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topherwrites · 9 months

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- start of a silver fox

summary - back from deployment, you notice a change in your boyfriend's appearance. pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader word count - 1.4k rating - no smut, but 18+ anyways, mdni! content warnings & tags - age gap (reader is in her early twenties, jake is in his early thirties) / fwb to lovers / no use of (y/n) / vague allusions to sex / mentions of nudes / mentions of masturbation / no actual smut / mentions of death (sorta) / lmk if i missed anything! a/n: saw these recent photos of glen ➙ became possessed ➙ wrote this. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

Jake is back after three long months on deployment, a fourth of your relationship — not counting the first couple months when you were ‘just hooking up’. This is your first welcome back. Having texted extensively with Nat’s girlfriend, Sasha, you were given a pretty good lay of the land by her, informed of what to expect.

Homecoming day has arrived, and excitement has consumed your entire body, making your limbs buzz.

Awaiting his arrival on the pier, your foot tapping out a nervous rhythm, you stand in the back, allowing spouses and children to be the first in line. You’re just the girlfriend, the one almost a decade younger than him, the one you know his friends assumed wouldn't be around long. You assumed you wouldn't be around long. Jake is a charmer, and when he set his sights on you, you assumed it would be a one-night stand, a fling at most.

But one night turned into two and then three, which turned into nearly three months of falling asleep and waking up next to him. Most days you’d get a text the second he was done with training, the buzz of your phone always kicking up your heartbeat.

At first, you’d just meet him at The Hard Deck for drinks, then dinner at sit-down restaurants — the preambles to him fucking the shit out of you growing longer and decidedly less casual. Post-coital, he’d sling an arm around your waist in an attempt to keep you from slipping out, waking up with that same soothing weight on you. Eventually, he casually mentioned that you could keep some of your stuff at his place — for convenience, he said. He tried slipping the suggestion under the radar, pre-coffee on a Saturday morning. Bleary-eyed and half-asleep, you barely processed his words, absent-mindedly humming in response.

Then you saw the half-cleared-out drawer — which you later learned was a measure in order not to spook you. Like a full drawer would make you wise to his intentions, like he was trying to acclimate you to the idea of commitment, to a relationship with him.

You remember the feeling of placing spare clothes in that drawer; a spare bra and sweatshirt. Jake watching you from the doorway, trying to not act too pleased in response.

You liked him, his company and his laugh and his baffling love of Taylor Swift that he blamed on his nieces. The man under the bravado wormed his way into your brain.

Though, you could appreciate how he looked puffed-chest and cocksure. Near equally competitive as you are. The first game night you spent with his friends meant you both were banned from ever being on the same team again. Pictionary, trivia, One-Night Ultimate Werewolf — you mopped the floor with them. The rule wasn't entirely the case of sore losers, you can acknowledge the fact that you two were immediately, freakishly in sync. Ultimate Werewolf may have ended in tears of betrayal being shed.

And that's how things progressed for a while, falling deeper while avoiding acknowledging the fact that you were in a relationship. Afraid to say the words and make things complicated. Near everyone in both your and his life were trying to push you both to just trust it. Have a little faith in one another.

One minute you were his girlfriend in all but name, and then you were just his girlfriend. A confession on his couch in the midst of rewatching Veep, ‘Relax, cow eyes’ the soundtrack to everything falling into place.

────────────────────────

Once officers start filtering off the ship, your mind blanks in anxiety. Around you, tears are shed, and poster board is ditched in favor of tight hugs. Laughter and children squealing background noise. You scan the crowd, the sun beating down on you, searching for the handsome shape of Jake Seresin. People come and go, giving you a better view of the naval officers, till you finally spot yours moving towards you. He weaves through the throng with ease, standing before you in a matter of seconds.

A smile stretches your face, eyes squinting from both happiness and the sun. You scan him, categorizing any minute change. Gray. A small streak above his right ear. Your nerve endings light up like a Christmas tree, the sensation doubling at the slight hint of age. Reaching out, your fingers run across his scalp, nails tracing back, playing with the hair that has decided in his relatively brief absence to go gray.

He doesn't shy from your touch, his lashes fluttering at the sensation, an intimate moment playing out in public. Though no one is probably taking notice, wrapped up in their own reunion. He does seem to be a hint abashed at your attention.

He breaks the quiet, “Hey, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice, clear and unobstructed by distance, rushes through you. Fuck. You're trying to suppress the blatant arousal coursing through your system, keep it out of your voice. Words startled, voice pitched, “You've gone gray.”

Despite your age gap, it’s never been your thing, your Tinder age range has only ever been set 3 years older — but seeing Jake in the flesh, and with a few more grays, is making you muster every ounce of self-control so you don't fuck him in the parking lot, ride him in the backseat of his truck. He probably wouldn't enjoy getting dishonorably discharged.

He hefts his duffle over his shoulder, free hand taking your own to lead you to the car — his truck that he handed the keys over to, something in his gaze when he told you to not let the battery die. Maybe a way for him to feel connected to you, maybe a reassurance that you'd be around when he got back. Your board is still in the bed, having taken up surfing in the mornings since your time was no longer being occupied by Jake slowly fucking you into the mattress.

“I already had grays, I'm just… grayer now.” His pace is quick. It's clear that he's itching to get home. Your boots stamp on the pavement as you practically skip behind him, content with his hand in yours. He looks at you out of the side of his eye, eyebrow raised, “And I wonder why that is.”

“That suspiciously sounds like an accusation.”

“Those photos…” He stops at the teal-striped Ford, throwing his duffle next to your surfboard. Crowding you against the side of it., his voice dropping, “I was opening my mail in the mess, ‘bout gave me a heart attack.”

You’d sent them on a whim — a well-researched whim, you didn't need some random desk jockey finding out your taste in lingerie. But you had missed Jake and wanted him to miss you in return. And what better way to make the heart grow fonder than with scantily clad pictures of your body?

“Well? Did you like them?” You know he liked them, it was a whole production to take them, but even if it wasn't — he’s a man, and you were in lingerie. You looked hot, are hot, present tense. An indisputable fact. And he’s not reserved with telling you and showing you that, but you can't pass up a moment to hear it voiced to you, not after how long he’s been gone.

“I think I have carpal tunnel.”

You snort out a laugh as he exaggeratedly shakes out his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist for your amusement. Eyes skating along your features, he huffs, “Add that to the long list of ailments you've inflicted.”

Letting your fingers lightly trace down his biceps, you press your body even closer to his, perhaps a touch too scandalous for a parking lot in broad daylight. A coy reply rolls off your tongue, “I keep you young.”

“You're going to send me to an early grave.”

Rising to your toes, you brush your lips against his, holding back from full contact. You feel his breath stall in his chest, desperate for it. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing, his face awash in anticipation. He’s beautiful.

Your palm stroking the side of his head, you brush the hair away from his face, pinky skimming the top of his ear. You single out the silver strands between your fingers, silky soft as ever. He’s real and yours — home.

“Ditto. Might as well invest in matching plots, right?”

Broad shoulders shaking with laughter, he brushes his nose against yours. Palms cupping the side of your face, thumbs sweeping across your cheeks, he stops waiting. A long-awaited kiss pressed to your lips, neither one of you able to keep the smiles off your faces.

e/n: thank you for reading!

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #my writing

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ceilidho · 9 months

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prompt: you keep seeing apparitions of a dead special forces operative who's been haunting the barracks. (light angst; nsfw) (actual ghost simon riley)

War dogs chewed up and spat out by the machinery of war.

It is an incalculable blow to learn of his death. Worse still that you learn of it by happenstance, one officer talking to another, only listening in because it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him and their voices go hushed in that way that makes your ears prick up. You’re sitting at a nearby table in the canteen when someone says the single most devastating words that have ever been spoken near you.

“They weren’t able to recover the whole body, just some of it. Pretty gruesome. Don’t know if you ever met him, but he was an alright guy—pretty quiet. Scary, yeah, but—I don’t know. He was fair. Got the job done though. Soap’s taking it pretty hard.”

You barely breathe at the news. Something is squeezing your heart until it overfills on the other side.

You walk around base in a daze after that. It’s not anyone’s fault that you aren’t notified—no one was supposed to know. Your whole arrangement with Simon was predicated on the knowledge that it would never be revealed to your commanding officers or the rest of the infantry. Made sense at the time. Makes less sense now when your world is falling apart and you have no way of even requesting Ghost’s dog tags.

Pain holds you upright like a splint while it also tries to smother you. You crawl back to your barracks after training the recruits, voice a hoarse whisper in your throat. Showers are an optimal place to cry, when maybe you won’t be heard. Grief is not grief when there’s nowhere for it to go.

Maybe Soap was privy enough to Ghost’s life to know. He doesn’t spend time with you, but you see him once from across the tarmac on a flight out and his gaze lingers on you. There are deep troughs under his eyes, dark even with the distance between you. His posture is still, rigid; despite his uniform being pressed and his hair being cut and gelled into place, there is something singularly heavy weighing him down.

He nods from across the way to you. You grit your jaw and nod back.

It’s the only time you’ll ever acknowledge it. Soap never seeks you out after that—maybe it’s too painful. Maybe shared pain isn’t always enough.

The worst is only finding out weeks later that Ghost has been buried. That’s your closure. An offhand comment from an operations officer on a smoke break. Your numb hand flicking a lighter. Rain breaking in the early twilight hours and you stand in it so long that you shiver and shake on your way back to your room.

Lightning that crackles in the storm clouds, illuminating the place where you just stood outside while you stare from your window. Illuminating someone standing where you just were. You squint, but they round the bend to one of the other buildings before you can make them out.

Every soldier has a story. Conducting barracks checks on staff duty only to find a soldier with half their jaw missing asking for a cigarette. A marine approaching a soldier asking for his rifle, garbed in a ripped vest from early Iraq. Squad bays known for apparitions, known for hauntings. Figures seen from the trees, the half-shadowed remains of old tanks, burned and hollowed out, suddenly upright and mobile.

In certain barracks, soldiers won’t even leave their rooms at night to use the washroom. They’d rather piss in old bottles or hold off until morning light altogether. It’s common enough to be joked about, for soldiers to trade stories in the mess over supper, trying to spook each other with the things they’ve seen or claimed to see.

You can tell the ones who’ve actually seen things from those who haven’t though. The ones who have are often quieter, often only laugh a little. The truth is buried in their inability to fully commit to the bit. It’s the knowing that does that.

Knowing that there are things that death cannot hide.

The first time you see Simon again, it’s not a homecoming. You know there’s something very wrong.

It’s 3am and someone’s standing in front of your door. You feel it before you see them, feel something like every single hair on your body standing on end and the sudden lucid thought in the middle of a dream that you need to wake up. That you need to wake up right now.

Heart racing when your eyes snap open. Sweat already slicking the backs of your knees. You’re lying on your side, hands curled close to your face, and you feel its gaze on you like the heaviest dread you’ve ever felt in your life. You stare at the wall that your bed is pushed up against until you find the courage to roll over.

Just a shape in the dark. A dark shape. Distinct from the rest of the darkness in your room. Tall as it is wide. The slightest motion to it, like breathing or the gentle swaying of the human body when it’s allowed to be loose.

There’s a lamp on your end table. You flick it on without tearing your eyes away from the dark shape looming by the door, but when light unveils your room, it flickers away like a bad illusion. Just a jacket hung up on the back of the door. Your heart races still.

When the light goes off, the shadow doesn’t reappear.

It might not be him, but something’s haunting you. You spoon cereal into your mouth in the morning with a shaking hand. It’s the massive shape of a body behind the shower curtain in your private bathroom that has you certain—certain—that someone’s there until you whip it to the side and see only tile wall. You know what you saw though, and you know from the way the top of it peeked over the curtain that it was blond.

Weeks go by. You’re in a bivy sack and a voice you recognize wakes you up for watch. It’s the same voice that used to rumble low in your ear when you let him into your bed on leave (you always used to take them at the same time, no one the wiser). You’re back on base in your room and something leans its full weight onto your bed. You wake up to him sitting on the edge of your bed, blood dripping from an old wound. Him though, skull mask and all. Eyes shadowed always, black staring at you seeing and unseeing.

You don’t need to ask what he wants from you. He lumbers around the barracks like a wraith that only you can see. Never truer to his old moniker than he is in death. A civilian worker flirts with you one day and he winds up in the infirmary. Fell down the stairs, another sergeant tells you when you ask. You smile tight, brittle. If only.

He slips into your bed at night when the lights are shut and you’ve turned over onto your side. You can’t see him, but the bed compresses under his weight like it did when he was alive. He’s still for a minute, stare heavy on you while you lie there motionless, waiting him out. When he finally lays a hand on your hip, you flinch at how normal it feels. Like he didn’t go out and die one day. Like it’s really him at your back dragging a hand down the curve of your hip and over your thigh.

He divests you of your pyjamas the same way he used to in motel rooms, your apartment off-base, his cabin up north that you still have the key to but can’t bring yourself to visit. You let him. Shorts pulled down and kicked to the bottom of the bed, then your underwear. Shirt rucked up so he can fit a big, rough hand over your tit. His hands are solid where they touch you, nothing ghostly about them. He squeezes like the memory of your flesh is half-gone, like he needs to sink himself into you again.

“Missed…you…” His voice comes like a deep rumble, tectonic plates shifting over the asthenosphere.

The hand on your breast slides up, over the delicate skin of your throat, over where your pulse goes mad and you dry swallow because there’s nothing in your mouth. Over and up the curve of your cheek, thumb pressing against your lips, curling your top lip up until you’re almost kissing it. Then he lets go, hand coming back down to your hip.

“Simon, are you—” you start, cut off on a gasp when he lifts your leg over his hip and something presses against your opening. Notches there, sinks in hot inch after hot inch. Head spinning and breath wild when he spears you on his thick length, half-tumbling over you until you’re lying prone on your bed. Simon’s as heavy as you remember, the full weight of him keeping you trapped there. You can only take. You can only draw in a deep breath and let out the softest sounds while he presses in,

“Had to…come back,” the ghost of your old lover says, growling into your ear. “Couldn’t…leave you here…alone.”

You wonder what’s really behind the mask this time. His hands and dick feel flesh enough, but fear still quivers in your belly because you know that whatever it is pressing you down with a firm hand on your shoulder blade, it’s not fully him.

You’ve heard of ghosts haunting places but never people. There’s something achingly loyal about the way he fucks you though. It’s dark and hot under him, and he mouths where he can, mask pulled up finally. Not that you can see. Better that you can’t, maybe. Pulsing in and out of your cunt, silent but for his shallow intakes of breath. He feels enormous and terrifying at your back.

A big arm still clad in his old uniform jacket is braced beside your head. Simon whispers apologies into your hair; that he pulled himself out of a grave for a second time because he couldn’t untangle his soul from yours, but he got it wrong this time around. He didn’t make it in time.

“I won’t leave you though, love,” he says around kisses laid tender on the nape of your neck. He bites the meat of your shoulder hard enough to leave an imprint of his teeth. “Never gonna leave you.” His words make you slicker, hotter; tightening around him until he snarls and fucks more viciously. A promise you thought he couldn’t keep.

In the morning, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You take off your shirt and turn around. There’s a red bite mark on your upper left shoulder and it aches when you touch it.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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exhaslo · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 26- Stressed!Miguel x Stranger!Reader (Public Sex)

*Requested by Reader ;) Also, early update due to working both jobs tmw *

To be forced to take a day off came to a surprise to Miguel. Everyone in his inner circle, his brother and even his AI, Lyla, had given Miguel an intervention on his mental health. Miguel had been working far too hard lately and it was showing. So, everyone thought it was a good idea to give him a day off and gave him a spa day. Miguel was in disagreement, but ended up giving in due to the appointment already being made. It was just one day. He could get back to work the next day.

Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he entered the spa. There were a few things that he got signed up for. This was just a temporary relaxation. He was going to go right back to work tomorrow. Looking around, Miguel decided to enter the massage parlor first. Afterwards, he will enter the sauna and let the steam relieve his stress.

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You hummed happily as you skipped your way into the spa. You have had a rough couple of weeks and needed a day off. Luckily, you managed to get a day off from both of your jobs and managed to win a free spa day. You swore you could see the sparkles in your eyes when you looked in the mirror. You were going to enjoy today.

Exploring the spa, you took advantage of the all paid expense. First, you got a massage, then you got a scalp care, face treatment, everything you could possibly do. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you laid against one of the cozy chairs, getting your feet worked on now. Next was going to be the sauna. You were going to sweat away all the remaining stress before showering and leaving the spa for the day. You had already been there for a while and you were loving it.

Once your feet were done, you inhaled deeply. Now this was heaven. Heading towards the sauna, you stopped at the locker room and stripped the remainder of your clothing. You grabbed one of the towels the spa offered and wrapped it around your naked body. You were a little nervous since the sauna was a shared space and you were going in there naked, but it was a weekday and the spa was pretty empty. According to the worker, not many people even went into the sauna during this time of year.

"Soooo, all to myself!" You chirped quietly.

Entering the sauna room, you gulped at the heat. It was pretty warm in here. The room was a decent size, but to your disappointment, there was someone already inside. You made your way to the opposite side of the stranger. He looked to be asleep. Worried since it was hot in here, you slowly made your way beside him. The stranger was tall, toned and handsome. He caught you by surprise. The man looked like he could be a model!

"E-Excuse me," You whispered, nervous to be talking to a naked man.

Not getting through to him, you sighed softly. You needed to wake him up. Glancing at his chest, your eyes widen as you saw his towel poking high. Now it wasn't just the room that was hot. You felt your cheeks burn as the stranger's erection was poking against his towel. Normally, you would look away, but his dick was huge. You had also been sexually frustrated these last few months so the fantasies started to ravish your mind.

Miguel had closed his eyes for only a moment. He did not even notice that he was dozing off. The sound of your voice brought him back to his senses. Miguel tried to ignore you, knowing full well the position he was in. He could hear your voice tremble in embarrassment as you tried to wake him up. This stranger who smelled so sweet. This stranger who was now staring at his hard on. What was he to say? Miguel's ears perked as he heard your heart rate speed up. Oh. Looks like he wasn't the only one who needed some relief.

"Do you want to touch it?" Miguel asked, hoping to spook you away. You squeaked, scooting away from him,

"S-Sorry! I thought you were asleep! I-I didn't mean to stare!" You panicked. Miguel opened his eyes, observing you in that small towel you were wearing,

"I'm sorry for putting you in this position," He watched as you held onto the towel for dear life, "I'm Miguel,"

"(Y/N)" You were hesitant before glancing back at his dick, "Um...Is it okay...If I do?"

Miguel was surprised by your comment. He thought he was just being funny. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. Not exactly how either of you expected this day to go. Miguel groaned lowly as you slowly approached him, moving the towel and hesitantly touching his large dick. Your hands were soft, yet sweaty from the heat. Miguel covered his mouth as you admired his cock.

"S-Sorry! This must be super weird!" You gasped, quickly moving away. Miguel grabbed your wrist,

"Wait-" He swallowed hard as he felt his mouth dry, "It's not part of the spa, but-"

You knew where he was going with this. You bit you lower lip, rubbing your legs slightly. Were you really about to agree to having sex with this hot stranger? Honestly, your mind was so focused on getting relief that you agreed. Miguel groaned lowly as he brought you in for a feverish kiss. The towels you both wore fell as he pinned you against the sauna wall. The heat making your minds foggy, forgetting that you were in a public place.

You wrapped your arms around Miguel's shoulders, your fingers tangling with his hair. Miguel responded with a grunt as his harden erection started to grind against your dripping cunt. Your body trembled in delight, finally about to get what you've been waiting for. A solid and quick fuck. Something to really relief you.

"Just gotta ask, do you go up to any naked-"

"Before you finish that, no," You huffed, muffling a moan as he kept rubbing his dick between your folds, "You just caught me on my day off to get some much needed stress relief."

"Heh, same here."

Miguel entered two fingers into your dripping pussy, wanting to warm you up before ravishing you. You covered your mouth, trying to surprises your moans. Miguel groaned as he watched you. You looked so sexy, moaning against his hand fucking your pussy. Your hips moving along with his hand, desperate for more. Miguel was careful to listen to anyone coming by. He was enjoying himself and did not want to get interrupted.

You moaned into your hand as Miguel's fingers furiously pumped into your pussy. Your hips moving with his hand as you tried to chase your upcoming high. You gasped as he curled his fingers right at your sweet spot, finally making you cum. Miguel removed his fingers, stroking his dick with you juices. He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You still couldn't believe that you were going this. You were really going to fuck this sexy stranger.

Miguel grunted lowly as he bit your shoulder, pushing his thick cock inside your pussy. Your body arched as your tight gummy walls started to squeeze him. Miguel felt his mind grow hazier from the steam. This felt good. His dick was being sucked by your sweet pussy. How was he supposed to know that he needed this. Your whimpers were getting louder as he came to a stop. His dick was only half way into you and you were already about to cum.

"Solo un poco más. Por favor, necesito esto. (Just a little bit more. Please, I need this.)" Miguel groaned lowly. You whined lowly, spreading your legs as much as you could,

"S-So big," You gripped his hair, "G-Gimme a sec,"

Miguel agreed, paying attention to the door. The heat was getting to him. He needed to make this quick. Watching you relax and squeeze his dick more, Miguel continued to push his way inside you. You cried out a moan, slowly grinding you hips against his. Miguel took his as a sigh and started to thrust into you. Your eyes widen as you moaned loudly. Miguel flinched as quickly swallowed your moans as he pounded his dick inside your velvet walls.

Your mind started to sway as you cam hard against his dick. Miguel was bullying your poor cunt, not giving you a chance to relax or adjust. His tip hitting you cervix as his balls slapped against your ass. His dick was so thick and long that you swore you felt him enter pass your cervix. Honestly, you did not know. All you knew was that he was fucking your brains out and you were loving it. Miguel was not showing any signs of stopping as he brought out another orgasm from you.

"That's right, cum for me," Miguel groaned as his dick started to form a white ring from your juices, "Esto se siente tan bien. Un coño tan bonito y apretado para mí. (This feels so good. Such a nice tight pussy for me.)"

"M-Mig-" You moaned as his dick twitched inside you.

Miguel told himself not to. But he could not think straight. Miguel grunted as he slapped himself against you roughly, cumming inside you. He leaned you against the wall, gasping for air along with you. He groaned lowly, grabbing both of your towels. You reached for yours, wrapping it around you as you both exited the sauna. Miguel helped you walk since your legs were trembling from the rough sex he just gave you.

"That...was amazing," You panted softly, shivering as you exited the sauna. The only heat left in your body was Miguel's cum dripping out of your pussy.

"You know, if you're not busy...I can take you out for a coffee...As a thanks." He muttered. You felt your cheeks heat up,

"I'd love that...and if you're not busy...We can continue this little stress relief...at my place?"

Miguel just stared at you before agreeing. He exchanged numbers with you and the two of you proceeded to do as agreed. Miguel took you for coffee before heading to your place and fucking you dumb there. The two of you enjoyed the stress relief, not wanting to stop. Miguel's dick drilling your poor pussy was mind blowing.

The two of you ended up calling out of work the next day.

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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animeshotsh · 4 months

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Chains P2 | Yandere!Alastor x Overlord!Reader x Brother!Husk

Notes: I havent seen the season finale so this may have OOC characters/events/ canon divergence in terms of time.

Warnings: Yandere!Alastor | mentions of blood, fight, violence, cursing | Mentions of Alastor eating habits | grammar mistakes |

Tags: @lorkai

Staying at the hotel has proved to be both, good and bad. Good, because you got to be with your brother everyday, feeling his soul so close made your mood improve a lot. When in the past you would be more cruel, angry and always hissing now you found a part of yourself you thought you had lost. Smiling and purring (the last only with Husk), its was a good Change. You also could see the good the Hotel was making in your Brother. Now sober and less grumpy towards others. Showing sings of trust and affection.

Now the bad, or terrible was that Alastor was always around.

Always.

His shadows could not mix with yours thanks to your power, but they would follow you and then tell Alastor where you were. And Alastor knowing how much you hated him would appear, calling you "sweet" nicknames that made you give him the death stare.

On Alastor part he was trhilled to have you so close and without having to do something for it. He never undertood why you cared for Husk so much but he took it for his advantage, he knew you would not try to pick up a fight with him because of your brother. And seeing you, your eyes showing just how much you wanted nothing more to destory him but could not made him feel things he was not sure what they were but the feeling was not an unpleasent one.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Husk prepared himself an early drink only for it to be snached form his hands. A glass of milk now replacing it.

He shoot an annoyed look but still decided to drink the milk, he took notice of the fish sandwich you have made for him too.

Oh, you could be so sweet.

"You need Real food" you simply stated, crossing your arms "I can just smell how bad you have been taking care of yourself"

"Im fine, you dont have to worry" Husk dismissed. He did not want you to find out how truly fucked he had been.

"Oh~ I would not say that!! As your owner I had to stand your smell and poor hehaviour. Its nice to have a sweet sister to be around right?" Alastor spook towering over Husk them appearing besides you. "A sister who's soul its tainted but has such a good smell and so powerfull" Alastor was salivating by now "I wonder if you teast such as good as you look my Dear! No other overlord could compare to-" Alastor was stopped when a very pissed Husk trow the rest of the milk towards his face.

"Stop talking about my sister"

"Husk-"

"And what did you just do" The voice of Alastor changed, its shadow getting bigger. His eyes now a deep black with no emotion with his clawns being out and ready to attack Husk.

"I say, dont, talk, about, my, sister," Husk responded his love for you overcoming his fear of Alastor's power. He could crush his soul if he wanted.

In response Alasto's shadow started to grow, his teet got sharper, horns bigger as well as his claws and body. His eyes now a deep black with pupils like radio ones. A green chain appear, showing how Alastor owned Husk's soul.

"My, my, looks like I have left you be too free in here" Alastor sinister voice said pulling Husk towards him who tried to remain emotionless.

"Maybe I should show you what happens when you missbehave" Two claws went for Husk's left eyes ready to pull it out. "Maybe I should pull this thing out and eat it. Let you see how truly bad I can be" he half joked.

Before anything could happen Alastor was pushed hard away from Husk by you. Your own true Demon form now on display. You got bigger, your wings now with a sharp end as well as your tail, your eyes just like Alastor deep black with no pupil. You got two pointed horns as well. And your hands were now with black furr, red claws out.

"Dont fucking dare to hurt my brother" you roared sending off your poker cards to cut off the black tentacles Alastor had called.

He smirked, pulling out his shadows to try and get you down only for them to be vanish when a sudden fire erupet from your hands.

"My dear! This is New, I never know you could control fire!" Alastor said pretty much now into the battle with you forgetting Husk.

A wall was crashed as you two rolled outside the hotel, getting everybody's attention.

Alastor ended on top of you a tentacle firm around your neck, however one of your poker cards was against his neck. Just one move from any of you and both of you would be dead.

"WHAT IS THIS" A very Angry Charlie called, besides her Vaggie came looking just as angry.

Alastor smirked letting you got, going back to his usual form as you did as well.

"Ah Charlie! This was just a small fight between old Friends" Alastor said moving his hand to repair the wall.

"SMALL? You two broke a wall" Vaggie called getting just a smirk from Alastor and a blush from you.

"Im sorry, this wont happen again" you promised seeing Alastor from the corner of your eyes.

"It better not, or you are out" Vaggie finally called. In reality she would prefer for you to stay and Alastor to leave but she knew that saddly they needed the radio Demon in the hotel.

~☆~☆~☆~

As night fell you went to Alastor's room, knocking with Force the door opened revealing himself with a fake suprised look.

"(Y/N) I was not expecting you"

"Lets get to the Point. What can I give an no. Not my soul so you wont hurt my brother"

"Well, you need to know it was his fault" he started getting a hiss from you. "Can you blame me? He trow milk at me, my suit was ruined"

"We both know you were looking for a reaction out of him. Just tell me what you want"

Alastor seemed to think, you were proud and firm. Too proud to negotiate your soul. Even if you loved your brother you knew it would not change much. Sure, Husk would be free but how free? He could very much try and give his soul back to get yours out of Alastor's hand.

"Well, what I was saying was true. I wish to know if you teast as good as you look" he smirked taking your chin in his hand " you might have something to give me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Alastor stood in his room. Carefully drinking from a tea cup with a black liquid inside. Besides it a full bottle with the same liquid was.

He closed his eyes, feeling the flavor of your blood. If your blood was like this what would your flesh be like? Could he ever dream on getting a bite from you?

And why did he find the small fight against you so....he had no words. He felt alive full of something he could not understand.

Oh, he had to get your soul somehow. No matter how.

~☆~☆~☆~

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #husk x reader

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

Note

hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!

Obsessed.

Thank you for the ask!!

So I wrote you this gorgeous 1k fic. I was so fucking proud of it. And then my computer deleted the WHOLE THING (which is why I am so behind on responding to this lmao). But. I rewrote as much of it as possible, and then changed and added a few things. So now it's better than before.

I really enjoy this version ,and I hope you do too!! so please enjoy!!!!!

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

TW: Anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts, self-destructive tendencies, swearing, abandonment issues lmao

“What do you mean….”

You couldn’t look at him. How could you? I mean, leaving the love of your life because you know he could never love you back in the way you love him. He’d just leave anyways.

They all do.

You’re just trying to minimize the pain.

But why did it hurt so fucking much.

Which was why you kept your gaze anywhere but him.

“I-I-I—“ You kept your gaze on the ground. “I can’t do t-this anymore Spencer.”

“Can’t do what. Y/n you aren’t making any sense. What’s going on?”

You should you head. “It’s over. Spencer.”

"Y/n what are you..."

Looking at the ground, you began to fidget, something about his gaze on you was making he whole situation worse. Originally you were going to just send him a text and disappear for the rest of your life, but he came home early. He wasn't supposed to be home for another day.

"Spencer I-I." You flexed your hands, trying to find the right words. "It's done Spence. I can't.."

"You can't what?" His voice was a whisper. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, but you wouldn't dare look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave and stay and he would take your heart in his hands and crush it to dust.

But why did this hurt so much?

"What is going on Y/n. Talk to me."

You couldn't understand why he was being so caring. Why was he so fucking perfect. It felt like a sick joke that the universe gave you this perfect man, and then put the sinking feeling in your gut when it got too good. Like something was going to go wrong.

And you wanted to be ahead of it. Start the grieving process now before you got too deep.

It's too late for that anyways.

His voice was soft. He didn't move towards you. He didn't want to 'spook' you---he knew you so well.

You know him so well.

Clearly, whatever tactic you had tried to employ when he came home, wasn't working, so you decided to shift. You shifted to the anger resting in your gut. The hot and heavy coals that burned through your skin and made you seeth with anger.

"Y/n, please, look at me."

You couldn't. And he fucking knew that too. You stormed past him and towards the bedroom.

Spencer was speechless, completely unsure as to what was going on.

When he arrived home you had been shoving things into your suitcase, but then when you saw him you froze up and started to try and break up with him.

"Talk to me. What is going on?"

You ignored him and started to pull clothes out of their respective drawers and onto the bed you two shared. It was hectic, and aggressive. You were slamming things, stomping--anything to hide the slight tremor in your hands, and make you seem bigger than you were.

"Y/n!"

His voice made you jump but it didn't stop you. You took the pang of guilt in your stomach and tried to twist it into the anger you so desperately tried to justify.

Spencer slowly moved over to you and tried to take you hand.

"NO." You threw the small pile of clothes you had just taken from the closet on to the ground and pulled away quickly. "No Spencer god. Wh-what don't you fucking get. We're done. It's over."

Spencer rarely heard you raise your voice, let alone yell, and definitely never at him. But you weren't even looking at him.

You fucking hated it when he profiled you. It made your skin crawl when you felt his eyes roaming over you. "Look at me."

His voice wasn't hateful. It wasn't angry. It was soft, understanding.

God why did he have to make this so fucking hard.

"Y/n..."

"Spencer. Stop."

You felt the moment he realized what was happening in your brain., You weren't the easiest to read, but you weren't exactly a closed book either.

"Look at me."

You looked up and made eye contact with him, hoping that the last part of your will would hold strong, and get you through this.

Spencer's eyes were filled with worry and disbelief. You saw the swarm of emotions as he locked eyes with you. But behind all of the disbelief and concern and love and pain was fear. You could see the pain he was so desperately trying to hide from you.

You know him so well.

Spencer could see the straight fire in yours. They were lit with a facade of anger and pain and hatred. But you could never hate Spencer. Never. And he saw right through it. He could see the panic in your eyes. The pure terror and pain.

You hated that he knew you so well.

"Y/n..."

He took one step forward, not trying to corner you, but trying to get closer to you. You took one step back.

"No." You shook your head.

"Please just talk to me."

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid wonderful voice and his kind eyes and his love and the way he knows exactly how you take your tea in the morning and all of your favorite books and why you love the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice so much and what animals you wanted to have one day and why you hated spiders and the ocean so much and which museums and monuments you had on your bucket list. Fuck this man for loving you so hard, and making you want to spend every single moment of your life with him.

"I-I--" and fuck him for making your voice crack. You took another small step backwards.

"Please." Another step forward.

This time, all you could do was shake your head and break eye contact. You were tensing up the closer he got to you.

"Y/n."

"N-No" You chooked on your own voice. A single tear broke through and slide down your cheek.

"Baby please..." Another step. "Just talk to me. What's going on?"

That was the final straw for you.

The dam broke, and tears poured down your face. You let out the most heartbreaking sob that Spencer could have never imagined.

His arms were quickly around you, catching you and bringing you both down to the floor, where he held you against his chest.

You shook your head and tried to escape from his grasp, but he just held on tighter to you, not letting you go. Spencer could never let you go, he just didn't know how to tell you that.

Through your tears, you started to hyper ventilate. Spencer wouldn't let you leave his arms. It felt like a boa constrictor. You couldn't breathe.

You started to panic, not taking in as much air as you should, causing your head to get dizzy. You tugged on Spencer's arms as he tightened his grip on you, determined to keep you safe in his arms while you got whatever it was out of your system.

You screamed at him to let you go. He didn't respond, only holding you against his chest and you angrily slammed your hands against it.

Why was he so fucking perfect. Why couldn't he just let you leave and walk away.

Fuck.

Once your breathing had started to even out a bit, Spencer adjusted the two of you, still on the ground, so that you were straddling his lap with your arms around his neck.

Surrounding you was all of your clothes thrown about, and your suit case barely filled with anything.

He didn't say anything, just continued to rub his thumb against your hip, letting you come down from whatever sort of panic you just went through.

He held you close to his body, deciding in that moment to never let you go, ever.

You felt the world slow down. Time melted beneath you as the sun rose and set, the moon waxed and waned, The leaves browned and fell of the trees, and the earth stopped spinning at the end of time and all of the stars had died out. The world had stopped but you were still in Spencer's arms.

"I don't know..." He whispered in your ear, and the world started to turn again. "What just happened in your head--"

You tried to speak up but he just shushed you gently. "But we don't have to talk about it until you're ready."

You nodded.

What did you do in this world to deserve this man?

"Why don't we make some tea?" He whispered, and you just nodded again, holding onto Spencer as if the floor was going to give out and cause you to fall through the pits of hell and judgment, away from one another.

Neither of you went to move, finding peace in one another's arms.

While Spencer truly had no idea what just occurred, or why it occurred, he was still sitting here with you. And while you owed Spencer an apology and an explanation, he was still sitting here with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulders.

Spencer Reid was going to stay with you for as long as you'd let him, and he would do anything to get you to see that, even if it meant sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, holding you until the stars burned out and the world stopped spinning.

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blue-sadie · 6 months

Text

A Change In The Air

Alpha Tonowari x Omega Sully Reader x Beta Ronal

Summary: they could feel it, the change in the air but they don't know if it's for the better or.... the better

Warning: beach sex, omegaverse

(I tried something a bit different so tell me if you like it 😁)

Yn/3rd person pov

The chief and chieftainess felt something change in the air, since they rose early this morning they could feel something was different something was coming.

Tonowari was somewhat excited of something different happening and not the same old same old, he was kinda tired of it while ronal felt on edge and stuck to her role keeping to herself most of the day.

Tonowari felt her unease and when they heard the horn of new comers he stuck by her side shielding her protectively, the crowd parted letting their leaders through, Tonowaris steps faulted as he caught sight of one of the outsiders, his pheromones spiking with excitement as their eyes met.

Ronal stepped out from behind her mate her brows frowned in confusion at her mates behavior intill her eyes too met the same outside, both tonowari and ronal felt as if the world stop, like time had frozen as they stared at her.

"We come seeking refuge" tonowari immediately recognized the famous jake sully as he shook his out of his daze by speaking up "my family is endanger" he gestured to the kids and his mate, ronal moved to look between them her eyes raking over their bodies her hands grabbing at them and speaking off their flaws.

Tonowari actually felt somewhat embarrassed for his mates behavior and his eyes followed her intently as she stood by the girl that peaked his interest, ronal paused her eyes carefully moving over the woman's body her body shaking slightly as the woman turned to her, her pheromones giving off a warning which ronal hissed at making tonowari snap at her "stop it" ronal was shocked and whimpered going back to her mates side.

"You can stay and learn our ways" he turned to his people raising his arms "we will treat them like babies who are just learning to swim treat them well" he spoke some of the people gasped and whispered to each but tonowari ignored them looking towards his children "you will teach their kids our was and tsireya help them to their new home" he raiser his hand before aonung could protest.

Tonowari and ronal stood their ground watching the family unload their eyes mostly following the woman watching her caring nature as she spook to the sully children, ronal shifted as the woman carried stuff and was about to walk past them.

"And what is your name" tonowari asked making the woman stop and stare at them "yn" their bodies shivered hearing her voice they almost purred at the sound of it, "come to us later I'm sure there's alot we can discuss" the couple felt it and they knew yn felt it too.

I nodded nervously shifting the load in my arms before quickly scarring off after my brother and his family and dark blush forming on my cheeks, I quickly set the stuff down in the tent and started helping neytiri unpack while Jake and the kids went after the family meeting of jake warning the kids about doing anything stupid.

Unpacking and starting dinner took us a few minutes into eclipse "I think I'm gonna go exploring a bit before bed" I said neytiri smiled and nodded as she was mixing the food "just make sure you don't get lost sis" jake murmured his eyes focused on his gun making sure everything was set incase something were to happen.

I missed tuks hair as I walked past her making her whine "I'll see you guys later" I said and slowly walked along the woven pathways, I made my way onto the beach smiling to the few people that were enjoying the moon light, I took in a deep breath the salt in the air made it crisp much different then the forest of Pandora.

I started to hum as I made my way further down the beach further from civilization I thought I was alone intill I heard it, my hears flickered as I slowly followed the noises my eyes widening as I saw them, tonowari and ronal naked on the sand their bodies intertwined with eachother, ronals legs were thrown over tonowaris shoulders the force of his thrusts sending her further into the sand.

Ronals moans and whines were loud and struggled, I felt myself quiver and start to get aroused a small whimper leaving my lips, my eyes widened as a familiar feeling started to rise I fell to my knees clenching my stomach the heat between my legs increasing, "f-fuck" I whined the heat radiating to other parts of my body, my cheeks burning and my head fuzzy.

My nose crinkled as their honey scented pheromones filled my nose making more pitiful moans leave my lips this was so embarrassing I haven't even exchanged more then a nod with them "and what do we have here" I squirmed and slowly lifted my gaze my vision somewhat blurred tonowari and ronal stood naked infront of me.

"Looks like our mate needs our help" ronal cooed and slowly kneeled infront of me her hand coming to clasp my chin keeping my head close to hers "I'll forgive you for growling at me because you just look so pitiful" she teased bringing her lips to my skin her plump lips grazed my skin as she moved it to my mating gland her tongue licking the skin making me whimper "she's perfect" ronal growled before pushing her teeth into my skin.

A struggled scream left my lips my hands immediately moving to clamp down on her shoulders, my eyes widen as I felt tonowaris hand cover my mouth "as much as I'm sure we'd love to hear those beautiful screams I'm also sure my people don't need to come running and find us" he muttered moving behind me and sinking to his knees, he too moved his lips to my neck and bit down.

My body squirmed between them making them press their bodies closer to me trapping me between them tightly "move back my dear so we can pleasure this horny little omega" he growled pulling back from my skin, my skin felt cold from the lose of his lips against my skin, ronal whined but listened to the alpha and moved away from my body "go onto all fours omega" tonowari commanded and pushed me forward I gasped feeling the roughness of the sand against the palm of my hands.

"Now your gonna eat out our pretty beta while I fuck you" he growled his hands tearing off my skirt, my eyes pleaded as I stared up at ronal making her coo and slowly move her hand to my cheek but quickly moved it to grasp my hair tightly I gasped from the pain and squealed out as she pushed my face down between her legs.

I slowly started to lick her folds causing her to moan out and tug at my hair "that's it omega" he murmured and moved his already leaking cock to my entrance thrusting in fully forcing me more into ronals pussy "ohh keep doing that tono" she moaned.

Tonowari chuckled and started to thrust in and out each time pressing me into ronal, my moans and crys of pleasure were muffled by ronal and she kept praising me for it "those moans are sending vibrations through my body" she cried out arching her back.

Tonowari grunted as I felt his cock start to swell my eyes widening and a few tears started to form, his knot was forming inside me "your ours you both are mine" he growled snapping his hips roughly into my causing me to cry out in ronals folds, "cumming" ronal screamed out her fluids filling my mouth, she moved away her body still twitching from her climax she watched through half lidded eyes as I released around tonowari cock but he still wasn't done.

"Fuck fuck fuck" he growled his hands clasping my hips tightly his nails digging into my skin almost that he could draw blood "fuck" he yelled thrusting in one more time before releasing his seed inside me, my eyes fluttered as my arms gave out making me fall down against the sand, I lazily lifted my head and looked down to try and see where our bodies were connected but I couldn't because the amount of semen released inside me caused my belly to bulge.

"Don't worry pup there's way more where that came from and trust me we won't be stopping any time soon".

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @erenjaegerwifee @greekgods15 @neteyamyawne @laylasbunbunny @thatonepansexual2000

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar pandora #avatar way of water #avatar x reader smut #avatar smut #tonowari smut #tonowari x reader x ronal #tonowari x reader #tonowari #tonowari x reader smut #avatar omegaverse #alpha tonowari x omega reader #ronal x reader #ronal #ronal x reader smut #ronal smut #ronal x tonowari #beta ronal x omega reader

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coralinnii · 1 year

Note

Hello to you! I was wondering if you were taking requests. I just had a prompt I thought you might like! Any characters you'd like, with an s/o who can and will get violent easily if someone disrespects the love of their life? Like someone calls cater fake and suddenly a chairs getting thrown at their head. I'm sorry for asking, I just thought this was funny :)

❋ Feral!MC who defends their man ❋ feat: Epel ⭑ Ace ⭑ Cater ⭑ Malleus genre: fluff, humour note: gn!reader, no pronouns used with reader, established relationships, reader is implied to be magicless, depictions of physical fighting and violence (punching, kicking, etc),

So, I usually just randomly pick a set of 4 characters but this worked out so well it was hilarious.

All his life, Epel feels underestimated due to his fragile-looking appearance and stature. He spent his early adolescence running amok to prove himself a man but since meeting Vil, he’s learning to hold himself back.

But that doesn’t mean his situation has changed. There will always be one or two schoolmates that continue to demean him for his looks.

“You Pomefiore wimps are all the same. What, too afraid to get your makeup ruined?”

Oh, there is nothing Epel wants more than to give these jerks a piece of his mind, but nothing these guys can say would compare to what Vil would do if he starts a fight here so he chose to turn his cheek on their superficial comments.

Sadly, the offenders did not appreciate that as they started to grow red over being ignored and started raising their magic pens when…

“Ooff!” One of the grunts fell to his knees clutching his lower half, revealing you standing behind him with a look that could scare the campus ghosts.

“The hell is manly about picking on someone minding his own business?!” You seethed in fury as you glared at the wounded student and his friend helping him. “Epel has more manly qualities in his pinky than you do in your whole body, including that sad manhood” You sneered at the term, barely believing one could call any part of them “man”.

You stepped closer to the two male students, one of them covering his already injured equipment. With an air of barely contained wrath, you stomped your foot extremely close in front of the fallen student, right between his legs “Leave before I make sure that you two will be walking weird for the whole school year” Your eyes glinted with not a threat, but a promise.

With the two bullies running off, you looked to Epel. Gone was the fury in your eyes but rather concern.

He really shouldn’t be, but darn it if he wasn’t proud of you. He wanted to praise you so much for how amazing you were. He knows now that violence is not the best option but it sure makes you look cool.

If he were his younger self, he’d have been embarrassed that someone fought his battles for him but he knew you do it out of love and never because you didn’t think he couldn’t defend himself. He’s learning new forms of power, and your willingness to fight for him was another side to strength he didn’t have growing up.

Epel swore to continue growing up, to appreciate the strengths he found such as you, and to someday be strong enough to protect you forever.

“We can’t let Vil hear about this, but that was super cool! Ya sure spook ‘em good!”

Ace is a cheeky bast*rd. Sure, he knows when he should shut up but when push comes to shove, he’s not afraid to say how he really feels and doesn’t care how he can come across to others. Due to that attitude, he has made a few enemies that don't appreciate his words and like him, aren't afraid to tell him that.

“Who are you to say that about us? Acting like you’re better than us, get off that high horse of yours!”

Ace rolled his eyes over the student’s weak insult but did nothing. Something like this isn’t worth getting hurt over. The redhead was about to put on his fakest smile and ready to satiate the poor kid’s ego but suddenly a blurry figure breezed past him and straight at the student who started this commotion.

And the sound of something solid hitting flesh rang through the hallways

Loud gasps and curious whispers filled in as students saw that you landed a straight punch on the other student, who’s sitting stunned on the floor.

“If you didn’t do stupid sh*t, then maybe Ace doesn't have to call you out on it!”

Boy is smug af over you getting all feral and defending him like that. Watching someone he likes fight for him and getting angry on his behalf tickles his heart. How many guys can say his lover would beat someone up for him? Ace felt shivers down his spine seeing you all fiery and angry for his sake, yelling at the dumbfounded student how Ace doesn’t have to be nice to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

“And at least Ace has a brain to think before doing something stupid unlike you morons! Talk sh*t, get hit!” Seeing you angrily compliment him is strangely attractive to the Heartslabyul freshman that he rather push to the back of his mind to ponder at a later date.

As your voice got louder as your fury burned, which Ace feared might catch the attention of a teacher or worse, his housewarden.

Always quick on his feet both metaphorically and physically, Ace used the chaotic situation to run in between the crowd and escape his enemies before a teacher ended up showing up just as he predicted. When the coast is clear, Ace will definitely tease you on your little feral child moment.

Great job, you really stroked this kid's ego

“You sure got scary all for lil ol’ me~ You love me that much, huh?”

Cater knows how some people see him, what they say about him but he doesn’t care since in the end he doesn’t affect him that much. Words from a couple of rando people means little to him.

It was an uneventful day, when he heard a couple of classmates whisper behind his back, words like “fake” and “clout-chaser” made purposely clear for anyone, including him, to hear.

“Talk about vibe killers” The laid-back senior thought, a sting of annoyance managing to build in his heart. It doesn’t crush him but still, having someone insult you never feels good.

He was planning to take the high road, pretend not to hear them and walk away when he heard a commotion from that direction. When Cater turned around, he nearly dropped his phone when he saw you…with your hands in a vice grip on one of the jeering student’s hair.

“Say that again, I dare you!” You screamed as you looked ready to turn the poor boy bald. “Show off that loser behavior so everyone can see!”

The student in your grasp was helpless and not even his friend could help him because any attempt made to you only made you tighten your grip on his locks.

“You don't know anything about Cater, how can you call him fake?! He’s considerate and always makes sure not to make anyone uncomfortable, unlike you motherfu-“

You couldn’t finish your sentence as smoke started filling the space, which sent everyone in the vicinity in a state of chaos thinking a fire had started. Surprised, you released the fool in your grasp and in that moment you felt someone pull you away from the smoky mess. In your angry confusion, you nearly restarted your assault when you recognized the familiar light ginger locks and charming green eyes through the fading smoke. It was Cater that pulled you away from the crowd before a teacher finally showed up and cleared the smoke spell he casted.

You nearly gave Cater a heart attack. The last thing he wants is for you to get in trouble or worse, have a target on your back due to your fiery temper. Secretly, he felt a sense of guilty pleasure knowing how fired up you get for someone like him, plus that wild side of you is scarily appealing to him.

Even if he prefers to hide things with a smile, he worries for your safety more than anything. He has a plethora of ways to get himself out of a bad situation so he hopes you could trust him a bit more.

He might not be able to stop you from getting into fights for his sake, but at least let him protect you when you do

“Hoo boy, that was a close one! You gotta trust me a little more, you know?~”

When Malleus saw you walking back to your dorm one late night, thunderous clouds quickly formed as he noticed bruising on your face and hands, obviously from a scuffle.

“Who is responsible for this?” Malleus spoke calmly but the dangerous strikes of lightning raining down in the far distance spoke volumes of his true emotions.

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to downplay your injuries as you explained that you got into a fight with a couple of students earlier that day. Malleus was curious but you looked tired and decided to let you rest for that night

Malleus heard later from Lilia that you suddenly tackled a bunch of students when you overheard them speaking ill of the dragon fae, saying how he only earned his housewarden title purely because of his powers and not due to skills or competence.

Ok, let’s make it clear. Anybody who dares to insult Malleus definitely has a death wish, with the exception of Leona. Being one of the most powerful mages of his time and having a loyal group of guards that isn’t afraid to take someone down, anyone with survival instincts would think twice before talking sh*t about the heir of Briar Village.

But this is true everywhere, there is always that tiny group of people that dare to speak nonsense, acting as though their actions won’t have consequences.

Hah, they thought.

The students who witnessed the fight recalled the sheer rage exuding from you as you continued to pummel on the target of your wrath. You were finally pulled away by a teacher and was sent to Crowley's office, which explained your late return.

“They don’t know anything! They don’t see how hard you’re trying to understand humans for the future of fae-human relations. The lessons and training you do to someday lead your kingdom, they know none of it. None at all!”

Malleus has Silver and especially Sebek who would yell at anyone that would even dare to breathe weirdly in Malleus’ presence, so naturally hearing that a fight broke out because someone supposedly disrespected him is a common story for him. But this was the first time he heard it was you who started the fight in his honor.

He brushed against your cheek, where your bruise was before he quickly healed it. He wondered if humans were all reckless when in love like you were. He should reprimand you, tell you that such violence is unnecessary as petty hate is nothing to him.

Although, supposed if he were in your position, he wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t do the same, perhaps even worse. Afterall, you were his precious treasure.

This man won’t care who started the fight, he’s smiting anyone for trying to harm you in any way (A red flag but a confusing one)

“I would prefer you avoid such conflicts in the future, my dear. Not for your sake, but for theirs if I learn of the fools who dare lay a hand on you”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland headcanons #epel felmier #epel x reader #twst ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #twst ace x reader #cater diamond #cater x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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too-much-tma-stuff · 14 days

Text

An Unwelcome Guest (part 5)

First | Previous | Masterpost | Next

Thank you to mossycobblestonewrites for betaing for me!

----------

Something was off with Danny, he had been twitchy since earlier that day. Jason wondered if it had something to do with the meeting with Batman he’d agreed to tonight, but he didn’t think that was it. Batman didn’t scare Danny, Jason getting hurt might, but Jason was ready for this and with Danny there he wasn’t going to get hurt.

As much as Jason wanted to let Danny talk about this when he was ready, they needed to be at their best, and on the same page. “Fox, in my office,” he demanded, using the false name Danny still went by in public after Danny had twitched one too many times. The goons around them cackled and nudged Danny with their elbow or slapped him in the shoulder, probably expecting them to go fuck which… it was a fair assumption, they did that a lot, but not today.

Still, Danny smiled at them in a way that gave nothing away before sliding into the office after him. “So, are we here for you or me?” Danny asked, slipping past Jason to lean against the edge of the desk, smiling at him a little.

“You,” Jason stated. It could have been him. He was pretty stressed about the meeting and he wouldn’t have minded taking it out on someone. Not today though, not when Danny was already upset. “What’s got you so twitching, Moonlight?” Jason questioned gently, stepping forward to rest his hands on Danny’s waist, forcing himself to be a calming and caring presence right now.

“It’s nothing, Jason, really,” Danny reassured, giving Jason a small smile.

“It’s not,” Jason argued, brushing Danny’s bangs out of his face. “I’ve never seen you this twitchy. What’s got you spooked?”

Danny looked down, unable to meet Jason’s eyes as he fought with himself, conflicted about what, or how much to say. Jason waited patiently. Danny sighed and looked back up at him. “You know I haven’t told you everything. You’ve been really good about letting me keep my secrets, and I appreciate that. I told you I wasn’t human and you didn’t push to know what I was. I appreciate that, and I’m still not ready to talk about it, But… I felt a new presence in Gotham this morning. I mean, people come and go all the time, I wouldn’t think anything of it really. But they tried to See us. I blocked their vision, but I’m worried about why they tried to look at all.

“I think that Batman might have something to do with it. I got angry when Batman tried to insist on meeting with you alone before and slipped a little. I’m worried they clocked me as not really human and if they did… what if they contact the GIW or something? I’m not ready to face them again,” Danny admitted with a small shudder. It was a very good reason to be jumpy really.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let them have you. We don’t have to go to the meeting if you don’t want to, or I can go alone,” Jason offered softly, but he knew Danny wouldn’t agree.

“No,” Danny snarled, grabbing onto Jason’s shirt. “No, I'm not letting you go alone! We’ll go, but it’s… Jason, if they try to get me I need you to run okay? Don’t try to save me. I can save myself, but not if I have to worry about you getting hurt. I just need permission to defend myself if it comes down to that. I can’t promise there won’t be collateral damage, it’s been a long time since I did anything full strength. I don’t know how… explosive it’ll be.”

“You don’t need my permission to defend yourself,” Jason told Danny disbelievingly. “But you have it anyway,” Jason added immediately when he saw the dubious look on Danny’s face, deeply relieved when he felt his boyfriend relax slowly.

“Alright,” Danny said with a little smile, “then we’ll be fine. Let’s go ahead with the meeting,” he encouraged, stretching up to kiss Jason sweetly before they went back to work.

--------

That night Jason and Danny went home a little early. Cooking and eating a quiet dinner together, letting the calm brace them for the meeting that night. Once they were finished and cleaned up they suited up again and headed out to the meeting spot they’d arranged with Batman; a warehouse just inside their territory. They had it staked out all day so there was no chance for a trap and arrived just before the time of the meeting so they would be there first.

Both Red Hood and Hyena were leaning against one of the pillars together, Hyena tucked under Jason’s arm when Batman and Robin came down from the rafters. Those two could never use a fucking door! Jason rolled his eyes in irritation, irritation that turned to anger when he realized they weren’t alone, shooting to stand up straight and face the newcomer. Someone was with them, a blond man in a brown trenchcoat. Constantine.

The temperature in the room dropped nearly ten degrees. Jason shivered, looking back at Danny for an explanation. Danny’s eyes were entirely green, no whites or pupils to be seen as he stared at Constantine, who at this point, was visibly cowering. Even Batman looked shocked by the shift in the air.

“You do Not have permission to enter My Haunt, Hellblazer,” Hyena hissed, his voice echoing oddly as he stepped forward, in front of Jason, his arm half out as if to shield him.

“I’m so sorry! Batman insisted I come, I promise I wouldn’t have come anywhere near your turf if it was up to me!” Constantine insisted, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Were you at least polite enough to bring an offering?” Danny questioned, his glowing eyes narrowed.

Constantine looked panicked as he quickly patted down his pockets. It seemed like the only thing he had was a pack of cigarettes. Danny laughed at him but considered the offering anyway, cocking his head. “They’re the brand Red Hood smoked, I’ll take them,” he decided. He held out his hand and Constantine tossed the pack to him, unwilling to get closer to a potential threat. Danny caught the pack easily and passed it off to Jason, who pocketed it.

“You smoke?” Batman asked Jason, sounding betrayed for some reason.

“Really!? That’s what you’re worried about right now?!” Constantine squeaked at Batman indignantly.

Danny cackled, shaking his head at them before looking at Batman with a thoughtful expression. “I’m assuming you brought him because you have questions and suspicions,” Danny asked with some disdain.

“And here I thought this meeting was because you wanted to see me,” Jason put in, holding his hands to his chest as if he was hurt.

“It is! I do! I’m just worried about you, this isn’t like you and if-” Batman started, sounding more and more like Bruce before Jason interrupted.

“If what? If he's manipulating me?” Jason scoffed, and shook his head. “He’s not, and you don’t fucking know me!”

Danny looked back and forth between all parties present before shrugging. “Do you know what I am, Hellblazer?” He asked curiously, looking back at Constantine, who hesitated, and then shook his head. “Do you have any skill with magic?” Danny continued. Constantine hesitated again, and then nodded. “Good. I will let you cast One spell, for honesty. Not to be forced to answer, not to bind me, but One spell circle to ensure I won’t lie. Then you,” he said looking at Batman defiantly, “can ask me your questions.”

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Jason asked, reaching out to grab Danny’s arm gently. “You don’t have to, you know it doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Ya, Jason was a little freaked out by the change in Danny here, but it didn’t really matter right now. They could talk about it later.

“I know it doesn’t, but there are some things I want to tell you too, and this will make it easier,” Danny reassured Jason, clearly smiling behind his mask.

“Um, if you’re sure?” Constantine hesitated, reluctant to piss Hyena off.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll watch you make the circle,” Danny confirmed, stepping forward as Constantine started to draw the circle. “You were the one who tried to spy earlier today, huh?” Danny asked and Constantine flinched.

“Ya, sorry about that,” Constantine apologized, his hands remaining steady as he drew, despite the nervousness in his voice

“Don’t worry about it. I’m relieved to know who it was,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “Just don’t try that again,” Danny added, shooting Constantine a glare.

The silence was heavy as Constantine finished the circle. Danny gave a satisfied nod as he stepped inside. The signs activated, glowing gold and then green. Danny seemed relaxed and comfortable again. “Right, spells’ active. I won’t answer everything but I can’t lie. Ask away,” Danny said smiling at Jason and spreading his arms a little.

It was Batman who managed to ask first; “What are your intentions with my Son?”

“To fuck him on every flat surface from here to Star City,” Danny stated, completely seriously, making Jason burst out laughing, Constantine choke, and Batman look like he’d bitten a lemon. “And to love him, truly and unconditionally,” he added, his expression softening as he looked back at Jason.

“I love you too, Cub,” Jason said fondly. He switched his attention to Batman with a frown, “I am Not your son. Fuck you.”

The lemon-bitten expression on Batman’s face got worse.

“What are you?” Constantine asked hesitantly and Danny shrugged.

“I’m a myth. If I told you what I am you’d probably think the spell failed rather than thinking I was telling the truth. I am an impossibility and a fact. That’s as much as I’m willing to say,” he declared, glancing at Batman.

Jason bit down another laugh at how dramatic and romantic Danny made it sound. Though it did make him wonder What exactly Danny was.

“Are you human?” Jason asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted Batman to hear it.

“I was human, not that long ago, and I’m not Not human now. I am as much human as I am anything else.” Danny mused, giving Jason a look that told him Danny knew he was being a little shit, and he was enjoying it. Honestly, that he had ever been fully human was news to Jason, he thought Danny had always been half. Had it been the tests that made him Something Else? Some new version of those chemically induced Metas?

“How powerful are you?” Batman, again.

“I don’t entirely know, it’s been a few years since I’ve really tested my limit,” Danny admitted with a little frown, “I do know the last time I was measured, I could have theoretically fought Superman and won without much trouble.” Behind him, Jason whistled softly, impressed. “I don’t use them because I’m not great at pulling my punches and I don’t want to damage Red Hood’s city.”

Constantine was glaring at Batman and making a quite clearly telegraphed ‘See?! I told you so!’ motion. Batman did not look pleased.

Hood stepped a little closer to the edge of the circle, drawing Danny’s full attention, turning more towards him. “That was why you asked me for permission to defend yourself if you needed to before we came here?” Danny nodded, looking a little bashful. “So you’d use them if I asked you too?” Red Hood asked. Danny hesitated, then nodded again.

“I’d do anything for you,” he confessed. The honesty was ragged, it dropped heavily into Jason’s chest as he realized the true weight and responsibility of that.

“Do you have a deal with him?” Constantine asked Danny, gesturing at Jason.

“No, no deal, no contract. I can’t be bound by such things,” Danny said, shaking his head.

Constantine looked a little green at that, though the non-magically inclined people in the room don’t know why. “Then why…”

“Because I love him. Because he gave me purpose and Home when I had none. Humanity ripped my haunt away from me and desecrated my grave. I don’t want to think about what I could have become if he hadn’t found me,” Danny admitted with a little smile, looking down almost bashfully.

“Your grave? So you are dead?” Constantine asked. Batman had fallen silent, probably pretty lost.

“There are many ways to be dead or undead, and having died is not the same thing as being dead,” Danny said loftily.

Jason was pretty sure he was enjoying being cryptic and mysterious, it made him snort an inelegant laugh. That made Danny’s mysterious composure break and he cackled as well, grinning back at Jason from behind his muzzle, so familiar and wonderful. Jason loved him, no matter what he was.

Danny’s eyes were back to normal as he looked back at Constantine and Batman. “What you need to know is that I am not a demon or a monster. I am not controlling or manipulating anyone, though I probably could if I tried. I have Claimed Crime Alley as my haunt on Red Hood’s behalf because I am loyal to him. I have no interest in the rest of Gotham, or in the rest of the world for that matter. Stay out of our way and you have nothing to fear from me.” Danny splayed his hands in a peace gesture.

After a few moments of silence, with no more questions, Danny steps out of the circle and ducked back behind Jason. He could feel Danny press against his back, leaning against him a bit more heavily then he normally would, betraying how much this had taken out of him.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Jason said, crossing his arms and glaring at Batman.

“But-” Batman started, sounding startled. “No! Next time, maybe try meeting in good faith without any uninvited guests. If you pull any shit like this again there won’t be any more chances,” Jason warned before turning away, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders and ushering him out. Making a hand gesture to the waiting goons and gunmen as they left, signaling them to make sure Batman and Constantine left as Jason took Danny home. Not that it was needed, Constantine practically ran as soon as he got the chance.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #fanfiction #dead on main #Hyena!danny #batman #red hood #john constantine #danny is a little shit

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frogchiro · 10 months

Note

so sorry that u had to clear ur askbox because of some dickhead 😭😭😭😭😭😭 if it isnt too early to send a headcanon again... can i request some cow reader and wolf alejandro... because my weird little brain cannot resist inserting alejandro into situations.

also human cows are a real fetish called "hucow". just so anons out there are aware....

Wolf Alejandro is literally the worst :(( He may be very large and heavily build with strong muscles, a bit of chub and soft thick fur but he's crazy agile when he wants to be! And what he wants the most is getting to sneak into your private pen and get some of your milk and a taste of your pussy :((

He would sneak in during the night when he knows Price was already done with herding the unruly bulls back into their separate stable and is done doing a last check up on you for the night.

Imagine just rearranging the many pillows and blankets in your bed when you suddenly are spooked by the glowing eyes of the big bad wolf Ale :(( You knew the large male, you saw him prowling on the edge of the forest but it was during the day with everyone present and now you're cornered and left alone with an apex predator :((

Alejandro licked his lips and ran his tongue over his sharp canines as if reading for a meal before he prowled closer and closer to you until he could basically smell your delicious sweet scent and your milk♡

Please, just be a good girl and let him suckle a bit♡ You don't have babies yet and all that milk is supposed to go only to Price?? How selfish of him. Before long Ale has you on your back, his iron grip keeping you from wriggling too much as he suckles to his heart's content and your pretty moans only fueling his need for you♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas

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aliferous-ly · 1 month

Text

A ghost haunted season 10. Certainly not a malicious one, if a bit mischievous - and one had to keep a careful eye out to catch him.

Jevin heard him first, deep underground. He was hunting iron, early in the season, and he was having the worst luck. He even looked up where iron should be, to make sure the updates hadn't changed anything! Alas, the iron evaded him. Jevin might have to resort to begging and then jump straight to a farm.

And he kept hearing these crackly, faint snickers. At first he thought he'd been on a voice channel accidentally, but, no, his comm wasn't connected. Then, just to make sure, he disconnected it entirely - but the laughter prevailed. Jevin chalked it up to too many sleepless nights, and went to find an overachieving hermit already building an iron farm.

Stress heard him next, but as someone who heard murmuring monsters on a good day, she didn't give it a second thought. Clear as day she heard an, "oh, bugger." She thought, you and me both, monster, before going along with her day.

Then it was Xisuma, though he didn't hear anyone, he saw. It was a mere glimmer out of the corner of his eye. White hair, stout, pickaxe slung lovingly over a shoulder. When he looked back there was nothing. He resolved to run diagnostics on his helmet, because something was clearly haywire.

And in Joel's defense, he was both exhausted and brand new to hermitcraft. It wasn't like people had nametags on, they were a group of friends! So when an old man grumbled by, lost as could be within the shopping district, Joel furrowed his brows but ultimately was too tired to ruminate. He overheard the man saying something about shroomlights and called out, "Tango has the permit, but he doesn't have a shop up yet!"

The man startled, muttered something about "permits?" before scuttling off like a spooked horse. Joel shrugged. It was called hermitcraft, after all. There had to be loads of people he hadn't met yet.

Small instances added up. Scar fell asleep making a tree, hidden amongst the branches, and was spooked awake by the sound of a player dying. But when he checked his comm, nothing showed up. A dream, he thought uneasily.

I just need sleep, Tango thought.

Wow, someone's wearing a sick costume, Skizz thought. Too bad I'm too busy to go chat right now!

Who's messing with my hourglass now? Doc thought. Only, there wasn't anyone else on the server at the time. Probably an armor stand prank.

It all came to head when Hypno stumbled across his fifth stripmine in one mining session. He rolled his eyes, because of course Wels had created tunnels beneath Hypno's place just to be a nuisance. Except when he pointed it out to Wels, who was on call with Hypno but was busy caving, Wels expressed confusion.

"I've only made one or two strip mines. And they're not near you," Wels said.

Hypno saw a wisp of white hair turning a corner. "Haha, very funny, Wels. Come on out."

"I'm not joking?" Wels said in confusion. In the same beat he got the achievement for sneaking successfully past a shrieker for the first time and Hypno was far too high up to be near an ancient city.

"Maybe it's someone else?" Hypno murmured, checking who was online. Grian and Joel, who were having their own shenanigans blowing up the comms (it involved TNT, so the blowing up was quite literal). Impulse had just left. Etho, who could be a contender if Hypno didn't know he'd fallen asleep at the post office three hours ago. Plus, what sort of prank would this be, from Etho?

He explored the endless strip mines and got so lost that he had to dig his way up. When he mentioned the strangeness to Keralis, the man lit up and exclaimed that he'd found the same thing, how weird was that, huh?

Hypno investigated. If there was a bug in the world he'd need to know.

"You know, it might not be a bug," Cleo said meaningfully. They fidgeted with a tear in their clothes.

"What else would it be?" Hypno asked, mystified.

"Maybe it's a player. You know. Someone we never removed from the whitelist."

Cleo raised an eyebrow. It wasn't in their nature to beat around the bush, but at the same time they didn't want to act crass. Not for this.

Tentative realization trickled through Hypno. He nodded and abruptly left, unsure how to feel.

The information spread slowly through the rest of the server. Joe took to leaving boxes of torches and iron pickaxes about, and every so often would have to refill them. He didn't ask, but everyone swore they hadn't been stealing. Who would need an iron pickaxe at this point, anyway?

One night, Cub let off a slew of fireworks that were spherical and solid green. He heard a faint chuckle on the breeze, and raised a drink in quiet salute.

So, yes. A ghost haunted season 10. But ghost haunting had such a negative connotation, didn't it? The hermits, if they spoke about him at all, much preferred to call him the True Hermit who never left.

#mysnippets #hermitaday #tinfoilchef #added a read more even tho its not That long #i dont like having long posts on my dash lol #his videos are so chill and i love that u can hear his mouse clicking every time lol #also jev not finding iron etc is noncanon i made that shit up entirely

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itwasthereaminuteago · 3 months

Text

Of course I've heard the new Hozier EP...

|| Too Sweet ||

Frank Castle x reader

It's the blood wet on your skin that does it. His blood. It smears and taints you as you pull the knot tight and cut the final stitch free by the soft light of your bedside lamp.

He screws his eyes closed for a few seconds but when he opens them again you're still there, carefully cleaning the wound, wiping the blood away trying not to make it sting as if that kind of soft pain is remotely worse than what he's already endured on his grisley crusade. It's almost ridiculous, how gentle you are despite everything. How even in the early hours, you welcome him without question in to your home, your bed, your arms.

Somehow, you're able to lift the heavy weight of all his past and future and hold him in the clear simplicity of now.

You're putting away the bandages and needles, and now, as you apply the soothing salve of your kisses on his dirty, battle-worn skin, Frank can't cope. He doesn't deserve the honesty in your love. You give and he takes and yeah, he tries his damndest to give it back, but what he's got is charred, broken, and corrupted. It doesn't match. Its been so long since he's had something close to that, and he's only seeing this for the first time like some kind of fucked up epiphany.

He pinches the thick bridge of his nose as if waking from a nightmare, but it's the opposite.

Your eyes search for the problem, another thing for you to fix with your gentle touch and he can't stand it.

"Don't need to do this." He says, head shaking slowly from side to side as you meet him with a puzzled look.

"Frank, I'm not letting you run around bleeding out-"

"No, that's just it. You don't need this kinda shit from me. You've got your own life and things to care of. You don’t need this, dont need me."

He's acting like a spooked dog. You don't know where all this fear has come from so suddenly. You place your hand on his face, cupping his jaw and making him see that you mean what you say, not for one second letting him cower away and hide.

"What if I do need you, huh? You ever think about that? What I want?" You ask him.

Frank still struggles to meet your eyes. "I-I ain't no good, sweetheart... I've done things I ain't proud of, things you shouldn't even know about.'

"But I do know about them, and look, Frank, look! I'm still here with you."

"It ain't right though, layin' that kind of shit at your door."

To hell with that, you think.

"I know it ain't a competition, but I can be just as nasty. I can roll around in the dirt and get my hands dirty if I need to, you know that. C'mon Frank, I'm no princess."

"It ain't all that-"

"Then what? Do you want out?"

If he did, you definitely hadn't see this coming.

"No, 'course not."

"Then tell me."

He hesitates.

"You're too sweet f'me." He finally says quietly.

You can't help but laugh.

"Frank Castle, the day I'm too sweet for you will be the day I stop drinking coffee. And that's never just in case it isn't clear."

You catch the slight ghost of a smile picking up the edge of his mouth.

"I'm serious." You say.

You swing your leg over his, settling in his lap and hooking your arms around his neck. You'll make sure he gets the message alright.

"Let me show just how sweet I am..."

~ Please reblog if you liked my writing! Thank you 💕

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #ficlet

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toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth.

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

I’d kill for a part two of that strictly scandalous concept where Hangman fucks Mavericks daughter. Just him realizing what he’s done.

HAHAHAHA. I loved this one. Here ya go. Just because I felt this on my bones, baby. and I know I've used the callsign Iris for a blurb once but imma use it again because it suits and I like it. :)

********************

Jakes shitting himself. Imagine it though— he’s in the locker room, zipping up his flight suit when Pete Mitchell slaps his hand down on Jake’s shoulder from behind. It scares the living shit out of him when he realises just who it is standing behind him.

“You have a good weekend Hangman—?” Mav asked as Jake turned to face him, eyes wide like he’s just been caught red handed and balls deep him Mavericks daughter.

“Huh?” Jakes trying to formulate a sentence to reply with, but he’s breaking out in a sweat, remembering just how fucked he knew he was when you introduced yourself a Lieutenant Mitchell. Pete Maverick Mitchell’s daughter. “Uh, sorry repeat the question sir?”

“I asked if you had a good weekend?” Pete always thought Jake was a little weird, a little overzealous and egotistical—but right this minute he could be considered a flight risk. With sweat practically dripping down his face and he looks over Pete’s shoulder to see his saving grace. Rooster.

“Yeah, yeah nah it was average—“ If you’d call fucking his captains daughter in the back of his truck average. That was a felony around here, a career ender, an act worthy of being lined up and executed point blank. “Listen, great chatting to you, But I gotta go—“ Mav doesn’t get a chance to even register what’s going on before Jake is hightailing it over towards Bradley, dragging him around the corner of the locker room with a clenched jaw and panicked eyes.

“Dude! What’s your problem!” Bradley’s hissing at Jake’s grip on his bicep. Being pulled away into a more discreet part of the men’s locker room.

“I’m gonna lose my fucking job—“ Bradley Bradshaw has never seen Jake Seresin so panicked before. He’s usually in control of every situation, every aspect of his life. But this? Whatever had him spooked must have been major because Bradley could see straight into Jake's soul, and he was terrified.

“What exactly did you do?”

“Not a what.” Jake groaned, smashing his fist against Fanboys stupid Star Wars themes locker or whatever the hell TV show he geeked over. “More like a who—“ Bradley’s not computing what Jake is trying to tell him. Watching as Jake turns, presses his back against the lockers, and slides towards the ground in complete and utter defeat. He can kiss this promotion goodbye and he hasn’t even made it through a full day.

“Can you be a little more specific? It’s too early to be deciphering codes.” Rooster just stands there, arms crossed as Jake lets his head rest against the flimsy doors of the lockers he’s resting up against—legs spread out.

“IfuckedMavsdaughter—“ Jake mumbles quickly and under his breath. Bradley only just makes out what he said as his eyes are blowing out of his head in pure shock. No, no this is too perfect.

“I’m sorry you did who?” Rooster needs to hear Jake say it clearly and as precisely as possible. “You did not!”

“I didn’t know she was Mavs daughter Rooster! You didn’t fucking tell me who she was!” Jake was right on that front, but Bradley wasn’t in the loop, when did spilling three entire schooners of alcohol on someone equates to fucking someone. “God! Do you know what he’s gonna do to me when he finds out? He’s gonna make my life a living hell!” Jake groans as he hits the back of his head against the locker in an act of self-pity.

“You fucked Y/n Iris Mitchell, he’s gonna hang you, Hangman.” Bradley loved this probably a little more than he should have. He knew his uncle all too well and he knew how protective he was of the daughter he didn’t know he had until you showed up at his doorstep one random Saturday afternoon. “He’s gonna string you up by your big toe on the flagpole—“

“I should just quiet before he has a chance to—“ Jakes squinting his eyes shut tight, all he can see is you riding him like you had nothing to lose in the back of his truck. He can feel your around him still, the tightest pussy he’s ever fucked. So warm and perfect and—young. Fuck, he should have know this would have eventually. “I’m a deadman walking.”

“Does she know who you are?” Bradley’s asking as he finally takes a knee and comes to sit against the lockers with his clearly distressed wingman. “Did you tell her you’re most likely her instructor? Her Lieutenant Commander?”

“Nope—“ Jake pops the P. “I was just gonna see how long I could go without running into her, avoid her at all costs.”

“Yeah something tells me that’s not gonna work.” Bradley chuckles, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “But good luck man, honestly I’m rooting for you.” Rooster bumps his shoulder against Jakes as he stands. Looking down at the aviator having a clear existential crisis. “Stop sticking your dick into anything that moves at the Hard Deck—I’m honestly shocked something like this hasn’t happened sooner.”

“Can you just promise me that if I go missing you’ll tell the cops it was Mav?” Jake is as serious as he ever has been as he looks up at Rooster. “This is partly your fault to you big flightless bird—if I had been told, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near her!” But all Bradley can do is laugh at Jake’s predicament.

“Sure thing pal, but she told you, you could have stopped and dealt with the blue balls—but I’m guessing the night didn’t end in the truck and you're big enough and ugly enough to deal with the consequences of your own actions.” Bradley feels like this whole situation is an early birth present. He’s beaming, smug even. Of course Jake fucked Mavs daughter, of course he did! “I’ll see you out there.”

“You're a bad friend!” Jakes Shouting out as Bradley rounds the corner, he’s laughing as he shakes his head and exits the locker room only to run into you in the hall. Seeing an opportunity he just can’t resist passing up.

“Iris!” Bradley cooed, grabbing your attention as he jogs up beside you from behind, slinging a shoulder around you. “How’s induction day going so far?”

“I just came out of a lecture about weapons systems malfunctions with Lieutenant Commander Floyd.” You explained, pretty tickled pink with excitement that you were at TopGun. Not a lot of women got to experience such a feat. “He’s pretty intelligent.”

“Bobs great—“ Bradley had known you since you were about sixteen, but you weren’t all that close for two people who’d be considered non-biological siblings. “Hey listen, I heard you left the Hard Deck with Hangman the other night.”

“Who’s Hangman?” You asked as you stopped in your tracks. “And how do you know I left with som—“ All things considered, when Jake had told you that if Hawaiian shirts were what you were into, you should be talking to Bradley, you could have said that you saw him more like a brother than anything else. But you didn’t, you played along and said that guys with moustaches weren't your type. “Oh—no please Rooster I didn’t.” Bradley could see the look of realisation creeping across your face. You’d fucked one of your TopGun instructors, hadn't you? “No—please it’s April fools isn’t it?”

“It’s October Iris—“ Bradley smirked, his moustache working to devour his upper lip entirely as he does. “Mavs gonna kill him—“

“Fuck what Mavs gonna do to him Bradshaw! I’m gonna get kicked out of Miramar if the admirals find out what I’ve done!” You're a mess, Bradley chuckles, hey maybe you and Jake had a few things in common. Your inability to cope during existential crises being one of them. “This ain’t happening! I need to talk to him, where is he?”

“He’s probably still writing his resignation on the locker room flo—“ Before Bradley can finish your sentence, he’s watching as you make a b-line directly for the locker room he’d just come out of.

On the hunt for Lieutenant Commander Jake ‘Deadman’ Seresin.

#jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman imagine

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cordeliawhohung · 9 months

Text

Death of Me - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - Part six of "soft spot"

Simon returns back from deployment. Normally he comes home carrying nothing but exhaustion, but this time he brings back something that will be the death of him.

warnings: none!! very soft! simon is hiding something!! eventual smut in the later part!

wc: 4.7k

A pristine creme envelope sat in the large expanse of Simon’s hands, and he couldn't help but look down at it with a hint of disdain.

He wasn’t the only person with one, either. Every single member of Task Force 141 had that terribly perfect letter, including their captain, who stood at the front of the room waving it around like it was a piece of evidence. It was unmarked, unaddressed, but each and every one of them knew exactly what lay inside.

“Mandatory,” Price spoke up, his tone dripping with a bored sort of authority. He, too, appeared to be a bit irritated by the contents of the letter.

If they were school aged boys, a series of groans would have left their lips, but they were soldiers. Not a single sound of annoyance left them, though their eyes betrayed their feelings.

“I won’t bore you with the details,” Price continued as he tossed his envelope onto the table. It slid across the synthetic wood with a soft scratch, but Simon didn’t pay it any attention. “Everything you need to know is inside. Make sure you’re prepared. Can’t afford to make a fool of ourselves.”

Of course they couldn’t. Not on something as high profile as that. Still… Task Force 141? For something like that? It had to be a joke, certainly. But it wasn’t. The envelope was in his hands. His eyes had scanned the words. It wasn’t a joke, and he wanted nothing more than to crumple that stupid piece of paper and toss it into the bin.

“For now, go home. Get some rest,” Price finished before squarely crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re going to need it.”

That was a fucking understatement.

Still, Simon wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if his captain was excusing him to go home, to go back to you, then he wasn’t going to stall any longer. He was the first to rise from the table, not much to anyone’s surprise. If there was no more talk or questions, he was never one to stick around. But all eyes flickered over to him, almost as if they could sense the anticipation rolling off his shoulders in waves.

That feeling within him persisted even after he had left the room, hands shoving deep into his pocket and crushing the envelope along with it. He entered the hallway where various bodies scurried around the building, none of whom paid attention to him at all as he made a beeline for the exit.

All he had thought about the last few weeks while he was gone was you. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for how much he would miss you. Sure, he would be concerned for you in the same way he had ever since you started tearing off the plates of the armor he had spent so much time encasing his body with. But once he moved in with you, it was an entirely different feeling being ripped away from you. Sleeping on the hard ground he had gotten used to rather than next to your body. Eating food out of his shitty ORPs instead of cooking you breakfast in the morning where you would dote over him in the kitchen. He had gotten used to the softness of you, and it drove him mad how terribly he craved it.

It felt like he was dying.

“L.T! Wait up!”

Every muscle in Simon’s body tensed up and he found himself turning around more aggressively than he intended. Maybe it was the fatigue. They had just gotten back to base early that morning, after all, and the quick nap he took in the chair of his office before Price’s debriefing was only enough to clear his mind, not his nerves. Once he caught sight of Soap, he tried his best to relax, but he had the nagging feeling that he accidentally shot the man a glare instead.

“You’re… telling Spook about this, right?” Soap asked cautiously, afraid to poke at the beast too much.

At first, the nickname Soap coined for you was rather annoying. Simon found himself holding back a snarky comment every time the man tried to tease him with it, but the more that he thought about it, the more he became somewhat partial to it. Not that he would ever share that information with either you or Soap. Still, the man never gave Soap exactly what he wanted; that confirmation that you existed. Keeping you hidden, keeping you safe was the only thing he cared about.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Johnny,” Simon said gruffly, his voice not having as much of an edge to it as he would have liked.

“I’m being serious,” Soap said. And really, he was. It was the same type of hardness Soap carried when they were out in the field. “I’m sure she’ll want to know about this.”

Simon laughed in the way where it was just a violent puff of air from his nose as he shook his head. The kid was stubborn, he’d give him that. They had caused a bottleneck in the flow of traffic in the hallway, but neither of them seemed to care as they stared at one another, letting any passerby sneak past if they needed to.

“We’re not having this conversation,” he said simply.

And they never would. Simon had made that decision long ago. Even though they were comrades, even though they bantered well enough on the field, even though they could be considered friends, brothers even, that conversation would never exist. The words Soap wanted out of him would never leave his lips. Not if he could help it.

So he turned away and continued walking down the hallway, eyes focused heavily on the exit that would set him free, that would take him home to you. All the while, Soap continued standing there as if his feet were stuck. He watched as Simon left, and his eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to the corner of the handkerchief sticking out of his left back pocket.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was never a surprise when Simon returned home, as he was shockingly good at communicating, despite what one might think. Maybe you shouldn’t have been all that surprised, as that sort of thing was important as a soldier. Be it a text, or on occasion, even a call, you were always made aware of his plans, so when you arrived home after work and you saw his boots by the door, you weren’t taken aback, but you were certainly giddy.

Your shoes came tumbling off your feet as you hurriedly kicked them away, the worn soles hitting the wall with a thud where your bag followed shortly after it. The soft pitter patter of your feet bounced off the confined walls of the hallway as you cautiously entered your bedroom.

Simon slept on his back with an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight that seeped through the window. It would have been easier to just close the curtains, but you chalked it up to him being exhausted. He didn’t wear a shirt, so his torso was exposed, but had on a pair of dark sweatpants to cover his lower half. Silvery scars glinted slightly against the pale of his skin, and you took notice of a deep bruise on his arm, like he had used himself as a battering ram while he was deployed (which he probably did).

Grinning at the sight of him, you began to shed your unneeded layers. A blazer, your socks, anything that was even remotely uncomfortable. Once you were finished, you carefully began to crawl into bed where the mattress sunk underneath the weight of your hands and knees, which was enough to stir Simon out of his slumber. His arm raised off of his face as you settled your back against the headboard, sitting next to him. Soft remnants of his eye black lined the very corner of his eyes in the crevices he couldn’t quite wash off in the shower, giving him the appearance of more intense exhaustion.

“Hey, handsome,” you greeted softly as you lifted a hand to comb through his hair. He normally liked to keep it shorter, but whenever he was gone on missions he always returned with it being a tad longer than usual, which you always took joy in playing with.

He only answered you with a simple grunt as he began to shift. Before you knew it, Simon laid in your lap, trapping your legs underneath his body as his head rested on your thighs. His hands wrapped around the underside of your thighs where he gave them a firm squeeze before he fully relaxed once more.

Your breath caught in your throat as your hand returned to rest on his head. It was oddly comfortable, in a way. He positioned himself perfectly so that he wasn’t putting any pressure on your knees, and he used your thighs like they were pillows. It was so… innocent. God, you wanted nothing more than to just smother him in a hug, but instead you settled for the soft strands of his hair between your fingers.

“I missed you too,” you chuckled, which only made him give your legs another squeeze as he settled further into your touch.

With him on his stomach, you had a full view of his back; not that you had never seen his bare back before, but you hadn’t exactly studied it, either. There were a few scars, some of which mirrored the ones on his front, like something had punctured all the way through him. Then there was the muscle, the dip of his spine, the tendons pulling underneath his skin as they flexed to hold you tight.

Something stirred within you at the sight of him like that. Blood seared through your veins, your heart lurched as if trying to break free from your chest and embrace him itself. Even after all that time you two had spent with one another you could never get enough of him. Not his shitty jokes or his cold exterior. Especially not the way he looked at you, the way he held you.

But he was tired, that much was obvious. You wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t gotten a single night of good rest the entire time he was away. So you let him rest in the comfort of your lap as your fingers ran through his hair.

It wasn’t until the next day that you were really able to talk to Simon. Sleep (especially sleep that was done next to you) was just what he needed to reset his mind and energy, and by the next morning he was a refreshed man. Breakfast on the table, fresh tea on the counter, and a good morning kiss. He almost seemed more lovely than normal, which you weren’t opposed to at all. You chalked it up to him missing you on his mission and you reveled in that softness.

But things got different after his short weekend at home. Simon would go on base to do whatever it is officers of the military did, and every time he would come home he seemed more exhausted than normal. Something started to wear at him, chipping pieces of him away bit by bit until he seemed like he would shatter. Of course he never took these feelings out on you. He never even complained of being tired or having a long day. Most of what you picked up on were little hints. Extra stress in his shoulders, a slight distractedness to his tone, misremembering something. You wanted to ask him about it, but it was work, something he never talked about.

Never talked about. Never ever. Where you would rant about an annoying patron at work, Simon would listen. Where you would talk about something funny one of your co-workers did, Simon would listen. And listen and listen but never, ever would he talk. Never ever would he relate your story to one of his own.

And you knew it was necessary, in a way. Maybe you didn’t want to know every single detail about his job. You certainly could do without any mention of the death and gore that war often brought with it. But what about the small stories? The happy ones? Did he have a teammate who told him a funny joke? Maybe something interesting happened on base? And he could at least attempt to explain the miscellaneous scrapes, bruises and wounds he often came home with, even if just by giving vague information.

In short, you were starting to feel a little detached from Simon, in a way. There was something blocking you from that average, everyday conversation. But it was silly of you to think that. That’s just the way Simon was. Quiet and battle hardened. Maybe he had always been that way. How was he supposed to be anything different when that’s all he had known?

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Simon’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you paused halfway through taking a bite of the sandwiches the two of you had made for lunch that day. You pulled the food away from your lips and you looked up at him with narrowing brows.

“Huh?” you spoke up.

It was difficult for you to read his gaze, as it normally was. In a way, it was almost like he was trying to study you, as he didn’t leave a single inch of your face unassessed. The dark color of his eyes brightened only slightly from the sunlight pouring in through the window next to you, and you almost found yourself losing track of your thoughts again by that view alone.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

That was the big drawback to talking all the time. Whenever you fell quiet, it was always painfully obvious. Brushing it off, you offered him a quick smile before raising the sandwich to your lips again.

“Figured I’d give you a day off from my yapping,” you excused before taking another bite.

He hummed but stayed still for a moment as you continued eating. His eyes glanced down at the table and then back to you before following your lead. “I like it when you talk,” he admitted.

A sour chuckle rumbled in your throat only to be muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallowed, then said, “I think you’re the only one who does.”

Silence. The painfully awkward kind. The kind that you didn’t often share with Simon. You found yourself intensely focusing on your sandwich more than was considered normal. Really, you were afraid that if you talked anymore than you had been, you would find yourself blurting out a bunch of questions at him. The countless ones that had been swimming in your mind since he had returned back from overseas a few weeks ago.

Your only saving grace was the distraction that pulled up outside your apartment. A bright red van bearing the Royal Mail’s insignia parked in front of the mail boxes, making itself painfully obvious against the dull grey color of the streets. A worker exited the vehicle before promptly filling the boxes with the corresponding mail. Simon followed your gaze, and the two of you watched the poor postal carrier like curious dogs ready to chase them down the street.

They left by the time you were finished with your sandwich, and you promptly stood up from your seat, taking yours and Simon’s plate from the table. He watched you with careful eyes as you tossed the plates into the dishwasher.

“I’m going to check on the mail,” you said as you dried your hands off on one of the kitchen towels.

Summer was almost in full swing, and its warmth was one of the first things to greet you when you stepped foot outside. That was one of the better things about London; the summers were usually fairly mild, save for when a heatwave brought blistering temperatures along with it. Though, the pollution only seemed to create a stench that radiated deep from the center of the city. You tried to avoid that as best as you could whenever you didn’t have to work.

You bounded up to the mailboxes like a dog after a bone, or a child excited to open a present. Even with all your time spent as an adult you got excited for mail, despite the fact a majority of it was either bills or some sort of promotional content. The mail you got for that day was rather pathetic. A few bills, some window repair company promo (which you were half tempted to tell your landlords about, as that damned window in the living room was still drafty), and a simple creme envelope were all that were inside.

Out of all the mail you got that day, that simple envelope was the most peculiar. There was no return address, or any indication of who it could be from, and even though it had your address, there was no name linked to it. A small but deep part of you began to panic slightly, concerned that it might have been something Eric sent you, but you knew he wouldn’t have put in enough effort to have the address physically printed on it, or pay for the postage, for that matter.

Still, the very moment you made it back into the apartment, you tossed the other bits of mail on the counter and curiously ripped into that unmarked letter. Within an instant, you realized that this letter was not meant for you. The coat of arms, that formal military greeting, and fancy wording made it painfully obvious it was meant for Simon. But your eyes caught sight of the first sentence, and you quickly realized you couldn’t stop your curiosity from getting the better of you.

“Anything good?” Simon asked, nearly causing you to jump. You had been so engrossed in the letter that you had almost forgotten that he sat at the table in the small dining room just mere feet away from you.

Your eyes found him for a short moment before going back to the paper that sat in your hands. Every word you glanced over burnt into the back of your mind, and you felt your throat going a little dry, making your voice hoarse when you spoke to him.

“You were invited to a ball?”

Not much changed about Simon when you asked him that question, except for the look in his eyes. The way they softened in an anticipatory apology made your teeth sink into your lip, and you held the letter out for him to take. He didn't even look at the letter when he stood to his feet, and he carefully closed the gap between the two of you before taking the paper and setting it on the counter with the mail you had discarded.

“Are you going?” you then asked him.

Simon leaned against the counter with his hands resting behind him. It was obvious that he hadn’t intended on telling you about the event. That goddamn military ball. For a majority of his career, he had managed to slip out of them for one reason or another. But that time was a little different. The guest of honor had requested for Task Force 141 specifically after they had inadvertently saved some of their assets on a previous mission. A little hard to get out of something like that, even for the infamous Ghost.

“Have to,” he admitted softly as his eyes drank in the features of your face.

You nodded in understanding, averting your gaze to look at the pile of papers next to you instead. “It… mentioned something about a plus one. But it’s in a week and you haven’t mentioned it to me at all.”

There were so many words pushing against your lips, trying to flood forth to fill the tight space between you and Simon. It was difficult learning to speak your mind again. Learning how to explain your feelings without the fear of being reprimanded for it was agonizing, yet you forced yourself to push through it anyway.

“Are you trying to hide me?” you finally asked.

Simon’s gaze softened, and you stood there and watched as he shifted his weight slightly. Throughout your time together, you hadn’t ever had an argument before, if it could even be called that, anyway. It wasn’t the usual screaming matches you had grown accustomed to, but it still caused that awkward tension to grow in your chest.

“I don’t want to involve you with my work,” Simon explained simply. He gave you the truth, plain and simple. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“I understand that, but Simon, this is a ball. A formal event. I hardly doubt there will be any terrorists there for you to fight,” you retorted with an awkward laugh.

Not even Simon could deny the fact that you were right. It was a simple event, something that would be done and over with after a few hours. But how was he supposed to explain that bringing you there would be like advertising the one thing that could bring him to his knees; his achilles heel? He didn’t care about being a strong man, or someone to be feared, but he did care about you. The last thing he wanted to do was get you mixed up in his work, be it formal events, his teammates, anything.

But how was he supposed to say no when you looked up at him like that? Eyes pleading for him to give in, to take the risk, to enjoy the consequences for once? Because the truth was, he wanted nothing more in the entire world than to show you off, to parade you around and shout to the sky. To say look at her. Look at her and fear her because she is the only thing in this world that I will bend to.

“You really want to go?” he asked stiffly. It was obvious he still wasn’t fully onboard with the idea. You weren’t exactly sure if he ever would be with something like that, yet he tried anyway.

“Of course I want to go,” you responded a bit more winded than you had anticipated.

He should say no. In fact, he should have shut the conversation down a long time ago. He was about to break the very deal he made to himself when he first started seeing you; don’t get her involved. Maybe it was too late for that. You had entangled yourself with every fiber of his being, every thought that crossed his mind. You were nothing but poison, and he would gladly drink the toxin from your lips just to feel you resuscitate him.

It was stupid, and he knew it. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh before focusing back on you. “You got a dress?”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The last place Simon fucking Riley belonged was a dress shop. Surrounded by soft chiffon and bright silk, he sat on a pristine white couch that was much too small for someone of his stature, and he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was the dark black ink stain in a building that housed mostly white. It was obvious that the shop made most of its money off of weddings, as a majority of the dresses that lined the walls and mannequins donned ivory dresses with long trains and sparkly veils. The sight of it made his stomach churn, and he couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt so uncomfortable.

Even though the only thing he wanted to do was run out of the store and leave you to your own devices, he stayed on that couch, trying his best not to stare at the large wall of mirrors in front of him. A majority of his time there was spent waiting for you to change in and out of dresses. You had tried on everything from large poofy ball gowns to long sleeved, slim fitting evening dresses. None seemed to speak to you, as you would stand in front of the mirror and instantly start to pick apart the details. Most of which he agreed with you on, as he didn’t really understand the high end fashion of dresses either.

However, there was one dress that he was a bit bummed that you didn’t choose. It was a beautiful dark red that washed down your legs in perfect silk. Your collarbones were on display with the lack of straps, and he found he actually liked the embellishments on the bodice. Yet you complained that you were going to have to adjust the dress from falling off your chest the entire night, and so back on the rack it went.

So he waited. And waited.

Until he heard the familiar chatting between you and the assistant as you exited the dressing room for what he prayed was the final time. Perhaps it might be a blessing in disguise. If you can’t find a dress to wear for the event, then maybe you’d stay home, and he’d be able to keep you hidden like he promised himself he would.

When you came into full view, all of those thoughts vanished from his brain, and his mind went blank. A black evening gown clung to your body, and the skirt swayed hypnotically as you walked to stand in front of the mirrors. Simon was at an utter loss for words as he took in the features. Beautiful chiffon layers for the skirt that danced around your legs, fabric that molded to your waist perfectly, a beautiful sweetheart neckline that coupled alluringly with the off-the-shoulder sleeves that clung to your arms.

He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that made his mind begin to stray. Maybe it was the color? Had you ever worn so much black around him before? Or maybe it was the way you looked so elegant; but in the way a panther is elegant in pouncing before she kills her prey.

“What do we think about this one?” the assistant asked while she helped to smooth the back of the skirt.

“This one feels much more secure,” you noted as you messed with the neckline some. “It also feels very… light? Like, flowy. Easy to move in without having to worry about tripping on something.”

The assistant nodded as she offered you a smile in the mirror. “Yes, the chiffon and silk mix makes this perfect to wear in warm environments as well. Even with the dark color you shouldn’t expect to be sweating all that much.”

You nodded your head in response to her as you turned your attention back to the dress. Pretty. That’s the only word that you felt like could describe it. You felt pretty. Maybe even a little confident. And you adored the way that it accentuated the necklace that you had worn pretty much every day since Simon had first gifted it to you.

“Simon,” you called as you turned around. “What do you…”

The words were lost on the tip of your tongue as you faced Simon. He hadn’t moved a single inch and yet his expression changed so much. Arms sprawled out along the back of the couch, he leaned back as he admired you. His dark eyes lingered on the skirt of the dress for a moment as its swaying movement settled, but then they began to climb up your body. He drank up the curve of your hips, the exposed skin of your shoulders, the movement of your chest with your breathing. You couldn’t recall a time Simon had looked at you like that; or, not in public, at least.

A grin formed on your lips and you couldn’t help but sway side to side with a childish sort of excitement. That was all the confirmation you needed from him, and you quickly turned back to the assistant.

“This is it. This is the one.”

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss

find my tag list here

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 2] Daycare

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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On Sundays you tend to sleep in, however, this time you wake up very early in the morning, and the first thing you do is go to the pharmacy to get a morning-after pill. You don’t worry too much about getting pregnant since when you were trying to conceive with your husband, you never succeeded. Still, you’d rather be safe than sorry even if you get weird looks from the cashier.

And for the rest of the day, you run some errands, going to places that have air conditioning so you’re not so hot. But around four you have no more errands to run, in fact, you have to do some chores at home which you’re dreading. One of them being laundry. You have to get your clothes and go to the laundromat that isn’t even a five minute walk from your apartment, but it’s way too hot to walk out with a laundry basket. You don’t need any more exercise for the day, but that doesn’t stop the fact clothes are piling up, and tomorrow is your first day of work so you need clean appropriate clothes.

So you’re exiting your apartment, holding your laundry basket with one hand, holding it against your hip while your free hand locks the door shut. When you finally get it shut, you turn and find your neighbor who’s opening the door to his apartment. You aren’t sure whether to address him or ignore him. Sure, you’re picking up his son tomorrow and taking him to daycare, but maybe he doesn’t want you to say anything to him today, things would be too awkward.

You look down at the child that tries to hide behind his father when he spots you. Sure, you bought him ice cream, but he still doesn’t know you. You still smile at him, seeing that he’s peeking to get a glance of you.

“Hey…” Toji awkwardly speaks up. Usually he doesn’t have to speak to the woman after a one-night-stand, but he doesn’t have that liberty here for many reasons. First and foremost, you’re his neighbor. Secondly, you’ll be taking his son to daycare and giving him a discount. He can’t simply ignore you, quite the opposite, he has to make sure you’re happy with him. He notices the laundry basket and asks, “Do you need help with that?”

“You’ve been working, it’s fine. Thank you.” You smile at him and before you can walk away, minding your business, he speaks again.

“It’s fine. I can drive you to the laundromat.” He offers, and you take a moment to think about it. But you see the boy who’s clearly hiding from you, and you decide it’s best to decline the offer. Tomorrow will be a big day for him, so it’s best for him to rest and whatnot before tomorrow.

“It’s fine. It’s not too far from here. Plus, Megumi probably wants to be home.” You tell him, giving him a weak smile before walking away. You walk away, not giving him a chance to say anything else. You come to regret declining his offer when you feel the hot sun on you, and you’re sweating once again while walking to the place.

Halfway through the walk, you hear honking which spooks you, causing you to jump up a little. You turn around to see a black sports car, although it looks a bit old. You’re definitely surprised as the car slowly comes to a stop. The window rolls down and you’re even more astonished to find your neighbor inside. The car is definitely too expensive to be owned by him, but then again he’s a mechanic, he probably was able to buy a beat up car and then fix it.

“Let me take you there.” Toji says, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed even though you’re certainly glad that he’s here. You roll your eyes to add to the act before opening the backseat door. You put your laundry basket down, waving at Megumi who sits in his backseat on the other side. You shut the door then walk to the passenger’s seat, opening the door and entering the car. You put on the seatbelt, although it seems unnecessary since within a minute you’re parked in front of the place.

“Thank you, Fushiguro.” You tell him, and you look at Megumi, waving at him, “And thank you, Megumi.”

“No problem.” Toji responds, and you open the door and exit the car, then open the backseat door to grab your laundry basket. While Toji looks back at his son through the rearview mirror. “What do you say, Megumi?”

“You’re welcome.” Megumi mutters, crossing his tiny arms. You chuckle before shutting the backseat door. You wave at Toji as you walk away, smiling at him.

You certainly weren’t expecting that. Additionally, you weren’t expecting for him to pick you up two hours later. Although you didn’t talk much, you certainly appreciated the gesture.

At five in the morning you’re knocking on Toji’s door. You patiently wait outside the door for around five minutes before you knock again, much harshly this time. In two minutes the door opens, and you see your shirtless neighbor with messy bed hair and eyes that can barely stay open. He yawns before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick up Megumi.” You inform him and his eyes quickly shoot open. He looks at the clock and then raises a brow. It’s way too early. “At five in the morning?” He questions and you nod in response. Toji ends up sighing, walking back inside to wake up the sleeping child. While he does so, Toji yells, “You can come in!”

You step into the place, and you look around. It’s nice and cool, that’s what you like. What you don’t like is that even in the darkness you can tell it’s messy. You try not to judge, instead you try to focus on Toji, who you hear is saying, “C’mon, buddy. It’s time to wake up.”

You’re lucky you decided to come early, because you knew this would happen. Although it is your fault for not telling Toji that you obviously have to leave early since you’re working there, not just dropping off a kid.

“Megumi, c’mon.” Toji keeps trying to wake up the kid, until he finally sits up. Toji is surprised to see that it’s so difficult for the kid to wake up when every morning he’s wide awake around this time. Ready to annoy the shit out of Toji– Oh but Toji loves that kid more than anything and anyone in the whole wide world. “Sorry, this is gonna take a while. I’ll drive you two there.”

“No worries, I came early because I forgot to tell you the time.” You tell him. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to rush so much, still he’s groggy because he had to wake up so early. He walks with Megumi to the bathroom, and you decide to turn on the light. You can even see more mess than before, but you know Toji is a single father, or at least that’s what it seems to be.

You put your hands in your pockets as you look around the place. Looking at the futons that are in the place, right next to each other. The little dresser that is overloaded with clothes, the top of it dusty. There’s a singular picture frame at the top, but you stand too far away to be able to tell what the photo is.

You’re about to pull out your phone, but Toji walks out of the bathroom, holding Megumi’s hand. “What do you want for breakfast? Cereal?”

“Yes.” Megumi responds, watching as his father looks through the drawers to pick out an outfit for his first day.

“Do you want me to prepare that for him?” You ask Toji, in a rush. You don’t have all day, plus it’s your first day. You can’t show up late today of all days.

“Yes, please.” He responds, and you look for the box of cereal. Once you have it, you put it down on the counter then look for a bowl. Looking for a bowl is much harder than you imagined because every time you open up a cabinet, almost every plate falls on you. But you finally get a blue bowl, and you put it down. You serve the cereal, before opening the fridge and getting the milk. You hear Toji yelling at Megumi while you pour the milk.

“You know how to put on pants! Stop being so difficult today.” You hear the child complain at his father’s words, and you want to laugh but at the same time you really don’t like the way Toji talks to his child. You’re not going to tell him how to parent, after all, you don’t have any kids therefore your opinion is invalid. “Okay, go eat breakfast.”

Toji clearly gives up because when the child walks over to get his breakfast with his shirt and his diapers, which reminds you, “Do you have a little backpack for him?”

“Oh yeah. I’m still potty training him so–” Toji begins to look for the backpack that has his stuff. An extra change of clothes, diapers and some snacks for the kid. “He’s learning but occasionally he has accidents.”

“Thank you.” Megumi mutters as he takes the bowl from you. He walks back to his futon to take a seat and eat his food.

“I should probably start making his food.” Toji says, walking to the kitchen.

“You should probably start getting ready if you are dropping us off. They give him food.” You inform him.

“They’re not expecting him though, are they?” Toji questions, and you’re still staring because he’s still shirtless. Your face is getting warm, and you look away.

“I emailed them on Saturday night after you left.” You tell him, and the man’s face slowly turns pink. He clears his throat before a weak thank you leaves his lips. “It’s so soon but they said they’d make a spot for him.”

“Okay, thank you.” Toji responds. He still walks to the kitchen to make lunch for his son, making sure he has something just in case Megumi doesn’t like the food offered to him. You won’t bother though. “You can take a seat… Anywhere you’d like.”

“Thank you.” You respond, however, you remain standing. You make sure you don’t stand in Toji’s way since there isn’t much space for him to walk. Your eyes wander, unsure of what to do, until you think to ask, “When do you have to go to work?”

“Eight.” He answers. He still has some time for him to kill, so it’s likely he’ll drop you off then come back to sleep some more. He also has the chance to do some chores so the place isn’t all that messy. Although he probably doesn’t care about it. You don’t care anyway, the place is liveable and not a hazard to Megumi, the place is bound to be somewhat disorganized considering Megumi’s age and the fact Toji lives alone taking care of a toddler full time. “I’m not slowing you down, am I?”

“I think we’ll be fine. Although it’d be nice if you did hurry up.” You reply, and he works faster than before. You’re doing him a favor and he can’t repay you by making you late to your first day of work.

Within ten minutes, everything is ready, except Megumi. He finished eating his breakfast, but he’s still only wearing his diaper. You both know that Megumi can’t just exit the place like this, but Toji is too tired to put up a fight with the child. You walk over to the child and crouch down so you’re face-to-face.

“Hey, Megumi. I know you don’t know me, but we’re going to be spending some time together.” You begin, unsure of how to start it off. You’re an expert at bribing kids, but it seems that after some time off you’ve lost your magic. “We’re going to go somewhere fun, so you need to put on your pants.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him though. You look at Toji and then at Megumi before it finally comes to you, “You like chocolate don’t you?”

“Yes.” He mutters, slowly nodding his head.

“Well, don’t tell your daddy but… If you put on your pants, I’ll give you some chocolate.” You tell him, and he thinks about it for a second before deciding that what you’ve offered is a great deal. So Megumi puts on his pants, and you’re all finally ready to leave to go to the daycare.

Toji drives you to the place, parking outside to be able to drop off his son. You enter the place and the woman at the front desk immediately recognizes you, and then she looks at Toji, and at little Megumi. The woman smiles, “So nice to see you here. I knew you’d get the job.”

“So nice to see you too.” You respond with a smile. She then smiles at Toji and at Megumi.

“You must be Mr. Nanami and the youngest Nanami.” She says, making Toji furrow his eyebrows because you didn’t introduce yourself as Nanami. You feel your face get warm and you clear your throat.

“Toji is my ex-husband. He’s Mr. Fushiguro.” You inform her, and she hums and slowly nods in response. Toji has questions, but he can’t ask them right now. Instead he crouches down and kisses the top of his son’s forehead.

“I’ll pick you up later, okay? You’re going to have so much fun, Megumi. Stay on your best behavior, buddy.” Toji tells the kid, who’s a bit confused as to what this is. If anything bad happens, Megumi is blaming you since you’re with him and his father right now. Toji makes sure to give Megumi a very tight hug, leaving the child nearly breathless. Toji stands up, giving you a weak smile and waving at you before he begins to exit the building. Megumi begins to follow him, but you stop him, grabbing Megumi’s backpack to hold him back.

“Megumi, your daddy will come pick you up later.” You tell him, and Megumi looks back at you, and then back at his father who gets smaller and smaller with every step he takes. Megumi’s bottom lip quivers, and his eyes become watery. The lady at the front desk is probably staring you down, wondering why your son is crying for his dad. “I know you love him, honey, but he has to go to work. He’ll pick you up later. You’ll be able to play with other kids your age for the whole day.”

“Daddy!” He yells, extending his arms and opening and closing his fists. You feel the sweat running down your forehead. You turn your face to look at the front desk lady, a sheepish smile on your face,

“He’s very attached to his father.”

At six, Toji is inside the building, ready to pick up his son. You’re both ready to leave, and Megumi goes running to his father when he sees the man. The whole day, Megumi sat in a corner, refusing to socialize with anyone else. He stopped crying quickly, but he shut himself off. Toji’s eyes light up when he sees his son, and he kneels down to receive his son’s warm hug.

“I missed you, buddy. How was your day?” Toji asks, picking up his son from the floor and beginning to carry him to the car. You wave at the lady in the front desk before you begin to follow behind them. You hear Megumi say,

“I don’t wanna come back, daddy.” Toji laughs. You want to laugh as well, although you’re a bit worried. But you can see that he’s clearly attached to his father, so it’s only a matter of time for Megumi to get used to it. He’ll get a new friend and suddenly he’ll be so excited to come to daycare, even if he is separated from his father.

“Why not? I’m sure everyone was nice. Isn’t that right, Ms. Nanami?” Toji turns to look at you. He’s been thinking about why he was referred to as Mr. Nanami, and felt like lying about your name is something so absurd. You feel your face get warm and you clear your throat before telling him.

“Everyone was very nice.” You answer. Toji begins to put Megumi in his carseat, and you wait outside the car. When he shuts the backseat door and you speak, “Fushiguro… Please don’t refer to me as Nanami.”

“Why–” He begins but stops himself. He shakes his head before he opens the driver’s side door. You get into the car as well. He turns the car on and looks at his son through the rearview mirror and asks, “So tell me more about your day.”

There wasn’t much for Megumi to say. He just sat in the corner, at least that’s what you heard. You were placed with children that are even younger than Megumi because that’s where they needed the extra help, and of course you can’t ask to be transferred to another age group just yet. They’re observing you since you’re new to the job, they’ll obviously deny a request so soon, you just hope that a teacher wants to switch soon enough.

“Give it a week and he’ll have more friends than you.” You joke, and it makes Toji laugh. He sure can’t wait till his little boy boasts about his new friends. “He’s just really attached to you. He was missing you all day which didn’t let him socialize.”

“Awe, is that true?” Toji asks, and he sees Megumi’s arms are crossed. He loves his father, but he won’t admit it so easily. Toji can’t help but laugh at the reaction. “I love you, stinky. I missed you all day too.”

After a very long day, you lay down in a hot room, trying to fall asleep. By this weekend you’re supposed to finally have air conditioning, and that doesn’t feel close enough. By the time you get the air conditioning installed, you doubt you’ll need it. After this week, the weather will cool down as October approaches.

You’re so tired, yet the sweat that runs down your body doesn’t allow you to fall asleep. You nearly jump up from your bed when you hear a knock on your door. You immediately think of Toji, and you’re proven right when you open the door. No other neighbor has attempted to introduce themselves, so you doubt that they will any time soon.

“Hey, Fushiguro.” You smile at him, and he looks you up and down. The same way he did on Saturday. But this time he knows better because the last thing he wants is to begin a relationship with you. You’re doing him a favor, and he can’t afford to fuck that up by thinking with his dick again.

“Did you just take a shower?” He asks, and he immediately bites his tongue. You still don’t have air conditioning, so it’s obvious that you’ve been sweating. “Sorry. I’m just here to thank you for everything.”

“It’s no problem… Is there anything else or was that all?” You question, knowing that a thank you is so trivial and clearly not important enough to come knocking at your door. You wait for a second while he gathers his thoughts before you know. “It’s about the Nanami thing, isn’t it?”

“I am confused about that… You introduced yourself with another last name but…” He doesn't want to sound accusatory so he slows his speech to try. Many ideas run through his head, but he won’t spew them out in case you get offended. You lean against the door frame, just staring at him, and he waits for you to speak up.

“Are you a widower, Fushiguro? From what I’ve seen, you and Megumi live alone.” You completely change the topic and focus on him. He nods, and gets rather irritated by the question, but he knows better than to say anything about it. “I’m a widow, and I have his last name on the majority of my legal documents.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” Toji’s cheeks turn a pink shade, feeling like a complete fool for even asking the question. He was rightfully curious, but he definitely feels as if he’s overstepped a line.

“You were bound to know. As long as you don’t make it weird.” You respond, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips. “I’d invite you in for a drink, but we both have to work tomorrow. Also I’m expecting Megumi to be completely ready tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah… Good night.” Toji tells you. He bites his bottom lip as he begins to walk away. You shut the door and walk back to your bed, thinking about Toji and his late-wife. So many questions begin to run through your head, but you tune them out fast.

You don’t care about the neighbor all that much, you have bigger problems in your life.

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