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ghouljams · 1 year

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Alright more Demon!Darlings Au because I was thinking about it at the airport and typed this out while I was at the bar. Waiting. For 5 hours... Ghost’s demon’s name, a little bit of their magic, and a lot of me just vibing.

"Die, you there?" Ghost asks aloud, pressing his finger to his mic out of habit.

"Always," your voice hums by his ear, as clear as if you were next to him, you might be, he hasn't really figured out how this works, "what do you need?"

"Need a count on hostiles in the area."

"Parameters?"

"Hundred meter radius," he presses his back to the wall and waits, he's getting used to this. The loss of pressure on his chest when you leave, the warmth of your return.

"Four count 25 meters ahead, another six 50 meters to your right and zero behind," you pause, "nice work on that by the way."

"Thanks," Ghost checks his mag, crouches to grab the spare you offer from his shadow.

"Want me to drop 'em?"

"Negative."

"You never let me have any fun," he can hear you pouting, "what's the point of having a demon if you never let them do anything demonic?"

"Didn't ask you to tag along, you can shove off back to hell any time." Ghost nods, satisfied with his weapons check and lifts his gun to the ready, pushing off the wall to continue his sweep. You're more than happy to keep your thoughts on that little remark to yourself. Plenty of soldiers would love to have a demon, just because he's perpetually woken up on the wrong side of the bed…

"On your left," you whisper, watching Ghost turn and execute the target with brutal efficiency. Aw, you can't stay mad at him. "Stellar work LT, must have a guardian angel."

"Pushing it," he grumps, unloading the life from another two combatants as he moves closer to target.

You get the memo, less talky, more helping him keep his head. You wonder if any other demons have to deal with this or if you just got assigned to a particularly difficult human. Well, you eye his soul, human might be pushing it.

You whisp ahead, stretching out through the shadows to feel out positions and not to kill anyone, a real misuse of your power honestly, before reporting back to Ghost. He touches his mic whenever he talks to you, it's funny. Like you're going to talk over comms and not directly to him. You keep eyes on him, collecting unused ammunition from corpses and handing it up to him from the shadows whenever he reaches for it. It’s easy work if a waste of your talents.

But if this is how he wants to do things, you’re not going to disagree. You can give him shit for it all you want but at the end of the day he’s technically in command. You wonder if other demons have this much trouble with their summoners. You barely managed to tell him your name before he seemed completely uninterested in you. Now you felt like you were just a glorified UAV in his eyes. Hardly a decent prize for a man of his caliber. You’re sure he feels the same way.

Maybe he’s disappointed in you? Maybe he was expecting a different sort of demon, something less specialized? Maybe he wanted a hell hound or one of those idiots from the all brawn no brain division. He’s practically starving you of your purpose.

Your distraction has consequences. A lone man jumping from a shadowing hiding spot to attach Ghost from behind. You feel him as soon as his feet hit the floor, already vibrating on the edge of violent impact. This is what you’re made for.

Ghost is just a moment too slow, the enemy combatant already halfway towards bashing his skull with the butt of their rifle. Thankfully you have no problem with reaction times. Flicking your wrist to direct you magic, and Ghost’s shadow to do the one thing you’re best at. A long needle of inky shadow pierces through their neck straight through the back of their skull. The man chokes and gurgles blood, dropping his gun to claw and grasp at your construct. Ghost has his knife drawn, you imagine it was with the intent to enact a similar violence. He glances down at the blade, your eyes blinking back at him curiously through the reflection on metal.

“What else can you do?” He asks, professional curiosity coloring his tone more than he’d care to admit. You feel your lips curl into a grin. You’d been hoping he’d ask.

#demon!Darling au #oc: Die #in my head she sounds like Maria from bullet train #just a calming voice in Ghost's ear/head giving him directions #Ghost feed your damn demon can't you see she's starving with bloodlust?#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #x reader #although not much romance here #they're just getting used to each other #Ghost thinks Die is a shitty consulation prize for killing so many people but it's only because he didn't read the instruction manual #Soap also doesn't read the manual but at least he listens when his demon yells at him #Konig surprisingly did read the manual and is very efficient with his demon

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deepouterspacecandy · 4 months

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The Wolf and the Fox: Part 2

This chapter is a teeny bit spicier than the first. I hope you enjoy reading it because, as always; I had a great time writing it. Please give me all the fluff. I really love it when writers treat strong female characters softly, especially as a woman who is heavily involved in bodybuilding. Cheers! 18+ only. Violence and sexual content.

While Abby may not rank you among her top three favourite people, she walks you home after your track date and she doesn’t ask for her jacket back even after the heatwave of the stadium halls strong-arm you into unzipping it. Truthfully, the two of you become too engrossed in debating the coolest places you’d explore if you weren’t bound by obligations to the WLF, imagining yourselves as carefree wanderers.

“I hear you, but I still think a ghost town somewhere overseas takes the cake,” you say, fumbling for your keys. “You need to think bigger.”

“Every place is a ghost town, though. That’s what I’m trying to explain. I can drive you fifty miles in any direction—boom! There’s your ghost town. You’re welcome.”

The conversation becomes more intriguing as you approach your door, forcing you to decide between lying about where your suite is and walking until you run out of things to say—or fess up to her after you’ve gone too far and need to turn back.

You fiddle with the zipper, twirling it between your fingers, while she shoots a curious sideways glance at you. Slow down or keep going. Stop or keep going.

“It’s just that we’ve never been to say—Japan or India—and the beauty of the landscapes and architecture alone makes your idea look like a macaroni necklace in a museum.”

“Have you even been to a museum?”

“No, but it’d still shock the hell out of me to find a macaroni necklace.”

There’s this funny thing she does when she’s really frustrated and confused - her hands fly up to shield her eyes, and she ends up doing a spontaneous half-turn, facing the other way.

“I can’t stand you.”

“Bye!” you shout.

You’re trudging along, not knowing where you’re headed—probably some random old lady’s doorstep where you’ll scare the living daylights out of her by pretending to walk in—when Abby wrenches her arm around your neck and yanks you into her.

“So, tell me why my idea sucks, then,” she says.

“Abby, you said Costco.”

She ruffles your hair and gives you a playful push, letting you find your own footing instead of stumbling into hers.

“Right. So, basically, a museum for weapons, food, and probably Lego—but okay. Totally lame.”

“Is that all you care about? Food and guns?” you tease.

“Have you seen me?” she chuckles, playing with her fingers in lieu of her missing jacket cuff.

She directs her focus to her feet, and a small, lopsided smile forms on her lips. A calm silence envelops you before you realize you’re probably making it harder for her to self soothe.

“Oh, sorry. Here,” you say, taking off her coat.

She casually shrugs, leaving you awkwardly clutching it between you.

“Hang onto it for me. It’s too hot in here,” she says.

She’s right, it’s sweltering inside and you’re certain you’ve likely drenched it with your sweat. It might do some good to let the thing air out before she slips it back on.

“Is that really where you’d go?” you ask, hoping the change of subject will ease the knot twisting in your belly.

You’re not convinced. Behind Abby’s eyes, there is a depth you can almost feel, despite knowing very little about her. It stirs a desire to get to know her further and to release some of the preconceived notions you’ve taken on.

Her soft gaze turns to alarm as she fixates on your thigh. Your body tenses as her hand moves closer.

“Are you hurt?”

Before you remember your thievery, you pause for a moment to connect the dots.

“Cherries,” you say, explaining the stain before she panics and drags you to the infirmary. “See?”

You reach into your pocket and pull them out, all except one squished beyond recognition, and present the jumbled mess to her.

The juices spill through your fingers, running down your wrist in a deliciously sweet stream. Hurriedly, you slurp at the sticky liquid to prevent it from slipping down your forearm to stain her coat.

“Why do you have cherries in your pocket?” she asks, as she plucks the only redeemable one from your palm and pops it into her mouth.

“Found them in the gardens.”

Humming softly, she swallows the fruit, her wicked grin widening as she spits the pit back into your outstretched hand.

“You’re disgusting,” you groan.

“And you’re a bad girl,” she says, gesturing to a nearby garbage can. “I should report you.”

“Technically, you’re an accomplice,” you point out, scraping the remains into the bin. “I’d think twice about that.”

You hold your ruined hand away from your side until you can get home to wash it.

“I ate the evidence. I’m covered,” Abby says.

With her perceptive wit, you can’t help but revel in her antics, filling the hallways with your shared laughter as you swap tales of the countless stealthy misdeeds you’ve both accomplished throughout the years. Isaac has given her far more reprimands than you would have thought possible for someone of such a high rank.

“This is me,” Abby sighs, her hand resting on the doorjamb as she comes to a stop in front of her place. “I figure since you’re being all secretive about where you live, one of us needs to call the shot.”

When she gazes at you, tongue mirthfully peeking between her lips, your cheeks burn.

“I’m not being secretive.”

“No?” she asks, her voice filled with mischievous skepticism. “Do I need to get you a compass?”

“You saying I’m lost?”

Her long, taut body flexes against the doorframe, and it makes your mouth go dry. The rough and tumble demeanour she exudes completely fades as you take note of how stunning she looks in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Given the way her eyes languidly rake over you, it’s impossible for her not to notice your admiration, causing your flushed face to become even hotter.

“Do you want to come in?” Abby asks.

To ensure your well-being, and for no other reason, it wouldn’t be awful to have a sink for handwashing. Perhaps some water to guzzle, mostly to avoid collapsing from sudden dehydration when returning to your barracks. It’s enjoyable to be in her company, and it’s a relief that the animosity has dissipated. But the longer she studies you with those intelligent blue eyes, the harder it becomes to control your senses.

When Isaac forced you together, you suspect his intention wasn’t for you to swing the pendulum all the way over.

“I should get home,” you say, loathing the words the moment you hear them out loud.

“Bummer,” Abby whispers. “Next time, then.”

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In the kitchens, there is a flurry of activity as the news of a potential treaty between the Fireflies and the WLF spreads. Abby hasn’t come by to harass you for a few weeks, and you hope it’s because Isaac has her swamped with work, not because she’s purposely avoiding you.

You can’t even fathom the darker possibilities that arise from her absence.

No one in your circle has deliberately made efforts to find her, but if you’ve been going to the track every night after work hoping to bump into her, or discreetly seeking her out every time you finish a set in the gym, it’s something you’ll take to the grave.

Abby’s bomber jacket hangs forlornly on a hook by your gym bag, the sharp tang of freshly cut pine hitting your nose at the end of each day. Just thinking about wearing it around the compound makes your stomach churn, but you find comfort in having it around. In the off chance it makes her uncomfortable running into you with it on or it fans the flames of the rumour mill, you have committed to abandoning the garment by the door for now.

“I’ll take a hundred blueberry pancakes, please.”

The mess hall is now devoid of any occupants, save for the colossal tower of pots and pans awaiting your diligent scrubbing, enabling Abby’s gravelly voice to travel across the kitchen unimpeded.

“Strange,” you blurt exuberantly, pretending not to see her powerful form in the entryway. “I swear I heard a voice asking me for pancakes, but I just don’t recognize it!”

“Oh, I see,” she chuckles, her eyes sparkling as she moves confidently into your personal space. “We’re twelve years old now and Abby’s a spooky ghost.”

Your lips press together painfully, concealing a smile that threatens to break free.

“You have been gone a long time,” you say.

The sink is on the brink of overflowing with suds as you scramble to turn it off. The never-ending cycle of dirty dishes continues as you reach the third round. Armed with a scrub brush, you start chipping away at the grime.

Abby joins you with no hesitation, despite the exhaustion reflected in the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay if you missed me,” she teases while rinsing a pot and splashing both of you with soapy water.

“If you didn’t spill more water on the floor than on these dishes, I would miss you even more.”

After placing the pot on the drying rack, she reaches for the next one.

“So, you did miss me, though?”

You shake your head, amused by her youthful pestering, and pass her another pan to rinse.

“I think I liked you better when you were mean to me all the time.”

You’re kidding around, but this joke seems to hit a raw nerve with her, unlike the others. Setting the next few dishes onto the rack, she lets out a discontented sigh and leans her back against the sink.

“I still owe you a proper apology for that.”

“You really don’t. I’m just messing with you. It’s water off a duck’s back.”

Abby’s fatigued disposition is visible as she fusses with the hem of her shirt, her posture hunched. Seeing her yawn, one that engulfs her whole body, you decide to send her home to get some much-needed rest.

“Will you come by when you’re finished here?” she asks.

“Tonight? But you need to sleep.”

With a tender plea, Abby reaches out and gently guides your wrist towards her, tracing the ridges of your damp hand with her thumb.

“Just wake me up, okay?” she murmurs. “There’s something I want to show you.”

---------------------------------------

When you finally arrive at her door, it dawns on you that it’s late and she might still share the place with a roommate who values a solid night’s sleep more than she does. For a solid two minutes, it prevents you from knocking, leaving you loitering outside. Once you summon the courage, you’re wound up like a spring. Your soft knocking is so faint that only someone with supersonic hearing could detect it, making matters worse.

A voice behind you nearly sends you through the roof.

“She sleeps like the dead,” Manny says, waggling his brows. “Do it like this.”

The force of his thrashing is astonishing, making you wonder how the door holds up against such abuse. For the sake of her neighbours, you feel an instant sense of remorse.

The door opens and Abby emerges, dressed in only her boxers and a sports bra. While she’s still half-asleep and rubbing her eyes, you entertain the idea of slipping away to conceal the restless energy bubbling up inside you. Manny is the first person she spots, and she immediately fixes him with a withering glare.

“You live here, asshole. Where’s your key?”

Manny sucks his teeth at her and jerks his thumb at you.

“Someone needs to teach your squeeze how to enter the dragons’ lair. Shame on you, leaving women in the hallway for me to rescue.”

As soon as her eyes lock onto you, they widen in surprise, instantly jolting her awake.

“There she is,” Manny snickers, shouldering past Abby and into their apartment. “It’s a miracle you’re able to get any action.”

Abby blushes from head to toe, squeezing her eyes shut at his comments, as she bashfully welcomes you into her home. You’re still reeling from the echoes of Manny’s noisy commotion in the hallway, making it hard to focus on anything he says or to fully appreciate how adorable Abby looks in her disheveled state.

As he shoves some belongings into his duffle bag, he continues, “I had no clue this was your thing, cuñada. Are you my competition now?”

“Stop talking,” Abby groans, glancing at you apologetically. “I thought you were gone for the night. Did your chick boot your ass out again?”

While they argue, you take advantage of the distraction to observe your surroundings and gather your bearings. Large windows undoubtedly invite ample pools of natural light inside during the day, complementing the open layout. Resembling a cluster of distant stars, the stadium lights glow in the night, saturating the room with a pleasant, amber shade.

Abby has spruced everything on her side of the room, except for her bed, which is cozy and rumpled. Above, she has meticulously organized her books, and you’re delighted to find a harmonious mix of romance novels. Nestled next to her pillow, one book in particular catches your attention.

“Have fun, ladies,” Manny says as he goes, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“I’m so fucking sorry about that,” Abby winces. “He’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him.”

“It’s fine,” you say, plopping down onto her mattress. “What’s this?”

On her bedside table, a stack of polaroids waits to be flipped through. She nods at you to pick them up and see for yourself.

The first shot captures a sun-drenched beach with boats lining the shore and log cabins in the background. The second is a medical bay, stocked to capacity, a fully equipped haven for healing.

“Who’s this?” you ask, holding up the next photograph.

“That’s Mel and Owen’s rug rat,” Abby says, giving your leg a quick squeeze. “She’s pregnant with their second one, if you can believe it.”

“How whimsical,” you croak, slipping the photo to the back of the stack.

Abby tries to conceal her amusement by averting her gaze, but neither of you can help but break into chortles at your pettiness.

The rest of the shots showcase a community that is unfamiliar to you, yet it appears to be thriving and operating smoothly. As you look closer, you notice the intricate patches on their clothing.

“Fireflies,” you say.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The rumours are true, then?”

With a tired smile, Abby rises from her spot to grab drinks for the two of you.

“There’s this thing Isaac wants me to attend,” she calls out from the kitchen. “A gala or some shit like that. Mingling with the rival to make nice and whatnot.”

“But those are your people.”

“My people are here,” she says, handing you a cup. “But the fewer groups he expects me to fight, the better. I don’t know how much of that I have left in me.”

With her old group rising from the ashes and becoming a formidable force, the pressure she’s under is beyond comprehension. It’s impossible to imagine that she hasn’t contemplated reuniting with them.

“Gotta run it by Isaac first, but I was hoping you’d come with me.”

Throughout the years you’ve lived under the WLF, there hasn’t been a single event even remotely resembling a gala. In an effort to prevent morale from completely fading, they hold markets for a week during the summer, providing a casual setting for people to gather and trade. Last year, they treated the crowd to live music for a few hours, adding a delightful twist to the event, but they tasked you with security detail, anyway.

“You’re asking me to be your date?”

“Something like that,” Abby grins.

“I feel like we’re going to give Isaac a freaking heart attack.”

“Lucky us.”

It is more distressing to think of her being taken in by the Fireflies than to avoid her at the stadium and still have the knowledge that she's nearby. It’s selfish, but it’s niggling at you. She's convinced she won't want to go back to them, but what happens when she sees their community firsthand?

“So, doing a little light reading before bed, are we?”

Even with her sleep-tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, she maintains an impressive level of composure as she grasps the significance of your findings. It’s not the content of the literature that surprises you, rather the smuttiness of it. When it comes to lesbian reading material in the FOB, the one that she holds dear before falling asleep is the most enticing you can think of. You’d be open to indulging in a thorough exploration of her theories on it.

With a shy sweep, Abby moves her hair to one side, baring her neck. While toying with the chain there, she inadvertently drifts to her collarbone, running her fingers along the hard dips and smooth curves.

“That usually goes under the bed,” Abby laughs nervously. “I passed out so quick when I got back. Are you freaked out?”

“No, not at all. That’s um—that’s right up my alley,” you say.

With a gentle bump, her knee meets yours, and she keeps it there. Even Abby’s prickly calves are so lovely that they send a frenzy of flutters through you.

“I wish you would’ve told me when everything went down with Owen.”

You considered it. But the gossip circulated too rapidly, and you had kept it to yourself until then. It didn’t feel like the right time to pour out your heart, especially if everyone would assume you were lying to preserve your reputation or something equally awful.

“Would you have believed me?”

“I really hope so,” Abby whispers, the weight of her optimism and concern stark in the deep lines that settle on her forehead. “If I could go back and handle it differently, I promise I would. I’m sorry that I made you feel unsafe around me.”

Her glossy eyes hold a genuine kindness that tugs at your heart.

“You’re scary when you’re mad,” you say, teasingly knocking your knee harder into hers, hoping to lighten the mood. “But I can hold my own.”

“I know you can,” she says, her voice transforming into a deeper, more authoritative timbre. “You’re the only person who has ever dared to go toe to toe with me like that. It’s impressive. That’s why I saw you as a threat, I guess.”

“How do you see me now?” you ask.

Abby’s gaze lingers on the shared contact between your knees, then travels up your thighs to your chest, before finally locking onto your soul.

“If you could read my mind right now,” Abby says as she shivers, her hands instinctively moving to find warmth between her thighs. She squeezes them tightly together as if warding off a sudden chill. “I’m not sure if you’d run or come closer. It terrifies me.”

The absence of contact leaves you with a peculiar emptiness, steering you to seek a means of reestablishing it. You’re tempted to inch closer to her, but the weight of the moment holds you back, knowing that any sudden movement would be irreversible.

“Which one terrifies you?”

"Both," she says with a breathless chuckle, her cheeks flushed.

“Well, good thing I suck at running,” you say, mustering up the courage to extend your trembling hand towards her.

Without hesitation, she eagerly reaches for it. The room fills with the choppy sounds of your breathing as her nails graze each groove in your palm, her fingertips tracing every thin line.

“I’ll only ever chase you if you want me to,” Abby says, lips parting to make room for her short, panting breaths.

“I want you to.”

Standing up from her mattress, you walk backwards towards the tall, backlit windows, carefully avoiding the dumbbells on the floor. Biting her cheek, she leans forward as you move away, tempting her to close the distance.

“I’m fast,” Abby warns, hands flexing at her sides.

“But are you clever?”

Resting your head on the chilly windowpane, you willingly make yourself a spectacle for her to hunt, arms stretched above your head in a deceptive display of tricksy submission. She rises from the bed with such slowness that it blurs the edges of your surroundings, shattering your anticipation of her sudden aggression and leaving you momentarily thrown.

“You’re cute,” Abby sighs, her voice barely audible as she steps closer to you, stealthier than you’ve ever seen. “I’m onto you, though.”

“You think so?”

She presses her body against yours, gently pinning you against the window, her hands gliding up your arms and interlocking with your fingers. They go lax in her sweaty grip as every muscle relaxes into her warmth.

“I know it,” Abby says, lifting your chin with her knuckles. “Beautiful girl.”

“Kiss me.”

Her pouty lips glisten as she licks them, reminding you of the sweet cherry juice you shared. Lowering a hand, she pulls you closer, the heat of her touch spreading through the small of your back. The taste of her is somehow sweeter as she teases your lips open with the tip of her tongue, a constellation of bright sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

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idv-sunsxin3 · 4 months

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Horropedia // Hubby Headcanons

Note// I really got this idea from the moment I watched the corpse bride movie/ih. There are two kinds of marriage hcs,,, like real marriage and 'marriage', you know lol

I was about to post this before- until my friend beat me up to it...;;; so it got delayed weeks later. Her headcanons are pretty good tho! <333

___

// 'Official Marriage' HCs //

This kind of love story is... strange, in a good way at least.

Life with him is pretty much like a slow burn bonding from acquaintances, to companions, to friends, to lovers... And to spouses.

Horropedia views marriage as something far from dating or being engaged... it's a big step, being a boyfriend can be counted as a commitment if he contributes to the relationship as well, fiancé likewise but waiting for something even bigger to be executed.

But marriage... being a husband is supposed to be a sealed agreement and having commitment, intimacy, and passion between two people. He wonders if you both can ever will confirm if your love for each other is consummate. He is aware very few people achieved this. As others tend to get through struggles and even get through divorce.

Horropedia would cherish his time a lot to enjoy every bit of his moments with you, and he lets you take your time to move onto the next level with him.

I like to imagine that the engagement proposal just technically is during a pretty random timing-

Like something similar from a spy x family scene. While you and Horropedia were getting chased by the killer at a masquerade ballroom, he suddenly proposed to you in the lounge room you were hiding in. Using the ring of a stunt grenade before throwing it towards the killer that entered, along with the trap that was already set by him. Obliterating them in the process.;;😭

Idk, is just my scenario idea. Something more dramatic would most likely happen because of him. You know how he tends to bend the logic of physics with his gun many, MANY times before--

Of course, he has a real engagement ring! He just decided to keep it in his room, just in case something happens. His proposal may be sudden, but it was probably the only moment where he feels sure that he wants to go through the thrills and obstacles. Even if it's with you.

I feel like Horropedia would confess after like, 4-6 years of dating. Bonus if you guys were ever high school sweethearts before...- that concept would be so cute.

I swear, Horropedia is a bit uneasy about Honeymoons- he feels overwhelmed by the idea even if it just means some kind of quality time together but more ✨️extra✨️. but you later convince him that you both can just go on horror myth explorations as your honeymoon so he quickly went very passionate about that lol;;;;

At this point your whole marriage life has buzzfeed unsolved vibes throughout your scrapbooks.

Your wedding ceremony is actually quicker than a normal one- you just both took pictures and have some cake before going straight out for the horror by rented van or something dnfnfnn---

It's funny to imagine that things haven’t changed since the time you both started dating- As if your relationship has been always been this young and pretty carefree... It just feels like you're still dating but now you are using the spouse titles, a wedding album of your honeymoon adventure, a ring on your finger, and marriage papers-

Okay, some things are added, but doesn’t mean things have changed lol.

I feel like Horropedia is the type to rarely wear his ring- I mean, he would sweat bullets if he ever loses it!!! Not that it's expensive, but because losing things have always being something he gets nervous about,,, especially stuff that match with you and they are objects that remind him of you. So he either wears it like a necklace or keeps it stored in a bag or a cabinet at times.

Being married is a thing, sometimes living together may be another. I imagine scenarios either it takes a few weeks for one of you to move in to the other’s place or you both already lived in the same house when you were dating hhh-

Horropedia is not normal with relationships, he is aware of that. So the steps of intimacy may be seen as something you wouldn't expect and probably far from what you would usually imagine in a married life.

He is an easy-paced guy while being surprisingly faithful as if your whole marriage is part of his lifetime hyperfixation in some ways. He is pretty lowkey about it too during work, like he is not bashful when talking about you if his coworkers ever ask about you. Yet, doesn't mean he'll just spoil everything about you. He lowkey likes to keep you for himself before any proper introductions with the certain people at work- So at times, he just gives them the grin or changest the topic with another horror anecdotes session before they ask more questions abour his married life. /ih

He doesn't seem to be the type to mind if his spouse is not a great cook. He either just finds it okay if you both cook some decent food or order takeout-

Having a vegan spouse can be also challenging to him at first, but he can handle eating veggies once in a while for the budget-

Not pretty? Look at him, he is not even a star idol from a magazine! He already fell in love with your dreamy eyes and your smile, enough to lure him in and get him wrapped around your finger. A "beautiful monstrosity." As he would probably describe you./j <333

Not smart? I mean, he is a nerd. He pays attention to geometry, then he likes doing the math himself. He probably would tend to tease you for not knowing how to do the counting while calculating the taxes and bills... /ih

No matter what or where, there will be always someone who at some point would ask you two when will you have little ones running around the household-

If you’re perfect? You're perfect. He cherishes every second of your company,,, and that's enough for him.

...

"Oh...?" (^-^;

To be fair, Horropedia doesn't seem to like the idea at first. I mean, to fix the words- He's just, still considering... is not like there is much rush to do that. He tends to have his doubts too. Especially if that means there is the opportunity his future kids encounter those creepy twins that were used to be his next door neighbors....- that's the last thing he wants that to happen.

"I. Isn't that too soon??? I-I'm sure there is more we can do together other than worrying about our future kid's tuition...--"

I'm sure that time may come when Horropedia feels that he is that ready to have a family with you...- Is just, not in this stage of life I suppose;;;😅🥺

____

// On an established relationship, yet calling wife/husband as a silly nickname //

While there are no firm rules, I consider established relationship in my dictionary as a "dating after at least 6 months" kind of stage. So it would be interesting to imagine how Horropedia would feel if the titles of spouses are used intentionally as a joke once the bond notably seems to be pretty close and intimate enough to be casual about it.

Staying indoors is one of the ideal ways to go on a date for you two,,, horror movies while wearing cozy pjs, going through the recaps while sharing his armchair are one of the best parts of you spending time together.

At first, he felt weird when he hears you calling him your "husband" even if it was in a playful intent. It felt foreign, but it didn't feel wrong in his opinion either.

It took a while to get used to it as he also took time to hear it often. Becoming more aware of being called by cheesy, and sometimes affectionate nicknames since you started dating.

"Nerdipedia", "Dorkopedia", "Bob", "Silly Pants", "Babyboy";;;

Gosh, don't even mention about "Joshie"! He starts to blush hundreds of shades of red. Lucky there are times you both weren't in a huge crowd. Otherwise he'll die in the spot...;;;/j

But after that, he probably can't stop staring at you like the dork he is, whenever you address him as something more through your phone calls with a friend--;;;

"So,,, yes, Sonetto- I'm with my husband right now."

"..." (...what-)

"Yes, he is right next to me, holding My hand as we're watching the FNAF movie-"

"....?" (Huh- but I'm right next to y- I'm the one holding your hand, hello???)

"Mmm... Yes, any problem with that? Well, Matilda. Respect my love of my life when he's supposedly your co-worker- okay? Things will run smooth that way if you and Horropedia wouldn't act this stubborn;;;"."

"....!!!!" (I'M???? THEY'RE REFERRING TO ME OMG...)

"Alright, see you later- gotta resume the movie-"

"..." (I love this human-)

He really tried to pretend he was still watching the movie but failed because his eyes were trembling, fingers fidgeting, and you could notice his cheeks radiating with a blush as his lips are trembling. Fighting back this huge grin;;; lol...-

Over time, he would slowly get used to it to the point he'll call you wifey/hubby in return, you both being sillies and all;;;

Horropedia probably didn't catch the domestic vibes crossing on his mind earlier, he didn't even pay a single mind about what the others say whenever they see you two bickering like a married couple too!

Of course, the moment he was put in a position, that's when his mind was completely blown.

Where peace was residing for a bit, you guys were just chilling on the living room during a day off. Him reading a horror novel wearing his funny slippers and all on the couch while you're napping, using his lap as a pillow.

The second he took a glance of your sleeping face, he slowly notices how strangely cozy this seems- a very domestic one....

'...Oh sh*t.'

That's it, I dare you to try and change my mind- but it will never be the same without Horropedia proposing you as a joke with a ringpop...

I guess like a boyfriend/girlfriend proposal. All with the planning and silly braining, for the memes!!!/lh

If Discord exists for him, he might even suggest if you two can get married on Discord using the wedding bot;;; 💀 Oh god.

Overall, a silly Horropedia liking the fact being called "hubby" is good in my heart. Hehe <33

#horropedia x reader #horropedia #r1999 horropedia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 x reader

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ghostly-wisp · 1 year

Text

MR. LOVERMAN

Chapter 6

chapter 5 | chapter 7 | series masterlist | page masterlist

︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

warnings — strong language, not proofread

When your voice comes through the line, he stops walking, Pedro is just outside his car. His hand is on the handle, but he can’t bring himself to move, he really didn’t think you would answer. He's glad you did, but it makes the situation real, and if hes honest he was expecting to be sent straight to voicemail. His stomach drops a little, but he takes a deep breath. He can’t make the same mistake he has before, he can’t ruin this one chance he has, if he even still has it. “Y/N?”

“Is everything okay, Pedro?” you sound worried, which makes him feel slight excitement because at least he can tell you care—you hear the ding of his car door opening from the other line, you're biting lip nervously waiting for his response, it feels like he's taking his sweet ass time – so you repeat, “Pedro.” he’s quick to respond now. “‘m here, sorry,” he looks around the street, the streetlight above his car is illuminating everything, he honest to God feels like Hes in some film with a fucked-up plot that he would’ve turned off by now. “Are you home? I need to see you.”

You still, Sam would never approve of this. They would tell you to hang up, to tell him that you’re busy, you can’t keep giving into Pedro – he's like some disease you can’t shake, you can’t let him keep affecting you like this – you can’t let him keep you wrapped around his finger, it doesn’t do you anything good. You sigh, “I don’t know if that's a good idea, Pedro, it’s late and–” he doesn’t even let you ramble the rest of whatever excuse you're about to give him.

“Please.” The tone in his voice is familiar, it brings you back to the day in your classroom – the crack in his voice and the desperation, you can only imagine that he's on the brink of tears. “Please, I need to see you.” Maybe it's your own desperation, or maybe you're just that fucking gullible, but you tell him “Okay.” Whatever Sam doesn’t know can’t kill them. You remind him of the address and your apartment number and hung up the phone. You're frozen for a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if this some sick delusion. You can't fathom a reason for this to be happening, why today, why now, and why was it so urgent?

When your music starts playing again at full volume, you're brought back to reality. Thougj rigjt now you prefer now to wait in silence, the music would only act as a distraction that you couldn’t have. What could this possibly be about? The thousands of scenarios run in your head—most negative—you’re pacing and picking up a couple things as you do so. Maybe this was a mistake, you should’ve stuck to your guns and told him no, maybe then you wouldn’t have this pit in the stomach. It feels like it takes him ages, but finally you hear that ear piercing buzz alerting you know someone wants you to let them in. You don’t even bother using your intercom, you just let them in. You’re on the third floor, and you’re guessing by the sound of quick footsteps that he didn’t even bother with the elevator. Your palms clam up and your pacing comes to a halt when he knocks on the door, it seems hesitant almost. Which is funny, considering he was just running down the hall, maybe he was second guessing himself or wanted to seem like he wasn’t rushing his way to see you.

When you make it to the front door, you don’t open it right away, you take a deep breath first, and you’re slow to unlock the door. When you finally open it, he’s got one hand against the door frame, and he's slightly leaning into that for support, you want to throw your arms around him, but you don’t. He takes his arm away and looks at you, panting softly. He takes you all in, like he can’t believe he's actually seeing you, it's like in his dreams. The ones that he remembers anyways.

There's a moment where the two of you are standing there, looking at each other awkwardly. You don’t know if you should speak first or wait for him – you’re the one to break the silence, inviting him into your apartment, and he slowly steps in and looks around – He missed your apartment, the atmosphere is more comfortable than Jennys – there's a faint smell of apples from your candle, the decorations are more welcoming, it feels like a home. He loved it, and he missed the fuzzy feeling it gave him. Pedro turns to face you again, watching you lock the door like you always did. When you turn to face him, you can tell that he was either crying earlier or he's trying not to now.

“So, what's up?” your voice is soft, oh, how he missed it. He thinks about how he wants to start his sentence; he used a lot of similar phrases the last time you two chatted, and safe to say, he didn’t want to repeat that conversation. He wets his lips with his tongue and his eyes dart around, his hands are suddenly clammy and he's sweating. “I was with Jenny and–” he watches you roll your eyes, and you start to move past him. “No! Not like—just listen to me, please.” bad start already, way to go, Pedro. He thinks to himself.

You shake your head—how could you let yourself think he would be here for anything good for you? Still, he follows you into your living room and you turn on your heel. You want to listen to him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear whatever story he has that includes Jenny, you’ve always made your feelings about her very clear to him, and he chose to hang out with her. Which you know is his choice, but you still didn’t want to hear anything about the art teacher, not after everything that's happened. Pedro stops walking when you turn, and it's a stand still. “She told me that she uh, she heard you and Sam...” you only raise your eyebrows, because you and Sam talk about Pedro a lot as of late. “She told me that – you we’re talking about getting over me.” with this, your heart stops for a moment, and you feel a pit in your stomach again. For no reason, though, because he should know how you felt about him. You basically told him, or were you not clear enough for his thick man brain?

“You know how I felt about you,” felt was a word you chose carefully, making it sound past tense, he catches onto it – but for the moment, he's choosing to ignore it. He needs to believe that he still has a shot if he's going to stand here and say what he's been dying to say for a while now. “You hurt me, Pedro, you ignored me for weeks because you were scared. And then you went into the arms of fucking Jenny. Of all people, her.”

It wasn't the fact that he ignored you anymore. It was him leaving, him going to the one person on the entire building that you felt so strongly about, she had been ontop of him since he started, there was no way he was that stupid think that wouldn't hurt—even if he was, the damage was done now, even if he apologized.

He frowns, he knew what he was doing was stupid at the moment—but hearing it said to him made it so much worse, like it actually smacked him across the face. “I know,” he says quietly, ashamed. Though can't take his eyes off you, he can't look away no matter how embarrassed he felt. “and I’m not going to stand here and make excuses, and pretend like I did no wrong, I fucked up. I know. I ran, because that's what I do. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel, and I don’t expect you to forgive me.” You only scoff in response, folding your arms infront of you tightly, but there's this sense of sorrow in his eyes that you can’t bring yourself to pretend to be angry with – his eyes can pull at your heartstrings in ways nobody else has ever had the power to. “N’ maybe I’m delusional, Y/N, but no matter how hard I try forgetting, no matter how hard I try to ignore it, you’re always there. Everything I look at, I see you. I think of you. It’s always you.” Your arms slowly drop, your guard goes down a lot faster than what you wouldve wanted. There's sincerity in his words that's dragging you in, you don’t even take a step back when he moves closer to you ever so slowly. “I’m a wreck without you,I don’t know how you do it...” When Pedro smiles, you feel this flutter in your heart— a sensation that you hadn’t felt in a while, and you think you missed it a lot more than what you thought. “Feel like I haven’t known you all that long and you’ve taken over all my senses.”

You want to scream at him, you want to tell him that he's lost his chance and this ship has sailed. That letting him come over was a mistake, lash out all your feelings to him — but you can’t, you won’t. Because you’d be lying. Your face is red, and no sounds come out of your mouth no matter how badly you want to say something. You can’t, because his smile alone is rendering you speechless. He doesn’t say much either, he reaches out and his fingertips slowly graze down your arms, his hands slip into yours, and there you stood – holding his hands in your apartment. You think, how much eaiser it would be if you were mad at him still. You'd rip your hands away in an instant, tell him to go fuck himself, but you can't bring yourself to be mad at him, and you're lying if you say you didn't love the sensation of his hands holding yours. People of held your hand before, and hand holding js pretty low on the romance scale, but it felt like the most pivotal thing in the world to you right now.

You never touched him like this before, it felt intimate, romantic, in a way that you hadn’t expected, sure you’ve hugged him and let the hug last for a second too long, you’ve kissed him on the cheek before – but this felt real, there we're no ifs, no possibilities for it to be misconstrued in another context. You could feel the tingling sensations your hands and your heart, and you don’t know what the next move is. He doesn’t either, because he only steps closer and looks at you, he thinks about leaning in – but he doesn’t, he had many different thoughts about how this moment would go – confessing feelings like this – it would be after your second date, maybe you’d be at his place and he makes a nice meal, or out at a restaurant or some other date, something that would stick out more than in your apartment after a fight. Though now that he's here looking at you, watching the way the blush on your face grew, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oh, how he missed you, he missed your face, he missed his lover.

You may have never been his “lover” officially, but might as well, because he never wanted to spend another moment like this with anyone else. He can’t bring himself to pull away, to say anything that ruin this moment. You notice how sweaty his hands are, which would normally unsettle you, but in the moment, you can’t bring yourself to care about it. Pedro’s stomach tingles, because he accepts, finally, that he can’t prolong this any longer. That running away will only make his situation worse, his feet feel cemented to the ground, but he's okay with it. For once, he doesn't plan on running.

He pulls one hand away from yours, which leaves this cold, lonely sensation, but it's rested on your hip, and it's when he does this that you know what's going to happen, too. Your heart feels like it's going a mile a minute, he's the one to lean in first, but you meet him halfway.

Your lips brush over each other at first, as if you’re both unsure if this is what you want to do in the moment, but it doesn’t take long for your lips to connect again, he's grinning into the kiss, but you could care less. This was the best feeling you’ve had in a while, the warmth that came over your body, the kiss is tender and delicate. Slightly addictive, if you're both being brutally honest.

His other hand lets go of yours, and he moves it up to place it on your cheek, as if to pull you in closer. Your hands are just under his arms. It lasts only a couple seconds, but you wish it could’ve been a lot longer, his he doesn’t take his hands away, in fact, the one that's placed on your hip slides to your back as if to pull you closer. The sentiment is mutual, because you don’t want to take your hands away from his either, you just slide them down to the sides of his stomach. You could feel the feelings of his lips on yours still, and it tingles. When he looks at you, he's trying to get a sense of how you feel, and you finally smile. He can’t help but thinks about how he missed that smile. “Will you please forgive me?” he asks of you quietly, “I want this to happen more. I want to hold your hand; I want to eat lunch with you and Sam again, if you'd let me.”

You laugh quietly, for once, you start taking each one of Pedro’s features to note, you’ve obviously never been this close to him before. His pores, the details in his nose, honestly you probably wouldn’t have noticed that he said anything if he didn’t raise his eyebrows in anticipation. You even have to think about it for a moment, “I can try to forgive you,” you say quietly, no louder than a whisper. “Sam might never be able to, though.”

“I think I can live with that.”

It's not until the following Monday that you get around to telling Sam about your reunion with Pedro. It's not that you felt like you had to wait, it was just that things were so good with Pedro that you wanted to stay in the blissful phase before you told anyone, but you figured you would have to because Pedro would come by for lunch anyway. So, you stop by their room in the morning before any students got there, “Hey, Sam, I gotta tell you something.”

“Perfect, I was just going to text you to come here— I saw the funniest thing when I was walking in today. What's up?” you shake your head, more intrigued by their story. “You first,”

They turn in their chair, standing up and closing the door. As long as no student looks in, they might have an idea that Sam wasn’t there yet, and also, they didn’t want any other teachers overhearing them. “I saw Jen and Pedro walking in together, right?” They say, going to sit on the edge of their desk across from you, now you’re nervous as to where this is going. What Sam might thing is going on, because whatever they say is going to make your news sound untimely. “She kept trying to grab his hand–and it's so funny, because he would move his hand away, and move physically further from her but she just kept trying. I don’t know what got into him, but all the sudden, but it’s eating Jen alive. I even saw her go up to his room.”

“You did? When?” you hadn’t even stopped by your own yet, so if she was still there, you wouldn’t know. “Just a little while ago, shes probably still there – I wonder what shes saying, I just want you Pedro why won’t you hold my haaaand!” They laugh at their own mockery, but once Sam stops laughing, they ask you, “Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?”

Though you can’t answer, you have to know what Jen is saying; you have to know if Shes still there or if Pedro delt with it. You knew that Sam could hear this later, and you can explain it. But you slip off of the desk you were sitting on and grabbed your bag. “I gotta go.” you say matter-of-factly, opening Sam's door; seeing of their students waiting patiently, and they seemed shocked to see you walk out of the room in a hurry. “I can explain it later, teacher Sam.” you say, mindful to call them by their professional term. You never felt this urgency, Jesus Christ, can’t this woman just leave you alone? Why does she have to be so fucking obsessed? You wonder what she might actually be saying–how Pedro must feel. Or if you’re too late, maybe she's already crying, cursing your name, you can't help but feel sympathy for her. You could've easily been in her position. It just so happened that your classroom was closer.

You turn the corner, and over the lockers you can see that his door is open. You can't hear much, which you assume is a good-ish sign, at least she's not yelling. You slow your steps, you wanted a feel of the situation first, so you grab your room keys to start unlocking the door to your classroom—trying to listen closely.

Pedro isn't exactly sure how he got into this situation, two women having feelings for him was flattering, but good God, was it awkward. Especially since he liked one, and the other sat in his room just about sobbing. “I just don't understand.” Jenny tells him, after he's explained why they can't see eachother anymore. He didn't want to say that you had anything to do with it, but that was pretty self explanatory, even if he tried saying it was "for other reasons".

“Jen, It's not you, okay? I just—I just don't have the same feelings towards you, you're an amazing friend, but I just don't see us working.” For some reason, even though this was the gentlest way he could've thought to put it, it ignited something in Jenny—she quickly stood, wiping her tears away. He hoped she would just storm off, alas it couldn't be that easy. “This, this bullshit right here, is why your wife fuckin' left you.” and no matter how much time passes, no matter how much the wounds of his divorce heal. It hurts, it hurts more when it's thrown in his face in a way. “I hope your god damn happy,” she yells across the hall to you once she notices you trying to unlock your door, you don't think she's talking to you at first, especially since you're in the hallway when anyone could see. It's not until you hear Pedro trying to diffuse the situation, and her hand grabs tour shoulder tightly. “Is this what you wanted? for me to cry? You have to have everything?”

You're trying with every fiber of your being to remain professional, not to give into the scene at hand. You don't want to get in trouble, nor do you want your students asking you about this later. You finally get your key to work and push open the door to your classroom. "Jen, I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't plan for this to happen, but I'm sorry it did." You say softly, "It's really not fair of you to throw his divorce in his face.” You step in to your classroom, turning around quickly so that she couldn't follow you in. “You've always hated me, and frankly, I never understood why.” Her words are a lot louder than necessary, and you're trying to make sure there are no students nearby, but it was probably too late for that anyways. “I'm tired of being nice to you, only to be handed back disrespect. This is over a line.”

“I didn't tell him to leave you for me, I wasnt evem speaking with Pedro. He did that on his own accord. You're making a scene, Jen, I'm begging yoh to please go back to your room. You've done enough.” Jen looks around the nearly-empty hallway for support, but she's met with a few confused stares, and Pedro, who still looks rather upset by her earlier comment. She doesn't say anything, instead, she storms off back the stairwell, hopefully, to her classroom.

Your attention turns to Pedro, and while he's happy that you stood up for him, he's very clearly upset. You go to reach for him—to welcome him into your classroom even for just a moment, but he wordlessly turns into his own room; closing the door behind him. Leaving you worried for him, maybe you had done something wrong. You quietly sigh, all you can do for the moment is hope he's okay.

TAGLIST: (also please read my comment in the comment section I think it's important)

@djarinsstuff @doodlebob-mp3

@wanniiieeee @zeyzeys-stuff @jay1bird23 @corpsebridenightamare @queerponcho

@peqchsoup @surazim @melanie451 @krisviciousx @elliescumsl0t @theanxietyqueen17 @vasiliki-koshka

@figusquibis @lothirielcorleon @maybedisaster @kpicard @becca193 @themusingkitten @caravelofthesun @coldheartedmar @zanzann @avengersfan25

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #mr. loverman #ghostly wisp #i love pedro pascal #fanfic #x reader #Spotify #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader insert #pedro pascal imagine #rpf #real person fiction

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akane171 · 6 months

Text

Things about Ron Speirs that live rent free in my head - PART II

-We can see 4 soldiers running to the Eagle’s Nest, but no Speirs with them at that moment. I’m headcanoning he was already waiting for them at the door, smoking his third cigarette and impatiently tapping his foot.

-He smoked so much, because he didn’t know what to do with his hands in social situations, don’t change my mind.

-That instant regret, when he tried to socialize in Carentan and told the soldiers they were moving soon. That last look he threw them always make me cackle. He was SO DONE. And probably didn’t even try to socialize for the next month at least.

-Him being: clean shaven with hair slicked back, with his helmet on and with ruffled hair falling on his forehead - are three different demons and they all hit you differently.

-It’s super adorable that he was the most soft-spoken and sweetest when he was or dead tired or drunk.

-And you know, in all the moments when he forced his facial muscles to smile - every time, somewhere in the universe an unicorn has died (Forced, not genuine. When he smiled genuinely every time an unicorn shat a granade).

-“Lieutenant Lipton! :DDDDD” *gross sobbing*

-All the scenes, with his side profiles, when he stood with his arms folded on his chest and silently judged the universe.

-His relationship with Janovec. Like. I can’t even imagine how hilarious it had to be in general xD

-The moment when Harry didn’t allow him to steal and he looked at Winters, like he wanted help from dad (someone else on tumblr mentioned it and it’s a perfect catch).

-It's almost canon (some deleted or not filmed scene?) that Speirs (and Jones) dragged drunken Lipton to his quarter. I guess, he would have done that after all the "officers chilling and drinking time". Dick would have done that with Nixon. (And they would just have left Harry behind, duh).

-“Hey, Liebgott, you wanna sit this out?” master troll strikes again :’) (also it’s quite funny, because real Webster really admired Speirs and said he was one of the very few officers he really liked).

-The pure admiration in his eyes for his commander, when Dick cancelled the another patrol.

-It’s quite interesting how fast he has learnt about the abilities of all of his sergeants and knew who could do the job.

-The way he taped Lipton’s chest with his knuckles, after Lip was promoted and that soft smile :’)

-All the pouts.

-The fact he had no nervous system in combat situations and then he was all meow, meow with people he liked and felt comfortable with.

-“This war is not about fighting anymore. It’s about who gets what.” On the funny note, it’s hilarious when we consider his sticky fingers here. On the serious note, knowing what happened next aka the cold war – he was totally right.

-The scene in ep 7, when Lip talks about him and he emerged from the fog like a ghost and then scared the shit out of Christenson and other poor souls. Poetic cinema xD

-The moment when he called God, because Lipton was liptoning and refusing to lie down, while being sick. (And yes, in real life he told Lip to take the ONLY bed. Lip, because he was Lip, refused, but then he was ordered, so he agreed… I don’t know what to do with this information, seriously….).

-That hand tremble while he was pointing the gun at the asshole that shot Grant. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, it was that thick.

-Also the line “When you talk to the officer, you say sir.” is so damned corny when you think about it, but because it was Speirs and the way he delivered it, it ended simply great. Also, A+ acting again.

-There is a lot to unpack in this scene, because why the ruthless killer, who was nicknamed “Bloody”, didn’t shot the bastard? He has had enough of killing? The prisoner was defenceless? He calculated the consequences, because he already knew he was staying in the army? All of this? Who knows.

-The fact we again, didn’t see his face for a moment, when he holstered his gun and said Grant was going to be ok - damn, I would want to see it.

(On the real side note, I think I’ve read somewhere (probably it was the Fierce Valour), that real Speirs said to Winters, that he didn’t really know, but there had to be some kind of doubt in his mind, that’s why he didn’t pull the trigger.)

Ok, the END.

It’s quite embarrassing how much time I’ve spent thinking about this asshole, but whatever.

Part one (x)

#ronald speirs #band of brothers #part II

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harringtonswriting · 2 years

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stuck on you | e.m.

summary: the one where eddie makes a mess trying to be the best dungeon master ever, though luckily he's got you to help him clean it up (though wayne's poor carpet may never recover) and help him bring his dreams to life pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader warning(s): light language word count: 2k notes: hi hiii!! sorry it's been a little bit since i last posted, life has gotten increasingly wild over the last week and i haven't had the time to edie or post this til now. i've got a few more eddie and steve fics im working on too, hopefully coming in the next few days. requests are always welcome too! i hope you enjoy! <3

...

There are certain things about Eddie that you’ve gotten used to since the two of you started dating. His love for metal music, the smell of cigarettes and his cologne that forever clings to his clothes and his van, the fact that the drain in your shower will never be free from his hair… the list goes on. But you love him, every part of him, and it’s been wonderful getting to know those parts, for better or for worse.

However, Eddie always seems to find new ways to surprise you.

Like tonight, when you got home from work to your phone ringing off the hook because Eddie needs to borrow your hot glue gun.

“Babe, it’s for a very important cause,” he tells you, “like, the most important of causes! Lives are at stake here.”

Fortunately—or rather, maybe unfortunately, since you just so happen to enjoy seeing his face—since you couldn’t see him, you weren’t able to witness the theatrics he was most likely putting on, though you could imagine them. Hand over his heart, his head thrown back, and the grin you know is on his face. “Lives are at stake? Whose lives?”

“Well, mostly my life, but that’s still a life.” You laugh, just a little, and Eddie does too. “I just need it for tonight. A few hours, really, to put some stuff together for a personal project. Mine had… an accident and now no longer works. Without potentially starting a fire.”

Which is not something you want happening—and you’re sure Eddie’s Uncle Wayne doesn’t want his trailer set on fire either. Not after the last time there was an accident. So you sigh, twirling the cord of your phone around your fingers.

“Give me ten minutes to find it and get it over to you,” you tell him, and he cheers over the line. You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, before packing up your hot glue gun and getting ready to head over to Eddie’s place. It doesn’t take you too long to find it, thankfully, and then you’re out the door and off to see your boyfriend.

The trip there is fairly uneventful, and before you know it you’re at his trailer. You head up the stops and knock on the door, and you can hear Eddie yell out for you to come in. You do so, slipping your shoes off at the door, and stop immediately at the sight you see in the living room.

Eddie is in the middle of a veritable maelstrom of arts and crafts supplies. You can see cardboard, paper, and popsicle sticks scattered all over the floor, and even different coloured glitter in Eddie’s hair, on his face, and stuck to the craft glue all over his hands. Which is probably also all over the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen, which you’re going to leave alone for now.

Eddie himself doesn’t even look sheepish; he grins at you, giving you finger guns as you carefully walk as close to him as you can get.

“Hey sweetheart, come here often?” he asks, and you snort as you drop the bag holding your hot glue gun onto the floor.

“Did a tornado come through here?” you counter, gesturing at the mess in front of him. It really does look like a craft store exploded in Eddie’s living room. Or, rather, Hurricane Eddie came through and got glitter absolutely everywhere. Thankfully he’s not wearing his Hellfire shirt, otherwise this would not be nearly as funny as it is. You really wished you’d brought your Polaroid camera with you to take some pictures of this, because this is a moment you want to keep with you forever.

“Oh, you’re so funny, babe,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “No, I… was trying to make some badass new dungeon maps for Hellfire tomorrow but I forgot my glue gun was broken. Which is why I called you, because aside from seeing your pretty face, I really kind of need to borrow yours.”

Ah, that makes sense. As the DM, Eddie was in charge of running the campaigns, which included bringing the maps each week. You’d seen a few before, but they’d been big pieces of paper he’d drawn on, showing you ones from previous years he still keeps in a box under his bed. But there’s more than just paper out on the floor now, so you’re pretty sure Eddie’s got some big plans for these new ones. You know Eddie never half-asses anything, which you love about him, but you also know it leads to situations like this. Which you will absolutely remember, and use to your advantage whenever you can in the future. Maybe Wayne has a camera somewhere…

You shake your head. You’ll worry about that later. Right now, you know you should probably help Eddie clean this up so he can start properly making the maps he has in mind. You start rolling up your sleeves and moving things around to clear a path on the floor to where he’s sitting, wanting to try and keep your clothes as clean as you can so you don’t end up like your boyfriend.

“What’re you doing? I appreciate you bringing the glue gun, but you don’t have to stay,” he says, but you shake your head.

“And leave you with all of this? Not happening. Go clean up, Eddie, and I’ll get everything sorted out,” you tell him, helping him up and shooing him off in the direction of the bathroom. He goes with minimal complaining, shouting that he loves you as you hear the bathroom door close behind him.

While Eddie is washing his hands and hopefully getting rid of as much glitter and glue as he can, you start trying to organize the chaos on the living room floor. You salvage what you can of the cardboard-glitter-glue mess (which Wayne will never be able to fully get out of the carpet), putting that off to one side before sorting everything else out by type; you put paper with paper, gather all the popsicle sticks into a pile, and even find a few bags of googly eyes and buttons that you put together, hidden under some of Eddie’s worn out notebooks detailing a whole bunch of information about past and current D&D campaigns. You can see some drawings he’s done, different notes scribbled in the margins, with mini maps and charts and so much more flowing across the pages as you take a moment to flip through them.

He returns with his boombox and a few tapes as you’re plugging in your glue gun and resting it on a small piece of cardboard to protect the carpet, and he puts it down out of the way but still close enough to reach from where he sits on the floor next to you. He slides a tape in, and you recognize it as one of his Led Zeppelin tapes when it starts playing at a low volume.

Eddie moves so his knee is touching yours as you sit side by side on his living room floor. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him through his jeans, and you rest your palm on his knee as it starts bouncing.

“So… where are we starting? What were you trying to make first?” you ask, and Eddie shuffles a little closer to you to grab one of his notebooks.

“Okay, well, at first I was just trying to make a few maps for the next Hellfire session tomorrow night,” he explains, flipping the pages until he comes to a page marked “RAVENLOFT MAPS” in his scratchy writing. You can see some outlines on the page, including one that looks like a castle. “But then I was thinking, well, what’s a map without props? And wouldn’t it be cool to have working doors and trap doors? And walls and windows? A 3D map would make it so much more badass. So I was trying to put it all together, but the only glue I had was that shitty craft glue shit that’s all runny and wouldn’t dry right, and it was right next to the glitter that I forgot about.” Which is where you can imagine the sparkling gold flakes you can still see in his hair came from. You let him continue explaining his train of thought, following along as he explains things and shows you different pages of his notes. You nod and make comments where you can, and start moving things around in front of you to make different piles based on what he wants done.

When Eddie finishes, he tilts his head slightly and looks at you. “So… what do you think?”

“I think we need to blow the club’s minds by turning all the great ideas you have into some new maps,” you tell him, and you swear that in the evening light spilling through the living room window, he starts to glow as he throws an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now you’re talking, sweetheart!”

And with that, the two of you start working on bringing Eddie’s ideas to life. It takes you well into the night to get it all done, but by the time you’re finished, he’s got three new maps with walls, windows, and even a few working doors and trapdoors (popsicle stick hinges work wonders). He’s got curtains made out of some old t-shirt scraps he had on the tiny windows in the castle map, and even some miniature props that you know aren’t your best work, but Eddie sings your praises as he holds them in his hands.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, when everything is finished and laid out to dry and set completely overnight. The two of you are cleaning up, waiting for your hot glue gun to cool down before you pack it up. You shrug, tying off the garbage bag in your hands and putting it in the bin in the kitchen.

“Suffer, probably.” He laughs, and the sound makes your chest feel warm as you stand in his dimly lit kitchen. “Think you can handle things from here?”

“You’re talking to Eddie the Banished, master of dungeons and of the Munson keep,” he says, opening his arms to make a sweeping motion as he gestures to the area around you. “‘Course I can, but you know you can stay here, too. It’s pretty late.” He isn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he throws his own garbage bag in the bin and moves forward to wrap his arms around you.

“I have work in the morning,” you tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he groans. You’re not happy about it either because you’re tired and would love to crawl into bed with your fluffy haired boyfriend, but you’ll have all weekend for that. “But I’ll come see you after Hellfire tomorrow night and we can spend the whole weekend together. Sounds good?”

“Sounds amazing, sweetheart.” He returns your kiss with one of his own, before pressing another to your forehead and walking you to your door. He hands you the bag with your glue gun and watches as you leave. You wave, and he waves back, and though you’re exhausted, a smile stays on your face the entire trip home, and you’re able to drift off to sleep thinking about how much you’re absolutely in love with the guy who got glitter and pieces of popsicle sticks stuck in his hair.

…

When you meet up with Eddie after Hellfire the next night, Dustin and the other kids take the opportunity to tell you all about the sick new maps Eddie had come with as they pile into Steve’s BMW, and how they can’t wait for next week to see what else he comes up with. Gareth and Jeff echo the sentiment as they leave as well. You wave goodbye, and Eddie is nearly vibrating with how pleased he is that the rest of the club loved the maps.

(And he doesn’t waste a moment in kissing you til you’re dizzy when he sees the big bag of craft supplies you’ve brought him, including a brand-new hot glue gun in its own carrying case with his name written on the handle in sharpie.)

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

Text

Whispers of a Ghost

Summary: You were Billy Hargrove's twin sister.

After recently being released from jail for a crime you didn't commit, your family moves to Hawkins wanting a fresh start.

However, you never imagined that your fresh start would involve monsters and alternate dimensions. But, the most surprising thing of all was finding yourself falling for popular, rich boy, Steve Harrington.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 25-

You froze for a split second, staring down the barrel of Jason's pistol. The weapon trembled in his grasp before you racked the slide of your own handgun and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit Jason in the chest and he fell to the ground instantly, his pistol toppling to the floor before you lowered your gun with a sigh of relief.

"That-that was way too close for comfort. Jesus Christ. Hargrove, you saved me again." Eddie said to your left as he slowly got to his feet with a wince.

"If I had a nickel for every time I've seen Y/N kill someone, I'd have three nickels which, I mean, isn't a lot but I can't believe it's happened three times." Erica commented causing the group to all start laughing.

It wasn't exactly funny, but you were all still in shock after everything that had happened, so you laughed because how else were you meant to deal with all this trauma?

"I can't believe the plan worked. Like-like it actually worked. We stopped the end of the world. Holy shit, we stopped the end of the world." Robin rambled, but you were barely listening as a sharp pain seared through your stomach.

Frowning in confusion, you looked down and shifted your jacket to the side, revealing blood starting to seep through your tank top and staining the white fabric a bright crimson red.

Jason didn't miss his shot.

"I vote we celebrate." Dustin declared from behind you.

"I second that. I could definitely use a drink after running from Vecna." Max responded.

"Yeah, that's a no. I'm not buying you little shits alcohol." Steve said causing the kids to all start complaining.

You briefly heard Eddie say that he would buy them some beer, but Nancy and Steve were quick to shut that idea down and the kids continued to complain.

You ignored their bickering and lifted your free hand to your stomach, your shaky finger tips coming away red. The adrenaline soaring through your veins from earlier was starting to subside and now it was starting to hurt. It was really starting to hurt.

You pressed your hand back against it with a grimace trying to slow the bleeding, but you could instantly feel the warm blood seeping between your fingers and you knew this wasn't good.

The group were still all bickering as you slowly turned back towards them.

"Uh, guys? I-I don't think Jason missed."

The group all stopped talking and turned towards you as you removed your hand from your stomach revealing the blood and they all simultaneously gasped.

Suddenly, the room began to spin around you, your legs turning to jelly. Steve was quick to react and rushed forward just as your legs buckled from underneath you.

Steve caught you before you could hit the ground and gently lowered you to the floor, pulling your body into his lap as he looked down at you in horror.

"I-I'm fine. I'm fine." You winced, trying to sit up, but Steve held you down.

"No, no, no. Don't move, don't move. It's okay just look at me." He quickly said, his brown eyes filling with tears as he pressed his shaky hands down against the gunshot causing you to groan in pain. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts, I'm sorry."

"Call an ambulance! There's a phone booth down the road, go! Call an ambulance!" Eddie's voice broke as he shouted.

You heard footsteps sprint out the room, but you didn't look to see who left, your eyes glued to Steve's teary ones as he stared down at you.

"Help is on the way, just hold on, okay? Just hold on. baby." He whispered, his voice trembling.

Suddenly, Eddie dropped to his knees opposite you, his own eyes filled with unshed tears as he pulled the bandana from his head.

"Here. Let me."

Steve nodded, removing his hands before Eddie bunched up the bandana and pressed it down against the wound causing you to whimper and squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

"Hey, hey. No, no, no. Baby, keep your eyes open. Look at me, Y/N, look at me." Steve instructed, his bloodied hands cupping your face as you blinked your eyes open, tears starting to fall down your face as you stared at Steve, trying to memorize every last detail.

"Is-is she going to be okay?" Max's small voice asked in the background somewhere.

"She's going to be fine. Y/N, you're going to be fine, okay? The ambulance will be here soon and they will patch you up as good as knew, okay?" Steve insisted, not taking his eyes away from you as he spoke, but you knew he didn't believe his own words.

There was too much blood, you knew that and by the look in Eddie's eyes, he knew it too.

Your body was trembling now, but the pain was gone. You couldn't feel anything and despite a little voice in the back of your head telling you that was a bad sign, you were relieved.

"It's okay. It's-it's okay." You whispered, lifting your hand and resting it on Steve's arm. "It's okay."

He shook his head, silent tears falling down his face. "It's not okay. N-None of this is okay"

"It's okay." You insisted, smiling sadly at him as blood started to trickle out your mouth. "It's okay. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt anymore."

That only made Steve cry harder, a broken sob escaping his lips.

You could hear Max crying in the background somewhere, Lucas and Dustin trying to comfort her.

"M-Max?" You called out, barely even recognising your own voice.

A second later, a flash of red braids appeared above you, her blue eyes swimming with tears as you smiled softly at her.

"I-I'm sorry." You whispered, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from her face with trembling fingers. "You're going... you're going to be okay. Live-live your life, kid."

Max shook her head, "no, no, no. Not without you. I-I can't. please don't-don't leave me." She whimpered, burying her face into your chest as she sobbed.

"I'm always going to be with you. Always. But, you gotta live your life. Promise me, you'll live your life. Promise me." You said, resting your hand on the back of her head as she continued to cry into you. "Max, p-promise me."

She sniffed and lifted her head, "I promise... I promise."

Lucas appeared beside her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away from you with his own teary eyes. Max turned away and wrapped her arms around him, muffling her wrecked sobs as Lucas held her.

"Princess..." Eddie didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to.

His hands were still pressed against the gunshot wound, the black and white bandana now completely socked red.

"Guess even Wonder Woman can die, right?" You chuckled softly which turned out to be a bad idea as you started to cough up blood instead.

"Easy. Easy. Just breath." Steve quickly said, his hand cupping your face again as you gasped for air, your breathing becoming harsh and rapid. "That's it. Just breath."

Your eyes flashed to Steve and you had to blink a few times to get them to focus. Black dots starting to cloud your vision before you glanced back at Eddie.

"Listen to some Metallica for me, okay?"

Eddie's mouth cracked into a weak smile as he nodded, tears and snot falling from his face.

"Stop." Steve suddenly whispered. "Stop, stop. You sound like you're saying goodbye. You're not dying. I-I won't let you."

"It's okay... it-it's okay." You whispered, resting your hand against his on your cheek. "I can- I can be with Billy. I can see.... I can see my brother again."

"No." Steve whimpered, choking on his cries as he shook his head in denial. "Just stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Stay with me."

You could feel yourself starting to slip away. Steve's face above you turning blurry.

"I-I love you, Steve Harrington." You whispered, your hand falling from his as the world around you started to fade into darkness.

"No, no, no, no. Y/N? Y/N?! Stay with me. Stay with me. Y/N!" Steve's voice cried before everything turned black.

Steve's screams faded out into the distance before the familiar sound of waves crashing on the shore reached your ears.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open and found yourself laying on the soft floury sand of California. The sun was shining brightly in the vast never ending blue sky above you as you pushed yourself into a sitting position and looked down at your stomach.

The gunshot wound was still there, Eddie's bandana gone revealing your blood soaked shirt underneath. It didn't hurt though, you couldn't feel anything.

Seagulls were squawking above your head as they flew by searching for left over food and you carefully stood up.

"Steve?!" You shouted, walking down the beach, the sand crunching under your feet with each step. "Steve? Eddie?"

Looking around you noticed that the beach was secluded. There were no normal sights of tourists with day-glo tans, no tacky food stands or chattering children. The beach was completely empty and you realised that you were standing in the gateway of paradise.

Were you dead? Was this what heaven looked like?

The entire stretch of golden beach was bare except for one lone figure in the distance, surfing along the waves gracefully.

If you caught the moment just right, if you had perfect timing, the waves would carry you on a ride of a lifetime and that seemed to be exactly what the person had done.

You watched the person cut through the waves with ease, soaring along the coast like they've done it a thousand times before and perhaps they had. Perhaps that's why the surfer seemed so relaxed and at peace.

You hadn't realised how much you missed this beach. How much you had missed this little safe haven that you and Billy once called home.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath. Memorized by the rhythm of the waves breaking on the shore as you savoured the salty air.

When you opened your eyes again the surfer was gone, but you could hear footsteps in the sand approaching you.

"What are you doing here? It isn't your time yet, Y/N."

A strangled sob escaped your lips when you heard that voice. His voice. And you spun around to find Billy walking towards you with his surfboard clamped under his left arm.

His face broke out into a bright smile when your teary eyes met his crystal blue ones and he barely had time to drop his board before you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Billy chuckled softly but wrapped his arms around your body and hugged you back as you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried.

His hair was wet from the ocean, the salt water mixing in with your tears as Billy held you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Billy." You whimpered causing him to pull away and grab your shoulders, holding you in front of him, but you just stared at the sand unable to look at him.

"Hey. Hey, look at me. Sis, look at me." He instructed and you reluctantly lifted your head and he smiled sadly. "It's okay."

You shook your head, "no, no, you-you died. You died and I couldn't save you."

"It wasn't your fault, kid. There was nothing you could have done and now look at me." He said holding his arms out and looking around the beach. "I'm in paradise."

You smiled softly as you looked around. It was paradise and for the first time, in a long time, your brother seemed happy.

"So, this is heaven, huh?" You said, turning back towards him.

Billy shrugged his shoulders, "I guess. But, you shouldn't be here yet."

"What?"

"It's not your time, Y/N."

"I died though. I-I got shot. I'm dead, Billy." You explained, but your brother just shook his head.

"Your heart has stopped momentarily, but you're not dying today. You need to go back."

"I-I don't want to go back, not without you." You said, fresh tears burning in your eyes.

You just got Billy back, you couldn't lose him again.

"I will still be here when you get back and I'll be sure to leave you some waves, okay? Just make sure you don't come back too soon, you got your whole life ahead of you still."

"I miss you so much." You whispered, silent tears falling down your face. "I don't want to leave you."

Billy smiled sadly before he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

"I know. But, you got a lot of people that care about you, Y/N, people like those guys who will be total disasters without my kickass sister to keep them in line." He said pointing up at the sky where the clouds broke away revealing the attic of the Creel house.

Steve was clutching your lifeless body to his chest, screaming your name. Eddie on his knees beside him with his face buried in his hands muffling his sobs while Max broke down in Lucas' arms nearby.

"They need you, Y/N." Billy said, bringing your attention back to him as he stared up at the sky with a gentle smile. "As much as I hate to admit it, those guys need you."

"But... but, I need my big brother too."

"Not anymore. You're doing just fine, kid... well, minus getting shot, I'm not exactly thrilled to hear that." He admitted causing you to chuckle softly. "But, you'll be okay without me. I'll admit, this place would be a hell of lot better with you here annoying the shit out of me. But, I only want you. Those guys... those guys need you."

You looked at the sky and smiled sadly before glancing back at Billy who caught your eye.

"Go back to them, Y/N. I'll be okay."

More ears started to rise in your eyes causing Billy's expression to soften before his arm tightened over your shoulders reassuringly.

"I love you, big brother." You whispered as he kissed the top of your head.

"I love you too."

You stared at Billy one last time taking in a deep breath of the fresh, salty beach air before you closed your eyes and let the darkness consume you once again.

Next Chapter

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #Billy Hargrove #Max Mayfield #joe keery #joseph quinn #dacre montgomery #sadie sink

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nightowlfandom · 2 years

Text

Us Against The World- Solas (Dragon Age: Iquisition. Fem. Human! Mage! Reader) Part 1/2

You're a slightly clumsy human with a heart of gold...and a horrible lack of people skills. Everyone, though their intentions are pure, think of you as fragile...except for one person

Contains: not canon in the SLIGHTEST because Ion feel like crying today, smut (in part 2), Reader whose shorter than Solas, smut (In part 2), references to nightmares/sleeping problems Gen Z humor, 21st Century slang/references (because why not and it's funny!), Smut (in part 2), angst, emotions, references to mental illness, I'm trying to give everyone who loves this egg some crumbs. (It's me, I'm 'everyone') praise for your strengths because you deserve it

Solas is my husband and I can change him it's okay, it's fine. I'm not heartbroken at all.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

X RATED PROMPT LIST| NON X RATED PROMPT LIST

Leggo!

...

It's a well known, yet unfortunate fact that however you introduce yourself to the world is how you are perceived and it's the persona you must stick to. Well, you were clumsy one. the girl who fell off a ledge, face first into the snow.

You had been walking, there was a log, then the next thing you know you went flying. A small group of people crowded around you and you had to brush off your pain and oncoming tears with a loud laugh and a snort. Ever since then, it was a known fact. If someone wasn't you, you were pretty much a lost cause.

Y/N was a cute little human, silly mage girl. She can't handle sharp objects without assistance. Cassandra, Cullen, Varric, Sera, EVEN Vivvienne (and considering her stance on mages, you were REALLY worried about that) all followed this fucked up code of conduct when it came to you. It sucked....it sucked Dire balls. You could have killed Blackwall when he stopped you from cutting open an apple with a dagger and did it himself, loudly stating "You could hurt yourself doing it that way."

"Mornin' Y/N" Krem had walked from his post over to where you were standing. You had been feeding your horse, Chestnut. "Slip on any puddles today?"

"Very funny." You sourly replied. "Did the big oaf send you on a solo mission to drag barrels of liquor through salty sea mud?"

"Don't remind me." he gagged. "I'm still not over last time."

"That's what I thought." you laughed. "And for the record, I'm wearing my slip resistant boots today. I had these made, strictly for this-" You began dancing in place. "See? No slipping today! HA!"

"Well, I'm happy for ya...I don't suppose your party will act any different?"

"Not in the slightest." You griped. "Imagine how much bargaining I had to do just to get a horse."

"I mean, a 800 kg death trap-"

As if being insulted, your horse gave a low huff, raising it's head from their obviously interrupted breakfast.

"Sorry buddy-" he laughed at your pet's diva-ish attitude. You watched as Krem gently combed his fingers through Chestnut's mane "But to be fair you did accidentally start a fire."

"It was aimed at the pile of wood meant for the fire anyways!"

"The fire was bright pink, Y/N..."

"Well no one told me that my staff was switched with Solas' and to be fair, I think it is quite impressive to start a fire with storm magic!"

"Which is why you aren't allowed to sleep with your staff next to you anymore."

"But it's still pretty cool." you pointed finger guns at your lifelong pal. "Admit it!"

"I'd have to agree." a new voice joined you. Speaking of Solas, he strode up with his hands tucked behind his back. "I've never seen something quite like that before. It's almost amazing to think no one outside of these walls could experience a phenomena."

"Heh, well...um-" you stammered. "I am pretty amazing." you shrugged, followed by a pathetic attempt to look casual.

"Pardon my meddling but I was hoping I could speak to Y/N for a moment." he looked who Krem who had been holding in a laugh.

"Right, I got some stuff to do. Drinks later?" he pointed at me as he began walking backwards, probably to pester Iron Bull or antagonize Cullen. You started wide eyed in terror as you were left alone. You faced Solas, trying to put on a smile.

"Um...hi?" you shyly waved.

"Hello, my friend." he greeted you back with a somewhat knowing smirk. "I hope all is well?"

"Um, pretty much." you rocked on the balls of your feet. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, yes I did." the much taller male smiled kindly. "I wanted to check in, and make sure your dreams aren't causing ailments again."

"..Oh, those." you sighed sheepishly. "I've felt worse...but they aren't bothering me too much." you confessed.

"Are they getting worse?"

"They're about the same."

As well as having slight troubles when it comes to staying vertical, your dream state had been suffering since you were small. It was one of the many reasons people kept an eye on you, after you made a campfire burn four trees down in your sleep.

Solas, being the only one well versed in this kind of stuff was tasked with helping you by any means.

"Hm, I feared you'd say that." he shook his head. "Ah well, I might have another solution."

"Hey, at this point I'll try anything." you pet your horse's head. "I don't know how much use I'll be if these stupid dreams keep getting worse. So you have a solution you said?"

"Hm, yes. I fear we must do it in private though, come to my cabin tonight."

"Can do, Solas." you nodded. As he stalked off, you released a dramatic breath. Not only was be ethereally attractive, but part of you felt like you couldn't breathe around him. "Tell me the truth, did that look bad?" You turned back towards Chestnut who had neighed through eating. "Great."

...

Night eventually fell, and the moon was nearly at it highest point. You stood outside of Solas' cabin, rocking on the balls of your feet. You couldn't find it in you to knock for whatever reason.

Solas must have sensed your presence anyways because before you could raise your hand, the door opened. "Ah, I thought I heard you out here. Please come in."

"U-um, sure!" you walked passed him into the warmth or a roaring fire. Solas really knew how to turn such a spot into a temporary home. His bookshelf, no doubt full of fables and tales as well as many different types of Codex.

"Please. sit." he motioned to his bed. For a while now, at least two days out of the week, Solas would have you in his cabin so he could somewhat 'experiment' with your dreams, must as he has with his own dreams.

"I was doing some reading, and I came across something that I am dishonored to say I missed."

"Oh?" you bought up your legs to sit on the bed with your legs crossed. "What is it?"

"Nightmares are a highlight of the things in our lives that scare us. You never did tell me what these nightmares were about. While it's not my place to ask, I fear the solution to helping you would be for you to tell me."

You frowned, looking down at your fingers. You dreams...they weren't about war, destruction or anything that anyone would really deem as worthy of getting help for. For a long time, you used to have dreams of home and how much you missed it. Then suddenly...

If it wasn't him dying in your arms, it was you dying in his. If it wasn't you dying of a broken heart, it was him laughing in your face. It was you behind a pane of glass unable to break it as Envy took the form of another woman and charmed him. It only got worse as time progressed. It then managed to turn into him killing you himself...on a good sleep.

"Is something ailing you?" he spoke softly, allowing you to break from your thoughts. "You know, I would never allow anything to happen to you."

"Solas, I can't tell you without risking anything." you sighed, standing up. "If I told you...I can't even imagine how little you'd think of me."

" Y/N, after all we've been through. After all you've been through, do you actually think that I'd ever think so lowly of you?"

"Of course not, but when you've been raised to keep your mouth shut because your troubles aren't nearly as 'valid' as everyone else, I have no choice but to think that way." you replied sourly. "If I tell you that my nightmares are because you-" you instantly stopped yourself from speaking, instantly regretting the words that escaped your lips.

"Me?...Your ailments...are because of me?" he whispered, mainly to himself. "Could it be?"

You watched as Solas began shifting his weight from side to side. Something which was very out of character for him.

"Solas, say something." you took a step towards him. "Please say something, anything."

"For the longest time, I've been having difficulties in The Fade, I can't hold focus well as I used to, I can't sleep soundly any longer. I've nearly succumbed to temptation so many times only to be woken up." he spoke in riddles again, much like he did when coming to a discovery. "Y/N...have you been having dreams because of your feelings towards me?"

"M-my feelings towards you?!' you repeated. "I-um..." you looked down at your feet. "I-....yes." you nodded.

"Have you seen death? Envy?"

You nodded again. "I watched it seduce you and take you away from me." you bit back the tears of embarassment.

"Did you kill me in any of them?"

"No." you found it in you to look up. "You killed me." You emphasized. "You laughed in my face, and told me-"

"Why on Earth would I ever love scum like you?" you both said at the exact same time. It was your turn to look surprised. How did he know.

"Solas." you whispered. "Have you been-"

"I've been having nightmares, each one worse than the last. All of them involving you saying the most heinous things to me"

"What?" you stammered. "S-solas I would never-"

"Allow me to finish. I fear that if I don't, I'll never get to say thing-" he spoke. "My adoration for your has manifested itself into fear. Fear that you would never-"

"Never what?" you asked.

"I could only dream of being in your presence the way I want." he spoke. "To look into your eyes in the way lovers do, to share intimacy."

Your words caught in your throat. Hearing him speak so highly of you.

"S-solas." you whimpered. "Are you saying-"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N. Why else would I put up with that mage hating human piece of-....piece of shit. That unruly, far too outspoken bull...and Varric" He stepped closer to you.

You opted to laugh at the lack of description for for Varric. Cullen and Iron Bull were a bit much, but you hadn't realized that Solas felt so strongly. Either you were blind or ignorant.

"I thought you'd never feel the same." he rested his forehead against yours. "I was swayed into thinking you'd never-"

"For such a smart guy, you sure are silly." you laughed sheepishly. "But I-" you couldn't help but laugh again.

"What are you laughing at?" Solas furrowed his eyebrows, though he wore a knowing smirk.

"Nothing...nothing at all." you shook your head.

"...I really want to kiss you right now." he whispered lowly. "If you'd indulge me."

"Might wanna hurry up before we both realize we're dreaming."

"Oh don't even joke about that." he rolled his eyes, rested a hand on your cheek. Solas somewhat uncharacteristically eager. crashed his lips over yours. You grew hot, your tunic becoming heavy. You absentmindedly held onto his sleeve in an effort to stay upright.

" A giant hole in the sky, an impending war, murky islands, and Vivienne's constant nitpicking....and this is easily the biggest victory of my life." you thought.

Solas broke away from you, breath every so slightly wavering. "I don't know what's better, knowing this is real...or -"

"Knowing Cullen is going to lose his mind when he finds out?" you giggled.

"Exactly." he smirked, kissing you again.

(PSA , Not making Krem romanceable was a crime because I love him....I will die on this hill

Smut in part 2)

#dragon age fanfiction #solasmance #solas x reader #dragon age inquisition #dragon age x reader #solas x inquisitor #dragon age smut #dragon age solas x reader #dragon age x inquisitor #fanfic #nightowlfandon #x reader

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oozeandgoo-art · 1 year

Note

You got any drawing requests? Sfw or nsfw? I’m kinda bored

if i'm reading this right and you mean have I got any requests for you to draw - yeah! i'm just gonna drop a handful and you can pick whichever catches your eye the hardest, i'll go gaga over any of them lol.

If you mean - do I have my drawing requests open and will draw you something - not right htis second, I'm working on the commission grind for the next couple days now that I've got my ability to focus back haha.

ok ideas;

Drag Strip and Wildrider fighting over a TV remote, but like real-deal, blood-flowing, armor-ripping, fingers-in-eyes-and-biting nasty fighting. optionally the other Stunticons can be sitting in the background completely disinterested in any of this because it's so normal. If you go this route feel free to make it as lazy and/or comical as you like, I imagine this is like an average tuesday afternoon for them - Drag Strip just hates losing at anything, "the control of the tv" included, and Wildrider has no sense of limits in my brain LMFAO it's not like either of them are really suffering for this in spite of the whole. nastiness of the fight

motormaster dying in a glue trap a la that one meme

Dead End drinking a Grimace shake going "i hope this kills me" with the most deadpan :/ expression possible

Breakdown and Dead End watching a random horror movie together, but Breakdown is like huddling under the blankets shaking in terror like a chihuahua and Dead End looks about two minutes from trying to fuck the villain, heart eyes and blush and horny grip on his thigh and everything

Wildrider biting clean through any assorted object that shouldn't be bitten through. Maybe he could be chewing up a stick of dynamite, I think that would be funny. Like it's a snack.

Dead End in like full suspension bondage with a blindfold on looking like he's either asleep or so relaxed he might as well be

Breakdown topping anyone bigger than he is in a completely unbothered and very skilled manner while whoever he's topping comes to absolute pieces. tiny shy dom supremacy. you understand

Motormaster fucking himself on a random non-sentient gun (probably someone else's) while moaning Megatron's name like the fucking loser he is. bonus points if it looks unsexy and like it doesn't even feel that good. because it is funny to me. you understand

wildrider sitting on a couch looking extremely normal but there's like a thought bubble and it's just "i need to eat pussy i need to eat pussy i need to eat pussy" repeating and filling the entire thing up while he's like. watching idk Nascar or Storage Wars or some other stupid shit

Vortex in bondage but being a giant brat about the whole thing so he keeps trying to get his hands free to jerk off but in the "neener neener i got my hands free, you gotta tie me up harder and punish me now" way

Dead End in a catgirl maid outfit but like in a sex way

Vortex and Swindle having weirdly competitive sex with like a ranking board in the background with all five Combaticons on it and Onslaught on top

ok that's probably plenty LMAO feel free to also mix and match or poke or w/e these until they're something more interesting if you're not really feeling what I'm giving you XD

#ask response #shrimpscream

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yandere-daze · 2 years

Note

Ok wait. The "trap for you" mv is making me go insane. But also, imagine the player in self aware au putting two characters that dont get along in that mv because they ship them, but inside the game, the idols are just dying inside, and praying that you don't play the mv over and over again.

I kind of imagine Rinne and Himeru in that scenario. Rinne's cool with it and would probably take advantage of the situation to annoy Himeru. Our dear Merumeru on the other hand is feeling murderous and just wants to throw Rinne off the stage.

Same here anon, I still can´t believe happyele really did that. Like do they not realize how much power they just gave players? And while obviously it´s super neat to put together some of your favorite ships, I also thinks it´s super funny to pair up characters that wouldn´t get along at all snflsefn

Can´t wait to pair up Eichi and Shu for ultimately cursed screenshots slnflbsf

gn reader

tw yandere, mention of murder

The player puts their ship in the Trap for you MV but the characters in question don´t get along at all

I think you mentioned two really good pairs for this, anon! There´s already some of that in the game for Rinne and HiMERU. One of my favorite parts in Paranoia Street is the part where Rinne puts an arm around HiMERU and he immediately pushes him away, resulting in Rinne shooting him awkward finger guns and going right back to dancing. Maybe my humor is also broken but that part is so funny to me skjnflbf

HiMERU honestly feels like he must have entered some kind of hell to be subjected to this. Just what were you thinking? He dearly hopes you just happened to put them in this situation because they were the strongest cards in your roster and that you didn´t do this on purpose. Surely you´ll realize your mistake and remember not to do this again, right? Please don´t make him ever do this again!

He wishes he could just push away Rinne but he doesn´t want to damage HiMERU´s reputation too much by causing a scandal like that so he simply tries to bear with it.

Rinne *would* be an absolute shit about this though, you´re 100% right. He´s kind of having the time of his life just messing with Merumeru, getting a kick out of seeing him so visibly upset but unable to change anything about this situation. He´s kind of all over him just for fun and is going to tease him about this entire ordeal even far into the future.

Oh god Yuzuru and Ibara, there´s so much mutual dislike and hatred between the both of them so they would both be absolutely flabbergasted when they´re notified that you put the both of them in a team to starr in Trap for You. Ibara specifically designed this choreography to draw in more fans but he kind of regrets the decision right now, now that´s he´s been forced to act so intimate with his greatest enemy.

Yuzuru tries to keep a normal face but his smile is getting very strained indeed. Why oh why did you think this was a good idea? He´s not one to question the master he is serving but he can´t help but wonder what went on in your head to decide on this.

The mental image of them kind of turning this entire thing into a fight is so funny sjdbld Like they´re just openly glaring at each other in moments where they´re supposed to act all soft and gentle. They just can´t do it, dear player.

I don´t even know if the game would let you see what is actually going on behind the screen so while you´re smiling at the way they´re dancing together, they´re like *this* close to throwing hands live on stage dfsjdfljnf

They´re just pushing each other around while pretending to smile and they kind of both want to just murder each other to make this stop

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whereyabeenloca · 2 years

Text

This lovely prompt was given to me by @idontcarewhatmyusernameis9 thank you so much! (So sorry this was probably not as funny as you had imagined, but I hope you still like it) If anyone has any other prompt requests, feel free to send me an ask or DM me!

Nancy finishes packing her bag with shaking hands, trying to bury away the anxieties that have been steadily building for over a week now. They’ve all been taking turns branching out from Hopper’s cabin, which they’ve apparently deemed as current home base for the apocalypse, taking turns in pairs. Just the absolute necessities and maybe one or two sentimental things, there wouldn’t be much room for anything else. Mike and Jonathan hadn’t wanted to leave Eleven and Will, who were both sort of on the edge of passing out at any moment as the looming black cloud grew thicker than smoke, so Nancy promised her brother she’d grab some of his things, and Steve had insisted he’d be joining her. She didn’t put up a fight about it, frankly she was too tired to argue, and he was good company, happy to just sit in comfortable silence with her in her station wagon while they drove out to the Wheeler house. And honestly, she was grateful for the company- his company, really. He had grown up so much in the past sixteen months, polished that heart of gold she’d always known he had and stopped fighting her battles for her, and instead with her.

Her parents and Holly were already gone, thank god. She had called earlier and swallowed the lump in her throat as she begged her mom to get them to leave town, lying and telling her that her and Mike were right behind them. Would she ever even see her mom and little sister again? Could she even trust her dad to keep them safe, with how passive and spineless he’d always been? Nancy shoved that aside, trying very hard not to think about the vision Vecna had given her, and resumed on getting her things in order. Guns packed carefully, clothes folded, she glances around her childhood bedroom, and presses her mouth together. What was worth the most to her of everything she’d called hers over the years? How could she put a value on eighteen years of memories?

“I can hear you thinking from downstairs.” Nancy practically jumps, laying her hand over her heart as she turns around to see Steve leaning against the doorway to her bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest. His smile has a twinge of sadness to it, those big brown eyes frankly heartbreaking as he takes her in. “Are you okay?” He asks, and that’s it. Nancy feels the tears welling up in her eyes and she presses the heel of her palm to them, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I know they’re just things and things can be replaced, but.. How do I even decide what the most important things are in here, in my house? For me, for my family, I don’t even-“ She cuts herself off before she gets too worked up, twisting her mouth to the side as she sits on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright, Nance. Do you want to just take a second and you can think about it? I’ll help you write a pros and cons list even, if you wanted,” Steve murmurs as he steps inside fully. He hesitates for just a moment before taking a seat beside her, reaching over to intertwine their fingers. Steve gives her a squeeze once, twice, and she does it back, letting her thumb trace over his own slowly. It’s muscle memory to do it, following the familiar pattern of his finger like she did when they were dating, she does it like it’s a reflex. He’s here, he’s not going anywhere, they can take it step by step, day by day, together. And her eyes flash up to his, both of them just staring at each other. She’s been repeating what he told her in the woods like a mantra in her head, unable to shake it off. A dream of a future together, where they were partners in more than just the end of the world but a life together, that he was willing to bare his heart in the most raw and vulnerable way because he needed her to know. There’s a thousand possibilities in his gaze, a hundred different futures, both of them playing a mental what-if game on their relationship. The future they might have had together before it got ripped away, what might happen if she just throws caution to the wind and leans forward, closes the few inches of distance of their mouths-

And then they hear the front door creak open.

The tension between them is forced to fizzle away, and Steve jumps up, looking around and grabbing the lamp on her bedside to yank the cord from the wall. He raises it up while Nancy grabs her revolver from the shoebox she stores it in, clicking off the safety and following right behind him. They lock eyes and nod, Steve creeping around the corner while she points the barrel to the floor, finger ready on the trigger. He turns down the stairs and raises the lamp-

“Jesus! Steve, holy shit, relax. It’s just me, Rambo, put the fucking lamp down,” Robin huffs, startled and amused. He rolls his eyes and Nancy breathes out a sigh of relief as she clicks the safety back on. “I just hitched a ride with Lucas’s parents and since you two are neighbors, I was wondering if you could drive me to my house so I could get my stuff.” Nancy clears her throat, nodding a little too sharply, and shares another look between Steve before going upstairs to finish packing. Shaking off the buzz in her veins and blaming it on the adrenaline of preparing for a Demogorgon fight, most definitely having nothing to do with the fact that she had almost just kissed him sitting on her bed.

#stranger things season 4 #stranger things #steve x nancy #stancy #nancy x steve #nancy/steve #steve/nancy #my writing #Stancy fic #Stancy fanfic

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panda-writes-kpop · 2 years

Text

Chapter Four (Avengers AU): Baby Come Back

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! I hope you've been enjoying the series so far!! ❤️ (Also, there's no GIF this time because my Tumblr app is refusing to function properly. I ask for your patience as I try to figure out how to fix this issue. 💞)

Avengers AU Masterlist | Masterlist

TW: Cursing, mention of stab wounds, Y/N literally gets stabbed in the back, brief violent scene, a bit of actual angst

"Y/N, I know you're upset, but I need you to talk about ten times slower." Dami places her cup of tea on a nearby table before intertwining her fingers.

You scoff before shaking your head.

"I was told that this would be a simple job, and it ended with me getting stabbed."

Dami eagerly eyes you.

"Did you get what I needed?"

You toss her the flash drive before rolling your eyes.

"Thanks for asking, Dami, I'm doing well." You sarcastically say.

"You know I didn't mean it like-"

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say." You sigh deeply before leaning back against the armchair in Dami's study.

I thought she had changed after all of these years, but was I the one in the wrong for believing so?

"The kids are asleep, if you were wondering." Dami adds after a moment of insufferable silence.

"Thanks for watching them." You mutter without a care in the world.

Dami has a mix of emotions on her face that even you are having trouble deciphering.

She seems sad, but there's also some pity and heartache in her eyes. She really must feel bad for everything that's happened between us.

"Come here. I'll fix up your shoulder." Dami gestures for you to come close, and you oblige.

"Be careful. I don't want to be hurt any worse."

"You'll be fine." Dami reassures you as you pull your tattered shirt off. "Dear God, that looks awful."

"Imagine being the one on the receiving end." You grumble as Dami gently traces the large cut on your shoulder.

"Do I even want to know what happened?" You turn away from Dami as she begins to work on healing you.

"Nope, but I'm going to tell you anyway."

"Remember: Get in, get the data files, and get out." Dami instructed as you pulled the skull mask over your face.

"Remind me, once again, why does an all-knowing sorceress need a data file from the FBI?" You loaded your tranquilizer gun before attaching it to your hip.

"It's verification for what I believe that I already know." She tossed you a long, black jacket.

"Thanks. I'll be back in an hour."

"Be careful!" Dami called out as you exited out of the front door.

"I will, chica. Don't you trust me?"

The cold New York air is way different than what you're used to, so you're suddenly glad that Dami handed you a jacket. You slipped the jacket over your shoulders, and you pulled your hood up as you walk along the streets of New York.

Street lamps guided your way through the dark as you carefully scanned your surroundings. New York is a completely different ballgame from your last place of residence. You can definitely think of more than ten people in this city who'd want your head on a stick once they heard you were back, which would be terrifying if you didn't have Dami on your side.

Besides, you had two Avengers on speed dial in case of absolute emergencies. Yoohyeon texted you frequently about the simple things in life, and although you hadn't told her of your trip to New York, she had no reason to be suspicious of you.

Siyeon, on the other hand, was a different story. Apparently, about a day after you left, Siyeon came knocking on your door at your old home. Upon discovering your home was empty, Siyeon dialed your number which she scored before your first date.

It wasn't like you could lie, so you said that you were in New York visiting with some relatives. It wasn't the truth, but you also weren't totally lying. Siyeon responded by asking you to be safe, and to let her know when you were going to be back in town.

The funny thing is, you weren't sure when you were going to be back either. You had a lot of ghosts chasing you around, and going with Dami was the safest and smartest option for you.

Luckily, neither of them had put it together that you weren't as sweet or kind as you seemed. They might not be able to look through your warm, caring exterior, but Dami always did. You didn't know if that was because of Dami's personality, or because she knew you like the back of her hand.

Both possibilities sent a shiver down your back, but you didn't have much time to contemplate anything else. You had arrived, and work needed to be done.

The job was simple, just like you thought. In less than an hour, you were walking out of that building with a flash drive in your hand. You had a way with computers that Dami was envious of, but you wondered if she knew about how you could easily decode people just like you did with a computer.

As you slip into the darkness of the night, you feel like congratulating yourself for a job well-done.

…That is, until you feel the searing pain of a knife tearing through the flesh of your back.

"Were you jumped?" Dami asks as she finishes healing your wound.

"I don't know. As I said earlier, due to my line of work, I have a lot of enemies around here." You explain as the burning sensation in your shoulder finally starts to fade away.

"Speaking of your line of work..." Dami trails off as she waits for you to answer.

"No, Dami, I didn't kill anyone. I haven't taken a life since I handed you that loaded gun a few months ago. That was the last bounty I ever took." You explain before sitting up. "I've just been doing some odd jobs to keep myself afloat until you came along."

"What about Agent 13?"

"That shit was personal. They got what was coming to them. ...I hope that their jail bed has bed bugs in it." You mutter the last part before choosing to relax your aching, sore muscles against the chair.

"Spiteful as ever, I see." Dami sighs before leaning back.

"It's not like you've done much better." You take a sip of tea as Dami glances at you.

"What do you mean?"

"Showing up at your ex-fiancé's apartment long after you broke up with them doesn't exactly seem like a power move to me."

"I needed help and you were the only person I could trust-"

"Yeah, and then you left, just like everyone else. You know who didn't leave?" Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as her name is about to fall from the tip of your tongue.

Dami also knows what name is about to come out of your mouth, but you don't have the strength to say it.

"She never, ever made me feel like I was worthless. Her and those kids were the only good things in my life, and I nearly had it all taken away from me because someone wanted my head on a fucking platter!"

Dami's completely speechless, but you're far from being done with your tangent.

"Do you have any idea what it's like, knowing that you were supposed to die instead of someone else? Do you know how that kills someone from the inside-out? So, pardon me, if I'm spiteful, or rude, or a plain, cold-hearted bitch, because I think I've earned the right to feel those emotions."

"Y/N-"

"Don't." You raise your hand to silence Dami. "You can keep whatever philosophical quote or other bullshit that you're about to say in your head. I don't want to hear it."

Dami doesn't say another word as you grab the remnants of your shirt, if you can even call it a shirt at this point.

"I'll talk to you in the morning." You grumble before placing the tea cup down and standing up. "Good night."

Dami doesn't dare to answer you as you trudge down the hallway to your bedroom. You're too tired to check on the kids before your body hits the bedsheets, and you're out before you have the chance to change into something more comfortable than your "work" clothes.

The strange sensation of a foreign object in your body caught you off-guard for a moment, but not too long as you're able to dodge another strike from your attacker. You stumbled farther away as you attempted to muster the most innocent look you can manage.

"Listen," You panted as you turn around, "you've got to let me go. You've got the wrong person."

You recognized the toothy grin of the person in front of you. You cursed about a thousand times in your head as they approached you.

"Oh, I think I know exactly who's in front of me, Rosa."

The way that they say your name made you shiver, but you're in too much pain to do anything. You could only watch and anticipate death as they closed in on you.

The mobster was nearly close enough to do more harm, but not before a high-pitched, feminine voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Hey, get away from them!!!"

"What the hell-"

Your savior, who was nothing more than a girl dressed head-to-toe in red spandex, jumped and landed in front of you.

Weak from pain and blood loss, you, completely defenseless, crumbled to the ground in agony.

You watched as webs come shooting out of the girl's wrists. You're disgusted yet intrigued as the webs hit their target, which attached the mobster to a nearby street post.

The girl calmly walked forward before snatching the gun from the flailing person.

"Don't bother moving. You'll be nice and safe, at least until the police get you." She teases before throwing the gun aside.

"Why you little-"

She shot another web which lands and covers their mouth. You laughed weakly as her attention turned to you.

"Are you alright?" She walked towards you as your vision began to blur.

"Besides the knife in my back, I'm just fine." You coughed up a little blood, knowing it's familiar metallic taste, before spitting it out on the ground.

"Oh shit, there really is a knife in your back! Do you want me to take it out?"

You grumble as you fight to stay conscious.

"No, I just need help standing up."

Without hesitation, the masked heroine looped an arm around your waist before hauling you off the ground.

"You're pretty strong for a little thing." You blatantly commented as you leaned against her for support.

"I guess that's one of the benefits of being bitten by a radioactive spider."

You might have been out of it, but surely you weren't so far gone from reality to imagine something like that.

"I beg your pardon?"

She laughed before shaking her head.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

You answered her by shaking your head, which prompted her to pull off her mask.

A beautiful girl with brown eyes and short black hair smiled at you. Somehow, it seemed fitting that she would be so willing to help you after you saw her true appearance.

"My name’s Spider-Girl… Well, actually, that's my fake 'superhero' name," Gahyeon confessed before nervously grabbing her neck with her free hand, "but you can call me Gahyeon."

You wanted to pull off your own mask, but you realized that you left your mask at the computer desk of the building you were just at. You scolded yourself for being sloppy as you try to focus on Gahyeon.

"Y/N," You're able to get out as another wave of pain hit you, "You can call me Y/N."

"You're in the best of hands, Y/N! You can trust me to take care of you." Gahyeon cheerfully said before helping you walk forward, one step at a time.

Even though you haven't known her for long, you're able to tell that every word she said is the absolute truth.

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wiltf · 2 years

Text

manny wasn’t actually expecting the five foot nothing to make it back alive. worse for wear, heavy boots trudging up dinky, stinking up a storm. but alive. and there was a feeling in his gut then, that only grew at the sight of twisted skin along the temple, that someone had fucked with something fierce.

instead, he gets a companion as the sunsets. a twinkle in the sky that damn well could’ve been a rocket. sarsaparilla and narrowed eyes watching out over the horizon. that gets him talking. bite and bile and manny was sure that no one expected the dead to keep on. finger that points out, north by northwest. straight into one hell of a shithole.

gets a few words out, at least. thanks, mostly. wrapped up in a gravelly voice, accompanied by boots on a stool. a sigh, like everything left in the courier might actually leave her. there’ll be a stain there, where the sniper should’ve been.

such a thought gives manny that little twitch. back of his brain, all a-misfiring, as he expected boone back. sitting where he should be. “if it’s not too much to ask…”

the look says, something else? brows raised and perhaps a touch of judgement. manny expected that. what he didn’t expect was the roll of the wrist. the keep going. a “midaswell,” coming from around the rim of another bottle.

“my friend’s been missing for a couple of days now.”

“’s’not unusual.” a snort. cap rolling over knuckles now. manny didn’t know much, but he knew how to read people.

and that was a sign of interest, he was sure of it.

“sniper, first recon. went that way,” south-east, the finger travels now. “dead into legion heartland. didn’t say much when he left, but—”

“said it yourself. ‘dead’.” the cap stops, caught between middle and index. manny looks up from it, to find a pair of dark eyes.

“boone’s too stubborn to let himself get killed by a bunch of legion fuckers, and if he took some down, we would’ve heard about it.”

it’s not crickets that sing in novac. manny had only ever really read about them in books that had been held together by willpower, when they’d been at camp. could only imagine it might’ve been the high pitched whine out there, past the hills and dirt. helps him focus, as he holds the courier’s heavy gaze. she’s a funny one; he doesn’t particularly like her much.

but the cap starts moving again. “what was he looking for?”

“why do you think he was looking for something?”

the courier snorts, in a way that manny had found people from the strip did. reminded him of carla (and he got why everything went all grainy up in his head then, when he thought of that sneer). “ain’t no one stupid enough to go to cottonwood cove without a reason.”

“how do you know it’s cottonwood cove?”

“said so yourself: legion heartland.”

that grainy feeling turns into something. cooler. sticky. like there was no blood but he couldn’t move. first kill adrenaline. prey fear. manny swallows his own tongue, trying to not croak out a “you legion?”

didn’t check that shit out. just took the fucking hand for the ghouls and their rocket. cottonwood cove. maybe the legion figured out where boone was from. needed new tactics, probably. a hundred different thoughts, as manny tried to work out why his gun was within reach, but his arm just couldn’t quite cooperate.

it would’ve been seconds. it felt like hours. whether or not the courier noticed was another thing, with how she gets to her feet. “fuckin’ legion. fuckin’ ncr. i got no time for that shit r’now.” hands on her hips, and she stretches back, until an incredibly audible click snaps them both out.

manny can only manage a, “right.” what else was he supposed to say. clamped that tongue down on the ncr, but whatever. not legion. maybe he might still sleep with a gun under his pillow, but he was a little safer now.

“your friend. he got a wife?”

“yeah, her name’s carla. went missing a couple of days before him. folks think she upped and left him for the strip. but… boone. he thought something else happened.”

more joints click and crack and when she’s pushing against her chin, until her neck let loose, manny recognised this. thinking. debating. an officer he knew did the same thing, claiming the release on the joints gave him all kinds of ideas. no surprise when he ended up getting taken out by raiders, but that was all because of a stupid plan. and whether manny wanted to admit it, he might’ve just planted a stupid plan in that head over there.

that scarred, scarred head.

“i’ll sleep on it.”

it was not a final answer. not a yes, not a no. manny can only nod mutely, as the courier disappears down the steps. turn back towards the horizon once more, how it was dipped in a dark blue. telling him something was wrong. out there.

and manny sat back down, binoculars in hand, deciding it had nothing to do with him, as his heart finally started to rest.

#fnv #oc: eve #ch: manny vargas #post: fanfic

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graciegoeskrazy · 1 year

Note

Hey!!!!!

Ok first things first I love your stories normally I am not a fan of angst but the way you write your angst stories are amazing!!!! Literally had me crying lol 😂

I was wondering if you could write a Seirra Six/Court Gentry x daughter??? I have never read one before

Maybe something like she is around 5 - 6 and Lloyd kidnaps her as leverage (has her for maybe a week) and while he on the phone with Six, she starts crying because she wants her dad and Six hears her. Now that Court knows who has her he is able to rescue her. Then when he does rescue her they are both just happy to be together again.

Thank you and this is 100% your choice 💜

Leverage

Pairings: Court Gentry/Sierra Six x Daughter!reader

Content/Warnings: kidnapping, guns, some language, hospitals, not proofread, Lloyd Hanson lmao

WC: ~700

A/N: I told y’all id be back more. <3 THANK YOU to the awesome anon who requested this. I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your kind words. I hope it's okay that I ended up making y/n a liiiil bit older. no older than 12 is what I feel but idk y’all use your imagination. Enjoy!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE - THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT

“It’s okay- It’s me, it’s me.” He turned you around to face him but still had his hand covering your mouth. “You’ree safe now, y/n.” The sight of his familiar blue eyes put you at ease. “Its alright. Im gonna remove my hand now but I need you to be quite, okay?” You nodded in response. Once he let go you let out the biggest breath trying to calm you down, but for some reason it did the exact opposite. He opened his arms for a hug, knowing you might crash any second. Without words or warning, you fell into his grasp, silently letting out gentle cries and whimpers into him, soaking his shirt with your tears. He pulled you away, “I’m gonna get you out of here but I need you to listen to every world I say, Okay?” You nodded in response between hiccups. He grabbed your hand and the both of you ran out of the room.

You ran through the vacant building with your dad. Everything felt like an unsteady rollercoaster. Flying through the estranged emptiness and running down flights of stairs as fast as your feet could carry you. You had a death grip on your dad’s hand, but even that wasn’t enough to keep you two together when Lloyd pulled you away.

One arm was placed around your neck and the other around your waist to try and restrain you from escaping. He walked backwards so he could still face your father. Whatever he was planning, Lloyd wanted Six to have a front row seat.

“What a reunion!”

“What do you want Lloyd?” He showed a sly grin. “You took everything from me. My job, my friends, my fucking finger.” He lifted his hand. “What do you think I could possibly want? I want you to repent, and suffer the way I did”

“Whatever you want from me doesn’t involve y/n. Let her go and we’ll talk.” Lloyd let out a fake laugh. “You’re a really funny man. Gosh what a funny joke- No I think I’ll kill her.” He said, Raising the gun to your temple. Cries and screams filled the air as you pleaded for release. “Lloyd, you don't wanna do this.”

“Oh I think I do.”

He cocked the gun. The scared and panic levels reached their all time high, as you feared for your life for what seems like the 100th time today. A shot went off. You were knocked to the ground. You were waiting for it to come, some jolt of instant pain or something, but you never felt anything. The last thing you remember was your dad holding you. His voice sounded muffled and you were still on the ground. That’s when everything went dark.

You woke up lying in a hospital bed. Wires and tubes layer horizontally across your whole body. Panic made way and settled in.A feeling that has shown itself frequently but no matter how much, it never gets easier. Your dad was by your side. His words sounded muffled again but they slowly made their way to formation. “Y/n. Can you here me sweetie? How do you feel? You alright?” A bright light shined in your eye. Another voice appeared. “She’s okay. I’ll give you two a minute.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Once the door closed you started with your questioning while trying to sit up. “What the hell happened?”

“Woah, sweetie. Be careful. You were shot.”

Despite your fathers worry, you sat up and continued. “Is this purgatory or something?” That made your father laugh a little.

“No. We’re at the hospital. You were taken into emergency surgery. The bullet missed your brain, in fact it barely wen through your skull. Doctors say you’ll make a full recovery though. You’re safe now, y/n”

“Is…is he gone?” Your father sighed. “I took care of it.” He said, hesitantly. That statement alone could mean a plethora of different things, but you trusted your father. At the end of the day, all that mattered was that you were safe and healthy. Recovery would inevitably take a long while, but as long as your dad was with you, you had faith it would all be okay.

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