#like turning lights on in a slightly dark room feels like turning on a radio and it being on max volume

[sluttywoozi]

Starry Eyed | kmg x reader

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new. 

Rating: T | WC: ~2.6k | Genre: romance, fluff | Pairing: kmg x reader

Warnings: kissing, food

Reader Notes: wears a dress, gets lifted by mingyu, referred to as ‘miss’ (forgot to add before, my bad!)

You’re not always ready when Mingyu rolls up to your house and knocks on your door, but on nights like tonight, you are. 

You’ve got your prettiest dress on, the one that he said makes your eyes sparkle, and you have a small container holding the cake you baked him just this afternoon. There’s a blanket, some battery powered fairy lights, and a bluetooth speaker in your bag, and as soon as you hear his timid raps on the wood, you’re on your feet and across the room. You don’t bother to slow yourself down as you open the door, long past pretending you do anything but sit on the couch waiting for him on nights like these. 

Especially since it’s his birthday. Well, almost. 

The smile that lights up his face when you appear has you fighting a swoon, though you know he would catch you before you hit the ground, his clumsiness absent when it comes to protecting you. 

“Hey baby,” he says softly, already leaning in for a kiss. You happily grant it, pressing your lips to his and feeling that familiar spark in your stomach, the one you’ve only ever felt with him. 

“Hi Mingyu,” you whisper, feeling oddly shy as he looks you up and down, taking in the bag on your shoulder and the box you carry. Normally, you’re empty handed, content to spend the hours just listening to music and talking about everything and nothing, like you always do. 

But you want him to feel special tonight, to feel the love that you foster for him, to see the roots of the flowers that grow in your heart, watered and fed by him and him alone. 

“Ready?” He asks, holding a hand out and waiting for you to take it, as if you could ever deny him. 

“Ready,” you grin, giggling as he pulls you through your garden gate and around to the passenger seat of his truck. He opens the door for you and holds your waist as you climb up, making sure you’re securely inside before closing your door and running around to the driver’s side. 

“Where are we going tonight?” You wonder, resting your head on the back of the seat and gazing at his profile, his sharp jawline and perfect nose and adorable ears. 

“I thought I’d take you to the lake, the stars are crazy this time of year,” he glances over at you, laying his hand palm up on your thigh. The corners of his lips quirk up when you lace your fingers through his and he brings your joined hands to his mouth for a kiss, like it’s just instinct by now. 

After ten months together, maybe it is. 

This will be the first of Mingyu’s birthdays that you’ll get to be with him for, and you’re honored and slightly nervous that he wants to spend the time leading up to it with you. It’s barely 9 pm, there’s still three hours until it’s actually his birthday, but he was adamant that he wanted you with him for the transition and you’ve never been one to tell him no. 

So here you are, driving down backroads and nodding along to the soft music playing on his radio, soaking in his lovely singing voice and stifling a smile at his lisp. He squeezes your hand when your song comes on, the one you decided together best matched your relationship, and you feel his ivy in your heart grow just a bit denser, just a bit greener. 

It’s not long before you pull up to the lookout, Mingyu parking on the gravel with not a single other car in sight. If you were with anyone else, you’d be nervous, scared of every shadow and the dark lake stretched out in front of you, but with Mingyu, you know you’re safe. 

He turns the truck off and unweaves his fingers from yours, jogging around to your side to open your door and help you down. You hold tight to your bag and the box of cake as he wraps his hands around your sides and helps you step down. You don’t mean to but you end up in his space when your shoes touch gravel, and there’s a split second of tension, one where you’re sure he’ll kiss your lights out. He just pulls away and takes your hand again, though, and you take in a deep breath and hold it long enough to blank out the dizziness he evokes. 

Mingyu is quick to unlatch the tailgate when you get to the back of his truck, and even quicker to hoist you up into the cargo bed, his hands respectful and his handling of you utilitarian. You know it’s just because he’ll get distracted if he lingers, but you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to dawdle a teeny bit more, not that you’ll ever tell him that. 

He hops up into the bed with you, walking over to the large metal storage box and pulling something out with a flourish. 

“Look, baby,” he grins, his eyes somehow brighter than his smile. 

You can’t quite tell what it is he’s holding, but then he unravels it and you realize with a gasp and a skip of your heart that he’s brought a bedroll. He must have packed it just for you, after you told him your back ached the last time you laid in the bed of his truck for hours. 

“You’re so sweet, I could cry,” you beam up at him from where you sit, rising to your feet so he can arrange the padding. You take the time to set up your own things, winding the fairy lights along the inner edges of the truck and powering on your bluetooth speaker, starting your mixed playlist at a volume low enough for you to talk over. The blanket was meant to go under you but now it can go over, and you’re even more grateful for his thoughtfulness when you feel the chilly spring breeze ruffle your dress. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the most practical choice of clothing, but you wanted to dress up for him a little bit, and you can’t fault yourself for that. 

“You look so pretty, I should have told you earlier,” Mingyu says as he settles on his back on the padding, reaching out for you with open arms. You kneel carefully and curl up next to him, grabbing a corner of the blanket and drawing it over both of your bodies as you lean back and rest your head on his outstretched arm. 

“Thank you,” you smile and tilt toward him for a kiss, your lips pressing against his softly before you pull away and snuggle into his chest. You feel a pressure on the top of your head and know he must have kissed you there too, eliciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. 

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new. 

You turn your eyes to the sky and take in the blanket of stars above you, their light striking on such a cloudless evening. 

You know the visible constellations in this area thanks to countless nights spent like this, but you let him point them out to you anyway, just because he gets so excited to tell you about their stories. 

He can summon them from memory by now, having lived in this small town his whole life. You moved here only two years ago, and met Mingyu before you even moved in. 

After hours of driving, your sweet little car broke down a mile from the city line, with all of your earthly possessions packed in the back. You were close to tears, sitting on the side of the road trying to get in touch with your insurance when he pulled up behind you and hopped out. 

You were nervous at first, he’s such a large man and he has such a large truck, but then he smiled at you and asked in the most gentle voice you’d ever heard, “Need some help, miss?” 

You, obviously, fell in love immediately, but you were sure a guy like him would be taken already so you kept your feelings to yourself and tried not to let your eyes linger on his muscles as he loaded your things into the bed of his truck. 

You had to look up your own address when he asked, and offered to give him directions but he just turned to you and said softly, “No need, miss, I know how to get there.” 

And he did. Fifteen minutes later, he was parking in front of your new home and offering to bring your belongings in if you’d run ahead and get the door. All of your city-bred instincts told you not to let him into your house, but you decided then and there to put your faith in him, and to this day, he’s never made you regret it. 

Mingyu asks you a question, pulling you out of your reverie, and you feel your cheeks heat as you realize you drifted off in thought while he was speaking. 

“Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?” You ask, looking up at him with your most apologetic eyes. 

He just grins and shakes his head, knowing you get lost in your head sometimes. 

“I asked if you believe in soulmates,” he repeats in a nonchalant voice, the circles he swirls on your back the only sign that he’s nervous about your answer. 

You hum, contemplating carefully. You never believed in fate or destiny growing up, and the concept of soulmates always seemed to be so far-fetched, but you have to admit that Mingyu has made you think differently. 

He hardly ever leaves town, what were the odds of him being sent over to the city for a one day carpentry workshop? What were the odds of him coming back right after your car broke down? What were the odds of you even moving here in the first place? 

There were hundreds of small towns to pick from, why did you choose this one?

And how in the hell was he single when you finally worked up the guts to ask him on a date?

“Baby? You don’t have to answer, I know you don’t really believe in that stuff,” he forces a laugh, shifting under you. 

“I didn’t until I met you,” you confess, looking up to face him because you can feel his eyes on you. 

He searches your face, hope and nerves warring on his own until his gaze clears and his lips stretch in a shining, ardent grin. 

“I love you,” he whispers slowly, the words carrying more weight than they usually do. You know he always means it, but this time feels different, more like a promise. 

“I love you,” you send him a wobbly smile, your feelings bubbling up in your chest until you fear they’ll spill out of your eyes as tears. 

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, drawing you toward him just as you start to lean in. You’re happy to meet him in the middle and even happier to feel his lips on yours, to feel him breathe his love into you. 

You kiss for what feels like hours, always keeping the gentle, languid pace. There’s no urgency, no blaze of desire, just a warm, comforting feeling overtaking you, something like sinking into a hot bath after a long, freezing day. 

When you finally pull away, it’s because an alarm goes off, one that you completely forgot you set in the first place. You reach into your bag for your phone and you’re shocked to discover it actually has been hours since you started kissing him, your sense of time completely skewed when it comes to Mingyu. 

In just five minutes, it will be his birthday, and if you didn’t have the forethought to set an alarm for 11:55, you would have kissed him right through midnight. 

This gives you just enough time to get everything ready, and though he pouts when you peel yourself off of him, you know he’s excited for what you have in store. 

“Close your eyes,” you instruct him softly, waiting for his eyelids to flutter shut before springing into action. 

He didn’t ask you to do anything but spend time with him, and while you’re happy to do that, you still couldn’t stop yourself from preparing just a little something. 

You dig through your bag again to find the utensils, birthday candles, and lighter buried at the bottom before grabbing the container you stashed by the tool box. Wishing, hoping, praying the cake hasn’t been ruined, you take off the lid and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of unmarred frosting. 

Mingyu is no stranger to your baking, but this is the first cake you’ve specifically made just for him, and you want it to be perfect. 

With the clock ticking, you carefully push the 2 and 7 candles in, setting the container down next to him and lighting the wicks just as your second alarm goes off. There’s only one minute till midnight now, and you leave your phone clock on so you can watch the time go from 11:59 to 12:00. 

“Okay, open,” you tell him, kneeling a foot from where he lays, your lips bitten between your teeth and your hands clasped together in excitement.

When he blinks his eyes open and you see his face in the candlelight, the sheer love and devotion that floods your chest takes your breath away. You couldn’t exactly hide the cake container so you know he was aware you were planning something, but his eyes still grow wide in joyful shock, the beam that spreads his kiss-swollen lips enough to send your heart galloping away. 

“Baby, you did all this just for me?” He asks, his voice just a bit watery and his eyes only slightly glassy. 

“Of course I did, Gyu, I love you. Now, make a wish and blow out the candles, it’s almost midnight!” You urge him, watching as his eyes squeeze shut and his lips move, like the wish won’t come true if he doesn’t actually spell it out. 

You don’t try to decode his words, even though you’re sure he won’t tell you what his wish was. You’ll let him keep it, you think, and make your own wish that his will come true. 

His eyes open before he purses his lips and pushes out a breath, extinguishing the candles and grinning up at you with a secret in his smile. You can only surmise the wish involves you, and curiosity sinks its claws deep into you, down to the bone. 

“You’re not going to ask what I wished for?” Mingyu gleefully teases you, reading you like you’re a book he’ll never put down. 

“Nope,” you shake your head magnanimously, faking serenity even though you know he can see right through it. 

His face softens into something fond, and before he can even reach for you, you’re leaning down and pressing your lips to his. It’s just a chaste, loving peck this time, mainly because you can tell Mingyu is itching to taste the cake. “Happy birthday,” you murmur into his lips before pulling away and pushing the cake closer to him. 

“Have at it,” you giggle as you hand him a fork, watching as he digs in with gusto, his eyes closing and his face scrunching in delight at the flavors you chose. 

He lets out a pleased hum, then garbles through a mouth full of cake, “Thank you, baby. Best birthday ever.”

You won’t even beg him to swallow before speaking like you usually do - it's his day, after all. 

AN: happy birthday to the darling boy! sorry i'm a day late 💖

For mingyu and @bbychocolat

thank you for cheering me on @the-boy-meets-evil 💖

#mingyu oneshot #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu x you #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt fanfic #✨emily writes✨

[tojipie]

3:30

pt. 2

content: age gap, reader of age as always, dilf toji, nsfw, teasing

──────────────────────

“toji?” you stand in the doorway of the older man’s bedroom, anxiously playing with the hem of your sweater. the suns only barely began to peek through the blinds of the house, shrouding his form in a blanket of semi-darkness.

you anxiously watch the rise and fall of his chest, waiting for a reply. the deep rumble of his breath fills the room as you rethink whether you should bother him on his only day off.

“i missed the bus.” you whisper apologetically, padding to the side of his bed and prodding his buff shoulders with your much smaller hand. “m’sorry.”

the huff the older man let’s out only makes you feel worse as you watch him turn over, pulling the covers over himself and settling deeper into the mattess .

“‘m’sorry toji…” you whine over the lump forming in your throat. the pressure you feel behind your eyes soon gives way to the feeling of watery tears. “i-it’s finals week a-and—“

“you know why i let you live with gumi n’ me pretty girl?” he cuts you off abruptly, eyes still closed as he mumbles into his pillow.

you’re taken aback by the question, unsure whether he wants an actual answer or not.

“cause my parents kicked me out?” you mumble, rubbing the wetness from your eyes with the back of your hand.

“cause i knew you’re not the kind of broad who likes to be a fucking bother.” he states plainly, finally opening a sleep-swollen eye to look back at you with a half grin.

you’re about to apologize again but quickly quiet down and step back once he rises from the covers. toji reaches for the jug of water by his night stand, taking a hearty swing before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his eyes rake over your form, stopping appreciatively at your bottom half.

“fuck you got on?” he asks, taking another swing of water. the sleazy grin on his face let’s you know he’s just teasing.

“it’s our uniform.” you state plainly, a little embarrassed from the attention. you lean forward and look down at your bare legs, smoothing the creases in your skirt with your hands. “megumi kind of wears the same thing, just with slacks. you’ve seen him.”

“megumi doesn’t roll his little skirt up like a tease, sweet girl.” the older man chuckles, lifting the hem of your sweater to thumb at your double-folded waistband.

“everyone does that.” you mutter, stepping back to hide the way your thighs squeeze together at his whims.

“oh yeah?” toji rises with a groan and passes you without so much as a glance, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his face with a calloused hand.

“get my keys.” he tells you. “fuck... what i gotta take care of you too?”

˚ ✧ ───────────

“thank you for driving me.” you mumble, closing your eyes at the feeling of the warm spring air circulating through the car. toji has the roof down, clad in a black wife beater as he taps the steering wheel to the beat of the song currently booming through the classic vehicle.

“huh?” he leans in, motioning for you to tell him in his ear, clearly unable to hear you over the music.

“wh- thank you for driving me!” you half yell, eyes wandering to the half empty bottles of water that line the floor of his green dodge.

“yeah, you’re good doll.” he tells you, still nodding along to the song. “don’t worry about it.”

you’re thankful to have no onlookers as the two of you pull up to the front of campus. the older man makes no effort to turn down the radio, unlocking the car and lighting a cigarette while you gather your bag from the backseat.

“i’ll pick you up, ok?”

you pause, looking up at him with unease.

“you don’t have to..”

“i want to.” he tells you, blowing smoke to the side with a grin. “i’ll take you for ice cream or something. you like shit like that right?”

you nod, mouth slightly agape at his sudden show of interest. you could do ice cream, in fact you’d love to do ice cream.

“3:30 then?” you ask him, padding over to the door of the driver’s side.

he nods, taking another drag.

“thank you.” you mumble, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to the soft of his cheek, immediately recoiling in embarrassment.

“fuck.” he groans, reaching over to smack the back of your thigh with a calloused hand. smoke trails over his lips when he speaks.

“yeah, 3:30.”

you feel your stomach melt as you watch him drive away. what you don’t see is the ways he snakes one hand down to give his cock a squeeze before turning the radio up further.

#the song he plays is ‘where the hood at’ by DMX if anyone cares #he sings the “how you gon' explain fucking a man?” part real loud LMAOO #dilf!toji #toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #jjk #jjk fic #jjk hcs #toji drabbles #toji hcs #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji zenin #zenin toji #dilf toji #toji headcanons #jujutsu toji #toji x reader smut #toji smut #toji x fem reader smut

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [5]

・❥ You make a deal with Alastor, uh oh?

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

x: i actually enjoy alastor’s room a lot, esp that little pocket dimension he’s got going on. thought we’d take a chapter and play around with it!

~ 6.1k words

When you stepped into Alastor’s room, the last thing you expected to see was the opposite wall divulging into some swampy void of tall, dark trees as fog rolled across the grass. You swore you could even hear the faint sounds of bullfrogs calling across the flooded expanse.

A bayou in the middle of the hotel? Alastor must have done this, no doubt. Stopping just past the threshold to the large room, you pointed a questioning finger towards the swamp. 

“What is that…?” 

“Just a place to test my powers,” Alastor brushed past you, and the soft, orange lights nearby flickered to life as he entered beside you, “Somewhere the consequences of my actions won’t affect the outside world.”

“Consequences?”

“Correct,” Alastor seemed to be enjoying educating you on magic and what he was capable of, as he continued to undo his coat near the doorway as you explored, “The limits of my powers continue to expand, and anyone with a good head on their shoulders would do well to understand the potential risks involved when playing around with demonic forces. This is a sanctuary I can do that without causing chaos inside the hotel… and a quaint little view as well.”

“Is it real?” Your gaze skimmed across old black-and-white photos of demons you didn’t recognize.

“An illusion carefully crafted with years of work. I’ve fine-tuned it to display scenes closest to my memories from before.”

“It must remind you of home,” you said softly, eyes tracing an alligator skeleton nailed to the wall, a string of small, flickering lights snaking around its ribs and up its tail. 

Even if Alastor never mentioned it without a little prodding, it seemed as if his old home on Earth was something he continued to keep close to him. He still had a passion for music, for southern food, and his drive to keep everything the way it was only further displayed his fondness towards his life on earth. What wasn’t there to miss when you’d end up in a place like this for eternity?

“Indeed,” Alastor nodded slowly, and you watched his signature red suit slip slowly down his back. Underneath, a crimson dress shirt shimmered softly in the ambient light. Thin, leather straps hugged tightly across his chest and back, before wrapping around his shoulders for one and down his sides to latch tightly on his dress pants. 

The chest suspenders accentuated his slenderness, shaping the pointish frame of his suit to lovely lines like the noticeable curve of his hips. His thin, feminine waist was as prominent as ever with the straps keeping his shirt nestled tightly against his skin, revealing a more sophisticated figure than what his tuxedo suit had to offer.

Wowie.

You prayed Alastor would turn around to face you, only so you could see how yummy he looked from the front while he placed his signature red coat onto the hanger next to the door. You struggled to keep your eyes up as they traveled farther and farther down his firm back until—

Wait, a second. Was that small, dark red tuft of fur that was nestled against the small of his back, actually what you think it is? 

It jutted out from the top of Alastor’s pants, relaxed against the tight fabric. As the demon walked towards the bookshelf, arm raising towards a vintage radio, it swished cutely behind him. You zoned in on the ball of fluff, mouth slightly agape.

TAIL!

Heat instantly crept onto your cheeks, your fingers twitching, itching to reach forward and wrap your fingers around the plush fur. Alastor’s tail looked as soft as his ears, and that made your face only boil hotter as you imagined how his hair must feel similar. The thought of burying your face in him like a pillow made you smile dopely, before the realization of what you were thinking made you clamp your lips into a thin line.

Smacking a hand over your face, you tried to hide your embarrassment as Alastor moved a few feet further away, completely oblivious to your flustered figure ogling him.

What was wrong with you?! Here you were supposed to be helping him with his wounds but instead you were too busy drooling at how pretty he was!

Alastor’s tail was much more reactive than his ears, and as his fingers fussed with the radio dial, the increasingly audible jazz tune that began to waft through its speakers had that tuft of fur beginning to rise. White peaked from his underfur, as it slowly lifted in a silent expression of pleasure from the demon, as the music began to pour from the radio crystal clear.

You could understand why he was so intent on keeping it hidden underneath his suit. It didn’t seem like Alastor had complete control of his tail, and there was no doubt he saw it as a ‘weakness’ that other powerful demons could use against him somehow.

You thought it was adorable, and somehow, you’d convince Alastor of that too. 

A gentle jazz beat with words you didn’t recognize wafted through the air, as Alastor turned to face you with a satisfied grin. Your eyes instantly shot up to meet his own, but not in time for the demon to notice your strange, heated demeanor and the way you cracked a quick, innocent grin. 

He definitely caught you staring at his ass, and now you had other things to stare at with how snug that leather strap was across his upper body, and the way it seemed to only make his chest puff out even more. You definitely weren’t having a hard time controlling your gaze as Alastor sidled to the desk, a playful glint from his monocle as his eyelids lowered slightly. 

“Find something of interest?” He hummed, cracking a charming smile as he slid his claws gently across the oak desk’s surface, tracing lines downward until he landed at the top drawer. Pulling it open as you averted your gaze, eyes searching for anything of interest.

“Why, yes,” you nodded, putting a hand to your chin in dramatic thought as your attention landed on the bookshelf Alastor had just moved away from, the rows of books on full display, the titles unreadable in the dim light.

“You love to read, unsurprisingly.” You smiled as Alastor pulled a small medical kit from the drawer, turning to face you slowly, “Do you have a preferred genre?” 

“Murder mysteries are a favorite of mine,” He nodded, striding over to the twin vintage cushioned chairs that sat next to the fireplace, “The fear and the adrenaline that spikes through the protagonist as they try to find the killer before the killer finds them, a thrilling hunt from both sides.”

Alastor giggled at that, placing a hand to his mouth as if recalling a fond memory as you slowly joined him next to the fireplace. It flickered with bright green light, licking at the metal railings keeping its size in check as Alastor stood beside the chair, gesturing you to sit.

“You’re the one injured,” you frowned, plopping down into the chair as you took the medical kit from his free hand, “It should be me doing these things for you.” 

“Manners don’t go out the door just because there is blood present, I am still a gentleman,” Alastor replied with a waggle of his finger, before he took a seat near you, his claws tapping against the chair’s arm rhythmically with the jazz music. 

The warmth from the fire had your eyes drooping slightly, exhaustion tickling the back of your scalp. Even though it was technically still early afternoon, almost getting blown up multiple times, meeting the king of Hell who also saved your life, and being in the center of the two power demon’s bickering had drained you. 

Alastor’s room was very serene, the soft jazz lulling you into a tranquility that had you sinking further into the chair. The deep brown, neutral tones of the antique furniture that framed the room, along with the orange lights that flickered softly along the walls were easy on your eyes, and you smiled softly as you unclipped the medical case’s lid and opened it slowly.

With invisible hands, Alastor’s chair moved forward without effort, scraping softly against the dark red carpet beneath before stilling right as his legs were about to brush against your own. Skimming through the contents of bandaids, your attention landed on packaged tiny alcohol wipes and thin white gauze. Placing the two items on your lap, you leaned over and placed the medical kit on a side table nearby. 

Lifting a hand towards Alastor, you beckoned him forward and he slid his fingers into your palm. He leaned forward as you pulled his hand into your lap, one elbow against the arm of the chair, a hand cupping his chin as he watched you tenderly dab his cuts with the alcohol wipe. The smeared blood against his skin was cleaned off as you worked, and Alastor only silently judged you on the strange, affectionate behavior.

Why would you care so much about a few scratches on his hand, when it meant nothing in the long run. It's not like the rose was made out of angelic steel, yet you fretted simply because he could still feel the sting of the thorns on his tender skin.

For any other demon, Alastor would have slapped them across the face with a tentacle for suggesting to look after him in this way. Why would he reveal any kind of weakness to someone who could use it against him, or view him as what, fragile, delicate? That was not something The Radio Demon could have for his image.

Except, your intention was nothing but pure since the first time Alastor had met you. Even Charlie, the sweet and naive woman he’d come to grow fond of, still had her reasons for treating Alastor with great kindness. He was beneficial to her hotel’s success, and as long as he felt welcomed, he’d help her turn her dreams into reality. Since he began climbing the political ladder of Pentagram City, anytime someone wanted his presence was to use him. 

You, on the other hand, had no ulterior motive. Even when you learned from your friend the terrible things they claim Alastor committed, your curiosity and kindness towards him never faltered. 

You had never asked for his help, even going so far as to deny his assistance when it came to putting that snobby boss of yours back in line. Every time the two of you had crossed paths, it had been him initiating the meeting, him making the first moves for you to notice his presence, him seeking you out. 

And now, even seeing Alastor in any kind of vulnerable state, your soft and gentle demeanor didn’t waver, didn’t dull knowing he wasn’t a second-to-none overlord that could take on any threat as he’s so valiantly demonstrated before.

You didn’t value him any less for his injuries, and in truth, your image of him only improved knowing he was just a man in demon form. Someone with insecurities, human emotions like pain and jealousy, and a good eye for flora.

Except, Alastor wished you’d be paying less attention to his grievous wounds, and instead of focusing on the question you were rudely interrupted trying to answer this morning. 

“Come to a decision on your stay at the hotel?” 

Your hands halted in mid-air, the gauze between your fingers while you had been finishing up wrapping his fingers with the white tape. You had been thinking this whole time about different haircuts to subtly introduce Alastor to improve the only slightly lacking feature on his figure.

“Well–I, um, about that…” you started, grimacing at the way the words fell out of your mouth were scrambled under his intense gaze, “I have been thinking, but I mean, there’s a lot to think about. First off, while I believe Charlie really has something going on here with the hotel… I don’t think I fit the criteria.”

“Of course you do!” Alastor chuckled, as if you had just said the silliest thing to have graced his ears, “If a harlot and that slithering simpleton have a chance at leading a virtuous existence, then I'd say the cards are in your hands for that too!” 

You were about to open your mouth, before he leaned back into his chair, slipping his bandaged hand out of your grip and back to his side to inspect it carefully. 

“And, I’m quite confident you could find a more fulfilling job here at the hotel, instead of under that spineless wretch of a man,” Alastor continued, reclining back into the chair as he tilted his head in thought.

“Probably…”

“Not to mention, complimentary room and board? My, you’ve got a very tantalizing offer right in front of you, any sorry bloke off the street would be jumping at the opportunity you’ve been given.”

Was that true? Alastor was really selling this to you, and you reached up a hand to soothingly scratch your neck as you thought. Would it be so bad to stay here? 

Your thoughts from earlier this morning replayed in your head. There wasn’t anything specifically keeping you from denying the offer. You worked a dead-end job around people you were uncomfortable with, the place you were renting was small and falling apart, and you had nobody holding you back. Your friends were there, but weren’t close in your circle. Which kind of meant you didn’t have a circle… except these new demons at the hotel. You were warming up to them, and they weren’t too bad.

Did you really have a shot at redemption? Were you worthy of eternal happiness?

What if having such made you a laughingstock, what if joining these people made you a target of Heaven? That wouldn’t be good, and you were a nobody with no power that 

“Al…” You sighed with a groan, placing your head into your hands. Why did you have to be so indecisive?!

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Alastor's smile cracked wider, the curves of his lips becoming sharper as an unreadable expression crossed his eyes.

“A deal?”

“Just a simple thing,” He smiled innocently, leaning  “No contract or handshake necessary, I believe you are trustworthy to hold up your end with just words.”

God, he was super close to you now, practically nose to nose as he looked at you expectantly. A playful glint shimmered in his red monocle, and your breath hitched at his proximity. 

“What kind of deal?” You finally whispered, heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“You want to learn my interests, want a peek into my life above, hm?” He inched closer to you, smile widening as you leaned backward, “If I take you directly to the source, show you life as I lived it, then you must move to the hotel and stay for one month.”

‘Source’? What did he mean by that? And, if you agreed, you had to stay for a month? But, he was going to open himself up and share his past life with you, which meant a lot to you. 

His eyelids lowered again, something you had noticed earlier when he caught your ogling. Were they lowered in amusement? Some amateurs attempt at bedroom eyes? You could hardly think straight with how close he was to you, a hundred routes of where things could go next skimming through your mind.

Maybe that was just a delusion of yours, wanting Alastor to show more interest than just pretty flowers and a ring that he seemed to sport on you just for show. You barely knew the man, but his kindness and, oh, and that voice… you were just so impatient.

Alastor wasn’t a big physical romantic, you could tell. Which meant you needed to take things slow, respect his space and his pace. He flustered so easily when you complimented him, obviously new to the whole romantic thing in general, and that only made you want to do it again.

Which meant, it would be you that would have to make some moves this time. Even if they were small, it seemed any act of affection would send the deer demon into a tizzy. A kiss on the cheek? Too brazen. A flower crown for his antlers? A little too cottage-girly for him, perhaps.

“I enjoy your excitement at my proposition,” Alastor broke you from your thoughts, as he smiled widely at your dopey expression again, “But I’ll need you to agree with words, darling.”

You really needed to learn to keep your facial expressions in check, it was embarrassing how easily Alastor had been able to catch you mid-daydream so easily. 

“...Okay.” You finally whisper, and energy crackles inside the room right as the words leave your lips.

“Wonderful!” Alastor beamed, rising from the chair in one smooth motion, his good hand wrapping around your forearm suddenly before pulling you up beside him.

Blinking, you felt him slip an arm around yours before tugging you across the room. The jazz from the radio seemed to increase in volume the closer the two of you stepped closer to the pocket dimension a few feet away.

You halted right at the edge, the croaking from the frogs, and distant calls of the owl grew louder as you lifted your head towards the looming trees. The sky was starless, a large, dark blue shadow masking the scene at night as the fireflies danced. What was Alastor planning?

“Just a moment, I need to grab my cane,” he left your side, walking back to the fireplace as your gaze stayed frozen on the swampy atmosphere ahead. 

You leaned forward, trying to get a better look around the weird little pocket-dimension. Even the air inside changed, you could practically taste the humidity in the air as it began to stick to your forehead.

Did the grass still feel like grass, even in a powerful illusion like this? You had no idea Alastor was capable of this kind of magic, especially such vivid scenery. Slowly, you lifted a foot over where brown wood melted into greenery, still hesitant to touch the strange grass.

You held a breath as you crossed the threshold, the sounds of grass crunching beneath as you walked into the wetland. You could feel the water in the soil squelching as you walked slowly, towards nowhere in particular as you twisted your head at the unfamiliar area. 

Thick, swampy vines curled around large trunks and snaked into deep, mucky waters. The way was illuminated by the flickering bodies of fireflies as they danced almost rhythmically to the soft jazz in the background. Sometimes, the surface of the water nearby would ripple, and you swore the shadow of a long body of something stalking underneath the surface passed right next to you.

When you turned to face the line of trees in the distance, two pairs of glowing, yellow eyes met yours. A silhouette of a four-legged creature, tall with branching antlers that tickled at the leaves above its head. The two of you locked eyes for a few moments, and you opened your mouth slightly in awe as it stood elegantly before you.

“My, you are quite a wanderer!” A chipper voice exclaimed behind you, and you pivoted with a yelp to face the static-laced voice smiling softly toward you.

“This place is really amazing,” you laughed, twisting your head to find the buck had disappeared, “It actually feels like we’re back on Earth, almost.”

“It gets better,” Alastor hummed beside you, extending a hand that you accepted with gentle fingers as he grasped you softly.

“Well, how do I look?” He leaned closer to you, puffing his chest slightly as you skimmed across his pretty figure.

Your hands tentatively lifted to adjust the slightly angled black bowtie near his collar, and Alastor only watched you carefully as you fixed it back into place. 

“Perfect,” you sang with a smile, and he mimicked your expression with glee.

“Always a charm, my doe.” Alastor winked, before he slid his arm through yours once more and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside you. 

His smile was playful, as he glanced at you standing tense beside him. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going to teleport you again, or do something magically stomach-twisting that had you wishing for a paper bag on the side.

“Now, close your eyes…” 

You followed his instruction, squeezing them shut with a deep breath.

You barely had time to exhale before the wind around you turned to a deathly chill, and the humidity was zapped from the air as that familiar feeling of weightlessness had you tightening your hold on Alastor.

You felt him shifting beside you, although you couldn’t imagine into what as your eyes stayed shut tight, cold gripping at your shoulders. It felt like the ground was alive, transforming right beneath you with barely a tremble as you held your breath tightly. 

Then, your ears popped and you felt the grass beneath your feet shift to firm, rocky pavement. There was music, jazz again, but this time the words were audible as women's voices sang with the bumping rhythm. 

‘I’m just a little Jackie Horner,’

‘Since I met my sugar cane,’ 

“Are you going to keep your eyes shut the entire time?” Alastor prodded beside you, his tone laced with amusement as you relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice. 

Taking a deep breath, you crack an eyelid, the darkened atmosphere easy on your vision as you slowly open your eyes to reveal a scene straight out of a history book. 

You were standing in the middle of a cracked, paved road, illuminated by a stretch of tall lamps that cast warm orange tones across the street. Buildings with tall shutters for windows beckoned an invisible finger for you to follow, as spicy, southern food hit your nostrils and the sounds of riled entertainment reached your ears.

‘I left a light lamp on that old corner,’

‘For the moon in lover’s lane,’ 

They all held porches that spanned the entire front of the house-sized buildings. Darkened, silhouetted figures laughed above your head, as you stood there in awe. 

There were a few cars parked on the sides of the street, with thin, flimsy wheels reminding you of distant times when vehicles were just starting to reach the public eye. 

It really felt like you had stepped into the past, everything reminisced to a world before TVs, social media, and WiFi. When newspapers and radios ruled supreme, people came together and danced on the streets instead of dancing behind the camera on silly apps. 

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’ 

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’ 

“Welcome to New Orleans in Roarin’ Twenties!” Alastor beamed beside you, gesturing to the long row of storefronts, the air humming with lively energy and pulsing with vibrant rhythms of tunes long forgotten. 

You jumped at the sound of a baritone horn blaring from beside you. A steamboat filled with flickering lights and singing, boisterous voices chugged past you, its large wheel churning as water cascaded from the paddles. 

A figure turned to you, masked in shadows before they raised an arm and waved across the water towards you. Your lips curved wider with a smile, before lifting a cautious hand and returning the gesture.

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’ 

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’ 

You felt someone bump into your shoulder, another one of those mysterious figures that filled the street. 

“‘Scuse me, miss,” the stranger tipped his hat apologetically to you, bowing slightly as he brushed by.

‘So I never take her where the gang goes,’ 

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’

You twisted your head to finally get a good look at the strangers around you, before your eyes widened at the sight of a doll-like man, his mouth sewn into a wide smile. Black buttons glinted at you from where his eyes should have been, as the man placed his hat back on and turned away. 

You didn’t have time to process the sight before Alastor was pulling you down the street, a live band played outside one bar, the paint mashing keys to a much faster rhythm as two women swung each other across the sidewalk with laughter and the clicking of heels. 

Alastor pulled you along until the two of you stopped at a bakery storefront. Shadowed puppets flowed around you, as your eyes landed on a steaming plate of deep-fried goodness sitting patiently on a table right outside the doorway. 

“Beignets,” He hummed, handing you a pastry, “A cultural classic in these parts.”

‘I’m a rowdy dowdy, that’s me,’

It reminded you of a tiny pillow, sugar coating its surface as you squished the crunchy delicacy before lifting it to your lips.

Taking a bite, the warmth of the bread bloomed across your body as the food traveled down your throat. Your tongue reached out to swipe at the leftover sugar hanging on your lips, as you smiled with pleasure. 

‘She’s a high hat baby, that’s she,’

Alastor only watched you with a soft expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you fill your mouth.

“You seem to be enjoying that,” he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth still partially occupied by the delicious treat. “It’s amazing! I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pastry.

“Well, there’s a lot of things you have yet to experience, my doe!” He sang, before tugging you along with a static-laced chuckle.

As the two of you strolled down the bustling street, your eyes caught a small crowd surrounding a man in a tall, black hat as he smiled charmingly at the audience.

The magician, dressed in a dapper suit adorned with intricate patterns, stood before a small crowd, his hands moving with precision and finesse as he dazzled onlookers with his feats of magic.

Curiosity piqued, you and Alastor paused to watch the spectacle unfold. The magician’s fingers danced across a deck of cards with effortless grace, manipulating them in ways that seemed impossible. Cards vanished into thin air only to reappear in unexpected places, leaving the crowd gasping in amazement.

Alastor only glanced at you unamusingly, and you laughed softly at his facial expression. Magic card tricks were nothing in comparison to what he was capable of, and you were sure he could wow this illusionary crowd in a heartbeat.

The two of you turned, halfway down the street now, as Alastor pointed at a few different sights. He even introduced you to instruments you’d never heard of before as the two of you continued on. 

“Have you ever performed?” You turned to him, another southern treat in your hand as you kept pace underneath the gas-lit lamps above. 

“On the streets? No, not like this,” Alastor shook his head, his nails clicking against his cane rhythmically with the music wafting from a bar nearby as the two of you stood near the edge of the river. 

You had gotten your hands on a small cup of Duchess Potatoes, a light, creamier version of the classic spud. Placing a small spoonful in your mouth, you swirled the flavors across your taste buds as you watched Alastor stare out at the open expanse of water.

“Once in a while, I’d stop at an old friend of mine’s jazz club, and on the nights I had a few extra drinks in my system, I'd lend my voice to the flappers as they danced.” 

“That sounds like fun!”

“It was,” He nodded, recounting the memories with amusement, “Mimzy would always tease me that I'd make better use as a flapper than a radio host. Sometimes, I think about life if I would have 

You laughed softly, imagining such a scene of Alastor dancing in a high skirt and fishnets. 

It wasn’t until the doors to a bar at the end of the street burst open, and large instruments were dragged through the threshold and out into the streets. Men gathered, readying their musical weapons for another nightly show as onlookers turned their attention to them. 

“Do you hear that?” He asked with a large, devilish smile as he turned to face the small crowd gathering. Couples glided in, teasing each other as they paired around the pianist and his band of stringed instruments. You watched his ears twitch slightly, twisting towards the rising noises.

“It looks like they are all going to dance!” You replied next to him, and Alastor turned to see interest gleaming in your gaze. He watched you for a few moments, before his crimson eyes landed on a trolly that was moving its way down the large street and towards the band.

You felt fingers lace around your wrist, and the gentle tugging from beside you as you met Alastor’s mischievous gaze.

“Let’s make sure we don’t miss it, then!” He winked, before he pulled you towards the lumbering vehicle. 

With wide eyes, you watched Alastor take a running start and gracefully leap onto the back of the trolley, hanging tightly to the railing as he beckoned for you to join.

You watched for a moment, before taking a deep breath and running to catch up with the trolly. Laughing, you reached out a hand to grasp Alastor’s as you closed in on the back of the vehicle.

You felt a sizzle of magic drag you an inch forward, and your fingers laced with Alastor’s as he pulled you beside him. He snaked one hand securely around your waist as you leaned out from the side of the vehicle, the wind whipping against your face as you watched the street lights flicker past. 

“I used to time myself on how fast I could make it on,” Alastor’s voice broke you from your awe, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure if I've improved since my younger days.” 

You only smiled softly, the proximity of his touch hot on your mind, but you didn’t speak a word as the trolley continued on its path, the bar’s lights flashing with life as you beelined towards it. 

The trolley was fast, as it sped by the large steamboat, which honked as if in greeting to the passing vehicle. The trolley replied with a jingle of its own, before the boat disappeared farther down the river.

The trolley began to slow a few feet from the band, which you were thankful for, unsure if you had the physical form to tuck and roll successfully had you needed to make a quick exit.

Alastor landed on the pavement with a thump, twisting his grip so he could help you down with both hands firmly placed at your sides. 

“Let’s hurry before we miss it!” He sang, before pulling you along towards the crowd. The pianist thrummed the keys, inciting the dancers to twirl faster and they were lost in a hypnotic bustle of bodies fluidly maneuvering against each other. The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed along with the drumming beat, twisting in a tune of its own creation as you and Alastor moved closer.

But, why did it look like he was going to pull you in the center? Weren’t the two of you just going to stand back and watch? 

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions before you were in the center of the dancing couples. You froze with the spotlight on you, the jazz ringing in your ears as your shoulders softly pumped to the music.

Alastor took your hands carefully, his legs beginning to move in practiced motion as you stood there awkwardly.

“I can’t dance!” You squeaked. 

“It’s the Charleston, darling!” His voice cut through the romping rhythm, sending you a charming grin as he began to move his feet, “It’s not too hard, just follow my lead!” 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves as you focused on Alastor’s movements. His feet moved with precision and fluidity, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. You tried to mimic his steps, clumsily at first, but with each passing moment, you found yourself growing more confident as you fell into sync with his rhythm.

As the music swirled around you, you lost yourself in the dance, allowing Alastor to guide you with gentle precision. His hands were warm and reassuring against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you moved together in perfect harmony.

The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed in time with the drumming beat, creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to envelop you in its embrace. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the dance.

With each step, each turn, you felt yourself letting go of your inhibitions, allowing the music to flow through you like a river. You spun and twirled with glee, lost in the intoxicating energy of the moment, a smile spreading across your face as laughter bubbled up from deep within your chest.

As the song reached its climax, you and Alastor moved as one, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of movement and sound. In that fleeting moment, there was no past or future, no worries or doubts – there was only the here and now, the exhilarating rush of the dance, and the feeling of Alastor’s touch against your skin. 

As the music faded into the night, you found yourself breathless and exhilarated, your cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. You turned to Alastor with a grin, your eyes shining with newfound confidence.

“I can’t believe I just did that!” You exclaimed, the thrill of the dance still coursing through your veins. Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze warm and affectionate as he tilted his head towards you. 

“You were marvelous, my dear,” he replied, his voice filled with pride. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as extraordinary as you.”

You returned the smile, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swayed next to him. The music was beginning to die, the scene slowly falling away as the grass began to replace the tiled, stone pavement under your feet. 

Never did you imagine you’d find yourself dancing near glistening waters, eating the delicacies that the human world once had to offer. 

Never did you imagine, Alastor would be such a good dancer! And, dancing with you, no less! 

“I think my hunger for information has been quenched, for now,” you smiled playfully, eyes locked onto Alastor as the world around you shifted. 

“Good,” Alastor smiled satisfactorily, before a mischievous glint reflected through his monocle, “Now… I believe it's time to hold up your end of the deal.” 

Right. The part where you had to move into the hotel. One month. Not a year, not forever, just one month. Couldn’t you decide by then? 

Yes, you could. You could come to a decision now, honestly, but something else was itching at the back of your mind. An act of affection that would no doubt get a reaction from the demon in front of you. 

“I think you’re onto something…” You nodded slowly, pulling Alastor's hand toward you with a sly smile.

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at your behavior, as his fingers lifted closer and closer towards your lips. 

With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Alastor’s breath caught in his throat, a startled look crossing his features as he watched you with wide eyes.

Finally, the roles had reversed. 

For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held his hand in yours, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The touch of your lips against his skin sent a fire igniting inside Alastor, one he was struggling to contain. 

A flush of color spread across his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability that took you by surprise. His usual composed demeanor faltered for just a moment, revealing the depth of emotion hidden beneath the surface.

“Y-you…” Alastor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched for the right words. But before he could find them, he was interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing in the distance, the moment broken by the world slowly shifting around you.

Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Alastor withdrew his hand from yours with careful movements. 

“Well, I suppose we should be getting your things,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. But the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed the lingering effects of your gesture.

Behind him, the fireplace illuminated the non-magical side of Alastor’s room, the vintage clock displaying arms that had barely moved an inch since you left on your little adventure. 

“Seems so,” you replied with a honeyed tone, batting your eyelashes at him as he adjusted his bowtie with clumsy fingers.

If you had looked down while flustering the poor man, you’d have noticed his tail high, white fur on full display behind him. Instead, you brushed past him and back into the confines of normalcy.

awwww man, we made it, alastor finally has his girl staying at the hotel! and a lil kissy kiss :3

i hope you guys could understand what was going on lmao i spent like an hour or two looking up pictures of new orleans, southern food, and steamboats 😂

thank you with your patience on this part, have a great day! 🤍

tags 1/2 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie @luujjvi @amoraneuro @kimmikreates

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hellaverse

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ interlude

note: this chapter is a lil shorter than usual, I just wanted to include a lil bonding moment for reader and ghost before the events of next chapter :)

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you and ghost go people watching in the local park, plus a little heart to heart

warnings: just some much needed fluff :)

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

one warm shower and a couple of ibuprofen later, you're feeling mostly human again with a manageable headache and a reasonable amount of regret for how pathetic you’d acted. with time you’d get over that, especially now that ghost had finally seen the light and started treating you with some decency. admittedly though, his change in attitude threw you off earlier; you were bracing for a stern lecture and he essentially brushed it off as though it didn't matter, but you’ve decided not to dwell on that fact.

small victories, as they say.

for the very first time, the pair of you were both sitting across from each other at the tiny kitchen table, in your own worlds; the radio was faintly playing some classic rock station in the background as ghost had his nose in his book and you played some mindless game on your phone. you’d honestly prefer to be reading a good book too, but your collection was currently ash in the wind, so this would have to do.

you're tempted to try starting a conversation, the quiet was giving you far too much room to think, but on the other hand the atmosphere is so peaceful it would be a shame to ruin it.

so you set your phone down on the table and turn your eyes to ghost, watching him scan the pages, his head tilted slightly in concentration. he's washed most of the paint from around his eyes – that was probably done yesterday, not that you noticed – so only a few smudges mark his skin. with the black paint gone, you notice the raised bumps of old scars around his eyes, something you'd never paid much attention to before. you know better than to ask, but you do wonder, in the back of your mind, the stories behind all of them. examining them gives you inexplicable urge to run your fingers over them, to soothe the ache having so many of them must cause.

his dark eyes are like black holes, drawing in your attention and refusing to let you escape their grasp. you're vaguely aware of how long you've been staring at his face, but you don't care to snap yourself out of it until he speaks up.

"what?" he grumbles, not bothering to look up from the page. you quickly look away, down to where your hands idly fiddle with your phone on the table.

"question."

"hm?" he hums in acknowledgement, but still doesn't look at you. normally you'd give up at this point, assuming he was completely uninterested in what you had to say, but this time you decide to push your luck.

"you fancy a walk to the park?"

finally, he meets your eyes, looking up through his light eyelashes and blinking once as he contemplates his answer. you resist the urge to break eye contact as he stares right through you.

"...alright." he says, wedging his bookmark between the pages and sets the book down on the table.

you weren't expecting him to say yes, but you're pleasantly surprised that he did; it felt slightly surreal that after all this time, you were finally becoming friends with ghost. your eyes follow him as he stands, leaving the room to, presumably, change his mask while you sit there with a bewildered look on your face.

a minute or so passes before you hear his voice again. "you comin'?" he calls from the entryway, bringing you back to the present.

"oh– yeah, one second!" you jump up from your chair and rush to get ready as well. the grin you wore as you rushed past him to fetch your jacket was unconscious, the feeling lighting up your features and overshadowing and lingering thoughts from the night before.

a few moments later you're tugging your boots on and you're both walking out the door together, side by side. for once it's actually a nice day, so the short walk to the park is a pleasant one under the blue sky and warm sunlight.

"sorry again, for last night. i think that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life." you look over to ghost with an apologetic expression, and you can't help but feel that the expression he gives back is one of amusement despite not being able to see half his face.

"that's twice you've screamed at me now." he says, keeping pace with you for a change rather than marching ahead as he usually does.

"i didn't scream at you!" you attempt to defend yourself, but thinking back on it you change your mind. "alright, the second time maybe i did,"

"maybe."

"but the first time, i was very collected." you continue. "it was quite satisfying, to be honest."

"i suppose i deserved it." his gaze falls to the ground and, even though he's right – he did deserve it – you do feel a little bad.

"seriously, though," you continue, "thank you, for looking after me last night. you didn't have to, and i know you didn't want to, but i really appreciate it."

"anyone would'a done the same…" he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. you get the feeling he's not used to people showing their appreciation for him, which only encourages you to carry on.

"and thanks for taking me in, i know having some random idiot in your house is the last thing you want." you give him a warm smile as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

"well, you're not just any idiot, are you?" he says, earning a questioning tilt of your head. "you're sting. the idiot."

a genuine laugh escapes you, the first one in a long time, and you gently nudge ghost's arm with your elbow.

"oh, lovely, thanks mate." you chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. you see his eyes lift in a barely noticeable smile, the sight causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest.

you arrive at the park fairly quickly, finding yourselves an out of the way bench to occupy under the partial shade of a nearby oak tree. you're enveloped by a comfortable silence as you both simply observe the beauty of nature and bask in the feeling of the sun on your face.

you're not sure how long the two of you sit there in each other's company, but you find yourself subconsciously drifting closer to him, close enough that your knees just about touch. you're sure he notices – there isn't much that gets by him – but he doesn't show it.

"did you hear they figured out how the fire started?" you keep your voice low to preserve the peaceful quiet, turning your head to look at him as you ask.

"oh yeah? how?"

"ugh…" you groan with the annoyance the memory bring up. "my stupid neighbour left a fucking candle burning all night, the twat."

"what a fuckin' idiot…" he glances briefly in your direction, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"i can never look at candles the same way again, they're tainted now." you drag a hand over your face and shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

there's another pause in the conversation as you stare ahead, watching the trees sway in the breeze and all the people going about their lives, everything cast in a golden glow from sun.

you don't want it to end, the way the two of you are now. this is the most you've ever spoken to echother, outside of arguments, and you really want to make the most of it.

"nice weather today, right?" you try to keep him talking to you, and you're considering the fact that he hasn't told you to shut up yet as a good sign.

"hm." ghost hums and leans his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. "you gonna ask me what my favourite colour is again?"

"c'mon, throw me a bone here." you turn your body to face him more. "actually what is it, though?"

"...green."

"i knew it!" you exclaim, a triumphant grin pulling at your lips. "it makes sense, you just have 'dark green' vibes."

"i'll take your word for it."

it's difficult to know what to talk about with him, seeing as you've never actually been friendly before and you've already used the only small talk question you could think of.

"hmm…" your eyes roam over the park, looking for something to give you an idea. eventually you land on a scrappy little white dog, with possibly the worst haircut you've ever seen. "look at that woman's dog," you point it out to ghost, snickering at the way it was resisting its owner as she pulled it along. "i feel bad for the little guy."

"is that a dog? thought it was an oversized rat."

"oh my god!" you snort a laugh, covering your mouth with a hand and throwing your head back. you hear ghost chuckle lightly beside you, and when you turn your head to look back at him you find him already looking at you.

all other thoughts leave your mind when you see how his eyes glow a golden colour in the light of the sun. you feel the tips of your ears heating up and quickly face forward again before he has a chance to notice.

luckily another distraction presents itself almost immediately, in the form of a well-dressed office worker sprinting past you at full speed.

"wow," you mutter, your eyes following him as he disappears around a bend in the path, "he's not hangin' about."

"maybe he left a candle burnin'." ghost looks back to you, a playful glint in his eyes you're not sure you've ever seen on him.

you can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his terrible joke. "aw, ghost," you groan, gently shoving him as he chuckles at your reaction, "you're wrong for that one."

ghost slouches into the bench as you both look back out across the park, shifting so his thigh presses against yours ever so slightly. you're careful not to react, afraid that he'd pull away if you draw attention to the gesture, and resolve to just enjoy the rare closeness of his presence.

eventually you'd have to head back, but for now you were more than content to sit here and watch the world go by with him.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling

if your name is crossed out, it means i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

[luvxkdrama]

— destiny

pairing : chishiya x reader

warnings : mentions of blood and guns

word count : 1.2k

summary : He finds you unconscious at the place where he usually stays

a/n : season 2 spoilers (mentions of Chishiya’s past)

—

It was another successful game for Chishiya, who was now on his way back to his place. Although he solves the games easily, they tire him a lot so afterwards he wishes nothing more than to fall into the arms of Morpheus.

As he was walking down the road, he noticed small stains of blood that lead directly to his hiding place. It didn’t faze him, however he was intrigued where they possibly came from.

Chishiya slowly went up the stairs and the cold air was filled with a strangely familiar, floral smell. However, he couldn’t really tell where he knew it from.

When he entered the dark room, he slightly flinched at the sight in front of him. Blood was dripping down your arms and legs while you were laying unconscious on his mattress. Chishiya could tell you were asleep but your heavy breaths indicated that the wounds didn’t let you rest peacefully.

“Well, that was certainly unexpected.” He commented and was about to leave the room when he suddenly noticed something.

The room was swamped in darkness but thanks to the moonlight, he perceived a shiny bracelet on your left wrist. Chishiya frowned at the accessory, remembering how he gave the exact same one to his lover before he joined the Borderland.

It was a gift for your one year anniversary so he wanted to find something special and unique. Chishiya found a beautiful bracelet and when he went to buy it, the seller told him there were only two bracelets like this in Japan so your boyfriend knew he found the perfect gift.

Chishiya rolled up his sleeve and looked at his wrist which had the exact same bracelet that he saw on you. While he was carefully analysing them both, Chishiya suddenly felt a gun against his forehead.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, weakly seeing the person that was crouching down in front of you.

“I can ask you the same thing. That’s the place where I usually stay at.” He chuckled, amused by the situation.

Your heart skipped a beat after hearing his voice that was strangely familiar to the man you fell in love with, before you were thrown in this horrific world. Without wasting time, you reached to grab a flashlight and gasped when you recognised Chishiya.

He was blinded by the sudden light so you caught him off guard when you threw yourself in his arms, making you fall on top of him while his back hit the ground.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You sighed, burying your face in the crock of his neck.

“Y/N?” He whispered, finally recognising your voice.

Chishiya ran his fingers through your hair and took in your floral scent that made him feel at home.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, gently grabbing your face in between his hands. “You should be in our house, peacefully reading your favourite book or dancing to the random songs you hear on the radio, not here brushing against death in some stupid games.” He groaned, not bearing the thought of losing you.

“I’m sure I’ll be safe now that I’m with you.” You smiled at him and leaned in to connect your lips together.

He wouldn’t admit it but you knew he missed you as much as you did by how firmly his arms were wrapped around your waist.

You completely forgot about your multiple wounds until Chishiya’s felt something warm and wet dripping down his hand and he immediately remembered the state he found you in.

“Wait here.” He helped you lay down on the mattress and went to grab the first aid kit he found in a store, while you turned on the small lamp you brought with you.

Although Chishiya saw your whole body more than once, he couldn’t help but get flustered at the sight of it after you took off your shirt that was practically soaked in blood and your pants.

“When does your visa end?” He asked while cleaning up the wounds.

“In three days. Today’s game was a mess that’s why I have a blood everywhere. The group against which my team was playing would throw the most random things at us and fight with us afterwards. Only three people out of 16 survived, so it’s honestly a miracle I’m now here talking with you.” You softly caressed his cheek.

“From now on, we’ll participate in games together. If one day, only one of us will have to survive, it will be you.” He seemed completely calm as such words rolled out of his mouth.

“We both know how much smarter you are than me so there’s a much higher chance that you’ll finish all the games. I want you to go back to the real world and start a family like you’ve always dreamed of. I’m sure you’d find someone that would fill your life with love.” Your own words hurt you but at the same time, you truly hoped the best for him.

“I don’t want to finish my life with someone else, I want you.” He protested and went back to clean your wounds in silence.

You noticed his bracelet and smiled at the fact he brought one for him as well in order to have matching accessories.

When you first started dating, he wasn’t fond of physical touch or matching couple things but with time he changed, after realising how safe and loved he felt in your company. Chishiya also realised how pleasant someone’s touch can be and how his death didn’t scare him if it meant the person he loves would survive.

Now, one of his hands gently caressed your skin to take your mind away from the wounds that could possibly be hurting you.

“Your wounds aren’t too deep but you have to rest a lot for them to heal quickly.” He put the first aid kit away.

“Thank you, doctor.” You chuckled and planted a soft kiss on his lips once he came back.

“I’ll bring you something to eat.” He was about to get up but you quickly wrapped your hands around his wrist.

“Stay here with me, we’ll eat later.”

Chishiya couldn’t resist so he laid down next to you on the mattress, being extremely careful to not hurt you. You couldn’t help but put your head on his chest and intertwine your legs together. Your sudden clinginess made Chishiya smile and he gently ran his fingers through your head, knowing how much it helped you to fall asleep.

“I love you.” You whispered, slowly drifting off to sleep.

His soft kiss on your head spoke a thousand words at once and you knew it was his way of saying it back.

As long as you had him by your side, you believed everything will be alright.

#chishiya imagine #chishiya icons #chishiya fluff #aib chishiya #chishiya headcanons #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya angst #chishiya fic #chishiya x you #Chishiya #alice in borderland #arisu imagine

[skyeslittlecorner]

Thank you! Very relatable request, honestly. Where can I buy such a demon to protect me too-

This reminded me of my era of rewatching analogue-horror web-series, you have no idea how terrified I was when I was watching Vita Carnis and suddenly my roommate burst into the room at 2 AM. Nomorehorrors.

Satan isn't surprised that you're having panic attacks. Gehenna is the most wonderful place in Hell, but the angels do not want to leave them alone. The attacks occur so frequently and so randomly that it's no wonder you feel uneasy. He would pull you back into bed and hold you against his chest, stroking you protectively. “You're in no danger with me.” His low voice is confident and strong, as are his arms. Even if the world were to burn, you are the first to be protected, so you don't have to be afraid. Besides, this guy sleeps with his eyes open. He's probably the one you should be most afraid of. They glow like headlights, so you don't have to be afraid of something moving in the dark, because there is no darkness here.

Mammon will hug you to his huge tits. How can you feel insecure when you have such a steady rock with you? Stable as a wall, warm as a heater, and protects your back (and bottom) as solidly as anyone else in the world. But if you're afraid, he'll put a huge canopy over your bed. Not even a mosquito can get through the curtains of gold. Another thing is that it's a bit hard to sleep in the golden glow, but hey, it's the will that count, right? And you can count on your every doubt being answered in the most spectacular way.

Beelzebub is the reason your paranoia hasn't gone away yet. You're lying nicely in bed, and suddenly something crawls under the sheets and cuddles up to you. Absolutely terrifying. You would jump out of bed, but the strong hug prevents you from doing so, and also you quickly recognize the disgruntled growl. The wandering king has finally appeared. You punch him for it. Two puppy dog eyes will look at you, and how can you be mad at him? “Sorry… I missed you.” He murmurs apologetically into your chest. You will sigh and bury yourself in the sheets and cuddle up to this idiot, wrapped tightly in the duvet so that no more surprises will come.

Leviathan, when he feels you're anxious, will simply close the coffin lid. Of course, you sleep closer to the closed edge, so that you can see the gap behind him. If you see anything moving beyond it, those are tentacles. They may look scary, but they are there to protect you. Why are you afraid of nightmares when their ruler hugs you to his chest like his treasure? Your nightmares should be afraid of him. He has the power to bend them to his will. Nothing can hurt you… but him. Better is the known danger than the one that lurks in the dark, so you'll only hug your beautiful king of nightmares tighter.

Valefor is as reliable as Mammon, but he would take care of you in a slightly less spectacular (or shiny) way. He will spread his shield over the bed. You saw that nothing could squeeze through it; bah! if it tries, it will be annihilated. If you think this is too much, he will simply offer to turn on the light, check the wardrobe and under the bed, and give you his chest to lie on until you fall asleep. He will watch over you, patiently and lovingly stroking your hair and arm, until he feels that you are already breathing calmly and sleeping deeply. Only then would he gently wrap you in the blanket and fall asleep himself.

Stolas offers to kill it. You don't actually know how to kill a paranoia, but you know he would be capable of it. You decline this offer in case what you thought you saw was Amon. All you can do is hug him when he explains you that monsters do not exist, if they do exist, they can be killed, so there is no point in being afraid, especially when you are with him, because he will fight everything for you, blah blah blah… You will fall asleep, soothed by listening to his chatter like radio static.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb valefor #whb stolas #skye's little talk

[urfavlarry]

Alastor x insomniac!reader

A/N: this one is a bit short since i didn’t really have ideas to make this longer but I think it turned out pretty well! and reader is gender neutral<3

warnings: swearing,mentions of abuse, reader having nightmares, bad grammar

genre: slight angst but mostly fluff :3

summary: reader had nightmares and goes for a walk to the hotels library not many residents know of! And you just happen to come across the radio demon himself

3rd person POV

You stir in your sleep, you’ve been trying to fall asleep for 4 hours now and its currently 3am. You groan and turn towards the clock beside you on the bedside table. You close your eyes and you finally drift off into a slumber.

You wake up in a home, your home from when you were alive. You sit up from the floor you were sitting down and look down. You were a human again and you were sitting in the bathroom. You suddenly hear yelling and banging and you quickly open the bathroom door and run down the stairs, running down the hall to the kitchen. Your eyes widen as you see your father and mother yelling and you back up towards the wall. Your father notices you and starts screaming foul things at you and you try to get out of the room but he grabs a fist full of your hair and pushes you into the kitchen. You curl up into a ball and cry to yourself when you suddenly jolt awake, tears streaming down your face. “Fuck..” You choke out and quickly wipe your tears as you sob and bring your knees to your chest. You look at the time and only 17 minutes passed from when you last fell asleep. You sigh and swing your legs from the bed and go grab some socks. You put them on and leave your room and lock it behind you, putting the keys into your pjs pocket.

You walk down the hall to the elavator and go up to the highest floor where the library is. You’ve never really seen anyone go up there other then Charlie when she brings new books that she things you would be interested in. So it was your quiet spot for when you had a lot on your mind and wanted some time for yourself. You feel the elavator stop so you walk down the dark hallway and open the library doors. They were old and had beautiful rose carvings in it with golden touches here and there. You smile softly at the sight as you walk into the library but your smile drops when you see someone had turned on the light. “Someone is here.” You think to yourself and sigh in annoyance but walk on the old red carpet that was on the library’s floor. The library was big, the center was in a circle shape and had two long halls filled with bookshelves and some seating areas. In the center an old chandelier hung from the ceiling that had beautiful renaissance inspired art with more carvings of roses. It also had two floors full of every book you could think of from the living world and hell aswell.

Your vision was a bit blurry since the light only lit up the center so you quickened your pace when you suddenly saw a familiar pair of red ears. Your breath hitches and you stop and freeze in your place. No you didn’t really have a problem with Alastor but you were quite scared of him to say the least. He was a feared Overlord after all. You look away for a second and look back but you notice the pair of ears disappeared. You look around in a slight panic when you feel a presence behind you. You step back slightly and you hit someones chest and turn around im a swift movement and see the familiar sinister smile that everyone was so scared of.

“Good evening dear, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” Alastor asks with his usual grin, putting away the book he was reading that was now long forgotten. He straightens his suit, dusting himself off and looks back at you awaiting your answer. “I um couldn’t sleep, so I just wanted to come here to maybe pass some time.” He hums in acknowledgement and studies your figure like you were his next meal, which wouldn’t surprise you if you were. Your eyes were red and puffy from you crying and you looked quite shaken, still having the nightmare fresh in your mind. “Well I suppose I wont push you to tell me more, how about I read to you so we can pass the time together? Come along now darling I won’t take no for an answer.~” He says turning around to go grab the book he was reading and goes to sit down at one of the many seating areas in the library, expecting for you to follow behind. You sit down next to Alastor, making sure to keep your distance since you knew he was a bit.. how do you put this lightly? Bitchy, when someone invaded his personal space.

He eyes you for a second, opening his mouth to say something but decided against it and opens the book, making sure to start from the beginning so you’re not confused about anything. You listen to him closely, imagining the characters and scenes as if you were in the book yourself. You slowly start to tune him out, your eyes and head feeling heavy as you fight back a yawn. Your head starts to dip to the side and your consciousness starts to slip out of your grasp.

Alastors POV

My ears perk up, when I suddenly feel weight on my lap. I lift the book up a bit and see Y/N laying in my lap. “I guess they finally found peace in their dreams after all.” I think to myself and put the book away, playing with their soft hair. I stop myself and rethink my actions; “Why is it that I don’t mind their touch? Why am I feeling this way? I’m a feared Overlord? Am I perhaps going soft?” I think to myself and look down at the sleeping demon once again. Their soft snores echo slightly through the library and I sigh, smiling softly.

“I’ll let it slide, just this once.” I roll my eyes and pick up the book once again and continue where I left off.

3rd person POV

Charlie walks through the halls of the hotel with seversls books in her hand, Vaggie helping her out not wanting her girlfriend to struggle all by herself. They walk to the elavator and go up to the library. Vaggie raises a brow as she has never really been to this part of the hotel and walks down the hall to the old doors. They open it and walk in, noticing the light was on and see the familair deer demon from a distance. Vaggie rolls her eyes, mumbling some incoherent Spanish words Charlie doesn’t even bother trying to understand, knowing it’s probably just profanities towards Alastor.

As the walk closer they find a familiar demon laying their head on Alastors lap and Vaggie takes out her spear, ready to slit the radio demons throat when suddenly Alastor brings his pointer finger to his lisp, shushing the couple; “Shh, they’ve had a tough night, it’s best if we let the poor dear sleep the day away if they wish.” He says in a hushed tone and grins at the couple, maybe slightly glaring at the angered woman pointing a sharp spear towards him. Charlie nods and fights back her squeals and places the books down carefully in their spots, Vaggie helping her out but still glances your way just in case the sadistic Overlord tries anything. Alastor just stares right back, sometimes even making himself look a bit more terrifying with the radio dials and creepy smile, returning back to normal the moment Charlie looks his way. They leave the room shortly after and you start to wake up from the sound of doos shutting.

You groan a bit and go to sit up when you see you’re not in your room like usual and that you slept a bit too peacefully today. You look up and see the radio demon grinning up at you and you flinch back, almost falling off the coach you were sleeping on a few moments ago.

You yelp and quickly stand up to get away from the man, not wanting to face him after sleeping on him the whole night when he suddenly speaks up; “Don’t be afraid to come find me again when you have trouble sleeping my dear, i’d be more then happy to help you fall asleep once more, maybe make this a routine, hm?” Your breath slightly hitches and you just nod, speed walking away and leave the library, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than you already were.

Alastor smiles to himself, hoping you would take his offer up and that you really would make this a routine.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fluff #fluff #alastor #hazbin hotel vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust #alastor x reader #x reader #reader insert #gn reader

[gtgbabie0]

Hey I saw your requests were open :)

How about regulus slow dancing with reader in their bedroom/kitchen? I’m a sucker for how well you write for him 😭

-Regulus Black x reader

{Slow dancing with Regulus black}

Thank you for the request, Hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Regulus didn’t live with you, although it certainly felt like he did. Little reminders of him scatter throughout your house, woven through the halls and rooms. His clothes claim a small section of your closet, his toothbrush sits beside yours and you’ve even stacked up on his favourite snacks.

That’s why you don’t fret when your front door opens with a heavy creak whilst you potter around the kitchen. He calls out your name softly as he closes the door behind him, hanging his coat up and kicking off his shoes.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You call out softly and a small smile breaks out on his lips at the sound of your sweet voice. He was finally home where he belonged, by your side just how it should be.

There’s no hesitation as Regulus walks through the kitchen, his hands immediately tugging you into him by your hips. “I’ve missed you.” He sighs as he rests his head in the crook of your neck with a soft groan.

He’s much less reserved around you now than when you two first started dating. He seeks out your warmth without a second thought, ignoring the small protests of insecurity that shout at him.

“I’ve missed you too.” You smile softly as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him closely to you whilst his hands rest against the small of your back.

He pulls back slightly to admire you, the stress from his expression melts away instantly as he drinks in the sight of you. How the warm lights of the kitchen dust against your skin. There’s a certain glow to you that lights up his heart and soul… you breathe life into him again.

He watches your smile turn more shy under his loving gaze. Your eyes flicker away from him, but he’s quick to catch your jaw in his hand ever so softly, making you look back over at him, his thumb caresses your cheek.

“Dinners just cooking… your favourite.” You tell him, quickly trying to move the conversation on so he doesn’t make a teasing remark about your sudden shyness.

He glances over to the oven then back down to you, there’s a gleam of admiration that swims within in his dark eyes. He’s still not used to it, the volumes in which you care for him and he’s not sure he ever will be.

“Thank you, mon amour.” Regulus whispers before pressing a soft sweet kiss to your lips, his smile breaks the kiss off and he pulls back slightly to admire you once more.

There’s a certain peacefulness that you bring to him, you seem to quell the emotions that bundle up inside him. He stands there holding you closely as the gentle melodies play from your small radio.

A kiss against his cheek breaks him out of the trance he seems to be lost in. “Dinner is still cooking... do you want to dance with me?” You ask softly as you rest a delicate hand against his shoulder, looking up at him those pretty eyes of yours and a smirk that teeters against your lips.

He completely melts at the sight. “Of course, angel.” He breathes as if you’ve knocked the air out of him, his hand finding your hips as he begins to gently sway with the melody of the music.

All those ballroom dance lessons paid off, except this is much less intense than when he was a child. It’s a slow-paced one, that doesn’t carry the same pressure as he once remembers, no judging eyes to tell him that his form is off… he can breathe.

You feel his shoulders relax slightly and a certain playfulness flashes through his eyes as he spins you around before bringing you back into his chest, his hands squeezing your hips softly.

The sounds of your sweet laughter fill the kitchen as you both dance, socked feet bumping together every so often and he tuts at you teasingly every time.

“You’re beautiful” He whispers, his hand resting against your cheek and his heart swells when he feels you lean into the warmth of his palm and he knows you’re the one… his heart belongs to you forever and always. "I love you" he breathes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"I love you too," you reply with a warm smile as you both continue to enjoy each other's warmth dancing together lovingly. Nothing else matters to Regulus except for the way you feel against him, just as it should be.

#regulus black #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fic #regulus black headcanons #regulus black one shot #regulus fanfiction #regulus fluff #regulus fic #regulus black fluff #regulus black imagine #regulus black oneshot #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus black blurb #regulus black drabble #regulus x reader #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #regulus imagine #regulus blurb #the marauders imagine #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders era #the marauders #the mauraders era #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dashboard Confessional

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, mild angst, smut, semi public sex. Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Billy is forced to deal with past trauma when his girlfriend's car breaks down on the side of the M1, while driving home to Nottingham for Christmas. She finds the perfect way to ease his mind.

Author's note: Day four of the Smuffmas prompts - "reassurance and car sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Her hands tighten on the steering wheel, eyes flitting nervously towards the check engine light that’s just lit up on the dashboard panel. They’re only an hour outside of Nottingham, and if she was by herself she’d simply ignore it, finish the journey, and take her crappy old Skodia Fabia to a garage in the New Year. But Billy sits in the passenger seat next to her, and she knows that that little red light will look like a fiery beacon to him, a reason to panic. The best thing she can do in this situation is pull over onto the hard shoulder and call AA Breakdown Recovery.

Billy used to joke that she’d spent more on keeping her shitty little car roadworthy than she had when she’d actually bought it. He’d insist on driving them everywhere, his Vauxhall Cavalier the more reliable of the two vehicles.

That feels like a lifetime ago now though, before the Explosive Ordnance Disposal team had pulled him from it and it had exploded into a fiery ruin in the middle of Cranstead Gardens. Billy doesn’t joke at all anymore, and he’s not gotten behind the wheel of a car since.

He has spent the last four months attending weekly therapy sessions. It’s only in the last month that he’s been willing to allow her to drive him anywhere, and that’s not before they’ve done rigorous checks of the entire car to make sure it’s safe; the wheel arches, under the bonnet, the boot, beneath the seats and in the glovebox all need to be examined thoroughly before he’ll even consider getting in.

When it had come time to arrange their annual visit to Billy’s parents’ for Christmas, he had suggested they get the train. However, a return ticket would be close to one hundred pounds each for them. She had argued they would spend less than half that on fuel if she drove, and it would save them the effort of lugging gifts all the way there, only to have to take all of the ones they inevitably receive back with them the same way - everything could just be stuffed into the boot if she drove.

He had relented eventually, and she had regretted it almost as soon as they’d gotten in the car. For the last two hours of the journey his leg has bounced anxiously, and she’s been met with snappy one word answers to each of her attempts to make conversation, despite his insistence that the radio stays off.

If she were a weaker person she’d have decided that this was all too much and ended things long ago, however, Billy is her everything, he always has been. He has never thought much of himself, but she loves him enough for the both of them. Where he sees a failure, someone that lives in the shadow of his successful older sister, she sees a man with a thousand watt smile, someone that lights up the room just by entering it. That light has dulled over the last few months, but she is determined to help it shine once more.

It’s with this in mind that she clicks on the left indicator, pulling over onto the hard shoulder, and switches the hazard lights on.

“What you doing?” Billy asks, frowning slightly as he removes his thumb from his mouth, the nail of which he’s been chewing absentmindedly on for the last few miles.

She turns the engine off, turning to him with a slight smile, an attempt to appease and keep him calm. “Check engine light’s come on, I need to ring the AA.”

“Fuck’s sake!” He seethes, unclipping his seatbelt and forcefully pushing open the passenger side door.

She watches him, illuminated in the darkness by the motorway lights, rounding the car, before stepping over the crash barrier and onto the grassy verge. Sighing, she unbuckles and climbs out.

“Billy–”

“I told you we should’ve got the fucking train!” He shouts, though there is no anger in his tone, she hears it in the wobble of his voice, sees it in the barely concealed tears he’s attempting to hold back. He’s close to breaking down.

“I know, babe, and I’m sorry,” she soothes, “I should have listened to you. But I promise you it’s nothing serious. You know how this old shitheap gets when it’s damp, remember last time it rained and the electric windows stopped working?”

It’s an attempt to lightheartedly downplay his fears, but it’s obviously unsuccessful. She watches as he fishes his cigarette packet from the pocket of his jogging bottoms, pulling one out and lighting it with shaky hands.

She takes out her phone and calls the recovery service, straining to hear over the roar of the traffic that speeds past on the M1. It’s going to be a forty five minute wait for anyone to get to them, though she should consider herself lucky, bearing in mind it’s December 23rd and there are cars nationwide breaking down on their way home for Christmas.

When she ends the call and tosses her phone onto the driver’s seat, she turns back to see that Billy is three quarters of the way through his smoke, his gaze downcast as he stands there shivering. The sight makes her heart ache.

“It’s freezing,” she calls out to him, “at least come and get your hoodie.”

She opens the door to the backseat, grabbing his Adidas zip up from it and holding it out to him. His head remains bowed, though his eyes look up at her, before he crushes his cigarette beneath his trainer and slowly walks towards her.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, slipping the hoodie on and perching on the edge of the backseat, facing out of the car, long legs stretched out in front of him.

They remain in silence for a few moments, Billy simply sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, staring at the ground, as she stands before him, looking out towards the steady stream of cars, eyes narrowed at the oncoming headlights that rush by.

“How long until you get fed up?” He finally asks, looking up at her.

“Well, I’m fed up already,” she jokes, “but we’ve gotta sit tight until someone comes to get us.”

He huffs a humourless laugh through his nose, lips quirking upwards slightly as he shakes his head. “You know that’s not what I mean. How much more of me can you hack before you finally decide I’m not worth the effort?”

“Oi,” she chastises playfully, ruffling a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. “To me, you will always be worth the effort. I’m not going anywhere.”

Billy bends his legs at the knees, planting his feet flat on the floor and pulls her between them as his arms wrap around her waist. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she says gently. “It’s been a rough few months, but we’ll get through it.

“God, I love you,” he tells her, stroking his palm across her cheek.

“Tell me again,” she smiles, leaning down to bump her nose against his.

“Love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to hers.

She kisses back, expecting it to be quick and chaste, but gasps in surprise as his hand slides from her face into her hair, gripping and anchoring her to him, as his tongue slips into her mouth. He tastes faintly of tobacco, but she responds eagerly as their mouths move together, the sensation sending heat pooling between her legs.

He leans back against the backseat, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside, dragging her with him. She giggles, pulling away breathlessly.

“Billy, we’re on the side of the motorway, anyone could see us!”

“Best give them something good to look at then,” he grins lazily up at her, fingers tugging at the waistband of her leggings.

It’s been so long since he was this uninhibited and spontaneous, that that’s all the encouragement she needs. She scrambles to pull them from one leg, as Billy lifts his hips, pushing his jogging bottoms and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

As she hovers back over him, his fingers move to push her thong to one side, and she can’t help but smile into the crook of his neck. He’s not even fully hard, though his pushes against her entrance are quickly rectifying that.

There’s no time for either of them to prepare each other properly, not for a quickie on the side of the road, so when the head of him does finally breach her opening the intrusion steals her breath away.

She whines, as each slow withdrawal and thrust upwards from him pushes him deeper, her rapidly gathering slick helping to ease his passage, until he’s fully sheathed inside of her.

He pants along with her when she moans helplessly against his shoulder as he pistons up into her, holding her steady by her hips. The tight confines of the car make it so that every drag of his cockhead brushes against the sweet spot inside of her, making her involuntarily tighten around him.

His pace becomes rushed, sloppy, and the feeling of him pulsating inside of her sends her toppling over the edge, white hot sparks of pleasure shooting through her as she spasms around him. His fingers dig into the meat of her hips as he pushes up one final time, emptying himself into her with a groan.

She shifts to move off of him, but he grips tighter, keeping her where she is. “Don’t,” he whispers breathlessly, eyes closed.

“I need to put my leggings back on, babe,” she chuckles, “I don’t think the AA bloke will appreciate the sight of my bare arse.”

“We’ve got time,” he murmurs, pulling her back to him, stroking her hair. “Just stay like this for a minute.”

She squirms, the chill of the air on her naked skin and his spend leaking out of her around his softening length making her uncomfortable, but she stays where she is. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, slowly blinking open his eyes. “It’s just…this is the first time I’ve been in a car where I haven’t thought about something horrible happening.”

Her gaze softens, and she pecks him on the cheek. “That’s good. So, what were you thinking about?”

“You, just you.”

#billy washington x reader #ewan mitchell #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x you #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #trigger point billy washington #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fan fic #trigger point #trigger point fan fiction #trigger point fanfiction #trigger point fanfic #trigger point fan fic

[simonrillleyyysss]

*+:｡DRIVING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas!

cw; p in v, masturbation (male) ,pussy eating, squirting, oral sex(m!receiving, it’s fantasy), boob licking/sucking, groping

‘Heading home for the holidays, sir?’

The soft chirp of your voice through the earpiece caused the man’s brows to furrow, cocking his head ever-so-slightly to the side in amusement, soft huffs of cold leaving his chest.

‘It’s good to see your family every once in a while, maybe even sit on Saint Nic’s lap, hm?’

You continued, smiling to yourself.

‘Y’think Santa has me on the nice list?’

It was silent for a bit, other than the soft gusts of wind and the minuscule crackles of his radio, pale eyes narrowing into thin slits as he peered through the scope of the sniper, before your voice re-erupted.

‘Known you for years, I doubt it..but it wouldn’t be unlikely.’

A soft chuckle from the blonde made you scoff, sniffling as the cold air hit you like a truck.

‘Why, you want presents? Don’t like coal?’

‘Just want to see if y’ think I’m naughty or nice, eh?’

You shrugged mindlessly, listening to the gruff voice continue.

‘Y’ naughty or nice?’

‘Depends who you ask.’

Simon hummed, chewing on his lip for a bit before responding briefly, not continuing any further.

‘Yr’ naughty.’

The next few days were eventful, staying in a musty, aged safehouse over the christmas holidays with a bunch of men wasn’t ideally anyone’s christmas fantasy, you’d envisioned yourself sitting in a pub, drinking away merry cheers with mates and friends, yet here you were—sat on a not-so sturdy chair, Ghost’s nimble fingers wrapping the cotton bandage around your bloody calf.

‘Done this before, Lieutenant?’

You enquired, watching his nose scrunch and eyes taper; glaring up at you with disinterest, your lips parting.

‘I have experience.’

‘Lots?’

A grumble left him.

‘Some.’

Then it was silent ,thick fingers tore the wrap apart—stuffing the spare rag remains in his pocket, gently patting your calf as he stood up to his full height again; looking down at your weak , and fatigued figure.

‘Go fr’ a liedown, y’need it.’

‘M’not tired, sir.’

‘I’m not fuckin’ asking.’

With a pout, you staggered up from your chair—hobbling over to a spare room within the area, mumbling under your breath about the man; limping until you were laid on the mattress, metal bedframe freaking beneath your weight as you slung the blanket over you.

Tossing and turning for minutes turned to hours, listening to the distant chatter from behind the closed door of the room, banging of boots against the floor and slams of gear down on the tables, eventually deciding on sitting up; rifling through your pocket for a pack of cigarettes, lighting the marlboro quickly and taking a puff.

‘Y’ve a deathwish?’

Simon.

You jolted for a moment, wincing in pain and cursing beneath your breath as your calf ached—looking over at the man, whom was wedged between the doorframe with crossed arms.

‘Nothing wrong with a smoke.. Especially with how things have been going.’

Snow powdered down from the sky, watching the dark roads lay with a thick sheet of fluffy , white cloud.

‘N’ how have things been going?’

‘Well..Not merry, that’s for sure.’

The male snickered, closing the door behind him as he slunk forward to sink onto the mattress, mask slipping up as he reached to take your cigarette, inhaling the tobacco.

‘What, y’want christmas trees and carollers? Maybe even some gingerbread men.’

Frowning, you slapped his arm and stoked the cigarette back, wedging it between your lips.

‘Comedian, eh? Just want it to feel like Christmas again, like..My christmas follow; Usually out drinking, fuckin’ some lad dressed up in a pub, Buyin’ gifts..It’s christmas eve eve..eve eve!’

His eyes narrowed, tugging the rough fabric of his mask back down over his nose, watching you rant to him—your lashes batting against your cheek; arms crossed as you exhaled the smoke from your nose, cigarette perched between your index and middle finger.

‘Crier.’

‘I’m not!’

‘Big, fuckin’ crier.’

Whining, you reached out to kick his arm, the man quickly slapping your calf—watching your face contort in agony, quickly chugging the cigarette into the ashtray, smushing it.

‘You’re a fuckin’ grinch, Simon!’

‘Grow up, love.’

A scoff followed, before he patted your thigh and left the room, and your hand was immediately stuffed in your panties.

Finally back.

It was a relief, and a blessing to be back at base—immediately welcomed with a much, much comfier bed in your barracks, and the constant chirping or Kyle or Johnny in your ear, finally able to pack your belongings for a decent, christmas break.

‘Packin’ already?’

Ghost interrupted, glaring at you with heavy eyes—arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Mhhmm, need t’get home and fucking go back to normal for a week at least, can’t stay here over christmas.’

‘S’pose so.’

Silence.

‘You’re manchester, right?’

He nodded.

‘Want to stay with me for christmas? Not far from my own town.’

The question caught the man off-guard, his brow cocking upwards as his head tilted forward, pausing for a second.

‘Why?’

‘You’re lonely.’

‘That’s how I like it.’

‘Bet you’d like my christmas dinner more.’

Not even a day later, the barefaced mammoth was trailing behind you as you fumbled with the front door of you apartment, key jiggling for a second before finally pushing the door open, slamming it shut behind you both.

‘Haven’t even got my decorations up— Don’t mind the mess, yeah?’

‘Mm.’

Home, felt weird to say. But good to be back, good to finally be able to sit and bathe in an actual bath, not communal showers—

‘Y’ve a cat?’

He enquired, lifting the furry feline into his arms—looking down at the animal, which he was now practically cradling in his grasp, scratching at its head.

‘Gus.’

‘Gus?’

An amused hum left the blondes lip at that, thick brows furrowed as he tilted the creature upwards, affectionately brushing his knuckles against its furry coat, dragging himself to the sofa to place Gus down, before lifting his things to put them away in your spare room.

Afterwards, the pair of you got to work putting up your decorations, which mainly consisted of simon doing all the work, putting your tree together and hanging up your lights, but you were there for moral support! Making him a nice cup of tea and sitting down on the sofa with him. You watched the beast of a human click through the channels on the tv, Gus perched upon his chest as he sipped at the minuscule mug in his hand, a soft scowl on his face—Turning your focus over to your cat, whom you’d tried to serenade over.

‘Y’got a shower, or are you one of those bath people?’

‘Both. Why?’

‘Need ta’wash.’

The brit grumbled, placing the half-empty mug down onto the glass coffeetable, rising with a low grunt, your eyes fluttering up to accommodate to his height.

‘Down the hall, first right.’

‘Cheers.’

Warmth, Simon felt warm—Properly warm, inside, for the first time in ages. Welcomed, and accommodated for so easily, how trusting were you to let your grumpy, snarky lieutenant into your humble abode so quickly? Even the cold water from the shower raining down on his chest didn’t affect this feeling.

His hands tensed up into tight fists, head hung low and knees bent as he hovered beneath the showerhead carefully, water pouring over his overgrown buzzcut, down his stubbly, scarred face and mizzled down his scarred, sacrificial body, eyes scrunched shut.

You were so quick to come to his saviour, offer him a familial shelter during the holidays, he hated it. He hated you, he hated how he enjoyed it, he hated how you were so willing to let him do anything, let him stay in your apartment, he hated everything. He especially hated how dirty he felt while pumping his cock with thoughts of you, before christmas eve,day meant for joly celebrations.

The way you would be perched on your knees, tongue hanging out like a panting puppy, hands gripping onto the sides of his bulky thighs, so willingly taking him down your throat like you would take him into your home and shelter him.

‘fuck, throats so tight, baby.’

you moaned around him with a gag, pulling back to inhale—giggling as you bobbed your head back and forth along his length, lifting a hand from his thigh to pump at his hard cock.

wetness growing between your thighs, feeling him tap his dick against the side of your cheek, saliva smearing along your jaw, shoving himself back into your mouth without any hesitation, eyes rolling back as he scrunched your hair into a makeshift ponytail, dragging your lips back and forth.

‘Simon?’

your voice rang out, knocking on the door of the bathroom as his cum spurted along the inside of his hand, wiping it off of his palm and huffing out a heavy breath, looking over at the door.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, fine,’

silence.

‘Alright, well, I left a towel on the door for you.’

And, with that, you left again; leaving the soldier to ponder with his thoughts.

Quiet, as it usually was, the man hunched over your kitchen counter, glass of water held in freehand and the other scratching at his neck, soft scowl on his face. Thinking to himself, the soft shuffle of your footsteps on wood catching his attention, a gasp leaving your lips.

‘Holy shit—Simon! You scared the fuck out of me!’

Your eyes danced over to meet his, lips parted and head cocked to the side, brows knitting upwards.

‘You okay?’

‘Peachy.’

‘..Want some drink?’

That’s how you ended up here, slouched on the sofa with the man you’d considered your superior, christmas music strumming out from your alexa, drinking away your sorrows and conversing, watching him cross his long legs—thighs bulging out of the confines of his grey trackie bottoms, jesus, was it getting hot in here?

‘What do you want Santa to get you?’

You cut through the ice, watching his pupils scan over you, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on, sir. Lightening the mood, hm?’

Simon scoffed, clinking his glass down onto the table, your own following suite.

‘I asked Santa for a magic potion.’

…

‘One that makes y’shut up for once.’

‘I’m serious! If you could ask Santa for something, it would be?’

A purse of his lips and a scrunch of his nose made you smile slightly, he’s thinking? shocking.

‘Unlimited drinks, getting laid, decent familylife.’

Nodding, you rationalised his answers, glaring over at him, kicking him with your leg, the blonde running a hand through her hair.

‘Second one’s easy, just go out to a pub n’ find someone desperate enough to fuck you.’

‘Making me sound like a badthing, you think I’m a bad shag?’

A shrug from you, and a snicker from him.

‘Not..Bad, just strange. You’re all battered n’ torn, might scare the ladies off If you’re not careful.’

‘Y’ve not ran away yet.’

‘Why?’

An unsettling stillness gagged you, brow whipping upwards as your hands fiddled with your hair, Why? You have no idea. It could be the way you’re too nice to everyone, or the way you’re so accepting, or the way you finger yourself to the thought of him every night. So many options, yet so little answers, watching Gus skim to your bedroom.

…

‘I like this song.’

‘Driving home for christmas? Yr’ a fan of Chris Rea? Or just this song?’

‘Just this song.’

A hum from him erupted, staring at you with intrigue.

‘So? Why haven’t you ran away yet?’

‘Don’t know—‘

‘Y’hoping to get a shag? Mhh?’

A chuckle from Simon left your thighs clenching together, raising your brow and scoffing dismissively, brushing him off.

‘You wish.’

His eyes narrowed, lips parting.

‘I do.’

That’s how you ended up naked on the sofa, his tongue lapping at your moist cunny, nails digging into the man’s scalp like scissors, his hands forcing your thighs apart for himself; moaning into your pussy, muffled as his lips entangled around your clit, tending to it with gentle suckles, glancing up at you through heavy eyes and a smirk.

‘Oh—Jesus, Mary and Joseph, holy hell—Siimmoonn..’

It was like heaven had blessed you with this mountain of a man who could eat pussy like it was breakfast, lunch and dinner, globs of saliva mixing with your sticky arousal and cum, nose brushing against your cunt as his tongue circled back around your folds, tattooed arm flexing as he pushed you back down into the sofa when you slightly shifted.

‘Simon—Holy..Pull backkk..hnnngfhh..’

‘Mama told me not to waste dinner.’

And within a few seconds, you were coming undone on the man’s mouth again, hips convulsing and gasping as your thighs trembled, soaking the man’s chin with squirt, a soft slap hitting your clit with a whine, looking down at him through foggy eyes— panting like a dog.

‘Simon—Your covered—‘

‘I’m a messy eater.’

Hurriedly, your hands moved to undo the drawstring on his trackies, fingers nimbly tugging down the fabric shielding his cock, watching the bulge press against the confines of his boxers, glaring up at him with doe-like eyes, lips parting.

‘Easy, love. No rush, ‘awrite?’

The man cooed, leaning down to press his lips against yours, hand cupping the side of your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing against your bottomlip once you separated, lifting you up from the sofa to plop down in your place, sliding his boxers off before nestling you back on his lap like a ragdoll, groping at your bare chest.

‘Fuckin’ stunner, best Christmas gift Santa could’ve ever given me.’

‘Sappy, hm?’

You giggled for a moment, watching him roll his eyes before leaning in, tongue rimming around your nipples, rough palms digging into your waist as he manoeuvred you closer, your hair messy and forehead wet with sweat, grinding against him for a moment.

‘Relax, fuck you now, yeah?’

‘Hurry, Si..’

A soft scoff left him, before he grabbed your hip and sunk you down onto his cock, listening to your soft whine, stilling you for a moment.

‘All good?’

‘Fuck—you’re huge.’

A low laugh left him, thrusting himself further inside with a growl, your eyes fluttering shut with a moan, burying your face into his neck, melting together, he was still for a bit, before slowly grinding his hips in your cunt, revelling in the way your walls tightened around his veiny shaft, soft cries leaving your throat each time his cock hit that gummy spot inside you.

‘Bloody hell, yr’ so fucking tight..—oh—Would’ve thought yr’ a virgin..’

‘Mnnggghhh-si—oh, fuck..Si.!’

‘That’s it, love—fuck—Perfect pussy.’

His movements speed increased, rutting his length inside your weeping pussy, thumb rubbing quick circles around your twitching clit, watching your lips hang open, practically drooling yourself dumb on his cock, breasts moving with each fuck into you.

‘M’gonna cum—pleasepleaseplease—‘

‘Yeah? you wanna cum? that’s it—fuck—that’s it, baby, squeezing around me like a whore.’

With a cry, you tightened around him—The knot in your stomach snapping as you collapsed onto his shoulder, his hips slowly with a groan—pulling out and pumping his cum onto your stomach, huffing and puffing.

‘Y’ alive?’

‘Haaah..Think so..’

‘Yr’ alive?’

‘mhhhhm..’

‘Good.’

He nodded, leaning down to press his lips against yours—before scurrying off, arriving back with a glass of water and a damp rag, wiping the splurges of cum from your tummy, holding your chin as you took sips from the cold glass of liquid, huffing after.

‘Merry christmas.’

You smirked as he spoke, arms wrapping around his neck, thumb tracing along the scar icing his throat, leaning down to press your lips against it, feeling his hairy, strong chest against your bare one; melting into a puddle beneath him.

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #spotify #simon riley x oc #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon fluff #ghost headcanons #domestic ghost #ghost fanfiction #simon riley ghost #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #ghost x feminine reader #ghost x female reader #💞} riley speaks<3

[luveline]

Zombie!au- would love to see more grump Steve in the earlier days. And r just trying to lighten things up a bit!

thank you for requesting ♡ steve zombie!au —your attempt to cheer steve up backfires, but he's not so oblivious to your feelings as you think. fem!reader, 1k

Water drips down the length of Steve's arm. It follows a path to his elbow, shining honey-orange in the last dregs of sunlight that haunt the room. The stone wall at your back is cooling, the baking heat of the day abating with the setting sun. 

Your shirt is still damp but clean. Steve scrubbed it until the fabric turned fuzzy, the faint smell of sweat lingering despite all his efforts and dawn dish soap. He sits close enough to rest his leg atop yours, touching you without apology. It's hard to care about personal space when you spend time with someone like this, isolated. Your survival is tied to his like shared veins. 

Water sloshes over the edge of the bucket onto a towel he placed beneath it. You clear your throat, drawing his gaze. 

"Kinda weird how many towels people leave behind." 

His constant frown doesn't so much as twitch. "Why's that?" 

"We all need towels. Makes you wonder if they thought there'd be towels somewhere else… We loot all these houses and half the time there isn't a can of peaches, but there's always a couple of towels." 

"You only need one towel," Steve says. 

"Not the way we use them." 

Steve's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. You can guess what he's thinking —you're making small talk about towels. Maybe he'd rather sit in silence than listen, but if you stay silent in the wake of his bad mood any longer, you'll disintegrate. 

"I'm just saying it's weird to take soap but not the towel." 

"They probably weren't thinking about it. Not the way it happened, I mean." Steve's brows pinch together. He pulls his shirt from the soapy water filled bucket between his legs and squeezes the excess water from it. 

"Were you going to say something else?" you ask cautiously. 

Steve wrings his shirt, the muscles in his arms singing as he twists it tighter and tighter. You can't choose what to look at, his arms, the coiled definition of his upper chest, or the strange expression that plays on his fine features. Eventually he drops his sodden shirt on the towel and wipes his hands dry, not looking at you as he asks, "What did you think was gonna happen?" 

You shift your foot under his weight. He doesn't move it still, and you're glad. You need touch. You need his touch, even if he doesn't need yours. 

"I thought everybody was going to be fine." Your stomach aches remembering. "For a week, the news didn't bother me. The radio hosts were pandering and CNN were fearmongers. But then… one day I woke up and I knew it was the end." 

"When they started saying–" 

"Don't try to hide." You swallow a lump of past hurt where it swells. 

"That's why people didn't bother with towels," Steve says. "That's what I think. They knew they wouldn't make it past the week, deep down, even if they didn't know." 

You cross your arm over the other and hold your elbow. The sun sinks like a stone, dark eating the corners of the room. It feels colder now. 

It's scarier, in the dark. You worry about what you can't see. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Steve says, speaking more gently than he had been as he pulls his leg away. "I know you were trying to make me feel better. I didn't mean to kill the mood like an asshole."

"That makes a difference," you tease. 

Steve stands and grabs the bucket of dirty water, pouring it out of the open window. You can hear the loud slosh of it slapping overgrown bluegrass below. 

"I'm sorry for being a dick," he says, turned from you still, bucket braced in two rigid hands. 

"Steve, I don't care if you're in a bad mood. I just worry it's my fault." 

He tosses the bucket aside, the thin metal handle rattling as it lands. Brushing the hair from his face, Steve turns back to you and, silhouetted by the last light, gives you a tentative smile. 

"You drive me crazy sometimes, but if I'm pissed, that's my problem. Not your fault." 

You sit up, a muscle twinging between your sore shoulders. "Oh. Cool."

Steve nods to the left. "Come over here. We'll sleep where it's dry." 

You do as told, achy and worn from another day at the end of the world. You could sleep in a queen size bed every night and it'd make no difference to this kind of exhaustion, the burden of perpetual hyper vigilance like slow releasing venom. You kick the shitty single mattress you've been sleeping on for the last few days across the room and Steve spreads out a blanket for you to lay on. 

You can't sleep. Most of the time, you lay down for a few hours feigning rest while Steve sits soldier, nothing to do, nothing to darn nor sharpen nor tend to. You're in a strange limbo of having no urgent needs and no strength between you to move on yet. With a stache of protein bars you found in the desk in the den, you and Steve can stay here for a few more days. 

You sit down regardless of the sleepless tossing and turning that awaits, surprised when Steve wastes little time sitting beside you. Shirtless. He leans against the jacket you've been using as a pillow and puts his arm behind your back with the familiarity of a lover, hand on your waist. 

Your breath pulls in funny. 

"Thanks for trying," he says. 

You risk looking up at him. He looks down, a little bit of King Steve charm in the quirk of his mouth. 

"But towels?" he asks. 

"It was the first thing I could think of." 

He nods like this makes sense and pulls you into his side, rubbing yours with enough affection to floor you if you weren't already on it. "I didn't pack a towel, and neither did you. We're all the same." 

"Then how come we're here?" you ask, quiet with the embarrassment of asking such a vulnerable question. How come we lived and no one else did?

"I don't know."

You put your face in the curve of his neck hesitantly. Steve rests his cheek on top of your head.

"I'm glad we are, though," he murmurs. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[sanjisprincesswifey]

it's been a long, long time ⋆ sanji x reader

summary: a certain song reminds sanji how much he missed you

♡: post whole cake island sanji (sort of spoilers for this arc). female reader. 700+ words. sfw. spotify link.

a crack of thunder has sanji’s eyes fluttering open, immediately scanning the room he had been sleeping in. relieved, his heart calms when he sees luffy, chopper, and brook all asleep in their bunks.

he cradles his pillow underneath his head, bringing the blanket to his face in a child-like manner. since returning from whole cake, it was not the first night he had been easily startled awake and left in the dark by himself. not even luffy’s snore (that was just as violent as his appetite) could provide the cook any comfort in alleviating his feeling of loneliness.

after tossing and turning for ten more minutes, the drowsiness vanishes with each painfully slow second that passes. too many uncomfortable sleeping positions are attempted until sanji decides that sleep was no longer an option.

the gentle raindrops catch in his blond hair as he scoots along to the kitchen, confused when he noticed the dim light creeping from underneath the door.

he’s compelled to knock before he enters, pushing the door when he hears shuffling coming from the other side.

“sanji?” you say, stepping towards him cautiously after having identified his unusually disheveled state. he neither moves or responds to you as you take his hand and shut the door behind him. “are you okay?” you hopelessly ask.

you already knew that he wasn’t.

a few raindrops fall from his wet hair as he shakes his head no. he leans into your body as you guide him to a chair at the counter, whimpering when you pull away.

“can i finish the dishes? i’ll bring you with me to the crow’s nest when i’m done,” you offer, brushing his bangs back from his face.

both of his curly brows soften, and the corners of his lips rise slightly, signaling that was a yes.

you kiss the spiral of eyebrow before returning to your incomplete chore.

sanji hadn’t noticed the radio transponder snail that had been on, now playing soft jazz for both of your enjoyment.

with his head in his hand, he leans against the counter happily watching as you took on the role he had always provided you. usually, it was you who sat in this seat, waiting for him to be done with the dishes so you could accompany the other for the night watch shift. now that he thinks about it, this is the first time this scenario had occurred since coming back.

a tear rolls down his face from the combined romance of such a bittersweet moment and the guilt from the events that transpired for you to get to this point.

the beginning few notes of a song begin to play as both your head shoot up and glance over to the radio.

neither of you speak as you dry your hands and without missing a beat, sanji stands up and walks over to you, collapsing into your awaiting arms. his head leans on your shoulder while his arms wrap tightly around your waist. your grip is much looser when you wrap your arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair.

sanji hums lightly to the music the two of you sway back and forth, light sniffles following as his body shakes ever so slightly.

you can feel his whole body relax when you whisper the lyrics along with him. his trembling hands hold you so fearfully, but you understood why and didn’t mind the pressure anyway.

“i was so scared,” he admits. his whole body is like jelly in your hands, completely dependent on you as his sobs become less and less silenced. “it was so dark there,” he cries, “i…i thought i lost you.”

you nod your head, your chest aching at each remorseful word. despite how much you had told him, sanji wouldn’t stop blaming himself. you knew he’d react this way, it was just the type of guy he was. you would always come first to him, even when he was forced to relive the pain and trauma his childhood had brought upon him.

unfortunately, you understood there wasn’t much you could do for him at this point besides love him, which wasn’t a difficult task to accomplish.

you run your hands through his hair, coddling him as the song hits the chorus. “haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when,” you whisper, which begins to calm his panicked sobs.

you place a kiss on his head, “don’t worry,” you coo, as he picks his head up to look into your eyes. “i’ve got you now, my dear,” you hum as you cradle his face in between your hands, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on his lips.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine

[lonewolfwriting89]

MORE - [SR]

MORE

"To bare flesh is to invite a knife"

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of a dead body. Hints of torture and violence. Blood. Depictions of war. Trauma. Explicit Language. NSFW. Smut. Soft smut.

A/N: A somewhat softer Simon, written with female!reader insert. Pre-established relationship between Simon x Reader. Thanks to @offendedfishnoises​ for all your help, thanks to @more-cardigan-than-woman​ too xoxo 

————

I wanna see the rest of the world the same way that you do, I wanna be the home that you leave and you return to, I wanna stay here in your arms as long as I can do.

All anyone wants is just, More time, more life, more healing, More love, more us, more feeling, Oh, I just need, I'm just needing, More you, more nights for dreaming, These days go by so fast and I, Oh, I just need, I'm just needing more.

There's not enough time in one life, For you and I, there's not enough time.

————

It was 2am, Simon saw the clock tick over just a few seconds ago. Sleep didn’t come all that easily anymore, even when he was curled up against your soft, warm body. He tugged you into his chest on instinct, feeling his heart flutter when you subconsciously leaned further back, resting the base of your skull against his collarbone. You murmured in your sleep, your lips parted just slightly. Simon had to refrain himself from kissing them, giving into your passion.

The cold autumn air had crept in through the glass of your apartment windows, chilling the bedroom off. It was fresh. Simon liked the contrast of it against your heat.

You hummed again in your sleep, hand meeting his around your waist. He gave a secret smile, the brush of your fingertips setting his nerves on fire. Unable to resist any longer, Simon ghosted feather light kisses along your shoulder, working across your flesh and stopped just below your ear.

You were his. You’d told him so. Repeated the words back to him as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. Nails digging crescent shapes into his shoulder blades as the pleasure exploded behind your eyes.

It was these moments Simon cherished the most. The peace. Tranquillity floating like a lily on the water's surface. He ran his free hand along the length of your bare body, burning the feeling into his memory. He’d take this with him on his next deployment. Picture it when he was lonely and needed you the most.

You shivered and snuggled in impossibly closer. A puff of air left your lips, a beautiful sigh. Simon snorted to himself, everything you did was mesmerising. Even the most mundane of things like brushing your teeth on your tiptoes, his black T-shirt barely covering your ass. He smirked, cock twitching slightly at the thought.

His fingers splayed across your stomach, pressing your skin to his. He sighed and leant his head forward, sinking it into you. He felt you absorb him, and he allowed it. Becoming drunk on the feeling.

It was this. This is what he needed. The last mission was tough, bruises still lingering on his knuckles. Cut still healing on his upper lip. His emotions had crept up on him, drowning him in the field momentarily. For the first time in a long time, he was scared.

————

Flashback 

————

Turning the corner, Simon whipped his gun clearing the room. Empty. It was dark, filthy sheets covering the tiny windows. The broken glass allowed the heat of the desert to seep in. Simon pressed his thumb into the side of his radio on his chest, his assault rifle loose in his fingers but still dangerous , “It’s a negative Captain, the rooms have been evacuated, I think there’s a body on the table under some tarp”.

The air was thick with sand and dust, clogging his nostrils. There was a distinct smell of decay in the room, tinged with bitter metallic blood. The crackle of his radio shattered the eerie silence, Price’s voice filtering through, “Understood Ghost, check the room for any intel”.

Dropping his gun down, Simon scouted the edges of the room first, his gloved hands rummaging through the wires and screws on the tables. It was the remnants of a bomb. He pocketed some of the paperwork hidden underneath, it looked like some kind of instruction manual, one of the mechies could look over it at the base camp.

Turning, he looked towards the metal table in the middle of the room, a dank piece of tarpaulin strewn untidily over what was clearly a body underneath. Poor fucker, thought Simon. He huffed and stepped closer. What a shitty way out, laying dead in a derelict warehouse.

He gripped the edge and tore it back, feeling the ground fall out beneath him when he saw what was under it. His stomach plummeted, heart racing rapidly in his chest. He felt it tighten, his head going foggy.

A mangled female body, drenched in blood laid there. Lifeless. Her skin was pale and blotchy, covered in bruises and welts. But what caught Simon was her hair. Your hair. Matted, stained with blood and vomit. It streaked across your swollen face, lips bust open. 

You. His world. Lying dead, cut open. Simon gripped the edge of the table and tried to focus but struggled. Eyesight spotting in the corners. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not in his world. No.

“Any luck Ghost?”.

Simon’s head was pounding, a high pitched ringing sounding through his ears like a bomb had exploded. Price sounded like he was in the distance, faint and wavering. His vision throbbed and he gripped the edge of the table, oxygen catching in his lungs with sand. He felt heavy. Sick. When did it become so hard to breathe?

“Ghost?!”, Price shouted again, “Do you copy??”.

He needed to ground himself. The panic clawed its way up this throat and constricted painfully. Simon pressed his head to the wall and counted. 

10, 9, 8…

He could hear the wind whipping through the building outside, carrying the arid temperature with it. It was hot. Too hot. Sweat dripped down his forehead, tracing down his spine under his tactical vest. He missed the British weather. Unpredictable. 

7, 6, 5…

The roar of an engine, one of the trucks surging into life. The acrid scent of burning rubber and motor oil floated on the air. It was thick like syrup. Black. Simon would bet Price had sent in back up as he hadn’t responded. He needed to get himself together. Fuck. He couldn’t be caught like this. Brick by brick, he needed to place that wall back. He wasn’t Simon. No. Right now he was Ghost. Ghost.

4, 3, 2..

It can’t have been you. No. Never. He’d never let anything like that happen to you. You were thousands of miles away, wrapped up in sheets of soft linen, probably drinking too much coffee whilst reading a book. He tried to imagine the smell of the fancy coffee you loved, your perfume that always lingered on his skin for hours. This wasn’t you. It was a cruel trick of his imagination. You were safe. He’d left you safe, back home. You were ok. 

1…

He heard the sound of footsteps racing up the stairs, the sound of Soap’s Scottish twang echoing off the crumbling brick walls. Simon ripped himself off the wall and raised his rifle just as Soap barged into the room. Johnny could see straight away the room was clear except for Ghost who looked oddly dishevelled, stood right in the middle. 

“Everything alright L.T?”.

“Fine”, he grunted and strode across the room, he tipped his head to the side, “Deceased female, covered her back up, it wasn’t—”.

“Understood L.T”.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Ghost appreciated when Soap stepped in.

———

Stepping out into the black of the night, Simon flipped the mobile in his hands. He’d picked it up in a market on the outsides of the town, almost certain it’d never trace back to you.

Resting his back against the wall, he propped his combat boot against the brick before looking up at the sky. He could see every star. There was hardly any light pollution out here. You’d have loved the sight. You liked gazing at the night sky, especially if he was holding you.

He ran his tongue across  his lips before dialling your number. The sound of the rings lulling him into a false sense of security. He still found it strange that the heat of the desert so quickly turned to ice when the sun sank. He shuddered.

——

Your ringtone bounced off the bedroom walls startling you from your sleep. Poking your head from under the blankets you saw the room was still dark, illuminated by the light of your phone ringing. You squinted your eyes, looking at the clock at the other side of the bed. 3am.

Who would be calling you at 3am? You yawned, stretching your back and arching up before grabbing your phone from the nightstand. 

Unknown caller.

3am.

You slid the bar across on your phone to answer it, answering it your voice came out horse, “H-hello?”, you coughed, clearing your throat, “Hello?”.

Simon closed his eyes the moment he heard your voice trickle through the phone. He soaked it in, allowing it to wash over his senses. You sounded exhausted. Probably because it was 3am. Fuck. He shouldn’t have called so late. He took a deep, steady breath.

You yawned again, sitting up in bed. You wiped at your eyes, a strange feeling flooding your stomach, “Hello? Is someone there?”, you held your breath nervously, “I can hear breathing…”.

Swallowing thickly, Simon tried to contain his emotions. What could he say? What would you say? He’d never called you when he was away before. The weight of the day sat heavy on his shoulders, forcing him to slump back into the brickwork. He let out another sigh, it sounded weak.

“Si? Is..is that you? Are you ok?”, you bit your lip, waiting to hear him. God you hoped it was him. Wishing he was ok.

“Love…”, his rough voice cracked.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, relief washing over you like a flood, “Simon…”.

It was comforting to know it was him but terrifying at the same time. You knew Simon never called whilst he was away. He’d always said it was too dangerous. He didn’t want anyone finding out about you. Something had to be wrong, seriously wrong for him to be calling you. Anxiety sank into your bones, chilling them.

“Simon…”.

He loved hearing you say his name. You were perfect. He wished he could stay with you. A prayer. One that never seemed to be answered. More time. That’s what he wanted. More time with you. His centre.

“I—I’m sorry, it’s got to be late there love”, he shivered as the cold nip of desert air whipped under his balaclava, “I shouldn’t have called”.

“What happened”.

Simon cursed. You knew him too well. He shouldn’t have been that surprised really. You’d always been able to see into him. It’s why he loved you. Not that he’d told you that. The words always fizzled out before they left his tongue.

“It's nothing. I just—I needed to hear your voice”.

You tugged the comforter up your body and inhaled, it still smelled vaguely of Simon. You refused to change it, not wanting to let him go fully, you needed him with you.

“What do you need me to say?”, you could have said, ‘what do you want me to say’ but you didn’t, want is so different to need. And Simon needed you. He couldn’t voice it properly, always struggling to say what he truly wanted. But it didn't matter, you always knew anyway.

Simon let out a light, surprisingly delicate chuckle, “I could listen to you say anything”.

You flushed a little at the flirt and curled into his side of the bed, “Are you sure you’re ok?”.

“I am now”, he rolled his skull balaclava up just under his nose, placing a cigarette between his chapped lips. He lit it before taking a long slow drag. The nicotine hit perfectly.

“I thought you’d quit, hm?”, you hummed, a tease coating your words.

“Damn, I thought you wouldn’t hear me”, he snorted out a laugh, the sound somewhat hollow, “Old habits an’all that - I’ll start again tomorrow, promise love. M’sorry”.

You rested your head on his pillow, smiling to yourself, remembering not that long ago when he was laid there, threading his fingers through your hair, “S’ok Si…I understand”.

“You should go to sleep, love, it’s late there”, Simon took another drag, blowing the smoke into the blanket of the night. He didn’t want you to go at all. He’d stay awake till sunrise with you. But, duty calls.

‘I wish you were here’, you wanted to say, the words almost escaping your lips, but instead you murmured, “I’ll be dreaming of you”.

His lips curled around the cigarette end, “And I you”.

The line disconnected and Simon stared at the dark screen of the phone. He missed you instantly, desperate to call you back. There was so much more to say. Why didn’t he say it? It would have been perfect. You’d have wanted to hear it.

Instead he muttered his confession to the desert, ‘I love you’ faded into the air, before he dropped the phone to the floor, smashing it with the heel of his boot. He couldn’t have anyone finding out about you. Getting to you. The broken shards of the phone scattered, some becoming buried by the shifting sands. Turning, he headed back towards the barracks, preparing for another day.

————

End Flashback

————

Safe. That was how it felt when you woke in Simon’s embrace. Your limbs entangled with his. You felt his muscles tense as he stretched, his arm wrapping back around you tightly. The heat radiated off his skin, warming yours. It was a feeling you loved, your bare skin pressed to his. The soft sheets draped over your entwined bodies.

You looked up at him, his eyes closed somewhat peacefully, his fingers mindlessly twirling your hair around them. Leaning up, you frowned noticing the yellow bruise above his lip, the cut on his lip just about healed. Gently, you kissed the wound, feeling heat bloom in the pit of your stomach when Simon smiled.

“Simon…”, you started, fingers stroking over the dip in his chest, “Each time you come back with another scar, I’m just going to have to kiss it better”.

His eyebrows lifted, a smirk evident on his face, “Y’know that’s only going to encourage me right?”.

Laughing, you smiled and felt the blush spreading across your cheeks, “I probably should have thought that through that before I said it”.

“No no, you’ve said it now, love”, his large hand dragged down your back making you shiver, “I expect to come home to you nursing me better —every time”.

Fluttering your eyelashes on purpose, you looked up at him with doe eyes, “In one of those little nurse outfits?”.

You saw his eyes flicker dark momentarily and he growled, “Don’t be a tease”.

“Who said I was kidding?”.

Simon tried to roll you both over but you pressed your hand to his chest, stopping him. 

“Something wrong, love?”.

You shook your head and stroked the cut with tenderness, “How did you get it?”.

It wasn’t unusual for Simon to come home with cuts and bruises. New scars and broken bones. But something told you this was different.

“Get what?”, Simon pretended to look confused, dipping his head down to kiss you. Ready to distract.

“Simon…”.

He sighed softly, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of it. He’d never been able to say no to you.

“Well, long story short, I got into a scuffle with one of the new lads…fucking cheeky cunt”, he muttered the last part under his breath.

“What—”, worry flickered over your face, eyes going wide. It wasn’t like Simon to get into fights with his colleagues, he was always so professional. Brothers in arms, he’d once said. Your mind was whirling until you heard his voice cut your thoughts short.

“It doesn’t matter now, it’s fine”.

“But—”.

“I promise love”, he kissed you so gently you would have sworn you imagined it, “Please—please don’t worry”, another kiss was planted on your forehead, making you sigh happily.

“I’ll be more careful”, he murmured the last part so softly, you didn’t catch it, “For you”.

——

The heavy patter of rain against your window pane was somewhat of a safety net for Simon, the miserable weather common here in his northern hometown of Manchester. The bedroom window was cracked open slightly, allowing the smell of the rain to float in softly. He sighed quietly, his fingers drifting down your bare side. For the first time in months, Simon felt at peace. Having you finally curled up in his arms made him just that little bit softer. Smoothing down his sharpened edges. He bent his head and brushed his lips to your scalp, a light hum leaving his throat.

“Si”.

He repeated the motion, tugging you further into him. He didn’t answer, there wasn’t any need. His actions spoke for him. Said the words he hadn’t yet said, though they weighed heavy on his tongue. Like molten lead.

Fuck. He’d do anything for you — anything. He’d burn the world if you asked him, no questions asked. Simon wondered briefly if you knew the levels he’d go to, just to see you smile. That’s why he did this, his work. He did it for you. To keep you safe. That’s all he wanted.

It hurt every time he left, his boots becoming heavier each time. His arms would wrap around you longer, hold you that little bit tighter. You never complained, not once. Seeing him off each deployment with a lingering kiss and a promise.

He felt your silken lips kiss a sensitive spot on his neck and he shuddered. The embers lighting deep in his stomach, a husky groan rumbled in his chest. You smiled against his skin, nuzzling gently.

Simon’s job was dangerous. You knew that. You’d seen enough evidence when he’d make it back home. Scars, broken bones, bruises and cuts. He’d never given you details, not wanting to burden you with that. Having you there was enough.

At the start, Simon had wondered if keeping you had given him a weakness. A tactical error. You’d carved into his heart and given him an emotion. Something he wasn’t even sure he was capable of anymore. He’d spent years within the army, specialist training to cut off that side of him, to become a ghost. Nothing. Isolated. But he was wrong. God he was so wrong. And he’d never been so happy to be wrong. You were his strength. A reason. Something to fight for. Something to live for. Something to come home for. 

————

Flashback

————

Hidden in a burnt out building, Ghost paced next to Price, waiting to hear from Soap. He’d picked out a sniper point a few streets down to try and locate their target. He’d gone alone against Simon’s wishes. Demanding to go with him, Price had vetoed the idea, telling Ghost to stand down, Soap could handle it.

Price turned to Simon and gave him a harsh glare, the continuous steps grating on his nerves. He grunted in response before grabbing the radio, unable to wait any longer.

“Soap? You there yet? What can you see? Can you see him?”.

There was a brief crackle before Soap’s distinctive voice sounded through, “Negative LT…3 on the ground floor, 2 on the first floor but—”, the radio splintered before carrying the sound again, “—But I-I’ve lost eyes on the Jack of Hearts, sorry…he ain’t here”.

Simon huffed in annoyance before radioing through, “All right…copy Soap”, he twisted looking at Price, “I think we should wait Sir, it’s a risk…no point clearing the building and spooking the target”.

Price almost felt the cigar drop out of his mouth, unsure if it was Simon Riley that had uttered those words. He was normally itching to clear out a terrorist hot spot.

“Repeat that”.

“I said we should stick it out Sir, no point wasting ammo and effort if he’s not there. It’s just 5 bodies we gotta clear out. Unnecessary risk”.

Simon could feel Price’s eyes burning through his mask, scorching his skin. He was thankful for the mask, hiding everything he’d thought to bury away, the sweat beaded at his brow. Even he had to admit this wasn’t like him. But, you. You. He couldn’t risk it. Not anymore. He had to get back to you. You needed him. And he needed you. 

Price nodded and ran a hand over his chin, “I—”.

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as one of the rookies in the corner piped up, scoffing with distaste, “Come on now Cap’n, are you serious?”, he snorted, “Why aren’t we going in? It’s 5 less scumbags on the planet. It’s not that risky…”, the rookie eyeballed Simon, seemingly unphased by his shorter height, “I didn’t realise The Ghost was such a pussy”, he laughed and patted Simon on the front of his tactical vest, “You lost your balls or something after you found that dead bitch the other day?”.

“What was that?”.

Rage. A blistering furnace burned bright inside him, his heart hammering against his chest violently. His vision turned red and before he could stop his body, Simon launched himself towards the arrogant rookie.

——

The pristine white sink turned a deep shade of red as Simon shoved his hands under the steady stream of water. The lukewarm liquid soaking his gloves. He cursed, as it making the cuts sting. He grimaced, looking up into the mirror, he could see a stain of blood leaking through the dark material of his balaclava. It was probably a mix of his with the fucking rookie’s. Scowling, he knew he’d have to explain to you why he had a bust lip when he got back.

His eyes darted to the corner of the room reflected in the mirror when he heard the door hinge squeak. Soap appeared slowly, a smug smirk hung on his lips. Simon already knew he’d have a headache before he left.

“What”, he spat, his northern accent carving the word harshly.

Soap had the audacity to laugh, folding his arms over his chest, his grin growing wider, “Did breaking his nose make you feel better?”.

Simon grunted, refusing to give an answer. It made him feel better for a few seconds, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as his fist connected with it. But then you invaded his thoughts and he stopped. Guilt. You wouldn’t want him to do that.

“Y’know Riley”, Soap caught the wild glance from Simon and he coughed, correcting himself, “Sorry, L.T”, he smiled smugly, “Whoever the lass is…she must be something real special t’ya”.

The silence was thick. Palpable. Simon didn’t want to give anything away but it was obvious as his shoulders tensed.

Johnny flexed subconsciously, tapping his fingers against his forearm. He wondered briefly if he’d overstepped, concerned that Simon might try to strangle him. But the silence and rigid stance told him all he needed to know. He was right. Relaxing a little, he attempted to lighten the mood, “You’ll have to introduce me”.

“Fuck off MacTavish”.

Soap couldn’t see it but there was a hint of a smile curling Simon’s lips.

————

End flashback

————

Delicate. Like lace. Simon closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of your fingertips lazily grazing over the tattoo covering his left arm. You traced the skulls, letting your nails skim over the outlines. They were a part of him, as much as you were. His skin shivered when you stroked a sensitive spot near his shoulder. There was an ugly welt residing there. An old gunshot wound from Siberia.

“‘Bout 6 or 7 years ago”, his voice, thick and heavy like whisky, ran smooth down your spine, “Got pinned by a sniper—bastard—a lucky bastard mind you”.

He was so nonchalant about these things. Like it didn’t matter. Just another day to add amongst all the others. But to you, every scar and mark made your stomach knot. The thought of him hurting shattered you.

His thick fingers kneaded the base of your neck as you rested on his chest, ironing out the kinks hidden there. You let out an appreciative hum.

“Si…”.

“I know, just lemme yeah?”.

Simon knew you’d wanted to shower him with affection but he couldn’t resist putting his hands on you. How could he not? Without warning, he rolled you under him, resting his weight on his tattooed forearm besides your head. Your legs splayed open without thought, allowing him to slot between them.

You were so soft, so beautiful, so perfect. Splayed underneath him, like an angel of innocence. Wild hair framing your head like a halo against his pillow. But he, he was rough. His edges were sharp and nasty, cutting deep to the bone. He was nothing like you. He’d been tainted by the ugliness in the world, torn down and broken up. And you were like the first blossom of spring.

Your hand reached up to cup his face, pulling him from his thoughts. You must have sensed he was dwelling somewhere he shouldn’t.

“Simon”.

He bent down and captured your lips in a demanding kiss. It was harder than he intended but full of emotion. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. Granting it, you sighed happily into his mouth, your hands snaking around his neck, pulling him down so he was pressed against you.

Simon let his tongue run along yours, tasting you. A light hint of peppermint. He groaned into the kiss, letting his hand smooth down to the apex of your thighs.

You gasped when his calloused fingers found your clit, stroking over it with just enough pressure to have your thighs quiver around him. Fuck. He loved watching you fall apart. He needed you so badly. He wanted to drown in you.

Tearing himself from your lips, he planted hot, wet, opened mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone, humming words of affection into your skin as his fingers continued their lazy pace.

“Si…fuck..oh”, you whimpered and your hips bucked on their own accord.

“Need you—”

“Me too love, fuck—”.

He’d never known anything like it. He was desperate for you, throbbing against the flesh of your thigh.

Sliding into you with a practised ease, Simon swore under his breath, you mewled, body arching to his. Your soaked core stretching deliciously around him.

The feeling never faded, only intensifying every time. Your legs wrapped around his, tangling together as he drove into you over and over. 

Linking his fingers with yours, he pushed your hand above your head, holding it firmly as he thrust deeper. Your breath caught, heart racing wildly in your chest, hammering next to his.

“You feel so good—”.

“Si…I-I—”.

“Let go love”, he whispered, leaning down to press a heated kiss to the dip of your throat, “I—fuck, I’m right there with you”, his words stumbled together, pleasure pulsing through his veins.

The high hit you hard, climax tearing through you like a white hot flash. It buzzed along your skin as you sobbed his name. Simon followed, feeling his body become lighter, his mind hazy with nothing but bliss.

Soaking in the afterglow, Simon pressed his forehead between the valley of your breasts, sighing contently. He didn’t want to press for too long, aware of his heavy bulk crushing your tiny frame.

Rolling to the side, Simon laid out on his back, dragging your body onto his chest, blunt fingernails scraping down your back, resting on the dip of your ass. His eyes were closed but he knew you were staring at him, he could feel the burn of your gaze.

“I’ve missed you”.

The confession felt better in the open. You wanted him to know you thought about him, always. Never questioning where your loyalty lay. It would always be him.

You saw Simon’s lip quirk up at the corner, the scar there only adding perfect detail to his handsome face.

“Oh yeah?”, the playful mock hung heavy on his northern accent.

You ignored the teasing tone, knowing it was a deflective measure. Simon struggled to accept he deserved love, affection - let alone someone actually missing him.

“Mhmm”, you hummed and leaned down, kissing his lips softly, “I always do”.

He swore his heart skipped a beat. He wondered if you noticed, pressed up against his bare chest. Keeping his eyes closed, he nodded into the pillow.

“I missed you too”.

Your lips curved up and Simon could feel your smile burn through his eyelids. He didn’t even have to look to know the words had lit you up.

——

He was going to miss this. Everything. The softness of your skin. How your body laid next to his during the night, instinctively curling into him, his large arm laying heavy around your waist. The vanilla scent of your shampoo which always lingered on his hoodie. He’d never complain, he carried it with him for as long as he could, drifting back to you whenever he could. Simon tilted his head, glancing down at your beautiful face. He looked at you reverently, words escaping before he could force them back down, “Make me stay, love”.

He desperately wished he didn’t have to go back, wanting to stay here with you, wrapped up in thick cosy blankets and silken pillows, watching the world pass by.

Leaning up to him, you ran your soft fingertips over his lips, “I wish I could”, you sighed gently, “But I know you’re needed, it’s your job..I can wait, I’m not going anywhere”.

Tilting his face into your palms, Simon swallowed thickly, wishing to sink into your heavenly touches, “Love—I—”.

“Stop”, you pressed your forehead to his, noses brushing together delicately, “I know, Si—please don’t apologise, you don’t need to”.

“I do…I should be here with you”.

“Please stop”, you kissed him tenderly, lips melded to his, “I meant what I said, it’s ok—I understand, I always have”.

He let out a deep sigh, “You’re too good for me”.

“Complete bullshit”.

Simon laughed, the sound deep and husky. It wasn’t often he heard you swear. He was becoming a bad influence, his northern ways imprinting upon you. Your eyes sparkled when you giggled with him, the sound caressing his ears. He stared at you, just absorbing. Wishing to take the mental image with him on his next deployment.  

He bent forward, nudging his nose along yours, “I love—”.

Before he could finish the sentence, you’d pressed your lips to his hurriedly drinking up the confession you’d so desperately wanted to hear. You’d take those words and carry them with you, always.

————

#simon ghost riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader insert #simon riley x you #Simon Riley x reader insert #simon riley x fem!reader #Simon ghost Riley x fem!reader

[forjongseong]

free fall // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: doctor!jay x agent!fem!reader

genre: secretagents!au, lovers to strangers(?), suggestive, slight angst // warning: mentions of gunshots, blood, violence // wc: ~1.3k

summary: you were tasked to eliminate a target, which should be just another day in your life, but what were you supposed to do when said target was your ex-husband whom you had left months ago?

author’s note: I don't know if I should call this a drabble or a one-shot, but for now let's call it a short one-shot...

I know I did a poll and that I should be releasing bodyguard!jay first but Lord help me this particular scene just played in my mind and if I didn't get it out of my system I would be haunted by it in my dreams... which would be exhausting.

anyways if you have watched Salt before then you might notice some similarities. except I do like to think this one has an implied happy ending.

no song for inspiration for this one! I just hope you like it.

taglist (please send an ask or DM if you want to be added or removed!): @end-hyphen @excusememissiloveyou @shinkenprincess-oh @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @thots4hee @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy

The sounds of gunshots and explosions were deafening to your ears, and the amount of dust and debris floating almost impaired your sight, but you pushed through, as you always do. You had one mission—to eliminate the target, so you slowly but steadily made your way up the crumbling apartment, hoping to locate your man soon.

You heard static in your ear, and you nudged the piece back in place, quickly putting your hand back on your gun. Your footsteps were silent, and the area soon quieted down too. You were slightly worried that the murmur of the radio would be noticeable, so you turned down the volume as you closed in.

With a slight tap, you pushed the front door slightly open, and you kept your movements to a minimum as you carefully entered the room. You heard the sound of clinking and rustling, like someone was in a rush to pack their stuff, so with a firm step you slammed the bedroom door open and pointed your gun to the source of the sound.

The man froze, letting go of his tools that were halfway on their way into his bag. At the sight of you, his hands fell to his side, and it bothered you how his face showed no fear. It was almost like he was glad to see you.

“Y/N,” he called you by your first name.

You frowned and strengthened the grip on your gun. He flinched slightly and raised his hands, only up to his chest. You did not know how long you both stared at each other until his eyes moved to your waist and widened at the sight.

“You’re bleeding,” he muttered.

You heard your handler’s voice calling for you through your earpiece, and you squinted your eyes at his demand. He was ordering you to retreat as soon as you killed the doctor in front of you, and you were seriously considering it for a second. But then you started to feel your blood seeping through your top, and you were getting a little lightheaded—maybe from your wound, from the intense running, or from running into your ex-husband.

“One second,” you whispered.

Jay wasn’t sure if you were talking to him or the earpiece. You shifted your aim only slightly to the right before firing your gun, missing Jay’s ear by several inches and hitting the wall behind him. Jay barely flinched, he only blinked as he felt the short gush of wind go past his face.

You collapsed to the floor as you pulled your earpiece off, kneeling on the ground and smashing the device with your fist to effectively destroy it. Your gun slid off your hands and at that exact moment, Jay rushed to his feet to catch you in his arms.

“Y/N…”

Your vision became blurry as you tried your best to muster the last words coming out of your mouth before you lost consciousness.

“Don’t call me that.”

---

You woke up in a room that was lit with a warm shade of light, its walls painted dark green and the furniture in it a complementary shade of copper. You moved your right arm and immediately winced, feeling a sharp sting on your waist. When you looked down, you found yourself bandaged and your top had changed into a loose shirt.

The door swung open and Jay entered, holding your sling but without your gun in it.

“I found this,” he said, showing you the tracker on the wider side of the strap. “What do you want me to do with it?”

You felt like he already knew what your answer would be, but you replied anyway.

“Get rid of it,” you breathed. Jay calmly ripped the tracker off and crushed it with the heaviest book on his shelf before chucking it in the trash.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

You frowned at the sudden question. You always knew that Jay was straightforward, but you didn’t expect him to directly ask you about your business, especially when you were clearly still in pain.

“That was what you came for, right?” Jay asked again. “I was the only doctor in the building. They want me gone. Am I wrong?”

“Stop,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to your temple. For some reason, you were starting to get a headache. “Not now.”

“Then when?” Jay stepped away from the desk, initially having his back towards you. He was now looking at you and standing by the side of the bed. The bed that you used to share.

“I just said not now,” you repeated yourself.

“It has to be now,” Jay continued. “Because if I wait until you get better, you will leave. Again.”

You were quick enough to turn your head away to not let Jay see the single tear trickling down your face. You took a deep breath and licked your lips before you spoke.

“It’s nothing personal, Jay. It’s just work.”

Jay scoffed and stepped away, walking towards the windows to make sure the blinds were closed. He had disabled your tracker long before you told him to destroy it, so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted by whoever was hiring you to do your job. Regardless, he had to ensure that nobody was around and that you were completely safe.

He wanted you to be. He couldn’t care less about his own safety.

“They told me not to fall in love.”

Jay turned his head towards you at the sound of your voice. “Pardon?”

“When they briefed me,” you continued. “I remember when they gave me your file. And when I reported back to them months later.”

Jay stood in silence as he listened to you.

“‘You were supposed to recruit him, not fall in love,’ they said,” you spoke in a hushed voice. You looked up at him and your eyes met.

“But how could I not?”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back your tears, and what Jay did next just made you fall apart.

He cradled your face in his chest, pulling your body only slightly towards him as he tried to comfort you. You grabbed his arm as you sobbed, tears staining his button-down. He gently placed his hand over your covered wound, making sure you weren’t putting unnecessary pressure on it, and it made you cry even more.

“It’s okay,” Jay muttered. “You’re safe here with me.”

You shook your head, still pressed towards his chest. “I might be, but you’re not.”

“Enough with the excuses, Y/N.” Jay pulled back, bringing one hand to cup your face. “I’ve told you I’ll go wherever you will go. Be it safe or not.”

“That’s a dumb decision,” you replied. Jay chuckled softly.

“People make dumb decisions when they’re in love,” Jay stated. He swiped his thumb across your cheek in an attempt to dry your tears.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you said in between your sobs. “We will have to relocate every month. There has to be surveillance at all times.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I will be a burden to you, Jay.”

Jay shook his head, clasping his hands over yours and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed your knuckles before shaking his head again, tears also threatening to fall down his face.

“You were never a burden to me,” he spoke against your skin. “You never will be.”

You started sobbing again and Jay made shushing noises as he pressed his forehead against yours. He began stroking your hair steadily, alternating between caressing your face and your shoulders too, and once he noticed that your breathing had leveled, he placed a finger under your chin.

“I belong to you, no matter what,” he said before kissing your lips.

When you felt the heat rush against your lips, you were reminded of how it was easy to be with him, how passionate it was to make love to him, and how regretful you felt on the day you decided to leave him. For loving Jay was like flying through a free fall—thrilling, fast, and intoxicating—and you could only pray that you’ll land safely, hopefully in his arms.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved

!!! do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work to any other platform.

#writtenbynana #fic: free fall #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen jay x reader #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #enhypen angst #enhypen jay angst #jay angst

[bimobuddy]

Storms

Hazbin TK fic

Writing this because there's currently a storm going on that's not supposed to end until 7 pm, and I'm not doing well :)

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Lucifer

Alastor might be ooc

CW: Fear of storms?? Anxiety

Summary: Hell gets a really bad storm, and Alastor isn't as composed as he normally is. When Lucifer finds out the reason why, he decides to put their rivalry aside and help him out.

BOOM

Alastor gripped his cane tightly in his hands, his permanent grin slightly more strained than usual. Wordlessly, he stood up from his seat and made an excuse to Charlie about needing to finish up some scripting for his next broadcast.

He turned and left the lobby, his shoes clicking as he walked down the hall.

CRAAACK!!

His breath caught in his throat as he picked up the pace a little, his ears starting to fold back.

"Heeey, Bambi!" Lucifer called, appearing in front of him. Oblivious to the Radio Demon's distress, he grinned, ready to harass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Alastor gripped his cane so hard he thought he was about to snap it. "Not that it's any of your business, your highness, but I'm heading back to my room." He replied, trying to mask his fear behind his usual smile and sass.

As thunder sounded again, softer this time, more of a rolling sound, Lucifer picked up on Alastor's anxious demeanor. His tail flicked, and his ears were pinned back a little.

The king chuckled, "Oh come on, don't tell me you of all demons are scared of a little-"

BOOOM!!

Lucifer blinked and looked around. Had Alastor disappeared? The light sound of microphone feedback caught his attention, and he turned to see that Alastor hadn't disappeared into shadow, but instead dropped to the floor and hidden under a table in the hall.

Alastor's ears were fully pinned back as he shook and pressed himself back against the wall.

Sensing this was something deeper, Lucifer kneeled down to be eye level with him. "Hey," he started, speaking softly, the same way he had to Charlie when she was a child and scared of the dark, "You're okay, Al. This hotel was built with angelic power, the storm isn't going to break in."

Alastor, eyes wide still, looked up at the king. When Lucifer took a chance and reached a hand out, he was surprised when Alastor took it.

"When I was a child," the demon started, his voice losing its radio filter, "a really bad tornado hit Louisiana. It devastated our town and nearly destroyed my home. I was in the cellar with my mother for hours until we were found."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little bit, as he felt his heart break for the demon. He gave Alastor's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You know, Charlie used to be afraid of storms too-"

Alastor forced a short laugh. "Wonderful, I'm behaving like a child." He pulled his hand away, and climbed out from under the table, feeling embarrassed for having acted like that in front of his rival. As another boom of thunder sounded, Alastor froze and gripped the table so hard, the wood started to crack and splinter.

Lucifer summoned his wings and wrapped one side around Alastor. "Let me walk you to your room-" Alastor shook his head. "My room is modeled to look like the swamps of Louisiana, I can't-... I can't stay in there during a storm."

"Alright then... My room, come on." He turned and started to guide Alastor in the opposite direction. He folded his wings in and de-summoned them, as to let Alastor retain his dignity when they passed by the lobby again.

As he was being guided, Alastor didn't once argue or complain, much to the surprise of Lucifer. He actually stayed rather close to the king, ears down, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

When they reached Lucifer's room, there was a flash of lightning, causing Alastor to rush in quickly. Seeing Alastor break character so much was very odd and concerning to the king. For as long as he had known the demon, Alastor had the attitude of someone who was untouchable. And now here he was, shaking, and bleating like a scared fawn.

He sighed, feeling bad for him. He remembered when Charlie would come running into his room scared, during a storm. Back then, he would have scooped her up into his lap, and they would have counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the cracking of thunder. And when that didn't work, he'd- Oh there's an idea.

"Alastor?" He started, taking his hat off and setting aside. "You wanna know what I used to do with Charlie when she was scared of storms?" He asked with a smile.

The Radio Demon turned to face him. He was still holding onto that smile, but his eyes showed just how distressed he was. He tilted his head.

Lucifer waved him over, sitting down. "I'll show you, sit down." Alastor approached and sat next to him, willing to try anything at this point to calm his nerves. He set his cane aside and let out a surprised fawn squeak when the king just opened his coat. He was obviously wearing a shirt underneath, but he hadn't expected for Lucifer to touch him.

"It was a little game we'd play. You ready?" Before Alastor could question it, he saw another flash of lighting that made him jump. That was Lucifer's cue to start.

He reached forward and started to scritch his claws against Alastor's sides, up and down. The demon let out a startled yelp, and at first Lucifer thought maybe this was a bad idea. But when the host started to chuckle and lean into it, he smiled and continued.

As thunder rolled and boomed overhead, Lucifer slid his hands upward and spidered over his ribs. Alastor doubled over, laughing harder, yet he barely even noticed the loud noise, only able to focus on the tickling.

Playful claws zipped down and vibrated into his hips, and the radio host couldn't help but curl up and fall onto his side, tail wagging. He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed louder, his own hands shooting down to grab Lucifer's, yet he didn't push him away, seeming to be more than okay with this distraction.

The king gave his hips a break and reached up to gently scritch behind his ears. He couldn't stop the fond smile that painted itself across his face once Alastor's loud laughter melted away into staticky giggles.

Lucifer summoned his wings back and again, and wrapped them around Alastor, pressing them against his back. Alastor normally hated touch, but he welcomed this. It was warm, and the gentle, constant pressure against his back was helping with his anxiety, a lot actually.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer plucking one of his own feathers. His cheeks warmed and his ears folded back, but he didn't attempt to escape. He just squeezed his eyes shut again, and allowed the angel to flutter it under his chin.

Alastor burst into surprised giggles, shocked at just how ticklish it was. It definitely didn't feel like a normal feather, it was worse.

Lucifer chuckled, "Yeah, angels feathers, they're much more intense than birds." He saw the window flash, and brought the feather down to Alastor's tummy, pushing his shirt up. Right when the thunder started, he started to flick and flutter the feather against his skin, grinning to himself when Alastor jumped and curled up, laughing, gently batting at the king.

Yet he didn't even notice the storm outside.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #tickling #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!alastor #ler!lucifer

[solargeist]

Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit

Scar figured he was finally going crazy.

It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.

That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.

Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.

It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“

He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?

He figured he was finally going crazy.

Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.

Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.

He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.

“You.”

And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,

“You see me?”

Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”

Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.

“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.

With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.

“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.

He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.

“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.

This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”

The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.

“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”

This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.

He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?

-🦕

OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me

#ask #grian #the crafting dead #evo smp #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #sketching #my art #grians eating rice and fish <3 i ate that the other night #i didnt expect watcher mum to show up AUGH