#she has no skills only brains
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Feeding Alligators 55 - Love Shack
Y'all get caught in the rain. Oh look! A barn!
On AO3.
You sleep like the dead. Don’t even remember conking out. Just the part where you wake up to the scent of woodsmoke, tea, and sausages.
Whatever high you were on yesterday is faded. You feel wrecked. Physically, mentally, like you got hit by a bus, dragged along for a mile, and then run through a meat grinder and repackaged into a human shape again.
The sausages don’t look all that appealing.
You sip tea as the others finish eating and packing. Thick clouds fly overhead, edging silver in the sunlight. Must be some strong winds up there. Hopefully, it don’t start to rain.
There ain’t much critters around. Occasional squirrel. The caw of a crow. But the rest is weirdly silent. Or maybe not so weird as the wind shifts and the rot and piss stink of the town washes over y’all.
The goblin camp is about an hour north, Mr. Eloquent said. You’ll have to track back through that village to get to the road.
“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” Gale says.
And if he don’t turn out to be right. Y’all’ve crossed about halfway through the rest of the village when the wind gusts moisture onto your face. Then the first drops fall. You get to hope for about thirty seconds that’s all it’s gonna do.
Then the sky opens and it dumps.
“Ah shit” you say.
“We need to find shelter,” Wyll says. “Storms like this will pass swiftly, but it’ll soak us through in moments.”
Karlach, sizzling as the rain hits her and immediately bursts into steam, lifts her arms and spins in a circle. “Rain! I haven’t seen proper rain in ages! Look! It’s not even blood!”
…huh.
The houses here are all half-collapsed, with no clear way inside. The lot of you jog up the hill, and spot some low building. A shack or a barn. It looks structurally sound.
“That one?” you say.
“That should do,” Wyll says.
Y’all boot-scoot over. The torrent gets worse. Turns the air silver. Water already streams down your face and you sputter to clear your mouth and nose.
The rush of it is so loud, you don’t even notice the sounds until you’re reaching for the doors. A low moaning, like some kinda cow or buffalo lowing for food.
“Did somebody leave their animals—”
Then there’s rhythmic grunting. Too low and…and too snarly to be human, but there’s some kinda words in there and the other…animal? It moans again. Cause that is a moan and your brain finally puts two and two together and sticks the solution into the square hole.
You step back.
“What’s wrong?” Gale says. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the din of the storm.
“Um,” you say.
Something thumps and bangs.
“Go on then,” Astarion’s voice right beside you. You do not jump. He stands a foot away, peering intently at that door. Fucker knows what’s going on in there. “We’re all getting soaked, dear. What are you waiting for?”
Bastard. He makes no move, offers no guidance; just stands there, arms crossed, looking bored.
The rain is cold.
“Fuck,” you say. Brace yourself. Push on them doors.
The scene will haunt you.
An ogre (ogress?) kneels on all floors, flopping tits bare, grass skirt hiked up over her hips. Behind her, some kinda man-wolf thrusts away. They both spot you and Man-Wolf pulls out, covering himself. But not before you get an accidental eyeful.
“Ah!” Gale all but yelps in horror.
“No,” Karlach says.
Shadowheart looks like she just accidentally swallowed a bug.
But Astarion, the fucking shithead, grins like the douchebag he is.
“What…what the hells are you doing here?!” Man-Wolf says, still overing himself. You don’t see no pants anywhere.
It’s not the floppy tits or the sex that gets you. Logically, ogres don’t just sprout out of the ground like cabbages, and sex always looks weird and super undignified to you. But the glimpse you saw of Man-Wolf showed what you assume is an average-sized, humanoid cock. Nothing like, abnormal about it. But that ogress is the height of the barn. And your brain, always the asshole, shoves its way to the front of the line to cut off common sense.
“How does that even work?” you say.
“What the fuck?” Man-Wolf says.
“The, you know, size discrepancy? How’re you even…does she even notice?” You really should stop talking. Ogress scowls and Man-Wolf has real big fangs. But the horror twines around with your scientific curiosity, and all you can think about is how a vet has to shove their whole arm up a cow to do like, bovine ultrasound. Man-Wolf wasn’t arm-sized.
“Ain’t you too small?” you say.
Astarion sputters and spins away.
“I think I’ll wait out in the rain,” Shadowheart says.
“I—you!” Man-Wolf sputters.
“Gragh!” the ogress bellows, and yeah, that’s why you shoulda kept your mouth shut. She glares down at you as she hauls herself up. “Moment over! Passion ruined!”
There’s something underneath her. A splash of color. That’s clothes. That’s a fresh corpse.
“Uh,” Karlach says as the ogress looms over y’all.
Only the big girl don’t lift a foot to squash your guts outta your mouth like a tube of toothpaste. She turns to Man-Wolf. “We go.”
“But, my sweet—” he says. Still don’t got his pants nowhere.
“We go.”
And ogress lumbers right off into the rain, tits swaying, just as the downpour eases up.
Man-Wolf’s ears pin back. He throws you a nasty glare and scurries out after his paramour.
Leaving all you in the barn, which smells weirdly musty.
“That…really happened,” Wyll say. “I’m not hallucinating?”
Astarion, curled into a ball, wheezes.
“I very much wish it were,” Gale says and rubs his eyes.
You stare out after the couple. Ruin a hand down your face. “How does that even work?” Notice the others staring at you. “What?”
“That’s what you’re focused on?” Shadowheart says.
“They’re two entirely different species! They shouldn’t even be compatible! It’d be like…like a dog trying to mount a heifer!”
Karlach actually grimaces. “There’s a visual I didn’t need. Thanks, soldier.”
“But it don’t make sense. You can breed a donkey and a horse because they’re similar enough, but…I mean…that? Is that a thing here?”
Lae’zel ignores the whole conversation to go search the corpse the two were literally fucking over (gross).
“Like,” you say. Your gaze lands on Astarion as he stands and wipes his eyes. “Elves exist, and so do humans, so do y’all have half-and-halves?”
“I’m a half-elf,” Shadowheart says. And oh. Her ears are shorter than Astarion’s. You never really made that connection, huh?
“But that means both species are genetically compatible. And, you know, physically. Is everything here like that? Because that’s fucking weird, y’all. That’d indicate a common ancestor way, way far back, which’d actually make them two closer to a pig mounting a bear—”
Gale claps your shoulder with one hand. And with a pain-filled grimace, says, “While I always appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, even I believe there are limits.”
And…they all look a bit green around the gills.
And you realize it ain’t about the evolutionary or sociological implications of inter-species fucking. You squint. “Are y’all seriously having a collective tizzy cause you saw them fucking?”
Wyll looks like he bit into a lemon.
“You’re not?” Karlach says.
You ain’t never had sex with someone else. You was raised to think that the literal worst thing somebody could do, the filthiest thing somebody could be. It made you disgusting, made you worthless. Then you got to the secular world and learned that not having sex made you a cringey weirdo.
So to spite the both of them, you learned about it. You learned all about it, because fuck the shame, fuck the farmstead, and fuck everybody (but not literally).
They got no idea how funny this conversation is for you. So it’s with a little bit of bravado, a lot a bit of truth, and a dash of gremlin in you that says, “No? It’s just sex?”
“I…think I’ll check the outer perimeter,” Wyll says. And leaves.
You survey the field—Shadowheart and Gale all uneasy, Lae’zel snooping through barrels, and Karlach wincing.
Ha.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion clears his throat and tugs his poofy shirt vest down.
You made the man outright wheeze. Your mouth opens, so ready to fall back into the banter of days before. God, it would be so easy to riff off him. He ain’t bothered by the whole display y’all walked in on, and he’d absolutely join you in horrifying the others.
But y’all are keeping distance, ain’t you? You got the keep the walls up. You can’t go around encouraging him. You got to suffocate that ember before it flames, for his sake and yours.
So you only give him a nod, and turn to the others. “Let’s get outta the fuck barn, huh?”
#feeding alligators fic#these two shitheads#astarion#astarion x tav#tavstarion#slow burn#she has no skills only brains#and sometimes being an asshole#plus size tav#demisexual tav
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#it's an old frustration. an old pattern of thought.#i just feel that i have a brain that doesn't hold information. that lacks the discipline to gain knowledge. that is incapable of deeper#thought. and i cant teel you how maddening that is. to sit in a room and listen to other people discuss a paper you read in depth 5 times#like it's the 1st time you ever heard anything about it. how is that possible? how do i work with that? i read and nothing sticks.#nothing stays with me. how??? i was talking to a prof recently who ive heard is hard on her students with disability accommodation. and she#was saying how she doesnt see these things as a disability. how we're just different not disabled. ive heard the phrase differently abled#a lot of times. and i get what she's saying. i do. ad i get why she's hard on them. she wants to push them. but there comes a point where#you are quote unquote differently abled and you run into a wall that other people dont have. then what are you supposed to do? work harder?#but what if that doesn't help? what if that just compounds the hurt that's always been there? what if that leaches away all the wonder? what#then? at what point does a thing become too much of a barrier? i think there's a reason i dont run into many other dyslexic grad student.#everyone has adhd. it's a place where those with adhd prosper. but dyslexia not so much. at least not with the level of hanicap i have#and everyone's really nice. they want to help. but there's nothing anyone can do for me at this stage. it's up to me to compensate for my#leaky head. and i kno im not stupid. ive got a piece of paper stating my iq is above average after correcting for uneven intelligence. but#i dont feel very smart most of the time. i feel more like my uncorrected iq score that comes out at just below average even with me trying#my very best. iq is bullshit but there's something to be said for that gap. im smart if unconstrained by language and time. but were bound#by language and we're bound by time so what am i supposed to do? is there anything i can do? im stuck with this forever. theres no getting#better or making it easier. my brain is wired in a way that gives me the reading skills of a child. forever. and i just have to accept that#and im trying to swallow around that idea easier because the only other option is to choke on it. but maybe i chose the wrong career path.#one of my lab mates said she wants challenges all the time and ive chosen a path that's challenges all the time but im jsut trying to do#what everyone else can without a second thought. it's deeply demoralizing. yet here i am. trying to be easier abt it.#maybe im just nit cut out for this. doing a job im not built for.#unrelated
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when gerard way said “when i grow up i want to be nothing at all” i felt those words in my gdamn soul bro
#cried alone in my car parked in my driveway for like 17 minutes#i feel so hopeless and useless and stupid so so so stupid i’ll never be smart enough like the other nurses#i can’t fucking think im too slow i don’t know anything#it’s the emergency room and god for fucking bid i have an emergent patient i don’t know wtf to do ever#i don’t know how to initiate protocols or contact interdisciplinary or put in complex orders i don’t know anything i’m so useless#everyone thinks i’m stupid i’ve been on orientation for like 2 months know and i’m still the same useless stupid novice airhead new grad#i just get so frazzled i feel like everyone expects so much out of me and i have to be perfect to meet their standards#but im stupid im subpar im not good enough like them like#ever if they’ve been nurses for years and i’ve only been working as one for legit 2 months it’s just i still don’t know how to do anything#it’s like i can’t think i don’t do things how they want me to do them and then i look stupid im the attending doctor thinks i’m so dumb but#she wouldn��t even hear me out like i know you want both fluids running i know it’s important but he only has.1 IV and they aren’t compatible#we’re trying to start a second IV and he had difficult veins like why are you trying to tell me i’m stupid i know why you ordered it thatway#it’s like nobody gets my dumbass brain but that’s not their fault bc they can think clearly and convey their thoughts to people without#sounding like a fucking dumbass i have no critical thinking skills im just useless i hate this so much i don’t want to be here it sucks#i never wanted to be a nurse i never wanted to be anything i was 12 years old hoping i’d be dead by 18#and now i’m 23 and i’m still fucking here but it’s clear i shouldn’t be i don’t fit in im not fit for society#i should be euthanized like an unwanted dog that’s been at the shelter for too long that’s exactly what i am#20min later still crying can’t stop being a fucking crybaby pitypartying myself i’m the worst oh my god grow the fuck up already#why is everything so difficult for me why can’t i just fit in literally everyone knows i don’t belong#i’m the dumbest most useless new grad orientee and EVERYONE knows it even management it’s so embarrassing#i’m so embarrassed to be alive and take up space that could be filled by someone so much better smarter prepared someone meant to be there#i don’t want this i don’t want any of this i never wanted to grow up im just a kid in my head i’m so pathetic#i wish i was smart and good at something i wish people looked at me and thought o wow i respect her bc she’s also a good nurse#nobody likes me i’m such a burden to everyone the doctors my preceptors other nurses who deserve to be there#i’m leaking snot everywhere today wasn’t even that bad but i think it’s all just hitting me now how helpless i am#i’m so tired of myself and waking up and making a fool of myself every shift fucking stupid loser i hate myself i try so hard and it’s not#it’s not enough it’s never enough im not enough im an imposter i’ll never be as good as the other nurses even tho i’m really really trying#i seriously don’t want to do this anymore i don’t want to be here i can’t do it everyone knows i’m not cut out for this they all talk shit#ramblings
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i am going to preface this post by saying i am not intentionally trying to make anyone feel old, But--
yesterday i found out that my coworker graduated in like 2011 right, n so i was asking her abt what Teenaged Life in the 2000s was like, and she told me that when she was in elementary/middle school, she'd submit her writing on floppy discs, and for whatever reason, that was just so unexpected to me. i just kind of assumed that people would either submit this sort of thing either handwritten or printed at home, and now i'm just kinda sitting here like "on floppy discs!!!!! (delighted discovery)" over n over to myself
#finding out that this coworker is almost 30 has immediately launched her to 'coolest coworker (to ME)' status#though i guess the fact that she is Also Queer helps with that. i asked her abt her gf n we ended up talking abt stationery#i remember looking through my dad's old stuff n finding essays he submitted that were typed on a Typewriter (in the 60s)#but like. that's a pre-computer era in my brain ofc one would use a typewriter#although when i discovered that essay i remember also being surprised it wasn't just submitted handwritten#anyway. idk i just think this stuff is cool!!! it's so cool!!!!!! i love learning the details of everyday life in now-bygone times!!!!!!!#the worm speaks#*squints out window* although i guess i should've expected the typewriter thing to have continued into the 90s at least#bc i remember seeing this cartoon called jacob two-two when i was a kid n the father char was a professional author#n he wrote using a typewriter. but i guess i must've assumed that was an anachronism? or for professionals only?#*shifting around a bunch of thoughts like tiles on a mahjong table* starting to notice that the coworkers i think are coolest are the oldes#which checks out bc everyone on this website knows that people just get cooler as they age. this is Proven. it's a Fact#like the coworkers nearer my age are Neat n all but i guess i get the feeling that i don't rlly know how to interact with/approach them#but the older coworkers are like chill and friendly n will talk to me First n generally have good n pleasant conversational skills#LOL i feel like a duckling that's imprinted on something or someone
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In my heart of hearts I truly do just want to write a self insert that interacts with the main story that's it really
#all of my self inserts are extremely indulgent and are locked into my Brain#but there's one concept that I've been thinking of lately that's vry fun and I've been tossing it about in my brain#they're a baby born from a templar father who managed to escape some time around 15 or 16#they began training from a very early age as their father wanted a soldier who could go head to head with the assassin's on their own turf#alot of cultish and bad stuff happened but they were managed to be rescued by a novice who became their first friend ^-^#most assassin's are still skittish and untrusting of her considering her templar upbringing but she was kinda... indoctrinated? from birth?#and had wanted to leave YEARS ago but only managed it in their teen years#but anyway. she usually works alone or with her two other assassin friends as one: no one really trusts her to begin with#and two: big BIG anxiety that makes it hard to work with people when they know that they're largely seen as a threat or liability#she's pretty high on the assassin ranking though! and their little team has a damn high success rate so vry few people have reason-#to complain. mostly newer recruits or those with a BIG grudge against templars in general#anyway physical description time. theyre like altair and that they only rly wear lighttttt armor. heavy or even mid armor is a big NO#vry vry sneaky and patient. is mostly an opportunistic assassin and relies more of stealthy tactics than brute force#but because of this they are NOT a super heavy fighter. usually tries to lean on surprise and skill rather than 1v1 fighting#if force comes to shove though they can most def fight. but tries to flee the moment they find an opening#is pretty mute! keeps things close to her chest and is still in the process of learning to trust anyone at all. even assassin's#wears black and white feathered earrings as well as small golden hoops. has a bunch of piercings#is much MUCH on the smaller. slimmer side but it actually kinda works cause most dont clock her as an assassin at first glance#this makes them good for infiltration and scouting work!#best pair for them is a more brute force assassin who leans towards defense :]#theyre a lil guy. I love them alot. they also have some isu bullshit going on that I might explain
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Sorry but I'll never stop thinking abt mp100 literally I think every main chara is some flavor of autist/adhd literally all of them
#thats why reigen is so spastic and st#such a strange guy bc hes just has impulse control but also is like has a bunch of hyperfocuses like thats why hes so good at so many#diff skills in diff bursts bc he gets focused on one and puts all his energy into learning it then he moves on the only reason hes still#running spirits and such is literally bc he loves mob otherwise he would be off on some other whimsy#ritsu and mob to me are clearly the siblings w/ adhd/autism but are percieved very differently and have diff levels of coping with it and#what their strenghts are#like i have a similar thing with my own siblings where we r all brain weird but all have different flavors and conflicting traits#then theres teru i think hes autistic and has mapped out a very specific social structure and rule for himself to follow so that he can fit#in and control how hes percieved#but then he still has you know off beat presentation and masking where he is just threatening and casual and wears silly clothes and just#sees that as the peak of fashion god.... hes everything to me#to me teru is the kind of person where he likes everything in its place in many different ways#then you have tome!!!!!! classic with special interests in games and aliens and telepathy and also inattention w adhd#and also tsubomi!!!! i think shes another great example shes very pretty and she knows how to kind of play her role and be polite but shes#very set in her ways and doesnt just do stuff bc its expected of her#and i think thats also why she and mob get along so well :) bc i think she knows he doesnt see her the way a lot of ppl see her and the#same is kind of in reverse where she doesnt see him solely for his powers or for his outward disposition (which is established to be why he#had such a crush on her)#its just about autist to autist communication in my opinion#talking tag
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me thinking about how I've always felt like one of the "odd"/more weird n solitary kids at school, most of my longest-lasting friends who I find easiest to get along with are neurodivergent in some way, and a lot of the characters I end up really vibing with in a "self recognition through the blorbo" way are also commonly interpreted as being neurodivergent for a lot of the same reasons that I relate to them about: "hmm this definitely doesn't mean anything. not at all. I am just bad at life and i just need to try harder"
#maggles ramblings#and yes i know none of this inherently means anything but i have been wondering about this kind of thing for... several years now#and i must say!! some of the coincidences seem a bit too consistent!!#luckily i am going to see A health professional in about a month's time. so hopefully they will be able to give me some thoughts#i just am not confident enough to say im even LIKELY to have anything bc if I'm wrong then I'll feel the absolute worst about it#> ignores the fact that my mum is literally staying in the mental health ward rn so if she has struggles I'm more likely to have some too#but yea it's like. well i have passable social skills... (bc i spend a lot of time quietly observing ppl instead of talking to them myself)#i did well at school ..... (but excelled the most in primary school when the worksheets were simple and quick to do -#and only got things done on time in high school bc of my fear that the teachers would be disappointed in me if i didn't)#some ppl are just easier to talk to.... (when i know they're more likely to say what they mean and not have any hidden expectations of me)#i don't have focus problems.... (i just find it tough to do things unless my brain decides i really want to spend several hours on it NOW)#surely my teachers would've noticed... (but i was good at the work and planned what to say to them so they didn't worry abt me)#im not as intensely interested in stuff though.. (i literally spend half my days rotating them in my mind i just don't want to bother ppl)#etc etc you get what I'm trying to say. brain has a million excuses as to why i just suck at life#also i literally only figured out the other year or so ago. that when asked how you're doing. you're generally meant to ask it back#I THOUGHT I WAS GREAT WITH MANNERS but whenever teachers would ask me i treated it like a. quiz or something#and sometimes i think i did that with other people too. so. apologies to anyone who has ever dealt with me answering that way#and not returning the question. i genuinely didn't know you were supposed to do that and idk how that slipped past me
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my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do
#if my dad had any brain cells or observational skills whatsoever#he’d realize that in terms of our faith the problem is not the boyfriend. that guy is brilliant and open minded and would probably ace RCIA#the problem is my sister. who is catholic in name but it’s clear to me how hard she’s fallen away from the faith#but like my dad has created such a bitter home environment we never have meaningful conversations with him#so like he doesn’t know *anything* about our inner lives#all he sees is labels. all he judges people by is labels#literally you can still get married in the church to a non catholic it’s just a matter of expecting them to convert eventually#and promising to still live according to the principles of the church and raising your children as such#but my parents are absolute fools if they think that’s the issue. if my sister was true in her faith her bf would have converted already#i am sure of it. the guy is smart he just needs to be guided the right way#evidently my parents don’t realize that about him either#if my dad could become a decent parent for once and stop trying to drive his kids away from the faith by only cherrypicking the parts of it#that intersected with republican/conservative boomerisms#ugh. if he was a virtuous father she’d be a virtuous daughter and therefore all her friends and loved ones would be virtuous as well#should i blame my dad for all our family problems? no.. not rightfully……#but like. the impact a father has on one’s life cannot be understated#ugh i’ve had the sense for a while that God wants me to be the one to fix this family#because looking around it doesn’t look like anyone else is gonna do it#but that’s such a daunting task… especially alone… i don’t have any true friends (ie who share both my faith and life experiences)#and like. it’s really hard to try to assume the role of a teacher or counselor when someone is older than you#or uh. in a position of direct power over you for that matter. esp when clearly deeply mentally ill#the concept of trying to essentially parent my own parent while i myself am miserable and unstable#esp when he is the primary cause of that#just. ughhhhh it’s such a vicious circle#like i’ll do this if i have to i’ll undertake that daunting mission but i have to be so careful and really sort myself out first#or for that matter if i were to volunteer to like. catechize my sister’s boyfriend (heaven knows she couldn’t do it)#i’d have to really study my stuff bc i think the intellect is the only real appeal here#like i said tho his conversion can probably never really happen as long as my sister remains the way she is#what i know is that the first step is fixing myself. i have to be a pillar of virtue if i wanna stand as any sort of authority on the faith#problem is i suck and shouldn’t be regarded as a role model for anything. i have the knowledge down but that alone won’t fix me
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MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin
Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
Ghost
The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.
He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.
But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.
He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”
He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.
He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.
“I’ll take care of you.”
König
“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.
“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”
You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.
“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”
König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.
“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.
“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.
“Mean.”
He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.
“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.
“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”
Soap
“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.
Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.
Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.
From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.
“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”
He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.
His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.
His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.
“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”
Valeria
Corruption kink to the MAX
Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.
And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.
Alters her brain chemistry permanently.
There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.
So why shouldn’t she own you, too?
Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.
She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.
But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.
“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”
Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.
“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”
Price
Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.
But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.
In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.
Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.
The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.
“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.
“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.
“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”
He’s angling for something. His face says it all.
He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.
His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.
“Probably looking for someone with experience.”
He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a heavy stare.
“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.
“I’ve got plenty to spare.”
Horangi
You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.
“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”
He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.
Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.
Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.
He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.
You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.
How much he’s trying to restrain himself.
“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.
“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.
“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”
Alejandro
“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.
“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”
Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.
God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.
“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”
Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.
He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.
His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.
“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”
Rodolfo
“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.
“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”
In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.
Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.
But he sees his chance. And he takes it.
“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”
His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a man in such a brutal line of work.
Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.
Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.
That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…
Graves
“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”
Graves sure has a way with words.
For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.
He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.
“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.
“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”
He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.
He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.
“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.
“And last.”
Gaz
Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.
See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.
He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.
He remembers what Soap taught him, though.
Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.
Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.
“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”
He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !
At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.
“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”
Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
Masterpost
Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
Yandere Masterlist
Juicy Original Content <3
#mw2 smut#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#konig x reader#konig smut#ghost x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price smut#soap x reader#ghost smut#alejandro vargas x reader#valeria garza x reader#kyle gaz garrick#rodolfo parra#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod
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this idea has been in my brain for over 2 months and I finally had time to make it. is this too earnestly cringe to upload? i am beyond the capacity to care. enjoy
now on youtube!
[link to drive folder w/ downloads including instrumental]
Everything was chill back in Hermitcraft 6 (lying)
Then Grian got up to his usual tricks
The name of the game is kill or be killed
No swords no bows no PVP skills
First Rendog found his inner fish
But he couldn’t stick the landing and his bones went squish
Stress flew through the dares with talent and grace
But she didn’t catch the totem and she fell on her face
Then Ren came back with a sinister vice
Tricked X with a race and blew him up twice
Looks like steel beams can’t be melted by slime
‘Cause Jevin didn’t see Mumbo’s tower in time
Stress set a trap at the shopping district
And dropped Scar right into a pufferfish pit
Cub’s stunt got stuck and X felt robbed
So he got a skeleton to finish the job
This is the Hermitcraft showdown of Hermitcraft destiny
Players, mobs, and explosions as far as the eye can see
And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be
This is the Hermitcraft showdown of Hermitcraft destiny
Tango and Impulse were shopping at the mall
But the store detonated and it killed them all
Grian had a no-good-very-bad-day
And when he made it back home he got blown away
Then False broke a block and before she could speak
A giant underground explosion sent her into next week
Cleo signed up for a warehouse tour
But she didn’t read the waiver and she fell through the floor
And TinFoilChef went laughing to the grave
Then without another word went back into his caves
Tango’s game was a race against the clock
And Keralis threw an egg at the most explosive block
Now revenge is a dish that’s best served cold
But Bdubs got it boiling as Cleo foretold
And when Joe got the rug pulled from under his feet
He tried to play it cool but he couldn’t take the heat
This is the Hermitcraft showdown of Hermitcraft destiny
It’s 90% explosions as far as the eye can see
And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be
This is the Hermitcraft showdown….
In another dimension
With danger abound
Mumbo threw his ender-pearl
But missed solid ground
And Doc had played smart
But Grian played mean
He was dead on arrival,
The trap unforeseen
Then one player remained,
One Dragon Head left-
For the ride of his life,
Iskall auctioned his death
He beat Joe Hills And ZombieCle-o
And every other member of the Dragon Bros:
FalseSymmetry and BDoubleO
And Grian and Mumbo Jumbolio
Also Rendog, Jevin, TangoTek and Cubfan,
Stress, Scar, and X just couldn’t beat the Iskallman
TinFoilChef or ImpulseSV
Doc can rock with blocks but can’t flee
So Grian and Impulse forged a team
And together they built a death machine
With a narrative arc from beginning to end
And a wild surprise around every bend
When the show and the ride were finally done
Our champion knew that his course had run
All that remains from the end of this fight
Is a piece of bloodstained diorite
This is the hermitcraft showdown of hermitcraft destiny
Just way too many explosions - where do they get all that TNT???
And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be
This is the Hermitcraft showdown
(this is the Hermitcraft showdown)
This is the Hermitcraft showdown
(this is the Hermitcraft showdown)
This is the Hermitcraft showdown
(this is the Hermitcraft showdown)
Of Hermitcraft destiny
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harvey just said to me "I'd like to get to know you better, Sanctity. Let's put aside our doctor-patient relationship." HIS ASS IS NOT FOLLOWING HIPAA GUIDELINES!!
#not actually mad its funny. and i blushed#also sanctity is my farmers name Obviously... i love virtue names#in my brain she is taking on a life of her own. and also yas she has made a deal with a devil in my brain. they didnt mention it in sdv bc#it wasnt relevant to harrys story. <- ew sry for a hp reference there but please know i do it solely to make fun of joannes dumb ass#excuse. for making dumb lee door gay. Ok?#but anyways yas. she made a deal with a demon to be good at farming and fishing and having a good time#and well level 10 farming skill soo smirks.. like level 7 fishing BUT ITS ONLY BC I KEPT BEING LUCKY#AND GETTING THE FISH I NEEDED LIKEE FIRST TRY.#i love fishing its fun 2 me.. enrichment activity#but yas actually her fishing skill is lower than the rest of her skills (the others r all 10 lol hashtag girl) bc im super good at it. ok?#i still havent decided who im gonna date.. might just say fuck it and get da free love mod To be quite hornets with u guys..#OMG. do u all wanna see sanctity btw.. shes soo cutesies to me#tha thang is originally i rly wanted to give her platinum blonde hair bc well shes got this blck headband and i thought thatd be cute#but da weirdo hair shading. i couldnt get it platinum blonde no matter what#so then now she has reddish brown hair :] but also i got a mod to brighten the hair colors#so she couldve had platinum blonde hair but oh well 2 late idt u cn die it after uve started.. unless maybe if your have fashion sense but#fashion sense scares me. ok?#ok thats all yayyy lalala#OMG. also ive been imagining sanctity and avarice hanging out <- yes i give all my girlies virtue names Cant get into it ok.THEYRE CUTE!!#i think it could be cutesies IF i stick with avarices like. psuedo story#which is just Girlie who summoned a demon by accident and didnt actually realize and hes just like. following her around now like hie#and also important note on avarice is that yes shes goffik emo even. but shes also from a very rural town and her dad loves her sm#and also she wants to be a paranormal vlogger so badly.. shes so fgunny#but anyways i think itd be funny if she meets sanctity and sanctitys like. obviously got awwsome demon abilities. and avarice is oblivious#and lu (da demon avarice accidentally summoned) who is in human form is just like. standing there#and sanctity knows that lus a demon so she keeps making like rly vague references to how they both have a demon#and avarice is like what. anyways.#also in sdv sanctity is very niceys bc i hate being mean in video games. but in this potential oc thang i think shed be sort of bitchy#ALSO ALSO. both of them use any pronouns but mainly she/her.. i might change that later#i love to make an oc a he/her. its my creation and i get to choose da pronouns
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trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader
After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.
Word count: 5020
Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)
A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou
gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)
Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own.
Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers.
Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.
Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground.
In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.
When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.
It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence.
Y/N — that was your name.
When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.
And yet, you were nowhere to be found.
It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective.
It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic.
Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.
Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about.
Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base.
They had won that day.
You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.
Y/N.
Who were you?
On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too.
Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?
Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.
“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”
The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.
So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.
With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.
“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”
That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.
“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”
Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?
Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.
“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”
The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.
Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.
What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?
Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.
Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.
But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you.
Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.
Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.
And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.
However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.
Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.
Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.
You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.
There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.
Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you.
Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?
Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.
Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.
Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.
While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later.
It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly thought-out her plan was.
What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?
It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party.
The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together.
She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd.
Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you.
She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you.
The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing.
It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?
“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.
You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”
Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”
“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.
While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern.
Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”
When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends.
“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”
You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out.
Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”
“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer.
“How have you been getting along with the team?”
“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”
Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.
“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”
That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to.
There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material.
In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team.
They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them.
Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless.
But with you, it was different.
You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now.
Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain.
“Thank you… I really appreciate–”
She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet.
For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?
You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.
This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.
Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.
Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon.
Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes.
“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”
Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony.
She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you.
Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.
A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now.
She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with.
What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?
In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside.
“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you.
“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”
Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”
“No — I want to be here.”
Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you.
Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.
“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”
Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”
You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”
Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.
Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”
She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.
You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.”
You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.
“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”
Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone.
“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”
In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.
It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.
She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.
It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.
“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face.
Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.
Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.
Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong.
She hoped she would never be right.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x y/n#marvel#marvel fanfiction#elizabeth olsen
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| luke castellan x fem! daughter of poseidon! reader
౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: none i think
౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: luke and [reader] go on a secret date, only to be caught by annabeth, percy, and grover
౨ৎ PART 2 OUT NOW ౨ৎ
“I thought this place was secret..”
“where’re you going anyways at 10:00 am on a random tuesday??”
percy asked, giving a very confused look, mostly because, you’re never up at 10:00 am or ever putting this much effort into making sure your shirt looks good enough.
“percy, i’m not going anywhere. i just decided to.. put a little more effort in today i guess.”
you said with glowing cheeks, thinking of luke. percy doesn’t seem to convinced and was about to say something else, but you quickly beat him to it, to avoid other integrations.
“are you sure my shirt looks good?” “should i opt for the baggier jeans or keep these flared ones on?”
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it was a sunny day for camp half blood. perfect for a picnic or maybe even a secret date..
as you exited your cabin, ready to spend some much needed time with your favorite boy ever, you were stopped by annabeth. don’t get me wrong, you love annabeth. but right now, you wanted some alone time with luke.
“hey y/n! i wanted to ask if you could help me work on some new sparring skills? i was going to ask luke but i can’t seem to find him anywhere.” annabeth asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.
you hesitated in saying it, but you couldn’t ever turn down helping someone. “sure annie. why not” you said with a bit of a forced smile.
as she showed you the moves she’s been working on, you correct her on her form and where she would be exposed to the enemy. this goes on for about 20 minutes until grover walks by and starts talking to annabeth about something.
you use this opportunity to quietly slip away to finally see luke. all you wanted to do was kiss him and hug him and do everything affectionate with him because you felt like you haven’t seen him in forever (you haven’t seen him for like a day).
as you brush through the sharp pine needles and itchy bushes, you finally catch a glimpse of the boy you fell in love with when you were 14.
you see him laying down on a blanket, with his elbows propping him up. you sneak up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.
“guess who!” you say lightly laughing as he guesses stupid answers like “Chiron” or “Percy”.
as you remove your hands from his eyes he gets up and immediately kiss you all over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your lips.
“hey, i’ve missed you so much.” luke says with love laced in his eyes.
“not as much as i’ve missed you.” “i have to tell you all about the morning i’ve had just to get here!” you exclaimed with a smile as you both sit down, hand in hand.
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some time has passed. about an hour or so. your head is on luke’s shoulder as he’s telling you all about how his week has been and how much he’s missed you (even though you two saw each other literally the day before).
in the middle of talking, you decided to just kiss him because well, you love him and this is one of the only times you got to spend time with him alone. as you’re both ahem.. making out, you hear footsteps, but you don’t think much of it.
until you hear a percy yelling “WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT WITH MY HALF-SISTER?!?!!” as grover catches up with percy, panting. and annabeth removes her hat, “percy! you ruined our cover you seaweed brain.”
“well sorry that i’m freaked out that luke is making out with my sister!! we’re lucky we didn’t get here later..”
as both you and luke just sit there dumbfounded, you finally decide to speak up. “ok why are you all here??” percy replies back very sassily “oh missy that’s the least of your problems.”
you roll your eyes as one of the more mature ones respond (annabeth) “well after grover finished talking to me, i saw that you weren’t with me anymore and also judging how luke wasn’t where he usually is either, i got a little fishy. so i grabbed percy and grover and went off.”
percy is just glaring at luke. like staring daggers into him. luke is just sheepishly smiling as he lays his head on your shoulder kissing it. as you both hear percy lecturing you on how it’s not ok to sneak around and such, annabeth and grover just sit there laughing as you and luke just keep playfully rolling your eyes and being dramatic with your responses like “oh i’m so sorry percy! i won’t ever do this again!”
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as you walk back to your cabin, percy in the middle of you and luke, you’re thinking all about how much you’ve fallen for luke and how excited you are to build your future with him (oop).
and as all three of you walk toward the poseidon cabin, you mouth to luke “stay outside for a minute”. you and percy walk inside and you make up some excuse to go back out there.
you go back outside where luke still is and you hug him around his waist. “that date was fun.. until.. yknow” you said laughing.
he rests his chin on the top of your head, and laughs. “yea. i always love spending time with my sunshine.” he says as he kisses the top of your head and pulls away.
you smile and look at his left eye, his lips, then to his right eye (triangle method lol). you lean in and kiss his soft lips as his arms find their way to your waist and yours to his neck. as you both pull away, foreheads touching, luke whispers with a smile,
“my cabin. 10:30 pm. make sure percy’s asleep.” you lightly laugh and pull away going into your cabin. as luke is about to walk to his counselor duties, he sees percy in the window giving him the death glare. he flinches and he awkwardly smiles and walks backwards until percy walks away from the window.
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౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ-(PT2??) first imagine done! i really hope u liked this one. pls request some!! i love writing for our fav evil boyfriend lol. and give me feedback! i’m new to this whole “imagines” thing haha <3 (btw idk how to put my requests thing on so just pm me with them🫶🏻🫶🏻)
-jules🎀
#lukecastellan#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#percyjackson#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#pjoverse#pjo series#annabeth#grover#luke castellan x reader#x reader#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#pjo tv show#charlie bushnell#siblings#protective brother#poseidon#luke castellan#child of hermes#hermes#child of poseidon
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Practice Your Skills
“You ever look at someone and wonder how hard it would be to get past their defenses and stab them?”
Damian snapped his head to the side, looking at the young boy now standing beside him.
The boy put his hands up in front of him with a wince, “Not that I ever do that. Totally not, whaaaat???”
Damian huffed and turned back around to watch the gala participants.
“It’s just you kinda looked like you were contemplating the logistics of stabbing Mrs.Halterguild for squeezing your cheeks.”
Damian scowled. Then, after a moment’s beat, “It would not be very difficult. She is nearly blind in her left eye, I would be able to approach without repost.”
The kid hummed, turning back as well before motioning to another group to the far right, “What about Mr. Beckensmith, he’s a retired vet right?”
Damian rolled his eyes and scowled harder, “The man has only seen the battlefield of an office as he bribed his way from being fully enlisted and instead managed to pay for increasingly higher ranks and medals. He is a disgrace.”
The kid cocked his head to the side, looking suspicious for a second and then nodding with concession, “Fair enough, I bet I could get close enough too.”
Damian scoffed.
“What, don’t believe me?”
Damian leveled a doubtful glare at the civilian, making it clear by looking him up and down, “Hardly.”
The other smirked dangerously, “If I can get close enough to poke him and get away without being noticed, will you believe me?”
Damian narrowed his eyes but nodded succinctly and watched as the boy immediately took off, making a few loops around other people before finally backing up to Mr. Beckensmith and poking him on the opposite side as a group moved past.
Damian pursed his lips. Interesting. Certainly better than he would expect from an amateur. And an amateur civilian at that.
When the boy returns to his side Damian brushes off the asks of meaningless praise.
“Come on, I did it, now you have to go poke Mrs. Halterguild without getting caught.”
Damian sneers, “And why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t believe you either, the woman’s old but I bet she sees you and squeezes your cheeks again. Old ladies just have a sixth sense for that stuff you know.”
Damian nearly growls but sets off on his task. He makes sure to stay on her left side, but the woman turns at the last second, forcing Damian to use a passing waiter as cover to remain hidden and finally get close enough to poke her gaudy dress.
Then he sidles back up to the boy on the edges and provides his best ‘I am more capable than you’ scowl. The boy simply laughs and says, “Who’s next?”
They spend the night like that, choosing each other’s targets to attack non-lethally as though they were attempting to stab them, and Damian finds the gala going by in a significantly less tedious manner.
Right up until the boy laughs at him when he chooses a target. Only one bark of laughter escapes, but it is enough for Damian to consider stabbing him as well. If only with a butter knife.
Instead, Damian grinds his teeth and asks, “What is so different about Masters, do you really believe you would be unable to succeed?”
The other gives a breathless chuckle, “I’m pretty sure even you wouldn’t be able to successfully stab Vlad Masters,” The boy’s shoulders sag even as his jaw tightens with irritation, “He sees everything.”
Damian narrows his eyes. Something naws at the back of his brain but currently the critique of his capabilities takes precedence.
“I would be capable of stabbing Masters even without my favored sword,” Damian scowls and stands taller with annoyance.
“Sure you can, man,” At this, the boy quirks a sharp smile, “If you can actually get him, I’ll personally get you a magic sword,” he says with an air of amused indulgence. Like he thinks Damian is some insipid child saying he will find a fairy.
Damian grits his teeth and shakes the other’s hand, then immediately sets off after his target. How dare this civilian question him! He is the Son of the Bat, this is not even a challenge!
Damian growls as his approach is thwarted for the third time by the man turning in his direction and almost spotting him. How dare he! He will not fail!
Just as he reaches to jab the man in the side, already poised to make his escape, Masters whips around and clamps his fingers around Damian’s wrist with a vice grip.
“Really Daniel I thought we were over-“ Masters pauses, looking at Damian critically as he glares at the man’s offending hand, “You are not young Daniel.”
“Remove your hand from my person at once,” Damian growls.
Instead of listening to Damian’s very sensible directions, Masters tightens his grip and twists his arm, most likely in an attempt to hurt him.
“Now why is a child attempting to-“
Damian doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the man’s words, sliding a dagger into his other hand and swinging towards him, until that hand is caught mid-movement as well.
“Heh-Hey there!”
Damian snaps his head to the side just in time to see Grayson take his dagger and slide it into his pocket. He ignores the bark of laughter he hears from across the room.
Masters’ hand disappears from his arm suspiciously fast, “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure!”
Damian looks over his other shoulder to see his father standing behind him, a thin smile on his face, “Vladimir!”
His father’s figure quickly obscures his vision, putting an arm over Masters’ shoulders in a way that clearly makes him irritated but forces him to follow as he is steered away.
“Dami, I thought we talked about the stabbing at formal events,” Grayson says through a strained smile as he looks over the crowd to make sure no else saw.
“Tt, it was merely a demonstration of my skills, he was in no real danger until he refused to release me. I simply sought to correct that mistake.”
Grayson pinchesthe bridge of his nose, “Demonstration for who, Dames? We all already know your skills.”
“Tt,” Damian scowls and turns away.
Instead of pushing it, Grayson simply sighs heavily, “Just stay out of trouble for the rest of the gala okay? We’re almost done.”
Damian scoffed and waited for Grayson to leave. Once he does, Damian finally looks over to where he had been lingering with the boy.
Gone.
Clearly he’d taken the cowards way out when he’d seen that Damian had been accosted by Masters.
Pitiful.
Damian spends the rest of the night scowling from the wall and looking serendipitously for a head of black hair and blue eyes unrelated to him.
Of course it’s not until they are actively leaving that Damian sees him and immediately splits off of from his family.
He approaches with irritation, preparing to grab the other by the shoulder when suddenly he turns around and blue eyes meet Damian’s green.
“You,” Damian sneers.
“Me,” The other shrugs. He has an amused smile on his face, though it’s strained at the edges.
They stare in silence for a minute, before the other’s smile grows and sharpens once more, “I didn’t expect you to actually try to stab him, y’know,” A slight laugh escapes him, “Not that it was unwelcome by any means, but still, unexpected.”
Damian scowls again, glaring at this foolish civilian.
“Oh, I never introduced myself did I?!”
The boy exclaims and holds out a hand, smile dangerous, “Daniel Fenton. Or if we’re being technical,” a pause as Damian finally returns the gesture and finds his hand trapped, “Daniel Masters, a pleasure to meet you Damian.”
“Hurry up little badger,” A voice says beside them, and Damian notices that it is indeed Vladimir Masters.
The man approaches, placing a heavy hand on Fenton’s shoulder, making the boy go taut, and then they both step into a dark car, leaving Damian on the front steps.
Damian’s anger flares and he shoots a glare directly to the boy getting into the car. It dies the moment they meet eyes and Damian sees the fear hiding in the other’s eyes.
Fear that Damian is all too familiar with.
Fear that reminded Damian of himself. Reminded him of his own eyes when he’d been under his grandfather.
But why did Fenton look like that?
#batman#danny phantom#batfam#dc#batman and robin#danny fenton#young justice#danny phantom crossover#bruce wayne#tim drake#dick grayson#Damian wayne#Damian Al ghul#dp x dc#dpxdc#Jason Todd#red hood#Nightwing#Robin
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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic
Simon Riley/female reader
🎄Simon has himself a merry little Christmas - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge
Simon opens his eyes to an empty bed on Christmas morning.
His breath catches in his chest when his hand slides across the sheets, instinctively seeking the warmth of your body, only to discover your side of the bed empty.
His rational, tactical, professional mind tells him you've probably just gotten up with the baby. That for some reason, he slept too deeply and didn't wake up when she did this morning, like he usually does. You're in the guest room, Emmaline's room, now, or in the kitchen. Maybe you're already drinking your first cup of coffee. You're fine. The baby is fine. Nothing is wrong.
But his heart... his heart screams. Terror ices his veins, adrenaline and fear taking control of his gross motor skills, legs twisting beneath him as he stumbles out of bed and races for the door. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine-
“Sweetheart?” His voice betrays him. He sounds stressed, anxiety piquing, frantically turning the corner into the kitchen. Not again, he can’t do this again, this can’t happen again…
It’s empty. The front door is still locked, and so is the patio’s, twinkling Christmas tree glowing in the late dawn light. His mind splits. Check Emmaline’s room, they’re probably in there, get control of yourself… and… the glock 19 is closest, should still be under the top shelf, call Price, mobilize the team-
“Simon?” He whirls at the sound of your voice, air rushing out of his lungs, drawing into a relieved laugh. Emmaline is on your hip in a green, white, and red striped elf costume, complete with a pointed hat, jingle bell dangling from the top. “Morning.” You smile, and so does the baby. “Santa’s elf wanted to surprise you.” You’re still a little sleepy, eyes tired, and he does a double take when he realizes you’re in your underwear and one of his t shirts.
“I’m… surprised.” Bloody hell. His brain isn’t working, his mouth rendering him stupid, still caught in fight or flight, and your lips subtly twist before your eyes soften, realization soft across your features.
“Are you okay?” You question, and he nods, not trusting himself to not say something else moronic, flailing in the silence, failing. It’s been weeks since he’s felt like this, inept, clumsy, senseless, too easily settled into a life with you after that pipe burst in your flat and practically delivered him a holiday miracle, a treasure deposited right into his lap. “Here,” you push Emma into his arms, soft fingers over top his as you hand her off, looking up at him with that level trust, adoration that you’re always providing him, in your eyes. Just holding Emmaline settles the anxiety in his heart, soothes the raw buzzing that’s tearing through his head, and you smile, butting your head into his shoulder and placing a kiss there. “Will you take her while I get dressed?”
“Yeah.” He croaks, as you squeeze his forearm, turning away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, stopping you in your tracks. He wants to tell you he thinks he loves you; he thinks he’d die without you; he thinks you’re the greatest thing he’s ever had, ever held, thinks you saved him, but nothing comes out. You hold his gaze for a second, and then two, before whispering.
“I know… me too.” Of course you do. You pause, cocking your head. “Could you make some coffee? Gonna be a long day.” You raise an eyebrow towards the Christmas tree, where all of Emma’s gifts sit perfectly arranged, and he nods. He can do that.
“Just three scoops of this,” he tells Emma, portioning out the coffee into the filter as she babbles at him from her perch in his other arm. “Mama likes it pretty strong, doesn’t she? And then some water, like this.” He pours the pitcher into the machine’s reservoir, flicking on the power and listening to the gurgle as he makes his way to the couch. He bounces Emma on his knee, little hands waving in the air, trying to grab the end of her hat and gnaw on it. The tree sparkles behind her, lights and ornaments all aglow, and she giggles when she tips herself forward, planting onto his chest with both hands. “Easy, baby girl.” Rolling onto her back in the crook of his arm, she squirms, smiling up at him, finger extended towards his chin. “What is it, eh?” He leans, and she pokes his cheek, cooing with a satisfied grunt. She fits so naturally in his side, just like you do, and he settles into the cushions, relaxing, allowing her to explore, tactile touch padding across his face, little fingernails scratching at his stubble.
“You two look cozy.” You murmur with a yawn, cup of coffee steaming in your palms. He smiles, and Emma lifts her head to look for you, tracking the sound of your voice. You perch at his other side, knees tucking up next to his hip, nestling your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing Emmaline’s cheek. “Whatcha doing sweet pea?” He brushes a kiss across the top of your head, and you sigh, arm wrapping around his stomach. "This is nice."
"It is." He agrees. It's more than nice, it's everything. Everything he didn't know was possible, everything he didn't know he wanted. It's nice, spending Christmas with his girls, cuddled up together on his couch in front of a Christmas tree that's loaded with presents for the baby. A Christmas, the holiday he used to shun… now brought back to life by you. Nice is a good word to describe it, but others flit through his mind as well: perfect, redeeming, salvation.
Purpose.
He takes a ragged breath, and you lean back to look at him, waiting.
"It's more than nice, sweetheart, it's... I... never thought, never dreamed this could happen in my life. You and Emmaline, you're... everything to me." He pauses, cradling your face, watching how your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I want," he swallows the lump in his throat. "I want you to stay. I want you to be here. Always." He needs you to stay, needs you like he needs air to breathe, needs you like he's never needed, never wanted, anything before in his life. He'd give you the world, if he could, wrap it up nicely and put it beneath the tree, but he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain.
He's grateful he doesn't have to.
"I'll be here, Simon. I'll be right here. With you." You take his hand, clutching onto him tightly. It's selfish, what he wants. Stupid. But he's not a good man... he's yours, and he'll be as wicked, as awful as he must to keep you and Emmaline safe. You're the only good thing about him now, and he'd dig himself free from a shallow grave all over again, just to crawl home to you. You've changed him, deeply. Fundamentally. Taught him the truth of love, of healing, your grief not so much different from his own, and he knows he'd die for you, he'd die for you ten thousand times.
Emmaline babbles at the sound of your voice, and you smile at her, not bothering to wipe away the tear that tracks down your cheek. "We're here. We'll stay. As long as you want us."
And christ, if that isn't the best Christmas gift he's ever be given.
#peaches writes#light on#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#codholiday2023
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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴
☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
☒ Summary: "Alastor said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel looked puzzled. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?"
☒ Warnings: fem!reader she/her pronouns used, hurt with no comfort sorry, tons of confusion for alastor and the reader, one kiss, very suggestive language (its from angel- are we surprised?), slight self harming (alastor), blood, tears, arguing, desprate!alastor, toxic themes, split pov (second devider is when alastor's pov starts!)
☒ Word Count: 2,653
"You- WHAT?"
Angel shot up from his spot on your bed. His eyes widened, eyebrows knitting in perplexity.
"I know- I know! It's bad... but I wasn't thinking clearly!" You slumped under Angel's judgemental gaze, pulling your knees up to your chest from where you sat on your bed.
"Toots, there is no way his pussy eating skills are good enough to fuck you that dumb!" You averted your gaze. Heat rose to your cheeks from Angel's crass words.
"Oh, but they are..." You mumbled before you felt two of Angel's hands grip your shoulders, shaking you out of frustration.
"Did you really have to pick an absolute psychopath to be the one to pop your cherry? Toots, you're gorgeous. You could have anyone you want!" You were flustered beyond comprehension as Angel stopped shaking you. Opting to glare at your heated face instead.
"We didn't go all the way! Plus he's the one who's been pursuing me all this time- I didn't get it at first, and I still don't. But-" Your expression morphed into one of contemplation. Angel's jaw went slack as he impatiently awaited your next words. "But what?! Spit it out!"
"He said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel nudged you to the side before slotting himself atop your bed once more. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?"
You froze.
Angel's inquiry filled your mind with more questions than answers.
"I... not much," You paused, turning to face Angel before you continued. "The earliest memory I have is waking up in a hospital bed after surviving a blow to the head from some hunting accident."
You closed your eyes, wracking your brain for every last detail you could remember; no matter how small. "I ended up falling into a coma only days after that mishap. The next thing I know, I'm in fucking hell." You chucked bitterly. Angel let out a laugh of his own.
"No offense, babe, but that has to be one of the saddest fuckin' things I've ever heard," Angel outstretched his legs, overlapping them atop yours. "That accident, what else can you remember about it? Maybe that's the ticket!"
Your eyes shot open from Angel's question. "Wait... before I fell into a coma, there was this nurse- she told me that I was led into the woods by a dangerous fellow," You paused, eyes scanning Angel's wildly as he perched himself forward. Literally hanging on the edge of his seat from your musings.
"She told me the gunshot wound saved my life, fucking ironic now because It ended up killing me anyway. She also said that... the man who took me into the woods was a serial killer who had been on the run for decades. He ended up getting shot in the head that night, also. Except he died instantly..."
Angel was hanging on to every word you uttered. He could see the pieces falling into place from your look of awe. "What was the man's name, toots? What was it?!" Angel shouted a little louder than he intended. You jolted back from his outburst, taking in a shaky breath. You replayed that memory with the nurse over and over again.
She had to have said it at some point.
Come on! Think, think- think!
“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That 𝘈⃒̅𝘭⃒̅𝘢⃒̅𝘴⃒̅𝘵⃒̅𝘰⃒̅𝘳⃒̅ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer.”
"His target was a nearby deer."
A deer...
Again.
Retrace.
"That ɹ̸o̸ʇ̸s̸ɐ̸ʅ̸Ɐ̸ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer."
Fuck- it was just out of reach.
One more time, one more fucking time.
Think carefully.
"The hunter wasn’t even aiming for That A͊l͖a̪sto̶̸̅r̷̦͍ fellow. His target was a nearby deer."
You gasped sharply, startling Angel. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
"Alastor... his name was Alastor."
Your voice was distant as you spaced out. Angel's face blurred out of focus through your line of sight.
"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me. That freak was going to kill you when you were still alive-? And now... you belong to him? Shit- toots! This is rough... and not the good kind of rough."
Alastor sat at the piano. Staring at the keys with that ever-present smile— but not daring to strike a tune.
You’ve been avoiding him again.
What was it going to take for you to realize that he was your fiancé on earth?
Sure, his features were more creature than man, but at the end of the day; Alastor was still the same man you fell in love with.
Maybe he should have held off from his… desires.
Could you blame him, though? He’s been waiting nearly a century to be reunited with his beloved.
You’re the person he thought about for all these lonely years in hell. The only solace for Alastor was the notion that you survived, lived a long happy life, and inevitably made it to the pearly gates.
So imagine his despair when you showed up at the Hazbin Hotel, looking to be redeemed.
Alastor recognized you immediately. He could spot that grin of yours in a crowd of billions.
Smile at the world, and she smiles back at you.
But— you didn’t even spare him the time of day. Alastor gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you just needed some time to reignite your memory.
And so, he gave you time. You’ll come around, Alastor thought.
But he couldn’t have been more wrong, as much as he hated to admit it.
He grew impatient— losing all of his resolve when you admitted to his voice reminding you of home.
Alastor presumed maybe a passionate encounter would jumpstart your adoration for him. You had never breached that level of intimacy when you both were alive. You were adamant about waiting until marriage, but those dreams never came true.
Yet even still, it was not enough.
Was he really that forgettable to you?
Suddenly, a knock on his door pulled him from his stupor. Alastor quickly cleared his throat, straightening his bowtie and taking steps toward his door.
The second he swung the door open, he was met by the person who invaded his every thought; you.
“What a pleasant surprise! Come in, my dearest.” Alastor piped up, stepping aside to let you into his safe haven.
Your face was devoid of any vibrancy, and your eyes frantically avoided his. Alastor watched you closely as you hesitantly stepped past the threshold of his space.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor hummed as he shut the door before turning on his heel to face you.
You rubbed at the sleeve of your dress nervously. Alastor’s mind instantly flashed the memory of your first meeting.
The sight of you soothing yourself with a gentle caress to your bicep. Clammy hands seeping perspiration through that gorgeous vermilion dress of yours.
“I-I remember you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Legs trembling from where you stood before him.
Your words caused Alastor’s heart to race wildly.
At long last— you remember him!
“I knew you would, my smart girl! Ah- you have no clue how elated I am to finally hear those words leave your lips!” He invaded your personal space without missing a beat.
Alastor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as you dodged his hand— that had full intention of clasping around your cheek.
“Don’t… don’t touch me.” Your voice was shrill as you took a step back from him.
Alastor took one step forward.
“My darling, why are you being so cold? You know how much I loathe teasing.” Alastor forced out a chuckle as you took two steps back.
Alastor took three steps forward this time.
“You’re sick! You’re the one who’s been teasing me all this time— how dare you?!” You spat, raising your hands to push him away, but to no avail.
Alastor grasped your wrists with his large palms. He gazed down at you with a frenzied look, grip tightening scarcely around your wrists. “Darling… this isn’t funny anymore.” His voice was low, and the corners of his lips twitched in irritation.
“It never was funny to begin with! I mean, how could you try to kill me on earth and then think it’s okay to fool around with me in hell?!” You glared up at him, tears of frustration now rolling down your cheeks.
Alastor’s grip loosened from your words. He was utterly astonished. "You think I... tried to kill you?" His voice was quiet, crimson orbs frantically searching yours.
You grimaced at him, rolling your eyes before you shouted, "You led me out into the woods, and the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head and no memories before waking up in a stiff hospital bed! Everything I know about you and the accident was spoon-fed to me by some crappy nurse!"
Alastor's smile dropped. He wasn't even aware of the frown that crossed his features. The only giveaway was the absence of that standard achy feeling in his cheeks from holding an everlasting grin. "Darling, I-I'm not following... you mean to tell me you... don't remember your life before that mishap?"
You looked puzzled by Alastor's uncharacteristic display of distress. His hands slipped from your wrists as he wobbled backward. "Yeah, and It's your fault! If you didn't haul me out into those woods to kill me, I would still remember who I was! And my whole life before all this bullshit!"
You took a step forward.
"I would remember my family, my career, if I even fucking had one! I would remember my joyful memories, my painful ones, and— and- maybe I would remember somebody who actually loved me!" You furiously glared up at him. Pointing your index finger into his chest in an accusatory fashion.
Alastor snapped at your last words.
Somebody who actually loved you?
It was him.
It was always him.
Was his love for you really that immemorable?
"You truly aren't joking... you... don't remember me." Alastor felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. You were the last thing keeping it intact. All that he felt in his chest now was your blunt fingernail piercing his skin from where you jabbed him.
"I just told you I do! What the fuck are you talking about?!" Alastor could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were probably just as confused as he was but for all the wrong reasons.
Alastor's arms fell limp against his sides. Yet his fists were balled up so tightly that he could hear the pitter-patter of his blood spilling onto the carpet from how deeply his nails sunk into the flesh of his palm.
You weren't ever going to believe the truth, but Alastor still needed to try.
"My dearest... that is not how we met. And my intentions were not and never will be to end your life." Alastor paused, taking in a shaky breath before continuing.
"You're frustrated about not remembering somebody that loved you, yes? As am I..." You tilted your head in confusion. Finally pulling your finger away from his wounded chest. "What the fuck are you trying to say, Alastor?" Your voice was laced with annoyance, and your scowl was unwavering.
"Darling, that somebody that loved you was me-and still is. It will always be me," Alastor paused, hands now finding purchase on your shoulders. "That accident should have never happened! We were scheduled to be wed at the courthouse later that evening... but... we never... made it..."
Why were his cheeks burning unbearably so?
And why was your countenance blurring before his very eyes?
Alastor's grip on your shoulders was unwavering, but his hands now trembled. Your expression was one of perplexity as you shook your head incredulously. "I loved you in life and now in death. I've loved you all this time, my sweet girl. Nothing will ever change that! Please, I beg of you- you must believe me!"
The definitive radio static crackle to his voice was nowhere to be found. Instead, his voice was laced with desperation. You looked disoriented through his blurry gaze as you took a weary step back.
Alastor felt wetness trickle down his burning cheeks.
Oh, he was... crying?
The last time he wept was when he first arrived in this grim place otherwise known as Hell. The realization that he left you on earth all alone tore him up. Alastor was inconsolable for years.
You truly knew how to put him together just to rip him apart all over again, huh?
There is no undoing grander than love itself.
"I-I don't believe you..." Your voice was just above a whisper as you slipped out of his grasp and approached the doorway. You turned your back on him, literally and metaphorically.
Alastor didn't miss a beat. He rushed to you, large palm slamming flat against the wooden door. "We worked at the same radio station! Your bitch of a friend Elaine and her parents took you in after your pill-addict parents abandoned you on your eleventh birthday!"
You let out a sharp gasp as he hovered over you. Alastor couldn't read your expression, with your face practically pressing into the wooden door. All he could see was the top of your head as he pushed his chest into your rigid back. His arm was outstretched, keeping the door shut and caging you in entirely.
"It was love at first sight for me! We went dancing for our first date. Did you truly fail to notice how effortlessly we moved along the dancefloor at Charlie's last gathering? It's because deep down, your body remembers every dance we ever shared,"
Alastor flipped you over faster than you could process. Your back was now flush against the sturdy door, his arm still caging you in. He peered down at you as his thumb and index finger from his non-dominant hand grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Every lingering touch..."
He felt you tremble beneath his intense stare from how his chest now squashed against yours. Alastor's face dipped lower, invading your personal space. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, breath fanning over your tear-stained cheeks.
"And every kiss..."
Alastor observed you desperately as he pressed his lips against yours. He poured all his love into the shared embrace, hoping it would jumpstart your memory. But instead, you just shoved him away harshly, breaking away from his embrace. Alastor felt his world crumble around him as you wiped his kiss away with the back of your hand.
"You're fucking crazier than I thought!" With Alastor still reeling from the rejection, you took your leave. The sound of the door slamming thundered through his head.
Alastor sunk to his knees. His hands came up to tug at his messy tufts of hair. Allowing the tears to flow freely now that he was completely alone.
Alastor did not think you were capable of hurting him until now.
Alastor yanked at his locks furiously as his cheeks burned brightly in frustration. His knees quivered as his forehead kissed the carpet that was stained with his blood from earlier—when he unintentionally ripped up his palms. Alastor curled in on himself as he wept.
This pain was worse than any other.
But more than anything, his love for you only burned brighter.
As did his determination to have you remember him and the pleasant life you both shared before all was lost.
tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz @fokrilove @yourdoorisunlocked @willowshadenox @izakyun @fangirlbitch02 @kyana-chan @aquariaries @sincerely-lorely @maxlynn17 @ivebeenthearchersstuff
#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#alastor smut#alastor x you#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x y/n#alastor angst#alastor fluff#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel fluff
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