#A LOT OF TRAUMA TEAM STUFF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterr · 10 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

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mockerycrow · 11 months

Text

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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paper-mario-wiki · 8 months

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Hey I know your clown days are behind you and everything, but I'm still curious if you've got any opinions on The Amazing Digital Circus?

same thing everyone else does i suppose, that its fun and well made.

to be additive to the discussion instead of just saying positive stuff you've already heard, i'll levy a little critique against it, bearing in mind that i do so with positive, constructive intent.

i feel as though in recent times we've been oversaturated with stories and media with too grand a focus on the characters instead of interesting concepts. i think that the character design in the amazing digital circus is colorful and neat, but in the past 3 years how many "it's cutesy looking, but it's actually about existential terror and the cute characters go through trauma, oh no!" gimmicks have you seen in stories? personally ive seen quite a few.

i feel as though creatives are pushed too much to make a marketable face first and foremost, because lingering eyes are in high demand for artwork online these days. if someone is going to move on quick, which is going to be the case with the majority of people, it's much more likely that someone will find it easier to remember a cool design for a character instead of an entire unique sequence of events. that means story-driven things are either made to be more shallow to give more space for character moments, or have a much smaller chance for having their work succeed.

i do not think this is indicative of some mass decline in creative originality, or even the fault of the creatives who make the work. like i said, i thought it was a lot of fun and gave it a small positive review on twitter a few days ago. Gooseworx, as well as the rest of the team who made it, clearly cared for this project. what im talking about is a symptom of the larger issue that is the black-box algorithms that have desolated social networks, and create bad media consumption habits in people. though i wont lie to you and say i havent grown to resent the symptom too.

so to answer your question more succinctly, i dont really think of it that much at all. ive seen this one already.

#anon #i cant read ur whole name on mobile sorry #ur gettin tagged as anon

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tocomplainfriend · 5 months

Text

HAZBIN AND SA (+HB)

TW: SA and RAPE

THIS ITSELF DOESN'T TALK ABOUT THE SCENE! But the surrounding context.

So I really hate everything about how this has being treated. I am a SA victim and wanna talk about some stuff. If you didn't know, in episode 4 (I think) there is an exploration of Angel Dust SA, before going to do that lets see some stuff first:

She made a "cumming" joke about the song Poison (that accompanies the SA scenes)

This person over here worked on HH/HB (draws r-pe/non-con)

BLURRED AND CUTTED IMAGES: (Some are more or less explicit)

You know, that whole thing of shipping, and drawing porn of the canonical sexual abuser with the victim?

They also left this comment, under a comic where Val threatens brutal r-pe on Angel.

This person also worked in/directed the scenes of Angel dust Sexual abuse in the episode. The person that ships a r-pe ship and does all this shit is the one to work in this scene?????

ALSO????

Like??????? What happen here?

Also...

(The pinkie pfp person is 15 here too)

Why does Angel sexually harrases Husk non-stop (which is acknowledged by Vaggie)? Why is Moxxie SA by the succubus played for laughs? Same with Chaz or Blitz harassing him sexually or touching him without consent? Why did Stolas do so many unwanted advances towards Blitz, and that's literally the endgame couple of the show? (All of this are jokes, or by the Husk x Angel shit "ship moments"

WHY THIS TOO?

And yes you are "correct", something like Hypersexuality Trauma-should not being shamed. You are not a bad person, for dealing with this. BUT HEY, that doesn't mean you get to sexually harass people like Angel does to Husk or anyone.

Also, the problem is not having an SA victim's story. The problem is how it is treated and all the context that surrounds it. All of this above is that context! Why is so much SA jokes in Helluva? Why is that funny? You want to tell a story of SA, and anyone calling out the problems with it is deleting victims feelings and stories... YOU AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING JOKES DO THAT ALREADY. WHEN SA IS A JOKE FOR YOU, YOU ARE DIMINISHING SA AND R-PE.

There are also a lot of random fans saying that "Viv is an SA victim too"- #1 Where the fuck did she say that, cause you randomly saying that she said it doesn't mean shit. #2 DOESN'T DELETE THE WAY SA HAS BEING TREATED! THIS IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO MAKING A JOKE AS AN SA VICTIM ABOUT YOURSELF- SHE/AND OTHER IN THE TEAM ARE WRITING CHARACTERS GETTING SEXUALLY ASSAULTED AS THE JOKE. -OR NOT UNDERSTAND LEGIT POWER DYNAMICS AND THE GROSS THING THAT STOLAS DOES TO BLITZ. OR THE LITERAL "SHIP COMPILATION" THAT IS PURELY ANGEL SEXUALLY HARASSING HUSK.

"Is important to represent SA survivors stories- specially men who-" BROTHER ALL YOUR OTHER MALE CHARACTERS SEXUALLY HARRASS/ASSAULT OTHERS AS A JOKEEEE. "They are in hell" BITCH A HUMAN, A REAL PERSON WORKING ON THE SHOW WROTE hahaha Moxxie gets violated by the succubus so funny lol. IT'S NOT "LOONA IS A BAD PERSON FROM HELL THAT'S WHY SHE MADE FAT JOKES AT MOXXIE" NO IT'S WRITTEN AS IF THE SA WAS FUNNY IN ITSELF!

This is also not a scenario where there was a realization of the problems in HB with all those jokes and the harassment, so it was trying to be fixed with a serious story in hazbin. NO, THAT'S NOT IT!!!!

If there was an apology of how the sexual assault was treated in previous works! "We'll make up for it!" (the fact of that was a thing in the first place, it's still bad). That would be a little different. BUT NO, IT'S NOT! IT'S HYPOCRITICAL AND GARBAGE BULLSHIT.

I think purely by the context already given here that I think the representation it's bad. I don't feel like it comes from a good place, due to the hypocritical shit, the comments, and the artist who directed it.

We could go really back and forth with the direct scenes of the episode. BUT THIS IS ABOUT THE CONTEXT SURROUND IT rather than the scenes themselves. (Which is partly connected to the fact that it's incomplete)

Here is the scene "Tuca and Bertie". Is Bertie telling her friend of her assault. It's amazingly respectful and well written. It's not graphic, and tells the story really well.

youtube

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #spindlehorse critical #tw rape #tw sa #tw abuse

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jhuzen · 1 year

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married life [m.reader]

this is me taking the first step in creating the househusband hcs of our tall hsr men for us gays and bi kings. happy pride ansismdkf (i mean to say that also in haitham’s post bUT OH WELL). anyway, i still hate luocha. otto trauma so true so real (honestly, his only saving grace in mhy games is ayato because he’s not blond). today, we have ourselves some househusbands.

𖦹 househusband hcs with gepard, sampo, jing yuan, blade, dan heng, caelus and old man welt, no luocha but i’m open to be convinced why i should start loving him, mostly fluff, domestic stuff, modern au though… aren’t they more modern if they can travel the space? huh. normal world au then. forgot to add that ceo reader is implied

GEPARD LANDAU

He’s a very reluctant househusband at first, actually. He’s one who firmly believes that relationships are a team effort (and they are and should be), and thinks that it wouldn’t hurt for the both of you to work together. Of course, you encourage him regardless, and with both of your career-oriented selves, you were basically the couple that could foster a ten or so children and still be financially sound.

Serval is the one who convinced Gepard to lay low a little in his job and relax for once. You’re making a decent income a month — enough for you to be the only one working and still have a comfortable life together.

You have to thank your sister-in-law and her craftiness. She wasn’t Gepard’s sister for nothing. She knew your husband more than anyone and knew that he was too down bad to even refuse in entertaining the thought of not taking care of you. All she had to do was do a little convincing.

“If I were [Name], I sure wouldn’t mind coming home to a nice meal like this every night,” she’d muse with a hum while she ate off of Gepard’s cooking. He came home early that one night and thought to surprise you. Of course, Serval just had to taste test since she’s looking out for you, her beloved brother-in-law. “Also wouldn’t mind being taken care of by my own spouse…”

Gepard quickly folded. What if his sister was right and you wanted that kind of life? But it’s not like he also wants to quit his job just like that. So he made a gradual decrease in work until he can finally have a schedule that can commit as a househusband and occasionally help when he’s needed at work as a consultant.

Your beloved husband is a bit mid from the start — basic in cooking, in chores, but it’s his perseverance that pushes him up to S-tier househusband status. He will really go out of his way to learn recipes that you suddenly brought up in the middle of a conversation and will execute it to the highest standards. He will become a lot more meticulous in his chores around the house.

If he can, he’s definitely the type to drop by and join you in lunch. He’s a lot more free now, and if there’s nothing else to do in the house, he’ll take some lunch and go to where you work and just eat lunch together. Everyone is looking at the windows of your own office in envy while they watched you get spoon fed by your cute husband (they don’t know how embarrassed Gepard is since you technically just coerced him to feed you so people can see you on purpose).

So very attentive to you. He wakes you up early (even earlier if you have meetings where you have to discuss things to be extra prepared) for work. Your lunch is just top tier, but the plating is too cute — with the slightly uneven shapes to create cute animals. He’s the kind to even put a note in your packed lunch every time without fail.

He knows how hard you work and only wants the best for you. And when you recognize his efforts, he’s quick to get flustered from your compliments. He will fold like a wet cardboard. He’s too weak.

“Dear, please,” you could only laugh at your beloved’s winsome attitude. Currently pressed against the marbled counter of the kitchen, you can only shower him in a plethora of love-filled kisses as you expressed your unending gratitude. Your lips left tiny pecks from his cheeks down to his neck, only serving to fluster him even more.

You pulled back but not before leaving another quick kiss on his nose, “What’s got you all knotted up, love? No one’s watching.” You cooed, leaving your poor husband whining at the thought of earlier — when you so cruelly asked him to feed you in front of your subordinates while you busily ‘worked’ on your projects.

But somehow even with the unbridled embarrassment that you brought to him, Gepard couldn’t help but feel the elation engulf his entirety at the prospect of you showing him off in your own mischievous ways. Even with your busy schedule, you were more than willing to let him come inside your work and take the time off just to let him join you for lunch. He’d already heard enough drama around the neighborhood to be grateful that you can still balance your work with your marriage.

He was grateful to have you as his partner for life. And even then, he wouldn’t mind having to visit you just to feed you. It was certainly a rare thing that he’s heard partners would suggest, so to be given a privilege as seeing you everyday at work was something he would cherish more than ever.

A kiss on his temple knocked his fleeting thoughts off the rail and pulled him back to reality, blinking at your curious smile, “…Shield for your thoughts?” You inquired with a gentle tone, eager to pry just what has got your husband so spacey all of a sudden.

He only grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss and murmured against your lips, “Just thanking my lucky stars for having you as my husband.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI

Your friends still think you’re a legend for even managing to wife up the untamable Sampo. But somehow, you pulled him in and he was more than willing to be a househusband. For more reasons than one.

But let’s get out the pinnacle of his reasons out of the way — it being, him living so comfortably? Financially supported by a handsome guy like you? Sign him up. He’s more than willing to take care of you while you take care of him. He’s a sleazy guy, after all. Wouldn’t wanna get married to a broke man. Kidding.

Anyway, he mostly sells the story of getting married just for benefits for laughs. But really, you’ve somehow managed to actually trap him as a prisoner of love. He’s a huge simp for you and actually considers your high-end job a bonus. A really good bonus. But other than that, you’ve got Sampo completely wrapped around your finger. And he’s a very eager househusband.

A surprisingly good househusband. He’s meticulous in his work and can cook. But what really sells him is how well he can budget and actively get discounts just by smooth talking the vendors in the market. You once went with him, telling him to go nuts and buy everything that he needs, and you came home with only just a good half of your money spent. He was scarily good and from then on, you made an oath to take notes from your husband’s amazing haggling skills.

He’s a very resourceful man. If you need anything, he’s there to lend a hand. He’s always there to fix equipments that break down. Really, you rarely get issues with the things at home, because the moment he senses that there’s something wrong, he’s already on the case. Your husband is a jack of all trades.

All he requires is a small fee of some attention and loving from you. Seriously, he will mope around and will let you know that he’s upset that you forgot to give him a goodbye kiss earlier when you left for work.

You wake up much earlier than he does, but please wake him up. He wants to cook you breakfast and see you off like a loving househusband that he is. He will sulk if you so much as even think of leaving him without waking him up. He’s a big drama queen and unless you make up for it once you get home, he will continue to walk around the house with a pout on his face.

The only way to make this man completely crumble underneath you is to spoil him. He’s working so hard with the upkeep of your shared home! If you take him out on surprise date nights, he will melt. Shower him with lavish gifts from all the money you saved up, courtesy of Sampo’s extreme bargaining. He will latch onto your arm the entire night like your pretty little arm candy (even if he’s taller than you).

Oh, right. You will get sudden visits from Natasha or even Seele and Oleg, just to check up on your married life. They’re mostly just there to whack some sense into Sampo if he’s being difficult to you. Suffice to say, they’re always surprised when they come visit your homely abode that’s clean and has a refreshing atmosphere. Seele plugs her ears every time you say it’s all because of Sampo that your house is even remotely presentable. She’s in denial.

It was a grueling day, leaving you completely vulnerable to the throes of exhaustion. You ought to take some vacation days, maybe go on a different country with your husband for a treat. Surely, he’d like that. You noticed he’s been working just as hard as you at home. Speaking of which — the reason for your home’s unfamiliar silence was in fact the lack of singing from your lively husband. You were so used to hearing his voice that the silence felt incredibly deafening when you were alone.

“Love? You home?” You called out, glancing at the shoe rack by the door to see his outdoor shoes in the same place and the indoor shoes missing. He’s here. You pursed your lips, brushing off the peculiarity and headed to the joint dining room and kitchen, seeing a nice still hot meal sitting on a nice plate. But it was the only thing on the table, no other plates or even a husband waiting on you with a smile. You peered at the food to see a card beside the plate, scribbled with a sad face.

“…What.” You sat the card back down before finally poking your head in the living room, seeing your husband watching another sad show while screwing in some panel from what you can only guess a part of your heater. You sauntered up from behind him, before grabbing his face and tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

He made no noise and had it not been for his evident pout, you would’ve only been left wondering what you did to make him so sulky again. You sighed before leaning to press a kiss against your lips. You could feel him finally smile against the kiss.

“So you still love me?” He asked, insinuating that you felt otherwise for not even giving him a kiss goodbye earlier.

“Not like I have a choice,” was your only cheeky response.

“Wha— Hey!”

𐂂

JING YUAN

Out of everyone, he is probably the most eager one to be a househusband. He is so ready to retire. He’s been moaning about it at work constantly, about how he’s just ready to settle in somewhere nice and be taken care of. And when you decided to finally tie the knot with him, you didn’t even have to ask twice, that man is already turning in his resignation and is already making your shared home even cozier than ever.

He’s a very languid man, but that does not mean he’s going to flake out on chores. He can do them all efficiently just for the sake of getting them out of the way so he can keep relaxing after. That, and of course making sure that you come home to a clean home. Aeons know how stressful it is to come home from work and seeing your own home completely cluttered. Jing Yuan has suffered the same thing before he met you.

Jing Yuan loves you through his cooking other than sleeping in with you. He creates the greatest dishes for you. Often are you eating your lunch with so much pride. Your subordinates would come inside your office during lunchtime to pass some papers and they would see you just completely enjoying life with your husband’s cooking.

He likes to greet you with a nice warm meal after your work. And he’d just watch you eat his meals with a fond smile while you continue to talk about each of your days with each other. Of course, occasionally, he’d open his mouth and you would have to feed him as well. Yanqing would sometimes come home to such a sight and never has he seen a more domestic scene than before.

Another one of his much favored ways to show his love is through after work massages. You’d come home and be completely smothered with love just by his touches. Sometimes he’d give you a nice neck and shoulder massage while you’re eating and talking about your day. Or you could both be lounging on the sofa and he would absentmindedly massage your overworked hands.

However his most favored time spent with you is when you’re on a day off and that he would successfully persuade you into staying a little bit longer in bed with him. Just sleep until the afternoon, with limbs tangled against one another. He loves spooning his husband that takes care of him so dearly. Just feeling your back pressed against his chest while he’s nuzzling his nose into the nape of your neck. Bliss. Utter bliss.

The two of you scream old married couple. Just two old geezers enjoying their lives. It’s really such a relaxing relationship. Being married to Jing Yuan is like a vacation from your problems and him being married to you is an adventure without the nauseating exhaustion.

Yanqing is inadvertently your child the moment you got married to your husband. And suffice to say, you were far more content in your life than you could ever imagine. Never have you felt the genuine happiness swell within you the moment you came home to the two of them cooking together. You still have a slightly motion blurred picture in your phone and neither of them know about it.

Overall the most chill househusband. But even in his passivity, you can feel the radiating warmth of love for you. He just… loves you so much that he’s more than willing to take care of you and the little family that you and him have created. He will wait for you by the door with his half-lidded gaze completely fixated on you with so much adoration. He’s lucky to have you.

You were used to the hectic mornings you often faced upon waking up. It was always a rush job in the morning, speeding through all your morning routine before finally leaving for work. But today was not that day. You could tell from the way the sunlight hit your eyelids. You always left just before the sun could even come up, but right now, you had other plans.

You wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for your husband. He had been working so hard all the time, taking care of you and Yanqing with no days off unlike you. You figured you could get the day started and surprise the both of them with some of your cooking prowess. Suddenly filled with the motivation, you sat up, ready to face the first hour of your time off work for a few days.

However, your plans were soon foiled when a strong arm hooked around your waist and immediately pulled you back down on the bed without even breaking a sweat. You sighed, looking off to the side to see one golden eye peering at you sleepily. Lips turning up into a smile, you shifted to fully face him.

“Can’t even let me make you some breakfast in bed, huh?” You teased with the same fondness as the very first day you and him got married.

A quiet grunt was all your lover gave, only to follow it up with his own gruff response a minute later, “While that sounds nice, I believe I can also reap benefits just from canoodling with my husband for let’s say… until the afternoon.”

Your hands were tied at that point, and with one last charming smile from your dozing husband, you dove into his arms, letting him press some kisses on your face before falling asleep, with you following after.

𐂂

BLADE

No one in this world knows how you managed to charm and marry Blade in the first place. Even his family considers you a miracle worker for bagging the hard to get man. You could only reminisce of the times he would give you the cold shoulder when you tried to ask him out. You were cringe but Blade somehow liked it.

Regardless, he’s one of the reluctant househusbands at first. Blade doesn’t like the feeling of not going out and making money like you. He believes that as long as he can, he will contribute to this relationship. It’s really adorable. And you were supportive of what he wants, but when he realized no one can take care of you while you’re busy being the breadwinner, he decided that he’ll take one for the team and take care of everything in the house instead.

He is meticulous in cleaning. Your house is always sparkling clean the moment you arrive at home. He’s constantly on the hunt for any dust that could taint your shared humble abode. He once read that an unclean house can cause sickness to the occupants, and he has never let a single dust touch a furniture ever since then. Your health is his priority and he will do everything in his power to keep you healthy.

You know what? Screw it, he wears his apron without a care too. He goes out of the house in a pink frilly apron you gifted him as a silly little joke and he’s not ashamed of it. Even Kafka’s incessant teasing isn’t enough to deter him from wearing it. You gave it to him and he loves it. That’s all that matters.

Surprisingly loved by your neighbors. In contrast to his gloomy disposition, he’s always seen around the market and with people’s tendency to draw closer to mysterious handsome men like him, let’s just say he’s managed to unintentionally charm your neighbors. Everyone calls you lucky for getting him, everyone calls him lucky for having a good husband that provides.

Really, he cares so little about the money you make. All he needs is your love and attention. It is imperative that you give him calls on certain times of the day, let him know that you’re still alive at the very least. It’s not like you can’t make do on such a promise either, you loved calling him just to take a break from work for a little while. Even just hearing his quiet grunts of agreement while you gossiped about your subordinates was enough.

He wakes you up… like really early. Super early. Like at least a few hours before you call in for work. His reason? To get enough time with you before you go to work. It’s adorable. You two could be just lounging at the balcony, sipping coffee or tea while you both watch the sunrise.

Speaking of which, with him comes a package. His aforementioned family. Kafka and Silver Wolf’s visits are a must. They are a part of him and now they are a part of you. Kafka could be dropping by just to chat and gossip with you (somehow both of you know a lot about people’s own businesses) or Silver Wolf would just barge in and hog all your game systems (she says no one plays them since you’re both old men so she gets the privilege). Either way you’re already used to it, and one guest room is always at the ready.

Getting married to Blade is honestly the best thing you’ve ever done in your life. You still don’t know how you pulled him, but with him resting on you while the both of you watched shows, showing you his vulnerability tells you that doing so is not an accident or a mistake.

“…Would it kill you to step back a little? It’s hard to cook.”

“But you’re so warm. So soft… so…”

Quite possibly out of all the forms of affections that you’ve expressed towards him, Blade finds your nosy hands cupping around his chest from under his clothes the least practical. Especially when you’re doing it while he’s cooking your breakfast before you’re off for work.

He flipped the omelet with ease despite his claims of difficulty just seconds ago. Of course, it wasn’t as hard when he’s standing still. But on times where he had to go get some things, you in your sleepy daze had to trudge behind him like a shadow just to persistently warm your incredibly cold hands.

Regardless, other than the difficulty in moving, Blade finds it even harder not to burn the kitchen down as his concentration dwindled with every kiss you pressed against his neck, unrelenting and incredibly soft, so filled with love in every individual peck that met his skin. His face turned a rather dark shade of scarlet while you busied yourself with him.

“Keep this up and you’re going to be late.”

“At least it’s extra time with you~” you cooed.

Blade only sighed before leaning against your back, using his free hand to softly knock into the side of your head as his form of half-assed discipline.

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that extra time too.

𐂂

DAN HENG

He’s not so much as a reluctant househusband. In fact, he relishes in the idea of just staying home and doing his work there. He likes the comfort of being able to sit things out for once after having to look after his two gremlins for friends. However, he does want to make sure that you’re always safe when you’re working.

After a lot of reassurances, he finally decides that you can handle your own. He will compensate for it by taking an extremely good care of you and your shared home. And this man does not play around. He’s sort of like Blade, excelling at everything that needs to be done not just because, but it’s to keep you safe. He cooks you healthy meals and scrubs any dirt off the face of the world.

Easily one of the greatest househusbands in the list. Dan Heng has the right temperament and while he’s often aloof to most people, when it comes to you, you could already feel how he seems more lenient, a little softer on you.

He does all his work efficiently to get them over with as fast and as best as he can so he can have time to visit you in your work. If he knows he has time, count on your beloved husband to come and bring you some freshly cooked lunch in your office. Almost everyone in your company already knows who he is. He’s the elusive husband of the big boss, coming in just to bring you some lunch.

Speaking of which, might wanna keep your subordinates in check. Dan Heng is a looker, and the fact that he’s just as considerate, combined with his mysterious nature, people are bound to be more attracted to him. Though honestly, none of their little admiration could measure up to Dan Heng’s love for you.

In his eyes, you are the only one important, right next to his own family with Himeko and the rest. And he will do all that he can to make sure that you’re alright in any aspect of your life. However even with that dedication, it’s also your job to keep him intact. He focuses so much on you that he sometimes forgets to wind down.

Taking him out on something with a serene atmosphere usually does the trick. Bring tons of books to entertain yourselves, and if the stories get too old, you chat about things you have yet to tell each other. Dan Heng really appreciates the effort you put in, investing your time in him despite the fact that you’re running a conglomerate, but even then just a little gesture from you is enough for him to know how grateful you are for his own efforts as well.

Old married couple 2.0. March said so herself when she decided to barge into your home to show you her pictures from her recent travels. She and the raccoon are tied at the tally of visits. Often they just crash just to make sure Dan Heng hasn’t driven you insane yet with his very… unromantic nature. Safe to say March still couldn’t believe that dear old Dan Heng was the first to pop the question in tying the knot.

Speaking of unromantic, your husband does come off as one, often giving you practical solutions than giving you any words of comfort when you’re stressed. And perhaps it’s because you understood that’s his way of romancing you that you and him ended up married in the first place.

Exhaustion was more of a friend than a foe after having to bury yourself in the tower stacks of paperwork. It’s times like these that you had to wonder if running the family company is even worth it.

“I’m too tired to driiiiive,” you whined, looking at the spreadsheets in exasperation.

And as if he had a sixth sense, a knock on your door was heard and you gave the green light with little regard for the person behind the door. You then looked up and almost cried at the sight of your beautiful husband, with two coffees in hand.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” it was all he had to say to prompt what little motivation you had left in your system, letting your sluggish self spring back to life. You bound to him with a grateful smile on your face and greeted him with an embrace.

You took one cup from him and graced him with a kiss on his cheek, “Hang on, let me get some take home work. I need to at least finish a good third of this.”

Your poor husband was a lot more worried than he could let on with his stoic face — seeing you on the ropes, completely hard at work and barely functioning at the sheer exhaustion was almost enough to tempt him into stopping you from bringing home your work. Alas, he supported you regardless and only thought to compensate for your extra work with an even better dinner.

“Anything you want for tonight?” He asked, thoughtful as always.

“Mmm… chicken fried rice?”

“Chicken fried rice it is.”

𐂂

CAELUS

Not a single soul expected for this man to get married. Everyone thought he’d just end up on the streets willingly, constantly rummaging through trash can after trash can, falling in love with one and settling down with it in his own odd way. Surprise surprise, he is now a househusband that digs through the high end trash cans placed inside your shared home.

Quite frankly, if Caelus was being honest, he also did not expect to trip into you and quite literally fall in love. And for you to reciprocate it. He always thought you two were just the best of friends, with you supporting his hobbies with little to no judgment. So imagine his surprise that he keeps feeling every time he wakes up right next to you (and right next to his five foot pillow of a trashcan, but it’s a separate affair on its own).

Moving aside your husband’s very odd addiction of living the life of a trash panda, Caelus is actually a pretty decent househusband. His specialities are mostly the meals he makes for you. They’re always so delicious and is often the highlight of your day even without him around.

He’s very active around the neighborhood and is always armed with the latest news around town. The other stay at home spouses love him. And you were quite surprised to find out that he’s far more connected in the very place you both live in than you could ever be. When you’re free, you’d sometimes accompany him to the market and somehow end up staying very late because a lot of people recognize him and seem to want to chat with him.

Caelus parades you around as his beloved husband and people are just dropping jaws when they realize you have definitely been interviewed in one of those famous magazines about businesses and all that jazz.

Surprisingly, just like Sampo, Caelus is your man when it comes to spending wisely and learning how to haggle. He knows his way around almost everything and even you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself of fishing out such a dashing man that is wise in finances. Good man, honestly.

One fact about him that you like are his skills in caring for children. There’s something so wonderfully domestic whenever you would come home early and see him playing with the children — Hook and Clara, if you can recall. He’s mostly just babysitting for them on days that he’s not completely hammered to death with housework.

His favorite thing to do with you is grocery shopping at night. Just the two of you cruising around every aisle, more often than not, you’d push the cart with him in it getting gradually buried by every item you decided to purchase. It’s a good way to spend some time together while getting something productive done. And perhaps coax you into buying a little more food than you and him intended in the first place. Dan Heng always advices you not to be too swayed by your husband antics… but it’s clearly not working.

Caelus is a silly little man, with his weird eccentric jokes and his equally strange fascination for all things related to trash cans. But it’s probably because of this that you found yourself enamored. He is your respite in the suffocating world of your workforce. He pushes you in situations you never thought would be fun unless he was with you.

“If you loved me, you would’ve gotten ten more boxes of cookies.”

“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be willingly burying yourself in that cart instead of helping me pick between chocolate or strawberry milk.” You quipped back with a snarky grin, not even bothering to look at your childish husband who continued to be sprawled out in the cart at ten in the evening while you shopped.

Caelus pouted, you always did make good points. It’s why he could never win an argument against you. Or maybe he could… if he wasn’t so completely smitten at the sight of you. You were always seen as the dignified boss of your company, dressed in three piece suits that could suffocate anyone and their wallet.

But here you were, dressed in a loose shirt (likely one of his just judging from the fit) and some pair of joggers that you haphazardly threw on.

Absolutely breathtaking.

He lent out a hand to reach for the carton of flavored milk that you finally chose, adding it onto the pile. He waited until you were at the end of the cart, getting ready to muscle your way through pushing an incredibly heavy cart, courtesy of your husband.

Caelus looked up at you, “Don’t I at least get a kiss for helping out?”

“Cae, I’m dying from pushing you. How ‘bout we entertain that incentive once you got out of the cart and started helping me, hm?”

Maybe he’s just a simp, but how could he deny his demanding husband’s whims?

𐂂

WELT YANG

This old man is the definition of a reluctant retiree. Well, it’s not actually a retirement for him. He still gets to be the voice of reason, only that he won’t actually personally animating. Who’s to blame? You. To be accurate, this old man officially decided to step down from his hands-on job as an animator so he can be a househusband. You’re a priority after all, and only the heavens know how bad you need to be taken care of.

Welt joins the ranks of a godly househusband. He knows his way around almost every single thing that needs to get fixed. His cooking? Top tier. His housework game? Absolute perfection. Floors are swept, counters are wiped and dusted, sheets and clothes are washed and pressed. He is perfect.

And on top of that, he still manages to balance his work from home as the consultant for any new anime that is about to be produced and can still care for you without even breaking a sweat. Old man Welt is always pulling through.

So let’s get this out of the way — actual old married couple. Not just vibes. You two are old men who look at the screen with squinted eyes. Well, only Welt does that while you laugh at him and then proceed to forget where you placed your own phone despite being on it just a few minutes ago.

Regardless, you live a much more balanced life, just two husbands cruising through life with little worries. You live on a good neighborhood, living comfortably and get a lot of visits from yours and Welt’s friends/family. Most of which are from the trio and Himeko. You and Welt always host these family dinners on weekends where everyone is free. Life is good.

However despite all the glamour of living a comfortable life in this marriage, there is one glaring difference between you and Welt — mostly it’s the fact that you have worse time management than he does and often gets the short end of the stick, always pummeled to death with your paperwork that could leave anyone in a fit of raw despair. Welt looked at your work the one time you left to answer a phone call from office and shuddered at the heavy load.

Welt is essentially your clock when it’s time to unwind from work. You have a tendency to overwork at times and it’s something that Welt always makes sure to keep an eye out for. He just wants what’s best for you, and oftentimes, what’s best is for you is to finally get some shuteye after suffering through another overnight that you pulled.

Also, there is an unspoken rule of not letting any man with long blonde hair inside your home. It’s just a house rule. The top of all other house rules in fact, as it takes the most priority in fulfilling.

Regardless, Welt is so… househusband-shaped. He knows what to do as one and does a damn good execution of it all. Maybe it’s because of his compassionate self that you were quick to fall for the old man. He didn’t even have to try and show off, all he had to do was be himself and you’d still give him the world with every penny you’ve earned from your job.

A taut frown tugged onto Welt’s lips as he squinted on the labels from the spices that Himeko sent from her recent overseas trip. Not that he didn’t trust his good friend’s tastes in any form of flavor, it’s only that he wanted to make sure none of it had any ingredient that could probably send you into an anaphylactic shock. Yes, he is this meticulous when it comes to you.

Alas, his cautiousness grants no extra clear sight in viewing the labels and he struggled, holding them in different proximities. Are the characters really that small intentionally or are they so incoherent because they manufacturers made an error in the sizing the font before printing it on the packaging.

Fortunately for him, you came into the rescue as you plucked the packaging from his hands. Welt didn’t need to look up to see the same smug smile plastered on your face whenever you’d catch him doing the same thing to his phone. Well, he loved looking at you so he did it nonetheless.

“Having trouble again, old man?” You teased and Welt only had to sigh in response. “Is this from Himeko’s package?”

Your endeared husband nodded, “Of course. I had to see what else she gave us. And I’m looking over the ingredients so I can keep you out of the hospital as best as I can.” He turned to the stove and lowered the heat. “Now kindly read it for me, dear.”

You only nodded, flipping over the packet, “Sure thing.”

There was a silence that followed, with Welt expecting you to run your mouth about the ingredients already. He looked back to you…

…And saw you squinting at the same bundle of text that he’s been staring at.

Welt scoffed, playful and light in nature, “And you call me old.”

“It’s the manufacturer’s fault…!!”

#you’d think i learned my lesson after doing the shivers with 8 characters. but nope. Here we are with seven.#OOH. now i wanna make an hsr men version of the shivers scenario thingy that i made for the tall genshin men #jhuzen’s stupid hcs #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #gepard x male reader #sampo x male reader #jing yuan x male reader #blade x male reader #dan heng x male reader #caelus x male reader #welt yang x male reader

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luna-lovegreat · 7 months

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Triple Threat Time

The Terror Trio

Legend, Hyrule, and Wild are known as the Triple Threat and I love them.

@breannasfluff for you, m'lady

Legend and Wild

These two are the most over looked.

And from the very beginning, we have a ton of examples of them just. Being. Near each other.

Like magnets

We can trace back to the moment these two really connected and spent more time with each other... which was of COURSE over girlfriend trauma

That's one of our first Legend being soft moments, showing true empathy. And Wild found that Legend could be understanding of his hurt- this is where they connected beyond just being closer than most

The main point in the plot with Legend and Wild is when they split off into groups

They went together, and this interaction shows that with these three, Legend is the common sense filter that keeps the other two from falling off of cliffs

Wild: I wanted to climb the mountain!

Leg: there is literally a cliff to fall off of right there

One of the things I love most about about Legend and Wild is they understand each other

We have multiple examples of them literally stating facts about the other in coversation.

"I know you love to tease" "you break everything" "you're not usually impressed"

They just state facts about each other because they get each other and understand

Wild and Hyrule

Ah yes. The two that have so many similarities in which they give the rest of the chain heart attacks

They both have the insecurity about knighthood. Hyrule because he's never felt adequate, and Wild feels like he only used to be.

They both hate maps (who needs them, right? *promptly gets lost*)

They do not care about injury at all. "I can walk off a broken leg for sure it'll be fine"

When left alone these two nearly die. Like every time. Love them.

Here's a lot of them hanging out:

Legend and Hyrule

The downfall duo

These two are from the same timeline, the downfall timeline, and there are certain connections coming from the same world. I think that their world made them have a similar fighting style because of how it's developed.

They are around each other mostly

And they always fight together

Here's my take on these two: Legends more confident because he's done so much. Hyrule's less confident because he didn't have such an insane number of adventures.

Legend's been through enough to know this is ganon's fault, not his. Hyrule's been through little enough (even with insanely hard adventures) that he has much more insecurity.

These two are quite possibly the most skilled in survival, because of no formal knight training. Instead of having perfect swordsmanship, they have tools (legend) and spells (hyrule) to fight in a world that was so much harder.

Which of course relates to wild who woke up in a cave, found a sword and winged it.

That's their relationships two on two

Legend and wild: power team, overlooked but so so close

Wild and Hyrule: do not let them near fire

Legend and Hyrule (downfall duo): They fight together and they are a pair

Combined these three make a Triple Threat

They also have dynamics with all three of them combined

Bestest moments of them:

When turned into a bunny, Legend mentioned both Hyrule and Wild as the ones he was worried about seeing him that way

In both scenes of Wild breaking swords Legend or Hyrule was there

When Wild was injured, they both somehow lost their senses and freaked out about him being dead (lol)

But with all of them they understand each other

Wild and Hyrule know Legend is grumpy and rude- they don't care, he's their brother. As the one who appreciates maps, he keeps both from getting even closer to dying

Hyrule: he feels accepted. These two make him feel like he has a place and is valuable to those with similarities.

Hyrule and Legend don't care about Wild's odd traits, they know that he breaks stuff and gets hurt often.

Proof

!!!! Looking at their scenes (in my screenshots above too), this is clear: all three of them have more examples than most of them being next to or near the others

Plus all the adventures and scenes of them- they fight and wander together- they are on this journey with each other

Because they understand each other, they spend time with each other. With nine people in the chain, when a few are around each other this much rather than the others, it makes it very clear how close they are, since they simply want to be near each other.

Here's my very favourite picture that perfectly sums up the three of them:

Legend: grrrr

Hyrule: excited

Wild: still can't put his hands on his hips properly

And these three combined... we've got constantly injured, set fire to everything, get lost a ton, snarky rudeness galore, plus swords and tools and magic, and that makes them a threat

(one thing I want to point out. you can see this by looking at the screenshots in this post. with the chain, much of figuring out who is close is simply who is near each other. looking at their interactions and the times they are hanging out as a group, Four is most often near and hanging out with these three rather than the others, so I think he is also very close to them and feels comfortable with them. do with that what you will.)

Yeah! Terror Trio.

#btw- I used terrior trio tags for the purpose of finding stuff in my own blog but the official/main tag is Lu triple threat #(I have no idea what I'm doing sometimes but it's ok)#I love triple threat #lu triple threat #linked universe #linkeduniverse #loz #Lu #terror trio #Lu terror trio #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu legend

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Northern Attitude

Next chapter

a/n guilty... guilty... guilty... I caved in. I own up to my weaknesses. Promised myself to never write for this man and here I am now. This is my first time so be gentle. 🗡️🫧

summery: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: injuries, blood, bleeding out, alcohol, needles, death, trauma fun stuff.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You two hated each other. That was a fact, and there was no way around it. It was scowling glares, sharp jabs during training if you two were paired together, and bitter remarks thrown here and there. And the joy of it all was that Price had granted you a shared room on the base. First, the excuse was that there was simply not enough room; the team had grown. Then he said he wasn't having a team that was up on biting each other's necks out. So in conclusion, he had set it up on purpose.

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

It was the way your hand limped against Simon's face that sent the last wave of panic through him. Your clammy skin pressed against him. And he was back there, back in the house where his family was killed. No, he couldn't lose you. Not now that he had found you. Not without you knowing that he also cared, just like everyone else. "Y/N", he called out softly. He had never called you by your real name. Never had a chance to see if your eyes would shimmer when he did. "Don't do this", he breathed again your not injured shoulder, "Don't you dare fucking die on me". But he was met with nothing. Only then did he realize that he would have to live with nothing but regret and your blood on his hands. All because he couldn't find a way to let your light shine through his cold demeanor. All because he was afraid of the fact that he had found himself caring again.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod image #ghost cod x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader #simon riley x reader

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jazzyblusnowflake · 2 months

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OKAY SO

since yall wanted me to talk more about this Demon!Uzi and Hunter/Exorcist!N,V,J au I'm just gonna write down my ideas here just to get them out of my head-

thanks to @purrple-bat for helping with some of the ideas :D

some details may be nsfw cuz i mentioned it previously so that's your content warning🔞

also there may be plot holes and its not fully complete or whatever im just trying to get this out of my head 😭 main ship is NUziV // ViolentBitingBiscuits

the Au is an urban setting- not a forest and fantasy dnd kinda thing-

Tessa is the leader of several groups of teams that are demon hunters and exorcists.

J, V and N are in the same team and those are their codenames.

Uzi is a halfie, with Khan as the human parent and Nori as the demon parent. they are referred to as "Changelings" too.

Uzi cannot be exorcised from her demon side or she will become a mindless unresponsive zombie. methods have still not been found on how to exorcise these demons and disabling their powers without killing them, mostly due to the lack of anyone caring.

Demons feed on different things related to humans, mostly their emotions, with a heavy preference on fear, pain, anguish and etc

some more bolder demons will kill or drink blood of humans but even in the demons society that's a taboo and if any leads are traced back to you being a demon, you will be eliminated by your own kind before the humans can get to you.

Uzi was caught by accident, fully blended in as a human.

She's cheeky and likes making humans miserable and playing around with them, but she's not really one of the threatening ones, she doesn't want to or care about hurting them.

Doll is a full demon and is kinda like a sister figure to Uzi, always advising her to get away from humans and she might end up getting hurt or some shit.

Nori has multiple lovers, she feeds off the love and lust but she considers it a just a treat, she's actually one of the most powerful demons around and absolutely loves feeding off of nightmares, trauma, horror and dread. she does have a soft spot for khan tho as her only human lover. khan is generally just dumb for loving a demon as his wife. smh

Nori is a high ranked demon meaning she could share her energy with other demons if any of them would want to pass as normal humans and just live in society. also could send out demons to capture or punish one of their own for breaking rules.

Uzi starts out weak but upon capture, bluffs a lot about how powerful she is and that she likes to play around with them.

They keep Uzi to get information out of her about other demons.

On attempts at getting away she does end up getting closer to N.

Uzi likes feeding on misery and angst but the genuineness of Ns affections made her thirsty for more.

She ends up also getting closer to V from bantering and sometimes talking about stuff and etc and sometimes sparring and fights when she attempts to escape. N saves V at one point before Uzi did some real damage. V grew to actually respect her more after that.

Uzi was let go after a while since they checked and she wasn't really at a power level to threat anyone [much to Uzi's resentment that she could be powerful if she wanted to >:( ]

Hunters and exorcists have magical seals hacked into their bodies for protection. their arms have these symbols that can be used as weapons that appear in translucent shapes like claws and shields and swords. 5 pair of vertical eyes appear above their heads and a glowing X marks their face when they are using their powers- marking that the demon cannot get into their heads. their eyes glow gold once using their powers despite the original color of their eyes.

the same kind of powers and seals appear on demons but they don't hack it into their bodies, they gain it with ranks. demons have human forms and demon forms, changelings are just weaker from the beginning. unless they are possessed...

V and N start giving Uzi "treats" whenever she helps them out in catching more dangerous demons. this ranges from kisses, bites, their blood toooooo more intimate stuff :3 at first this starts out as an idea to get her to talk but after a while V couldn't help but to feel affection towards this pint sized little gremlin.

Uzi gets overwhelmed when she is showered with affection by being in the middle of V and N, she is touch and affection starved and she gets easily addicted to it, wanting to claim the two as her own.

V and N putting seals on Uzi that makes her enjoy their touches and intimacy more but edging her and keeping her from releasing until she gives them the info they need. Uzi probably would tell them the info anyway- she just likes to see how far she could handle the two before she breaks into a begging, pleading mess.

Uzi purrs and does everything in her power to keep anyone from finding out...

Drinking demon blood makes Hunters gain more power, and drinking human blood makes demons feel pleasure and ecstasy as well as gaining more power, especially if the human is a hunter/magic user.

Uzis wings are sensitive and she likes to clean them with a wet cloth. N and V like to help her with this. and her tail mouth too lol.

The demons have a hellish demon sect that even they all fear... i think you can guess who the head of it is...

Aaaaand i think thats all for now idk. bye- //exploads

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undead-supernova · 1 month

Text

Bummer! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: you invite eddie out to a party with you and your best friend and it's all perfect...right?

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, dirty dancing/making out, hints at past trauma, arguing, underlining slut shaming, lots of heavy petting and fluffy feelings

note: we're up to part 3 already?! with part 4 already in the works?! who even am I anymore!!! thank you to both @littlexdeaths and @jo-harrington for being my biggest supporters and encouraging me to keep going. this is for you both !!!!

song inspo: the song in this chapter is Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny. It is an absolute bop (also he is so hot it’s not even funny)

wc: 5.6k

“Your life sounds like fan fiction.”

You let out a high-pitched scoff, taking Aron’s stuffed octopus by the tentacles and whacking her with it.

“Shut up!”

Aron chuckled, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I never said that was a bad thing!”

You and Aron, your best friend since freshman year, were perched on her bed, all cross-legged and giggly, recounting the last few weeks with Eddie. When you finally told Aron about him, she was livid. How could you not tell your best friend about a really hot guy you’d been seeing who wasn’t an asshole?

“He’s just so good,” you said with a content smile, throwing your head back on the bed like a girl in a 2000s romantic comedy. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“Yeah, I’d feel lucky too if I had a guy playing guitar for me and tasted like cinnamon and beauty and stuff.”

Your smile widened, the phantom touch of his lips already having imprinted itself on your mouth. “He’s just so nice. And I feel like he gets me, you know? He sees me for me, not for my body or whatever. Plus, we have the same taste in music and movies and…” A soft sigh left your lips as you shrugged. “He just makes me happy, I don’t know.”

Aron leaned over, smiling down at you. The beads at the end of her long braids clinked together as she shook her head at you. “Well, I’m very happy this Eddie is making my best friend all gooey and soft for once.”

You rolled your eyes but you both knew you really appreciated the affirmation. Sometimes you needed that extra assurance, Aron’s opinion being maybe the most important to you—besides your own. When you’d met her at that dreaded Halloween party, all tattered clothes and broken sobs, Aron was quick to help you. Without questions, without judgment. A stranger helping a stranger before becoming best friends within a week.

Before you could get lost in the cold memory, Aron clapped her hands and gasped.

“You should invite him to the party!”

You sat up, furiously nodding. “Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot.”

“It’ll be fun.” You nodded, watching as her nose began to crinkle. “Unless you sneak off to go make out or something.”

Your apologetic smile that turned a little too exaggerated made her groan.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, feigning a sensual tone as you made kissy noises and reached out to tickle her.

She hit you with the octopus (that poor octopus), causing you both to laugh. “You tell me about every fucking kiss, bitch.”

Grabbing it from her, you smirked and said, “And you love hearing about it.”

Aron shrugged. “True. I’m too nosey for my own good.”

“And I’m too honest,” you added, giving her a high-five.

“So, the party?”

You hadn’t felt this way since you were fourteen, running around the football field late at night with Trent Summers, lost in the throes of an unrequited crush. Lost in an all-American fantasy of dating a boy on the football team when you hadn’t even made the cheer squad. Getting your heart broken after he told you he had a girlfriend. You ended your friendship right then and there—resulting in you throwing a football at his face.

Mary Winston had been next, all braces and crooked smiles. Sweet sixteens and discovered identities. You’d met in the art room during lunch, fawning over some TV show before realizing that there was something more there. It didn’t last long, but you swore you’d love her till the day you died. And if anyone had access to your tear-stained diary, they’d know it was very dramatic. Very dramatic.

(Come to think of it, you’d felt something bubbly inside you for Eliza Roseheart in preschool. Playing “husband and wife” and pecking each other on the lips shouldn’t have been as fun as it was.)

Now there was Eddie Munson, the guy who walked you to class and got you coffee just because. At night, you hopped in his van and went on drives. An hour and a half of scream-singing that always ended up with feverish make out sessions by the dock of a lake, the windows fogging up despite the humid heat just beyond those doors. Gnashing teeth as you both giggled your way through can we play 20 Questions? and can I tell you another secret? in between kisses. Helping him down from orgasms after some whispers and heavy, heavy petting, caressing his face in your hands as you told him how good of a job he did. Tracing the lines of his face as you teetered in and out of sleep. Feeling his lips on your forehead as he helped you back into your dorm.

You were never one to believe in good luck. After years of being thrown to the wolves and caged inside a dungeon you built yourself, this nerdy little goofball had coaxed you away from the bars. Led you from a state of hidden solitude, only to welcome you with warm sun and sweaty palms.

All you knew now was that you wanted him. Always.

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie felt naked without his jacket.

As a matter of fact, he felt a bit out of character. A dark, dark purple Black Sabbath tee was paired with his regular black jeans, combat boots, and wallet chain. The same rings and bracelets.

But his jacket. He knew he’d have to leave it with this weather. Smelling bad wasn’t an option tonight, especially meeting your best friend. The less he fucked up his appearance, the less he had to worry about fucking up in general.

So he hung up his favorite boy and left his dorm with bare arms. Followed his heart all the way to your dorm.

Had your roommate greet him, a giggle escaping her lips as soon as she saw him. Aron, as he learned, was quick to pull him into conversation as you finished up getting ready. Though you called down the hallway to them, he still couldn’t calm his anxiety.

Meeting new people didn’t bode well for him.

And yet he was proven wrong—their conversation was as easy as breathing, exchanging thoughts on their favorite video games and how legendary Black Sabbath was.

“Oh, I like you,” she said at one point and laughed at the blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m glad you already know that’s a compliment of the highest degree.”

He’d thought he got his groove back. He really did. But then he heard your heels echoing through the hallway and looked over at your figure coming closer. Eddie immediately shot up out of his seat at the sight of you.

Your dress was one he hadn’t seen before, a satin black spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged your curves just right. A patch at the bottom showed a red rose, circled by a silver snake. Black heels and an array of rings. No necklace, no earrings. Smokey-eyed and gloss-lipped.

“Fucking hell.”

Both girls broke out into laughter.

He wanted to hit himself. Could he once, just once, keep his mouth shut?

“Sorry,” he added.

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Don’t be. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, so thank you.”

Eddie nearly missed Aron skipping off to her room when you pulled him into a hug. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting his arms wrap around your back. Even after all these weeks, he found that he could never get used to your embrace. Your skin against his, the fizzle of something electric jumping between your bodies.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you whispered in his ear before pulling back. He was pretty sure your smile was just as goofy as his. “I love your shirt.”

“Thought you might,” he responded with a small laugh. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but stopped himself. “Sorry.”

Your smile faltered as confusion flooded your face. “For what?”

Before he could apologize again, Aron was skipping back into the room and clapping her hands together.

“Alright, let’s boogey.”

You were quick to settle into the party, the three of you standing in one corner or another, laughing over really anything you could think of. Aron was sure to point out everyone who was cool and everyone who was not, giving Eddie a crash course in the party scene that always felt a little too high school for your taste. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with that stuff which you liked. There was nothing worse than watching someone lose themselves in fair-weather friends.

Two drinks in, Aron left to go find some other friends of hers, reiterating that they were part of the Cool Crowd. It left you and Eddie to your own devices, with your exaggerated bantering and light shoves. Touches that felt like electric shocks, the voltage only increasing with each jab. At some point, you had to wonder if that’s why you both kept doing it.

Then, in the middle of threatening to tickle him, you heard the starting sounds of a Bad Bunny song you liked. Leaning your head back, you let out a satisfied “Yes!”, watching as people quickly gathered near the speakers.

Eddie looked at you, confused.

You merely chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the small crowd.

“Let’s dance!”

Your hand grasped his over your shoulder, just like that night you met. It was a feeling like no other, Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest. And, God, he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

He was happy. He was having fun.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music!” he admitted loudly, a smile still plastered on his lips.

But you were far from deterred. “Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

And just like that, you were turning around and tugging his hands forward until they met your waist. Let yourself lean back on him, grinding your hips as they swayed back and forth.

Effortless. That’s the best way he could describe the way you moved, the way you never missed a beat. The bass pumped and vibrated through Eddie’s limbs, but you seemed to be one with the music.

Dancing wasn’t something unheard of when it came to Eddie. If he was listening to music, chances were that he was shimmying his shoulders or head banging. In a mosh pit, he let himself get jostled around, bopping along to the sound. He may not have had hips like Jagger, but he knew how to move them at least.

However, this was new territory, having a girl, having you in front of him, waiting for him to move. And if he was supposed to move, then god dammit, he was going to move.

Eddie took a deep breath before the beat slowed down. Letting his wired thoughts fade into a soft buzz, doing what he felt was right. Like pulling you tight against his chest and moving his hips at the same time as yours. Pushing himself against your ass, a harsh breath leaving his nose at the friction.

Sighing, you let your head fall back on his shoulder, a content smile lifting onto your lips. Raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck the best you could, rhythm never lost on you.

And it would be just so easy to…

But would you be okay with…

Fuck it.

Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to kiss your neck. Your next sigh was what officially turned him on, pushing him further into your heat wave. Licked a stripe up your neck and tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

Eddie couldn’t help the thought, the impulse creeping up in this crowded house party to move his fingers just a bit lower, to skirt the hem of your dress that was riding up with each swirl of your hips. He wanted you, cock straining against his jeans in near agony, continuing to litter your neck with love bites as if you were alone.

And just before he could get a little more bold, you were taking his trigger-finger hand and placing it on your thigh, so close to what he could call the inner thigh.

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He nodded. “Was already headed there, sweetheart. You beat me to it.”

“I took an earlier flight,” you joked.

A breathy chuckle left his lips. “That’s okay. That’s not my last stop anyways.”

Your thigh was soft, full, easy enough to squeeze. So he did, eliciting a high-pitched sigh from you.

A proud smile met your face. So you liked when he took the upper hand.

And, God, if you kept looking at him like that, he was going to start fingering you in front of every fucking person here. Maybe he would. No one was looking at you both, right? He could do it. Just a little bit. Just…just a little bit.

His fingers twitched, raising higher and higher and—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, snapping you out of this moment. You both looked over to see Aron approaching, taking hold of one of your wrists. “But I gotta steal her for a second.”

“Aron!” you exclaimed, holding onto Eddie’s hand as long as you could before Aron dragged you away. Sorry, you mouthed at him before turning back.

You couldn’t help your face growing hot at the feeling of your wetness still sticking to your inner thighs as you parted them.

She didn’t pull you far, but you couldn’t help how pissed you felt. Granted, you weren’t really pissed at her but something was about to happen and you’d been more than happy to just let it.

Eddie was finally taking the upper hand, doing what he wanted. Not just going along with what you told him to do. There was no blind faith or overthought. No, he was showing—initiating. It was euphoric. It was nearly orgasmic…

“What’s going on?” you asked, smoothing out the hem of your dress. And as you stood there fixing yourself, you felt Aron step closer to you.

“Listen, Sam is walking around, drunk as fuck—”

“Big shock there,” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aron let out a snort. “Yeah, literally. Anyways, he’s talking about how easy you are in bed and keeps telling everyone you’re here with Eddie to make him jealous.”

Sam Covington had been a problem for…a while. Maybe since last summer, when you were…friendly with some of the frat guys’ girlfriends. Got invited out one night and Sam was there, always staring at you from any corner of the room or finding excuses to talk to you. It was fucking creepy.

It was one of those things that sent chills down your spine, the fear for your safety growing with each glance. That voice that made you want to run and hide. The touch that had you wondering if you’d remembered to grab your pepper spray and whistle.

Usually, you were able to stand your ground and hurl insults he couldn’t fathom hearing from a woman. Even the last party you’d seen him at, the one where you had met Eddie…

But it didn’t mean that you felt any more secure.

“Him? Ha!” You exaggerated your tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Waved your hand around, desperate to stay calm. “What a fucking joke. He wishes.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at your mocking tone, taken aback by your blatant degradation. Like a mask had been removed, revealing a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth.

He’d seen your expression, your shoulders turning inward, like you were uncomfortable. He decided to walk over and, sure, it was probably rude. He knew that. However, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. He needed to know what was going on, pulled to you with some tether that he couldn’t explain.

But he regretted it immediately.

Aron chuckled. “If that ain’t the truth, girl.”

“He’s such a fucking loser, I swear. Can’t catch a fucking hint.”

Eddie once thought he’d let go of the anger he once held in high school. The defiant boy that was once riddled with so much frustration at the cruel hand he’d been dealt. The one that jumped up on lunch tables and screamed at whoever would listen. He thought he’d given up on holding onto the bitterness of verbal sucker punches and bruised ribs.

But it was creeping back up, that violent shaking that ran along his arms. The torment of those five brutal years of high school tingling in his fingertips as you continued to desaturate the vibrancy of a man he thought he was becoming.

“Like, why does he have to be so obsessed with you?”

You shrugged and his eyes caught the tail end of your eye roll. “Because he’s so fucking desperate for someone to fuck him. That’s why.”

And before he could stop his head from going there, he was back in that blistering July. The fear of being used goods clutching at his throat as he struggled to speak, struggled to find an escape.

“Pathetic,” you stated, voice thick with disgust.

That scorching July. Fingers trembling on the doorknob, his sweaty palm slicking it in sweat. Slipping.

No escape, no escape.

He needed to get out. There was no thought, just action. So, he turned and started stalking towards the front door. Voices in his head spoke over one another, flooding his brain.

Freak. Loser. Dirty. Good for nothing. Desperate. Trailer park trash.

Pathetic.

“Eddie?” he heard behind him, the sound of his name on your lips like a beckoning call, serenading him with its delicacy.

If he didn’t have a shred of dignity left, he would’ve turned around and come running. But he didn't, instead making a run for the side of the house. Maybe if he hid, he didn’t have to face your humiliation.

And, like he said, he didn’t have to run back…because you were already catching up with him, stopping him in his tracks as you stepped in front of him. How you did that in six inch heels was fucking beyond him.

Placing a hand on his chest, you asked, “What’s wrong?” As your eyes scanned his face, you added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

But he knew better.

He did, didn’t he?

“Are you using me?”

You paused, flinching away from his chest as if you’d been burned. “Excuse me?”

“Like…” Eddie started, trying to take a deep breath to keep himself level. But he was starting to falter, all shaky and desperate for you to get it the fuck over with. “Like, if we even fuck, is that it? Will the chase be over for you?”

Your face began to harden, something resembling fury clouding your features. “How fucking dare you think I’d do something like that.”

“It’s just a question!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m engaging in this relationship just to fuck you and leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed as his nostrils flared with frustration, both of you holding mirrored expressions. But yours softened first, the edges of your snarl quivering. Shaking your head, you took another step back.

“I like you, Eddie. Okay? I’ve liked you since that first night. We’ve been on, like, three dates now? And I introduced you to my best friend, for Christ’s sake. You make me laugh but you make me so fucking soft, it drives me insane. And those late night drives make these stupid midterms worth it.”

“Oh.”

“Did I really have to spell it out?” Eddie didn’t say anything. “I mean, geez. I thought I’ve been an open book this whole time. I’ve spent practically every day with you. Every night, even. Like, why would I want to be with anyone else? And did you really need me to reiterate all of that?”

“But you told your friend that I’m—”

“What?!” you exclaimed before shaking your head. “No, that was about this frat guy, Sam. He’s been creeping on me again and is spreading fucking rumors and I am getting literally so sick and tired of it.”

The dissipated anger began to creep back up at the thought of some douchebag stalking you. Who the fuck was Sam to not take a fucking hint? And why was it becoming so increasingly hard not to run back into that party and beat the shit out of him?

“A guy’s been creeping on you? Since when?”

You sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Eddie held up a hand. “Now, hang on. I am going to worry about that, because that’s not nothing.”

“I agree, but that’s a later conversation,” you said, pushing his hand down and shaking your head. “Get to the part where you tell me why you think I’d ever say that about you.”

Eddie was the one to sigh now, pissed that you had to move on but ultimately needed to confess. “I just never thought you’d actually be into me.”

“Why?” you nearly yelled.

“I’m just a fr—”

“Ew! If you say ‘freak’, I’m legally obligated to rip your eyes straight out of your skull.”

A breath escaped his nose as he closed his eyes and tried again. “You just…you’ve dated more people than I have.”

“Based off of what?”

His eyes flew open. “What?” he asked, unsure what you meant.

“You haven’t even bothered to ask me how many people I’ve dated—or fucked, for that matter.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “I’ve had one relationship. One.”

“Really?” he whispered.

You let out a laugh that didn’t match your exhausted expression. “Yeah, for a week until she got nervous about her parents finding out and dumped me. I was sixteen.” Furrowed eyebrows returned to your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned towards him dramatically. “What about that, huh? How many people have you dated, Eddie?”

Two. The number was thick in his throat, his verbalization swallowed by your question being, well, rhetorical.

You paused, turning your face away from the light. But he caught your pointer finger flying up to dab your lower lash line. “Like, I’ve had sex, sure. But it’s not like I ask all those guys to fucking harass me. I honestly don’t know how that became a thing here. Like, I’m just here. I’m just trying to have fun.”

The guilt was starting to settle in his chest. “I should’ve caught that.”

“I thought you understood me,” you said before letting out a high-pitched sound of disbelief, lifting your hands and letting them fall at your sides with a loud thwack. “Like, I’m not a slut or a whore or whatever they want to say despite it being the twenty-first fucking century! And I can’t even be with you without some guy trying to—”

He heard it before he saw it. A scoff that shifted into a sob as you crouched down to your knees, only hovering above the ground by your tall heels.

Eddie had never seen you cry, had never seen the façade so easily broken. This girl he once thought untouchable, invincible, cracking before his eyes.

Looking back to all of those moments, those numerous instances of harassment, how quick you were to send them a message. How easily it came to you, to throw your verbal and physical punches like it was nothing. Like it was a normal thing.

He’d gotten so caught up in how badass you were that he didn’t stop to think about how you felt about it. Or why it came so easily to you.

He crouched down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

He felt you lean into his hand, glad that you weren’t rejecting him. It was lame, but he didn’t think he could handle your rejection right now. Especially when you were in this state. Especially when he was the reason why.

Turning to glance at him through your tears, you said, “Eddie, that really hurt my feelings.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said truthfully. “If it means anything, I didn’t think you were a, um, slut or whatever. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me the same way.”

You nodded, sniffling while wiping the snot away from your nose. Never once did you pull away from his touch or grow cold. “Yeah, I get that.” You paused, your eye contact starting to burn him. “I’ve never done any of the shit we’ve done with other people. I’ve only felt that comfortable with you.”

“But you’re just…” he trailed before sighing and closing his eyes. “You’re just so good at it.”

When he heard a loud laugh leaving your lips, his eyes flew open, grateful to see a smile on your face. The laugh turned into a fit of snorts, leaving him to laugh at just how adorable you were.

“Yeah, thanks,” you teased, the familiar tone giving him the ability to breathe again. “It’s a litany of porn, smut, and—” You moved your hands up to mimic the shape of a rainbow. “Imaginaaation.”

The reference got Eddie laughing again, nodding along as he replied, “You could’ve told me you’re a dominatrix on the side and, like, I would’ve believed you. Scout’s honor.”

“Good to know,” you joked.

Eddie stood back up then, shaking his head as he reached a hand out to you. “I’m an asshole.”

You lifted an eyebrow, slowly shaking your head back at him before taking his hand. “You’re more special than you think you are.”

He lifted you up, grasping your palm in his as he brought you closer to him. Your joined hands rested against his heart, faces inches apart.

There you were, your eyes fully in view now. Watery, with makeup creasing along your waterline and smudged mascara littering your cheeks. Despite the quiet pain it caused him, he was grateful to get a glimpse at your beauty again, your attention still gutting him over and over again.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he could feel his guts spilling onto the concrete. And when he drew closer, it was made even worse as he felt your heart rate increase in real time.

And, god dammit, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie closed the gap and kissed you. Gently, tentatively. Let himself linger just long enough to inhale your breath before pulling back.

“My god, you’re precious,” he whispered, heart clenching with every feature you softened—the mask slipping. His eyes fell upon your lips, slightly ajar in shock.

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath hitching when he lightly pushed you against the wall.

Eddie’s nose skimmed your cheek, desperate to breathe in your perfume. One last whiff. He swore it. Just one more.

Just one more.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, inhaling your scent again.

It was the last time. Promise.

“Tell me again,” you pleaded.

He pulled back, catching the clenching of your thighs in his peripheral. A dangerous smile grazed his lips as he gave you what you wanted.

“You’re precious.”

You nodded repeatedly, doe-eyed as you begged, “Again.”

“You’re precious,” he said, hushed as his lips hovered above yours.

“Please,” you whimpered, legs squirming against his. But he pushed you further into the wall, your connected hands halting your movement. He could feel your heart racing furiously. “One more time.”

“You’re precious, baby.”

Before you could lunge at him, he was a step ahead of you, crushing your lips with his. Released your hand, quick to cup your face as you floundered to find somewhere to put your hands. Taking a page out of your book, he grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders.

A sigh left your lips at the movement, nodding your head as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. What you were nodding about, he had no idea. He didn’t have the ability to have thoughts about anything anymore.

All he could think was more, more, more.

All he could feel was you.

He couldn’t help himself when he slotted his thigh between yours, earning a deafening moan that made him harder than he already was. You’d moaned, sure. He’d heard you do it plenty of times when you made out. But he was suddenly struck with how different your positions were now. And how he was the reason for it.

The thought drove him closer to the edge, roughly grabbing at your cheek with one hand while the other slid down your thigh, snaking around your knee and jerking your leg up to his hip. Your gasp made him even crazier, unable to help it when he pushed his thigh further against your core. Another wild whimper, this time with an edge of impatience.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes.”

If Eddie had the confidence, he’d take you against this house right now. He’d slide into you with ease, Fucking those little sounds out of you, the ones he dreamed about at night. The ones that would mirror the way you sounded right now, only intensified and louder.

And yet it was enough to hear your now quiet desperation, to feel your thighs clench around his leg, your soaking pussy dripping through your panties and staining his jeans with ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You nodded furiously, seemingly unable to speak as you gasped and chased his lips again. Ground your pussy against his leg. Impatient, hungry.

He couldn’t help but feel greedy, draping himself around you.

Let there be witnesses. Let the whole house hear him, he didn’t care. But those noises, your noises, belonged solely to him. Swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his body shielding yours. The vibrations pulsed through his cheeks and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

He noticed you continuing to chase the friction, rubbing yourself along the denim over and over, his jeans being ruined with every rut of your hips. If Eddie hadn’t been drunk off of you before, he was deliriously faded now. Because you were still going, no words leaving your mouth. Just whimpers and moans.

He wanted to say something, wanted to beg you to keep going. But he stayed quiet, knowing that you’d probably stop, keeping yourself from the pleasure he was witnessing. You looked like a goddess, eyes rolling back and, dear god, he needed to mark your neck again. He dipped his head down and began nipping at your skin again, frenzied at the reaction it pulled out of you.

The hitch in your breath caught his attention, moving his face from your neck to see your head thrown back. Your heaving chest was the indicator, the slow build of something beginning inside you.

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Without any warning, he felt your legs tremble before your cum seeped into his jeans. A cry left your lips as your breath continued at a rapid pace, sweat dripping down your neck. Eddie was quick to lick it up, trying hard not to get on his knees and lap up what was left from the source.

(He was just glad he had enough restraint to resist begging for your underwear to keep for later.)

(The one time he’s able to keep his mouth shut.)

One last whimper left your lips as you came down, chasing the last of your high on his leg before he moved it out of the way. Left a gentle kiss on your forehead before he heard you sniffle.

“S-sorry,” you breathed, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. He came back to the present, leaning back as he watched your face crumble. “Sorry.”

Eddie took your chin between his fingers. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

At first, you only opened one, like you were testing the waters. He chuckled, earning access to your other eye. “There she is,” he murmured, pecking your nose. “Why’re you apologizing?”

“‘Cause I didn’t ask you if it was okay if I did that.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pushed his fingers away, covering your mouth with your hand. Shook your head as you added, “I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Baby, I would’ve stopped you.” He moved your hand away, lightly stroking your cheek as he continued. “I was honestly scared you would stop.”

Your head cocked towards his, glassy eyes turned clear again. “Why?”

“‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum.”

A bashful expression immediately fell over your features, shoulders caving inwards as you bit your lip. You tapped your heels against the concrete, one by one, all jittery and shy. It was cute.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that, either,” you said. “But you just…”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, sighing. “You kinda fucked with my head.”

“Does that mean I get to finally fuck you?”

Tapping at your cheek, you looked away in feigned contemplation before shaking your head. “Nope. I think I’ll make you work harder to get to see it.”

“Nah, I could prove it right now,” he insisted, getting down on both knees.

You became flustered, looking at your surroundings before back down at him. “Eddie, no.”

He put his hands in a praying position and tried to puppy-dog eye you. “Trust me, I can make you do that, like, five more times right now.”

“Eddie—”

“And that’s just with my tongue.”

“Oh my God. Get up,” you said with a laugh, tugging him to stand back up. “We’re not doing this in public.”

Eddie snorted, a goofy smile meeting his lips. “Well, technically we already—”

“There you guys are!”

Aron’s voice snapped you both out of your delirium, bringing you back to where you were.

“Oh, ew!” she nearly screeched, eyes wide as she stared at Eddie’s jeans. “We’re in public, guys. Come on.”

When you both looked down, you saw your cum glistening across his jeans.

“I’m sorry!” you said at the same time Eddie said, “I’m not sorry!”

You immediately gawked at him and he couldn’t have enjoyed any reaction more. His smirk said it all, earning a quick whack to his shoulder.

“You’re both so horny on main. I’m never letting you out of my sight at a party ever again.”

thank yew for the divider @strangergraphics

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