#i made this the day after the finale to cope but wasn't sure if i liked it

[johnslittlespoon]

– take me back to the start 🕊

#:( #they were so young and happy #isolating the dialogue at the end made me cry so hard LOL #i made this the day after the finale to cope but wasn't sure if i liked it #but i miss them so bad so whatever i'm posting it now </3 #this song is so mota coded it hurts so bad #johnslittlespoon edits #buck x bucky #buckbucky #buck x bucky edit

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #requests

[girlgenius1111]

all i do is try, try, try

alexia and r finally talk.

part 3!

"I can't- I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired, Alexia, I can't." You choked out. You suddenly looked so completely broken, all of the fight, the frustration nowhere to be found.

Alexia felt useless; everything in her was telling her to pull you into a hug, but she wasn't sure you wanted it, not from her. She turned, looking helplessly for Olga. Her girlfriend stood in the doorway, a small frown on her face. She nodded reassuringly at Alexia, as if to tell her to trust her instincts. Your sister turned back to you, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You practically collapsed into her, wrapping your arms around her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear if you weakened your grip for even a second. Alexia could feel you trembling against her, and she held solidly to you, blinking hard at the tears that were gathering in her eyes. Your anguished sobs, the way you clung to her shirt, the way you gasped for air in between your cries, it was all killing her.

"Ale, I can't anymore, please just make it stop," You sobbed, and Alexia pressed a kiss into the top of your head.

"Hey, hey, cariño, it's okay, you're okay," Alexia murmured, trying to calm you down.

"No, I can't, I can't do it, Ale."

"I don't know what you mean. Talk to me, pequeña, please. Tell me, and I'll fix it." Alexia pleaded, wishing that anyone else was here with her. You didn't need her, you needed Alba, or your mom, but she was the only one around. The one who had made her so upset, and she didn't know if she could fix it.

"I can't, I can't," You repeated, and Alexia pulled away from the embrace, gripping your face in between her hands.

"Breathe, pequeña, please. Calm down for me, and we can then we can fix it. You just need to calm down." The blonde insisted, running her hand through your hair in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

For the second time in as many days, Alexia began trying to calm you down, hoping her words would work better this time. "You're safe with me, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You don't need to worry about anything right now, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

Just when Alexia was going to call for Olga, tell her to get someone on the phone, you push away from her like you'd been burned, resting your head in your hands as you stutter through several deep breaths.

You couldn't go to Alexia for comfort, not now. You needed to fix this yourself. Your sister shouldn't have to be responsible for trying to put the broken pieces of you back together.

"Nena?" Alexia asked after a minute, resting her hand on your back.

"Just give me a second," you responded, shifting to avoid her touch. Alexia sighed, sitting back into the couch, her eyes never leaving you.

Once you'd gotten some control back over yourself, you sat back, your face melting into a mask of indifference. "Sorry, Ale. I'm sorry." You stated, before moving to grab your crutches and get off the couch, fleeing the conversation seeming like your only option at this point. Before you could, Alexia pulled on the back of your shirt, forcing you back down onto the couch.

"No, nena, no. We're going to talk about this, please. Talk to me. I'm begging you, I want to hear what you have to say."

You rub your face roughly. "I don't know what to say, Alexia."

Your sister pauses, not quiet sure where to begin. "What were you saying to Olga? You said... you said you thought I would hate you, that i'd be disappointed in you."

"I don't- I don't think I'm strong enough for this, Alexia, to come back from this."

"Chica, it is only a broken ankle. It is only a few months." Alexia didn't understand, not at all.

"A few months is a long time. And I'm so tired." You replied, struggling to say enough to satisfy your sister, but not so much that you exposed how horribly you were coping with everything.

Alexia knew you were exhausted, she could tell now. She looked at you, and she finally saw what everyone around you had been seeing. She just didn't understand what had pushed you to this point; it wasn't her, couldn't be her. "Why are you so tired, nena?"

"I'm trying so hard to be perfect, and I keep messing up. There's so much pressure, all the time, and I feel like it's killing me." Your choice of words wasn't accidental or random, and your sister could tell. She inhaled slowly, before trying to put herself in your position.

"The media, it is a lot? The expectations are a lot, but you can't pay too much attention to them," Alexia began, trying to reassure you.

You shook your head, cutting her off. "The media is a lot, yes. It's also... fuck. It's also you, Ale. I feel like nothing I do is good enough for you. I'm not strong like you, I'm not perfect like you, no matter how hard I try."

"I don't understand. I have made you feel this way?" The blonde asked, her voice incredibly small.

"You always want more from me, and sometimes it's okay, but other times, I just feel like I can't do anything right, anything the way you want me to. You tell me I'll be back before 4 months, and it's like all of a sudden there's a deadline at 3 months, and I have to be back by then, or you won't be happy with me." You chanced a look at your sister, finding her completely and utterly shocked.

You continued, realizing that you might as well just tell the entire truth at this point. "I just want to be good enough, Alexia. Good enough that you're proud and that you love me."

Alexia's face crumples at this, reacting to your words like she'd been struck by you. She seems to consider what to say for a while, mouth opening and closing before finally, she settles on something, looking at you.

"I am so sorry." She said, drawing in a big breath as if to prepare for a long speech. You shake your head, but she holds up a hand, telling you to be quiet for a minute. "I never meant to make you feel like that, never. I thought I was doing the right thing, pushing you to be better in a way you wanted. I didn't realize it was too much, I didn't realize you were struggling so much, nena."

Alexa paused, getting her emotions under control.

"I don't want you to be me, or do things just because you think they'll make me happy. Pequeña, you are you, and you are perfect. I don't want you to be anybody but yourself. Whatever makes you happy, that's all I want."

"But with football," you began, before Alexia cuts you off with a strong shake of her head.

"Fuck football. Hermanita, if you wanted to quit football today, I would love you just as much, I would be just as proud of you. You don't need to earn that from me; you are a good person, an incredible sister, and that is why I love you. Not because of what you do or don't do on the pitch. That doesn't matter to me, not really. You matter to me. More than anything."

You still wouldn't look at your sister, so Alexia grabs you by the shoulders turning you to face her. Her eyes are glistening with tears when she speaks, the words cracking you open, leaving a chasm of pain behind.

"You will always be good enough for me, do you understand? I will always love you. Nothing you could do will ever change that." Alexia promised, watching as your body sags with relief. You lean imperceptibly towards her, and Alexia pulls you in again, not letting go even as you shake against her.

"Oh, pequeña. I love you, hermanita. I love you more than anything." Alexia whispered. "I'm so sorry you felt like this, so so sorry. Mi hermanita perfecta, te amo mucho de menos."

You stayed like that for a while, face buried in your sister's shirt, letting go of all of the stress and sadness that had been weighing on you for the past months. Alexia wanted to cry, too, but she didn't let herself. Forcing you to deal with her emotions right now wouldn't be fair. Not after all that she had unknowingly put you through.

"You're going to take your time getting better, however long it takes. And you'll stay here with me and Olga, as long as you need. I'm going to be a better sister, nena, I promise you. I promise." Your sister said the words quietly, but the weight of them was not diminished.

"And you won't be mad if it takes longer?" You asked, leaning back and drying your eyes.

"No. Never."

"Okay." You said, a small smile gracing your lips. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

"You didn't overreact; not at all. The only thing you need to be sorry about as that you didn't tell me sooner how much you were struggling. I'm your sister, nena, you can tell me anything. Always."

-----

Alexia waited until you were soundly asleep in your bed before she allowed herself her emotions. She barely made it in the door of her bedroom before tears were flowing down her face, and she was stumbling blindly towards where her girlfriend awaited her in bed.

"Oh, Ale," Olga sighed, pulling her girlfriend into her arms.

"How did I do this to her? For months, and not realize the pressure she was under, how unhappy she was?" Alexia sobbed, gripping tight to her girlfriend.

"Alexia, you didn't know." Olga tried, but her girlfriend only cried harder.

"I should have. She's my responsibility, I should have known."

"She didn't want you to know. All of this, it isn't your fault. You both should have communicated better. And you will, from here on out. If there is anything I know about you, mi amor, it's that when you set your mind on something, you do it. You'll help her, Ale, you'll fix it. She'll be okay again."

"But she's not okay now." Alexia said, looking up at her girlfriend with wide, watery eyes.

Olga chuckled lightly, running her hand through her girlfriend's soft hair. "She can't always be okay, amor. She has you, though, and she trusts you. You'll make sure she gets through this."

A knock at the door interrupted Alexia before she could respond, and she hastily wiped her eyes, sitting up off her girlfriend as she told you to come in. The door creaked open, and you hesitantly crutched in a step.

"What's up, nena?" Alexia asked, smiling confidently at you, as if she wasn't just sobbing into her girlfriend's shirt. Either you didn't notice, or you pretended that you didn't.

"Can I... can I sleep in here tonight?" You asked, eyes flitting anxiously between your sister and her girlfriend. Both of them only smiled, though, and Alexia scooted closer to Olga, motioning you closer. You scooted into the next to her, letting your sister wrap you up in her arms, like she used to do when you'd sneak into her bed after a bad nightmare.

"Goodnight, nena. I love you. Tomorrow will be better." Alexia murmured. You nodded in agreement.

"I love you to, Ale." You told her quietly.

You weren't exactly sure, but as Alexia's arms tightened around you, you considered that maybe she needed this as much as you did.

-----

Things from then on out were easier for you; you had your confidante back, your shoulder to cry on. Alexia proved to you everyday that she meant what she'd promised you. The biggest instance of this was when you suffered a rather unfortunate setback in recovery, one that sent you back on crutches only days after you'd finally gotten off of them.

-----

You were in the gym, working on lifting some weights, trying to keep the strength in your arms up. It was a freak accident, you tripping in your clunky boot, and stumbling into Jana, who managed to keep you upright. Not upright enough that you didn't step down, hard on your ankle. Apparently just in the right spot for you to set your healing back several weeks. You'd collapsed onto the ground, crying out. You were upset, silently so, until Alexia arrived to the medical room you were in, having sprinted over from the training pitch.

"Hey, pequeña, I'm here." Alexia announced, eyes fluttering over you frantically. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"A little. I have to go back on crutches." You said tearfully. It had been a while since had Alexia seen you be so willingly emotionally vulnerable. She hoped it was a sign that things were improving, that you were trusting her again.

"Let's get you home, yeah? I texted Olga, she's picking up dinner for us. Your favorite." Alexia smiled, helping you up and off the table. You were silently stunned at her lack of questions; it was completely bizarre that your sister didn't ask any questions about the injury. Her focus seemed to be entirely on getting you to the car, and home. She went out of her way to make ridiculous jokes she knew would make you laugh, effectively distracting you when she did an impression of Mapi staring at Ingrid taking penalty shots.

You were almost home when you brought up what was on your mind.

"You didn't ask how much longer I'd be out for." You mentioned quietly.

"It doesn't matter. I just wanted to know you were okay." Alexia said, not a shred of doubt in her voice. You stared over at her, where her eyes were fixed on the road in front of her.

"Ale?" You said.

She glanced over at you. "Yeah?"

"You're a really good sister." You told her. Alexia could only give you a watery smile, turning back towards the road, although she squeezed your shoulder appreciatively as she did so. It meant more to her than she could express, you telling her that.

You'd worked hard to trust her again; she never directly showed you how much your confession had affected her, but you knew it had weighed heavily on her. You'd caught the tail end of the conversation she'd had with her girlfriend, and you promised yourself, there and then, that you'd try to have more faith in yourself. If not because you deserved it, because you'd do it for your sister, who carried the weight of everyone around her's problems on her shoulders at all times.

It wouldn't just be for her, eventually. It would be because you knew you deserved kindness from yourself.

-----

not proofread. hope its everything you could have hoped for :)

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader #woso one shot

[fraugwinska]

I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''

WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!

Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Mother O'Mine

Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.

You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.

If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.

Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.

Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.

Alastor's mom.

"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."

The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.

Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.

It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."

He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.

And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.

Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...

A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.

"Is this seat taken?"

The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.

Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.

It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.

"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"

"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.

Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."

After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.

"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.

"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."

You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.

"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.

"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."

"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"

His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.

You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.

"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"

"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."

"Then, I'll recite it for you."

"Why?"

You gave him a sad smile.

"Because I want to."

He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.

The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.

"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.

"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."

His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.

"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."

Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.

"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."

You held him tighter.

"I know, Al... I know."

You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.

It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.

"Darling, I..."

"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."

You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #quickfic #light angst #comfort #alastor is a mommas boy #alastor needs a hug #and a good cry #and some sleep

[maxarchive]

Fear, faith, friendship: Inside F1’s most precious relationship

[...]

When now-triple world champion Max Verstappen was first promoted to the Red Bull team mid-season in 2016, race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase was tasked with moulding an 18-year-old possessing both supreme talent and a frank demeanour with only a few days' notice.

"I had experience working with multiple drivers before Max, and that was one of the biggest helps in terms of hitting the ground running with him. I think if I would have been a newbie to my role - I won't quite say he would have eaten me alive, but I'm not sure he would have had that respect for a junior engineer."

Their relationship was an immediate success. Verstappen became the youngest race winner in F1 history, finishing first on his debut at the Spanish Grand Prix. But, generally, the first few years of Lambiase and Verstappen's partnership were spent chasing perennial frontrunners Mercedes.

"Max learned some really harsh lessons in the two or three years before 2021. His racecraft really was something that we focused on, making sure we were just picking up points when it wasn't possible to win a race. We were concentrating on building his consistency, needing to be finishing every race, maybe not putting himself in a situation where he can end up in a 50/50 accident with another driver."

[...]

Sometimes, though, tension between driver and race engineer can spill over in the most high-pressure moments.

Now in his ninth season working with Verstappen, having won the championship in each of the past three seasons, Lambiase's voice is a staple of every F1 broadcast and has become recognisable to fans all around the world.

The pair's success does not mean their communications are entirely straightforward.

"I think it is inevitable in any relationship that there are disagreements. The first port of call is acceptance of that. Secondly, you need to have faith in each other that it is for the greater good rather than there being any kind of malicious undertone. That is at the core of the relationship. As an engineer, I need to understand that ultimately Max is in the hot seat, not me. So while we are all working in a pressurised environment, the driver is at a level well beyond that. As an older citizen I would like to think I am mature enough to step back and let him vent when necessary, but to also make him understand why decisions are being made. If I was a yes man, I would have been gone long ago. We have just got that honesty in the relationship between us that we can be blunt and straight-talking when needed."

As well as coping with adrenaline themselves, race engineers must manage the pressure on their racers.

The 2021 campaign was arguably the most intense in F1's 74-year history. After an acrimonious year marked by heavy collisions between the pair on track and serial sparring between their respective team principals in the paddock, Verstappen and rival Lewis Hamilton's title fight came down to the wire at the season finale in Abu Dhabi.

"I wouldn't want to repeat 2021 in a hurry. It was incredibly competitive on and off the track [but] sometimes I think it went beyond the realms of sport. In terms of taking that pressure away from Max, I tried to stress with everybody here that we continued as normal. We treated every race as a single event rather than trying to look too far down the line at what could be."

[...]

In some cases though, the idea of starting afresh following the end of such a deep connection doesn't appeal any more.

"I honestly see Max as a younger brother. We can talk about anything and anyone at any time. We're at the point where we just felt completely relaxed and at ease with each other. Maybe I am speaking out of turn, but I don't think I would have any interest in working with another driver now. Having had the success that we have enjoyed together with Max, working with one of the greatest talents that the sport has ever seen, I don't think it would be fair on another driver, from their perspective or mine, to try and replicate what we have achieved with Max."

In Formula 1, as in all our lives, the magic of the most special relationships will always remain utterly unique.

#max verstappen #gianpiero lambiase #f1 #2024

[strlingsav]

Memories

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Meeting your ex leads you to reminiscing.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Thanks to @mykneeshurt for helping me out of my rut with this one 🫶🏻

It wasn't your wisest decision; you'd been careful thus far in the grieving process not to use poor coping mechanisms to get you through bad days, but the anonymity and seclusion of the downtown bar brought you a bit of peace. More than yoga or journaling- especially after the first sip of your drink.

You hated to admit it felt good. Even if you sat in silence and merely stared down the liquid in your glass, your brain was finally empty. You didn't want to sit with your feelings anymore, you wanted to get drunk and pretend they didn't exist.

You even contemplated trying a cigarette. Another poor decision surely wouldn't lead you any deeper into your already darkened abyss. The bearded man to your right, with one hand around a beer and the other holding a smouldering stick, made it look serene- cathartic, even. A flat expression and dull eyes, you envied his lack of awareness.

You stuck out like a sore thumb, though. You didn't meld with the horde of middle-aged men, or blue-collar workers crowded around a pool table. Your legs were crossed on the barstool, hair neatly done and makeup on your face- if it wasn't smudged yet.

It made it easy for him to spot you. As if he couldn't find you in a sea of people anyway, your appearance drew in his gaze immediately. His heart dropped to his stomach, a rapid increase in his pulse that throbbed in his throat.

He hadn't seen you for years. Not since you left, since he left. A scarred wound sat in his chest, reopened when you texted him, now raw and bleeding as he watched you. His saliva dried in his mouth, breath catching in his throat when your head turned to meet his eyes, and he swore he watched your lips turn to a small smile.

He wondered if your smile meant you were happy to see him- or whether it was a polite show of acknowledgement. Though rather than turning your back to him, you faced him, resting your jaw in your hand. He sauntered over, his pulse still thumping against his ribs, his hands suddenly clammy and warm- like he wasn't a seasoned soldier.

Sliding in next to you, an arms' length apart, he faced forward, still not yet able to fully find your eyes; eyes he'd missed for years.

Your text came as a shock, though he couldn't deny he'd been reluctantly praying you'd reach out, change your mind, give him a second chance. It was vague, a reminder of who you were, as if he'd ever forget your name and number, and an invitation to the bar you'd made yourself comfortable in. He couldn't say no.

He said your name- a greeting, rolling off his tongue like you'd never left.

"Simon," You nodded. "Thanks for meeting me."

He finally turned his head, his black eyes finding yours with hesitation. You swallowed, nearly succumbing to the nostalgia and breaking into tears, but held strong when he nodded in response and you heard his voice for the first time in a long time.

"Surprised to hear from you. Everythin' alright? You doin' well?" He asked, still nonchalantly peering around even though he was nearly salivating at the smell of you. Still the same- his favourite scent, mixed with your addictive pheromones. It made his stomach churn.

"Yeah," You nodded shortly. "Just needed a friend. How have you been?"

"We friends now?" A hint of humour in his tone made you scoff.

"I needed someone I know- someone who knows me." Your eyes softened as you watched him, suddenly feeling guilty for inviting him.

"Knew you years ago," He started. "Not sure I know you now."

"I'm the same person, Simon," You scoffed again. "Just older."

"And married." He had been stealing glances at your hand, eyeing the tan line looped around your ring finger. He tried not to let his jealousy be as obviously apparent as it felt, swallowing harshly.

Your fingers immediately reached the absence of a silver band, massaging slowly for comfort like you'd always done.

"Separated," You admitted. "A few months now."

He watched your eyes begin to water, feeling resentful of the man who got to marry you- the man you chose over him and were so emotional about now. Though your tears weren't for the man you'd recently left behind- you'd finally come face to face with the man you'd always wanted.

"Still holdin' on?" He asked.

You shook your head, still holding the invisible ring in your fingers. "It's been over for a long time, just finally did something about it."

Simon nodded thoughtfully. Still, the lump of anger sat in his throat, but it was mostly jealousy. Seeing your face again reminded him of the memories he'd pushed down into his chest cavity and burned with whiskey and beer. He didn't need to be reminded that you'd walked away- he didn't even want to entertain the idea of another man touching you.

"You wanna talk about it?" His voice dripped with disinterest and reluctance. It made you chuckle.

"No," You grinned. "I'd rather drink about it."

"That I can do."

His fingers lifted as he ordered a drink, and another for you, while you smiled softly. Truthfully, your feelings for Simon had never faded. Even at the courthouse with your ex-husband, a part of you was still overseas with Simon. Though your decision to leave Simon wasn't easy, you'd suffered too much loss to stay and risk even more.

You'd settled down, naively accepted your ex-husband's proposal, and chose to leave him after nearly two years of marriage- another difficult decision, though not nearly as difficult as saying goodbye to Simon.

The more alcohol in your system, the more you began to remember; every fight, every kiss, every time he touched you. It wrapped around your heart, nostalgia-filled daydreams that evoked warmth in your stomach and pliability in your body. Hours passed before you realized that your speech was slower, and your gaze was fuzzy as your eyes locked in on Simon.

Your hand reached his arm- an innocent gesture at first, though his eyes narrowed at you, feeling your touch for the first time in years.

"Do I look the same?" You teased, rocking side to side, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Or do I have more wrinkles?"

He shook his head, face stoic and serious. "Still just as beautiful."

Your heart leapt, though you were speechless. Awkwardly searching for an appropriate response, you pursed your lips.

Simon tensed. "Sorry- didn't mean to-"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "It's okay. It's just been a while since I've heard that."

Simon paused, watching your body language.

"Thank you, Simon. I missed you."

The latter slipped out- a sharp jolt ran through your body as you sat up straight.

"Think you're drunk," He huffed.

You nodded, letting out a short chuckle. "I am. Doesn't mean I didn't miss you. We dated once, remember?"

He pursed his lips. "Could never forget."

After a few moments of quiet reflection, a stinging sensation in your eyes at Simon's vulnerability, you sighed.

"You always were a good man," You huffed. "Can't say I don't regret leaving." You peered up at him, suddenly very aware that you'd finally spilled your feelings to him.

"Why did you?" He asked, cocking his head.

"I was scared," You shrugged. "Of losing you."

He squinted, before nodding. He accepted your answer, even if it didn't quite fit together in his head. He was relieved to know he hadn't done anything to push you away, that maybe there was a chance he could have you again.

"Well, I think I'll head home," You smiled.

"Let me drive you," He offered.

Your eyes met briefly, before you nodded and followed him out to his vehicle. You'd begun to fall asleep in the car- snoring lightly as Simon drove beneath streetlights and overpasses. He realized he didn't know where you lived, not since you'd moved out. Against his better judgement, he decided not to wake you, but to take you back home; to his home.

He even wrapped his arms around you, lifted you from the car while you stirred in his grasp. Peering down at you, his heart clenched at your soft, sleeping face. The feel of your body in his hands again, smooth flesh against his calloused skin.

He let you take his bed; fresh sheets he hadn't slept in in months. Without crossing anymore boundaries, he left you to sleep beneath his duvet and stumbled off to the couch.

You woke not long after, immediately recognizing the bedroom you'd been put in. The same sheets, same decor; it was like you'd been transported back a few years. Only Simon wasn't beside you, and your framed photographs were no longer resting on the nightside table.

You stood to your feet, slowly, cautiously moving around the room, trying your hardest not to give in and search through his things in hopes of finding a trace of yourself there. You left the room, wandering down the familiar hallway to the living room where he was lain on the same beige couch you'd bought together.

You held back a smile- an arm strewn across his face, harsh exhales you knew meant he was still trying to lull himself to sleep. As you neared, he sat up suddenly.

"Sorry," You whispered. "I didn't mean to bother you."

He shook his head, dismissing your apology. "Y'fell asleep," He said. "Didn't know where you lived."

"It's fine." You peered around the room. Just the same but entirely different- it wasn't yours anymore. "Feels strange being here."

"'M sure," He nodded.

You watched from your position on the wall, arms crossed while he situated himself.

"Everything feels so familiar," You sighed.

He was silent, watching you take in the surroundings. It made his heart soften; a bit of resentment having melted and now replaced with desire at seeing you back where you belonged. In your shared home, with him.

"Brings back memories," He nodded.

Your cheeks reddened at the thought of memories; particularly the ones where your late nights ended in slow sex on the very couch you sat on. Staring up at the ceiling, Simon's hands roaming your body, the TV light flashing across your naked bodies.

"We had good times together," You said, turning to meet his eyes.

"Still can," He breathed.

You sighed softly; it was a mouth-watering offer, however innocent he meant it, that brought your pulse between your thighs and warmed your abdomen. But you weren't sure. You hadn't seen Simon in years, hadn't talked in years, you wondered if trying again would only hurt more than the initial breakup.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," You sighed again.

He stood to his feet, moving closer to you.

"You texted me," He said. "Had to be a reason."

"I told you, I needed a friend-"

"Bullshit," He scoffed. "You want more than a friend, love." He neared you, so close his chest nearly touched yours. His hand gently landed on your waist, slowly pulling you closer to him. He shut his eyes, inhaling shakily at the feel of your body against his again. "Think you want me to touch you again."

"Simon-" You started, your eyes flickering to his lips.

"That's it," He smirked, nearly unnoticeably. "Missed hearin' you say my name sweetheart. Missed a lot about you, if 'm bein' honest," He pushed his face into your neck, earning a broken exhale from you when he planted soft lips on your jugular.

"Simon, please," You breathed, your reluctant hands finding his biceps while he continued to wrap himself around you like a boa constrictor.

"Don't beg for me 'less you mean it, sweetheart."

He met your eyes, waiting for you to confirm or deny; your teeth clenched your bottom lip, letting it fall as you whispered another light plea. It was quiet and held no conviction behind it, only pure lust that drove it from the back of your throat.

He pressed his lips against yours, tight fingers holding onto your waist, his other hand gliding up to your jaw. Long fingers spread the length of your throat, forcing your lips against his, waiting to hear the moans he'd missed so badly.

You couldn't help but grind yourself against him- arousal was already flooding through you just while his tongue slid into your mouth, but you needed more.

You began to lift his shirt over his head, while he grabbed it at the neck and disposed of it within seconds. Your blouse, expensive and delicate, was pulled apart at the buttons by Simon's calloused hands, which dove down to cup your breasts and squeeze with fervour.

"Missed your body," He whispered into your neck, tugging your bra down your body to reveal your breasts.

"I missed your touch," You whispered against his jaw, your lip quivering at the nostalgia. "God- I missed you touching me."

He lifted you suddenly, strong hands carrying you to the beige couch- it was like your first time all over again. Goosebumps spreading across your skin, Simon's smell invading your senses. You were breathless, emotional, overwhelmed.

He tugged your jeans down your hips, pulling your panties off as you shuffled out of them. He wasted no time burying his face between your soft thighs, rough hands holding them apart while his tongue slid against your clit.

You gasped sharply, your back lifting off the couch to meet his lips, to grind yourself against his mouth. He'd always been over-eager when it came to your pleasure, though his tongue glided against you, encircling your clit with a level of attentiveness you'd not received in years.

His hand ran up your stomach, softly squeezing your breasts, while the other massaged the pliable flesh of your thighs. He missed having you spread out for him, vulnerable beneath him. Your thighs over his shoulders, your expression of pleasure illuminated by the TV; he'd always been driven by your enthusiastic moans.

"Pussy tastes so fuckin' good, sweetheart," He said, his voice hoarse with restraint. "Just as good as I remember."

You exhaled a whine, a gush of arousal spreading through every limb as he continued his methodical massage. You felt his fingers breach your pussy, slowly but surely stretching you out around him, a strained exhale leaving his mouth.

"Fuck," He whispered, leaning forward to connect his lips to your clit once more.

"Yes, Simon," You breathed into the silence. "Shit- you know just how I like it," You gasped.

His fingers curled inside you, his tongue still flicking quickly over your clit. He'd tasted you so many times, watched you come undone on his tongue- he could pinpoint the moment you were close to cumming. Your pussy fluttering around his fingers, squeezing so tight he nearly couldn't move them, your body writhing with pleasure, lips frozen in a gasp.

He'd been grinding into the softness of the couch, attempting to relieve some of the painful arousal. With each stroke of his fingers, his hips jerked forward, imagining himself deep inside you, your juices coating his cock.

When you came on his fingers, his eyes had flickered to your face, watching you combust with firework-like pleasure, galaxies clouding your vision while he watched with awe.

You exhaled, sitting up to make eye contact with him- he crawled over you like a hungry animal, one hand undoing the belt constricting his pants while the other held himself above you.

"Missed the taste of you," He whispered, his lips inches from yours. "Bein' inside you."

His voice was shaky with desire, a painful erection he wanted to bury inside you only throbbing when you'd chew on your bottom lip.

"I want you inside me," You said in return, watching his eyes close as he digested your words.

"Christ-" He scoffed. "You miss my cock, love? Miss havin' it deep inside you?"

His fingers wrapped around your throat again, watching you nod enthusiastically.

"I do- always have," You breathed. "Please," You whispered, another plea that nearly made him cum right there.

He yanked his pants down his hips, his impressive erection momentarily exposed before he gripped your thigh and yanked it to his waist. You felt the soft head of his cock gently probe your pussy before sliding in- smooth and quick, before he was buried to the hilt, connected so perfectly like you were made for him.

His head dropped, a low groan of satisfaction escaping him before he adjusted his hips and looked up at you.

"Fuckin' hell," He shook his head, situating his hands so he could dive closer, press his body against yours. "Stay right there," He insisted.

You tightened your thighs around his hips, your hands gripping onto the bulging muscles of his back, flexing and moving as he fought his impending orgasm. Your fingernails inadvertently scraped against his skin- you knew he loved it, knew it sent him over the edge.

He moved, a thrust that was uncertain and haphazard, but intentional enough to make your lips part. He was so deep, his pubic bone grinding against your clit- it sent a shiver up your spine.

"Too tight," he mumbled against your mouth. "So fuckin' wet."

He began thrusting, harsh and poignant, grinding into you. Your body rocked with each movement, finding yourself bouncing your hips back to meet him halfway. He'd begun to perspire, sweat dotting his forehead, his lips parted as he huffed.

"Simon," You murmured, pressing your lips to his neck as he thrusted into you.

"Tell me it's mine," He grunted. "This cunt is mine- you're mine."

Your eyes met- even if he'd insisted while inside you, you both knew it was true. You were his, he was yours, no matter the outcome.

"I'm yours," You nodded, "All yours."

He kissed you again, forceful and passionate, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, your stomach tightening as he rubbed against your clit.

Another orgasm overtook you- in turn, he began to reach his peak, desperately searching your eyes, watching you gasp and moan on his cock, struggle to breathe while he pounded into you.

"'M close, love," He breathed.

"Cum inside me," You spat out, clinging to him with all four limbs while he wrapped a hand around your throat.

His thrusts grew sloppy, slow- a long, low grunt from his mouth let you know he was cumming; burying his cock as deep as possible, hips jutting forward with every jolt of pleasure. He groaned into your mouth, a sloppy kiss as you felt his warm cum coat your walls. He exhaled, sitting back, slowly easing out of you while his cum began to drip down your ass. He used a finger to push it back inside you, a sly grin over his lips as he did, and helped you sit up.

A quick clean-up, change of clothes and a glass of water later, the two of you settled in your old bed, your old room. His arm tangled over your side, holding you against his body like you'd escape in his sleep, and you fell asleep with him- like it always should've been.

#cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost smut #mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #strlingsavwrites #call of duty

[calmcoldevening]

Hiii I love your writing could I maybe request some slashers with a s/o who has insomnia

(Add rz Michael and Bubba please

You can add other slashers to)

Oh kitten, thank you for your request ♡︎ I hope it could make you feel better and help to sleep. These boys are all for you

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Slashers with s/o who has insomnia

Characters: Michael Myers (RZ), Bubba Sawyer, Hannibal Lecter, Mark Hoffman

Warnings: mention of cannibalism (just a little, because it's Bubba), insomnia, just problems with sleep, but I tried to make it hurt/comfort

Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspells

Michael Myers

• Expressing emotions towards another person is clearly not Michael's strong point. But when it comes to you... It's something else.

• At first, he didn't pay much attention to your condition, or rather, he just didn't know yet that such apathy and nervousness is something bad. Michael just thought he wasn't used to you yet.

• But still something made him think about it.

• As soon as Michael got used to physical contact, he literally began to feel a hunger for touch. He wanted to touch you, hug you and just feel your tender skin on his rough one. A man slept with you. When he was sure that you were deep asleep and would not notice it, he pressed his huge body against yours like a frightened kitten. He was desperately clutching the fabric of your pajamas, sinking into a restless sleep.

• But that has changed now. You went to bed late, if you went to bed at all, and sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night. Now Michael was falling asleep without your little figure next to him. It was like this.. alien and unpleasant.

• It seemed eerily wrong. You spent less time with him and seemed to be flying in your thoughts all the time, although in fact your body was just trying not to switch off due to lack of sleep. Michael became more aggressive and killed his victims with greater brutality.

• But as soon as the usual veil of anger fell away, and his pitch-black eyes turned soft blue again, Michael noticed in your gaze.. sadness? despair? His heart squeezed a little. Then he really thought about your condition. It probably happened a month after your days became more frequent with insomnia. And he really didn't know what to do.

• But Michael is a smart boy, he found a way out. How easy it was to watch old Loomis for a few days, who, probably because of his work, often experienced insomnia. How to solve this problem? Michael watched the man through the window. Pills? Michael hates pills, and he doesn't want you to become addicted to them in any way. Doctor's visit? Michael wouldn't really want you to have contact with another person, especially if it's a man. Just thinking about it made Michael's heart ache.

• But how does he cope with stress himself? Now he takes out all his accumulated anger and emotions in murders. A knife in his hand and someone else's blood on it cause a man a pleasant wave of trembling. But you can't kill. No, he will never allow you, his fragile flower, to get your soft, tender hands in someone else's vile blood and flesh.

• Although as a child, when he was sad or bad, Michael ate candy... Indeed, sweets. Perhaps it is sweets that will help you cope with stress. It seems that chocolate causes the production of serotonin?

• You were sitting in the bedroom and reading a book, or rather, trying to. Everything was in a fog in my head, and the letters occasionally floated before my eyes, but as soon as your head touched the pillow, drowsiness immediately disappeared, as if it had never existed. Flipping through the next page, you look up and notice the giant figure of your boyfriend in the doorway. Surprisingly, he is wearing his still clean overalls and an orange papier-mache mask. Dirty blonde hair falls gracefully over his broad shoulders. You can't read his stoic expression, but you can see him hiding something behind his back. When you finally pay attention to him, Michael starts walking slowly in your direction. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress will crumple under his weight. Next to your side, he puts a bag with a lot of sweets, and he grabs your legs and climbs between them. The man gently squeezes your hips and puts his head on your lower abdomen, gently rubbing his nose against your skin through your clothes. Like a kitten. Michael was not a fan of soulful conversations, so he preferred actions and touches. You glance briefly at the package and notice inside, in addition to sweets, a small note. Clumsy and a little sloppy, as if written in a child's handwriting: "Hug me if you can't sleep. I'm near."You smile, and your heartbeat quickens. You gently touch Michael's tangled hair with your fingers, starting to slowly stroke them. It's relaxing. I could swear that a long purr is coming from the chest of this giant.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba started to worry a lot when he found out about your insomnia. He begins to take care of you and shield you from stress in every possible way.

• When the Sawyers need to deal with uninvited guests, you are usually sent for a short walk with one of the brothers so that you don't worry about strong screams. Or you're just out in the backyard enjoying a warm Texas day.

• Bubba gives you a lot of hugs. Very much. At night, he does not let you out of his arms, fearing that something might happen to you. He is very attentive. A man always makes sure that when you go to bed, the room is cool and dark, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to sleep on.

• Before going to bed, you definitely take a walk in the garden. Even if he is tired, Bubba will still sit with you on the grass, admiring the stars and gently squeezing your little neat hand. He values you very much.

• Bubba will also try to give you lighter food. No hard-to-digest human meat and barbecue, just fruits and vegetables.

• By nature a gentle and simple person, Bubba will give you a mug of warm milk before going to bed. They always gave it to him when he was little, and he fell asleep quickly.

• When the two of you go to bed, Bubba cuddles you to her, making soothing sounds and mumbling like a lost puppy. He clings to you and tries to show you all his love and comfort.

• Bubba has big and strong hands. So in the evenings, about two or three times a week, he gives you a relaxing massage. Trust me, he does it like a real professional. These hardened by long years of hard work can do a lot.

• Bubba will try to talk about your problem with Drayton. Bubba really wants to help you. Even if it means you have to leave him. Bubba will try to persuade Drayton to take you to the city to see a doctor. He loves you so much, his sunshine, the man doesn't want you to suffer.

Hannibal Lecter

• You periodically had trouble sleeping, but you didn't want to bother the Lecturer with this. After all, he has enough problems of his own, besides, he is a psychiatrist and deals with the problems of his patients, he does not need to worry about you once again.

• So you thought when another sleepless night came.

• You were quietly sitting on the windowsill in the bedroom and listening to music. Hannibal, as always, lingered in the office, so you were completely immersed in your thoughts. The light melody somehow reduced the unpleasant heaviness of your head. It seems that you wanted to sleep, but at the same time, your brain did not want to turn off in any way. There was a strange emptiness inside.

• Being in your thoughts, you didn't notice how a big but gentle hand touched your shoulder. Lifting your head up, your eyes instantly met his — bottomless and dark, like thick blood. The man's eyebrows moved slightly to the bridge of his nose, and he gave you a quick glance from the bottom up.

• "Why aren't you sleeping?" His gaze slid to his wristwatch, "It's one o'clock in the morning, dear."

• The answer was only your empty, uncertain look. The man instantly connected the dots, sighing heavily. "Insomnia?" A slight nod. Hannibal gently touches your chin with his fingers, stroking the skin and leaning his forehead against yours. "You should have told me earlier, honey. I'm a psychiatrist."

• After a couple of minutes, your tired body was already peacefully resting in Hannibal's arms. He carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub and slowly starting to draw hot water. The man added a little lavender oil and a nice soft bubble bath. As soon as your body touched the cherished warmth, a blissful sigh escaped from your chest. A smile touched Hannibal's lips.

• "That's it dear. Close those beautiful eyes of yours," he almost sang in his sweet, slightly hoarse voice as he sat down on the side of the tub. He rolled up his sleeves and took some shampoo, starting to wash your hair. His movements are precise, gentle, soothing. Your eyes slowly close, as if filled with lead, and your heart begins to beat in a calmer rhythm. It was so sweet of him. This man knows exactly what he's doing. A little later, he massages your shoulders and neck, relaxing the muscles tense after long sleepless nights. The subtle scent of lavender and his firm hands created a pleasant duet in your mind, starting to slowly put you to sleep. It's as if in one moment all that stress disappeared from your soul, being replaced by a clear lack of sleep.

• "That's it, honey. Let me take care of my love."

• After a while, Hannibal will help you get out of the bath and put on clean pajamas consisting of your favorite shorts and his loose shirt. He knows that his things make you feel comfortable and safe.

• Under his careful guidance, you will slowly return to bed. Cool sheets on your hot skin after a bath now seem like a real paradise. Sleep begins to slowly take over your mind as Hannibal's arms gently wrap around your smaller body.

• "Sweet dreams, darling."

Mark Hoffman

• Mark knew well what it meant to have trouble sleeping. Because of all his work and the Designer, he was often stressed and could not sleep peacefully.

• So when he noticed you had insomnia, it really started to worry him. Not to say that Mark was a very gentle and kind partner, but he tries. Therefore, first of all, Mark will certainly take you to the doctor and use any possible method of treating your insomnia, no matter if it is a special massage or medications.

• In addition, Mark knows that, first of all, insomnia occurs against a background of great stress and excitement. Therefore, he will try to give you maximum support. A man will try to do most of the housework, not allowing you not to overwork. He will do his best to give you support, both physical and emotional.

• Every evening certainly ends with a warm hug. You know, in his big hands you will really feel loved and safe. You can sit in the living room and watch some quiet movie. Or you will just lie together in the bedroom: there is a subdued light around, the moon shines softly through the window, gently tracing his rough features with a milky white light; you lie wrapped in a soft blanket in his arms, Mark's head rests on top of your head. You can talk about the past day or just be silent, enjoying each other's company. After a while, he will begin to gently hum some kind of lullaby, from which you will wearily close your eyes. In his hands, you have nothing to worry about. He will always be with you, no matter what.

• "I promise you that it's going to be okay, we will get through this together."

• Often your evenings can end with a mug of hot herbal tea. Warm drinks are always soothing, so he can try.

• You may notice one more detail. When you try to fall asleep with him, he deliberately presses you closer to him. His shirt smells like lavender. The delicate scent of the flower pleasantly tickles your nose, causing a smile. Surprisingly, your brain calms down, you begin to feel sleepy. Mark specially bought a new lavender laundry conditioner, knowing that it could help you calm down.

• Every day he will constantly remind you how important you are to him. If he leaves for work before you, he leaves different stickers with inscriptions all over the house. On the refrigerator, on the bathroom mirror, on the bedside table. "It's not your fault you have insomnia, baby. You're important to me. I love you very much. You're doing enough. I'm proud of you." While at work, he often sends you cute messages and pictures. And although he himself is not strong in such things as romance, the fact that he sees your smile encourages him to try even harder.

• Mark buys you big stuffed animals so you have someone to cuddle with while he's at work. There are also lots of milkshakes in the fridge now, and there are different teas in the cupboard to help you relax. And although he tries not to give you a lot of sweets, he buys your favorite fruits and nuts to adjust your nutrition.

• He really cares and cares about you. Mark will try to do everything in his power to help you, dear.

#slashers x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers rz #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #mark hoffman saw #mark hoffman x reader #leatherface x reader #x reader

[justcressida]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- DEAR VİLLAİNESS

"I coped with living in that damn house for so long, then got accepted to a prestigious college, and I had gotten my own home. Even if it was cramped and dirty, I could be completely at rest in it. I had finally escaped those bastards. So why?! It's not even Normal Mode. At this rate, this is no better than before…!"

Record Of Ragnarok X Penelope Eckhart!Reader

POSEİDON

Even among all these gods, Poseidon's hatred and arrogance for humans was evident.

Yet the only reason for his interest in this human woman was her incredible will to live.

Never before had he seen a mortal act so frankly, so boldly towards a God.

It caught his attention. The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than a Goddess could ever be. She was daring. It was easy to get lost in his catlike squinting eyes and be caught in the cold but firm aura of the mortal.

"Your daring and indiscretion have limits, mortal. What do you think you are? What do you trust to utter such bold words to a god?"

The woman squinted her eyes, shining with anger. "Why should there be a limit to my audacity? What have you got to set boundaries with me? First you create a lineage and then you send them disasters and hardships. Then when you get bored, 'Let's destroy humanity!' Are you making a joke that isn't funny to yourself? Why should I obey? Why should I be good? Whose wrong is right based on? How can one expect creation to be pure when there is evil in the heart of God?"

A deep silence reigned throughout the arena, while all the immortals who had been mocking her until a few seconds ago, in silence and tension, turned their eyes to the Tyrant of the Seas and then to this noble woman.

He couldn't help but was impressed. Although what he really needed to do was slit her throat with his trident and punish her disrespect, a wild instinct whispered that he shouldn't punish her in this way. Punish in a different way.

The Tyrant of the Seas' lips curved slightly as the tense wait continued. "Will you stand by what you say, mortal? If you kneel right now and apologize and beg, I won't punish you." Although his tone was calm, his gaze made everyone shudder.

"Y/N! Apologize!" As Reynold screamed, Derrick grabbed his arms and pulled him back. As the beautiful woman's eyes turned towards that direction, her eyes narrowed like a cat.

"It's not worth it, Reynold." Derrick's cold words echoed throughout the arena. The woman smiled sarcastically, after all she got used to it. It didn't hurt anymore.

"I'd rather die." Their eyes met. It was like the gaze of the sky and the ocean.

"You asked for it, mortal."

Thus began your life in prison. It was more of a fait accompli than a mistreatment.

Every day you were dressed like a doll and did whatever Poseidon wanted.

You could have dinner with him if he wanted.

If he wanted, you would go to the meeting of the Gods with him.

Everything was his order, if he didn't want it, you couldn't even breathe.

You'd still rather get beaten.

Yet all you gave in regards to your feelings was your hatred of the open ocean.

"Don't make me angry and come here mortal."

"I don't want."

"I didn't ask if you wanted it. Come with me, if you're afraid I'll keep it."

"No way. I won't." Poseidon looked at the beautiful mortal as the woman shrugged stubbornly.

"It's pointless mortal that you hate the ocean so much." He didn't want to ask directly why.

She looked thoughtfully into the water as she shrugged.

"Tell me the reason for this hatred of the ocean, mortal."

"Water plays with you, water imprisons you, water makes you crazy, and the insane cannot live in society. The water overflows."

Poseidon wanted to deny it, but mortal was right. That's how he summed up his thousands of years of life.

"Let's go inside, mortal. Don't be cold."

The Tyrant of the Seas sighs as he walks ashore.

Perhaps he could leave the mortal a little to himself.

Of course he wasn't forgiven.

For now, at least, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

"You are so ugly."

"You're being disrespectful again, mortal.

"But are you ugly?"

"Shut up and get in, damn mortal."

#ror x reader #snv x reader #poseidon x reader #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 5/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, soft Ben, injured Reader

Word Count: 3117

A/N: This is part 5 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

After a few minutes, Ben finally had control of himself again. Looking around, he saw the chaos he had caused. "Fuck!", he cursed loudly before looking out for you. For a second the thought that he had killed you overwhelmed him. However, when he heard your weak heartbeat, he immediately ran towards you.

Ben was more than surprised that he had lost control. Of course he wasn't happy at all about what he had just saw. About the fact that you had made such a scene for him last night, but let yourself be touched by that fuckface. Still, he had absolutely not expected such a reaction from himself. What have you done to him?

It all started when he first saw you at Supe Affairs. He knew even then that he wanted you. He had to have you. You were the only reason he came back to Butcher's team, why he didn't blow up all the cocksuckers. When he finally got Butcher to let you join his team and you met him for the first time, his urge to make you his own only grew stronger. He would never forget how you stood in front of him back then. How you started to stutter as he walked up to you and held out his hand to introduce himself, something he didn't do with any of the others. How you bit your bottom lip as your sparkling eyes looked up at him. You barely reached his chest, you were so delicate that he was afraid of breaking you the first time a mission became dangerous and he had to push you out of the way to save you.

However, as you slowly got used to everyone, especially Ben himself, and started showing your true self, he couldn't cope anymore. You had way too big a mouth and absolutely no problem expressing and justifying your opinion until the other person gave up. You were damn smart, able to articulate yourself properly and had the ability to convince anyone without even trying. And fuck, you were cheeky. He liked that most. Your sassy retorts when Butcher approaches you and your snarky comments to Frenchie's nonsensical ideas. He just liked you. And more importantly, he respected you. And that meant more to Soldier Boy than anything else. Even if someone held a gun to your head, you stuck to your fucking attitude. Many might have described you as stubborn, but for Ben it meant being strong and staying true and loyal to the end. Even though you were human. Even though you were just a fucking woman. For him, the weakest creature in the world. He respected you.

From the first moment he had a connection with you that he couldn't explain to himself. And this connection grew stronger hour by hour, day by day. Until yesterday when he finally lost his self-control.

When Ben saw you in the rubble of the bar, he almost felt guilty. As carefully as he could, he picked you up from the ground and held you lightly to his chest. You were unconscious. Your legs and arms hung limply from your body as he carried you to the car.

“I got you”, he murmured.

At that moment he didn't care about anything. He didn't care that he screwed up the plan, he didn't care that the deep escaped, he just wanted you to be okay.

While he held you with one hand, he used the other to push the seat into a reclining position before placing you on it. For a moment he just looked at you. Your face and body were covered in dust and small scratches, your sprained wrist was definitely broken now, as were some of your ribs. He was sure that despite your injuries and pain, you would insult him, scream at him or even be mad at him. That was the last thing he wanted. Ben didn't want to hurt you in any way, and yet he did. It was unintentional, but unfortunately it didn't change the end result.

Ben got behind the wheel, started the car and drove to your apartment. He knew your life wasn't in danger because he heard that all of your organs were functioning normally. You had hardly lost any blood either.It seemed like the force of the explosion had thrown you too hard against a wall.

After a while you started to move. “Ben?”, your voice was weak and you were more than disoriented. “Yeah?". His large, heavy hand found its way to your thigh, where it lingered as his thumb repeatedly stroked up and down your soft skin. You blinked a few times before looking at Ben, who was watching you with a blank expression, even though he was still driving.

“Ugh…my head hurts”, you grumbled, narrowing your eyes. "What…what happened? Why did you blew up?".

Ben just took a deep breath and looked back at the road before removing his hand from your thigh. A familiar silence filled the car, broken only by your panting as you tried to sit up.

“Don´t fucking move. You probably broke a rib or two".

"Yeah, it feels like that".

You didn't exchange another word the entire drive home. Instead, you kept looking at each other, trying to read each other's minds, but even more wanting to make sure the other was okay. He wanted to make sure you didn't suffer any more serious injuries while you kept an eye on Ben for fear he might explode again.

After almost half an hour, Ben parked the car in front of the apartment. As Ben unbuckled himself, you spoke up. "I thought you had it under control?". No answer. Ben stood up, walked around the car and picked you up before you tried any longer to somehow get out of the car. As he carried you in like a bride, you looked at him from below.

"Don't look at me like that", he grumbled, his voice deeper and rougher than before.

Just as Ben was placing you down on the living room couch, Butcher stormed in with Hughie.

“I almost had him!”, Butcher shouted, ripping off his jacket and carelessly throwing it towards the armchair.

“Almost had it? Are you kidding me?! If I hadn't pushed you away, you would have been cut in half by now!", Hughie scolded back before spotting you and Ben.

"What happened?", he immediately asked in shock, walking towards you. "Fucking perfect! So, no Homelander and no fucking Fishcunt either", Butcher raised his hand, waved off and went into the kitchen to get a beer.

A soft, pained groan escaped you as you slowly sat up. While Hughie's worried gaze was on you, Butcher stared at Ben from the kitchen as he sipped his beer. “The plan didn’t quite work”, you mumbled, but as you answered, you continued to stare at Ben, who maintained your eye contact before straightening up. “She’s fine”, Ben commented. “I'm going to take a shower”, he added and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Oi, what happened?”, Butcher joined you and Hughie and held out a beer to both of you.

“Kevin knew all too quickly that something was off. As he and Ben were fighting, I somehow got in the way”, you lied, looking at your broken wrist. “And the cunt won or what?”, Butcher asked incredulously. “No, but… Ben helped me and Kevin was able to escape”, you mumbled. “Well fucking shit”, Butcher cursed. “Hopefully MM and the others had better luck”.

Butcher didn’t believe a single word you said, but he was still too angry at Hughie and himself to pursue your lies any further.

“You really should see a doctor (y/n)”, Hughie took your injured wrist. “You need a ride?”.

You just shook your head in response. Your nerves were on edge and all you wanted to do was to hide under the covers. "It's not that bad… I… should sleep, my head is buzzing and everything hurts… wake me up when there's news from the others, okay?". Hughie narrowed his eyes briefly before he sighed. “Lie down in my room. At least you’ll have some peace and quiet”. You nodded gratefully at him before disappearing into Hughie’s room.

The next time you opened your eyes it was pitch black. You sat up sluggishly and weakly and took slow steps towards the living room. You feel like you're being run over. Your forehead was beaming, your face was red and your eyes were glassy as you saw Ben on the sofa with a bottle of whiskey. "Where are the others?", You asked quietly, leaning on the armrest of the sofa. "They have A-Train. Trying to get something out of him", he grumbled, still looking at the television. Your legs started shaking and your vision blurred. It felt like your body was burning. “Ben, I think…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you collapsed. Ben's quick reaction prevented you from hitting the floor. “Alright, I got you drama queen”, Ben murmured as he caught you.

“Hey, (y/n)”, he tried to wake you up by lightly slapping your cheek a few times

However, when Ben heard your weakening heartbeat, he actually became slightly nervous. He focused on you and your body. A few seconds passed before he heard blood running down inside your upper body.

"Fuck", he cursed loudly. While you were already unconscious, Ben thought about what to do. He fought with himself for a bit, but he knew that no matter what he decided, time was running out.

“It’ll either kill you or it’ll help you”, Ben muttered to himself before taking Butcher’s injection kit and pushed you onto the couch with him.

By now it was a race against time. One of your broken ribs must have punctured your organs and the fact that you were still alive was a miracle.

Ben was sure you wouldn't survive an operation, let alone the drive to a hospital.

As your breathing and heartbeat grew weaker, Ben cut his wrist and collected the blood that dripped from the cut in a mug. Due to his fast healing, it took a few tries before he had enough blood. “Come on (y/n). You can do that”, he whispered hastily, pulling your almost lifeless body onto his lap and sucking up its blood with a syringe. Without further ado, Ben tore your shirt off your body and felt your vena cava with his fingertips. When he felt the strong pulsation, he positioned the tip and hoped for the best as he pushed the needle through your soft skin and pumped his blood into your bloodstream.

If Ben hadn't been so focused on you, he might not have missed how hard his own heart was racing as he waited for his blood to take effect.

“C´mon, Sweetheart”, Ben almost whispered as he held you in his arms, stroking your cheek with his blood-stained fingers. If you died now, it would be his fault. Your life would be over because he would have lost self-control.

He bit his lip nervously, his eyes glued to your face. No one should ever see him like that. He was afraid. Afraid for a small, weak human. Afraid for a fucking woman. What did you do to him to make him soft enough to care about you? To care about anything than himself.

He knew he had to put an end to it all. Soldier Boy couldn't be vulnerable. He couldn't have any weak spot at all.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, you suddenly jumped violently, inhaled sharply, and sat upright on Ben's thigh. Your eyes were big and sparkled blue for a few seconds. Shocked and overwhelmed, you rubbed your chest where you felt a strong tugging sensation. Only then did you notice that you no longer had a shirt on. “What the…” you breathed, confused. Your hand slid to your temple, which was throbbing like it was about to explode.

“How you feeling?", Ben looked at you from the side, his eyebrows furrowed. One of his arms was still around your waist. He was just relieved that you were still breathing.

“I…I think”, you started, but the pulsing of your heart interrupted you. The voices on the TV, Ben's breathing, the sound of his thumb stroking your thigh - it all overstained your thoughts. You pressed your palms against your ears, your face contorted in pain. "Make it stop", you begged. With each beg your voice became shriller, more and more tears ran down your cheeks while Ben looked at you disturbed.

“What should I stop?”.

“The noises!”.

The realization was written all over Ben's face. He looked around, wondering how he should help you, before finally knocking you out with a well-aimed blow to the temple.

“Sleep well, sweetheart”, he chuckled, sliding you onto the sofa so only your head was on his lap and pulling the blanket over you. You had some side effects, but that was probably part of becoming a supe this way.

24 hours.

You were asleep until you were rudely awakened by the sweet roar of Butcher and Soldier Boy.

"I didn't fucking kill her!", Ben growled angrily. “It’s been 24 hours! And (y/n) looks absolutely anything but alive!”, Butcher bitched back.

When the rest of the team came home yesterday and Ben told what he had to do, none of the others believed that he really wanted to save you with his half-hearted and hasty action, but he couldn't admit what he had felt in that moment. Not to himself and especially not to Butcher and the rest of the gang.

“I know what your bloody plan is. You've wanted to make her a supe since you first saw her. You think she would be looser and easier then. That she finally lets you into her panties. But I can promise you mate, it won’t work on (y/n)”, Butcher hissed. Ben laughed bitterly and derogatory. “You’re fucking delusional”.

Ben paused for a moment. Unfortunately, Butcher had a point. It would really be an advantage if you were no longer human. No longer easily breakable. But those weren't the reasons why Ben gave you his blood. Not at that moment.

“She would be dead if I hadn’t given her my fucking blood”, Ben insisted.

“Why the hell was she even hurt in the first place? I assigned her specifically to you because I thought if anyone could protect her, it would be America’s ex-golden boy!”.

“You fucking going to start this again?”, Soldier Boy approached Butcher threateningly and stood in front of him. The two of them were so busy measuring the length of their cocks that they didn't notice you slowly sitting up in Soldier Boy's bed. You could hear everything, but it took a while for not only your head but also your body to come back alive.

“Well, that’s a lot of testosterone for a small country like this”, you whispered in a husky voice, catching the attention of the two alpha monkeys.

“Oi, you’re alive. What a damn nice surprise”.

Even though Butcher was talking to you, half-heartedly asking about your well-being, your eyes were on Ben. It still felt like your brain was swimming in your head, so you attributed the tightness in your chest you felt as you looked at Ben to the side effects of… whatever.

“I’m feeling much better, thanks”, you murmured, continuing to maintain eye contact with Ben.

"What happened? Like… after the mission went terribly wrong".

As Ben lowered his head slightly to look away from you, you looked around the room. You were in Ben's room.

"Well, young lady, the twisted Dracula here can tell you", Butcher clapped Ben's shoulders from behind with both hands before leaving the room without another word, knowing full well that if his hands touched Soldier Boy two more seconds, he would have literally ripped his head off.

“Ben?”, you whispered after a few minutes of silence.

He heard your heartbeat and his switch turned.

"You fainted. I gave you my blood. You're alive”. His voice was as monotonous as his facial expression. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before asking. "What do you mean fainted and you gave me your… blood?“.

Ben rolled his eyes dramatically as always. He was so annoyed with this world today and the fact that everyone was so slow to understand anything or always had to question everything.

“You’re not that fucking stupid, are you? Do I really have to explain every little thing to you now?.

Your look probably said more than a thousand words as Ben groaned in annoyance, crossed his arms and explained to you exactly what had happened.

“I injected you my blood to prevent you from dying. Apparently, it worked. You're still breathing", he shrugged.

"Wait. You didn't know if this would work? Are you kidding me?”.

“Do you think one of my hobbies is to distribute my blood like a sperm donor? The last time I provided my DNA to someone, they bred this fucking son of a bitch. So, no. I didn't know if it would work. And yet, I saved your fucking life! How about a fucking thank you?!”, Ben hissed and took a few steps towards you.

“Did you miss the fact that I broke my ribs just because of you?”, you replied, now also with your arms crossed.

You stood facing each other. So close you could feel the warmth radiating from his chest.

“Why did you lose control in the bar?”. You wanted an answer more than anything.

Ben knew the answer to your question. It was on the tip of his tongue. But he knew it wouldn't change anything. And even if…then what? You thought so poorly of him that you didn't even wanted to kiss him. You were so disgusted with him that you never wanted him to touch you. What on fucking earth would make you let him call you his own?

“Uhhh, there's a lot of tension here, mes chéris. You should definitely talk to each other…naked is best”, Frenchie chuckled as he came in to check you were okay.

———————————

A/N: I'm not a supe-doc, so I had to get creative😅

Hmmm, what could happen in the next chapter? Probably not what you expect 🫣

Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 6

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #spn #billy butcher #hughie campbell #the boys hughie #frenchie #soft

[awearywritersworld]

everything i was looking for

nanami kento x reader summary: when nanami became a salaryman, jujutsu wasn't the only thing he left behind. four years later, he's got his job back and he wants you back too. w/c: 1.5k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. hurt/comfort. gender neutral reader. reader's hair is long enough for nanami to tuck behind their ear. cursing. a/n: it's about time i wrote something for this man. we get to see baby nanami animated soon:') masterlist

"he left, (y/n)."

you laughed apprehensively at gojo's words, though the expression on his face was anything but amused. honestly, it might have been the first time you'd ever seen the boy wear a serious expression and it made you nervous.

"well when is he coming back?"

a look of pity crossed his features as he searched for the right words, but that itself was enough for you to understand the situation.

"so what?" you scoffed in disbelief. "he's just gone?"

gojo nodded. "he asked me to tell you."

you tried to speak, but you could feel your throat tightening as your body flooded with panic. you needed to reach your dorm before the weight of the situation hit you in its entirety. "o-okay. i'll see you later, gojo."

~~~

though it seemed like a lifetime had past since that afternoon, it'd been only four years. you spent each of them attempting to move on from nanami, but you were beginning to think that it may never happen.

he still appeared in your dreams and some nights, it was like nothing changed. you're eating lunch together in the shade, or you've snuck off to the forest to lay in one another's arms.

other nights were much different, a time spent plagued by his disappearance. you'd be stuck in the first few days of his absence, your only saving grace the coolness of your old dorm's bathroom tile.

it was after a night like the latter that you first heard the former salaryman intended to return, and at once, you resolved to spend the rest of your life hiding away from him and everyone else on the jujutsu campus. that was healthy and realistic, right?

you were successful for nearly a week, but luck would not stay on your side forever.

~~~

when nanami approached the school after completing his first mission back, there was a chill in the air and the moon was already setting. he carried on rather slowly, not quite ready to submit to sleep despite the lateness of the hour. his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by the time he reached the familiar paths of his youth.

still, he almost missed your silhouette tucked away near the edge of the forest, your back toward him and your face tilted up at the sky. he could barely make you out, but even then, he was sure it was you.

nanami began moving in your direction, his footsteps drown out by the trill of crickets. he stopped short of where you sat because despite the fact he'd been wanting to see you since he arrived, he was hesitant to disturb you now.

he asked gojo about you and was promptly told to give you some space and time. you didn't see what they were like when you left. the warning had been rattling around his head ever since.

"hey," you greeted without moving, having sensed his presence for some time already. you were resigned to your fate, accepting that you couldn't avoid him forever.

nanami didn't answer right away, struggling to get a read on your mood when it used to be so easy. his feet carried him closer and while he was finally beside you after all these years, the space between you felt immeasurable.

"hey," he returned, settling on the ground to your right, near enough that if he reached out he could touch you.

observing your features, he could tell how much you'd changed, but god you still looked so beautiful. that didn't change the fact that you'd hardened somehow. it was written all over your face and he suddenly found it difficult to cope with the fact he hadn't been there for you the past few years.

"you're back."

nanami reached up to loosen his tie, the fact that you hadn't spared him a glance evoking his nerves. "and you're still here."

"i never doubted that i was supposed to be," you spoke sharply.

he fought back a sigh, one that was directed only at himself, while you regarded his silence as a bit grating. maybe it was because you no longer felt comfortable in it. he'd always been quiet and you were used to that, but things were different now.

"i should go."

and he let you, for the first few meters anyway.

"wait," he eventually called out, scrambling off the ground. "d-don't walk away."

you laughed in disbelief, still taking strides in the opposite direction. "you can't be serious."

"please, (y/n)." his tone was one of desperation.

"no!" you stopped in your tracks and he was taken back by the volume of your voice. you finally turned to face him, fists clenched at your sides. "i may be walking away, but you're the one who left."

chest heaving with indignation, you took in his appearance for the first time.

he stood much taller and his body was a bit wider. your eyes lingered on his hair, now much shorter and neatly pushed back out of his face. you felt betrayed by the way it made your stomach stir.

"i'm sorry, just let me-" he began, taking a step toward you.

"stay back," you spit venomously. "you... you don't get to ask me to stay and you don't get to tell me you're sorry when you didn't even let me say goodbye!"

your voice cracked, causing nanami's knees to buckle under the pressure of his own guilt. he tried to get closer to you and this time you stayed completely still, preoccupied with a sad attempt at holding yourself together. when he was near enough, he reached out and let his fingers graze your arm.

"please don't," you begged.

he whispered your name, his voice thick with emotion, and that was all it took for your walls to come crumbling down. the sound of your cries shattered whatever remained of nanami's heart, though he'd left most of it behind all those years ago.

his arms acted on their own accord when they pulled you against his body, one hand holding your head to his chest, the other wrapped around your torso. he still smelled the same.

"no, please," you wept. "i can't do it again."

you beat weakly against his chest, but it was no use. he held you against himself tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head when he spoke.

"it's okay. i'm here," he tried to comfort you.

your voice sounded so small when you gathered the strength to reply. "please don't do this to me, ken."

nanami wondered for a moment if this was wrong, if he should have left you alone or just never have come back at all. the thought was fleeting though. he knew he had to make this right.

"i left because i was trying to find purpose through my work and... i... i couldn't see you because i knew you were the only person who could've convinced me to stay. i didn't see how wrong that was back then."

he heard you sniffle and let out a shaky breath, so he pulled away just enough to gather your face in his hands, your hair lacing through his fingers. you held one another's gaze and somehow it was the most content either of you had been in a long time.

"i'm sorry," he professed earnestly, looking down at you with regretful eyes.

"it's- it's okay." the words tumbled passed your lips before you could stop them.

"no, it's not. but i hope you'll give me a chance to make it up to you. to make it better."

you nodded almost imperceptibly, but other than that, neither of you moved. a breeze swept between the two of you and nanami tucked a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.

it was strange, perhaps even a bit unfair, that after so much time, after everything he'd done, there was no where you'd rather be than here with him. your hands found their way to his chest, the space there broader than it used to be.

"i love you," he murmured.

terrified you wouldn't say it back, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was slow but not without fervency and the small noise that escaped his throat had you pulling him closer.

it was intoxicating to him, the way you felt against him, the softness of your lips, and the warmth that emanated from your skin.

even so, everything about him was impossibly gentle. nanami pulled away first, scanning your face for any hint of dismay.

"i love you, ken."

feelings of relief and responsibility overwhelmed him in tandem. he'd thought about you saying those words every day for four years and he knew he didn't deserve to hear them now. not yet.

nonetheless, you found yourself enveloped in his arms once more as he pressed a kiss to your head.

"everything i was looking for... i had it here with you all along."

#m!writes #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento imagines #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

[vikkirosko]

Hi, new anon here! Could I get some headcanons for what Fizzarolli, Beelzebub, Alastor or Husk would do if their S/O had to go to the dentist or anything similar? How they take care of their S/O?

Welcome~

Headcanons Dentist

📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙

Alastor has always been attentive to others, including you. He noticed when you started to feel uncomfortable with meals and realized pretty quickly that the reason for this was a toothache. He watched for several days as you tried to ignore this pain, but eventually decided to intervene, realizing that at this rate you will never get rid of toothache

Alastor asked you what happened, not rushing to say that he knew about your toothache. You said you had a little toothache, but at the same time you claimed that it would pass soon and there was no need to worry about it. After your words, Alastor laughed and said that you should go to the dentist, because if your teeth hurt, you won't be able to smile. You didn't want to argue with Alastor, so you agreed to go to the doctor, even though you couldn't hide your concern

You were gone for several hours, which even surprised Alastor. He didn't think you could have a problem that would take so long to solve, but you finally came back. When Alastor came up to you, you held out your palm to him, on which lay a pulled tooth, because of which you felt pain

Alastor understood that you were afraid of dentists, but the fact that you were able to cope with your fear at least when it was really needed. He was pleased that you could smile again without suffering pain and eat calmly, enjoying your favorite food

🃏 Husk x Reader 🥃

Husk realized that something was wrong with you when he saw you drinking a cocktail that he had prepared for you. There was a lot of ice and you almost dropped your glass when you drank a little, as if you were in pain. He asked if you were okay, to which you replied sheepishly that you just had a little toothache and that there was nothing serious about it. He tried to ignore it for a few days, but he kept seeing that you had a toothache. But when you tried to eat and screamed in pain, Husk told you straight out that you needed to go to the dentist

Husk wasn't going to leave you alone until you went to the dentist. You knew yourself that you needed it, but you were very worried. He told you several times that everything would be fine and it had its effect. You went to the dentist, asking Husk to remember only the best about you if you didn't come back. He didn't understand why you reacted like that to going to the dentist, but Husk was sure that everything would be fine

You've been gone for hours. Husk started to worry about this, he didn't expect your visit to the dentist to be so long, but you finally came back. You smiled at Husk with a winning smile, which made it clear to him that your visit to the dentist was a success

You didn't say why you were so afraid to go to the dentist, and Husk didn't ask you about it. He was just pleased that your tooth wasn't bothering you anymore. He didn't like the fact that you were in pain, and now that it was over, he could breathe easy

🐝 Beelzebub x Reader 🍯

Beelzebub has always been attentive to you, so I quickly noticed that when you eat together, you could wince as if you were in pain. She was worried about your health and asked if everything was okay. You confusedly told her that you had a toothache and that it hurt you to chew one half of your jaw. Bee was worried about you, so she suggested you go to a good dentist

You were very worried about going to the doctor, but Bee convinced you that everything would be fine. She wasn't going to send you to an untrustworthy doctor, so she signed you up for a dentist she visited herself. She even suggested that you go together since you were so worried about the upcoming doctor's visit

The private dental clinic where you and Beelzebub came to welcomed you with cordiality. Bee promised you that everything would be fine and that she would be waiting for you in the hallway while you were at the dentist's appointment. If she could, she would have stayed with you in the doctor's office, but she had to stay in the hallway

When you left the office, you could breathe a sigh of relief. The dentist fixed your tooth, and all that remained was to wait a couple of hours before you could chew normally again. She was glad that you were healthy again and that the problem with your tooth was not as serious as you both feared

🎪 Fizzarolli x Reader 💟

You've been very nervous the last few days, and it didn't escape Fizzarolli's gaze. He was worried that you were in trouble, so he asked what happened. As it turned out, the reason you were so nervous was that very soon you had to go to a dentist appointment. You were afraid to imagine what it would be like to work as a dentist in Hell, that's why you were so afraid and worried

Fizz understood that for you who have never encountered medicine in Hell, so he offered to go with you. You agreed right away, thanks to him. He quickly realized that you were very scared and his offer was practically a salvation for you. On the day of your visit to the doctor, you went to the hospital together. You made him promise that if something bad happened, he would immediately come to your aid

Fizzarolli was waiting for you in the hallway while you were at the doctor's appointment. He was perfectly aware of other people's eyes on him, but he kept waiting for you. He wasn't going to leave you, because he didn't want you to feel betrayed if you walked out of the doctor's office and found that he wasn't there

When you left the office, Fizz hurried to you, asking if you were okay. You nodded, smiling with relief. You were able to get off with a slight fright and no dental problems were found, so you could safely leave. Fizzarolli didn't know why you were so afraid of dentists, but he was ready to go with you if you needed to see a doctor again

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss x Reader #Fizzarolli #Fizzarolli x Reader #Beelzebub #Beelzebub x Reader

[huevobuevo]

ive fuckingggg HAD IT . i am going to talk about gegg qsmp because idk why but charlie slimecicle made one of the best representations of age regression ive seen in media and i am NOT joking.

so i dont rlly post alot about the qsmp on my blog, thus i wouldn't be surprised if this post goes unnoticed or ignored by a vast majority of my friends & followers. for those of you who ARE reading this with no prior experience with the QSMP lemme just quickly summarize some much needed background knowledge.

(Quackity Voice) The QSMP Is The Worlds First Multi-lingual Minecraft Server; it hosts a wide variety of twitch streamers who speak English, Spanish, Portuguese, and French. the beginning plotline of the server (which is where Gegg came into existence) follows the various players as they are grouped into pairs to care for a dragon egg. The main ones that will be talked about today are Tilin, Quackity's egg, and Juanaflippa, Slimecicle & ElMariana's egg. The eggs are, of course, played by anonymous admins, who have given these eggs their own unique personalitys despite only communicating through signs and emotes. The players have quickly imprinted on their respective eggs, as expected, and have gone on to view these eggs as their own children. The rules were simple - each egg had two lives and two lives ONLY. each day the eggs have tasks for the streamers to complete ON STREAM or else the egg could die of starvation & neglect (points at Trump, Maximus & DanTDM's egg).

i will be referring to Slimecicles character in the QSMP as Charlie or Slime for better coherency. from now on i will be referring to the characters, not the streamers.

Slimecicle and Mariana were not the best parents to Juanaflippa, but it was clear that they truly and deeply cared for their daughter. They supported her transition and, especially in Slimes case, did everything they could to make sure their daughter was safe. Juanaflippa had lost her second life due to an accident, which caused Slime to loose his shit and go on a murderous rampage to try and get the literal Minecraft Jesus Christ of Nazareth to come back and revive his daughter (she came back after a court case. long story.)

Basically Juanaflippa was loved, and she loved her parents back- but there was someone else she cared for the most in the whole wide world

Tilin, who Slime offered to take care of once her father had to log off game. There was another accident, and Tilin was caught in the crossfire between Charlie and a few mobs at night. She was on her second life, meaning that Charlie had officially ended his daughters best friend right infront of her eyes. Distraught and ashamed, Charlie ran off into self-isolation and left Juanaflippa in the care of Mariana and their friend Roier. During his "Eggxile" while he was trying to find a way to bring back Tilin, Charlie learnt that Mariana killed Juanaflippa AGAIN. Instead of going on another tirade Charlie just lost it.

He's now carrying the deaths of two children on his mind, isolating himself from what little friends he had on the main island. During his initial stay on the island there were only English and Spanish players, but when the French and Brazilian players arrived he still spent a majority of his time in isolation. Charlie wasn't apart of a good chunk of the main island lore for a long, long time, and pretty soon it began to feel like he was completely, and utterly, alone. He attended a wedding and a few parties, but it was visible how outcasted he was from all the new events and connections. He had regular breakdowns and pretty soon began to believe that Juanaflippa wasn't dead, she was just... somewhere else. He was gonna get her back. He did it once, he'll do it again. Fuck, he couldn't even bring himself to attend her own funeral, and even when he was allowed one final goodbye with his dead daughter Charlie still refused to accept the fact that Juanaflippa was never gonna come back home. He built a campfire on the beach of his Eggxile house with three chairs- one for him, one for his wife (who hadn't logged on in months), and one for Flippa.

TL;DR q!slime is going the fuck through it.

Later on Quackity decided to get Charlie in on a plan to try and steal from other peoples houses. They both lost their families, so it seemed only fair to Quackity that they ruin other people's lives as well. Basically Charlie had to pretend to be Quackity's NEW egg so that he can get close with the other eggs and fuck shit up.

Charlie liked it. Charlie... REALLY liked it, actually. His egg name was Gegg, and without knowing it he began to age regress.

Im calling Gegg a form of Age Regression because not only is Charlie mentally AND physically becoming a child, but through Gegg Charlie is allowed the freedom to escape his grief and explore what it means to be a "child" who was loved unconditionally. On the last Gegg stream Slime referred to the little goopy guy as something that lives inside of him. Gegg takes over him and he just looses himself in the act. He's not just playing a character called Gegg, he IS Gegg.

In the very first stream as Gegg he expressed his desire to learn what having a family was like- a common reason most people have for regressing. When "regressed" to this state Charlie/Gegg is constantly acting as a young child and actually enjoys it! He LOVED being Gegg! Even if it got too far in the end, Gegg was allowed to be open about his wants & emotions. Charlie was pushed back into the lives of the other players and fully reconnected with several people again for the first time since his self-imposed isolation. He gained new friends, too, once Gegg was introduced to the Brazilian and French players.

In turn the players never made any effort to expose Charlie's regression. while at the beginning there was some distrust & confusion over Charlie's sudden egg act it never went farther then a few subtle jokes at Geggs "true" identity (commenting on his backflips, which is something Charlie was known for). Aside from Wilbur, everybody treated Gegg as any other egg-child. He was cared for, his tasks would be completed on occasion, and the French+Brazilian players ESPECIALLY loved him! They supported Charlie's regression since at this point they began to realize how much shit he has been through since the deaths of Tilin and Flippa. Not only that, but the eggs as well played along with Gegg's coping mechanism; Leonarda (FoolishGamers + Vegetta777's egg) was one of the first to try and adopt Gegg as their own baby, while Chayanne (Philza+MissaSinfonia's egg) & Tallulah (Wilbur Soot's egg) acted as his "Geggsiblings" (even though Tallulah sorta got a bit rude to him during their second encounter, im guessing due to a new admin who wasn't around during Tallulah & Gegg's first interaction),

Infact, one of the best scenes of the Gegg Arc was during an interaction between Gegg & Bobby. Bobby was Roier & JaidenAnimation's egg, and he was also close to Juanaflippa & Tilin. The two kids talked through signs, where Bobby confessed that he held a grudge against Slime for what he did. Gegg said that he had every right to be upset, the poor boy had lost two of his closest friends after all. But then Bobby did something that shocked Charlie- he forgave him. he told Gegg to tell that "green guy" that he shouldn't be hard on himself anymore, both of them needed to move on already. Not only was Bobby a child, but he was one of the main eggs Quackity wanted Gegg to kill off first. Bobby was the reason why Gegg existed, the reason why Charlie was given the chance to heal from his trauma, and now he is telling Charlie to his face that its ok to forgive himself for the deaths of Tilin and Flippa.

Bobby knows who Gegg is, everybody does, which is why they treat Gegg with the same amount of love that every other egg gets.

Age Regression has frequently been misunderstood, and very rarely does it get the proper representation that it deserves. It is a very "taboo" form of coping, which is unfortunate due to how common it actually is. Most people feel uncomfortable with the image of grown adults acting as toddlers in diapers, and lump it together with the whole Age Play/DDLG ordeal- yet they fail to take into account what age regressors are ACTUALLY like. while it is something that just about anyone can do, the type of regression I will be talking about stems from people who seek refuge from traumatic events usually in their childhood. It can be voluntary or involuntary, and is a way for people to explore & reevaluate what it means to be a child. it is just that- a trauma response, one that im sure many of you participate in but are too scared to discuss it due to the stigma around it. Children who have experienced abuse regress, Teenagers who struggle with mental health regress, Adults with severe PTSD regress, and yet it is such a misunderstood part of the healing process that is practically unaccounted for in media. There is little to nothing on age regression representation that delivers it in a respectful, honest manner, due to this stigma, which only serves to push it further into the shadows of mental health discourse.

So to see age regression be used on a fucking minecraft server of all places in such a healthy light is so refreshing to see. While ironic at first, Charlie showcased age regression as something that shouldn't be shunned. It actively aided him through a dark period in his life and showed that he deserves a second chance. After Gegg canonically "died" Charlie returned to the island for his birthday and was finally ready to move on from Flippa & Tilins death (and then, yakno, the whole Codeflippa Arc happened)

TL;DR #2 Charlie Slimecicle's Character In The QSMP Age Regresses As A Way To Cope From The Deaths Of Two Eggs & Oh My God It Was Actually Really Fucking Emotional

#thanks for reading again hoooly fuck #slimecicle #q!slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #q!charlie #qsmp #gegg #qsmp gegg #gegg qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp charlie slimecicle #there will be a cold day in hell if i dont properly tag my fucking posts

[svltzmans]

out of the woods - h.m.

a/n: i'm back with longer fics again! i was in a bit of a dry spell with inspiration but i'm finally getting back to it! you might be asking "lizzie will you ever stop naming your stories after taylor swift songs?" and the answer is no ❤️

warnings: smut (18+), kinda angsty? but not really, hope has her humanity off for a bit and her and reader are exes (but not for long), this is very very soft and the smut is pretty tame lmao, i didn't edit this at all

"you're just not the person i fell in love with anymore."

the moment y/n broke up with hope was still a blur. hope's humanity shutdown was rough on everyone involved, but she never would have expected losing the love of her life over it.

at the same time, she understood. now that she had her humanity on, she realized how coldhearted she had become and the way she treated y/n reflected her lack of sympathy.

it hadn't took long for hope to realize that she had made a huge mistake. sure, she had little control over the way she acted when her humanity was off. regardless, she still mistreated y/n and lost her in the process.

y/n knew that she loved hope, and she was sure that she could cope with her supernatural qualities, including her occasional lack of humanity.

however, y/n quickly realized having humanity-less hope as a girlfriend was harder than she had imagined.

any kind of affection from her girlfriend was almost entirely out of the question. it felt like the person she loved had disappeared, and it was too much to handle.

ever since the breakup, hope had been determined to win y/n back. she understood that the trust between them had diminished and it would be hard to show y/n that her recent behavior was behind her.

y/n was apprehensive when she interacted with hope. she wasn't cold, but she certainly wasn't warm either. she just didn't believe that hope truly had turned her humanity back on, knowing that a vampire with their humanity off could be beyond tricky and manipulative.

a major part of her believed that hope would never do anything to hurt her, humanity or not, but she just couldn't take that risk.

hope had tried to open up to y/n about her humanity and tell her that she was truly back, but y/n would just brush her off.

"i just need more time," she would say, and hope would solemnly nod in understanding.

eventually, hope couldn't cope with y/n's indifference any longer.

"y/n, please just talk to me."

y/n finally agrees to sit down with hope, avoiding eye contact with her ex-girlfriend.

"please look at me, y/n. i miss you so much. i know i was awful to you."

y/n reluctantly looks up, locking eyes with hope.

"how do i know it's really you, hope? how can i believe you?"

hope can't help but feel hurt by y/n's lack of trust, but she knows she would feel the same way if she was in y/n's position.

"i've spent every minute of every day thinking about you, y/n. you are everything to me and it kills me that i hurt you so badly. i wasn't myself and i know that's not an excuse. but god y/n, i miss you so much. and i'm so sorry."

y/n softens at hope's words, realizing that she was being genuine.

"i miss you too. and i'm sorry for blowing you off. i guess i was just scared. i know you wouldn't hurt me. i just couldn't bring myself to talk, i didn't know if you were actually back or not."

"i'm here, y/n. and i'm never going away again."

hope tentatively brings her face closer to y/n's, waiting for a reaction.

when she doesn't get one, she presses her lips to y/n's.

when hope finally pulls away after what feels like an eternity, y/n wraps her arms around her tightly.

"i'm so glad you're here, hope. really here. i missed you."

hope melts into y/n's arms, allowing her head to rest on her shoulder.

"hope?"

"yeah?"

"be mine again. please."

hope doesn't respond, opting to kiss y/n again instead.

hope is gentle in every sense of the word, her hand gently resting on y/n's cheek, gently coaxing her to lay down.

she takes her time, wrapping her arms around y/n as she kisses her.

hope toys with the wastline of y/n's sweatpants, running her fingers over her stomach.

"may i?" she asks tentatively, looking deeply into y/n's eyes as she awaits her response.

"thought you'd never ask," y/n laughs quietly before attaching her lips to her girlfriend's once more.

hope's touch remains gentle as she dips below y/n's underwear. she studies y/n's face carefully, ensuring that she is completely okay with what she's doing.

"that's my girl. always doing so good," hope coos, listening to y/n's gentle whines.

when y/n falls over the edge, she wraps herself around hope again, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

hope holds y/n for some time, running her hand over her back.

just when hope thinks y/n has dozed off, she hears her sleepily mutter something in her ear.

"i love you."

hope wasn't sure if she would ever hear y/n say that again, and she feels relief flooding her whole body at her words.

"i love you so much, y/n."

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #the originals x reader #hope mikaelson fic #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson smut #hope mikaelson x fem! reader

[lunarw0rks]

TF 141 as Hozier songs

A/N: I love hozier so much. genuinely listen to his songs for inspo while writing quite often. here's some of the sounds that remind me of the 141 boys. I seen others doing this w/ their fav artists/songs, so here's my version. Warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, trauma mention, fluff/smut/angst, basically. // Word Count: 1.5k

☆ MAIN MASTERLIST ☆ 141 MASTERLIST ☆ ASK BOX

『 PRICE 』

As It Was: And tell me if somehow Some of it remained How long would you wait for me? How long I've been away The shape that I'm in now You're shaping the doorway Make your good love known to me Just tell me about your day

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A relationship with Price is anything but triumphant. His lovers spend more time waiting for him than with him, yet you've stuck around long enough to savor every waiting moment.

The putter of your heart and foot against the floor as you wait for that door to open. Finally greeted with the rugged man after several months, in various battered states every time.

But there aren't powerful conversations paired with physical leaps of joy; all he wants is someone to wait for him. To love him, despite the state he's in when he comes home. It's the little things.

Eat Your Young: I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin' Let me wrap my teeth around the world Start carvin', darlin', I want to smell the dinner cookin' I want to feel the edges start to burn Honey, I want to race you to the table If you hesitate, the gettin' is gone

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ All of Price's restraint is out the window once he comes home to you; finding you in your natural stated. Relaxed and waiting for him to arrive.

Forget the filling meal — his hunger is much deeper than any entrée on the stove.

It's become a game of sorts, the race to the finish with every step. To peel your dressings, to fumble through his with haste, to wrap his lips around your warm body and feast.

Movement: When you move I can recall something that's gone from me When you move Honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Nothing is more natural to him than his love and need to observe. All your flaws, all your frustrations, every little bit of you in his sights — they're savored.

Whether it be your quirks, your qualms for the day, or the way you've come undone from his famished hands.

There's nothing more cherished, either a mundane act or a carnal one. They matter most to him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SIMON 』

To Be Alone: Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life You don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He had to get used to being loved, being touched by another person who didn't want to make him bleed.

The sensations of being human, being present rather than lost in his void of memories — it's foreign.

You've made him feel resuscitated as if the blood finally pumped through his veins once again. Now, he's forced to cope with being a person again, plunged headfirst into the agonizing act of loving another soul unconditionally.

Arsonist's Lullabye: When I was a child I'd sit for hours Staring into open flame Something in it had a power Could barely tear my eyes away // Don't you ever Tame your demon But always keep 'em on a leash

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Spent hours in his childhood disassociating, finding mindless ways to pass his miserable time. Especially as an adolescent, any time away from home was desirable, even if it meant being troublesome.

The military was his only escape, yet the phantoms of his past never left him.

Simon wasn't sure he wanted them to, either. They're such a vibrant portion of his whole being, and he despises it. But he keeps them around to be the soldier he needs to be.

In The Woods Somewhere: I raised myself My legs were weak I prayed my mind be good to me An awful noise filled the air I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Simon's flashbacks were always vivid and as agonizing as the moment in time he endured them. The worst of them all, the most suffocating — the day he was buried alive.

Every ounce of his strength to get out of that box, his muscles burning and exhausted.

The screams he's heard haunt him; civilians, hostiles, his family that had been slaughtered. They taunt his ears as if he's suffocating alone all over again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SOAP 』

Work Song: When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ When Soap is with someone he's whipped.

That's what makes leaving you so hard, especially when there's no guarantee he'll be home by the end of the run. His letters, his tags, and the cherished memories might be all you have left.

But even in death, he's with you; no matter how hard the journey it will be when that inevitable day comes.

Dinner & Diatribes: Honey I laugh when it sinks in A pillar I am of pride Scarcely can speak for my thinking What you'd do to me tonight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He's an arrogant lover, oozing pride and vigor with every move he makes on you. Oh, how he loves to have you at his mercy — but how he loves being at yours.

Keep him in the dark, surprise him; let mounds of restraint double the reward, and he's yours. Wrapped around your finger and ravenous for the coquetting you indulge in together — and more.

Moments Silence (Common Tongue): Who views the deed as power's creed, as pure authority This moment's silence when my baby puts the mouth on me // Like a heathen clung to the homily Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me So summon on the pearl rosary Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His carnal need for you is never satiated, it's ever-lasting and as ferocious as his mouth. Soap's wicked tongue, either occupied on you or tight against the roof of his mouth when he clenches his jaw.

There's no act lovesome enough, not in comparison to your wicked tongue devouring him in all ways.

Whether spouting back and clashing with his pride or silencing him with lascivious ecstasy in the most biblical form — it's your choice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 GAZ 』

NFWMB: 'Cause the rest of you, the best of you Honey, belongs to me // Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby // If I was born a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If there's one sure trait of Gaz, it's covetousness. However, only where you're concerned. Though you aren't a possession, nor a warm body to be claimed, and never viewed as one — you're his.

It better be clear, too, and not from your side. It's his job to keep the envious eyes and acquisitive palms far from you.

There's no doubt in his mind that you're devoted, either. It's the sick world around him he lacks trust with — stemming from the depravity he's witness to each day.

Talk: Imagine being loved by me I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the thing I would do // How I'm imaginin' you I'd be the last shred of truth In the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His hands; calloused and ever-useful to you. The scars that litter them are a patent voucher of all they've been through — all they've done to keep the world clean.

Through his walls, and the subconscious armor that he uses as his protection, he's a whole new man. You seemingly materialized into his life, intertwining yourself with every bit of him — in every way. Your body knew it, too, as did his.

He'll have you yearning for his touch — the sweet release it gives you. It's the least he can do, considering all he asks in return is loyalty, and that's what he's gotten.

Sunlight: Oh, and these colors fade for you only Hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight // Each day, you'd rise with me Know that I would gladly be The Icarus to your certainty Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Few people see the tenderness deep within his rigid exterior, and for good reason. It's intentional, who does or doesn't get a glimpse of his most merciful portion.

You, devoted and accepting of his demanding lifestyle, have earned that right. No matter how far he is, you know you're both watching the same burning star in the sky.

Kyle was in deep; like all his foes, you become the forefront of his psyche, his reason for getting home — the face he sees when looking at the sunlight.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Thanks for reading this far! <3

`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · divider cred. - cafekitsune

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #141 headcanons #simon riley #soap mactavish #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #cod headcanons #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #tf 141 x reader #141 x reader #price headcanons #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #soap headcanons #gaz headcanons #hozier

[ilikemicrowaves]

MOURNING

Summary: Jax won't admit it, but he misses his friend Kaufmo, and the most healthy way to cope? Crying in Kaufmo's room away from everyone!

Notes: Yeah...longer than expected because of ✨️family drama✨️ and I needed to focus on my grades lol enjoy

@tadssstrange <- not the one I was working on, but I did finish this one

♡————☆◇☆————♡

Slowly creaking open the entrance to the Kaufmo's room, he flicked the lights, stepping into the clowns bedroom.  Paints, mini confetti bombs, fake daisys, all of his old stuff.

     The once clean floors and walls where still covered with his sloppy but still legible handwriting. Nobody had bothered to come to his room, yet until now. Jax couldn't bare to go.

     Steadily, the purple rabbit stepped his way to the old friends unmade bed. He hopped onto it and curled his legs up to his chess as he leaned against the wall, mourning his friends absents.

     Jax still remembered his silly little grins from just a week before, one of the only thinks that was nice in this digital hell. His favorite memories where their pranks on the others, hiding Zoobles parts, scaring Ragatha with centipedes, and even crashing an adventure if it wasn't much fun.

     Jax smiled at the thought, of Kaufmo and him making jokes or just hanging out in general. He actually enjoyed his presents, and found his startled honks and squeaks silly. He shivered thinking of the day of his abstraction. Why hadn't he put the thought on checking on him? Could he have fixed him before it was too late? It didn't matter now, he was gone; deep in the cellar with the other lost ones.

     Shakey breath, he layed his head on a pillow and stared at the ceiling. Nothing but "Exit, Exit, Exit." Endlessly repeating itself until someone would be drove mad. He turned his head away from it, and faced the desk next to the bed.

     A pot with some daisys, a lamp, and a peice of crumbled paper..

     Paper?

Jax lifted his arm enough to reach out and grab it, unfolding it until he could see the rest of the page. It was a note, or rather, letter. His pupils scanned the writing.

     I know I will be gone soon, I can feel it. Just yesterday I started hacking up thick black goo. I can't leave without proving them I'm right. Caine is a LIAR. I seen it, large and red. I probably couldn't even reach the handle if I got to it. I've seen it twice, outside and in the tent. I'm not having digital hallucinations, I've been here long enough. Once I show everyone that Exit, we can all leave together. I don't know what's on the other side, or even if our family's are still out, if we had any. I just cant leave them all behind, especially Jax's. But maybe then, I can find Jax afterwards, and we can be best buds outside of this hell  and be free.

     Those last few sentences... It made him tear. So many emotions filled his head and heart all at once. Breaking down, he held onto the paper fiercely and began to slowly but surely, break into a sob. Thankfully these rooms where all soundproof, he couldn't have any of the others seeing him so weak and cowardly.

     He couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his face leaving wet spots on the pillow and blanket. Soon enough, he started to whimper. Embarrassing squeaks and whines croaked from his throat that he couldn't control.

     Being in this room didn't help. Kaufmo wasn't coming back but he still felt there.

     He buried his face into the pillow to try and quiet his sobs even though no one but him could hear it. He couldn't bare his sobs, he wasn't supposed to cry. He's the tough guy, that listens to nobody and has no soft spots.

     His heart rate began to slow and his sobs and whines softened after about a good 5 minutes. He grabbed the blanket and curled himself into it, tucking each corner in to trap the heat and let his tense muscles relax. His breathing calmed and he was able to stop shaking from his cries. Finally, he let his mind drift to some place else, and with a few sighs he muttered, "I miss you, Kauffy," and fell into a deep, calming sleep.

♡————☆◇☆————♡

Notes: the fluff one should be done within next month, I've been bussier than expected.

PLEASE REBLOG

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc kaufmo #tadc jax #kaufax #meanjokes #mischievous honk #jax x kaufmo #kaufmo x jax #<- its hinted / implied #also i dont think i will do any big writing of them because i dont think we see enough of Jax's yet and Kaufmo doesnt even have any lines #but i do plan to

[callsignfangs]

The 141 boys as widowers. (bc i feel like torturing myself /j)

141 x late (implied) spouse! reader

cws: grief, mentions of loss, implied alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions self-destructive behaviour, very brief mention of addiction, etc (Please lmk if I've missed anything!)

(Note: This little drabble is a little self indulgent, a bit about my own journey with grief. Each little 'story' thing does end with acceptance. Please don't read if you're not in the right headspace, and remember that you're loved and you're not alone, and make sure to reach out if you need help <3)

--

Price is the one inclined to bargaining. Maybe he could've done something - what if he'd taken a bit more time off work, what if he spent more time with you, what if he'd agreed to retire early with you, what if he was there? Ironically enough - he just ends up drowning himself in more work, probably turns to smoking or alcohol in an attempt to drown everything out.

141, Gaz and Soap especially, will definitely be the only thing he holds on for. As capable as they all are, he couldn't just up and leave his boys without a captain - he couldn't make the same mistake over again, they gave him something to care for, to nurture and to look after.

I don't think he'll ever marry again - just making half-hearted attempts to peek into the dating scene whenever leave got especially lonely. He'd never be able to find anyone quite like you, so he eventually stopped bothering with it, finding warmth and comfort in himself and the other people he loved.

He keeps a photo of you, one of your handwritten notes, and any little trinket you'd given him at all times. Saved every single snippet of you talking he could - even still paying off your phone bill occasionally ringing your phone to hear your voicemail message, maybe sending you texts when things got especially hard. Definitely does chores the exact way you always did - from the time you went out to shop in the morning to how you stacked dishes. Loves hot showers but still takes a lukewarm one each morning because your habit of taking cold showers meant the water was never hot enough for him. I think he probably adopts something after the rough edges of the hole you'd left in his heart smoothed over.

It wasn't intentional in the slightest - maybe a stray cat had clung to his pant leg while he was on a hike or the task force managed to pick up an orphaned little kid on one of their excursions. He's very hesitant with them, still not quite trusting himself with caring for another being. But he warms up to them eventually. No matter human or animal, they've definitely been brought to your gravesite once or twice.

Maybe it would be alright, eventually. He'd at least have something interesting to entertain you with the next life he found you.

--

Soap is definitely in denial. Convinces himself it's a mistake - that when deployment's finally over, he'll trudge home, kick off his boots, and be met by his sweet love, bouncing at his heels like an overeager puppy and lathering his face in flittering little kisses. He still avoids coming home like the plague - resorts to anything from taking on way too many missions, to picking up another job on the side, even to staying in hotels as if he was in some sort of covert op.

He'd be forced to go back to your house eventually, though. Not home, it wasn't home without you there. Just the same four walls and roof he camped out in on deployment. Nothing warm or special about it.

He still pretended, though. Made your bed every morning the way you liked it and prepared meals for two every day.

While Price and Ghost undoubtedly pulled him out of his slump, Gaz was the person who really started him on the road to acceptance. Having the boys over near constantly was soothing, giving him something to occupy his mind with and overshadowing the cold emptiness of the house. The occasional cuddle piles and game nights reminded him of the warmth of their bond - like the nights they spent on stakeouts, letting their own sweet joy shield them from the brutal realities of their situation.

Gaz was the first person he cried to. Soap couldn't bear the way his buzzed sides were starting to fluff out, but he'd slowly gotten used to letting your gentle hands preen him and tidy him up. Of course, Gaz had noticed, and of course, he'd insisted that Soap just had to let him have a go at doing up someone else's hair. Soap didn't know when he'd devolved into tears - somewhere between the first gentle touch he'd felt in weeks and the crippling realisation that you'd never be there to do it again.

Either way, he'd managed to cry himself to sleep in Gaz's arms that night. He continued to sob himself away for weeks, filling each day with tears.

Until each day turned into each few.

And each few turned into once a week.

And slowly, his tears dried up.

It was an arduous process, grieving. But he stubbornly forced through it, just as he'd forced his way into your heart.

And he did his very best not to change. He determinedly kept the mohawk - even used the same shampoo because it made his hair feel perfectly fluffy under your touch. He did his best to continue being his perky, bubbly self, because he knew how you practically basked in his energy.

However, he still let himself grow, let his hawk grow out so he could braid it the way he'd always considered, and he let himself have his bad days, didn't force himself to keep up his energy when he didn't really have enough.

Admittedly, though, he never married again. He found temporary enjoyment in little flings, though he let them pass when the time was right. No matter what, he always came back to your house.

Sure, it wasn't quite home without you there. But you'd been there - no matter how little the time you'd had together felt in hindsight - so maybe he could learn to make it home again. For you.

--

Gaz is angry - furious to the point of enraged tears. If it was him? He'd understand. He'd hurt people, torn apart lives and taken his fair share of them. He deserved it. But you? It wasn't fair. In his eyes, you couldn't possibly hurt a fly, so delicate and tender and so, so soft. It just wasn't fair.

His attempt at coping is to delve headfirst into a tedious slew of missions - one after another after another. It gives him something to dump all his blind rage and hurt and desperation into. His morals were a writhing, flailing, unrecognisable mess for a long time, and the best comfort he could find was in the chaotic monotony of work.

So what if he burned everything in his path to ash? At least the threat was dealt with.

Price and Ghost are the most essential to his recovery. He needs guidance, needs some sort of structure, and needs to relinquish the tight hold on his need to be good, to fix things, to help, to finally restore what he was so reliant on, even if that meant tearing himself to shreds in the process. What he needs is time to grieve, time to come to terms with the unforgiving reality - that it just happened. No-one did anything wrong, there was no violence or intent, it just happened.

He'll absolutely come to deeply regret everything he did in his grief-induced warpath, but eventually accept that he was hurt and lost and just needed the help - the intervention.

Like Price, I think he might attempt to put himself out there and find someone new every once in a while, maybe even builds up to a couple dates, but he never really finds interest in anyone. He definitely remains friends with many of the people he meets, but he just can't quite find a spark - mainly because they're not you.

He never throws out anything of yours, his wardrobe is still mostly full of random articles of your clothing, and the third drawer on the nightstand is still yours.

He always wears something of yours when he goes out, from shirts and shorts to hoodies, even some of your jewelry.

Despite it being admittedly pretty late, he finally watches all of the shows you liked and reads all the books you did. It makes him feel closer to you - cuddling up under your favourite blanket in your favourite spot and picturing you being there with him, imagining each and every one of your reactions, practically seeing your lovely face curl with smiles as you commentated over the whole thing.

Sure, you weren't really there with him anymore, but the sweet, warm mark you'd left on his heart was enough to carry him over until he inevitably returned to you.

--

Ghost is mostly depressed. He's so agonisingly hurt and lost, but you were his sun - what gave him life and love, and without you? He just couldn't muster up the energy to do anything beyond simply existing. Even he'd expected himself to crash and burn - follow in his brother's footsteps and drown in a spiral of addiction. But he just... Didn't. The affirmation that he didn't blow up and take everyone he loved down with him would be reassuring, comforting, but it wasn't. Not without you whispering praise in his ear, assuring him of his goodness and softness.

I think he'd also be reliant on Soap and Gaz, but Price would be a surprisingly big factor as well. No-one could ever really replicate the effect you had on him, the way your encouragement kept him going, but having some amount of structure, of motivation? It helped. Despite that, he absolutely tried to push them out at first, convinced that the acrid shadow of death looming over his shoulder would eventually take them as well. What are task force 141 if not determined and unfathomably stubborn, though, especially when it came to caring for their own.

Soap undoubtedly led the charge - seeing as his ceaseless energy and affection were mildly more normal (god knows Simon needed a little bit of comforting normalcy). Gaz came second, still snarky and headstrong as ever, but with softened edges and an air of gentle care. Price was last. He'd been there before Simon was Ghost, he was aware enough to piece bits of his past together - and he'd be damned if he managed to scare Simon, if he was the reason he regressed further. So he was tender. Delicate, even. Ghost would despise being handled like fragile porcelain in Price's kid gloves, but it soothed a part of Simon that hadn't peeked out since you left.

It'll take a bit longer than the others - more therapy, reassurance and care, but he'll recover eventually, let the wound you left in his porous heart scar over and go on as best he could.

I don't think he'll look for romance again either - his interest in it just died out alongside you. He wants to preserve the sanctity and tenderness of what you had, and is more than content with holding that love in his heart, and keeping it safe for you until he meets you again.

After you're gone, he attempts to follow your advice more, occasionally dragging himself out of his comfort zone, picking up new hobbies and trying to emulate your passion for life in himself, keeping a little bit of you alive with him. He absolutely douses the house in your favourite fragrance, refuses to use any hygiene products other than yours and carries something of yours everywhere, whether it be your ring or even your purse, just something to remind him he had to look after things (including himself) for you.

Even if you were cremated or buried in some other way, he'd ensure there was a gravestone for you placed alongside his mother, Tommy, Beth and little Joseph. You'd always be part of his family - his heart, and when his time came? He'd be buried alongside you, trailing along with you into whatever came next. By your side forever.

<3

Yippee. This was. A journey. /lh

Sorry if this isn't formatted the best, it was more of a massive brain dump that I forcibly shoved into something just about understandable lol

If you're seeing this, tyvm for reading mwah 😚😚

#task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #angst #angst with like. acceptance? #grief #tw grief #dead reader #141 boys being sad #i maybe cried a little when writing this. #just a little #(i wept) #(multiple times) #brain dump #fangs drabbles