I can be here with you” it’s an offer of his hand to hold or his shoulder to lean on. Ghost has seen it time and time again, he’s been on both ends of it, either thinking he’s the one who’s time is here or watching and waiting as someone dies in his arms. Despite the strength and bravado these men feel obligated to front with, it boils down to the same thing, no one wants or deserves to die alone.

You close your eyes and fight with yourself as you nod. It seems fair, even if you’re going to die, perhaps give them the piece of mind that they tried to help you. It’s why you don’t react when Soap springs into action, he’s cutting away the layers of your clothes around the area, fishing through his med-kit for gauze and tweezers, he’d try his absolute best.

Ghost watches it all unfold, how you don’t even flinch now, not even when Soap pokes around in the wound as he digs for a bullet he’s not even sure is still in there. Ghost doesn’t cringe, he’s seen people blown to bits, but it’s the fact that you don’t react that concerns him more then the squelch of your insides as Soap roots around in there.

It’s only a few seconds before Ghost hears something small and metallic clank to the floor, he watches the bullet roll away in a trail of fresh blood. “Got the wee bastard” Soap triumphs under his breath, you stare lazily at nothing, Ghost steps closer to examine as Soap begins to stitch the wound back together. He’s never been good at it himself, he’s stitched himself up before and a handfuls of others, they always healed deep and ugly - so he tries not to do it if he can get away with it.

His gun is hung hazily in his grip, hanging off the strap that’s over his shoulder, he’s watching Soap work intently until he feels the strap shift against his body. He stiffens but he doesn’t move, his eyes fall to you, watching as you wrap your fingers around the barrel of the rifle and lift it to sit against your forehead. Soap stills completely, eyes darting from you to Ghost.

“Put me out of my fucking misery” your voice barely carries, it’s hoarse and weak, close to dissipated. Ghost meets your eye, gaze glossed over as you stare at him - stare into him. He can’t shift it.

Soap pipes up, “bleedings stopped, pal” he interjects, “yer gonna be fine” wether he’s convincing you or himself - no one’s sure at this point.

You don’t drop your hold on the gun, nor do you drop Ghost’s gaze. “Just spare one bullet for me - please” he watches as the tears fall, smearing through the blood and dirt smearing your face, cutting through like sharp spines that travel over your cheeks.

He replays it over and over. Days later.

Watching as you sleep, wrapped in bandages and starchy white sheets in the medical wing, fed painkillers through a needle in your arm - over the worst of it all thanks to Soap.

It rattles Ghost. Not because it had been gruesome or particularly unpleasant of an encounter, it doesn’t come close to some of the shit he’s seen in his time.

He’s rattled because of just how close he had been to doing you a favour and putting a bullet in your skull.

All for the sake of not having to see you in such pain anymore.

[queenpiranhadon]

parts 1, 2, 3

"You did what you could."

That's what everyone told you, the day you came back from the failed Kamino Incident.

Not only had you lost All Might, you lost Katsuki too.

Your Katsuki.

The boy you swore you'd do anyone for.

The boy who swore he'd do anything for you back.

Except he didn't.

Because you were here.

And he was there with them.

The League.

Villains.

It shook you to your core, to even think about it, to even wonder in the slightest if Katsuki actually joined them.

Willingly.

It made you sick.

Katsuki Bakugou, your best friend, your...your... could you even say that?

What was he to you? And what were you to him? Were you anything to him?

God, you'd do anything to have him back now.

The day you came back from the Kamino Incident, you were different. To the point where everyone truly wondering if it was really you or not.

Instead of the bright aspiring hero-in-training everyone knew you to be, you were nothing but an empty shell, a remanent of who you used to be.

Kirishima and Midoriya were close to Katsuki too, but they weren't as close to him as you were.

At least they could still keep fighting.

But everywhere you went, the ghost of Katsuki followed.

The common room where you feel asleep on him, the blonde tenderly stroking your back as he fell asleep too.

The kitchen where he cooked you meals, berating you for your poor appetite.

The dorms where you spent countless nights, talking about everything and nothing, savoring of feeling of simply just each other.

And then, came the thoughts, the doubts, the pain, and the guilt.

Crashing down on your like a inky black tidal wave that threatened to drown you with no way to swim back to shore.

Back to Katsuki.

Your classmates noticed how much you had deteriorated after that, tired dark circles underneath your dulled eyes, complexion paler from a lack of eating, and just the lack of life from your entire body.

But they left you alone. Because they figured you deserved to grieve.

Even a blind person could see truly how deep your connection to each other ran, and so to feel like much sorrow, it was earth-shattering.

They just didn't think it would get this bad.

Because one day, you didn't come out of your dorm in the morning.

A/N: No, reader isn't dead. Yes, I know this has some sensitive topics so just be wary about that moving on, if I do decide to do another part.

[7ulpix]

Bodyguard AU (COD x F!Reader) P1: Ghost + Price

☕️ word count: 558

☕️ paring: Ghost/Simon Riley • Reader • John Price

☕️ warnings: age gap (reader is somewhere in college 23-27), swearing

☕️ author's note: thank y'all for helping me choose!!! separating them into parts.......reader is kinda moody ngl ☹️💔

☕️ request? kinda?? It won the poll lol

- ☕️ -

After being hired by your father to protect you, John Price and Simon Riley do everything in their power to keep you safe. The only problem being, trouble follows you everywhere.

Ghost/Simon Riley + John Price

Ghost and Price was used to protecting civilians, and then there was........you. The so-called "angel" by your father. They had been hired to protect from harm's way, but it seemed harm was always nearby with you around. This "angel" definitely had the face of one, but by God's was she snarky and confident.

You constantly got into agruements with Ghost after being caught trying to sneak out of your apartment to parties. These agruements didn't last long, Ghost not willing to hear you out, or whatever lame excuses you came up with. It always resulted in him throwing you over his shoulder and ending up back in your apartment. You would usually get the same scoldings from Price and the threat of telling your father about these incidents. That instantly shut you up, knowing what could possibly happen if your father knew you disobeyed him.

Once, he had even taken away your poor puppy, Honey. He obviously made sure the puppy was taken well care of, but told you he was most likely going to sell it if you didn't stop (trying) sneaking out to parties and events. You hadn't talked to Ghost or Price for 2 weeks straight until you got your puppy back.

Most weekends were spent at the mall or running small errands, either 1 or both of your bodyguards tailing you. You almost never held your own bags, Ghost automatically taking them out of your hands. The first time he tried doing that without telling you, you proceeded to beat the hell out of him with your purse, thinking he was a thief trying to steal it.

Most times, with Price were mindless small talk over quiet morning walks to Campus. Price was usually with you in the early mornings and would switch with Ghost later in the day.

You would come home and play with your puppy before getting to studying. Your puppy seemed to adore Price and Ghost more than you at times (abid to your jealousy lol). Even though Ghost wouldn't admit it in his lifetime, he took very good care of the small thing when you weren't there. The puppy bowls were filled to the brim with water and food, and new toys you hadn't brought being obvious.

Price would play with the little guy, teaching it little tricks here and there, to see your surprise when your puppy actually obeyed you. When you were allowed to go to parties, it would be mostly parties your father forced you to attend. Boring fancy rich people parties where you either stood or sat around, making little to no actual good conversations. Price cracking a joke here and then to see your pretty smile, and Ghost holding your coat/jacket. At the end of the night, when Price carried you to the black SUV because your legs were too tired, Ghost would carry your high heels.

It wasn't often when someone actually came after you, trying to cause harm. Your two bodyguards did their job swiftly, showing a lack of restrain.

"Yer' wanna explain just what the bloody hell yer' doing?" Simon hissed.

".......I was just making sure the lady up there was alright."

The "lady" was you who was currently walking your puppy though the park. The sun was going down by now, and the park had cleared out by now.

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

Before he and Odysseus make up, Astyanax must undergo some character development, so here it is

Astyanax closed his eyes to sleep at Calypso's island, far from the greek man and the goddess, and when he opened again, he found himself at an unknown place.

It was clearly divine intervention, even if he didn't know which god was playing with him, caution was more than necessary. His weapon was next to him in the dry soil and dust that covered everything that his eyes could see.

Ruins were everywhere, but that didn't stopped him from imagining what was there before. In the wholes of the ruin his mind was able to rebuild an image of a past era of prosperity. Giant destroyed walls talked about years of siege and the doors, crooked and rotten in their place, of what was once the city, spoke about days of glory long gone.

Then there it was, a pile of a structure which shape can't be recalled, but the dirt and the moss were no obstacle for Astyanax's mind.

"This is Troy." He said, to the ghosts of those who died there.

"This is where Troy were once", a thundering voice corrected him, condescending. "I want to show you something, come."

Disobedience and a snarky reply crossed briefly by Astyanax's mind, but in the last second he kept those to himself, opting for following the Thunder Bringer. Broken stairs and rooms which once had colour and life greeted him as he ascended, testimonies of a time that was no longer his.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked.

"I have a mission for you."

"I'm not interested in being your champion, Zeus."

Then the thunder God used the dusty cloud of his sandals to take form and looked him in the eye. His expression was of amusement.

"No one is talking of champions here, boy. I have a mission for you, that's all."

"Still not interested."

"But you are so filled with rage! Wouldn't you like a chance to unwind?"

"I'll pass, thanks for the offer."

A long, patronizing laugh came from Zeus.

"First, take a look at what I have to show, and then decide."

The room, looted and ruined, changed to depict a scene from the past. Sounds of slaughter came from the balcony, and there, in the corner, there was a cradle.

An echo of man entered the room, and something tightened in Astyanax's chest when he recognized the man as none other than Odysseus, a young version of him, old, yes, but younger, and maybe tired, but Astyanax could still see some hope in his eyes.

The scene developed in front of him as Odysseus had told him, which only reassure him that the man had been telling him the truth that dreadful night in the beach.

Astyanax could only watch, as a young Odysseus disobeyed Zeus, faked a baby Astyanax's death, and took the child version of him to safety.

""Come on, little ghost," the young Odysseus mumbled softly, even covered in blood, "where are the clothes for your diapers stored? We must go."

Astyanax blinked away some tears while the illusion faded away.

"I would like you to kill him." Said the king of gods. "That's my mission for you."

"Why."

"As you have seen, he disobeyed me."

"Well, tough, I said no."

"This is your chance to avenge your home, your father! Troy's legacy lives runs through your veins..."

"Is this what the Trojan Legacy is??!?!?" Astyanax exclaimed with fury. "A meaningless death after another! Sonless fathers killing fatherless sons!! Bloodshed that never dries! Ruthlessness, and the greediness of the gods turning everything they touch into ruins."

"Careful, boy, shut your mouth before is too late."

"Or what? You will kill me? You have wanted me death since I was a baby! And now you want me to kill the only man I have called father and for what? Because you are bored??"

"Hector, crown prince of Troy, was your father..."

"And where is he? WHERE IS HE? HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU AND EVERY SINGLE GOD WHO LIVES IN THAT FREAKING MOUNTAIN OF YOURS."

Astyanax coughed after yelling so much, he even turned red, so lost in his self righteous fury that he forgot to breath for a second.

"Are you done?"

"Not even close." Astyanax muttered with a dangerous edge in his voice.

"You will kill Odysseus of Ithaca because, I, Zeus, God of Thunder, has told you so."

"Eat me, asshole."

Then Astyanax turned around and started his journey downstairs, to see if the greek army left something valuable behind. Something useful. At least he hoped not everything was at the bottom of the sea with the Ithacan fleet.

Zeus didn't stop pestering him, the dusty cloud following Astyanax.

"Where are you going? I did not finish saying my piece!"

"But I did, now fuck off, I need to get back to Calypso's."

"To kill Odysseus, I assume."

"Your assumption is wrong." The characteristic hint of sass was back in the boy's voice, as he took a long wooden stick from the ground, maybe it could be useful...

"I am Zeus, God of Thunder..."

"And I'm Scamandrius of Troy, son of Hector and Andramoche, Ghost of Troy, the Infant from that night, I'm the 601st man, I'm the One you wasn't expecting...and last but not least, I'm Astyanax the cynic, son of Odysseus...and I'm going to let him go and that's final."

"Why? It's an order, kill him!"

"No. He is not my enemy. You are."

"Are you threatening me, boy?"

"No, I'm stating facts. He's not my enemy and even if I kill him, that won't bring Troy back."

"Merciness is not a valuable skill."

"And that's the difference between men and gods. The need for mercy." Luckily for Astyanax, the curtains were still in place, so he took them down.

"That's naïve."

"Is it? It's because of an act of mercy that I am alive. Mercy is a weakness, yes, but is a strength too. Civilizations raise and fall because of it"

"He is still a threat."

"To whom? He tried to kill me because you ordered it, he is a mere puppet in your scheme. There's nothing personal in that. He's dangerous to you, and you want to toy with him by making me kill him. My answer is still no, by the way."

"And you are letting him go, out of mercy."

"And out of love." Astyanax looked at him with something that was tinted with sadness. "You know, I feel sorry for you, so many sons and daughters and none of them has called you dad...and it shows."

"You know nothing about me, mortal."

"Neither do you about me, puny god. As I was saying, I choose to let him go, because I'm also Astyanax the merciful, but I'm no idiot. He is a nobody, but you, in the other hand, have much to explain. What would you tell the other gods? Would you return home and tell them that you challenged a child? That you were so scared that you just couldn't stand the thought of me being alive? Go, go and tell them who defeated you, tell them about me, tell them that a boy with no beard beat you in your game. Tell them that your ego blinded you and a boy outsmarted you."

"Do you think is wise to talk like that to a god?"

"No, but is it fair to me to chase me like this? I was a baby, not a threat, back in the Trojan war, yet you wanted me dead. Troy was a beautiful place, without the gods' interferance, yet today is all dust and ashes. And now, you just ordered my death, again, because that's what all the 'kill Odysseus' nonsense is, you just want him to kill me. Is this what you want your legacy to be? A capricius whimsical god with no sense of morality! I just want to live in peace, is that too much to ask? Of course you choose not to speak. If your choice is to tell the other gods...Tell them where to find me. Tell them I'll be in Ithaca, and so will my father."

[barefoothighlander]

the vow - ii

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity, mention of alcohol, harassment

prev part masterlist

You wake the next morning to the sound of voices outside your doors, loud chattering filling the air as the morning breeze drifts through the windows, you stand from your bed throwing on your dressing robe and crossing the room, you reach to open the heavy doors but are forced back as they open from the other side.

“Princess” Simon says as if he was shocked to see you,

“Simon, what’s going on”

“M’lady, we must get you ready” Clarice pushes through the doors, drifting past you as you stand in a state of confusion, turning back to face Simon who had been staring at you the whole time.

“You need not keep my maids out Simon”

“Apologies M’lady I”

You cut him off “My lady”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Low borns say, M’lady, you are a knight now, you use the proper, My lady”

“Of course My lady, my mistake” He bows his head, pulling his arm from the door and resting it by his side,

“Make haste Princess, we have little time” Clarice calls from across the room, you turn to her nodding before sparing Simon a glance and closing the door, you can hear the breath he releases through the wood, the sound of his armour clattering as he rests against the stone wall.

You make your way towards your maid, “What is going on?” 

“The Prince has requested your presence in the gardens” Her voice is giddy as he sits you down, fussing with your hair.

“The gardens?”

“Isn’t it lovely”

“He hates the gardens”

“Aye but you love them”

“Yes, I do, is he so intent on ruining everything”

Her eyes widen “Don’t speak like that child, heaven forbid anyone else hear you” 

“Yes how terrible that would be” You respond, your tone laced with sarcasm

You sit for a few minutes while Clarice fixes your hair, helping you up to fit you into your dress, murmuring quiet apologies as she tightens your corset.

“It’s not enough they force me to stay in this castle, he must force the air from my lungs with this torture device” Your hands run over the boning of the corset,

“He just wants you to look perfect, and you do” She runs a soft hand over your cheek, “Now come, the Prince is waiting”

You huff a strangled breath, crossing the room to exit, Simon's frame lurking in the corner of your eye as you exit the room, the shuffling of his armour loud behind you as he follows you through the halls.

“You need not follow me everywhere, I am perfectly safe within the walls”

He doesn’t respond but keeps in pace with you five feet behind, you stop abruptly, turning to him as he freezes,

“I mean it, I have enough eyes on me already”

“May I speak freely My lady” His eyes stare straight ahead

“If you must”

He takes a breath, turning his gaze to you, your body suddenly nervous under his stare,

“The people in this castle hold allegiance to the Prince, not you”

“I am to marry the Prince, they are loyal to me”

“They are loyal to Guilder”

His words connect in your mind, your face dropping in realization, “And I am the enemy of Guilder”

“I swore an oath to protect you, not the crown”

“Very well” You nod, turning on your heel and walking down the halls.

You stand at the entrance to the gardens, the familiar greenery flooding your vision, the guards at the archway bow their heads addressing you, letting you pass. In the light it’s easier to find your way to the centre, the twisting vines and bushes of flowers leading the way, the sound of the Prince's voice echoing throughout the maze, guiding you.

“My love” He shouts, one arm extended towards you while the other nurses a cup of wine,

“My Prince” You curtsey, avoiding his stare,

“How are you this morning?” He’s drunk already

“Very well thank you, and yourself”

“Wonderful” He moves toward you, stumbling slightly over a rock, his eyes move upwards following Simon’s frame, “You’ve brought your guard”

“Of course, he is rather quiet, you won’t notice he’s there”

“He’s hard to miss” He raises his eyebrows, having to force his neck upwards to view Simon's face, “He hasn’t addressed me”

You bite your tongue to hold back any words, simply allowing the men to exchange formalities as Simon bows, the Prince grins, turning back to face you.

“Now, we have much to discuss” He urges you towards a set of chairs beside the fountain, you follow him sitting down, trying to find a position that doesn’t have your dress digging into your ribs as he begins to talk.

“The wedding plans are nearly complete, there are just a few more variables to take care of”

“What variables”

“Well as you know there just simply is not enough room for more people”

“You mean the people of Flourin”

“I do, however by request of my Father, the King of Flourin shall attend”

Your eyes light up, sitting up to make sure you heard him properly, “My father should be there?”

“Yes, something about tradition and the passing of ownership”

“Ownership?”

He looks at you like you’ve asked a ridiculous question, “Yes, he will be passing you to me, you will be under my control”

Your throat dries, the thought never occurred to you that even post marriage you’d have no freedom, assuming that your role as Queen would be more active,

“Yes, of course,” You sit back in your chair,

“And the matter of housing”

“We won’t live in the palace?”

“Gods no, I will live in the palace, you will remain safe at Croft House” The cottage?”

“Yes”

“Should the Queen not live somewhere, proper”

“There is no need, you will come to the palace to perform your wifely duty and then return to your home”

“My wifely duty?”

“Producing an heir, Gods has no one explained your position to you?”

“Apologies my Prince, of course, I must just be tired”

“Nonetheless, you will be escorted there after our wedding night”

The thought plays through your mind, surely there were worse fates than living alone, you never wanted to marry the man but the thought of living separate lives disagreed with you, being locked away in a newer, smaller home stung.

“If that is all, I have things to attend to,” He says

“Yes my Prince” You stand, giving him a curtsey before walking away, you brush past Simon who watches you quietly, following behind you at a quick pace as you make your way out of the gardens.

“To your room Princess?”

You stop in front of the doors to the palace, the idea makes your stomach turn, sitting in your room for the rest of the day while the world goes on outside your door.

“No” You turn, pacing forward past the doors, Simon glances around, trying to figure out what’s going on before following you,

“Princess where are you going”

“I'm not sure”

“Truly, we must get inside”

“Then take me inside” You turn to him, standing sternly as you shrug your shoulders, “What will you do? Will you throw me over your shoulder and haul me past the doors, what would the staff say?”

“Princess” He warns

“Seeing as you aren’t going to do that, and you insist on following me, let us go”

Simon turns behind himself to check for guards, sighing before walking forward, making his way to the stables alongside you. You enter the barn, the walls lined with stalls of horses, the stone floor scattered with hay, you check the room for anyone before approaching one of the horses, reaching a soft hand up slowly to pet its nose, smiling when it accepts your touch.

“Do you mean to ride my lady?”

“I haven’t been able to in a long while” Your eyes are focused on the animal in front of you, its blonde hair tussling as it turns its head, Simon appears by your side.

“Remove your armour”

“Princess”

“It is loud, and dark, if we mean to be quiet your appearance will give us away”

“My lady”

“You may keep your sword if you insist, the rest goes, come on”

You enter the stall, checking around the horse while Simon reluctantly peels his armour off, the clanging on the pieces spooking the horse slightly, forcing you back a step. You move to reach for the saddle when large arms reach over yours, grabbing it from its spot and hoisting it into the air, you turn to him, he’s close enough that if you breathe your chest will touch, craning your neck to glance at his face.

He’s large even without the armour, his broad form not in full view, you hitch your breath slightly as your eyes move down towards his chest, his collarbones peaking out from below his shirt, the close distance allowing you to make out littered scars on his skin, your eyes following the pink lines, you twitch your hand, wanting to trace them.

“Princess”

He pulls your attention back to him, you release a breath, dragging yourself from your thoughts before stepping back, allowing him to place the saddle on the horse, you watch his arms flex as he tightens the straps around the animal, pulling them tight before backing up.

You step forward, bracing your weight to pull up onto the horse before strong hands grip your waist, lifting you with ease onto the saddle, the action surprising you, his touch makes your skin hot, you lock eyes with him, he looks like a different person without the weight of his armour, less beast and more human.

“Are you alright?” His voice breaks your trance, pulling your gaze from him shyly,

“Yes, thank you”

He nods, moving from the stall to saddle his own horse before mounting up,

“You’ll follow me”

“You know where you’re going?”

“I walked these fields for weeks, Princess, do you trust me?”

You think for a moment, about all the consequences if you’re caught but the idea of freedom reigns, “I do.”

He digs his heel into the belly of his horse, signalling it to move and you do the same, following closely behind him, you trot your horse down a small gravel path, hidden by a line of trees before stopping at a clearing. The land is vast and green, with nothing in front of you except the sun as you stare, Simon meets your side,

“It’s beautiful,” You say, you stare focused on the horizon

“It is” He isn’t watching the sun, his head is turned to you, the orange light painting your skin in a warm glow.

Without thinking you thrash your reigns, settling forward in your saddle as your horse begins galloping down the field, Simon yells to you to slow down but the wind passing your ears drowns him out, the wind on your skin feels too good as you rush across the grass, the trees passing by your side.

You turn back to find Simon but he’s gone, you laugh lightly to yourself at the prospect of outrunning him, finally free of anyone's eyes, you’re shocked back to reality when your horse bucks into the air, your hands struggling to grab at the reigns to steady yourself.

Your efforts prove futile, the force of the animal throwing you from its back as you land in the dirt, the air knocked from your lungs, you look up in a daze, the voices of two men filling your ears as they stand over you.

Their armour gleams in the sunlight, their blue capes swishing by your frame,

“You shouldn’t be out here Princess” He extends an arm for you to take, pulling you from the ground as your palms brush the dirt from your dress, you face the men, clad in their armour as you peer around for any signs of your own knight, you’re defenceless.

“The Prince will want you back in your room” One of their hands grabs your arm, tugging you towards their horse,

“The Prince need not concern himself with my activities”

“Apologies my lady but we’re under strict orders to keep you inside”

“And what about my orders?” You yank your arm from his grip

“We don’t take orders from you” The other man steps closer behind you, forcing your body forward, caging you between the men,

“Best get going” The men box you against the horse, your eyes dart around in panic as your back collides with the side of the horse, forcing a whinny from the animal.

“I suggest you back away” A shadow is cast over you, turning to see him, he’s blocking the sun, his form appearing dark as he sits on his horse.

“Princes orders, run off low-born”

Simon wastes no time drawing his sword, pointing towards the men who reach for their own weapons, “I will escort the Princess back”

The men stand off for a second, staring each other down, Simon holds stern, his dark gaze pinning the men down.

“Very well” They move their hands from their side, stepping back, you rush toward Simon who extends a hand to you, grabbing yours and pulling you onto his horse, you settle behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as your heart races, he sheaths his sword, moving his hands back to the reigns before signalling the horse to move.

The horse gallops quickly, your body clings to Simon for safety, your fingers digging into his flesh as you rest your cheek on his back.

“Princess”

His words pass through your ears,

“Princess?”

You pull back from him, sitting up, “You left me”

“I was right behind you”

“No, I looked, you weren’t there”

“I was” He steps off the horse, extending a hand to you, “They would’ve-” You stop yourself, your chest hollow at the thoughts floating in your mind.

“I would never let them touch you” Hi hand steadies on your waist, helping you off the saddle as he watches your eyes, “No one will ever hurt you, my lady”

His gaze is intense, your body nervous under his stare, you pull yourself back from his grip blinking at him, “I will see you soon Ser” You exit the stables quickly, making your way to your room where you slam the door, bracing yourself against it as tears prick your eyes, you’d never felt so vulnerable, what started as a taste of freedom was quickly squashed by the Prince's ever-present control over you, everywhere you go he has eyes, you are never alone.

Night falls over the palace, the candles in your room are the only source of light as the shadows loom in the dark corners, the air outside is cool, the breeze washing in from the windows has goosebumps forming on your skin as you sit in your bed, alone with your thoughts, you were to be married in three days, moved to a new home where you’d be confined to a life of solitude, even from your husband the idea made you feel hollow, the prospect of having no one beside you, to comfort or entertain you.

The hours pass quietly in your room, you stay sitting up, restless, knowing that even if you tried sleep would not come, you watch the moon arc through the sky, rather ironic you think, the moon so often spoke about as a partner of the sun and yet they rarely ever meet, two forces destined to be together but kept apart by unseen forces. You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a quiet knock on your door, the sound concerning considering how late it was, you don’t think to cover yourself, assuming it was Clarice you stride towards the entrance, pulling open the heavy doors.

“Is something wrong?” You look into the hall for any sign of commotion before settling your gaze on Simon, he seemed nervous, a new sight considering he was always confident in himself. “Is something wrong Simon?”

“I do not believe so my lady”

“So why have you woken me?”

“I did not believe you to be asleep”

You open your mouth to speak but stop yourself, turning your gaze to the floor for a moment, “Well I was not”

“Are you not tired?”

“Unfortunately sleep does not come easy to me”

“I understand all too well”

You give him a weak smile, “Why did you knock?”

“I wanted to apologize”

“For what?”

“For making you feel unsafe”

“It was not you that worried me, Simon”

“Yes but if I had been there from the start I-”

You cut him off, “You need not worry about it, it is forgotten”

He nods lightly, “Do you still trust me?” He looks at you sheepishly

“With my life”

He fights the smile that threatens his cheeks, thinking for a moment before looking down the halls, checking for guards, “Might we go for a walk?”

Your smile fades, “I am not allowed out”

“I assure you Princess, no one will see us” He extends a gloved hand toward you, without thinking you take it in yours, following behind him as he navigates the hallways, making sure to remain undetected. You fight the giggles that bubble in your chest, your heart thudding in your ears as you twist down corridors and rush downstairs, you arrive at one of the servant doors, Simon opening it for you to step out, breathing in the aroma of the gardens, the flowers and night air flooding your lungs as you clothes your eyes.

A strong gust of wind blows by and you’re suddenly aware of your lack of clothes, the only thing separating your skin from the air is a thin nightgown, you fold your arms over your chest, your fingers rubbing your skin, Simon notices your state, his arms reaching behind his back to unclip his cape, wrapping it around your shoulders. Your senses are invaded by his scent, his hands are apprehensive to pull back, allowing your fingers to settle on top of his as you pull the cape tight around your chest, his gaze softening as you look at him, a silent thank you in your smile.

“Will you take me to the gardens?”

He pulls his hands from yours, placing them back at his sides “Not tonight Princess, the Prince has guards posted around the palace”

“Where shall we hide?” Your tone is playful, it amuses him, a light chuckle coming from his lips, the noise making you bite back a smile, you’d never seen him genuinely joyful, always a sour look on his face as he stood guard.

“Come with me” He walks forward, leading you as you trail behind, your nerves giddy as you sneak around the palace walls, Simon peeks his head around corners, checking for guards before turning back to you, giving you the okay to proceed.

You walk for a few minutes, through bunches of trees, and down small hills, Simon’s hand is always there to guide you in the dark, he shields you with his body anytime he hears a rustle, making your way further from the palace. You walk for what feels like an hour, turning back the glow of the candles in the palace windows are your only indicator of distance, watching the lights fade as you continue to walk.

“Just past this tree line”

You quicken your pace, catching up to him as he guides you through the trees, pulling back stray branches to allow you through, there's a small clearing ahead, a pond illuminated by the moonlight, the gleam in the water sparkles, your hands drop the cape from your back, your legs carrying you towards the water.

You look down into the pond, catching your reflection before you realize that there’s no noise, you turn to Simon who moves closer to you, darting your focus around the small forest, you hear nothing, no bugs or animals, not even the wind.

“It’s silent?”

“It is”

“How did you come upon this place?”

“I like to be outside when I cannot sleep, I found the pond a few weeks ago, I come here to think”

“To think? About what?”

He hesitates with his answer, trying to choose his words, “My family, mostly”

“I think about my family often as well, I am sorry that yours are gone” Your eyes are sincere as they move up to look at his.

“Yes well, it is a long time now”

“Do you miss them terribly?”

He lets out a deep breath, “Everyday”

You watch him for a moment, an air of understanding between the two of you, turning back to glance at the pond, “Thank you for showing me this”

“We get very few things of our own in this life, it is nice to share what I have with someone I-” He cuts himself off, stumbling over his words for a moment, “Care about”

Your attention is drawn toward the sky, streaks of light flashing in your sight, “Shooting stars” You gasp, turning to Simon for a moment, “Make a wish”

You watch the lights fly by you, their glow illuminating the sky for just brief seconds, “What did you wish for Simon” You smile turning to him,

“I thought that if I told you, it will not come true”

“Superstition, I wished to be free”

“You are free Princess” 

“This is not freedom, this is rebellion, very different Ser” 

“Careful Princess, wouldn’t want to be branded treasonous”

“I am Flourin, by birth I am treasonous” You laugh

“Very well, two rebels we shall be”

“Two rebels” You nod, giggling to yourself

“Come now, we should return to the palace”

“A few more minutes I beg”

He tilts his head, watching you scrunch your face at him, crossing his arms over his chest before nodding, you smile wide, even in the dark he can make out the gleam in your eye as you look at him, he wishes he could stare into them forever, watching you turn and run around the pond.

He sits against a large tree, its leaves cascading around him, settling in piles around his form as he watches you explore the terrain, he can’t help but smile at your fascination with the plants, he lets you wander for a while, just watching you.

The sun peaking over the horizon catches your attention, alerting you to the time as you turn and face Simon, he looks so relaxed like he belongs there, his eyes are glued to your form as you run towards him, throwing yourself to the ground beside him in a fit of joy.

“It has been too long since I have seen flowers that are not blue or green”

“The pink ones are peony” He points towards the bush of pink flowers, “Those orange ones, marigolds” You turn towards the bundle of bright orange and yellow, the rising sun paints the area in a glow of warm colours, the new heat warming your skin as you follow his line of sight.

“What about those dark ones,” You say, pointing towards a sprouting of dark red, almost black flowers.

“Dahlias, they say that those are a symbol of love and devotion, perhaps the Prince might pick you some”

“Perhaps the Prince would pick me a bundle of hemlock and claim ignorance” You huff

“Are you truly so miserable my lady?”

“I do not know, sometimes I feel lucky to be given this life, other times I wish I was anybody else, allowed to exist on my own accord”

“You have no friends at court?” “I have you” You hug your legs to your chest, grinning at him,

“I am your knight, not your friend”

“Can you not be both?” He shakes his head lightly, standing from his spot, “Let us get you back before someone notices I have kidnapped the future Queen”

You stand, brushing the dirt from your dress before moving forward to pick up Simon’s cape from the ground, tugging it around your form and following him towards the palace, walking in silence together as the sun slowly rises higher into the sky, lighting your path.

[sentientgolfball]

How do you think Ifrit deals with the guilt?

It eats him alive every single day. It’s always somewhere in the back of his mind. Every time Dew so much as coughs Ifrit has to choke down an apology. He spends hours in the chapel knelt in front of the stained glass of the Morning Star begging for forgiveness whenever Dew ends up in the infirmary.

He’s reason Dew is like this. It’s all his fault. He was a perfectly fine fire ghoul, probably could have spent years playing for the Ghost Project. But no. He had to ruin everything by letting his heart speak louder than his words.

Zephyr said they were retiring. Said playing night after night and traveling the word was too much on their body. And like the loyal dog he is, Ifrit followed. He was so caught up imaging being separated from Zephyr that he didn’t stop and think about the consequences.

He didn’t think Dew would use his absence as a way burn himself alive. Fuck if only he had known. If had known he never would have stepped down. He would have played forever if it meant Dew would avoid the pyre.

He never visited Dew in the infirmary after the ritual. He couldn’t stand to see his burnt, broken body only alive because of human machines and a constant stream of quintessence. It was all his fault. Dew was covered in blisters and smelled of rot because of him.

When he found out Dew went into cardiac arrest and had to be resuscitated it was like the world shattered. It was already bad enough, but now Dew’s blood was on his hands. He was assured time and time again Dew was alive, they brought him back, but that didn’t matter to Ifrit. Dew died. His heart stopped. Ifrit murdered him. He killed Dewdrop for his own selfish reasons. Because why? He had to follow Zephyr everywhere they went. What was wrong with him?

He spent nearly every night after the transition in the chapel. Praying to any of the Lords Below who would listen to heal Dew. He begged them to take his life in favor of Dew’s if that is what it took. Dew didn’t deserve to suffer because of his actions. He begged and he begged and he begged.

Even when Dew was cleared from the infirmary and was allowed to begin learning guitar Ifrit’s guilt followed. He still couldn’t meet Dew’s eyes. Alpha had to mentor Dew because Ifrit just. Couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch Dew wince when he moved too fast. Couldn’t watch the way he gasped for breath after the long walk to the practice room as his lungs adjusted to no longer having gills.

But he sees the way Dew looks at him. He knows it hurts when Ifrit leaves the room Dew enters. More than anything he wants to hold Dew and kiss him and tell him he’s sorry, but the guilt has seeped through every part of his brain. He can’t. He hurt Dew. All he can do is hurt. Even when he tries to do the right thing he just hurts.

Do you think he deals with the guilt by wearing a big smile and helping everyone to the point of exhaustion?