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rootbeerworshiper · 2 months

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Summer (part 1/3)

Reader x Matt Sturniolo

summery: summer camp has always been your favourite thing, but as you enter you last year at the camp, as a councillor, you meet someone that changes everything.

warnings: none other than swearing and mention of a parent passing

credits to @inlovewithmattstur for helping me figure out an ending !

part 2 here

enjoy!!!

love, sienna <3

you have always been referred to as a “goody two shoes” by practically every person in your life. it wasn’t a nickname you were fond of, but based on the way you always had a book in your hands and the way you never broke a single rule, they weren’t entirely wrong.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about living your teenage life to the fullest with parties and boys, you’ve thought about it every waking second because deep down you felt like you were wasting your adolescence on abiding by the rules adults set in place.

something as silly as a single nickname weighed on your head more than you’d like to admit, was it negative? was it just another way to call you a nerd?

you weren’t sure, and honestly it’s probably better you don’t know. blissful ignorance is just that, blissful.

so here you are, sat on a bus in mid july, sporting your two dutch braids and overall shorts, as you make your way to summer camp.

this year was different than the last few, because you were finally old enough to be a councillor, although it’s silly, you actually love kids, and you love camp.

which all adds to your iconic nickname, because what teenager is excited for summer camp? not most.

something about summer was special to you. most kids like summer because it’s a break from school, but you liked it for almost every other reason.

you liked it for the late night swims with your best friend who’s asleep beside you, you liked it because the abundance of wildlife brings you peace, and you like it because it’s the one time of year your hardworking dad can take a week off.

that and summer camp of course.

you’ve been going since you were 7 and you almost never got homesick because you loved it so much. except for when you peed the bed that one time, then you really wanted to go home.

regardless, the pure essence of being surrounded by log cabins and bright stars was enough to bring you peace, and when you add on swimming with your best friends and getting pushed on the camp swings, you were in heaven.

practically everyone that goes to your camp, you’ve grown up with, and they’re all like your temporary best friends for the summer.

well besides Amara, you and her have been friends since preschool and the two of you were practically inseparable. she was the sister you never had and you were hers.

speaking of family, your family life was a little bit rough. when you were 12 your mom passed away from brain cancer. the doctors gave her two weeks after the diagnosis, but a mere 6 days later she was gone.

you never understood how death happens so fast, how people can be gone from the earth in a blink of an eye with nothing but fond memories left behind.

at the time it felt like it was the end of the world. you and your mom were always close, you told her anything and everything as you procrastinated going to sleep on a school night.

it was impossible to not feel alone. sure, you had your dad and Amara, but no one could ever compare to the mother-daughter relationship you held so close to your heart.

like a constant void within you that would never be filled again.

it took weeks for you to “move on” although obviously, you never would. but soon enough you began leaving your room and eating full meals, and at the time, that was everything.

routine wasn’t easy for you, but it kept you stable. reading books all night and getting good grades became a form of therapy for you because it was all in your control, and you craved control more than anything after she passed.

other than the general sadness of losing your built in best friend, financially your dad struggled. he did whatever he could to provide for you, but with the rapid inflation and one singular income, it wasn’t easy for him.

your mothers passing made you and him closer, but you both mourned the main person who connected you, and it was hard for it to feel the same without her.

at camp, you could forget about this all and live in the moment, actively becoming the person you want to be.

so although you may be referred as a goody two shoes because of it, none of that really got you because you were happiest at camp, and that’s all that mattered.

you were never able to fall asleep in a moving vehicle, brain moving faster than the bus you were in, so you just read yet another romance novel as Amara slept soundly in your lap.

thirty more minutes until everything would be okay again—till you could breathe again.

the time flew by as you read, it’s what you loved most about it. it passed time and you were able to indulge in the words on the page, forgetting about your own sad life.

soon enough you saw the familiar forests and you knew you were getting close. “Amara wake up” you whispered as you rubbed the blondes back.

Amara was everything you wished you were. she’s charismatic, more beautiful than any other person you’d ever met, and most of all she had a sense of balance that made you jealous.

she was able to go to parties and have boys wrapped around her finger all while getting good grades and maintaining a good relationship with her parents.

you loved her, but it was hard not to feel your heart hurt as she rejected yet another guy who fell to her feet. it was exhausting to witness.

she furrows her eyes shut, rubbing her face as she wakes up. “good morning” she smiles. somehow she looks beautiful right as she wakes up—that could never be you.

“it’s three pm but okay” you put your bookmark in between the pages of your book, shoving it into your tote bag that resides on the bus floor as your friend situates herself next to you.

“are you excited?” she asks, grabbing a brush from her own bag, hoping to brush through her ruler straight hair and look more desirable.

she knows the answer to her question, because the answer is the same every year. “i am” you smile like a kid on Christmas morning.

once she’s done brushing her hair next to you, she leans back into the seat, placing her head on your shoulder. “i heard camp councillors do way more crazy shit” she pokes your arm, teasing you without needing to say anything, because you knew what she meant. “my friend told me that when she was a councillor, they all snuck out and got drunk by the lake”

you just roll your eyes and place your own head onto hers. “when have i ever come off as someone that’s itching to get cold and plastered with a bunch of random teenagers?”

“cmon you’re older now, you could try and have some fun” she groans. “soon you’ll be in college and then you’ll be too busy to do stuff like this”

she’s right of course, she usually is. you had planned to go to Boston University and get a degree in english, hoping to maybe become a writer someday, but you didn’t tell many people that.

it’s embarrassing the high hopes you have for yourself—sometimes you can’t help but feel completely delusional.

you’re mom was the one person who fully believed in you. sure, Amara and your dad were supportive, but you could tell they were worried about your career choice, and that was probably the rational thought process to have.

“we’ll see” you say, knowing full well you won’t be doing anything crazy. it’s just easier to give Amara a small beacon of hope every once and a while.

you look out the window the see your camp sign with a bunch of kids lined up for registration at the main cabin. you missed this more than ever and you’re sad that is is your last year.

everything goes according to plan which you are grateful for. some councillors came early to assist in the registration process but you and Amara decided against that.

it feels like home here. the dragonflies flying past you as you walk towards your cabin on the dirt road while the red duffel bag on your shoulder weighs you down. it’s also the hottest day of the year which causes you to squint your eyes slightly as you walk towards where you’re going.

theres around 8 different cabins for campers and a designated councillor for each. they’re close enough in proximity that it’s not a hassle to go between the two which is a relief because you’d be walking to Amaras cabin constantly.

soon enough you make it to your designated cabin and begin to unload your stuff, which doesn’t take long seeing as you packed light. you had grown pretty accustomed to packing for camp and you’ve really narrowed down your long list of stuff over the years.

the campers aren’t in the cabin yet but they will be soon, and that’s when the chaos will begin. until then though, you plan to go help Amara unpack in her cabin, walking out the door of you’re own.

you suddenly bump into someone you hadn’t seen here before, a sharp pain now lingering on your right shoulder as you fall onto the small pebbles scattered on the ground. you groan out in pain but ultimately go to apologize to the figure as you begin to stand up.

that’s when you fully take in the boy your looking at. he’s straight out of a book in the best way possible, wavy brown hair that’s split down the middle, a few strands placed on his face. his eyes are a light shade of blue that make you want to melt onto the floor with the way the sun reflects off of them, as beautiful as he is, he doesn’t look pleased.

another thing you make note of is his few piercings, a few on his ear and one on his nose—for whatever reason it weirdly made him more attractive to you.

“watch where you’re walking” he mumbles under his breath, ultimately continuing in the same direction he started in.

you wipe your dirty hands on you shorts. “oh yeah uh sorry” you almost call out as his back now faces you, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. “asshole” you whisper under your breath.

most people at this camp were kind, it was rare someone here wasn’t as excited as you were to be attending, but as your eyes follow the boy, you know he’s one of few who’d rather be anywhere else.

you try to get the thought of him out of your head. not only was he rude but there was also something intriguing about him that weighed on you.

he had a look in his eyes that you were drawn to more than the colour of them, a look of hopelessness that drove you insane.

you weren’t even sure why he was here, some random guy who looks like he hates his life wearing a hoodie on the hottest day.

it was all weird, but you try your best to shake the thought of him out of your head as you walk to Amaras cabin.

the next few hours go as normal. you help Amara unpack her cabin which is help she desperately needed.

you’ve never understood how you could be best friends with someone so different from yourself.

by now it’s evening, the sun is still shining fully as you make your way to the dining hall with you cabin. the kids are chaotic, but for the most part they listen to you, and you appreciate it.

naturally you are a leader, which stems from your need to be in control— it works for this job, so for the time being, you get teased slightly less by your peers.

once your kids are sat at the long table, with food on their plates, you take a moment to look around the hall—subconsciously looking for the boy you had your interaction with earlier in the day.

as your eyes trail across the tables placed accordingly in the hall, you see every face but his.

“councillor when can we leave?” a small hand pokes your arm, snapping you back into reality.

you smile down at the girl and place your arm on her shoulder. “just a few more minutes” she groans but ultimately agrees.

looking around once more you finally see him, and to your immediate surprise, you find out that he’s a camp councillor.

councillors are usually people that have gone to the camp growing up and yet here is a boy you’ve never seen before, helping some kid open the ketchup container.

the boy was immediately blunt with you, rude even, but here he is with a new sense of purpose in his eyes and if you look close enough you could see a small smile.

this alone could send you into a spiral.

you never liked the idea of someone disliking you, even if you also didn’t like them—you had wrapped your head around the idea that the brunette boy was just mean to everyone, but the way he talks to kids has you thinking differently.

weirdly enough you’re hurt.

hurt over someone you’ve barley even spoken to all because there was a small glimmer of hope that sparked within you that he’d offer you a helping hand off the ground.

you should have known your life isn’t one that’s capable of being in one of the romance novels that you spend hours obsessing over.

the plan for the night was to have a campfire with all the cabins together while some facility told stories and sang songs. as a child this was your favourite part—the huge bonfire that heats up your face if you get to close, and the acoustic guitar playing in the background brought you comfort.

once again you have your kids riled together as you make your way down to the forest where the fire happens.

there is benches scattered throughout and at this time the campers are able to sit with whoever they want, meaning the councillors can too.

so once your cabin is situated you look for Amaras face on one of the benches.

it doesn’t take you long to see that she’s now flirting with one of the older councillors on a bench in the back.

the way his hand drops on her knee and the eye contact the two are holding makes you wanna puke. you would be happy for her if you thought that he’d be more to her than a hookup, but you knew he wasn’t.

if it wasn’t clear enough already, you were a virgin. technically you had your first kiss in freshman year at the dance but it wasn’t memorable in the slightest because the boy didn’t mean anything to you.

it’s not because you didn’t want to fall in love and go along with the intimacy that follows, but you were hopeless around boys—always saying the wrong thing or wearing the wrong outfit. no matter what it was, according to boys you were a walking turn off, and your best friend happened to be the opposite.

so now you look for a spot to sit, deciding to choose the seat furthest to the back, away from everyone while you think.

you were grateful you brought a blanket because although it’s nice out, the breeze leaves goosebumps all over your arms.

you knees make their way to you face as you curl up on the cold wood bench—you loved camp but something about this year was different and you weren’t sure why.

regardless, you kept your eyes trained on the fire in the distance, completely oblivious to your surroundings.

completely oblivious to the fact that the boy from earlier just sat down next to you. “why are you sitting by yourself? don’t you have friends here or something” he asks, rubbing his hands together to create friction and warm himself up.

you practically jump at his first words, eyebrows furrowing as he keeps his gaze towards the flames ahead. “why do you even care?” you stopped for a second, realization hitting in. “if you’re just here to make fun of me then you may as well go because you aren’t the first”

it didn’t make sense that the same boy who completely avoided you was now making conversation—kind conversation or not, it was weird.

he just chuckles. “that wasn’t my goal but if the shoe fits” you roll your eyes and look back away from him. “you just seem like a social butterfly who’s currently sitting by herself, away from like everyone here” he looks to you now, which you can see in the corner of your eye but you choose to ignore it.

“you see my friend over there?” you point towards the blonde that now has her legs sprawled over the older councillors lap, the boy next to you just nods. “she’s my best friend, but as you can tell she’s a little busy right now, and no chance i was gonna sit next to that sheer amount of pda”

you aren’t sure why your sharing with the guy who once gave you dirty looks, but his demeanour is different now—slightly more welcoming.

“ahh i see” he just sort of nods his head and keeps his eyes focused on the pair. “what’s your name?”

immediate confusion sets in. “what?” you look to him now, expecting a laugh or something but he’s dead serious, so you speak again.“y/n”

he nods again slowly. “i like that, it suits you”

you’re not entirely sure how to feel about the sudden compliment. “thanks” you wait a second before speaking again. “are you going to tell me yours now or are you remaining mysterious?” you tease, weirdly enough now enjoying your time with him.

he smiles slightly. “hmmm it would be more fun to not tell you” the way he looks at you could make you fold. something about his eyes hold power over you that you can’t comprehend. “i’m Matt”

you just nuzzle your face into the blanket slightly more, turning your head to look at him as you wrap your arms around your shins. “so Matt, what brings you to camp?”

he’s silent for a moment, and you can tell he’s grown slightly uncomfortable, which is hard to understand for you.

a question so simple wouldn’t cause most people to feel awkward, but here he is, shifting in his seat, mentally debating how to answer.

“can you try to not be judgemental?” this question intrigues you more than anything.

what could possibly be more embarrassing than being a camp councillor for 9 year olds?

you just nod, trying to smile supportively but ultimately furrowing your eyebrows slightly at the question.

“it was here or military school”

oh. shit.

you try to kind any looks of judgement that may make their way to your face as you muster up the courage to ask a question of your own. “what did you do that warranted that? like were your parents sending you?”

you could ask a million more questions, but you don’t want to interrogate the poor boy who’s being vulnerable with you.

“i kinda got in to the “wrong crowd” or whatever” he uses air quotes to emphasize his point. “and i had a couple of juvie scares for vandalism and trespassing and shit so my parents basically gave me the ultimatum”

suddenly it makes more sense why he looked so miserable when you first ran into each other.

you find yourself internally conflicted on whether or not him breaking the law actually matters to you. he’s a nice enough person—not striking you as the type to be an actual criminal.

so you shrug. “i feel like there’s worse crimes to be committing” this makes him laugh, his hands covering his eyes as if he’s about to wipe away tears of joy.

“i didn’t strike miss “goody two shoes” as the type to be okay with that” he must be able to tell the way that nickname immediately ticked you off because the look in his eyes is one of actual empathy. “struck a nerve?”

you just groan into the blanket in front of you.

something in the way he said it made you slightly less mad at it—maybe you just like his voice enough for it to be okay.

you lift your head and fix your fizzy strands of hair that made contact with your forehead. “it’s kind of what everyone calls me”

you sigh. for some reason you feel like it’s okay to tell him how you feel, although you’ve never told another soul this before. “i just wish i was more than that, like i wish my whole personality didn’t rely on my rule abiding tendencies”

he looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “you use really big words sometimes” you just roll your eyes, now being referred to as a nerd as well. “no wait i like it, i don’t think it’s a bad thing to be smart, i wish i was better at saying what i mean or whatever”

once again your thrown off by his abundance of kindness.

“i won’t call you that again i promise” he sticks out his pinky, and as dumb as you feel, your inclined to interlock your own.

“thank you” you look back to the fire and see a bunch of kids now standing, signalling your need to go and line them up—it was pretty late after all. “see you tomorrow Matt”

he nods his head, gesturing you to the clueless kids, as well as saying goodbye to you. “see you, y/n”

a/n: praying you guys like this as much as i do bc it’s my favourite thing to write rn i’m obsessed with it

taglist: @tastesousweet (ily)

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets fan fiction

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

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Rapture (Alastor x Ex-Partner!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST.

Word Count: 3,000

Previous Part: Ritornello

Next Part: COMING SOON

Master Lists:

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A/N I got a request a while ago to continue this so here is the next part!! Sorry for taking so long. When you guys request things,, it lets me get to them quicker which I appreciate (esp when its about my own projects) :)

It had been about a month since Alastor had joined the hotel staff and things were going smoothly. Well, as smoothly as they could go when trying to rehabilitate sinners but, some good things had occurred. The best of them had been the addition of their newest guest: Sir Pentious.

Y/n had been suspicious of him at first, as had Vaggie and Angel Dust. They had heard of him before, fought with him in the past according to Pentious himself. Y/n knew the demon had a desire in him, a want to become what they despised most. It became quickly evident that when he had joined the hotel, Pentious had not only given up his war machines but that dream of his as well.

Settling in to the new pattern had been... difficult. It was such a strange thing for Y/n to be around Alastor. There had been a time, a long time, when they had known his every affect, the essence of his being. That time was gone. He was not the many they had known just as they were not the demon he had known. However, there was something that lingered between them still -- the memory. It filled the silent spaces, consumed the air. It was large and complicated.

The first week or so after his arrival, Y/n had been a wreck. They didn't cry, they didn't yearn for him, but they still suffered. It was so hard to escape the old patterns. Each demon found themselves nearly doing things, saying things, experiencing things that belonged in the lives they had once led, not the ones they were involved in now.

Y/n had stopped missing Alastor when their relationship with Charlie had solidified. Suddenly, despite the fact that he was right before their very eyes, inhabiting the same places as they did for the first time in three decades, it was almost like they were loosing him all over again.

Slowly, the need to stop themselves faded. There was no longer the necessity of catching the words in their throats, of pinning their hands to their sides, of burying questions or requests in the recesses of their minds because the need, or habit perhaps is the better word, began to fade. New routines came into being. The world kept turning.

Still, there was the odd awkward silence. Still, Y/n felt a tingle in their spine, butterflies in their stomach, when they ended up alone together. Alastor just smiled through it all, like he always had.

The only real step Alastor had taken that showed any emotion at all towards his former lover was that he blocked any contact Y/n had with Husk and Nifty. Y/n was intent on interrogating them, seeing what sort of a master he was, learning their stories and working to free them from their contracts. Alastor must have sensed this, must have guessed, drawing on his own experience with them, that they would want to do something like that. Every time Y/n managed to come even close to a moment alone with one of them or the appropriate environment for a more personal, private conversation, he appeared and shut it down.

If Y/n were younger, they would have thought it was a game. Perhaps some part of them still saw the competition in it all but, if they did, Alastor couldn't tell. They had changed -- god had they changed -- but, so had he. Change was what time did to a person. He couldn't blame them.

Alastor spent a lot of time watching Y/n. He wasn't sure why, for what he was searching. It was a compulsion. He searched for the bits and pieces he remembered of them, tried to fill the gaps between who they were, and the person standing before him now.

There had been some things he was able to observe. Firstly, Y/n's diet had changed. While before they had eaten whatever was available, now they seemed only ever to eat raw meet. Alastor had absolutely no idea why and the only plausible reason he could come up with was simply that they liked it. Second: where Y/n used to spend hours composing, messing around with various instruments and musical genres, they were rarely found with even their lute in their hand nowadays. Alastor knew that a busier schedule provided by Charlie and the hotel could be at fault but, that answer was unsatisfying. Y/n loved music more than anything, more even, Alastor was almost certain, than they had loved him.

There were a handful of other small details, minor things about the way they held themselves, the musicality of their voice as they spoke. Then there was the biggest change, the cloud looming over his head. This was the way Charlie had changed them.

The days of Y/n running off, rushing away mid conversation, were gone. They regulated their emotions with much greater ease now, Alastor had even caught them doing breathing exercises a few times. There was a certain sense of freedom he hadn't seen them hold within themselves in a long time, not since they had first gotten together. While on the one hand he was happy for them, grateful beyond belief that Charlie had managed to help them regain that sense of themselves, it hurt on the other. It hurt so much because he had tried and this was the evidence that the failure had been his, not theirs. He had tried, he had given them his all, and it hadn't been enough but somehow, in some way, Charlie had been.

Charlie had been enough for Y/n. Charlie had... had... Alastor hadn't.

Something had happened. Alastor didn't know what because it had happened without him. If he had had the chance to talk to Y/n about the interim, the time they had spent apart, he would have. The thing was, Y/n didn't seem too keen on the idea of a private chat.

They were never rude to him. No, they always kept a friendly lilt to their voice, said hello to him when their paths crossed. Alastor could tell they weren't avoiding him either. He knew that if they were, he would never see them at all and he saw them all the time so it wasn't that. Still, every chance he had, every spare moment they shared just the two of them, Y/n found a way to quickly and kindly exit the conversation.

Alastor could force them to engage with him, he knew that, but that had never been their style. There was no precedence for it. He lied to himself, saying it was just that he knew how Y/n would react if he tried to capture them, to force them into any situation they didn't want to be in. He needed to be at the hotel and Y/n had the power to remove him from his position. He told himself that, again and again, while the real reason lurked under the surface.

The truth of the matter was: Alastor did not want to force them. He never wanted to force Y/n to do anything, whether physically or through mental manipulation. Even the consideration of such action felt like a betrayal of them, of himself in a way, of what they had.

What had they even had? Alastor had been in love, loved Y/n still in an odd and nostalgic sense but, he was also angry with them. The newfound regret of having failed them mingled with the decades old infestation of anger, of feeling like they had failed him. At the end of the day, they were the one who had left first. Alastor might have said the words, pulled the trigger, but they were the one that left. They had withdrawn from him long before that conversation on the hill. Y/n committed the murder, allowing the corpse to dry out in the sun, to be picked apart by birds and wild animals. Alastor had just buried the body. It had been the right thing to do, it had been necessary.

Slowly, the silences between them lost most of their tension, became a bit more comfortable. Slowly, they each learned to inhabit their new roles in one another's lives. There had been something and, yes, that something was gone, but there was a new something growing in its place. Alastor had thought the ground was barren. He was grateful anything grew at all.

They were gathered in the lobby, Y/n running a workshop on how to properly wrap presents. Alastor, like the rest of the hotel staff, had been invited to participate but, he had opted to watch. It was a skill he already had, one he had no use for. There was no need to learn what he already knew, but watching Angel, Husk, Pentious, and Nifty struggle was entertaining.

"Okay, well..." Y/n put a finger to their chin, gazing at the box Nifty was holding up to them with pride.

It was perfectly wrapped in white paper with a big black bow on top. Beside the bow, Nifty had drawn a detailed picture of a cemetery for all the bugs she had killed in the hotel thus far.

"You did a great job." Y/n finally settled, patting Nifty on the shoulder, "Well done."

Nifty squealed in glee, turning to present the box to Angel for him to examen. Angel had managed to get tangled up in his project and, realizing this, Nifty quickly dropped her own in order to help him. Witnessing this, Y/n smiled.

Alastor felt the place where his heart would have skipped a beat if things weren't so complicated. He felt the lack of an emotional reaction almost more deeply than if he had had one.

Just as Y/n moved to help Nifty untangle Angel, Charlie bolted into the room.

"Y/n! Y/n Y/n Y/n! I figured it out! I finally figured it out!"

Y/n turned to Charlie as they came to a stop before them, breathing heavily. Their brow was furrowed, their head tilted slightly to the side in confusion.

"Figured what out, Sunshine?"

"Your curse?" Charlie replied as if Y/n should have known.

Y/n tensed. Charlie didn't notice, but Alastor did. He knew them too well not to. It also did not escape him how actively they were avoiding looking at him.

"Y/n, if you get redeemed, wont it go away? Curses can't exist in Heaven, can they?"

His mind was absolutely reeling. What curse? In all the years he had known them, Y/n had never once mentioned a curse. The others gathered seemed equally as surprised and at a loss as he felt.

"I..."

At last Y/n looked at Alastor. Though only a few seconds had passed since Charlie's revelation, it had felt like an eternity. Charlie followed the path of their gaze, the smile falling from her face immedeatly.

"Fuck, wait, I... fuck. I'm so sorry, I-"

Y/n took a deep breath, turning back to Charlie with a smile fixed firmly upon their face.

"It's alright."

"No!" Charlie insisted, "I swear, I di-"

"No, Charlie, it's alright. I told you, I stopped looking for a cure years ago."

"But you cou-"

"I don't want a cure." Y/n shook their head, taking Charlies hands in theirs, "I want to stay here, at the hotel. With you."

Almost as soon as Y/n had spoken, Charlie's eyes filled with tears.

"I... I..." she stuttered for a moment before throwing herself into Y/n's chest, "Thank you!"

Y/n patted Charlie's back with a comfort that was unexpected to Alastor's eyes. The look on their face as they pulled Charlie from them, wiping the girls tears, was a sort of kindness Alastor had never seen.

A curse? What curse?

A million questions flooded through his mind as he continued to watch the pair.

"I have some business to deal with, are you okay with me leaving?"

Charlie sniffed, nodding her head slightly.

"Do you want to help finish the workshop? We're wrapping presents."

"You're wrapping p-pr-presents? That's so sweet!"

Charlie's tears started anew and Y/n chuckled, ruffling her hair comfortingly.

"You sure you're okay if I go?"

"Just go." Angel advised, getting up and walking over to Charlie, "we can handle this."

Y/n shot him a grateful smile before turning on their heel and walking up to Alastor. He looked down at them, his expression unreadable.

"I'm ready to talk." they stated.

Alastor nodded.

"Let's go."

----

When the shadows released them from their grasp, Y/n half expected them to be on the hill, their old haunt. It would have been fitting for Alastor to do something like that and he had every right to be so cruel in their mind. Instead, he had brought Y/n in to their studio. The anger radiated off him, the confusion, and still he had thought to offer them such a kindness.

Y/n, their back to Alastor, balled their hands into fists. They could feel the panic rising in their chest, the fear. They took a few deep breaths before turning to face him.

"Do you want to ask me anything? Or do you just want me to talk."

Alastor crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised as he tapped one foot impatiently on the hardwood floor.

"Stupid question." Y/n nodded, "Right."

They took one final steadying, breath and then, they began to speak.

"So, curse. Um... fuck."

It wasn't that they hadn't thought about what they would say before. They had. They had played this moment out in their mind in a hundred different ways a hundred different times. Nothing had ever seemed right, felt right, gone right. Even if it had, they had no idea of where to begin now. The memory of all that practice had been ushered out long ago by the anxiety.

"Some overlords got mad at me and cursed me?" they said at last, their words coming out as more of a question than a definitive truth, "I..."

"Is this why you always left? Is this..." Alastor ran a hand through his hair, looking away, "is this what your secret was? The curse?"

Y/n nodded and Alastor sighed.

"I know you must be furious." Y/n began, trying to keep their voice steady, "Angry that I was so foolish as to allow-"

"That's not why I am angry, Y/n." Alastor cut in, "That's not why..." he shook his head, "I am angry because you didn't tell me."

The breath caught in Y/n's throat. They took half a step back.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Halfway between an accusation and a plea. He was begging them, he had only done that once before. Y/n hadn't been strong enough then, but they were now.

"Because it was my burden to carry, not yours."

"I carried it anyways! I knew something was wrong, for years! I just had no idea what, no... no... frame of reference. Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I... I..." there was no hiding the truth, Y/n looked away, "I was scared that you would leave."

Alastor watched them in disbeleif.

"And you left anyway." they finished.

"I left because you didn't tell me. We could have stuck together, figured it out. We could have..."

It was Y/n's turn to be angry now. They turned back to him, their eyes alive with fire.

"We could have what?! You could have what?!" the scoffed, "You think I don't know it was all my fault?! You think I don't... don't blame myself for everything?! Didn't know why you really left?! Didn't... didn't realize?! I fucking know that you left because I didn't tell you! I know I caused... that I..." they let out a frustrated little scream, their hands tangling into their hair, "I. Know."

"You could have told me then, why didn't you? Why didn't you stop me if you knew you could!?"

"Because I was scared!"

Their eyes began to grow dark, their skin shifting and writhing like there were bugs crawling beneath its surface. Seeming to notice this, Y/n closed their eyes, taking a few deep breaths before opening them once again.

"Is that the curse?"

"Part of it." they admitted, "If I don't stay calm, I don't get to stay... well, stay me."

The reality of the situation hit Alastor like a ton of bricks, like a moving car. He did his best to calm himself.

"Whats the rest of it?"

Y/n said nothing and so, he tried again.

"I could have helped."

"Helped how, Alastor?" they asked, their voice coming out tired and nearly desperate, "How?"

"I could have found a cure."

"There is none." Y/n shook their head, "Believe me. I can do things to stave it off, keep it at bay but, nothing will take this beast away from me."

"You could try being redeemed."

They raised a fist to their chest, holding it over their heart. A pained expression had taken over their face, their body curling slightly in on itself.

"I don't want to. Not anymore. It... this thing... it's a part of me now. Besides, I couldn't leave Charlie."

"She has lots of people who care about her, people to take care of her. I am certain she would be fine."

"No, you don't understand." Y/n shook their head, "I can't leave her. I know she'd be fine on her own. She is such a wonder, such an incredible person. I need her."

"I wanted you."

Y/n straightened up, their eyes meeting his as their hand fell back to their side. They stared at one another in silence.

"I am sorry."

Alastor had never expected to hear those words. Not from them, not from anybody. He wasn't worthy of apology.

"I am too."

----

NEXT PART -> coming soon

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whimsyfinny · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: Nudity

Chapter Word Count: 2552

—-MDNI—-

A/N: sorry this one took a while! I’ve had so much going on, I’ve struggled to get time to myself. I wrote this over the course of several nights so pls let me know of any errors as it’s only proof read by me

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 7

Dean and I stood side by side in the dimly lit parking lot, trying not to make eye contact with each other as Sam stood in front of us; arms folded across his chest with his foot tapping impatiently. He gnawed on his bottom lip, frowning and shaking his head. He was the spitting image of an angry mother.

“You did what?” He asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Look, Sammy,” Dean started and I was unable to tell if he was about to be boastful or apologetic.

“Don’t you ‘look Sammy’ me. We’re on a job Dean, couldn’t you have kept it in your pants a bit longer?”

“Sam I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean for it to happen, it just sort of…did,” I stepped in, embarrassment taking over as I caught sight of my reflection in the Impalas drivers side window. My hair was tousled and my lipstick was almost completely worn off save for a few streaks under my bottom lip. That, and also the fact that my shredded underwear was currently scrunched up in Deans pocket. I couldn’t tell if I was more horrified when I saw him pick them up off the study floor and ‘save them for later’, or the fact that I may have developed a new kink for having my panties sliced off my body with a hunting knife.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s eyes softened, “you have nothing to apologise for; Dean should know better.” His words made Dean scoff.

“She’s not all sunshine and rainbows Sam, she’s the one who started it.”

“I did not! I only told you to kiss me, not fuck me into that desk!”

Sam’s eyes widened and his ears went pink, Dean snapping back at me before the younger brother had a chance to think.

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Yes, you definitely did. Don’t lie,” he paused, his tone changing, “you can’t deny it sweetheart - you wanted me,” Dean smirked, gesturing to himself.

“Ok, prove it - what did I say?” I crossed my arms across my chest, remembering I wasn’t wearing a bra. His smirk grew, suddenly making me very aware that I was most likely wrong about this and he was going to be obnoxious about the fact that he was right.

“You said - and I quote - ‘are you gonna fuck me or what, Winchester?’ Now to me, that sounds like you instigating this.”

I scowled at him, wanting to slap that lipstick-smeared smirk right off his face.

“Fuck you,” I spat, rapidly having to cross my legs where I stood as I started to feel more ‘essence of Dean’ trickle down my thigh.

“You already did darlin’.”

“Ok ENOUGH!” Sam got between us, putting up his hands, “let’s just finish the job and go home. But just so you know,” he pointed at us, “you are BOTH in VERY big trouble.”

The ride back to the bunker was a little awkward. I sat in the back, not wanting to move too much for fear of making a mess on the impeccable upholstery and Sam sat in total silence, giving us both the cold shoulder. Dean however drove the whole way home with the biggest grin on his face, occasionally glancing at me in the rear view mirror. Sam had taken the liberty of packing everyone’s luggage into the Impala before we had even left the auction house, so I wasn’t even granted the simple pleasure of washing Deans intoxicating scent from my hair in the motel shower. I just had to sit there for the next three hours breathing him in and replaying every red hot second of our time together in that study.

Dean pulled into the underground garage to the bunker and before he’d even put it in park I’d thrown the door open and jumped out, racing back to my room. I heard Dean shout after me but I had sprinted too far to know what he’d said. I ran through the corridors like a princess in a castle; long dress bunched up in my fists so I didn’t trip, with the rest billowing behind me as I frantically searched for my destination in this labyrinth. Upon reaching my door I flung it open and raced inside, slamming it behind me. I paced into the bathroom, heels clicking on the tiles and flicked on the light before turning the shower on and wincing at the loud clanking still coming from the plumbing in here. As the water began to patter into the shower basin I hurriedly peeled off my shoes and my dress before sticking my toe into the water now pooling in the bottom. The moment it was the perfect temperature I stepped in, sighing as the liquid poured over me and washed away the electric tingle on my skin left behind by the older Winchesters hands. I felt normal again, and much less sticky too as I lathered soap over myself. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as I slid down the tiles and sat down, letting the shower soak my hair. I tried my best to steady my mind and be calm, but all that I could think about was Dean. The way he touched me, running his rough hands over my soft skin. The way said my name; moaning it in a deep breathless voice. And oh boy… the way his mouth felt on mine was like something out of this world, the taste of him alone made me dizzy. I wanted to run to wherever he was right now and press my lips to his - to get high off of him again. It’s a crying shame that he’s such a jackass, so naturally I’m reluctant to give him the satisfaction. He’d be smug for days - or weeks - if I even mentioned that this was how I was feeling, let alone if I was actually acting on the impulses.

I must’ve sat in the bottom of the shower for at least twenty minutes, my brain going over the events on a loop, replaying again and again. In the end I gave up trying to silence my thoughts and turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fuzzy white towel around myself. I grabbed a smaller second towel and dried my hair, leaving it damp but not dripping as I walked into the bedroom. I searched for my duffle for a few minutes before it dawned on me: it was still in the car. ALL of my clothes were in there.

“Shit shit shit shit,” I searched through the wardrobe and dresser in the room, hoping to find something, ANYTHING, that I could wear to go and retrieve my bag but there was nothing to be found. I sat on the edge of the bed contemplating my options as I started to shiver, my damp hair making me cold. I considered wearing the dress again, but the stains on it made me think otherwise as I was now clean and fresh from the shower. My eyes darted to the door. There’s only one option: theft. Deans room was right opposite mine and he didn’t spend much time in there so the chances of me running into him were slim. I stood up, determination coursing through me as I marched to my bedroom door, opened it and quietly stepped into the hallway. I looked left and right, sighing in relief at the emptiness. I quietly padded across to Deans door, incredibly aware of how cold the air was out here. I grasped the handle and twisted, the door opening with a small click.

“Yes!” I whispered to myself, grateful it was already unlocked. Ducking in I closed the door behind me and spun around, pressing my back to the cool wood to observe the room. Eyes widening, my blood ran cold and I dropped to the floor. Dean was asleep - or so he seemed to be - above the covers and still fully dressed in his suit, a nudie mag open and covering his face. He had one hand behind his head and the other rested on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath. FUCK. I looked around whilst on all fours, feeling the dust from the floor sticking to my damp skin. So much for the shower. I spotted Deans dresser off to the side of the room; if he was asleep, I should be able to sneak in, grab a T-shirt and sneak out again with no problem. I crawled over to the drawers and started sliding them open painfully slowly to inspect the contents. It wasn’t until I opened the fourth drawer that I struck gold. Silently cheering to myself I snatched the first T-shirt I saw and pushed the draw closed. As I turned around to leave I near enough jumped out of my skin, shrieking a little. Dean was now laying on his side, head propped up with one hand and he watched me in total silence, the corner of his lips turned up.

“You need any help down there?” His voice was low and gravelly.

“No thank you,” I stood up, clutching his T-shirt in one hand and trying not to let my towel fall with the other, the corner now refusing to tuck in. “I got what I came for.”

“And you need one of my T-shirts because…?”

“None of your business,” I taunted, inching my way towards the door. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“It is if you’re being a little thief.”

“I’m only borrowing it.”

“Sure you are sweetheart,” he grinned, turning to lay on his back again, this time propped up on his pillows against the headboard with his hands behind his head. There was silence for a few moments as he chewed on his bottom lip, eyeing me up and down. He made me feel totally exposed. Out of nowhere he jumped up, reaching me where I stood by the door in one swift movement.

“I tell you what - you can keep the T-shirt for life on one condition,” he stepped closer, those piercing green eyes keeping mine entranced. I swallowed.

“What condition…?” My voice suddenly felt very small and quiet as a result of his close proximity.

“Drop the towel and put it on.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I wasn’t able to stop the heat rising to my cheeks and I couldn’t tell if it was from frustration at his arrogance or the fact that the low rumble of his voice was making my knees weak. The words bouncing off the walls in my mind failed to leave my lips, and in my silence he spoke up again.

“Or unless you’re happy walking all the way to the garage in nothing but a towel, you still have the option to refuse.” I scowled and smacked his chest.

“You knew?! If you knew I’d left my bag behind, why didn’t you bring it?”

“Because,” he put his hand on the wall beside my head and leaned in a little, “where’s the fun in that?” I tried my best to hold his gaze, fighting every urge to look away as my heart started to beat faster and faster. I’ve already fucked the man so what have I got to lose? I placed my hands firmly on Deans chest and pushed with enough force to knock him back, the backs of his knees hitting the edge of the bed, making him collapse onto it. Leaning back on his hands he looked at me expectantly as I took a step towards him and away from the door. I tried my best to keep a stern expression, refusing to let him know that any of this was affecting me - the last thing I wanted was for smug old Dean Winchester to know that everything he does makes my heart hammer in my chest. I threw the T-shirt at him, hard enough that he was taken aback as he clutched the dark fabric in his large hands. A look of disappointment started to cross his face before I reached up and untucked my towel letting it fall to the floor as I stood in front of him, fighting every urge not to cover myself up. At first I was unable to look him in the eye, scared of what that alluring evergreen stare would do to me if I did. Eventually I caved in, biting my lip as I saw how entranced he was; eyes flitting over every curve on my body, studying me like a work of art. I watched him swallow, throat bobbing as he licked his lips, jaw going slack and his pupils dilating. He was silent. I took another step forward so I was in reach of him and his hand immediately shot out to touch my thigh. Right as his fingers grazed my skin I smacked his hand away, pulling him from his trance.

“Please…” was all he managed to say, all cockiness gone from his attitude. I snatched the T-shirt from his loose grip, pulling it on over my head and down over my body, finally covering myself from his burning hot gaze. Dean was finally pulled from his trance when he could no longer see the curves of my figure, his eyes eventually meeting mine again. He looked a little flustered, his hands now crossed in his lap.

“My clothes look good on you,” he said, an unusual tone to his voice - something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He eyed my chest, observing the way the loose black fabric fell over the soft curves of my breasts and did little to hide my perky nipples. His eyes travelled south, surveying the rest of me before stopping and lingering at my thighs right where his top ends, hinting at the shape of my ass cheeks hiding underneath. He probably would have sat there all evening and ogled at me, however I could feel the tiredness start to hang heavy in my body and weigh on my eyelids, getting worse as the minutes passed. I groaned internally, remembering I still needed to go and get my duffle. But there was something about the way that Dean was looking at me that was making it hard to leave. I took a few more steps towards him until I was standing between his knees, swatting his hands away as they skimmed the backs of my thighs, sending goosebumps over my skin. I grabbed his chin unexpectedly, making him flinch. However it was only a matter of seconds until he was like putty in my hands. His muscles relaxed and he looked up at me with hooded eyes, mouth agape as I tilted his chin up to face me. I leaned down, our lips millimetres apart as I felt his hot rapid breath fan over my cheeks. I watched his pupils blow wide at the close proximity, a shiver ghosting over his skin as he stared up at me.

“Goodnight Dean,” I hummed, before letting go and standing up straight, turning to leave the room. I picked up my towel and opened the door, looking over my shoulder one last time to witness the starstruck Winchester sitting in a daze right where I left him.

“Thanks for the T-shirt.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 8 part 1

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #supernatural smut #smut #eventual smut #spn #supernatural

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httpswritings · 5 months

Text

We don't have to wait all night. - Katie McCabe & Hayley Raso.

Additional info: inspired in The Veronica's song “In My Blood”. You may want to check it out before reading.

Warnings: suggestive tone, not smut.

Summary: Katie and Hayley meet in Hayley's and Caitlin's hotel room.

Hayley had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a few knocks on the door. She only had a towel covering her body. Her messy, wet hair falling onto her shoulders, dropping some droplets on the floor.

“Caitlin, did you forget your key?”, Hayley shouted.

Two more knocks.

“Who is it?”, she asked.

Nobody replied, but the knocks kept coming in.

Stressed-out, she opened the door in a not too friendly way.

“Dear lord, WHO is— Oh, hello...Katie? Can I help you?”

But Katie did not answer instantly. Instead, she glanced at Hayley, from the top to the bottom, slightly aroused.

“Oh, yeah. I'm looking for Caitlin. She told me that she was staying in this room. Room 43, is it wrong?”

“No, no it's not. Come in if you want!”

As Katie entered the room, Hayley told her that Caitlin hadn't come yet to the hotel after the match as she had to stay to do some work related stuff, not specifying anything else more.

“You can wait for her here. I don't think she's gonna take long.”

“Better to wait here than in the lobby, but only if you're comfortable with the idea.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Katie kept silent but glanced again all over Hayley's figure and then smiled at her.

Understanding what Katie was referring to, Hayley said, “Oh, yeah, don't worry. I'll get changed in the bathroom. Take a sit on the be—, on the floor, or do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure you're okay with me staying here? You seem a bit nervous.”

“No! I mean, ye—, I MEAN, I'm not nervous. I find it funny. Not even one hour ago, we were on each other's throats during the match.”

Katie chuckled over Hayley's comment.

“Yeah, it's funny if you think so. I put you to work today.”

“You what? I put you to work. Don't get confused, McCabe.”

“That's not what the streets are saying. They all agree with me beating your ass.”

This should've made Hayley angry, it somewhat did, but she was also enjoying this conversation to the point that she had forgotten that only one medium-size towel was covering her body.

“Oh, so you wanna talk about what people are saying about you? Maybe you won't like everyone's opinions.”

Katie had a few ideas in her mind about what Hayley referring too. The Australian woman was right, Katie was not in the mood to talk about the gossip people have been tying her name to. Instead she tried to changed a little bit the direction of the conversation.

“What about you? What opinion do you have about me?"

The Irishwoman couldn't properly focus on the conversation. She had that one player, the one who had been fighting with during the match, almost naked in front of her, with a light brown towel around her body. Her hair falling down her shoulders in a messy way, some droplets falling onto Hayley's soft skin, and the essence of shampoo and body lotion impregnating the room.

“I've heard you are into Aussies.” Hayley said with a smirk, referring to Katie being linked to Caitlin Foord.

“Anything else?”

“You seem the type of person who's really sweet off the pitch. A little bit timid I'd say, in some occasions only. You probably hate feeling vulnerable, so you are very selective with whom you let to know your most authentic self. Very family oriented too. Am I wrong?”

“No. I'm actually impressed.", She didn't like Hayley almost perfectly spotting her personality, did she?

“Good. My turn. What do you think about me?”

“I haven't gotten a good first impression from you.” Katie lied. She felt the need to. Hayley was getting too close to see her soft side. She was right, Katie was too protective over people seeing her vulnerability.

Was she, Katie Alison McCabe, the one who usually intimidates people, the one who was feeling intimidated by Hayley Raso?

“I haven't met a lot of Irish people. Are they all these arrogant like you?"

“Hey! Watch your mouth.“ The Irishwoman said as she clenched her jaw, feeling a bit uneasy.

Katie felt such a pride from Ireland and from what it took to represent her country, that Hayley's comment didn't sit well with her.

“I'm sorry. It was not my intention to insult your people. I wanted to tease you, not to harm your identity as an Irish.", said Hayley sincerely, worried about having pushed the conversation too far.

Katie found herself smiling as a way of accepting Hayley's apology but immediately stopped as she felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen.

“Maybe I should get into the bathroom to get changed. You've had enough of me for today.” As Hayley headed to the bathroom door, Katie stood up.

“No! I mean, don't. I get it was a misunderstanding, and you didn't mean it. It was a good tease, tho. If that's what you wanted, you did succeed with it.”

The Irishwoman was going through such an internal conflict. Her rational mind was warning her about the consequences of what this conversation could lead to. But on the other hand, her irrational mind, the one who was being tricked by the lustful atmosphere and Hayley's presence, was aiming her to get lost in Hayley's teasing.

She bit her lower lip and took two steps towards Hayley, not too far away, not too close to her.

The Australian woman was intoxicated by Katie's strong gaze.

For the first time in a really long time, she felt unaware of what to do, so she kept in silence.

“So?”

“So, what?”

Katie noticed she had a little bit more of control over the situation, and she was starting to enjoy every second of it. It was her opportunity to tease Hayley back, and she was not going to waste the occasion to push it until the very end. No matter how it turned out.

“We, the Irish, are quite friendly as long as we feel comfortable with the other person."

Katie took another step forward.

“I know. I just told you I didn't mean t—"

“Shhh. Do you really know?”

Another step forward.

“Because maybe I'll have to be the one who shows you exactly how we truly are.”

Hayley's cheeks were started to have a reddish tone, so prominent as a contrast to her white skin.

“How— How are you— are you going to show me that?”

“Well. You've seen me on the pitch. Why don—”

“Caitlin has seen you too, and you were going to see her after the game. That's why you're here.” Hayley said in a sharper tone, cutting the lustful atmosphere off.

“Maybe we do have something going on. Maybe something not too serious. Maybe that won't make you deny my offer.”

“Maybe I do. I'm no one's sloppy seconds.”

“I know. I don't want you to feel as the second option.” Katie took a final step forward and took Hayley's right hand with her left hand, quickly squeezing it.

“Don't feel obliged to. Take your time to think about it. You can call me anytime, beautiful.”

As Katie headed to the door, it was now Hayley's turn to stop her.

As she grabbed her left arm, she asked her to stay.

“I'm curious about you. I've heard that you said you enjoyed our match being a really physical one.”

“I did. Being physical on the pitch is one of my strengths as a player. I thought it was well-known”, Katie dramatically said, as she gained a cute chuckle from the Australian woman.

“Don't worry. It is well-known.” said Hayley as she rolled her eyes.

“You said— You said it was always a battle to play against me. Did you enjoy fighting against me as much as I did enjoy being physical with you?”

“You can tell I did. Not my favourite way of being physical, but I did have a great time.”

Katie's eyes opened widely as she held a shocked expression for a few seconds. She was not expecting that kind of answer from a Hayley Raso that was slightly embarrassed in front of her not even ten minutes ago.

“Did I scare you, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“You seem—”

“No. I'm fine. Just curious about you too. Tell me which way you enjoy being physical the most.”

“I don't have enough time to properly show you that. Caitlin's gonna arrive any time soon. Does she even know you're here waiting for her?”

“No.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Tell me what do you want, Katie, and with whom.”

As Katie sighed, the door slowly opened, so she grabbed Hayley into the bathroom and locked the door”

“Rass, I'm here! Hayley?"

“Yeah, Cait, I'm taking a shower. Well, I'm about to.” Hayley shouted from the bathroom as she turned on the tap.

“Okay.”

As the sound of the water falling down in the shower, Katie whispered, “She's not leaving?”

“Why the fuck would she leave, Katie? This is her room too. Now tell me why have you locked us in the bathroom?”

They both tried to not be heard by Caitlin, who was laying down on her bed scrolling through her phone.

“What's the plan?”

“You're asking me? You are the one who has locked us in the bathroom, with me being almost naked and you being this near me."

The water kept falling down the tap, camouflaging Katie and Hayley's voices.

“Look, we need to get out of here. You can message Caitlin and tell her to meet you in your hotel room, or in any other place. I can't take a shower for too long, or she will eventually get worried.”

“I haven't answered your question.”

“Katie, this is not the right ti—”

“Shh.” the Irishwoman said as she placed one finger on Hayley's lips.

“I have a thing going on with Caitlin. Nothing too serious. Kind of a fling as we both have just gotten out of a relationship. But it's not easy to have you like this in front of me.” she said as she let her head fall on Hayley's right shoulder. “It's not easy to smell your skin, to sense how soft it is.”

She slightly moved her head, making Hayley shiver.

“I want you to show me your favourite way to being physical, as you said earlier. Not here, not like this, because as you've said, we don't have enough time. I'm not implying to wait until nighttime, because we don't have to, but know that I also have the urge to show you my way of doing things. Things I want you to enjoy without being in a rush. Slowly but steady.”

As Hayley was at a loss of words, Katie continued.

“Don't feel pressured to accept my offer. Have in mind I don't have anything serious with Caitlin nor with anyone else. I'm not prepared yet. As you've said before, I don't like feeling vulnerable in front of people I don't consider close to me, so—”

“But, you're being vulnerable now while telling me this.”

“I know. And it's not easy. But it's sincere. I have no idea of how we are going to get out of here because even if Caitlin and I are nothing serious, I don't want to put you through this situation. But know that I'll be more than happy if today, tomorrow or whenever you feel ready, we spend some time enjoying each other's company.”

“Hayley? I need to use the bathroom.”

Both women inside the bathroom looked at each other with a worried expression.

“The door it's locked Cait. I'm sorry. Wait until I'm done.”

As she heard Caitlin swear, she pleaded Katie, “God, Katie, message her anything. She needs to get out of this room so you can leave.”

As Katie agreed to do so, she looked for her phone.

“What?”

“My phone's out there. On the bed.”

“WHA—”

“Shh.”

As Katie rushed to cover Hayley's mouth, Caitlin asked confused, “You okay, Rass?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Are you always this noisy?”

“Katie, not the time for this kind of jokes.”

“I'm not joki—”

“Rass, I'm going to Sam's room to use her bathroom. Take your time, girl. Let's see if when I come back you're still playing The Little Mermaid.”

As they heard Caitlin getting out of the room, Katie rushed to grab her phone and left, not before leaving a soft caress on Hayley's cheek, “Keep me updated, beautiful mermaid. You know my Instagram.”

Surprisingly, Katie succeeded into getting out of the hotel without being caught by any Australian members.

As she was on her way to her hotel, she received a few messages from Hayley.

hayleyraso: It wasn't easy for me either to have you so damn near me.

hayleyraso: Let me know if you have any ideas for our meeting...today

Katie smiled.

katie_mccabe11: I'll book a room in a hotel where there won't be any football players staying. Not an easy task, though.

hayleyraso: okay, pretty girl

katie_mccabe11: see you later 🧜‍♀️🫧🛁

#katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #hayley raso #hayley raso x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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mintsuwu · 9 days

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The final part of the Smiling Critters Family Headcanons!!

Picky Piggy

Picky Piggy and her family reside in the serene countryside of Jolly Valley, where the vibrant greenery and bustling farm life create a picturesque setting for their adventures. The Piggy family, comprising Benjamin Cowbell, Polly Porkella, and their lively triplets: Picky, Itty, and Bitty, embodies the essence of rural harmony, where hard work blends seamlessly with moments of joy and connection.

Polly's backstory paints a vibrant picture of her past life as a city girl, adorned with numerous accolades and triumphs from contests and competitions across the region. But even though she enjoyed participating in the competitons as a hobby and for fun, the busy life and training it endured, along with the pressure from her parents (even though they only wanted the best for her), was something that began to weight upon Polly as she grew up.

It was amidst the rustic charm of a rural fair that she serendipitously encountered Benjamin after running off from a contest she didn´t want to participate in, their chance meeting sowing the seeds of a deep and enduring connection in the future. They talked a bit on that first encounter, but they didn´t get to know each other´s names due to him having to leave early as his parents were waiting for him so they could return home together. Things didn´t change much in a few years from that first time, as Polly kept on participating in contests and growing famous as Benjamin kept on with his busy yet simple life as a young farmer, helping his family. One day his friends encouraged him to join a local competition and even though he didn´t know the prize, he won. It turned out that the winner got to have a date with a well known critter around the competition world... Who happened to be Polly Porkella herself (she was forced into this situation). And despite the initial confusion they were both very happy to see each other again, and they used the time of the date to know each other (and they names) properly, as well as catching up. The two of them kept in touch after that second meeting, communicating through letters most of the time.

When Polly was old enough, she seeked a more peaceful life, aside from the contesting world, and moved out with Benjamin when she had the chance, as they decided to start working in their own farm nearby CritterVille. With the passage of time, their bond flourished and their family grew, enveloping them in a tapestry of love and shared values. Despite the mischievous antics of their energetic daughters, Benjamin and Polly remained steadfast in imparting the importance of hard work and empathy.

Even though the Piggy family is numerous on its own, they also have other family members nearby them. One of them being Sturdy Donkey, who happens to be Picky´s cousin. The teenager spends most of his time working as the town´s carpenter along with his father or with his friends, but he tries to go over and help at the farm as much as he can. And in return his group can hang out and rehearse their music in one of their barns (hence the name "Barn Gang"). Picky sometimes goes over to listen to them or simply talk, and even asks if she can invite some friends over in one ocassion, to which they all agree. However when the rest of the Smiling Critters went over, there was a little surprise factor (and family drama) in regards to Pecky, Kickin´, and secrets kept between siblings... But that´s a story for another time~

BONUS

- Polly is a very skilled swimmer!! And Picky got that from her mother, but no one will know about that talent unless there is a beach episode or something /hj

- Clucketta, Kickin´s mother, goes over to the farm to visit and help Polly as they are very close friends. And by that Picky and Kickin´ knew each other even though they didn´t talk much at first. Though one day Kickin´ opened up to her, showing how he was concerned about his friend Bubba as his mother had passed away recently and he wanted to help him. Picky then suggested to bake an apple pie in order to cheer him up. The young elephant was incredibly touched by the gesture, and from that moment the three of them grew really close (even though he and Kickin´ knew each other long time before that). That was the only time any of the Smiling Critters had seen Bubba cry.

- Just like Picky, Kickin´ and Bubba are very close, Polly, Cuckletta and Mr. Bubbaphant (I will give him a name someday I promise) are very good friends as well! Polly is the most determined of the group, Cuckletta kinda follows along (even though many of the times she is confused and scared of what is even going on) and Mr. Bubbaphant watches closely in case they need help or just don´t get into trouble (like their kids lmao)

#fanart #oc #headcanon #poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters oc #the smiling critters #picky piggy #sturdy donkey #polly porkella #benjamin bellcow #itty piggy #bitty piggy

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serawritesthings · 5 months

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AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #Hurt no comfort

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baldurs-gape · 13 days

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My beloved @faetxlity has done some incredible (adulting) things and I promised a reward. They requested some Karlach and Astarion cuddling which I was over the moon to provide. I hope you enjoy it, beloved friend.

Hot, Cross Bums

The annoying thing, according to Astarion, about Waterdeep was the fact that it had seasons. Proper seasons of hot summers and cold winters. The warm summers were a wonder, there was nothing better than lying on the sun warmed stone benches after dusk and bask in the ambiance of the surroundings. If someone ever tried to capture the essence of happiness, Astarion on summer nights was it.

Alas, good things almost always had an equal and opposite bad. In this instance, it was winter and the cold it brought. Sure, the nights were longer so Astarion could be out and about more if he so wished, but to leave the warmth of Gale's tower was to faze the biting cold. Wrapping up wasn't an option, not for Astarion at least. While Gale was basically his own heat generator and could trap the warmth with the layers, Astarion had no such luxury. The best he could do was boil a couple of eggs and pop them in his pockets to warm his hands. And, if Gale was with him, they also served as a rather nice snack when he got peckish.

To add insult to emotional injury, Gale wasn't always around to warm up against. It just wasn't the same to huddle by a roaring fire in a warm room, Tara in his lap, Astarion craved body heat almost worse than he craved blood. Sadly, only one of those problems could be fixed by descending into the basement, and there wasn't a bit of heat to be found down there.

As the winter term at Blackstaff drew closer, Gale wound up working more, trying to help students wrap up their end of term assignments. It kept him away from home, and Astarion, for longer hours. Even though they knew this was going to be the case, Astarion didn't waste a single opportunity to bemoan this. Something had to change.

That something was a knock on the door and Astarion ventured down to see who it was.

"Fangs!" Karlach's booming voice was enough to knock him back just as much as the tackle of a hug bowled him over. "Magic man said you'd be home!"

All grumbles were melting in Astarion's throat as he basked in the heat his friend exuded. It was divine. Nothing else mattered for the moment, not the open door letting in the cold and the weak sun, not the breeze, not even that people walking past could see them. Finally feeling warm for the first time since Gale left their bed was all Astarion could think about.

"Hells, you're freezing. Come on, show me your favourite napping spot."

It just so happened to be the couch by the fire, big and soft enough to pretty much swallow Astarion whole like a loving, vegan mimic. Karlach flopped down on it with a "whoop" as she wriggled around for optimal comfort then tugged Astarion down next to her. Doing his own shuffles to get comfortable, he accidentally poked cold feet against Karlach's thigh. Usually, that got Gale yelping which, in turn, made Tara look at them with disdain. Instead, Karlach gave a throaty moan.

"Fuck, I forgot how damn good you can feel." She eyed him up with a grin. "Heads up, soldier! Incoming!"

That was all the warning Astarion got before the world tipped and turned. The next moment he was sighing as heat seeped into him from cheek to toes as Karlach settled him on her chest where they lay.

"One more thing!" Deft as ever, she dragged the throw from the back of the armchair down and spread it over them. Within a minute a wonderful heat surrounded Astarion and he groaned in appreciation. Even when Tara hopped up to settle on the small of his back, he didn't grumble. Warm, well fed and content, he actually slipped into a trance withouth meaning to.

Coming out of it, the first thing he heard was Gale and Karlach talking. There was drool under his cheek and his ear felt rather creased and numb as it drooped from where he'd been lying on it.

"Wha-?" It wasn't his most eloquent moment but Astarion didn't yet have it in him to care.

"Hello, my love." Gale smiled and reached to wipe his cheek with a thumb. "You look like you needed that rest."

"Fangs, did you know you snore? All 'snorkmimimi' like a kitten."

"Do not." Astarion was warm, comfortable and not in the mood to deal with being teased. So he took the simple route to avoid it all. Turning to mash his other cheek against Karlach for warmth, he indulged in trancing some more despite not truly needing it.

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #astarion/gale #astarion & karlach #astarion #bg3 astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #karlach #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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meganwayne24 · 2 months

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A Ticking Clock (pt. 4)

They weren’t kidding when they said time is of the essence.

Fandom: Insomniac Spider-Man

Word Count: 1325

Pairing: PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader

Synopsis: It was time to talk to Harry after an exchange that left you both scared and hurt.

[Warnings: 18+, some shirtless bits, intimate moments]

Flying through the air, you couldn’t help but feel guilt. Did you have a right to be angry? He was going through more than you’d ever know. Why were you so upset? All of this started to flood to the front of your mind as a web extended from your hand and kept you secure to the wall of the building. Moving along the walls, the transparent glass was covered inside by the curtains you’d seen many times. Past the shiny grey trim, there was a slit where the sheets separated.

You saw Harry sitting on the couch. His hair was slightly messier than normal. He looks tired and a little pale. He hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all. He puts on a brave face, no one knows how deeply he’s struggling, including you. He takes a slow deep breath in. A cup of water in one hand, his pills in the other. He places the pills in his mouth all at once. He swallows the water, his head tilted back. A trickle of water was left at the corner of his mouth that he wiped with his hand. Despite him no longer having the suit, he was well-built. His arms had veins that your eyes tended to trace to his hands.

Harry stood up and slowly paced towards the window using his cane. You watched him move, forgetting you were in the middle of his view.

He was frightened but he didn’t have a big reaction. All he saw were the white eyes of the suit, enough for a scare but not unexpected anymore.

“Y/N?” You could see his lips moving forming your name. You symbolized “one minute” using your pointer finger. You crawled your way around the tower. It was the only appropriate term for it. You found an opening that led onto the middle floor of the establishment. You revealed yourself from the suit, not in sight of any security cameras and took the elevator, which you weren’t overly fond of, to the space Harry tended to occupy the most.

Stepping into the hallway, grateful for the feeling of solid ground, you took a breath. The colours seemed to stand out this time despite how dark it was from the night. The maroon carpeted floor, shaded walls and accent tables made you feel nostalgic of all the time you spent there. All the time that’s passed, how everything’s changed. You suddenly became aware of the ground at your feet. You took the necessary steps towards Harry’s door. You knocked, not hard, only enough for him to hear.

He opened the door looking down at you. One arm held onto the door while the other was sitting against the doorframe. You thought it was because of his pain, but he didn’t look uncomfortable.

“Hi…” It was the only thing you could think to say. You looked down, afraid to face him. After all the emotions you felt against him, he was still Harry.

“Hi.” You both stood in silence momentarily. The tension was awkward and solemn. It didn’t feel like the two of you at all. “Uh, would you like to come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry stepped away from the doorframe and opened the classic brown door for you. Walking through the apartment felt different, which was to be expected. Harry followed behind you.

You both sat on the couch taking the places you had taken the night everything changed. Now that you were here, you weren’t sure what you had to say. You missed him, you wanted him back at least as your friend.

“So…you took the elevator up here?”

“Yeah…”

“How was that?” There was awkwardness in Harry’s voice. Almost like talking to a crush, but one that you didn’t think liked you back. He knew of your aversion towards the rising and falling entrapment. This was his way of trying to open you up. He never gave himself enough credit for his intelligence, let alone how clever he is.

“I mean, I survived. That’s all I got really.” Harry and you let out soft laughs. It felt nice to share a moment that you wish were everlasting. Once the meshed sounds of your voices fizzled out, you felt the sensation of the cold air against your skin. You shifted, trying to find a comfortable position despite the stress surrounding you.

Harry was sat forward, his hands clasped on his knees. His grey baggy shirt clung to his chest and flared at the bottom. He wore black and white plaid pajama pants that you couldn’t help but blush at. His eyes glanced at you whilst his head was down, his auburn hair falling slightly from its regular position.

“Y/N I’m sorry. The other night I just felt…” Harry let out a stressed sigh. “Okay, I’m not used to this. Explaining my feelings I- I just felt jealous I guess.” You didn’t understand. Jealous of what? He saw the confused look on your face. “Look you know when Pete called me that night? And MJ called you? Pete started asking all about the suit, which I get. But…” He seemed hesitant to continue. “Pete has it all right now. Spider-Man, this new suit, more time with you because of it. I just feel like I’m losing more than I expected, and I’m scared.” He looked up from his hands that he’d been picking at while speaking. Your eyes were glued to him and his movements. He looked at you deeply. “I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes quickly, appearing ashamed of his emotions.

“Harry…” you were taken aback. “I’m sorry. But I promise you, you’re never going to lose me…at least not of my own volition.” Again, more lighthearted laughs. “Because, you know, I did almost die the other day. Not my fault, but it did happen.” You winked at Harry, giving him a mischievous smirk. “But even then, I choose you. Okay?”

You looked into each other’s eyes. Harry’s always seemed to change colour with the light. Sitting in the dark with the moonlight shining through the window, they were a hazy grey. A moment transpired, both of you eyeing each other’s lips. You both began to lean in, your hand reaching to touch the side of his face. A loud intermittent buzzer started going off.

“Oh you have got to be kidding.”

“False alarm. Just a timer I forgot to turn off.” He put his phone on silent and placed it on the hardwood table.

Your stomach was in knots, remembering the last time this happened. Your breathing staggered. Harry took notice of it.

“Hey,” he cupped your face gently, hiding your surprise at the size of his hands up close. “I’m here. And I’m not stopping this time. Not if you don’t want me to.”

You felt the want, and the need that had been building up for years. You were being given the chance now. Before you could think, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his. You moved your arms down around his neck. Harry placed his hands on your hips. It felt like a perfect fit. The time between each kiss became shorter. They became more passionate. He slid his hands down to your thighs, lifting you so that you were straddling him. He slowly raised your shirt and planted kisses softly up your stomach, then your shirt off and threw it behind the couch.

All was well until the suit started pushing out tentacles around you. You were swarmed with this feeling of danger. An image of fighting an armored man in the middle of a cemetery flashed by your eyes. You felt dizzy, losing your balance.

Harry was holding you, preventing any potential fall. “Y/N are you okay?” He stroked your hair, moving it out of your face.

“It’s Peter. He’s in trouble, and I think he needs my help.”

A/N: come on now, I couldn’t just give you guys everything at once lol, gotta have some buildup of course. im so busy with school rn but trying to be consistent-ish. thanks for the patience :)

#harry osborn fanfiction #fanfic #harry osborn x reader #harry osborn ps5 #insomniac spider man #harry osborn x y/n #peter parker #marvels spiderman 2 #spiderman ps4 #spiderman #spiderman 2 ps5 #spiderman ps5 #spider man ps5 #spider man 2 #insomniac peter parker #insomniac harry osborn

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gattnk · 9 months

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It's hard to forget Ang-Lì and Mefisto, for the oddest reasons.

These two were unlucky enough to become cut content in the cartoon, and I can see why: the cast was huge, the new plot had a stronger focus on the protagonists, and sadly Ang-Lì and Mefisto were sort of... tertiary in the comics. While it seems like the comic was just about to pick up the pace with them, it got discontinued right before they got their moment to shine. I did my best to take all of this into account, and here's my resulting notes on the redesign process:

I dug up all I could about these two to make sure I understood their characters as much as possible, since the comics themselves shared very little. Finding the extra content that came with the comics was crucial (the original printed issues included all sorts of cool stuff you'd expect from kid magazines at the time).

I noticed how Ang-Lì is usually very enthusiastic in the comic, often cracking a joke or two mid conversation, and he also has a passion for earthly comic books. I gave him pretty plain clothes to contrast with his joking nature, represented by the yellow-orange. This way the color and his personality really pop up!

According to the extra content, Mefisto's super laidback about most things, with the exception of music: he's a metalhead who may or may not pirate his favorite Earth bands, who's also the vocalist of the devils, and can't make it through the day without his headphones. So I just went with the classic metalhead look: dark shirt, washed jeans, wallet chain and thick wristbands. The duller colors go really well with all the green hair, it doesn't feel like too much.

I tried to emphasize their interests with their accessories since their clothes are quite plain compared to the other redesigns. Since Mefisto's headphones are so important to him, they also had to pop out, hence the orange, white and toxic green. In the meantime, Ang-Lì's kicks are a pun of sorts: he keeps the jokes running. lol.

Turns out Ang-Lì's mascot is a stick bug, who knew? He keeps it in his shirt pocket like a pencil, as a bit of a joke. Meanwhile Mefisto places his gecko mascot on his wallet chain, like those lizard keychain bottle openers that used to be popular in the 2000s. I thought it represented their respective natures well.

I actively chose to swap Mefisto's skin color. The devils could use a bit more variety, honestly, and it still holds homage to his old color palette. Besides, you don't see many black metalheads in media and that's a shame! Rock on my metal siblings!

Ang-Lì had a pretty solid design from the start that still holds up well, so the biggest personal change was the haircut. everything else (clothes aside) I kept pretty much the same.

That would be it for these two! Honestly, keeping their character essence was particularly easy, compared to my other redesigns (yes, even easier than Raf/Sulfus). Even with the little content we have, all in all they're pretty solid characters! So yeah, they deserved to be brought back in my rewrite, I'll Fly With You. I did my best to give them the spotlight more often in my planned script, let's see if I do them justice!

#my art tag #angel's friends #angels friends #IFWY #character redesign #ang-li #mefisto

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mackeralsauce · 8 months

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SLASHER AU - Plot Introduction

CW/TW for: descriptions of psychological horror, blood, gore, disturbing themes, etc. Basically, anything you might find in an 80s Slasher, or in Welcome Home's horror content.

The Backstory.

Wally Darling is a puppet whose origins are murky and not fully known. It is likely he was created to be used in a show, but that show never came to fruition and thus he was never brought to life. One hot summer night, he was found by a wandering kid, who discovered him discarded in the nearby woods. That kid ended up taking him back home and cleaning him up, bringing him to school the next day to show his friends. His friends were just as excited to see the new toy, and for the first time ever, Wally was being appreciated by others. This spark is what brought the puppet to life, although he did not reveal his living nature quite yet. Once the kid who discovered him brought him back home, Wally would sneak out of the house, trying to grasp his sentience.

Upon pondering his newfound existence, Wally realized a few things:

He quickly came to the realization that something was not right with his existence. He knew that he was supposed to be part of a show, and that in another universe, that had come to be. Due to this never happening, his existence is somewhat twisted and corrupted.

He has the ability to alter reality and time in some ways, the extent of which isn't truly known.

Although he couldn't exactly pinpoint why, he knew that his new friends were in some way supposed to be like him. Puppets. Yet they aren't, they're humans.

Still entirely new to this existence thing, and wanting to learn more, he used his powers to take on a human form much like his new friends. The next day at school, there was a new student introduced to the class: Wally Darling. He seemed to click almost instantly with the group that had found him prior. The group soon became childhood friends, and grew up together in the same neighborhood. Wally had used his abilities to fabricate an entire human backstory: a very successful father, a house just in the outskirts of town that no one had noticed prior, etc. No one had ever learned he was a puppet, and he had a feeling that telling them would end poorly.

As time went on, and the group of friends went to college together, Wally was becoming unable to rest. Why was the show cancelled? Why was he a puppet, but his friends human? What went wrong? It was driving him to near-madness. One day, he came up with a most brilliant idea...

If his friends are human when they aren't supposed to be, then why not turn them into puppets himself?

Of course, one doesn't simply just turn a person into a puppet. In order for a human to become a puppet, they have to be dead first. Then, their life essence can be transferred to a puppet vessel. It was a perfect plan! Or, it was to Wally, at the very least. Anyone with a sane mind could easily tell him this was a horrible idea. No one would willingly let their friend kill them! So Wally would have to be a bit forceful. Yet, every time he eliminated all of them, something would go wrong. When he would bring his friends back, they would be upset at him for what he did. Why wasn't it working?

Due to things never working out right, he would rewind time again and again. Perhaps the scenario was what was wrong, so he would change it up. Maybe it was the time, the place, the cause of death... He would try everything over and over just to see if it would work. The repetition of having to bring his friends to death over and over was making him desensitized to the idea of gore and bloodshed. As things kept happening, his methods got worse, and his state of mind more unstable. This is what led to the slasher-like gore-filled horror that is the Slasher AU. Will this group of 80s friends ever find peace, or will they keep experiencing horrors beyond their comprehension?

The Setting.

The AU takes place in the mid-to-late 80s. The fashion, trends, etc. generally fit that time period as a result. The location varies depending on the story, but most of them are at least close to the town that the characters live in. The majority of characters are human. There are living puppets, but most examples in history are either celebrities or the result of supernatural phenomena. It is unclear to the general public how a puppet is granted life.

The Characters.

The main characters started off as childhood friends. They grew close fast, partially due to all of them being made fun of for their own quirky traits that made them different than the rest of the class. Growing up together, they've become a sort of found-family, inseperable and sticking together in the face of everything that comes at them. As of the current time in the story, they are all college-age young adults.

Wally Darling: Wally, for as long as he can remember, has lived in the villa just off the outskirts of town. He was raised by his single father who happens to be a very successful businessman. Of course, this is what people think, at least. Everyone in the friend group knows one thing about Wally: he's the best friend you could possibly have, of course! He's always there to hang out with, give advice in a time of need, and lend something to a friend in need. Despite being socially savvy, his interests are often considered odd for his personality. He's much more into artistic endeavors, and has an especially unique interest in puppetry. Although his felt creations tend to scare others, he's actually quite a chicken! He hates horror movies and gets spooked easily. If you're looking for Wally, your best bet is to look for Barnaby. They're nearly inseperable! They often go out to hang, or even sleep over at each others' houses. You'll never find a better pair of best friends (and lovers)!

Barnaby B. Beagle: Barnaby was an orphan as a real young boy, but was taken in by a very kind Miss Beagle. It was tough raising him as it was hard for Miss Beagle to make ends meet. Despite the odds, she pushed through, wanting to give her son the best life she could. With a love for working on old cars and a penchant for jokes, Barns has grown to be quite the reliable guy. If you have a problem that needs fixing, he'll be there to help, and to share some of his mom's baked goods as well! He does struggle with a bit of a smoking problem, but only really indulges if he's stressed. If he isn't with Wally, you might find him digging around a junkyard for car scraps, or going to a car show at the local drive-in! If you're sitting in his car, you might be surprised by what plays on the radio: a mix of cheesy pop songs and glam metal! Barnaby's best friend (and lover as well) is Wally. The two stick together like glue, and are often found together. Wally has always been there to help Barnaby through the tough times, and Barnaby has always been willing to return the favor.

Julie Joyful: Julie's always out and about, often hanging out at the mall, or checking out nearby shops. When she's at home, its with her friends! She'll always invite the others over for an exciting sleepover. You ever have that friend that's always there to hype you up and help you stay safe? That's Julie. She'll fix your make-up, give you relationship advice, walk you home at night, etc. She's protective of her friends, and won't let anyone mess with them. She loves fashion and music, sure, but she also loves math and science quite a bit. She'll read up on various fields of study in her spare time out of curiosity. If that's not enough, she loves to rollerskate, and will go out skating with Eddie from time to time (she tries to get Frank to tag along, but he's scared of slipping up). Of course, you'll often find her with her bestie Frank. Despite appearing to be polar opposites, the two are great friends. They often talk about entomology and biology together. Julie has two girlfriends: Sally and Poppy. She loves them with all her heart and is always spoiling them at the mall. They have lots of sleepovers together where they talk about anything and everything on their minds, and share hobbies with one another.

Sally Starlet: Sally is never at home, but that's because her passion is for the stage! Her work in musicals and plays takes up much of her time, but the other time is for hanging out with friends. She's an important part of the local theatre scene. Film fanatic and born performer, Sally lives for the drama and lives for the fame. While she could live without it, she has to admit that she loves attention, specifically if it's earned by captivating an audience with a story. She loves to watch the newest movies with her pals. Just be warned, she'll pick it apart for all of its inconsistencies! She knows her stuff and won't hesitate to point out if an adaptation was done poorly. Sally also quite enjoys making papercrafts and playing board games. She hosts a game night every weekend and introduced the group to tabletop roleplay games. Due to her love of drama, you can always find out the latest news from her, whether good or bad. That doesn't mean she'll stand for ill-intentioned gossip though! Sally's closest gal-pals (and lovers!) are Julie and Poppy. She loves to rant to the two, and enjoys taking them on movie dates as well. She'll often express her love for them through story recommendations and similar.

Poppy Partridge: Poppy is a bit of a homebody. She rarely leaves the house unless accompanied by the others, often sticking to the kitchen or her room. She has an internship at the local bakery, so she'll often be found there as well, baking fresh pies and desserts. It takes a bit to warm up to Poppy. She struggles heavily with anxiety, and tends to be very shy as well. It's not that she dislikes company, but she's scared of upsetting people, so she avoids the difficulty of meeting new people to prevent that. Even though it takes time to earn her trust, she's quite the friend, often providing a warm hug to those who need it. She enjoys trying out new recipes to share with her closest buddies, but doesn't like using new cooking tech. She prefers to stick to the older tools left in her mother's cupboard. She also enjoys knitting and sewing, and is always eager to help a friend with a fashion disaster. Her wardrobe is always on top due to being able to make whatever kind of clothes she needs for the ocassion! Poppy is very close to Julie and Sally. The three are girlfriends, and often stick together. Poppy always helps Julie make new fashion pieces to wear out, and helps Sally with costumes for theatre productions. In return, the girls are always there to provide her a safe space and to comfort her when the going gets tough.

Frank Frankly: Frank is quite a studious young man, often staying pent-up in his room, only coming out to hang out with friends or eat. His dad often has to tell him to lighten up and live a little. He's proud of him, but really worries for his mental health. A bit genius, but also a bit paranoid, Frank is the group's thinker. He's good at scheduling hangouts, but will also tense up at anything even slightly a risk. Despite his stiff personality, they all love him the same and do all they can to help him loosen up. He spends a good chunk of time at the library reading up on insects, plant care, and local urban legends. Although he's always on edge, he's easily entranced with stories of cryptids and monsters. He likes the mystique behind it all and enjoys solving mysteries as well. Give him a puzzle, and he'll think it through within minutes. Despite this, there are still some things that he struggles to grasp, like jokes for instance. His best friend Julie is working on that with him. Frank's got a soft spot for his lovers, Eddie and Howdy. Although he's always so high-strung, his lovers help calm him down, bringing him a light-hearted laugh every now and then. He thoroughly enjoys reading Eddie's poetry, and helps Howdy with calculations at his job sometimes.

Eddie Dear: Eddie's house-life isn't too notable, he's got a loving parent who supports his life choices. However, he has quite the active work-life, often trying out different jobs when he has the chance. Of course, his main and most steady job is working as a mailman for the local area. While he seems big and intimidating, Eddie is one of the sweetest guys you can meet. He tried lots of things when he was in highschool (choir, band, football, the whole nine yards!) and hasn't quite stopped trying everything since, even in college. Although he gets overwhelmed easily by the amount of options in his life, he has an ambitious spark, one that pushes him to discover himself and live life to the fullest. Eddie's favorite things are quite a colorful variety. He loves to rock out to metal, write poetry and love stories, rollerskate at the rink, and dance with a partner! He's gotten picked on in the past for his softer interests, but his friends have stood up for him time and time again. Eddie is a big softie for Frank and Howdy, his two partners. He's always trying to deliver hand-written notes and gifts to the two. Whenver he gets startled by a bug, Frank will take care of it for him. Whenever he needs an ice-cold soda after work, Howdy's got his back.

Howdy Pillar: Howdy has a bit of a chaotic house life. Having quite a number of siblings and cousins, he doesn't get much time to himself at home. That's why you'll rarely find him there! He often will be found manning the family's bodega or hanging out with the others. Getting up bright and early every day, Howdy has one thing on his mind: success! He's a very optimistic fellow, although his mannerisms are more old-fashioned, almost as if he was born in the wrong generation. He likes older aesthetics and tends to speak like he came from an old film with mannerisms to match. Despite these oddities, he's a rather popular guy, likely due to the sheer positivity he radiates. He's been urged to try out sports in college, but never really clicked with them. What he really likes to do is hang ten and surf some waves at the beach. Sometimes, he'll also tag along with Barnaby to a car show now and again. Howdy is very close to Frank and Eddie, and the three are also lovers as well. He loves his two boyfriends with all his heart, and they're happy to have him as well! He'll often stay over at their houses to avoid having to come home after a long shift.

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home slasher au #lets goooo uhhh lore #took forever to type all this out #i accidentally deleted it all at one point sobbing

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