#the sign of the cross never fails to make me scream

[b0bbynash]

[diejager]

Just the boys and König finding sh scars on reader, and/or helping them stitch a wound? Platonic, if possible

I’m gonna make the assumption (I might be horribly wrong about this…) that sh means self-harm???

Cw: Self-harm, blood, scars, protective behaviour, helicopter parent (Price and Laswell), angst?, fluff?, stitches, tell me if I missed any.

There’s a certain level of… panic in their eyes, the rising waves of fright until it threatened to drown them in a thick and dark abyss, swallowing their minds whole at the single fear of losing you to something they could have stopped; prevention they thought, a plan B in case plan A failed, but if they didn’t know, how could they have time to set it up? König almost had a heart attack when he broke the door at Gaz’s call, finding you slumped against the bathroom door, one hand on the door knob and another - the bloodied one - limply clutching your phone, eyes blinking blearily at them, clouded in confusion and fatigue. 

It didn’t take them long to call the rest, rushing you to the infirmary after your accident, cutting too deep and risking death from your slight slip of the hand. Laswell and Price were called, finding the four of them seated beside you after they stormed into the sterile room. You looked ashamed, not about the act of cutting yourself to feel more than the depression and darkness in your heart, but the act of being caught, letting them know of your… ways to refresh your mind. The shameful tilt of your head downwards, staring with heavy eyes at your bandaged wrist, cleaned and stitched up. 

Ghost had forced your sleeves up, rolling them until your biceps to show the extent of it, the many lines, crisscrossing in old and jagged lines of paler skin, standing starkly from the usual flush. He wasn’t disappointed at you, never, from a person who cut themselves to another, he was more so disappointed in himself from not catching the signs —a dark omen of pain and sorrow, forgetting that he was blinded by your happy smile to catch the tired gleam in your eyes. 

Both he and König knew the pain, the new scars that no one asked for, but kept adding and adding until it would eventually tear your arm off, limb from limb, piece by piece until you lost the will to keep on. He took on smoking instead, as self-destructive as cutting was, but the thicket of nicotine would calm his loud mind, and König had a therapist, someone he was… willing to talk to when things got too hard. They understood and felt, but failed you all the same, despite everything they vowed, they almost lost you because they were too blind to see past your thin mask. 

It was a feeling shared by the two sergeants, the more sensitive and sympathetic of the bunch, more in tune with heartfelt affection and human socialisation than the others, and the two weren’t afraid to voice it. The anger at themselves, the rage that crossed Soap’s face when he curled his fingers, bleeding his palms in the same manner you bled your feelings, hidden and alone in your dark room, bathroom and floor stained in the iron-rich ichor. 

Gaz made a face, lips pulled down, brows pinched and eyes wet, tears fluttering at the edge of his lashes. He was a soft man, feeling and sympathetic, nearing empathetic whenever he wanted to feel what you felt, but in a crisis like this, where the thought had crossed his mind once or twice, but never acted it, he was lost. Confused and afraid, a daze where he thought that - perhaps - was how you felt when he wasn’t there to ease your pain, ignorant of the subtle signs of agony in your heart, screaming for help when your mouth wouldn’t utter a single word. 

Price and Laswell hovered, combat helicopters roaming around you for any danger, watchful and worried, confident in their helping hand, but worried you would need help. Wanting to help, but afraid that needing it would mean something much deeper, and today was just the boiling point of it, the discovery of your sorrow and their dread and disgust at their inactivity. Laswell had made a few phone calls, her voice hushed as she spoke, eyeing Price for corrections and agreements until they came to the same consensus. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would have considered them your parents, loving and caring, tender and affectionate, just as the rest of them, all friends and teammates you considered brothers. Yet, there was a stigma to it, one imposed by normal people that made you feel a certain way. Perhaps that why you hadn’t spoke about it, the dreadful need to keep it hidden until it was forced into the light. 

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore, luv,” Price promised, his low and rumbling voice that exhumed calm tenderness.

That was all it took you to sob, a dam creaking and breaking, letting your tears flood outwards while you clutched at the lapel of his jacket, hiding away in the familiar musk and cologne of his parental figure.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[httpsghostie]

Beneath the Surface

Part one

Part two

A/N: First post! English isn't my first language so I'm sorry in advance if there's anything wrong with the writing.

Can't stop thinking about this man, it's unhealthy at this point

Brought you something filthy, hope you enjoy

Requests are open and appreciated!

Summary: Simon, your father's best friend, shows up in the middle of the night to give you a shoulder to put your legs head on.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, unprotected sex (don't b silly wrap your weenie), p in v, implied age gap, choking, breeding kink (?

masterlist

NSFW below the cut

It had been an exhausting day and you felt like everything just decided to go wrong, all in one day. It started small, your sleeve getting caught in the door handle when you were cleaning the house, then it became a snowball. Accidentally hitting your foot on the corner of the bed, stumbling on the bucket and falling over it, spilling the dirty water all over the floor. At the end of the day you were overwhelmed, even the shower decided not to work properly, and you couldn't stand being near anything that could breathe. 

But there you were, endlessly trying to achieve the perfect eyeliner look because your college friends wanted to party. Failed attempts and sore eyelids lead you to a breakdown, and your attempts were soon washed away by your tears. Everything was too much and you just wanted a good night of sleep on a simple friday night. You sobbed in the bathroom as you tried to calm down, but your eyes were puffy and your face was swollen. The makeup was left on the bathroom sink and you went straight to your room to put on something more comfortable. 

Your parents weren't home, somehow when your dad was around he'd take your mom on late night dates. Simon, on the other hand, didn't have a wife or kids to come home to, and being your father's best friend, you probably saw the man even more than you saw your dad. He was almost always around when he was deployed, he had the keys to your parents house and he'd just show up. 

That wasn't exactly the best moment for him to appear in your living room when he realized the scream you let out. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare 'ya" he said. The room was lit by the TV screen and hopefully he wouldn't see your crying face. You sigh and walk to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, you end up making some popcorn and when you sneakily try to go straight back to your room, a cold hand grabs your arm. 

"Spit it out" he said. He knew you, usually you were happy and outgoing around him, and now you were just irritated and, of course, he couldn't comprehend. Your father didn't know but you were really close to Simon, he was kinda the cool uncle while your actual dad was strict and kind of annoying sometimes, Simon really made your high school years better just by being around when he could. 

"Not your business" you said, storming out. He followed your steps to your room, where you sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket over your legs, the bag of popcorn on your lap. He stood by the door frame, leaning against it, arms crossed as he eyed you. 

"Someone's grumpy" he tsked. "Come on, love, tell me what's wrong" he said as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. Something about him calling you love always caught you off guard, but now that you were in fact an adult with full knowledge of your feelings and needs, it made your stomach flip. 

"Nothing, Simon" you rolled your eyes at him as he sat in front of you on the bed. He made you a confused frown and laid a gentle hand on your knee. You could never keep things from him, his gaze burned you inside whenever he felt you were lying. "Just.. bad day, ok?" You sigh. 

"Bad day, huh?" You felt him mocking, but you couldn't care. "Elaborate." It felt so stupid to be angry because all the small things went wrong during the day, when you knew he had bigger problems to deal with in whatever army life he signed up for. 

"Everything went wrong today," you start, "I don't know, everything was either irritating me or hurting me, I even spilled the dirty water on me and the clean floor-" he cuts you off, laughing, you give him a killing stare. He holds the bridge of his nose and makes a disgusted face. 

"Have you showered?" His mood lightens you up and you chuckle, pushing him playfully. 

"Yes, I've showered." You say. "Cold shower, by the way." 

"What's wrong with the shower?" He asks and you shrug. "Aye I'll take a look at it later, 'k?" You nod. "Anything else that's bothering you?" God, it's like he could see through you. 

"I was going out with my friends," you explain shyly, "I couldn't finish my makeup and got frustrated, so I texted them saying I was sick." 

"And are you?" He tilts his head at you, you shake your head. "Why did you lie then, huh?" 

"Look I don't need a lecture on what to do, alright, Si? I just need to rest." The bag of popcorn on your lap became cold when you first took a handful to eat. 

"Want a massage?" He smirked. Of course you wanted a massage from those big, calloused hands of his that would fit perfectly around your neck. You stared at his hand and bit your lower lip, nodding. 

He gently pulled the blanket down from your legs and adjusted himself. You turned the TV on and he started to massage your feet. You let out a soft whimper as he ran his fingers against your skin, just now noticing how he shifted uncomfortably under your calves. 

Of course there was one more thing your dad didn't know: how touchy his best friend was with his daughter. You could say it was because he was a skirt chaser, or probably just touch starved, but the explanation didn't matter when his hand was traveling up your thigh under a blanket when you and your family were trying to watch a movie together. It was never more than this though, occasional touches that left you aching for him, hot and bothered. 

A movie played on the screen as he continued to massage your feet. There was something so sexual about him, the flexing muscles on his arm, his chest going up and down with his breathing, the growing bulge on his pants you could feel with your ankle and made a pool of arousal on your panties. 

Your shorts were... well, short, and he couldn't help but stare at you while you closed your eyes and imagined that monster of a man pinning you down and fucking you rough. More hums and soft whimpers escaped from your throat and they were going straight to Simon's dick. A malicious hand caressed your inner thigh and you opened your eyes with a confused, but hopeful look. He wasn't looking at you, and your stomach dropped when you saw a sex scene playing on the screen. You close your legs unsubconsciously and he looks at you. 

"'M sorry, love" he takes his hand off your thigh and chuckles. The nickname sent you over the edge, something snapping inside of you. He feels the way you shiver and how tense you seem, so he takes that bag of barely touched popcorn and places it by the bedside table and then land a warm hand on your waist. "What's on your mind, princess?" 

Well, nothing besides him naked, wasn't it obvious? But you couldn't say that, your mind was racing back and forth, and when you were unable to form a believable sentence, he caught you staring for too long. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled as his fingers traced circles on your waist. You can't remember the last time he tried doing this to you, but you know damn right you should've taken the chance to get laid, but God was it hard to understand this man. He'd tease you and pretend it was nothing, he'd leave you begging for him and say he couldn't touch you. Sometimes you just wanted to punch him for that. 

And yes, you found other ways to get satisfied. Got yourself a boyfriend during recess when neither Simon or your dad were around to pester the poor guy. But eventually they came home from wherever they were, and your father wasn't exactly happy about it, nor Simon, in fact, Simon was even more pissed than your dad. 

You couldn't say how many minutes you spent eyeing the man in front of you, but he grew impatient. The hand on your waist was gone and now spreading your legs to his liking, his body now towering over you. 

"If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours I'm gonna have to find out for myself." He said in a low, seductive voice. 

You gave in. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck and you kissed him feverly, a sloppy, wet kiss, he pressed his body onto yours and you could feel how hard he was on your lower body. But Simon was eager, he couldn't wait for it anymore, he needed to be inside of you. 

He yanked your shorts off, throwing it somewhere across the room, you also took his shirt off, revealing his perfect toned muscles and the scars that adorned it. He unbuckled his belt with one hand as the other one successfully removed your shirt. He didn't even bother taking his pants off, he just pushed them and his boxers down enough to let his dick free. He aligned it with your wet cunt, smearing your arousal all around your folds. 

"'S fucking wet already, huh?" He rubbed two fingers on your clit as he jerked himself off with his spare hand. "Can't imagine what you were thinking 'bout" he smirked. 

He put his tip on your entrance, looking at you for a sign of approval. You nod. He slowly pushed his length inside of you until it bottomed out. You clenched around him as you moaned. His body started moving faster as you adjusted to his size. He was big, you've felt it before with your hands, but you've never actually seen it. 

"Fuck, Si," you moan, "faster." You sounded like a desperate whore and he enjoyed it. You weren't exactly used to him not teasing you until you were on the verge of tears, so when he started to pound into you, you couldn't hold your moans. 

"Needy little slut." He grabbed your hips in place, almost using you like a fleshlight. He groaned, his chest rising with the heavy breathing. Fuck, that man was hot. 

His hands let go of your hips and held the back of your knees, so you were spreading even more. He watched as his dick abused your swollen and wet cunt, and he could cum just at the sight of his pretty princess getting ruined by his fat cock. You felt the cold metal on his belt hit the back of your thighs as he gave you deep thrusts. 

One of his hands traveled to your folds, his thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. As he was fucking your brains out, you dig your nails on his shoulders and earned a few moans along with a smirk. 

You were both really close when you heard a car park in the driveway, your eyes widened at Simon as he didn't seem to have listened to the sound of your parents getting home. 

"Fuck, Simon, my parents" you tried to push him away but his grip on you got stronger. He placed both of his hands on your neck and squeezed it. 

"Shut up" he whispered, not altering his pace. "Cum f' me, love" he demanded. Your hand rubbed your clit as he fucked you even harder. It was impossible to hold it back anymore and you reached your climax under him, your legs shaking from the overstimulation of his non-stopping thrusts. You heard the front door getting open. "'M gonna fill this pretty cunt of yours, huh? 'S that what you want?" He whispered in your ear. You could only slightly nod. "Good girl." He gave you a few more deep, shaky thrusts as he spilled his load into you and pulled out. 

"Y/n? We're home" you heard your mom shout from downstairs. Simon quickly pulled his pants up and put his shirt back on, throwing you your shorts that were across the room, tossed on the ground. He quickly got out and went to the bathroom, pretending he was fixing the shower. 

"Simon?" Your dad shouted in a worried and anxious tone, he obviously saw his friend's car in the driveway, and what was his friend doing here in the night when his daughter was alone? 

"Here" he shouted back from the bathroom, your dad ran upstairs to check if everything was alright and found Simon trying to fix the shower. 

"Everything alright? Heard noises" your dad asked. 

"Y/n gave me a call, she wanted to shower but apparently the shower wasn't working" you overheard Simon explain. He stepped out, turned it on and let the water run for a bit. "It's working now." 

You have absolutely no clue what the fuck he did with the shower in such a short period of time, but the effort was well appreciated. He tried to excuse himself out, but your dad insisted for him to stay the night. You waited in your room until your parents went to bed to get out, the back of your thighs were marked from his belt and your neck was red from his grip, not to mention the oozing cum on your thighs that your panties and shorts weren't able to hold. 

Simon was in the guest room when he heard you walk to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned, and of fucking course he wouldn't let you do it alone, he's finally got a taste of you after all these years holding back and he won't stop until he's fucking his cum inside you again as the running water muffles the sounds of how good he makes you feel.

[yourjughead]

Boyfriend Part 2

Sweet Pea X Reader

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

Sweet Pea pov

I made the short walk, well in my rage, the short run to Jugheads trailer. Lights out no body's home. Hm. Where would the usual spot for him and yn be, the thought making me feel sick. Whyte Wyrm? Nah Jughead was rarely there. If I was a horrible human being where would I go hmmmmm. Ah that diner on the Northside!

3rd Person 

You crossed the threshold of the Whyte Wyrm as quickly as you could, still processing what just happened to you. Arriving at the bar top, Toni sailed over to you smiling. 

"Hey YN, How'd the rekindling of the romance go?"

"It didn't, pass me one of the spare burners would ya". Toni reached into a large ceramic jar on one of the top shelves of the bar, retrieved a phone with a sim taped to back and tossed it to you. You gave a small smile in thanks and began to set it up. 

"Am I allowed to ask what happened or...."

"Ugh Toni what a mess, he thinks I'm dating Jughead" 

"Well aren't you?" 

"Yeah aren't you?" The sound of your father's voice joinging the conversation startled the two of you. Toni took a rag from the bar top and quickly exited the conversation to grab your father a replacement drink.

"Yeah Dad, of course" you tried to give a smile, barely convincing him. 

"Right well the two of you together is the Serpent dream. Me and FP are delighted, you settled with one person who's right for you and Jones kept away from that busybody blonde girl" your father gave you a wink before taking his drink from Toni.

"Speaking of which, I gotta go meet him" you nodded to the both as your new phone lit up to life. 

~ Simultaneously across town Sweet Pea POV

I raced across the old bridge on my motorbike, not fully knowing where I was going but closely following the trail of picket fences. What a sad existence this truly is. I finally came across the neon sign of Pop's Dinner through the torrential rain. 

From outside I could see Jughead and the outline of the back of her, seeminly wearing a hat. He looked so happy. Fuck him. I could see the two shake with laughter. I really messed up. I mean sure it hurts but we were never really exclusive and besides we could never be public like this. She deserves someone she can publicly love. I should just disappear. 

I went to push off again but then stopped as watch Jones lean across the table to kiss her. This is really the end. Her hat fell to the floor as he moved from her. Then it caught my eye. A long slicked back almost glowing blonde ponytail. That's not YN. I couldn't help but smile so wide. Thank God it's not YN! Wait.....thats not YN. Holy shit that's not YN! He's cheating on YN! 

3rd person 

Sweet Pea leapt from the bike so fast it nearly came crashing to the soaked gravel. Launching himself through the doors of the almost deserted diner has the few eyes that were there lock onto him. Including Jugheads. 

Jughead leapt from his chair, immediately putting his hands up in truce but it was too late. Sweet Pea had moved quickly across the diner to catch Jughead by the collar and push him into the back wall, all while leaving the blonde screaming. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you Jones?! You're gonna chest on YN?! I swear I'm gonna kill you?!" Sweet Pea barked as Jughead was losing colour in his face, the blonde girl trying as she best she could to seperate the two, failing greatly.

"You-dont-under-stand" Jughead choked out. Pop's ran for the phone to call the police as Sweet Pea glared deep within Jugheads eyes, overcome with grief and anger. 

From outside you could see what was happening, bolting in off your own bike and straight down to the bottom of the diner. 

"Sweet Pea stop!" You screamed, managing to wiggle between the two. Sweet Peas grip completly released from Jughead, sending him to the ground, Betty quickly tending to him.

"YN he's cheating on you with her!" 

"YN I thought you were gonna tell him?" Betty looked up at you both with pleading eyes. 

"Tell me what?" Confusion painted Sweet Peas face. "Tell me what?!" He tried again, banging his hand off the wall he just had Jughead against. 

"Me and Jughead -" you were cut off by the sound of sirens filling the car park. Both you and Sweet Pea gave panicked glances to one another, neither could afford another trip to the station.

You grabbed Sweet Peas hand, pulling him through to the girls bathroom. You went to grab anything to break through the window but turned to the crash of the glass from Sweet Peas fist. He groaned as his hand began to instantly swell with blood. You couldn't help but roll your eyes before carefully passing through the window, Sweet Pea trying his best to follow you without adding to the collection of cuts. 

You ran through the drenched woods behind the diner, down the banks and beneath the trees before arriving at the bridge between the two worlds. 

"They have the bikes, they'll go straight to the trailer park" Sweet Pea breathed out from beneath the shelter of the bridge. 

"I don't have plates on mine" you glanced out checking if anyone followed. 

"- and when they search yours it'll register to Greendale" Sweet Pea couldn't help but laugh at that, the Serpents think of it all. 

"Show me your hand" you took his bleeding extremity from his side to examine it under the above street lights. Little shards of glass shone out as you gently removed the larger pieces.

"That's all I can do without the kit, we'll sort it when we're home" he nodded at you thankfully before sliding down the wall of the bridge to the dirt, you following suit. 

"I hope FP doesn't find out about this, he's not gonna take it well that you went for his son"

"I don't care, he had it coming"

"Sweet Pea -" 

"He can't take you from me and then cheat on you YN" he cut across you, staring at the stream of water parallel to your feet. 

"Sweets I tried to tell you tonight, I tried to tell you before battle Royale broke out" 

"I'm sorry I flew off the handle....tell me what? You knew he was cheating on you?"

"We'd have to be actually dating for him to cheat on me" you looked worriedly over at the increasingly confused face of your partner in crime. 

"Jughead and I are just faking, he wants to keep dating the Betty girl and I want to keep being with you, it's just to keep our parents off of our backs" 

"No that's not true" Sweet Pea stood and began pacing. 

"I told you he has a gift for making up stories, this is one of them. Our dads were getting more and more on us about why we weren't together, this way it would stop them from asking questions. I wanted to tell you sooner but Jughead said we needed you to believe it first, to help Dad believe it" you stood to look at him.

"No no no no this isn't happening because that would mean I over reacted for nothing" 

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you over reacted, I'm sorry I lied" he stopped pacing at these words. The rain continued to almost bubble off of the rocks surrounding you both. 

"I'm sorry I got so angry and that I smashed your phone" 

"I'm sorry you ended up pinning Jughead to a wall" 

"Yeah I'm not sorry about that" you hit him playfullly into the chest at his jesting. Silence wrapped around the bridge again, the rain slowly easing. You put out your arms in truce and Sweet Pea happy wrapped his around your waist, holding you into his chest. 

"Sweets, Jughead and I have to keep pretending for awhile, just until it's believable that our break up would have no turning back" 

"Do you have to call him boyfriend though?" you gave a small smile at Sweet Peas evident insecurity. 

"Yeah but it's only pretend, you're the one I want to be with. Let's start walking home, I'm sure those cops are half way to Greendale by now" Sweet Pea gave a small nodd to your voice before taking your hand and pulling you up the bank and to the bridge. You dropped it then. 

"I can't risk being seen with you like that, I'm sorry" 

"It's okay YN, you can make it up to me at home" He winked and you were happy to see the playfulness return to him .

"By the way you owe me a new phone" 

"Have your boyfriend pay for one"

[qin-qin16]

cw.: Murder Sans x Reader, movie date! Reader is a yapper and Murder is a listener, fluff, minimally disgusting?, he does something to shut up Reader and it is not with a kiss…

note: To my bestie @what-have-i-unleashed, thank you for the idea!

Not even the screams from the television could capture your attention, not while your eyes were so intently fixed on watching Murder, hoping to hear some comment about the film — which, no matter the scene, continued to fail to surprise the skeleton beside you, even after viscera are thrown at the screen.

"I knew we should have put on Scream; at least you'd seem more interested in finding out who the killer is…" you murmur with your mouth full, feeling the popcorn between your teeth quickly soften. "But it's not like you would take long to figure it out either; you always seem to know who the killer is before the movie even reaches halfway, and that's pretty unfair, you know?" This time, you grumble louder, turning your attention back to the screen with disinterest — with the possible female protagonist running almost naked from the masked killer.

Murder remains silent, his face turned toward the television just like yours. The bucket of popcorn being the only barrier separating you two on the couch.

“This is worse than Friday the 13th, seriously. At least that’s a classic; but this? Total garbage.” You relax against the couch, giving the carpet a light kick with your foot. What’s the point of watching a bad movie with someone if they don’t laugh at how terrible it is? Not even to complain about the awful acting or sneer at how predictable the plot is.

I knew I should have invited Killer to watch this with me; at least he would have made some creepy comments about how scientifically inaccurate these deaths are.

“I think next time we should watch something with suspense or psychological horror— whoa!” You didn’t even notice when Murder crossed the imaginary barrier between you two, only realizing it when he nearly tipped the entire bucket of popcorn onto the floor in his attempt to get closer.

Your words caught in your throat when, finally, two red dots met your gaze — that captivating turquoise eye overshadowed by the crimson light.

Murder brings one of his gloved hands to your face — and your mind, your little dirty mind, starts to wonder if he might want to make out with you. But, of course, with Murder, it's never something as simple as a make-out session in the shadows of the room.

Your eyes had barely closed when, suddenly, a light pressure on your neck made you catch your breath. Murder, still staring at you with those red dots, gripped your neck with a certain firmness while his thumb gently stroked your throat — you couldn’t tell if it was a taunt or a genuine touch.

You try to find something in those eye sockets, anything that might explain this abrupt behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for him to grab your neck like that suddenly, but it usually came with some kind of sign, like a low purr or a gentle nudge of his head against yours.

However, your eyes find nothing within them; no answers, much less any clear emotion. Before your lips could call out his name, Murder brought your faces closer, pulling you in.

A long, glossy red tongue emerges from beneath the hood and slowly moves over your lips and cheeks, leaving a trail of saliva on your face. You don’t react right away, still trying to process what just happened — your eyelids blink a few times, but your movements remain frozen.

That tongue retracts, disappearing into the darkness beneath the hood — along with his red eye lights.

"Are you going to shut up now?" His voice always manages to send shivers down your spine — deep, rumbling, yet still tinged with a sense of danger.

As he waits for a response, Murder gives your neck another light squeeze.

"Y-yes!" From the dark chuckle you hear, your cheeks are probably flushed bright red.

When his hand finally loosens its grip, you feel the tips of his covered phalanges lightly scratch your skin before they retreat back into Murder’s hoodie pocket.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he settles back into his spot on the couch, adjusting the bucket of popcorn he nearly spilled earlier. You do the same, turning your gaze back to the movie, which now seemed to be nearing its end.

I definitely need to have more of these encounters with Murder, you think, using your tongue to wipe away some of his saliva from your lips.

[sorencd]

FROM ME TO YOU

pairing: steven meeks x reader

summary: you've been receiving a ton of letters lately. no address or anything, just a letter. who's it from?

word count: 2k

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED IT RAHHHHH I FINISHED IT THANK U TO WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS ANON I FORGOT BUT ANYWAYS I FINISHED IT RAHSHSHAHHHHH

masterlist

"you know, this isn't really fair. i was expecting people to not really like these types of crackers because come on! they're childish! practically child-shaped and screams 'child' all around!" you huff before sitting down on your desk with your arms crossed, not noticing the piece of paper in front of you.

"then why do you buy them then?"

"because it's good!"

"then maybe that's why they buy it."

you just came back from your quick stroll outside to unwind from the stressful lesson you and your brain were put through and to hopefully, score yourself some delicious goldfish crackers, but to your dismay, they were all out of your favorite snack.

"the shopkeepers by now should now that i absolute- what's this?"

"woah, there's another one!"

there on your desk sat an envelope that interrupted you from you rambling. there was no address, no sign, no nothing. the front and back were pristine as ever and it had only your name neatly written on the bottom corner. lately, you've been receiving a handful of letters of the same nature─ just your name and a romantic letter inside. you carefully opened the seal to retrieve its contents, expecting the usual lovesick and hopelessly devoted warble you've grown accustomed to. you have even begun to expect a note somewhere on you or your belongings early in the day, whether it be on your desk─ like the one in your hands right now, your bag, slid in between one of your books, or it would be shuffled in along with your notes. 

"is it from the same person?" you continued carefully unsealing the paper while your friend watched you with eager eyes, excited to see what's in store this time.

you've got to hand it to whoever's doing this, though. they're very dedicated; continuously sending you love letters every day like it's their job. you'd receive one after another and another and another. this person made sure to never miss a date. you pulled out the love letter and along came it was a small flower stuck to the corner. a flutter from your heart travelled down to your toes and set your whole body in a feeling of excitement as you recognized what the flower symbolized; it made you forget all about not being able to eat the delectable treat you were so set on getting your hands on. you also had to resist the urge to grin like an idiot, keeping on the nonchalant facade and instead looked around the room for anyone who could possibly send this to you. but it was only you and your friend.

"so this is what you do in your spare time?"

steven jumped from his position behind the door and quickly pulled back into the corridor, frightened when charlie suddenly appeared out of thin air. he shook his head and pinched the space between his eyes with his fingers. if only he could muster up enough courage to hand the letters in person, but he knew better than anyone he'd only freeze on the spot and make a fool of himself, and the last person he wanted to weird out was you. 

"i was only making sure (y/n) got my letter, i put a lot of effort into that."

"i think (y/n) would appreciate it more if you reveal yourself."

charlie received a scrunched and dumbfounded glare to his proposal. he was absolutely appalled that charlie could even suggest such a vile thing.

"come on! grow yourself a pair, eh?"

steven could only shake his head again to show his distaste to his friends suggestions. in the midst of his and charlie's bickering, steven failed to hear the soft clicking of shoes on the floor that was slowly approaching the doorway they resided in. he also failed to see the sly grin on charlie's face and his gaze that went beyond his eyeglasses' frame, it was your turn to give him a heart attack.

before you were about to head for the washroom, a familiar body was standing to your left along with someone else. it was that boy who you shared a class or two with, steven. recently, you've begun to notice that to you, he stands out more amongst the crowd. in a sea of people, you could easily discern him amidst the haze. this feeling gradually came onto you the more you saw him, and a silent hope behind the back of your mind wished that the anonymous letters were from him. after all─ the few times you came across his handwriting, at least often enough for you to recognize it, you could clearly see a resemblance between the two. but you just concluded it's your mind corroborating something for you to keep yourself from succumbing into insanity.

"(y/n)! what a surprise!"

"hi steven! hi… charlie?"

"right on the money!" 

the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, akin to something straight out of heaven was all his mind was set on. your laughter that steven loved so much filled the air and rang through his ears like a god-sent melody. in short it was angelic, and the things he’s willing to do just to hear it again would’ve made him a wanted man. 

"alright. if you both will excuse me, i have somewhere to go to. it was nice meeting you two!"

and there you go. quickly scurrying off into the crowd-filled hallways and blending in, disappearing from steven's line of sight just as quick as you've arrived.

"if i were you i'd be quicker about asking (y/n) out. drop the 'mysterious kid' act and get yourself a lover!" he received a shove from charlie accompanied by a cheshire-cat smile.

charlie was very adamant on helping him, steven concluded. and if he wanted to be free of the constant daydreaming about you, and get charlie to stop pestering him, he figured maybe it is time to reveal himself to you. 

with a rub to his sinus, steven begrudgingly agreed to remove the anonymity of his letters and finally give your secret-admirer a proper name.

you were organizing each of the letters in your small box that hid in the depths of your bag in the washroom to avoid anyone from seeing what you're doing. it wasn't like you compiling the letters was wrong, you just wanted privacy from prying eyes and a little breathing room for yourself. 

and all the while steven anxiously waited outside, a large lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow no matter how much he tried. his fingers constantly fiddling as a result of his heart rapidly beating out of the cage of his chest, and every sound made him flinch. his nerves were buzzing like wildfire. was he really going to do this? reveal himself to you? what would you think? he shouldn't have listened to charlie. but on the other hand, he's got nothing to lose. aside from his dignity and maybe having to bear the pain of you trying to avoid him to relieve the awkwardness that could ensue, though that wasn't really much of an issue. at least steven thinks it's not. at the end of the day, he could always just walk away; you haven't seen him anyways.

a small, shocked gasp came from his left pulled him out of his train of thoughts and overanalyzing of the situation at hand, it was you. he mirrored your surprised movements and let out a shout of his own, he took a few steps back to recuperate. great, now it was too late and there's no way to get out of this now.

"steven! i didn't expect to see you again." he watched your eyes crinkle along your toothy smile, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. he was absolutely smitten just from hearing your voice. 

"is everything alright?"

"y-yeah uhm, i was just about to-" he darted his eyes around before settling them back on you, "can we go somewhere else? i-i'd like to tell you something."

you nodded, albeit not without hesitance due to his sudden invitation. the pair of you walked together. him leading you to where you presume is the spot by the lake, given you were walking towards the door where behind it would reveal the fields outside of hellton.

the walk on the way was nothing short of quiet and tense, is how you'd like to put it. you were tempted to initiate small talk, given that your surroundings were eerily quiet, and the silence was starting to ring in your ears, but you feared the conversation would just be short lived. so you opted to keep your mouth shut the entire short trip.

and now, after hearing nothing except for your shoes clashing with the floor, it was replaced with the chirp of birds and soft walking atop the grass. you heard steven halt in his tracks while you were busy admiring the view, and when you switched your focus to look back at him, you were now standing by a lake. the scenery feels like it was pulled straight out of a story book from winnie the pooh, you commented to yourself as you lifted your head to face steven. the crisp gush of the wind gently glazing your cheeks. but the boy in front of you shielded most of it. 

"so- what i was meaning to say was…." he paused, breaking eye contact to look down at his shoes before taking a deep breath. he wasn't sure if what he was doing was the right thing, or was it the right time to do so, but he already caught himself in whatever all of this is. and he's not turning back.

"it was me."

"it was.. you? the one who took the last bag of goldfish crackers?"

"what? no uhm.. i'm the one who's been.. you know.. sending those letters.." 

"oh." blood rushed to your cold cheeks and cascaded a warm red-hued tint, your eyes slightly widened and your lips were parted. this was surprising, you weren't really expecting it to be him. you thought he had no interest in anything involving romance because to you, he was very focused on studying. maybe there's more to him than you thought. you inhaled, trying to recollect yourself as quickly as possible. but how could you when someone just confessed to being your secret admirer?

"i was wondering too if you'd maybe like to, i don’t know.. go out on a date..? with me? sometime? we could go to that library you like that's nearby, i mean it's the only library nearby." there, he said it. he shot his shot, he can't take it back now.

"i think i'd like that."

steven felt his heart stop, he was blessed with seeing your smile that was as bright as the sun face to face, and it was directed to him! he must be dreaming! with his mouth agape and his cheeks impossibly redder than yours, he tried saying anything, anything at all that would tell you how pretty he thought you were, but nothing came out. the sudden irritating ringing of the bell saved him from the embarrassment he could've put himself into, it was time to return to classes again. 

"i'll see you later?"

"yeah, bye-bye steven. i'll see you later!" you shouted after him. steven had to fix his footing to prevent himself from tripping while he walked away. he turned back to wave at you again, who was walking towards the opposite direction. the boy with new profound energy rushed towards his next class as fast as his legs would allow him.

"someone's happy." gerard pointed out when steven took a seat beside him, a lopsided giddy grin on his lips and a slight bounce to each step he took. he felt like he was over the moon.

"see, i told you. you had nothing to worry about." a voice from behind, which belonged to charlie, who was wearing a smug expression, chimed in.

steven couldn't really hear what they were saying, though. he’s too busy daydreaming about how fun the library date would be, his own thoughts blocking out the others' voices. and he’s already conjuring up the next letter he's about to make for you out of pure excitement, maybe he'll include a poem or two into it, too.

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

sunlight, sunshine (all for you my daisy)

Character A’s tattoo parlor and Character B’s flower shop have lived side-by-side for years, and the owners have a pretty good relationship going on. Character B is always bringing leftover, slightly droopy flowers to Character A, and Character A has been offering a free tattoo for ages. Character B finally decides to take them up on the offer after closing.

TW: cursing, one usage of 'my girl'

word count: 2,500

music blares from the shop next door.

you’ve learned to at least tolerate it, has gone from full screaming to just songs about how much the singer hates their town, and frankly-you have to take the wins where you get them.

you walk to the door, shutting it gently and ignoring the bell that rings overhead, as you flip the sign to closed on the door, flick the lights off

this is your favorite time of the day, closing. when the music turns off and you can walk around, one last trip around the store to water the flowers, make sure everything is at least semi neat.

Thursdays are your favorite day.

not because you close early (although that does help) but picking up the flowers used for decor for the week; the small tulip in water by the cash register, the small bouquet of sunflowers and roses when you walk in, the daises in the break room-collecting them all, wilted petal edges and all, crisp and browning, folding into themselves-wrapping s small string around them and bringing them next door.

originally, it started as a peace offering

the music blaring from next door gave you a headache, made you reevaluate your life, especially when customers made the dull ache behind your eye throb-

you went over, ready to all but plead for the owners to at the very least turn the music down, when you instead met him

he was tall, all elbows and sharp edges-the freckles that danced around his face were a surprise-, hovering in a corner as he chewed on his fingernails, a baseball pulled over his head low, and turned the wrong way, his hair in his eyes-

you couldn’t see him, but you saw his arms. even crossed over one another and leaning in close to see a co workers work, you could see the tattoos that littered his arms.

the sleeve was all black, all simple line work, starting with a large map, colors thrown in, the compass by his elbow, you think you can make out a lighthouse and an ocean wave if you squint-

“Hey.”

no one looks up.

you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in your life, the shop is blaring this music and isn’t that well lit, and the walls are covered with various band album photos blown up, awards line the walls.

you step closer, to the man with the sleeve of maps, and pull on his shirt sleeve: “i said hey”

you beg your voice to not come out as a whine, but fail, as he whips around.

immediately a smile is on his lips, the freckles that line his cheek make him look almost welcoming instead of terrifying- uses his hand to move hair out of his way: “Well, hello.”

there’s humor behind his voice, a gentle teasing like there’s some inside joke here that you’re missing. his voice is surprisingly deep and low, all gravel-barely above a mumble not a voice you’d think would belong to him

“Listen, you’re scaring the old ladies away-“

“what?”

his eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion but you swear you can see a smirk pull on the edges of his lips as he leans in closer, a shoulder down as he tries to make himself not tower over you.

“i said,” you hold in the sigh, wanting to get out of here, “you’re-“

“here,” he says gently, “follow me.”

and you can barely hear him over the music thumping as he leads, his hand stays on your shoulder as he gently guides you to the back of the shop, behind a few doors, to a more lit up room, where the music is at least a little gentler, not as abrasive. a couch is pushed into the corner, a small refrigerator hums in the other corner, a fold out plastic table in the center.

it hits you this is probably their make shift break room.

“okay,” he smiles, his arm up high on the doorframe, “you were saying?”

he’s cocky.

the smile doesn’t leave the corner of his lips as he talks, looks at your lips the entire time, waiting-daring-for you to say something

“i said-“ you pray your voice doesn’t shake, finds level ground, “can you turn your music down? you’re scaring away all the old people and that’s 90% of our clientele”

he smirks, “Yeah? and why would i do that, sunshine?”

your eyes slant at the nickname you were given, know he isn't going to let this one go. (Later, you'll ask about this. He'll do a vague hand motion, his eyes narrowed like he can't believe you didn't pick up on this- "yknow," he says, his voice drips with sarcasm, "Flowers-sunshine? the thing the flowers need-" and you'll doubt the story, until it's reveled even later, months and months down the line, the truth)

“Because the old people!” you huff out, “listen, i have a peace offering.”

he snorts, “i gotta see this. go on.”

You roll your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the pink creep onto your face. there’s a single tulip, tucked into your back pocket. usually, it’s reserved for crying children that come into a shop, you insist no one can be upset when they have a tulip-

and you grab it and hand it to him, “here, our nicest tulip if you turn the music down.”

he laughs, the kind where he throws his head back and squints his eyes, but when his head snaps up, his fingers reach for the stem delicately-

“this is your best tulip?” he laughs, “the edges of the petals are brown.”

okay, so it’s a lie, a flower you knee by the register, exchange them out every few days, but you didn’t have time to make him a fucking bouquet

“yknow,” you huff, “most people would just say thank you.”

you go to move hair out of your eyes and your well aware of how red and burning your face is

he’s laughing, but a part of him seems to melt away, this hard exterior he puts out, “Thank you.” and it sounds sincere, “but no promises with the music.”

“no promises,” you shake your head, “just less screaming. i can’t have another boomer yell at me.”

his expression hardens, “they yell at you?” he seems shocked, like he doesn’t work with the general public.

“I mean,” suddenly you’re tripping over your words that come back small and hushed, “Sometimes?”

It’s a question, not an answer, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe it.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he smiles, his eyes on the flower in his hand as he rubs the stem between his fingers, “You keep the flowers coming, and I’ll see what I can do about the music.”

Your eyes narrow. 

“Here's the deal: flowers once a week, and you stop playing music that could give 90 year olds heart attacks”

He laughs, pauses for a second, his voice comes back gentle, almost shy: “Once a week, yeah?”

Obviously referencing the flower delivery by you.

You roll your eyes, “Sure, fine.”

He smiles, “My name's Hasan,” he tucks the flower behind his ear, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

And so it begins.

Every Thursday you close the shop up, collect the wilting flowers from various corners of the shop and walk next door.

Hasan is usually behind the desk, a pad of paper in front of him and a smudged pencil on his fist, always making a move to quickly slide the pad of paper out of view when you appear. It starts getting more elaborate. The first few times, he used a half empty water bottle to put the wilting flower in, a small wax dixie cup until he eventually upgraded to a small plastic cup with the shops logo on it with lots of water

And he always has last weeks flower tucked behind his ear, as if he’s been waiting for your arrival, has been watching the clock for the time to happen, for the smirk to gather on his face and to take the flower out from the pages between his sketchbook, when they get too old and brown, and tuck it behind his ear

It becomes a joke, when you drop the flower off, for him to offer you a free tattoo in exchange for the wilting flower.

Or at least, you always took it as one

But as you show up tonight, hasan behind his usual spot, the store empty beside him and the music a lot quieter than usual, he smiles when you walk in the doorframe.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat as he throws his pencil down, his hands behind his head, “Look who’s here.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You ask as you approach the desk, “It’s almost like we do this every fucking Thursday.”

He laughs as he takes the flower from you, this time an actual bouquet, smaller than usual, of assorted flowers, a mess of roses and tulips, a dash of daisy and a mix of peonies.

Even though they’re wilted around the edges, and the age is showing, he takes the small bouquet and presses his nose into it gently, closing his eyes, a small smile on his face. 

“Say your line.”

His eyes snap open, “Come again, sunshine?”

“Say your line,” you sigh, “You say it every Thursday?”

He hums, his eyes travel to the ceiling, “Hmm, let’s see?” 

You huff, cross your arms over your chest and tap your foot on the ground, acting like you’re irritated.

“Thank you?” He finally says. The smirk says he’s enjoying this.

“Hasan-”

“Oh!” he shakes his head, “I got it: this flower is brown.”

“You’re literally insufferable,” You huff, “How you have any friends is beyond me.”

He laughs, “Alright, damn. Let’s see. Tattoo for your time?”

“That's the line,” You rock back and forth on your heels, “And yes. I’m ready.”

He all but perks up, “Oh? I thought you were terrified of needles.”

And you hesitate, don’t want to say that everything seems less scary with him by your side, because you two aren’t that close yet for you to be saying that, or that you trust him, because that’s a big word all by itself-

“Thought I could piss my family off in time for the holidays.”

He laughs, “There’s my girl,” and then, his voice a little lower, “You sure?”

You nod, fumbling for your phone as you grab it, unlock it as you show him a picture of what you have in mind, ignoring how your hands shake, “This.”

He leans in close, hums as he touches the screen and moves it along, really taking a good look at it: “Give me ten minutes.” he settles on, wheels his chair back and grabs his drawing pad and disappears with it.

As promised, wilbur appears back no more then ten minutes later, a water bottle in his hand as he throws it to you, flops into the chair and wheels to your side, his voice low: “So, I was thinking this-”

And your finger traces the outline he made, a simple sketch, simple line art, but you can see where he erased, tried again, erased and finally got it right

“Perfect, Hasan.”

He smiles, “Go sit in the chair. I’ll be a second.”

Hasan's side of the shop is small, his booth a lot smaller than the seasoned artists that work there, pushed in the corner, the only thing that makes it his and sticks out are the glow in the dark stars that line the brick walls, the fairy lights hanging from the small mirror pushed in the corner, the small framed pictures that line the wall of various insects

“Get comfortable.” He throws his chin at the small chair he has, and you obey, flopping down, playing with your hands out of nerves.

“You’re okay,” He says gently as he wheels over, heard him going through his cabinet as he appears in front of you in large glasses, crooked, pressed onto the crook of his nose, “I got you, you’re good.”

And there’s weight behind it, wonder if he knows that, as you lay in the chair, fixing your arm on the arm rest where he’ll be working.

“I’ll take it slow,” he says gently as he gathers supplies and instruments, “And i’ll be gentle, I promise. And if you need a second at any point just tell me and-”

It’s weird, seeing him this genuine. Usually, it’s passing insults to one another, the only way you know how to make friends, little comments to one another so it doesn’t feel like you’re both doing anything-

“I’m ready.” You say gently, nodding, “Let’s go.”

he heistates for half a second, his voice gentle: "You ate today, yeah? Drank something? I have snacks-"

He wheels back in his chair, to a little cabinet where his hand hovers over it, offering the snacks.

"I did," You say back, just as gentle as he did, "I'm ready."

Hasan goes slow, as promised. The buzzing of the needle is the only sound you hear, well aware now that Hasan has turned off the shitty pop punk music and has instead traded it for some acoustic album that plays gently through the speakers, only interrupted by his voice occasionally, low and soft, “You’re doing good, almost done.”

And when you look up, you realize the music you heard, that calmed you down so much, was also accompanied by hasan's own humming, gently, as if it’s just to himself, as he does the line work.

He sees you staring.

“You good, sunshine? Need a break?”

“I’m okay.” You say gently.

He nods, “One more minute, I promise. You’re doing good.”

And you nod, feeling comfortable with him, the little atmosphere he made.

A minute later, the buzzing stops and you feel the scrape of a rag over your skin, “All done, sunshine. You did amazing, go take a look.”

You get up slowly, and while the mirror isn’t necessary considering it’s on your wrist, hasan insists its part of the experience, as you turn your hand around in the mirror, the fairy lights hitting it just right, the little outline of a tulip under your pinky.

hasan appears behind you in the mirror, pushes his glasses up over his face into his hair, “What’d you think? And be brutally honest, I can take it.”

“It’s perfect.” you insist, and he laughs

“Well, you’re easy to please-”

“I owe you, let me pay.” 

And you’re up, pulling at your purse on the floor, ready to give him the few bucks to your name, when his hand is over yours, looking up and he’s looking into your eyes, “It’s part of the agreement, remember?” And then, gentlier, “I’m not taking your money.”

You shake your head, “The deal was flowers for-”

And he cuts you off, throws his chin at your wrist, “Exactly. Flowers for the different music. I’m just holding up my end of the bargain.”

You nibble your lip.

“Let me buy you a drink, at least.”

He laughs, as he wipes down the bed, “Sunshine-”

“One drink,” you say, your voice almost begging, “Please.”

He stops for a second, like he’s thinking, before nodding, “Let me clean up, i’ll be a minute. You can sit at my desk.”

You obey, sitting at the desk, ignoring his drawing pad and how it’s looking back at you, pleading for you to take a look, when he appears, his jacket over his shoulder, “Ready, sunshine?”

You stand, nodding immediately, as you go from behind the desk to his side, his hand in the air, fingers outstretched as if asking for you to hold it, to tangle your fingers into his-and without second thought you do, and follow him out.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Catch me and I'll follow — Soapghost wingfic

@rainerestored I can't think of any ways to pin this on you, but I'm still blaming you for it anyways 🥰

To say that cross-species relationships were shunned would not quite be correct. Was it a rarity to find? Yes.

But that's mostly due to differing courtship rituals. For example a pair of kestrels courtship behavior will obviously be different from some type of waterfowl courtship.

Obviously with dedication and a bit of hard work these differences can be bridged.

The beginning of Soap and Ghost's relationship was rocky to say the least. A hawk and an eagle? Not the largest species gap that's been heard of, but they've got their differences.

Ghost had to give credit where credit was due, and say soap's learning curve was steeper than his own. After all a straight freefall until just before sudden death just might be a bit harder than a game of follow the leader. Putting everything that wasn't physical aside, it was all about learning timing and coordination, and trusting your partner. There's also the added bonus of improving and learning new flight skills/ability

Old advice from generations back would have said to just scrap both courting rituals or to choose one (the easiest). But both soap and ghost have agreed that that only breed a hostile relationship that's destined to fail.

Meaningful courtship is important for maintaining a healthy relationship, especially if they aren't mono-spec. See, on ghost's end it was a show of trust and competence among other things. On soap's end it was it was a sign of willingness, and it builds a kind of understanding between partners. And for all multi-spec relationships it also shows a general dedication, and want for the relationship.

The put in the work and the hours. Did as much research as they could. Communicated their wants and needs, and what they could or could not do.

They started small. Soap took the initiative to start introducing himself to Ghost's traditions. The first time they did it was a 15 foot drop over water side by side, just to prove that they both could, and to see their limits. The next drop was higher, several wingspans higher, side by side.

The traditional method (the most dangerous) of the death spiral was for both partners to to fly way up high, all the way to their altitude limit, then they'd intertwine their legs, and free fall. Obviously physics caused the spinning due to differing weight. It was a massive show of strength, self-control, natural instinct, and trust, to accomplish a successful death spiral.

Now, in modern times, there is technology that makes such courtships much less dangerous. That's not to say the traditional method is no longer used. But interlocking flight boots did make cross-species courtship easier for some parties. The learning curve was still steep, but it was one step made just a bit easier.

After the were both comfortable with the companioned free fall they donned the interlocking boots and began to test out short spurts of joined free fall from high altitudes. At first they released after only a few short secinds of spinning, but slowly the time before they released grew longer and longer and the distance from the ground grew shorter.

Eventually after years of working at it, and practice, and repetition, it became almosts second nature to soap. To follow a only wingflap behind ghost as they rose higher and higher into the sky, then to lock themselves together, and let the wind scream past their ears as they spiraled towards the ground, so that they could release only a few wingspans away from sudden death.

Soap isn't the only one learning though, sure his job was harder, but that doesn't negate Ghost's efforts. He's never learned had to follow so close behind anyone before. He's never had to learn to swoop and dive in tandem with someone else, like he has to with soap. He's never had to follow and lead in this push-pull type of courting.

At first he felt clumsy, too large, not agile enough. It seemed like he bumped, and knocked into everything as he struggled to keep up with soap. He tangled and fought with brambles and branches. And when the broke free into open air he overshot, and soap struggled to keep close behind.

The first time they tried to fly together ghost shot into the air, and soap was panting by the time he'd caught up. Then soap dived down into the thicket of trees. Ghost had tried to follow right behind him, but he'd never had to fly in such close quarters before. He'd nearly flown face first into a bundle of branches, had to duck low to avoid it and had promptly gotten stuck in an overgrown thorn bush, and soap was dusting him in the wind.

It took lots of trial an error to learn how to tuck his wings close to get through the gaps soap practically soared through. It had taken him ages to figure out how to perfectly fit soap into his slipstream to give him more lift. It had taken weeks of watching and following soap to learn how to circle and swoop and to lead as flawlessly as soap

Now, after years and years of learning, and flying, and learning some more, their courtship rituals looked like a perfectly laid out dance.

The way their flight paths twined together as they rose straight up into the air, as high as the could go. The way the locked "talons" and plummet towards the ground in terrifying spirals until they were mere meters from death. Where upon they'll catch themselves with open wings, a feather's width away from eachother. The way they perfectly mirror each other as they snake through trees, and vines, and along cliff faces.

Their monthly courting flights have become somewhat of an, unintentional, spectacle. A private, ordered to 'find' their drill Sergent's pine cone, had stumbled across them on one of their flights. News spread fast over the next few months. Not so silent whispers through the halls of base, that kicked up whenever they walked by.

"Have you seen the lieutenant fly with the Sergent?"

"Never seen a hawk do a death spiral before, you should see it next time"

"I didn't know an eagle could fly like that"

"The stunts they pull are crazy"

It's not that they minded the whispers per-say, no, they knew how to deal with distraction and what not. It's just that when a crowd had shown uo to their next courting flight...

Ghost had never courted anyone before soap. Soap had courted before just... just not compatibly. So to suddenly go from whaterver they had before, to a live action show infront of an audience, was a little uncomfortable at first.

Now they usually put in for some time off to do their flight together. Usually somewhere an hour or two flight off base. That's not to say that they do put on the occasional show for everyone on base. Just that they prefer it to be a more private matter.

I kinda want to write more on this but I also want to experiment with other species and situations

[saitamawife]

Boyfriend! Bakugou

Overbearing Bakugou finally gives in and lets his sweetheart drive his precious car. He never let anyone even touch the steering wheel but asked to let him teach you that he will try to do.

Warning! Discrimination against Chevy HHRs, the writer knows nothing about cars might be some errors, uses of the word love, use of the word baby, cursing, no beta reader, and mentions of NSFW but like two lines one explicit the other alludes.

Gender neutral! Reader. I was watching The Boys and this song omg.

_________________________

Boyfriend! Bakugou doesn't let anyone touch his car. That's his baby. He washes her once a week and details her seats all by himself for 4 hours every 2 weeks. Boyfriend! Bakugou who almost blew Denki's head off the first time he spilled chips in his car and swore up and down that nobody would ever drive his baby or eat in his car.

Boyfriend! Bakugou paid all that fucking money to have his 7.0L 4-speed V8 engine that generates 375 horsepower, Orange Boss Mustang with the black racer stripes delivered to him here in Japan. He happened to come across one while he was in America and had to have it. The way his stomach fluttered when he heard her purr for the first time. The smile that slid on his face when he drove her. After the shit he went through in America, he fully deserved it. I mean that car saved his life.

Boyfriend! Bakugou who now has his seatbelt on eyes staring into you with nothing but genuine fear as you put his car in reverse, smiling and promising him that nothing will happen. It took a lot to get to this moment. A lot of kissing and begging and doing that weird thing he likes, where he ties you up and brings out the Dynamite toy to play with. It took a lot of…energy.

Nobody gets to drive his car but here you are easing it through a parking lot. You weren't even on the road but you could smell him sweating. "It's okay" you coo at him, turning on your indicator before making a right turn. You look over at the blond and watch the excessive rise and fall of his chest. "Eyes on the road" he wheezed out.

Suddenly a blue car was on the left of you about to turn into the right lane beside you. "STOP!" Bakugou shouted, causing you to stomp on the brakes and making the car come to a screeching halt. You could practically hear his heart as he grabbed his chest and beads of sweat slid down his skin.

"Baby, you can't just do that" You watched the car make its turn and slowly fade out of vision. "You weren't slowing down, I had to" "Katsuki, there's a stop sign right there, and I'm only going 6 miles an hour" "Yeah way too fast, I only told you 5, you almost crashed"

You looked over at Blond and decided to park the car.

"You said you'd let me drive" You crossed your arms and glared over at him,

"I know what I said", "What you failed to mention is you'd micromanage me and act like a maniac".

"I'm not-" "Katsuki your screaming could've caused a crash", "You weren't slowing down" he pouted looking at you, mimicking you, and folding his arms.

You knew exactly what was going to happen but you didn't know he'd be so upset.

Finally throwing your hands in the air, you exclaimed "How about later then?" "No driving in the night" "Then first thing tomorrow and you have to let me drive, promise?" "Okay" "No, promise me Katsuki"

"Fine, fine I promise" he rolled his eyes, cracked the door, and walked over to his seat, when you passed him, you watched him morph back into his rational confident self. He closed the door and clicked his seatbelt, eyeing you till you did the same. His usual smirk made its way back to his face as his car purred.

"Why do you even want to learn how to drive, you know I can take you anywhere" he skillfully backed up his car with hand squeezing your headrest.

"Not when you're at work"

"Then I can send someone to drive you, you know I can pay for that"

"You promised and I want to learn"

"Why, you want to drive away from me so badly?" his eyes focused on the road.

"Katsuki, if I wanted that I let some guy with a Chevy HHR teach me to drive" The car practically rumbled with his hearty laughter,

"But seriously-"

"Katsuki, I want to learn this for myself, I want that freedom to go wherever I want" It felt like begging but you could tell you won him over by the twitch of his nose. It took just a little nudging to get him moving where you wanted.

He took a sharp inhale, "Fine, but you have to promise when I'm done teaching ya, you don't use your new skills to do any evil, cause then I'd have to arrest ya and give you all types of bad punishment"

"I promise I'll be good" he smiled and reached his big hand over to rest on your thigh, rubbing tiny circles with his thumb, you leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Tomorrow, promise?"

"I promise, love"

Boyfriend! Bakugou who never lets anyone so much as dream of driving his car finds himself moving over albeit slowly to let his lover sit comfortably in the driver seat.

[tiredlilguy]

I was intrigued when I saw that ur reqs r open.... and u take nijisanji EN request ?? count me in xsoleil x ghost!reader.... that haunts the building, and the reason is.... "why not". can be teasing and joking but thats up to u :3, prefered HC or scenario........ ty ty

OH MY GOD A.DLSKFJA;LSDKFJ;ASLDKFJ;ALDSKFJ TYSM FOR REQUESTING NIJIEN >:D IM SO HAPPIIIIII. i did small hc's and scenario's... so i hope you enjoy

pairing(s): Xsoleil (separately) X GN!Ghost!Reader platonic/romantic up to interpretation cw: N/A, not proofread desc: they all decide to go to an abandoned building to see if they find any ghosts. they do, but it just so happens to be you. you haunt them, but they have their own ways of reacting to it

Doppio:

pio-chan gives me the energy that he would try to play cards with you

Like magic tricks… idk, I can just see it

At first he kinda scream in your face but when he realizes what you’re true intentions are he tries to be chill

He would probably be trying to exorcise you in his head though

He thinks magic tricks are going to exorcise you… it’s ok, let him cook

Maybe it does in the end, and then halfway through finds himself kind of sad that he can’t show you his magic tricks anymore

Crossing his arms, Doppio felt himself grin as he switched the cards out from behind his back. You watched curiously, not seeing him switch the cards. Soon enough, he pulls out your card:

An ace.

“ Is this your card?!,” he says excitedly. You nod and clap your hands as he prides himself on his winnings (even though he cheated). You start to fade away before his very eyes. Doppio now stares at where you were kneeling across from him. He frowns as he feels a little empty inside, now that you’re gone, but at least the exorcism worked.

Hex:

tries to flirt with you

Thinks his rizz with exorcise you, but in reality it just makes you feel flustered, so you disappear so that he doesn’t have to see you embarrassed

I can see him not getting scared upon seeing you, and noticing that you were just haunting the school because you wanted to

Flirts you to death

“ Are you a ghost? Because you’re drop dead gorgeous,” he finger guns at you with a wink. You were flushed at his comment, replying by looking down nervously. You notice him eyeing you up and down,” Damn babe, you’ve got a killer body… and I’m here with a death wish.”

Soon enough you’re way too flustered to be staying there. As you felt heat reach to you face, like it never does, you fade away. However, not because he exorcised you, but because he made you feel embarrassed. Hex watched as you faded away and frowned,” Still had more pick-up lines, but ok.”

Kotoka:

she wants to get to know you

You’re so cool!

I can see her complimenting you

She would also embarrass you somehow into fading away, no she did not exercise you

She just probably showers you with compliments so much that you fade away

“ Woah! There’s a real ghost!,” she jumps up, running over to you. You back away, despite knowing that she actually can’t touch you. “ Here, let’s take a photo!,” Kotoka smiles, pulling out her phone and posing with you. You hold up two piece signs. The picture gets taken and she shows it to you, you nodded in approval.

“ You’re so cool! I really like your outfit,” she smiles,” Is that what you died in?” You nod in response. Before she can compliment you again, however, you wave at her as you fade away to run off somewhere else.

Meloco:

she’s the one who’s actually trying to exercise you

Though upon meeting first, she tries to throw a chair at you

Which fails because it goes right through you

After that, she starts screaming and begins exorcising you

She’s unsuccessful though because she keeps stuttering

“ Y-you who h-h-haunt this p-place in the name of the L-Lord!!!,” she says as she holds up a cross at you. You look at her curiously as she continues to chant. “ B-b-begone at once!,” Meloco waves the cross in the air exasperated. You raised a brow, looking at her confused.

“ Ah damnit!,” she gives up, throwing the cross at you. Well… through you.

Ver:

is genuinely curious to know where you came from

He’s pretty level-headed though

I can see him somehow making you cry by asking you about your past

So you fade away :(

But you knew he was just trying to be nice, so you left him a little note

“ So where did you come from, oh gosh?,” Ver looks at you curiously. Since you can’t speak, you shrug your shoulders. “ Did you die happy?” You nod. “ Do you miss the people you used to live with?” You nod. However, tears start to well up in your eyes. Before he can ask another question, you fade away.

However, where you stood, there’s a little note:

“ Thank you for being nice.”

[skylarsblue]

Hello! I'm not sure if you're requests are open or not, so I'm sorry if they aren't.

Could you write something for Brahms where Malcom (I think that's his name) is sick and he can't make the grocery deliverys, so Brahms nanny (the reader) has to go grocery shopping. Would Brahms go with them? Or would he stay home and worry? Thanks sm, I hope you have a great day/night ❤️

TW; Separation anxiety, panic attacks, some unhealthy possessiveness, slight angst to fluff, comfort fluff

✦Note; Gender Neutral Reader(no pronouns or physical attributes mentioned)

"Brahms, hun, can I ask a big favor of you?"

It had been nearly a year since you took the job of nannying a doll, and it was approaching the four-month mark on knowing that the real Brahms Heelshire had been forced to live in the walls of his home. It was certainly a frightening revelation, seeing a six-foot-something man crawling out from behind a painting, dressed in dusty clothes that were a bit too small and a weather porcelain mask. At the time? It felt like a ghost would've been far less concerning. But, for some reason, after running around the mansion and eventually hiding from the disgraced son of the rich family, you'd found yourself considering everything you knew. The information was that Brahms had been terribly burned in a fire on his birthday, possibly framed for the murder of a little girl that also could've easily been an accident. Shoved into the walls by his clearly unaffectionate parents, made to be a monster by them, to the point they'd rope a stranger into caring for him since they clearly didn't teach him to do it himself. And now he was screaming for you not to leave. Of course, there were also threats thrown in, but they honestly sounded more panicked than vengeful.

A potentially stupid decision, but you decided to stay, compassion winning over...survival instinct apparently.

Brahms was consistently intent on ensuring you didn't leave the house. He got rather scary sometimes because of it, but to you, it was just the signs of abandonment issues. So, even when he was being particularly difficult, you toughed it out. Finding the best balance of being strict and being gentle. He could be very sweet when he wanted to be, and you'd managed to keep him that way for a month straight. However, life doesn't like to be easy, and you were now met with an issue on this Wednesday afternoon. Brahms was sitting with a watercolour set at the kitchen table, cardigan sleeves rolled up to keep them clean. He stopped cleaning his brush and glanced up at you, pupils expanding over hazel-green, which happened every time he looked at you. Admittedly, it didn't help the occurring guilt already forming in your stomach. "Well, uh, you know how we basically have no food right now? And Malcom is supposed to bring up the groceries?" You said, voice soft & hesitant. You really were worried about upsetting him. Brahms nodded slowly. He never liked Malcom, found him quite annoying, especially now that Malcom had to interact with you. The man's flirty & playful demeanor never failed to rub him the wrong way. "Well, he's sick-" Brahms perked up. You snorted. "Not terminally, don't get excited, that's mean." You scolded softly, smiling a little. The uneasiness settled over you again. "Well, someone needs to get groceries, and it's not like I can just make them appear out of thin air. So...Would you be okay with me going on a short trip to the store?" You frowned as Brahms immediately locked up. Tense and defensive. "Hang on hang on, it won't be for long, I promise. I know you don't like me leaving but I can't feed you air. Please, Brahms. You trust me to come back, don't you? Surely I've proven that to you at this point."

Brahms crossed his arms and sank in his seat, picking at a loose thread on his cardigan. His nerves were already frying at the idea of you leaving the house. Mind insisting you'd never come back, bolt out the door and leave him for dead, never allowing him to see you again. He took a deep breath as you rested a hand on his knee. Gently rubbing it with your thumb. His shoulders loosened up slightly as he made eye contact again. "I promise I won't be long. I'll just grab enough to tide us over until Malcom isn't sick anymore. Then it's his job and I won't have to leave again. I'll even get you something sweet. How does a homemade cake sound, huh?" Bargaining usually worked. Brahms chewed on his inner cheek under his mask, looking at the floor. He rocked back and forth uncomfortably. After two minutes of silence, finally, he let out a shaky sigh and clenched his hands together. "It has to be quick." He whispered, voice mimicking a small child. Honestly, it was impressive how well he did that. It'd be very useful in a voice acting job, which you once told him he'd be good at.

You covered his mask in reassuring kisses. He followed you around as you got ready, putting on better shoes. It'd been raining recently and you weren't about to get mud all over your lounge shoes. He anxiously messed with his hands as you grabbed your keys, standing in front of the open door. He obediently leaned down so you could kiss his fluffy jaw. "I promise you, I won't be long. I swear." Your words didn't do much to comfort him but he nodded anyway. Watching your car pull away felt like a death sentence.

You had left for only five minutes and Brahms already felt sick. The house was completely silent again, aside from the occasional creak caused by the wind. He'd tried to go back to his watercolour picture, but he sat there and simply stared at it. At the ten-minute mark, he was curled up around a pillow in his lap. You always insisted he change his clothes before getting into your bed, lest he gets dust and dirt from inside the walls on the bedding, but he didn't really think about that when he curled up. Shifting the fabric of your pillowcase between his fingers. He muttered a repetitive phrase under his breath, trying to ground himself like you had taught him to do after a nightmare. It wasn't really working.

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, and now he felt nauseous, restless, and it felt difficult to breathe. He rocked back and forth in a poor attempt to console himself. It was hard to think rationally, or rather, it was hard to think at all. His brain seemed to go fuzzy. Manually trying to breathe and keep himself from drifting off into a terrible train of thought. If you were coming back, if you'd be safe outside of the walls of his house. What if someone mugged you? Or kidnapped you? Kept you trapped in their basement and turned your skin into a jacket? Brahms was not having a good time, not at all.

And at thirty minutes he'd started crying, though he didn't sob loudly. Just hiccuped and struggled again to breathe clearly, the mask wasn't helping, but he refused to remove it. That would've made it worse, he was sure. His hands were shaky and they had begun slowly locking up into a weird, cramped position. His lips and extremities felt tingly, pins and needles metaphorically jabbing into his skin as if the panic wasn't punishment enough.

You came home thirty-nine minutes after you left approximately. As you promised, it was nothing more than some essentials and the ingredients for a cake. The majority of the time was eaten up by a long queue at the checkout and abysmal traffic. It hadn't occurred to you just how badly Brahams anxiety about you leaving had transferred to you. The entire time you wandered around the store there was an invisible timer in the back of your brain, alarm ringing to tell you he was waiting for you, probably afraid. You shut the door and jogged into the main area, looking around. "Brahms!" You called, hands cupped around your mouth to ensure he heard you, even if he was in the walls.

Your call was answered by a rather harsh thump above your head, located in your room. Honestly, part of you hoped he was just snooping around up there. It would've meant he was occupying himself instead of just freaking out. So, without caring about the mess, you shoved off your coat and dropped your keys where you stood and sped up the stairs, ushering to your room. "Brahms?! Hun, can you answer me please?!" You shouted as you approached the door. It was cracked open so you pushed it wider. A heart-shattering sight greeted you. Brahms had tried to get up upon hearing your voice but his body didn't cooperate, the lack of proper airflow made his legs essentially useless, so he just cried on the floor by the bed.

"Oh, baby..." Your voice was gentle and full of concern as you jogged over to him, crouching down. "Can I touch you, hun?" He nodded with a pathetic hiccup. Instantly, he felt you bring him in by the shoulders to lean against you. "Shh, it's okay, try and take a deep breath." You instructed patiently, taking one of his hands, gently massaging it out of the locked position it was in.

You rocked with him whilst giving gentle words of encouragement and comfort, holding his hand and using the other to pet his hair. It took about five minutes to bring him down. He was still crying and sniffling, but his breathing wasn't hindered, that was the important part. Brahms whimpered and fell against you more when you pecked his temple. "Shhh, it's alright, you're okay. I'm right here. I told you I'd come back, yeah?" He nodded. "And I did, didn't I? You don't have to worry anymore." The man forced another huff of air into his lungs and coughed a little. His throat hurt from hyperventilating and crying. So when he muttered your name, it was raspy and barely audible. "Oh, honey...poor thing. Do you think you can stand? We can go downstairs and I'll make you some tea, yeah? Maybe a snack?"

Brahms exhaled slowly before he nodded a bit. He felt heavy and tired now, but he wasn't about to be left alone. Though he was a bit wobbly, he stood with you, allowing you to support some of his weight. You were extra careful with him going down the stairs. The concern made him feel better, that fuzzy warmth, far more enjoyable than the gripping panic he was just in. You fluttered around him and did your best to reassure him anytime you had to step away, even if he could see you the entire time. He sat with his knees to his chest at the kitchen table, heavy blanket around his shoulders. He rasped out a 'thank you' once you placed some mini peanut butter & jelly sandwiches in front of him, as well as a steaming cup of tea. You partially sat on the armrest of the kitchen chair and lightly stroked his hair. "Hun, can I take off your mask? You need to eat and it's gotta feel real gross under there."

Brahms swallowed before he sighed, keeping his eyes on the floor as you slid the mask up. This wasn't the first time, in fact, it was the third time you had seen his face bare. It never seemed to get easier for him. There was a gentle clink when you set it down on the table. Brahms grabbed one of the sandwiches and nibbled on a corner, vaguely listening to you wet a paper towel in order to clean the inside of his mask. Opting for a softer cloth in order to wipe his face.

"You were very brave today, Brahms." Brahms glanced up tiredly at your praise, flinching slightly when you delicately went over the burn scars on his face. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you were. And I'm really proud of you." You smiled. Brahms blinked before he sighed, letting his eyes close when you nudged him to lean against you. His headache was lessening as you scratched his scalp lovingly whilst he slowly munched on the snacks in front of him. He didn't finish them all, but that didn't really matter to you, just that he ate something. "You know what I think sounds great?" You asked as he stood, waiting for your input, tiredly rubbing his eye, mask in his other hand. "Hm? Is it a nap?" He questioned. You chuckled and nodded.

"You know piano well enough by now, I think we can miss one lesson for a nap." Brahms didn't argue as you took his hand and led him upstairs. Usually, he threw a fit if anyone broke the schedule besides himself. But, he was exhausted, and his limbs felt like lead. So your tender coaxing to get him to lay down, allowing him to use you as a pillow, went over rather well. He exhaled against your shoulder and leaned into the petting you gave.

"Go ahead and rest, sweetheart. I promise you I'll be right here the whole time." You insisted, feeling his arms tighten around you. Brahms reluctantly let his eyes shut. "There ya go, hun. Don't you worry, I'll be here when you get up." "I'm not going anywhere."

[misthogansnk]

Christmas gift? 🎄🦎

(Syzoth x reader)

Warning: none

Vitally important information: I created this story for Violette from my Oc, but I named her this way (Vi) so they can give her whatever name they want, and be y/n.

The fanart on the cover was drawn by me

Enjoy this Christmas special 💚

"Syzoth, come with me, let's go out and see the snow, I'll teach you how to make a snowman."

My joy and desire to show her this world and its festive wonders was so great that I didn't pay attention to her reaction, it was so obvious, but of course, my neurons were singing Christmas carols and wouldn't let me reason.

“Eh, no thanks very much (Violette)”, oh his disgusted face made me want to hit him with the Christmas lights they were trying to unravel, what's wrong with him, he doesn't want to integrate? Maybe you don't like parties. Not even two minutes passed in which I pouted and crossed my arms like a capricious child, I know, I would hit myself too, I admit it. However, I mentioned this to Kenshi and he reminded me of something: SYZOTH HAD LOST HIS FAMILY! I am a beast!!! What a festive spirit the poor thing was going to have, by the ancient gods, I'm the worst! “Leave it like that, you're going to make it worse, you're a machine for ruining moments,” Johnny emphasized, that laugh! I swear I would make her swallow the irony of him, along with the teeth of him! Suddenly, he stood up and grabbed a bag, it was from one of those expensive stores, cool, “Do you still have money left after the divorce?”, and yes, I tried to let the sarcasm show but instead of making him angry, It was worse. “(Vi), how about you make snow angels outside and leave the adults here?” He continued on his way and without wanting to respond, I stayed in front of the stove, fighting with the Christmas lights.

"Hey, 'Reptile'"

"Reptile…."

"Reptile"

"Rep-"... "Johnny, stop it," Syzoth emphasizes, cutting him off, "what's going on?"

“He's not outside, stop looking out the window, he's downstairs doing what he does best”

“A tantrum?” Syzoth laughs lightly, although at times he was annoying, he never failed to find certain sincere attitudes that (Violette) had, tender.

“Yes, that's right, you are a genius, and because you behaved, Santa brought you your gift”

Johnny handed him a package containing a sports sweater, it was thermal and clearly expensive, but it would keep Syzoth warm, accompanied by some pants.

"I know you're watching her from afar, Kenshi and I thought maybe you'd like to go out and play with your kitty." Given the green color of his blood when he blushed, his cheeks were tinted that tone but in a light and subtle way. “Johnny, you know he hates being called that, but thank you, although I don't understand why they give me this.”

“One, you spend your time shivering in the cold, two, at Christmas we exchange gifts between the people we care about, and three, she's just one tantrum away from being deported to Outworld with a sign taped to her forehead that says 'DANGER, NO RETURN' Syzoth laughed and began to change, but not before thanking Johnny and then he would thank Kenshi in the same way, but not even five minutes had passed when the Light went out and a scream was heard in unison, one of those that Mothers and Parents, when they see you doing something wrong, “(Violette)!” I tried to fix those lights to decorate the tree and ended up leaving the whole house without light...

"For God's sake, Syzoth, take her outside to play."

As Johnny sighed in annoyance at my actions and their financial consequences, he laughed at how quickly Syzoth ran down the stairs and grabbed my hand, "Come with me," words that took me to nirvana, even though I was still cold. . . , he took the time to breathe the air a little, it was a new world for him. And before you mention his family and ruin the moment again by destroying his good mood,

He told Me that the reason for his disgusted face was the cold!

“Do you feel very cold?” My curious girl's face and my eyes wide open looking at him, the last frozen neuron in my brain took effect, letting out of my mouth the silliest questions ever heard, I'm sorry, I don't reason when I'm next to him. him. He, look at him, who did it? Would he do it? Let's face it, we would get lost in the beauty of it!

“(Violette) if you know that reptiles…. "No, leave it at that," he laughed cutely and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, "tell me more about what Christmas is," he said with a subtle smile, trying not to laugh at my faces, and well. . , that's all. I did it, gave it my Christmas spirit and maybe a cold.

It's true, I forgot, I saw him shivering from the cold on one occasion and I interrupted the conversation by sitting on his lap and hugging him. Going for a blanket was not an option. I looked into his eyes, he was sitting on his lap, our faces facing each other, an awkward silence, and a hug from me that was reciprocated, "Syzoth, I'll give you warmth if you want, warm hugs." the soul" I smiled and waited for his response, which took a few seconds, although it seemed like hours. "(Vi), it's not just your soul that you are warming." I didn't understand very well, but we entered the house. And finally yes You're wondering, when I went to kiss him on the cheek, he moved my face away, then smiled at my face of fear and shame at possible rejection and brought his face closer to mine to kiss me on the lips. It was a small kiss.. ., I didn't need anything else except Johnny's scream "Who put a mistletoe there?", I swear I didn't realize, wait a second, Syzoth right? The lizard knew. About the mistletoe at Christmas?! No, it was Johnny who told him! Who cares! He kisses me!!!! What will I feel when he puts his forked tongue in my mouth? Well, that's for a future story, who knows? We will take the next step in the New Year

​

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Memphis Malik Species: Medium Occupation: Paramedic Age: 27 Years Old Played By: Cody Face Claim: Anirudh Pisharody

"I’m running on about two hours of sleep and last night my little sister told me that I failed her gaming friend’s ‘vibe check’. So as you can imagine, I’m emotionally devastated."

TW: Parental death

Sanjeev and Priya Malik were avid birdwatchers. Star crossed lovers turned lawyers, anytime they could escape the courtroom or paperwork they were traveling - cameras and books in hand, competing to try to capture the best picture of the rarest birds. Once they had their first and only child, the hobby began to slowly die down until they stopped doing it entirely. Memphis Malik never met his grandparents, both had passed long before he had any memories of them. Yet he knew this fact, and so many more about both of them. Mostly because they never shut the hell about it.

Memphis had no clue two people could be so bitter about not being able to birdwatch. Or that their only child had chosen to become a teacher instead of lawyers like they had been. Or really, everything under the sun. But since Memphis was a little kid, he could see both of his grandparents clear as day as if the two of them had never passed. And unfortunately for him, he could hear them too; and all the opinions that came with them.

Unfortunately for Memphis, they weren’t the only ones. His powers had activated earlier than most, or so his mother had told him. The ability to see and speak to the dead, an ability that was apparently not exclusive to their family. What seemed to be exclusive though was the rate at which they became ghosts. For as long as anybody could remember, every single Malik that passed away returned as a ghost. Forced to exist on this Earth until they lost any sense of themselves and were forced to be exorcized. That was apparently a unique Malik family trait. They all wanted something from the remaining Malik’s. Their exact ask changed from ghost to ghost but it all boiled down to one common desire: peace. Everyone wanted to move on, and that wasn’t something Memphis could help them do.

Despite this, growing up wasn’t terrible. Both of his parents supported Memphis and tried to keep the ghosts from bothering him too much. Sure, school was a nightmare when one of his ancestors would show up and scream at him to deliver a letter to a former loved one or to find a box hidden under a mattress and throw it away without looking at what was in it- gross - but overall, he had developed coping mechanisms and had his parents and his younger sister that helped him not only get through school - but medical school and residency too. 

Memphis couldn’t provide his family peace, so he wasn’t sure why he thought he could keep his forever. When his parents were taken from him, everything started falling apart. The worst part? His parents were right there as ghosts, watching him fall to pieces without being able to do anything about it. 

Now it was just Memphis and his little sister Clarissa, who so far hadn’t shown any signs of being a medium herself. Not yet, at least. But whatever his parents had been doing to distract the ghosts didn’t exist anymore, and for now the only person left to bear the brunt of this curse was Memphis. He may already be cursed, but he would be damned if he was going to become some lonely, trapped spirit like the rest of his family did. Most importantly, he refused to make Clary have to deal with it. So now it was on him to find a way to finally put an end to it.

Character Facts:

Personality: Friendly, exhausted, clueless, cautious, scatter-brained, distracted, paranoid

Memphis almost always wears large, noise-canceling headphones. They have become the most reliable way to tune out whatever member of his family had shown up to wreak havoc on his life. Unfortunately this also comes at the cost of him tending to block out the rest of the world as well

Memphis has spent his entire life trying to avoid his family’s spirits. So much so that he’s never really explored the other sides of the supernatural world in White Crest. 

Memphis has taken over sole custody of his twelve year old sister, Clary. She has basically become his entire world now, and he is entirely too dependent on her. She could use some space.

Between the ghosts constantly trying to grab his attention, the hospital, and caring for a twelve year old - Memphis is very tired. 

Something seems to keep his family members from expressing exactly how they died. Memphis is no expert on curses, but he’d say that was definitely suspicious.

While Memphis did finish med school, the death of his parents made things too difficult to continue his residency. He dropped out shortly after to focus on taking care of his sister.

[forevfangirlwrites]

Hii so I got an idea for the actress au where an old school friend of Percy's reaches out and Annabeth warns him that some people reach out to try get in on the fame or to get money and stuff, trying to look out for him based on her own experience and it turns out the old friend is actually a nice person wanting to catch up and stuff. Maybe annabeth came also to spot signs of trouble and the guy brought his gf as well so it wasn't awkward. Hope u enjoy! Ik ur busy so only write if u got the time

“Woah…”

He’s looking down at his phone, still surprised at the message staring back at him. Annabeth’s next to him on the couch, tapping away at her laptop, and shoots him a curious glance.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just…I haven’t heard from her in ages…” He trails off to start typing a response.

“Who?”

He looks up to see Annabeth clearly abandoning her work to devote her full attention to him.

“A friend from high school,” he explains. “She just DMed me on Instagram?”

Annabeth’s eyebrows scrunch together in an adorable way. “What friend? What did she say?”

He can’t hold back his smile as he responds. “Why are you so concerned?” he teases, poking her side.

She squeals and makes a face at him. “I’m just curious,” she replies, crossing her arms.

He’d love to tease her further, but he has a hard time denying Annabeth…well, anything.

“She just said hi and that she saw I’m in LA and suggested we meet up sometime.”

“Are you going to do it?” She sounds anxious and he raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, probably, I’m curious to see what she’s like now. Plus, I don’t really have that many friends here.”

Annabeth doesn’t respond, but everything about her body language screams that she’s worried about something.

“What?” he prompts, nudging her arm.

“Nothing…”

“Do you not want me to go?” It’s the only thing he can think that would cause her to react like this. Annabeth sighs, looking down at her lap.

“I just want you to be careful…I mean…it’s just…”

Okay, he’s starting to worry now. He scoots closer to her. “Annabeth, what is it?”

She sighs again. “It’s just that now that you’re publicly my boyfriend. Some people might….take advantage of you…”

She trails off but he finally pieces it together. “So you think she reached out because she knows I’m with you?”

Annabeth winces “I’m just saying it’s a possibility and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

This line of thinking hadn’t occurred to him and he considers it now. “I don’t think she’s like that…” he starts. ���Or at least she wasn’t in high school, she never kept up with celebrity news like that.”

And if she really is the same as she was in high school (and Percy thinks that’s a high probability) he doesn’t think Annabeth has much to do with her reaching out to him.

“Well still, be careful.”

Annabeth’s worry is apparent and cuter than it probably should be.

“I will,” he reassures, pulling her closer to him. She snuggles into his side. “And here I though you were just jealous.”

Annabeth flushes and shoves him but doesn’t move away. “I’m not jealous!”

He smiles into the kiss.  

-.-

About an hour and a half later he gets a reply to his confirmation. He’d simply agreed and asked when and where would be convenient, and he’s lying in bed when his phone buzzes.

It’s a café, ironically not too far from Cali’s, and the timing is fine too. He’s replying as he hears Annabeth enter the room.

“Oh,” he starts, still typing. “I decided to meet her by the way, it’s at—”

His voice cuts off when he sees Annabeth still wrapped up in a towel from her shower. And though it’s not the first time he’s seen her like this, it never fails to impress him.

Especially when she’s wearing a cute pout on her face.

“Where?” Annabeth asks.

“Huh?”

So maybe his head is completely somewhere else.

“Where are you meeting her?” Annabeth crosses her arms.

“Some café down the street from Cali’s,” he answers. Still distracted, he sits up in bed. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Don’t bother with your pajamas.”

Annabeth blushes and he considers it a win. But unfortunately, she stalks off towards the huge walk-in closet. “When?”

KEEP READING ON AO3

[majeoeje]

Only your love redeems me

Chlorinde x reader

In my last words. I love you

"It was foretold. It was my destiny" you say in a sing song voice as you drew your blade in a sickeningly calm matter, it made her tremble in anguish.

Clorinde bit the inside of her cheek as she felt her anger bubbling from the pit of her stomach

"To massacre countless of people were your destiny!!?!" never ever had Chlorinde raised her voice at you but she screamed as she was filled with rage

Seeing this moment happen before her very eyes made yesterday felt nothing but a distant dream..

..

.

"What about this one?" You pointed to a scar on Clorinde's upper arm, it seems to resemble a star in the way it's shaped, small lines of skin reacing outward at 5 almost even in different direction

"You were there remember? When we met that drunk man who stabbed me with a unique screw

"Oh yeah! He was kinda cuckoo, i can't believe he left you injured like that" you reminiced.

"Such coincidence he had to challenge me in a duel in order to proof his honor" you traced the scar once again with a blank expression on your face "he should've faced trial instead." You laughed halfheartedly "because there was no way i'd let him live after that"

The expression on your face leaves a sour taste in Clorinde's tounge

"My love, i don't think i need to remind you. We are duelist. Not murderers" the air shifted from lighthearted moment to a serious one, she loved you but sometimes she was concerned about how this occupation had twisted your morale

"I know dearest, forgive me. I was just joking"

You placed kisses on Clorinde's hand, kissing her unpleasant feelings away. it was rough with scars that had adorned it. Though every scar in your occupation are a badge of victory when it comes to fighting people for a living

That's right. You were a duelist. Not a murderer. But sometimes an uncomfortable feeling would surge in Clorinde's chest seeing the satisfaction in your face in each and every one of your victory.

She wonders if truly, you had crossed that thin line between duty and truly psychotic.

But she is no saint nonetheless. More lives had died in the palm of hers hands than yours. No matter how much she hates every second of it. No matter how much she washes all the blood that stained her fingertips, it would never be fade away

It stripped her of her humanity and made her feel like nothing but a killing machine.

Though in this dimlited room you admired her like noneother, her cold and muddied hands caressed by yours as you uttered sweet words in her ear as if she didn't just killed another man just this afternoon. Trutfully you were two sides of the same coin

"I love you" you'd whispered in her ear, it left her shivered down her spine. Those words never fail to make her cold existance came to be human once more

"do you love me?" You'd asked. And it would make the woman think of thousands of ways to woo you with her answer, but she always settled with the same answer everytime

"I do love you" she'd breathed out embracing you "more than i could ever comprehend"

That's right. She couldn't ever figure out how you exactly work, with rage and hunger for revenge that so clearly lies in your heart, festering your whole soul. All these worry that lays heavy in her heart would cloud her mind day to day, but she couldn't help but brush it off. Because slightest touch of your skin would set her soul aflame. She can't help but ignore all the overloading signs

"When i have to prove my honor, i'd only want to duel you my dear"

You said it like it was just another sweet nothings that you'd whisper in her ears, as if you weren't just implying that you would commit a chrime

"Please stop saying ridiculous things" she says, worried once again capturing your face in the palm of your hands " i won't let such outcomes to happen"

"Oh my lady..." you stared in awe, almost entranced with her will, you always do

You found peace in her touch, you always had.

She was the champion duelist. She could execute you if she has to. She's stronger and much agile. It is her duty.

"You're kinder than you give yourself credit you know?" you sighed, twirling with her purple hair with your fingers

But she won't. You make her weak without even trying

Her limbs were made to embrace you, not tear you apart.

"You can't defeat me like this now can't you" she'll ignore these words like she always does choosing to close her eyes

But of course she couldn't close his eyes forever now could she

...

..

.

"Wake up chlorinde." Your voice echoes inside the arena, knocking chlorinde off her dream. Your voice sounded more strained and tired than in her memory.

You looked very different than how you used to. Dark circles that formed under your eyes, unrefined posture in your stance, and messed up hair and bloodshot eyes

Your eyes had change drastically. Something different that haunts it made it make her feel uneasy

"It's okay chlorinde"

No it's not. How could she possibly kill the love of her life? Just...how are you so calm after what you had done. Was this your plan all along? To weaken her with pretending to be in love with her?

"It was foretold. It was my destiny" you say in a sing song voice as you drew your blade in a sickeningly calm matter, it made her tremble in anguish. "Draw your blade, my love.

Chlorinde bit the inside of her cheek as she felt her anger bubbling from the pit of her stomach

"To massacre countless of people were your destiny!!?!" never ever had Chlorinde raised her voice at you but she screamed as she was filled with rage

"It was. And i want you to stop ignoring it"

No. No no no no no no no no no NO..

Why. Just...why. she'd ask to the sky. But when she finally looks down to your eyes she'd see it drained of the rage that once drowned you. A face of someone who had lost their purpose in life.....or perhaps achived them

"Open your eyes chlorinde" you said once again.

She did. Finally acknowledging your true colors, drawing her blade

"Do you have any last words?" She asked. To you, it was her last resort to convince herself that you truly were not that bad and that you had your reasonings. Anything. To redeem yourself. So that she have a reason to hesitate

But you knew she was just looking for excuses not to kill you, it made you want to throw up at the thought of begging for your life. You knew your words could alter her mind, she would've stopped in her tracks at the mere mention of something..... anything. And surrender.

Well that's not really an exciting ending now is that? So you chose for her as you stared dead into her eyes

"I have never loved you"

To die with a lie on your lips has always been your fate

(A/N:i made this half asleep so bear with me)

[carmenized-onions]

SIGH you got me good with this one I fear

Okay so the chap is still fresher in my mind this time since I read yesterday!! Itemized yap sheet incoming below based mostly on the order they happened

1) Yoooooo

That just cracked me up okay. Had to add. But also like. I love them. I love that Tony is so nervous to catch up with Richie bc it means talking abt mikey, but also relieved and excited ish to talk to richie bc it means talking abt mikey does that makes ykwim

2) AAAAAAA listen the way that Carmy thinks about Tony to calm down?? Like hes having a panic attack and he thinks about Tony and is calmed slightly by smelling her shampoo in his hair literally makes me ILL

2b) kinda related but also like not ?? But Anyway Like. Carmy like unsure whether or not he is actually scared/believes Richie when he says he could end his relationship with tony got me like on my knees in my workplace when I read that bc UGH he has absolutely zero confidence and i just want to kiss his face okay. Also him not really wanting to share tony with Richie is so real of him actually. Like he wants Tony to just be his and that's so sweet.

3) if we dont find out the chip storyline ill riot if only for Carmy's sake cause like Carm, im also now very intrigued that Richie didn't immediately blab when prompted but also go richie thats very cute

4)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Scream break mb

5) last one but like the painting??? The way that it starts with the beef and has like pictures of before and stuff and the mid point is mikey and then it has pictures from like the building process and ends with the The Bear sign? IM DECEASED YOU KILLED ME THATS SO GOOD WHAT LITERALLY WHAT

6)okay im i liar whatever could i edit the post yes will i no. I digress. Last one fr. So the way both their lil povs end with them saying on friday they'll do right by each other??? Im so gone actually wtf

Anyways as always i adore you and your writing RAAAA

HEHEHEH GOTCHU!!! GOT YOUR ASS!!!

yoooooooo -- The next convos are really some of my favourite to write, i get to amp up the funny and math out what their texting styles would probably be, it's fun!!

Also yes, it's very much that part of grief where it's like a knife to talk about them, but it's also nice, it's weird when in the grief process, everyone around you acts like that person just simply Never Happened in fear of being triggering-- It's nice for Tony and Richie to get to talk raw!! Even if it's anxiety inducing to lead with it!!

2. Hehehhehe, he does it a LOT, When he called her before, trying and failing to get her voicemail, when he was having an episode in the diner and then Tony came back and he became Normal mostly. Grounding Tool but it's a Person

3. listen baby, I don't put a gun in the first act just to not fire it. I've had this backstory since chapter two. And honestly, I was extremely nervous that someone was gonna guess it and I was being too obvious. Thank God, no one has, yet-- But also no one's guessed, so like, feel free to throw in your guesses, love to hear em.

4. AHHHHHHHH!!!! Here let's see, during this scream break what can I give you...

This is what I'm screaming over, personally. This is Chapter 10 alone, LMAO. AND I'M NOT EVEN DONE LMAOOOO. The goal for me is to get it out this Friday, so it's like, timely and on theme. But we'll see how tired I am, this work week. Might've just gotten a commission (that I honestly don't want to take lmaoo) so we'll see. Fingers crossed. It's definitely gonna need me to take my eyes off it for a day and come back to, so keep your fingers crossed, for me.

5. OH GOOD! I was worried I described it poorly; there's always that fear, when you have to make the thing that's like the thing of the story, and if it's not good then what the FUCK WAS IT FOR!!!!!????

I'm vv happy to hear it killed you, is what I'm trying to say. I also thought the idea was very sweet. Hehhehe

6. You're always free to yap on end, never fear such a thing. Yes!! Their POVs start and end the same way, which is just like, a cute lil touch, yknow. Two anxious mfs. In the club tnnnnn, trying to do right by each other if it fuckin' KILLS them

thank you thank you thank u as always i love to hear this and i hope u enjoy Friday whenever the FUCK it comes out.