#without the shadow of the reapers over their shoulder

[thewriterg]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

pairing(s): simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, john ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, simon ‘ghost’ riley x john ‘soap’ mactavish, force 141 x black!reader, r is referred to as ‘grim’

summary: You’re a new recruit to the force and being honest no one expected you to stick around, that was until they got a first glimpse. But their were only two left to stare in awe

word count: 3.2k+

warning(s): Red room AU, hints of past SA, hints of past abuse, usual cod violence, childhood trauma, trauma in general, teen pregnancy, child loss/abduction, death, blood, mentions of self harm, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @daniel-bruehl & @multi-fandom-imagine— Happy New year Writers! A surprise for my absence we have a new series, layout, and writing structure. Let’s start this year off to a good start :)

Soap was beyond annoyed with everything around him it was ass crack dawn in the morning less than fourteen hours after a rough mission that went that did not go to plan whatsoever and he was planning to sleep

“Alright I know all of you lot would like to head back to your bunkers, so I’m not going to piss around the bush.” Soap and Ghost felt like they could breathe feeling his shoulders relax at that Price kept it clean and cut and they both appreciated the man for the fact

“We have a new recruit.” Ghost’s tense shoulders were right back up again while Soap’s lips etched into a wide smirk before the sounds of boots smacking against the concrete floor that were familiar to the teams ears without a thought

“We have a new recruit.” Ghost’s tense shoulders were right back up again while Soap’s lips etched into a wide smirk before the sounds of boots smacking against the concrete floor that were familiar to the teams ears without a thought

Ghost feel he could take the knife that was stuck resting in the holster sitting at his ankle and slice you clean with it you were tense but too tense just to be introduced to a new team tense like you were a spy lurking around his base in the shadows he stood in

“Team this is—” Your eyes widened as the older man began to introduce you were quick to but in and cut him off without a second thought it seemed

“Grim” Your voice was rich and low Soap declared. You said nothing more and nothing less it was also barely muffled by the mask that rested on your face the only thing visible were your eyes and your curls that tousled past your shoulders and some down you back

those damn curls.

that were too long according to guidelines of the field

Price didn’t seem surprised as he waited a few seconds in case you had anything to say which he doubted and his theory was confirmed as the room sat in silence

“She’ll be joinin’ you lot on the Task Force and a few more missions to come. She’s a hell of a shooter and even better sneaker” Ghosts eyes met yours in the moment as Price began to unimaginatively introduce you it was withholding and bland

“Grim like, Grim reaper?” Soap questioned smiling brightly his groggy state long forgotten as he tried to figure you out yet your face never seemed to falter with a smile or any amusement just steady cold stone

“Somethin’ of the sorts” Your answers were short and direct and Ghost couldn’t help but see himself in you but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to focus on his surroundings when you spoke

It made his head foggy and he hated it

He also hated the fact that he couldn’t tell what you were thinking no matter how much he tried to secretly break you down you we’re already throwing him off

Being honest Price didn’t expect anyone else to be debated over permanently staying on his force or not but you were recruited by Laswell herself so who the hell was he to decline? Especially when he saw your charts for sniping

There was no doubt you were the best sniper on the force

“I want all of you to get along Grim is going to be around for a while. Simon I want you to show Grim to her room” As price spoke he gave the blonde a pointed look before walking out of the common room

As you went to pick up your belongings a veiny hand beat you to it as Ghost hauled your bags into his hands his usual skeleton gloves absent without any trace producing nothing more than a grunt before walking out of the room expecting you to follow which you did reluctantly

After less than a three minute walk and you slightly struggling to keep up with six feet and four inch steps you finally had made it to your room you opened the door for the man who you tried to figure out on your way here and while it took longer than usual it didn’t take long

He was quiet and didn’t try to make a ‘walking over eggshells’ conversation which you appreciated he sat your bags in one of the corners of your room you were dressed similar yet completely different

You wore full tactical gear your vest adding at least another ten pounds to your mass a black balaclava with a cut out smile looking animation almost resembling the joker himself covering every feature on your face except your eyes

Ghost having being in his comfortable attire since just gotten awoke from his sleep had plain grey sweatpants, a fitted Henley, and his own balaclava with a skull printed on it

“Get some rest we have a mission, forty-eight hours” and with that he left you standing in the middle of your room your eyes not tracing over his footsteps until the sound of your door closing brings you to reality

You stare out the window the light of the moon the only source of light you have as a guide around your room before you let out a soft sigh forever staring at the moon

💌💌💌💌

The past two missions you had been on were successful to say the least you accelerated your job each go round and Ghost didn’t know if he respected you for using your head and skills or hated you for being a ‘goody two shoes’

Now you all sat on the chopper Soap goofing around with his gun seeing how fast he could take it apart and put it back together while grinning like an idiot, Ghost sat cracking his knuckles any other bone he could to straighten it out, and you sat quietly…

Dead silence.

It wasn’t necessarily… unusual but in a sense it was at the same time. Ever so often Soap would usually get you to crack a smirk and even maybe join in just a tiny bit on teasing the lieutenant but now it was just

Dead silence.

Almost to the point where the man could barely tell if you were breathing properly not to mention you shaking leg that bounced up and down repeatedly never seeming to falter

Simon didn’t have anything on you and he would be lying through his damn teeth if he said it didn’t bother him none even when he tried to pry the information from Price he got a dead end

“Classified information Riley I don’t tell unless she does”

Classified information his ass.

“Chopper is reaching the margin L.T” Soap’s voice broke the lieutenants thoughts as he stood from his seat the door of the chopper coming to an open as the harsh winds of the sky brought a bit of stinging to his eyes

Surprisingly for you to be in the back of heli you reached the doors first, you were the first to drop, and the first to land not even waiting for your lieutenant to give you the green flag to go you were just gone

Gone.

Gone..

Gone…

💌💌💌💌

The mission was so sick it made you feel filthy and you had learned to evade yourself of that feeling a long time ago but you couldn’t help but feel it creep back onto you as you stared at the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you

He was tied to a chair as soldiers were coming and going inside and out of the cold warehouse You had a ringing in your ears as you both stared at each other the man with a smug you and You with pure disgust, hatred, and even devastation

Price and König were outside of the warehouse loading girls into different vehicles handing out blankets and water bottles while Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all stood around you and each other in a sort of half circle

Anyone and Everyone could tell, it didn’t take a genius to know that there was some sort of familiarity in the both of your eyes and before Ghost could demand you to tell him what the hell was going on the supposed mystery man spoke

“Never thought I would see the day, I get to see my favorite Scholar again.” Your eyes never left his as your fist that wasn’t clutching the M16 Rifle in your hand even though it was strapped around your shoulder and falling to your hip

“Never thought I’d get the chance to kill you” You usually smooth voice was now spiked with hatred as you gritted every word throughout your teeth you didn’t know you were stalking closer to his seated position until you were staring down at him your eyes blazing through your mask

“Grim” Ghost warned as the call for you went in one ear and out the other

“Is that what you call yourself now, you know I couldn’t help but take credit when people were splurging and talking about this girl taking down men four times her size, Sniping through thin air quickly and quietly without a miss, and moving with so much precision you would think she would be a dancer. A ballerina. I knew it was you. My favorite little girl.” He started chuckling the same chuckle that used to make your blood run cold now made it boil

“I’m not that same little girl Dreykov. I’m a grown ass women who could slit your throat before you could even perfect your stance. You will never hurt another girl or woman in your pathetic little life again, because it will be taken from you for all the lives you’ve ruined and traumatized” Your hands sat on the collar of the man’s collar his hair that was one brunette and full was now grey and thin

“Do you remember the time when I threaded your innocence? You fought and fought never let me see the tears that streamed your little face, a true warrior. That’s when I knew I’d had to save you for myself, never let those pretty curls slip my grasp” You couldn’t find the words in you to speak no one could even Soap who always had something say couldn’t utter a word

Ghost and Soap could help but pray and Ghost never found himself doing the act even when he was fighting for his life on the battlefield that what this bastard was talking about wasn’t what they thought he was even Gaz found himself holding his breath in anticipation

“And then we found out that, another addition would be added to our headquarters. That there would be an offspring a mix of our two souls soon to be padding around this base. God you tried and tried to remove yourself too the point you were put on heavy watch do you remember?” You could never bring yourself to forget even after five years it would always be in the back of your mind taunting you

They all felt sick.

“I was seventeen you sick bastard!” The pistol that usually sat in the holster at your hip now collided with the forehead of that man in front of you

Again.

Again..

And again…

Until you were thrashing against the tight hold of Ghost who scooped you up without a speck of struggle the only thing stopping him from keeping you there was your struggling against his firm grasp

“You raped me! You first raped me when I was fourteen! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” You were screaming so loud it would be sure to take your voice it left you so dehydrated you were sure to soon start dry heaving

💌💌💌💌

“Okay one more push it’s almost here, come on one more big one!” Your legs propped up on either side of the medical cot underneath you a sheet blocking your view from seeing what was going on on the other side

But if you were being honest you could barely give an ounce of care what was going on the other side your this was worse than any dagger cut you could bring to receive or give yourself it was a searing pain that made your ears ring and bring you in and out of consciousness

“It’s a Girl” the female nurse smiled brightly down at the newborn in her arms and then back to you as sweat dripped down your body you tilted your head as you stared at the baby girl in her arms

“A girl?” You were sure that was the first time you smiled in all your years at the base the nurse noted it too

“What will you name her?” You had thought about it. The name of your child over the past nine months even if you didn’t want to your head couldn’t help but start to generate it

“I will name her Natalia. Please let me see her” You held your arms out and the women inched towards you with a smile ready to lay the crying infant in your arms

“Woman, what are you doing!? Don’t.” Both your smiles left at the sound of Drekovs voice and reluctantly the women backed away from you as your eyes began to water

“Please just once. Just one time” Your voice was hoarse as it cracked and shattered in your throat

“Dreykov please! Please, please Dreykov NO!” The man left without a word your baby in his filthy hands. You were too weak to get up, to run after her.

“It’s better for her Zero, let her go, just let her go” The nurse hugged you tight your head tucked underneath her chin rocking you back and forth as you screamed and cried along with your aching body

Your heart would never heal and that was the last day you cried in your life.

💌💌💌💌

You were in Soaps hold now when did you get here you had no Idea his grip was firm like Ghost’s but it was also cradling as if you were the most expensive porcelain on the market that’s what you didn’t want that’s what you’ve been trying to prevent

For everyone to tread around or walk on eggshells when it wasn’t from fear but pity holding you like glass as if you would b r e a k if the spoke too loud you hadn’t been held like that since that day

The sound of bones snapping evaded your senses as you looked to where ghost stood repeatedly smashing his fist the Dreykovs face bones snapped and you didn’t know if it was concerning that you knew the sound of each one

crack

that was the nose

crack.

that was the jaw.

crack!

that was the neck

creak

that was the windpipe

CRACK!

that was the skull.

You watched as the chair tipped on its side the man who robbed you of your chances of a normal life still strapped to it as blood gargled in his mouth you locked eyes as you watched him take his last breath and he watched as you took your first real one

You felt a tremendous weight lifted from your shoulders and you couldn’t tell if that was metaphorical or because Soap finally let you go

“Grim, do you copy!?” The blaring of the little box on your chest hurt your ears as Price’s voice ran through it out into the open

“Yes sir” Your voice void of any emotion as if you weren’t screaming bloody murder ten minutes ago the Boys stared at you as you kept your eyes glued to his dead ones

“Any issues?” There were plenty of them that you could count at least ten on all of your fingers that came to the top of your head

“Negative sir.” You turned around on the heel of your boot walking out of the room with the slam of the door

💌💌💌💌

Your way back to base was silent the only noise was the birds choppers swinging rapidly over your head and by the time you had gotten to your destination you were already headed towards your room not waiting for your lieutenant Ghost to dismiss you like you were supposed to

Your hands shook as you opened the door to your room and it made you heavily curse You were a sniper you never shook

Your clothes you had to talk yourself into putting into your drawers were back in your bag with an amount of Meer minutes and then there was a knock on your door it was time you knew it was

You stalked to your door your fingertips lingering on the knob before you opened it suddenly and there stood Gaz a beanie on his head majority of his tactical gear off his body

“Price wants to see you in his office” His voice was soft as he stared at you none of your gear was off there was blood splattered on your balaclava and your body seamed to tremble

You simply nodded pushing past the taller man so you be on your way and you got there too soon it felt like you were too fast on the way there like you didn’t use enough time You knocked on the door three times and a second past by before price spoke up to let you enter

“Take a Seat kid” Was the first thing that spilled from his lips as he stared at your stiff and tense figure standing in front of the door and even thought it was only a minute that past as you reluctantly sat down it felt like hours

“No one’s blaming you for what happened, I know. I’d never tell anyone, haven’t told anyone. The only people who know are me and Lawswell” Price’s word stuck in your head it didn’t go in one ear and o u t the other

“I’m, I’m not suspended?” You couldn’t help but question the one thing, the only thing on your mind as the white haired man inhaled the smoke of his cigar before letting it seep back out of his teeth shaking his head

“No, but I do have a job, a mission that you aren’t going to like I know you run off structure and discipline so you could claim this as a challenge more than a punishment.” You caught yourself holding your breath in anticipation at the pause in the air

“You’ll be going on a undercover mission… with Ghost and Soap to accompany you” Your fist balled up in your lap as you both stared at each other you finally let the bruising hold on your hands go before giving the captain and stiff yet swift nod standing from your seat

“And Grim” You turned back to face him your fingertips steady on the door knob

“You did well today” There was only a hum mixed with a grunt of acknowledgment before you left Prices office heading back down the hallway to your own room

Something you could finally call your own

💌💌💌💌

Resources;

National Sexual Assault Hotline; 1-800-656-4673

what to do if you or a loved one was sexually assaulted

how to cope with SA

Let me know if you wanted to be added to this series or any other taglist

[yandere-genji]

Ahhh hi!

So, I have a request for Cassidy, Reaper, Moria, and Soldier:76 (separate, please).

What I was thinking is their darling (preferably masculine, but gn works too) goes outside while they’re sleeping. Not because they’re trying to escape, but because they just wanted to go on the porch for a bit. Darling doesn’t even think about leaving, and is surprised when the person comes running outside for them, thinking that they left.

What do you think their reactions would be? Would they be mad, understanding, not really care?

Thank you and have a good day!

(Also don’t forget to hydrate and take care of yourself)

tw: yandere, abuse

❤️‍🔥 Cassidy

The man sleeps like a log. Snores and everything, gives off a lot of body heat. It’s easy to be overwhelmed sharing a bed with him, especially on sleepless nights. 

Luckily, due to his heavy sleeping, you’re able to slink out from underneath him and out the bedroom with little trouble. You’re surprised he doesn’t have other measures to prevent you from doing this. 

You’re dying for fresh air, cracking open a window and resting your head in your hands as the breeze cools your skin. The desert at night is empty with stars painting the sky. 

It takes some time before Cassidy notices you’re gone and he’s surprisingly cool-headed, partly because he’s just woken up. 

He finds you looking out the open window, relieved that you haven’t left for good. Not that you could’ve made it very far without him. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” his arms wrap around you and presses you against his body’s musky heat. 

“It’s so hot, Cass,” you whine, “I need some fresh air. Please?”

He takes you by the hand and leads you to the front door, stepping out onto the porch. You follow and sit with him, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

The desert climate doesn’t make for perfect sleeping conditions, but it’s freeing. He holds you until you fall back asleep, stealing you back to bed soon after. 

🖤 Reaper

Lightest sleeper, a pin drop will wake this man. Not that you would know, he keeps you in a separate room. 

Did I say room? It’s more of a box, no windows or doors etc. Some toys to pass the time while he’s away. Not the most trusting yandere.

So you don’t have a lot of options when it comes to step out for a breather. 

But the Reaper works at night. And when he’s off conducting Talon business, there’s no one to stop you if, say, you’ve stolen the keys to your chambers.

And let’s be honest, it’s probably not by your own merit that the keys ended up in your hands, knowing how much Reaper enjoys punishing you. 

But it’s not like you were doing anything wrong. You weren’t exactly looking to escape, a part of you might not have wanted to and the other couldn’t afford the consequences. But staying indoors with such minimal resources was enough to drive anyone stir-crazy. 

You miss the feeling the open breeze, the sound of birds and bugs buzzing around. Anything to remind you that the world did indeed exist outside of Reaper’s hold. 

You brought blankets and pillows and laid yourself down on the porch - just to enjoy the outdoors without all its discomforts. Relax to the sound of crickets chirping. 

Of course, you end up asleep, and when Reaper catches you out, he’s not at all happy to find you outside your room. Before you can even process all that is happening, you’re inside your chambers again. 

His shadowed tendrils hold you against the wall, “Are you out of your damned mind?”

Black smoke filled your lungs, stammering your words, “I-I’m sorry I stole the keys, it’s just- I can’t stay in here for so long.”

“You have the gall to think I don’t know what’s best for you?” he releases you, letting you fall to the floor and gasping for air, “Earn your place.”

He leaves soon after and you can’t help but flog yourself for being so bold. Maybe if you keep complying to him, he might give you that freedom. Or it’s just another carrot to hang over your head. 

🧡 Moira

She has safeguards in place that prevent you from outright leaving your quarters, but you’ve mostly free range. 

Moira’s obsession with you is a bit different from the other yanderes because of her experimental tendencies. 

She likes to see you come undone, whether by her own hand or keeping you under the influence of some test substance. So you don’t always have your wits about you, her way of restricting you. 

Rarely do you have time to clear your head, desperate for reprieve. Most days the sun is far too bright for your adulterated state, but the moonlight is that goldilocks-perfect pale glow.  

Moira has security measures in place, so she knows when you’ve left the house. And when she’s notified that you opened the front door, she’s livid. 

When she confronts you, you think she’s going to tear the head off your shoulders without even a word as she pulled you back inside with little resistance. 

“I’ve half a mind to keep you paralyzed,” she is fuming, jaw tight. 

You writhe in her grasp, “Wait, Moira, I can explain-“

Yours words come out just as weak as your body as she shoves you into her lab. 

“Keep your explanations to yourself. I’ll see to it you’ll never need them.”

Looks like you’ll have to find some other way to convince her to let you outside. (Bad ending vibes)

🩵 Soldier: 76

Big spoon. Very possessive. He holds you close and his weight is crushing. Most difficult one to sneak away from in these circumstances. 

Even if you try to break away, he’ll pull you back into him. You’ll need deliberation and luck on your side to slip away. 

If only you could have the house to yourself. Just waste time on the living room couch, watching some TV and eating snacks. Maybe take a hot bath. 

But your captor was in the next room over, the last thing you wanted to do was wake him. Best you could do to relieve your muddled mind was to get some fresh air. 

Your heart is thumping against your chest. Jack’s cardinal rule is to never leave the house, and if he caught you sneaking out like this who knows what he would do to you. Still, you had made it this far, you might as well enjoy the luxury. 

And as you might expect, your absence is noted almost immediately. In fact, you’re no less than a few paces from the bedroom when his hand catches yours. 

“Back to bed,” he commands, all gravel. 

“No,” you protest, trying to halt him with a hand on his wrist but he leads you anyway, “I don’t want to go back to bed, I can’t breathe in here.”

He turns back to you, brows knit. He leads you past the bed and releases you on a pillowed surface, behind which was an elaborate work of contraints he restrained you against. It’s a dog bed, you realize. 

“This will be your sleeping arrangement until you learn how to behave.”

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Of A Feather

M!Harpy x F!Human

This was an entry into a little contest. I went with a harpy plague doctor as my character. Some people liked it and that was enough for me.

When the village head informed me that he could not pay me in gold or goods, I was sympathetic. A bad harvest combined with a harsh winter had left them with little to spare. What little resources they had were used up to try and keep the remaining people healthy, at my behest. 

While I had no intention of exploiting him, there was still the matter of payment.  After all, services had been performed, supplies used, risks taken, and time spent.

If he couldn’t pay me with such things, what was left? 

Favors and flesh. 

I was taken to the man’s home, where a small gathering of people awaited me. They had obviously picked from the best looking and available people in the village. Hair combed and styled, attire perfectly coordinated to match skin and eye color, and subtle perfumes that did little to mask the stench of death that still clung to the doors. 

Even in the dim light of the candles, I could tell they were dazzling. 

The life of a plague doctor was a lonely one. Constantly traveling from town to town, potential suitors being scared off by the rumors that disease still clung to me, and many that I met died within the week. An omen of Death, bringer of the Reaper, harvester of Life. Titles that did not grant me land or wealth. 

The lot in front of me showed a fear I was all too familiar with. Some cast their eyes downward, but it did little to hide it. A few dared to glare or even scowl when they thought I wasn’t looking.  

I was about to depart, not wanting to further upset those still grieving, when the door opened. 

A chill from the autumn night stirred the curtains and made the candles flicker. As shadows danced across the walls, I could hear a few muffled whimpers and whispers. 

Labored breathing followed. 

The woman at the doorway was still wearing the gowns of mourning, her hair tucked away under a scarf. Despite this, her eyes weren’t red and puffy. 

In fact, she looked almost… Relieved to see me. She clutched a lantern, but I could see it shaking in her hand. For an instant, I feared she would drop it. 

When I took a step toward her, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She stared at my gloved hand, the fingers slightly limp. 

As her lips parted, I expected a biting remark or curse thrown my way. 

Instead, she tightened her grip on the lantern and set her jaw. 

Standing up straight, she drew herself to her full height. The lantern shook in her grasp, the flame dancing and moving the shadows on the wall. While far from an intimidating stature, the boldness that rolled off her gave me pause. 

Determination now gleamed in her gaze, the lamplight making it look almost like a hunter’s glint. 

Tension rose in the room. Eyes flicked back and forth. The crowd cleared a path as she walked up to me, no hesitation in her step. 

There was no need to ask who I was. The mask and robes left little doubt. 

Without a word, she curtsied to me. She looked back at the villagers, as if daring them to try and stop her. No one said a thing. In fact, everyone seemed to be relieved at her presence. There was a glimmer of hope. 

No one would have to choose a sacrifice to give to the boogeyman. 

We left the home, the door slamming behind us. 

I led the way, and she followed me to the outskirts. Not one person stopped to thank her or bid farewell. It suddenly made sense to me. They had wanted to be rid of her, and she of them. A few faces in windows twisted and contorted with disgust. Never with sorrow. 

Like me, she was an outsider.

Once we reached the border, where the dirt road gave way to the sprawling beyond, I saw her hesitate. She stared over her shoulder, and for a moment I thought she would weep. 

Clumsily, I reached into one of the pouches on my belt and produced a handkerchief. She stared at the square of fabric, and then began to laugh. Tears still welled, but I felt better knowing they weren’t from sorrow. 

I found myself entranced with the emotion and expression. She quieted too soon, and we were once more on our way. 

We walked in silence, and I was beginning to work out the terms of a contract and the conditions of my new companion’s stay. 

She continued to look out of the corner of her eye at me, smirking when our gazes met. I didn’t pry into the details of her life, nor did she mine. Perhaps it would come in time, when she became accustomed to her new position. 

When we arrived at my home, I allowed her inside and set up her accommodations. She explored the rooms and seemed satisfied. Rather than shrink away or cry out at the sight of my more macabre collections, she seemed intrigued. 

It was far from luxurious, but she would be comfortable until we found a more long term solution. I also supplied her with books so we could begin her training proper. She took them, but seemed confused, raising a quizzical brow. 

“We will start your studies tomorrow. By the end of the week, you should know what to expect moving forward.” 

I bid her goodnight then went to my own room to draw up the contract of her stay. 

An assistant would help relieve the burden of a few jobs, but I couldn’t afford to keep one for very long. My focus was purely on this new endeavor that I never removed my clothing to prepare for slumber. 

I was perched at my desk, having scribbled out dozens of lines on my papers when I heard the bedroom door open. Living alone, I had never gotten into the habit of locking it. 

She came into the room, wearing only her shift. It was threadbare, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes flicked around the room, perplexed at my lack of a bed. The confusion didn’t last long and she approached the desk, standing behind the chair. 

While both of us were about the same height standing, she nearly towered over me. 

I turned to face her, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the desk behind me. The bare flesh of her arms barely brushed against my robes. Even through the thick material I could feel their warmth. Breath fogged up the lenses of my mask, obscuring my vision. 

It was then I realized while I had expected a repayment in the form of a favor, she had chosen flesh. Perhaps she assumed that doing so would end her stay with me sooner and she could flee back to her village, or wherever she decided, after. 

Slowly, I lifted up my glove and pressed the back of it to her lips as I waited for the fog on my mask to dissipate. 

Her eyes became lidded as I felt the pressure of her lips against the leather. With an intentionally gradual pace, she brought them further down, where the glove went under my sleeve. 

She seemed perplexed at the material going so far up, but I could still feel her warm breath rolling down my arm. I was statue still as it flowed to my chest and heart. 

Blood sang in my veins as desire long buried began to claw its way from the grave. 

I retracted my hand from her. Her fingers twitched, curling on empty air. Slowly, she stepped away, eyes averting apologetically. Lips moved, tongue flitting nervously as she prepared to speak. 

Instead, I put my gloves on either side of my mask. 

Without waiting for a request for assistance, she slipped it off. 

I expected her to recoil in horror, or to flinch. But she only stared, eyes hungrily taking in the details of my face. While I was certainly far from a beauty, she clearly expected something more grotesque or marred. Her gaze seemed to focus on my hair, the long plumes that caught the light in a strange way, the way it frayed out.  

I stood up, expecting her to take a step back. Instead, she was resolute, not moving from her spot in front of me. 

My gloves found her hand. I could feel it shaking. She laced her fingers with mine, breath still tickling my lips. 

Gingerly, she set the mask down with her free hand. Dexterous fingers worked open my robes, running softly over the pebbled skin. Inhaling sharply, I flinched away reflexively as the shed material fell to the floor, leaving me in only my breeches and boots. 

While I possessed the same flesh as her on my head and torso, black feathers began to dot and eventually cover my arms, giving way to wings stuffed inside gloves. They too fell to the floor, no longer being held in place by sleeves.

I could see her eyes going lower, wondering what lay beyond the clothing. Ironically, the one part of my outer clothing that resembled a bird masked my human features. 

Then, she finally hesitated. Blinking, she traced over my shoulders and ran fingers down my bicep, stopping where flesh ended. The slightest edge of her nails made my feathers ruffle. A few formed a black ring around my boots. 

I could see the worry in her eyes. An unspoken question. 

What are you?

I made no move to pull her closer. Nor did I push her away. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to frighten the other. 

When she stepped back, I could feel a pang in my heart. The small space now between us cut through me like an icy blade. 

She grabbed her shift’s hem. Pulling it over her head, she let it join my feather’s on the floor. Despite all the heat coming from her touch, nipples were erect, skin covered in gooseflesh. I found myself closing the gap, letting our bodies share the warmth between them.  

Soft lips pressed against mine, arms encircling my waist. Legs wrapped around, bare flesh of thighs and calves rubbing against breeches and boots. My touch feather light, I followed every curve and crevice of her skin, unable to fully embrace and grasp her like she did to me. 

As I traveled downward, I could feel her breath catch against my neck, fingers digging into my back. I lacked the dexterity she did, but I could feel the trickling folds between her legs. Since I didn’t possess fingers, I moved my human mouth down and parted her thighs. 

The clothing we’d shed formed a slight cushion as she sat, hands tangled in my hair. I could feel her fingers exploring as my tongue plunged in and out of her. Each quiver and shake brushed against my feathers, the sensation only seeming to add to her enjoyment. 

Ankles locked between my shoulders, pulling me more into her. I increased my efforts, hooking her legs in the crook of my elbow. The gasps and moans became cries and screams of ecstasy, begging for more. 

The fingers in my hair formed a fist. My lips pressed to hers, groans and growls escaping me in a carnal language we both knew all too well, my tongue exploring as hers called out for more. 

When she finally loosened her grip, I shifted. Breeches brushed against her soaking folds, betraying the hardness within. Shaking legs spread wider. In the moonlight, I could see her shimmering wetness. Shallow breaths betrayed her ache. The need to be filled.

With some difficulty, I molted the last bit of my clothing. My boots clomped noisily on the floor. My breeches had barely slipped down my thighs when she managed to get up, her whole body shaking with the effort.

Once more, she leaned over, hands resting on the ground behind me. Straddling me, she lowered herself down. 

The warm and wet gripped me tightly, and I could see her spread across the girth, before vanishing behind my feathers. She tossed back her head at that, breath catching as she took a moment to recover, before starting again. I met her with each movement, once more devolving into the ancient language. 

However, she seemed to have had enough of it, and her lips covered mine. Her tongue explored, no doubt tasting herself. This only seemed to invigorate her further, moans and whimpers rumbling through the both of us. Even muffled, the sounds rattled me to my core. 

I wrapped my wings around her, not wanting a feather’s width of space between us. I wanted this to last. But I was dancing so close to the edge already. 

My taloned feet traced over her calves. The sharp tips must have lightly scratched her, because she stared at me, finally parting our kiss. Trembling legs gave out then, and she collapsed on top of me, labored breaths telling me she was at the brink herself. 

Despite the hesitation, she gave me a nod to continue. 

They gripped her ankles tightly, locking her in place. Taking her under my wings, I let her rest against me as I rolled my hips. Each thrust was punctuated with a sigh or a moan. The slow pace drew out each motion. 

Soon, I could feel her trying to wriggle down onto me, begging me to fill her faster. A few times I gave in, remaining inside her, only to draw back out again. She would bite her lips, scratching at the floor. The request was loud, despite a word not being spoken. 

Each breath and sigh further fanned the heat inside me. My motions were rough and out of practice, but she craved it all the same. 

Finally, I hilted and held her fast, feeling the flame of passion sputter out. She twitched around me, soft sighs telling me she could feel each drop inside her. It spilled out onto my stomach and hips, my grip finally loosening. 

We stayed entangled, clothes and feathers scattered around us. I managed to get my robes and drape them over her. The shivering eventually ceased, and she laid against my chest, hand resting on my shoulder. Slowly, her eyes closed and I could feel the soft breathing of slumber. 

The lenses of my mask gleamed in the candlelight, watching over the two of us.  

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Salvation - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.

So my darling @zablife put this in my brain, and it was going to be smutty, but it took a much more tender turn in the end. I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.

Words - 1,034

Warnings - Brief mentions of violence.

In Luca’s world, his status dictates he acts as judge and jury, but not often executioner. Usually, it’s another to squeeze a trigger, send a ballistic of hot lead into somebody, their final lesson learned in never crossing the men who loom like reapers within the shadows of the New York underworld.  

Until the code of omerta is forsaken so badly, he has no choice but to execute vengeance, when it’s on a level so personal, there’s no one else but him to bring down the final blow. For omerta, any bond is pushed aside. Friendship, blood, oaths, everything.  

And it never gets easier.  

The weight of it pushes down on his shoulders, the deed trailing along after him, like a restless phantom vying for attention, swirling dark as it flits through his mind. It casts its shadows, seeds itself, an implanted haunting no exorcism will ever remove. The stains of blood can be washed away, cleansed by soap and water. Stains of the soul take a much deeper scouring.  

For the wages of sin is death, so says the holy book. He knows it’ll come to him eventually, unless he’s particularly fortunate. It shan’t be the sacrilege of breaking omerta that ends him, though. He knows whatever reaper comes for him in the end will be nothing less than his own wages of sin have earned him. 

He examines his hands again in the car, although it was a gloved hand that pulled the trigger and sent his own blood down to check in at the gates of hell. They only contain the usual brandings, no blood to mark the deed, nothing outward giving it away. If his appearance matched the carnage in his brain, he would look as if he’d been launched headfirst into a blood-filled vat, dripping sanguine, no skin left without the slick wet of a crimson stain.  

He feels like he is walking through clay as he enters your home, feet heavy, limbs turned to stone and concrete. Luca Changretta is nothing if not a pillar of strength, but as with anything, if the pillar is subjected to blunt force trauma too many times, it begins to show cracks.  

It’s always you who patches them up again.  If anybody has a chance of banishing the phantom, it is you.

He moves through the house wordlessly after removing his coat and hat, his feet upon the stairs echoing through the hallway. Slow, heavy footfalls, his shoulders drawn up as you stand at the bottom to view him, biting your lip nervously.  

“Want me to bring you a drink up?”  

He never means to bite your head off, show his fangs like an agitated viper, but it does happen. When the tall Italian turns at the top to look down on you, though, it’s with a softened face. “Please, doll.”  

A little pang of worry nestles itself in your chest, his voice even quieter than usual. You knew he wouldn’t walk away from that particular hit unscathed, the damage being on the inside. It’ll be like a feral cat scratching against the inside of his skull in the days to come, sore, repetitive, vying for release.  

After all, it isn’t every day a man has to put a bullet in his cousin, after discovering he was a rat. 

Knowing he needs a little time, you wait downstairs until after the sound of running water has ceased, giving him a slither of peace before padding up, a large whiskey in your hand. He hasn’t bothered switching the lights on, some of your candles over in the corner lit instead, the room bathed in a dark gold glow.  

He seems to have been taken by the storm of his thoughts, not immediately registering your entrance into his calming space, a wounded, green gaze finding you eventually as you pass him his drink, seating yourself on the side of the tub. Your hand reaches for his face, cupping his cheek, the dark stubble grainy in texture against the soft of your fingertips.  

A sigh sweeps over your palm as he leans into your embrace, your thumb skimming his lips, a kiss pressed as finally, he smiles. “Thank god for you.” Leaning forward, he shuffles to the centre of the tub, the water whooshing around the narrow, muscular form as it cuts through it, Luca jerking his head back. “Come hop in here with me.”  

It’s usually you who lies between his long legs, legs you once coined sexy giraffe legs and made him laugh until his stomach hurt, a rarity for a man usually so taciturn, so quietly still. Your place now is to be the bearer of support, the bolster rod knocked in behind the great pillar to prevent it from toppling, ready to take the weight and repair the damage.  

His head rests between your breasts, eyes falling shut, long legs jutting out of the water where he’s bent them at the knees to make room for you. The steam rises from his skin, and you watch it curling up through the air while your fingers weave into his wet hair, nails combing through the raven strands and swirling over his scalp.  

It’s a practice he’s always found soothing, and you know he needs it, needs something to counteract all that is sharp and screaming in his mind. Your presence alone is tonic enough, but for him, it’s your touch which truly pours healing elixir over the emotional wounds lacerating him deeply. Your fingertips begin to squeeze and rake, easing the tension pulling tight over his head, a soft, relaxed grunt rumbling his throat.  

Your caress moves to his neck, the muscles hard and unrelenting, tension cording every muscle. It leads to his shoulders, your hands working with diligence, stroking, kneading and pinching until you feel them begin to become malleable. He feels it leaving him, the exorcism that is the pure brilliance of your love banishing all that hangs heavy upon him, the phantom chased away, shrouding itself from your light.  

“Feeling any better?” 

He lifts his chin, turning his head, the smile finally reaching the green twinkle of his eyes, picked peridot in the candlelight. “Always am whenever you’re near.” 

[mexipoopy]

On Repeat - OC Tag Stuff

I was tagged by @acidheaddd to do this and AH thank you I've been mulling over this A LOT and it really made me think hard on my OCs and their stories. Credits to @elderwisp(a cool guy) for the idea.

OK! Onto the LORE

Ai [FSU -BigKlit]

1 shot, 2 shot, 3 shot, 4 Fuck it up, I wanna see the bodies hit the floor 5 shot, 6 shot, 7 shot, 8 We don't give a fuck, we burning down the whole place Fuck shit up, I wanna fuck shit up, I wanna fuck shit up

Rage, rage, rage. That's definitely a word to describe this guy. Ai is very aggressive due to good old trauma~* but despite his violent tendencies he's full of highly energized spite and fun, so this song encapsulates his personality pretty accurately with its fast pace and aggressive lyrics. A fist with a bright shining smile to accompany it.

Marisol [Holy Weather -Civil Twilight]

It’s not too late to go home Passion is this weight on my shoulders So why did you follow me into this den When all the bluest stars paint your name In a sky of black You must go back

Are you lost little soul? Marisol is a bit of a wanderer, who lets her curiosity dictate her actions. But where that curiosity leads her is full of a darkness that beckons her soul to light her path. She is constantly told to turn back by many colorful characters, despite this, she persists. There is a particular entity who crosses paths with her soul and is unable to escape her tenacity. This song with its regretful lyrics and soft instrumentals, parallel the dynamic of her affect on those around her especially the one that holds her soul closest to theirs and the consequences that happen because of it.

Isaiah [Daydreaming -Radiohead]

Beyond the point Of no return Of no return Then it's too late The damage is done The damage is done This goes Beyond me Beyond you

Liminal. Inhuman. Existence. Isaiah, if that is his true identity, is an individual full of whimsical mysteries and questions. What happens when a person dies, and who will lead us into the afterlife? Will the reaper come to aid us in our desperate confusion upon our passing? Where will you go? This song, compels the listener to wander and be lured by its ethereal instrumentals and the darkness that looms around it, much like how the darkness and uncertainty of death lingers among the living.

Jasper [You Don't Own Me -Tamino]

You may keep me hеre You seem to know just how To pin me to the ground Each timе you come around Take away my home Obscuring what I am And plague me all night long And lay claim to freedom's song

What good is greed if you don't possess yourself? Even the strongest can fall folly to abusive, parasitic relationships. Jasper, even in his conception was never meant to enjoy the freedom of individuality. Being a prisoner inside his own body and shackled by family ties and a predatory lover that only wishes to possess him, his autonomy is never of his own volition. Still, his soul persists, fighting and gnashing at every opportunity to break free from those that hold him captive. This song is one of rebelling to that which wants to possess and control you, which bears a haunting resemblance to Jasper's own struggles.

Anabelle [Do You Feel Real -Sevdaliza]

I thought I'd heal from you Or you'd escaped from me Maybe I'm too scared to forget you I just can't remember how it feels like to function without Absorbed in total free fall It's a waste of time It's not that serious

My void is one that comforts and cures a loneliness that it causes. What do you do when the only thing that comforts you is the presence of evil? When that is all that you are used to? Anabelle was born spreading death and misery wherever she went. But why? Is it the shadow that follows her and protects her as everything else withers away? Accompanied by low and drawn out instrumentals, the lyrics of this song perpetuate a relationship that is parasitic and addictive in nature, one that you thought you overcame but it persists. Anabelle craves love from the living and dreads the darkness that lingers and keeps her isolated. Still, she is plagued by her need to have it close or else her loneliness will destroy her.

Ira [Daisy -Brand New]

I'm a mountain that has been moved I'm a river that is all dried up I'm an ocean nothing floats on I'm a sky that nothing wants to fly in I'm a sun that doesn't burn hot I'm a moon that never shows its face I'm a mouth that doesn't smile I'm a word that no one ever wants to say

I am nothing. I crave to become everything. Ira is an anomaly. He exists but in a plane that no living creature can exist, all he knows, he knows from a dream that connects to his. She is beautiful, living, while he is nothing. Envy feeds his hunger, but nothing ever happens. HE shouldn't exist, yet he does. A paradox, much like the message of this song. The dream persists and reminds him that he should exist. But why is he here and not there? Maybe she can help him become real, and not a dream.

_________________________________

AND that's it for that lol! I have way more characters that I have music for (but i don't have official finalized sim versions of them) so i just included these guys for now, I could include my Envidia story characters but i felt like this post is pretty long as it is sajkfa my bad. LOL all my song choices are existential/depressing save for Ai, because he's built different lol.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere harem (Angel, Demon, Reaper)  x GN! Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warning for character death, body horror elements, light gore, angst

Parts 1, 2

Predatory eyes emerge from above, talons chipping paint from the doorframe they stood guard at. Fangs protrude from two pairs of lips; soft growl emitting from the demon’s throat in warning. He crouched to near eye level – exhales hot against your cheek as he spoke. 

“I’m getting tired of the mistreatment, Y/n. You may be my master, but even I have my limits.”

Staring into the eyes of the beast, your resolve remains the stronger party. “Not my problem.”

His aggression takes a dial back, but jealous lingers. “Why does he get to go out with you, but I don’t? You like him more than me don’t you.”

“You’re literally a seven feet tall demon.” 

“..So?”

You sigh, ready to give up on the day before it had even really started – a common occurrence in your daily life of living with demon summoned by your own accord, and your guardian angel. This arrangement had been going on for what felt like ages; neither wanting to leave your side and making your life a living nightmare in the process. One possessive and desperate for every ounce your attention, and the other over protective –  yet the more rational of the two. While you figured out a way to get rid of them both, ground rules had to be set in order keep your sanity. 

Alasdair had requested your company on a trip to the nearby shopping center, Baron butting in as third wheel as he always did. The two often competed for your time; neither wanting to let the other spend a single second longer with you alone; Baron being the worse offender in letting his possession show. At this point you were starting to care less since they hardly listened anyway, but the problem came when trying to enforce one of the few rules you had made for him.

Annoyed by his blatant stalking, you gave Baron the condition that he couldn’t leave the house without a mortal form. From the shadows was one of his favorite ways to watch you. Knowing you were the only one that could see him; the rare moment were he missed your eye and just being able to stare. There was no better feeling for him. The presence over your shoulder wasn’t frightening, just annoying when you could feel him basically breathing down your neck.

“We’ve been over this. You can’t creep around in broad daylight even if people can’t see you.”

“Do I have to?.. I’m..shy..” He replies meekly, hoping for a hand at the sympathy card.

“Yes.”

Alasdair flips a page in the magazine nested in his lap, rested on the couch as he waited. “We would even be in the middle of this conversation if you had let me banish him by now.”

You point back at him. “Stay out of this.” He hums in compliance as you address Baron again. “Can you please just change so we can go?”

He thinks for a moment, before finally giving in. In the end, he could never disappoint you. “Fiine. But only because you said please.” 

A cloud of black smoke shrouds his body, horns shrinking down into his skin as locks of hair sprout from his scalp. Full lips appear on his face, claws exchanged for sharp fingernails and pink skin for a peachy tone; black lines tattooed around his torso, legs and biceps. He shrinks slightly in size, yet remains broad; extending his arms to show the full length of his transformation. 

“Tada!”

Only one thought comes to mind as you look at him.

“Why are you naked?”

-

After squeezing the six foot six man into a pair of your clothes, you’re finally ready to leave. Alasdair was still on the couch, eyes clued on the TV and booklet tossed aside. He prided himself in being on time and proper for every event; dressing at the crack of dawn and in his finest attire. You check the time on your phone. A few minutes behind what you guess, but nothing too off.

You walk up to him. “Ready to go?”

His eyes idle on the television for a beat, before he snaps to your attention. “Yes, of course. Though, I’m not quite sure if we should be leaving now.” 

“What changed your mind?”

His gaze shifts back to the television, yours soon to follow. It was turned to a news station; a sky view of a local bank on screen. Several police cars surrounded the building, smoke billowing from its rear.

“It’s about forty minutes away from the center. I fest that-"

Baron cuts him off. “Who cares. I didn’t transform for nothing, let’s go already.”

-

The ride over goes relatively smooth. Alasdair sits calmly at your side while Baron stood over you both; intrigued by his surroundings. He had seen buses before, but had yet to actually get on one himself. The rumble of the engine beneath his feet was too exciting for him to sit down. Alasdair had to keep his hand away from the yellow lines above, else the trip would have been longer than mapped out. Or got you kicked off the bus.

The shopping center was a part of an entrance to a bigger mall, smaller stores lining up to the larger picture at the end of the road.

“What exactly are you here for?” You ask out of the blue.

Alasdair flushes. “It is… somewhat embarrassing to say out loud. ” 

“You don’t have to then.”

“I-if you must know.. There’s a shop going out of business soon that sells the most adorable angel figurines. Far from accurate, sure, but adore them all the same.”

You knew all too well. You had woken up to a few of the little porcelain demons on your dresser, or having a few spawn around your house every week. You didn’t know where he was getting the money for this addiction, but you didn’t want to ask.

“Some sage and other things to bless the house would be nice as well. Wouldn’t want any pests to keep bothering us.”

“Y/n!” You turn to face the chipper voice behind you, small box in hand. Baron had slipped away to one of the many kiosks around the area. He’s practically bouncing with excitement as he extends his hand to you. “I got something for you!”

“..Where on earth did you get money?”

“Al gave it to me because he said his brain would explode if he heard “stop requested" one more time. I wasn’t gonna complain about that, but I remembered I could use it on you.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Try it on already.” He opens the box and takes your wrist with his other hand. He slaps the leather bracelet round your arm, fitting it to the proper length for you as you turn your wrist to look at the front. A golden clock face was stitched into the fabric, a picture of a moth printed beneath the glass. Silver hands count the time with an auditable tick, marking the time as noon – and counting backwards. 

“You got me.. a broken watch?”

“What do you mean?” You both look at the clock, charging forward as intended. Confused, you drop your arm to your side.

“Never mind, I guess.” 

-

Alasdair reluctantly ventures off on his own, leaving you stuck with Baron by yourself. Having him anywhere near fragile objects wasn’t the brightest idea, especially when they were soulless cherubs staring deep into his own soulless body. You wander around the mall until Alasdair returns, Baron pointing out everything that piques his interest like a kid in a candy store. It was a bit refreshing to say the least. At least his full focus wasn’t on you.

“Y/n what’s that?”

You were walking along a shaded path when he found his next target of attention. It was a tall, black box; mirror glass planned around the under half and white text scribbled across its border. 

“Fortunes untold.” 

The most peculiar thing about the item was the figure within. Adorned with a black hood, skeletal fingers gripping the chair it sat upon. Blue led lights flashed from its sockets, shimmering faintly in the midday. 

“I think it’s a fortune teller.”

“A what?”

“You give it money and it predicts the future.”

“Sounds like a scam. Let’s do it.” Baron drags you over to the machine, taking his turn first as he deposits a coin into it. A card pops out from a slot beneath, Baron picking it up and reading aloud.

“ “Your aggressions may be your downfall” …. No clue what that makes. Your turn, Y/n.”

It’s not like you had anything better to do. You take the coin Baron holds out to you, walking up to the machine to place it inside. A card slides out even before the coin pasts through the slot, paper browned with age unlike Baron’s. The text is less bold, and more scratchy; five words spelled out that make a lump form in your throat.

“The fates are against you.”

Your hand shakes. Normal stuff like this wouldn’t get to you, but something feels off. You look back up at the fortune teller, head tilted ever so gently your way. Its eyes pierce through your skull; jaw more slack than before.

Leave.

“Y/n?’

Baron grips your shoulder, worry an easier expression to read with full features. “You’re spacing out again. Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” An idea comes to mind as you hold your head. “Actually, can you get me something to drink? It’s getting kind of hot.”

He lowers his head a bit. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave you alone?”

“I’ll be fine, don't worry.”

“Okay.” He races off to find the nearest drink stand. The air feels lighter once he leaves. Even though it started only seconds ago, it had been forever since you had a moment of peace to yourself. It couldn’t hurt to make it last longer by wandering off, would it? You look over at the fortune teller one last time. Its skin had returned and its eyes were a faded brown.

-

Looping around the corner, you venture on the outskirts of the center. A full weight had been lifted from your back the longer your isolation lasted. If you knew it wouldn’t send them both into a panic, this would have been a perfect time to do more research on freeing yourself from the chains that were your housemates. 

You pull the fortune card from your pocket, reading the words over and over; more carefully each time. Silly as it was, you wondered what real life connection could there be to it. The only thing that came to mind was them; two otherworldly forces under one roof with a love for one being fragile and bound to mortality unlike them. What could possibly be so special about you that made them crave existence by your side so badly.

The paper flies from your hand. The ticking in your ears beings; so faint that you pay no mind as you go after it. The wind carries it across the vacant street, stopping at the edge of an alleyway. Sirens blare as you pick it up, shaky breathes like a whisper from the alley – one growing stronger by the second. 

You turn your head, just as he does. A ski mask hangs in his grasp, a panicked gaze trained on you. He whips his other hand in your direction, and suddenly you’re facing down the long arm of a gun. You raise your hands above your head, knowing the best way to ease the situation was to remain calm. It didn’t matter either way. You had already seen his face. The ticking grows louder.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I’m just taking a walk.” 

He speaks through clenched teeth, tears hot at his cheeks. “You’re going to tell them where I am, alright you?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You saw my face…” His hands shake. He – he didn’t want to hurt anyone, but the fear of getting caught overturned any sense of righteousness in him. Muttering to himself, he repeats. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

You’re speechless. Nearly every scenario running through your mind comes as a blank towards any positive outcome for you – all but two. You know that one of them would save you, but would it be right to finally break in independence at your weakest moment? It would be hypocritical, but why were you pushing them away so hard in the first place?

“I’m so sorry.”

If there was one thing you should know about the man about to kill you, it was that he had no proper training with a gun before this morning. With an unsteady aim and improper resolve; it was nothing more than a stroke of ill fortune – when the bullet pierced straight through your heart. 

“Bar-"

It’s almost funny. Between an angel and a demon, the thing to put you out of your misery was the cruelty of humanity.

-

“Y/n? Where are you?”

Baron huffs in annoyance. He knows he got a little sidetracked, but that didn’t give you the right to run off without him. Refreshment and new gift in hand, he searches the sector for you.

“Y/n? Y/n?” 

With no luck with calling out, he decides to use other methods to find you. He sniffs the air. The scent of other humans is crowded, but the faint trail of yours reigns familiar and stronger than all. He follows it, far from the original meeting place and to a place where few inhabit. He catches a glimpse of someone turning the corner in the distance, picking up speed as he gives chase. 

“Hey, Y/n wait u-"

A muffled pop rings reverberates off the empty streets. 

The smell hits before he sees anything. 

One he had bore witness to only once before. The blood of the one that brought him back to the mortal realm. 

Something snaps within Baron. Like a rope with too much weight at one end. Something’s fading; dwelling from existence and leaving a hollow ache in his chest.  He can feel it. And Alasdair does too.

The distance between you and him is cut in a flash, distance footsteps still ringing into obscurity. His shoes become dyed in the horrible scent of the pool surrounding you. So sweet, and enticing it becomes nauseating. Your eyes were closed, limbs sprawled over the earth where you lay motionless. Baron falls to his knees beside you, the cooling blood soaking into the legs of his pants.

“Y-y/n?...” 

He scoops you into his arm. Your skin is clammy, the wound still leaks fresh blood. He tries to stop the bleeding, shaking you softly as tears run on your cheeks.

“Hey, wake up.”

You don’t respond. He shakes you a bit harder.

“Open your eyes. We can get you to AL. He can make you better. Please…”

You remain silent. Baron stands on wobbly legs, holding you tight against his body. He falters, crashing back down to the ground and squeezing you closer. This wasn’t how it should’ve ended. You had more time. You just had to. You needed more time together here. There were so many things he wanted to experience with you – it’s not far. Where were you now? Who would get you in the in? The thought of you at those pearly gates made him shake more. Alasdair can’t have you, not yet. Noone can have you, but him. 

“Y/n, don’t leave me.” 

You’re so cold. He lets out a wail unlike any creature imaginable. 

-

Drifting.

It feels like you’re lost out to sea, floating whichever way its waves took you. Silky, yet firm; it felt unlike any body of water you had ever been on. It feels relaxing; tranquil – like nothing existed before or after this moment. You open your eyes. Gray sand stretches for miles around you, no seeable end on the horizon. 

You hear the sound of running sand. Hourglasses hang in the sky above. Some just at the beginning of a cycle, while others reached their ends. Looking up, you notice something else over you – or someone to be more precise. 

A dark hood covered most of their features, chilly blue eyes staring back at you. Their skin clung so slightly to their bones there was hardly any different at all. Shadows wisped around their spidery limbs; six in total and coming from the center of their robe. Wings akin to a butterfly’s stuck from their back; riddled with holes and a pale black. 

Unfair. Unfair.

Its voice is soft, yet raspy; carried on the still winds. You struggled to understand.

“Huh?...”

“It is unfair. Such a prosperous life snuffed out so soon, before its time. Unnatural, yet still deserving of a chance.”

“What are you talking about?” 

It points to your chest. The wound was still there, but the skin and blood around it had grayed.

“It was not your time. It shouldn’t have been for a long time by mortal standards.”

It raises a hand upwards, plucking an hourglass from the fray. Unlike the others that had simply run out, this one was smashed open. 

“You hold the obedience of agents from both heaven and hell in your hands. An abnormal force, in a world that tries to see itself as balanced. By nature's rule, you should not be allowed to continue existing.” 

It holds the hourglass closer to you, images reflected on the last through your dead eyes. Blood splattered along the concrete, but it was not yours alone. Some spots were fresher, others were black. You spend so much time on them that you had yet to take note of the writhing body trying to pull itself closer to your corpse; stopped only by a beam of light through its backside.

Baron hisses in pain, but that doesn’t stop him. Clawing, banging, thrashing; in an attempt to grab you. His body was covered in wounds. Lighter nicks from human nails, and whole chunks of flesh torn from the stabs of a blade. He had reverted to normal form, skin caught in both sets of teeth. A foot holds him in place, heavenly light coming from above. 

“You need to calm down. Doing this won’t change anything.”

Baron snarls. He doesn’t care. The revenge on his tongue wasn’t enough. None could satisfy, yet he still craved more. The policemen that failed to catch the robber, his companions, every bystander in his way. All would be a sacrifice to his anger. Rage surging; pain still riddled his face as he reached out to you, calling your name weakly.

“You won’t bring them back like this!”

Alasdair; the voice of reason, wavers himself. He refuses to look at your body, to fully accept the fate that has fallen upon you; knowing it would ruin him even worse than it had Baron. Even with the chance of seeing you again, he could stomach seeing you like that. The mortal body was just as beautiful as the soul housed within. His eyes fall upon your corpse momentarily and that’s when Baron is able to break free once more.

You watch in silence, eyes falling to your hands in your lap. You were so tired. 

“So.. I’m guessing you’re a reaper?”

The figure nods.

“… Well, what happens now?”

“You return.”

“What?”

“It is… understandable how you have gathered those above you. I have seen your entire life within a single grain of sand.. I cannot let what nature decides be what takes you away. Wondering the sands of time, your glass has been like a gem in the rough.”

A hand scoops a handful of the sands around you, shoveling them back into your hourglass. In another, the reaper holds each shard of broken glass, placing them in order along the frame. It seals together with the placement of the last piece, leaving the rest of the glasses in the sky. The warmth returns to your skin, body full of life and functioning even with your heart blasted to bits. The damaged organ somehow manages to still pump blood.

“There still remains the state of your mortal form. The heart is too damaged to sustain you. I give you mine in its stead.”

It removes your heart as easily as a wart, hands snaking through its own ribcage to pull out a blackened heart. Just as easily, it places the organ into your chest. It feels no different than a normal heart, but you can tell it doesn’t belong. It holds yours in one hand like a prized treasure; fondly gazing over how it drips in its hand.

“I will return it on the eve of your true death. For now it is time for you to go back. We’ll meet again soon.”

-

And just like that, you return to your body. Your hair is sticky, clothes weighed down by rivers of blood. You slowly sit up, placing your hand over your chest. The hole was completely sealed, heart beating steadily. You slowly stand up, remembering the fight going on while you were dead.

Feathers and gore line the back alley streets, leading you right where the two were. Baron was on his back now, Alasdair kneeling on his chest and sword seconds away from decapitating him. The hatred in his eyes was worse than Baron’s fits by tenfold. He planned the demon for your death. For ruining those peace days you and him spent together, you blissfully unaware of his presence as it should have been. He’d make his death painful. Each time he crawled from hell, Alasdair would be there to cut him down once more. 

“Alasdair?… Baron?..”

Both individuals face you. Your voice is like a mirage to a dehydrated man’s delirium. A bit shaken up, you stand before them in perfect health. 

“I wish I stayed for that drink. My throat is killing me.”

“Y/n…?” Your name is uttered quietly by both, neither believing you to be alive. Believing isn’t necessary.  They can sense it. Every breath you take in. Every movement you make. Even the essence of life flowing through your body. 

Alasdair is on you first. This must be some trick. His grip on his weapon tightens. Just a trick by some lower level demon to get him to lower his guard for a chance to strike; but in the end – he does. He tosses his blade aside and wraps you in his arm. He apologizes, for failing you as your guardian. He promises to never let you far from his sight again. 

“I love you so much, my little cherub.”

Baron watches from the sideline; the pain in his body numb at the sight of you. He hugs you from the opposite side, laughing in disbelief as he inhales your scent. 

“You said my name… You came back.. Don’t leave us ever again.”

-

You return home with a piggyback from Alasdair. Baron protests and tries to get you away, but eventually gives up; content with watching you rest peacefully on the angel’s back. 

You all step inside, all lights on despite the fact nobody should be there. A scrawny body lays over your couch, face pressed into the cushions and in blissful slumber. As if sensing the other presences in the room, they awaken, rubbing sleep from their eyes with a dreamy smile.

“You’ve finally returned.”

Alasdair and Baron share a look.

“Excuse me-"

“Who the fuck are you?”

The new member of your household merely smiles more, showing a cracked watch hooked to their wrist. 

“Noone. Just the person that has taken Y/n's heart.”

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

i was supposed to die (you were supposed to live)

It's a cross-dimensional problem, so it requires cross-dimensional heroes to solve it.

He gathered the very best, everyone he's fought and bled with. The princess of flames and oceans. The genie who binds her own book together with page tears and grieving tears. An angry little brother who raised himself in a world that could never be whole. Girls who flew through worlds on a whim, hand-in-hand, only to return home in time for New Year. Rockstars, reapers, elves, cyborgs. Versions of him, too; one with sparks of chaos glittering off his fur and lightning in his soul, one with a backpack of rings and feet that didn't know how not to run, and one with a darkness inside he would never call upon and a brilliant, dazzling light he spread around him to make up for it. She recognized that in his eyes even if he didn't say it. It wasn't hard to do so.

She saw a similar spirit in the newcomer's eyes, too, and that was the first thing she saw of him. She recognized the eyes, then– the color, the shape, the way they darted side-to-side when he entered a room to assess what was inside. That feeling wasn't in the eyes she knew. She looked over the rest of him, then, seeing the familiar quills, the familiar way he crossed his arms when he didn't want to talk, the way his tail held stock-still assessing for threats. He had the same rings, she noticed, as hers; she wondered if they did the same thing. There was same red paint splashed on his shoes.

He looked up at her, then, and she saw that flash of painful recognition in his eyes. At her own steady blue gaze, at her skin, pale from lack of sunshine, at the way her hair curled around her ears. She knew from that look, then, that he was from a world without her. There were a lot of worlds without her, she'd found whenever she looked into them. People she'd lost lived instead. And if she lived, they died. It wasn't fair. Neither were any of these worlds. No world was fair towards anyone.

She looked back to him and held his gaze this time. He'd finished his shocked stare, and a block came over his expression, trying to block his emotions from everyone else in the room. It happened fast enough that she was probably the only one to see it. But she knew. Even in another world, she knew him. She knew him too well.

As they looked at each other, she tried to let her gaze soften, but she found herself holding strong to that same shielded look. It was probably because if she broke now, she'd break completely, and think about her version of him, left behind in her world which threatened to crumble. Everything dies, but not today. She'd think about them trying to kill each other, loyalties divided and bonds broken. Everything dies, but not today. She'd think about something small, like them at five and seven quarreling over what was best to put in stew. Or them at six and eight sleeping under the stars, naming them and wondering what could make them shine so bright. Everything dies. Or at nine and eleven getting stuck in a tree, waiting to be found and blaming each other, and then sitting and watching the sun set together. But not today.

She knew this wasn't her version of him, the same way he must have known instantly that she was different from whoever he knew. She didn't know this boy standing in front of her. He didn't know the girl in front of him. They knew nothing about each other and yet they knew absolutely everything. They had no relation to each other, no paths that had ever crossed, and they were family all the same. She wondered if siblings could recognize each other in every reality, or if it was just them.

"Shadow! There ya are!"

Sonic slid across the table, leaping down to tackle-hug the boy in front of her, who immediately shrugged him off and elbowed him to the floor. She glanced briefly towards the blue blur as he got up, dusting off his shoulders.

"Shoulda expected that, yeah. I see you just met Merlina! She's gonna help us out, too."

Everyone dies.

They knew each other.

Not today.

[obsessedwhim]

Weird One

Ichigo stormed his way through the Soul Society with a goal set in his eyes, glancing down each side of the street he moved in the right direction with a nod of his head. Ikkaku and Yumichika passed with a wave but the pair only received a curt reply in turn, the ginger to focused to realise this political move of slander. The squad members glanced at each other before throwing themselves over the shoulders of their friend.

"Oh hello there, Ichigo" The baldie grinned with an arm around the stiffening Kurosaki who soon cocked a brow in confusion while Yumichika leaned against his shoulder "So sorry, we didn't see you pass us and we thought we'd apologise"

"But.. I said hello" The squashed Reaper croaked as they began pulling him along, away from his desired route. Glancing between the two Ichigo knew Ikkaku was only seconds away from asking his favourite question.

Any moment now, the third seat would release his Zanpakuto and demand that Ichigo become his latest sparing partner but then a window opened, grabbing the male's attention quickly while the two bickered between themselves on what to do as a group.

Two bamboo panels swung open, and a pair of hands retracted from their finished task to slap together in satisfaction "Ahhh, much better" you hummed, it was far too nice of a day to work with closed windows you thought, turning back into the dark office you moved towards another closed window "Honestly Third Seat Yasochika, how do you work in such darkness" you asked a man sitting at his desk with many, probably important papers scattered across the counter's face, his glass covered stare raised to meet your eyes. Holding the man's strange gaze for a moment before he spoke with a finger twitching his glasses frame "I prefer working in the dark" he mentioned simply before diving back into the writing but you could only sigh at his answer "Well, today I'm bringing the light!" you cheered, opening another shadow bringer with a smile- hiding a short chuckle behind your hand as the Third Seat groaned at more rays of bright sun.

Ichigo could hear you nearby but didn't know what to do, with Ikkaku and Yumichika basically biofouling his shoulders, there would be no way to steal a moment alone with you if these two weirdos were around.

How was he going to ask you to out to lunch now?

Though it seemed Yumikicha's observational skills had already read the nonexistent room, the infamous Fifth Seat coiled a smirk before smacking a hand on the Substitute's shoulder with a proud aura "Ichigo you little scoundrel!" he giggled as the Ichigo in question began growing a bright red at the wordless accusation, Ikkaku interrupting the explosion of embarrassment crudely "Scoundrel? Well I wouldn't say he isn't a scoundrel..." he shrugged without much thought but with one nudge from his companion and a leading stare, Third Seat Madarame soon spotted a Squad Four member who happily chatted to a higher ranked officer "What? What's going on, why am I staring at this weakling?" Ikkaku questioned, his squad member groaned with fingers rubbing his temple "Idiot, they're not just a weakling now they're..." Yumichika sighed dramatically as he held a hand out to a frozen fruit "The current interest of this one"

"HAH?!" Ikkaku screeched, snapping Ichigo from his strained stature the substitute waved a hand at the two "Wow, it was so good to see you two but I.. have somewhere to be..!" the ginger flash stepped away without a second thought, well- there were maybe a few but he couldn't stay there a minuet longer! What if they tried something, what if they tried to help?? It would've been a D I S A S T E R!

Good thing he got out of there before something seriously cringe inducing happened, yep. A very good thing he left.

"Sooo, tell me about yourself" Yumichika leaned into your office with a pretty smile, which you found very strange "Me? Now why on earth would a Squad Eleven member want to know about me?" You flickered through a clipboard of notes, notes which need to be sent to Lieutenant Kotetsu.

"Well, let's say I know a.. interested party and I would... oh let's say, like... to help" he picked his words slowly to gain your interest, of course, the idea of a possible crush would be too much for anyone to pass up!

"Oh really? Be sure to tell them to send in a request form for a date since I'm busy" You read the first few lines as you passed the Yumichika-filled window and left through the door, where Ikkaku stood waiting for you with an impossible glare, staring down upon you like a God seeing imperfection for the very first time. His Hōzukimaru slanted over angled shoulders with his hands resting from the bamboo spear making him appear wider than usual, the red-eyed Seated officer leaned closer with a thoughtful hum "Really? You? Hmmmm..." Ikkaku then leaned back with a glance at Yukichika who appeared behind him "I don't get it, what's the appeal?"

"I'm at a loss myself really" the feathered beauty sighed as you glanced between them "Okaaaay, I'm... leaving now" you mentioned stiffly as you passed by the pair who still watched you with every step.

"They're cute... I guess" Yumichika offered but Ikkaku wasn't convinced "They must be incredibly powerful" he was certain about his answer but Yumichika could only counter with another loose breath "I don't think we'll ever understand that Ichigo Kurosaki"

Ikkaku nodded as they both sauntered into the sunset "He's definitely a weird one"

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hi!! I saw that your request were open so I wanted to request something!

Imagine reaper had a daughter with his (ex???) wife before he died / disappeared, she knew him as a hero and always admired him etc. so his daughter joined overwatch after a few years now that she was older and wanted to follow her dad’s steps (obviously not knowing the behind scenes of his job) but in a mission reaper sees her and is not capable of doing his job because he recognizes his little girl

I had an oc that was reapers daughter but saw a post about widowmaker with a child and I NEEDED someone to write one for reaper— THANK YOU, take your time and take care <333

𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝔹𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤

Words: 576

Also wording reader as his child, as I don't do female readers!

“Told you she would grow on you Gabe.”

“What.” He didn’t understand what Ana meant. If anything it was about Pharah, but if anything she grew on him years ago, not that he would admit it. She only sighed and shook her head, pointing behind him.

Finding his wife, Martina. Her hands were cupped around something that she held to her chest, slowly opening them. In her hands sat a pregnancy test. He only stared, so she rightfully got worried.

“Really?” She nodded. Instantly he rushed over to her, lifting her into his arms. He was never good at words, but his actions made up for it.

***

The months passed before you and your brother were born.While he took after her you were a mix of both. He became a mummy's boy, so Gabriel made sure you were a daddy’s kid. And with the amount of overwatch posters and apparel around it would’ve been surprising if you weren’t.

What was even more surprising was that he just didn’t return. None of the family realized until Jack, also known as Soldier 76, alerted you. But that wouldn’t do much when there was no trace of where he went.

So the next few decades you had to grow up without him present, with the closet being all the posters still hanging. Although they were quickly removed and hidden. It didn’t stop you from following his footsteps even as your mother testified.

It would be dangerous, even life risking. But you were willing to take that risk, after all your father did.

***

Arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you into the air, although it wasn’t hard to figure out it was. The massive muscles revealed it as Reinhardt, then came his voice, yelling even though he was right behind you.

“Look at you, finally grown up!” Suddenly his arms were gone but you weren’t on the ground. Instead he had thrown you into the air, making sure you safely land and stay on his shoulder.

“ANA!” There he went, bringing you along to show off that you were back, now to work.

***

Even if you just joined you were much more prepared than other recruits. Likely from the fact you had been training all your life with Ana, Jack and sometimes Reinhardt, who never wanted to hurt you during so.

So that came in handy very quickly. As you were selected for a mission, going with other official overwatch members. Ana, Brigitte, Genji, Cassidy and D.Va. Flown across the world to your location, Busan in South Korea.

It was a simple recon mission. Get in, find the needed information then leave. But you guys were never going to do it alone. Talon hiding in the shadows, keeping track of their own information.

Reaper had made his way around and behind your team, able to follow the familiar voices.

“Genji!”

“McCree!” Of course he would run into those two. Thinking his time with them was long but over, apparently not. Stepping out closer to watch the commotion, not expecting another familiar sight.

“McCree, don’t step any closer.”

“And why is that?”

“You don’t want to piss off Reyes do you?” Following his words you walked into their sights. Ultimately making McCree back off, not before complaining.

“Reyes won't be able to keep you safe forever.”

Even with Gabriel out of your life you were much more similar than you realized. And hopefully you didn’t become too close.

[thewriterg]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. pt.3

pairing(s): simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, john ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, simon ‘ghost’ riley x john ‘soap’ mactavish, force 141 x black!reader, r is referred to as ‘grim’

summary: These missions never go as planned is what you tell yourself after every stealth/informational mission you’ve been on in your career now after shooting down everything that moved in that alleyway you can ignore the pain in your chest Ghost and Soap however can not

word count: 3.4k+

warning(s): Red Room AU, slowburn-ish, past SA, past abuse, kidnapping, violence, weapons, childhood trauma, trauma in general, teen pregnancy, child loss, abduction, death, blood, destructive behavior, mentions of self harm, polyamory relationships, and language

A/n:—GIFs @slowillusion & @daniel-bruehl—

There was red ringing in your ears, something that didn’t simply come from the repeated bullets coming out of your gun no. You’d been used to by now it was a white noise to you that never seemed to never leave your life

You’ve even felt the siring pain that made its way into your shoulder in places more than one on or in your body you however have never felt such… rejection your body was beginning to put up

You’ve always welcomed death with open arms but you’d always manage to slip past the Grim reaper even though you’ve touched hands more than a normal person should in a life span

You’ve always welcomed death with open arms but you’d always manage to slip past the Grim reaper even though you’ve touched hands more than a normal person should in a life span

You’d really wish Soap and Ghost would stop screaming your name you just wanted peace with your thoughts and they were very aggravating to be disrupting such a personal moment alone with your thoughts

“There you go bonnie, that’s it lass open your eyes.” When was Soaps voice so… pretty? It was soft and you heard it coming from your left unlike the heavy breathing coming from your right where Ghost applied pressure to your shoulder

You weren’t completely out of it… you knew you were in the alley, you knew you were with two of your comrades, and that you were here because of a stealth informational mission

But of course

Just like you said

These missions never went as planned.

And now you were laying on the cold concrete a small pool of blood soaking the strap of your dress

You felt weak for letting anyone see you this vulnerable

It was disgusting.

So from laying on your back to putting your hand on the Scotsman’s shoulder propelling yourself up with a heavy breath as the two men yelled in disagreement

“You need to watch yourself sergeant” It was Simon’s gruff voice now that voided your ears as you rolled your eyes before meeting his blue ones that were wide and frantic almost

almost

“Been shot plenty, doesn’t bother me like it used to” You grumbled your words slightly slurring together as your hand still rested on Soaps shoulder and Ghosts forearm

“The trucks not far, I can make it” Your voice left no room for arguing and the only thing the men could do was help you to your feet in assistance hissing at you along the way if you tried to take over

Once you got to your feet your head span in circles and almost knocked you right back on your ass but you stood tall and suddenly the stilettos you wore felt like pins in your foot

Not that they didn’t before

“Fuckkk” The groan erupted from the back of your throat without your permission

“Fuck this, Johnny you got my six” Ghosts voice raided your ears before you were swept from the ground pressed against Simons chest as he held you bridal style his voice left no room for any objections and have you been in a better position you would’ve kicked him in his nuts for putting his hands on you

but here you all were

Ghost carrying you out of the alley

Soap occasionally letting bullets fly from a pistol if an enemy tried to erupt from the shadows

And You

Little ole you

Your groans were the only thing Ghost could bring himself to hear

Not Johnny shouting at a enemy

Not the gunshots that flew past his temples

Not the gravel that crunched and groaned under his weight

But your noises of discomfort

“I know Grim. I got you” His deep voice shielded your body’s as you ran through crossfire your lids began to get heavy and his fingers began to slip

But you didn’t close your eyes

And he didn’t drop you from his hold

💌💌💌💌

Your head felt fuzzy and the next thing you knew you were approaching the truck as Ghost flung the door open wide almost ripping it from its hinges and Soap throwing himself into the drivers seat starting the car and throwing it in drive before Simon could get himself in the vehicle fully

Your eyes fluttered o p e n and closed as the lieutenant applied a cracking pressure on your shoulder and collarbone growling at you to keep your eyes o p e n… to keep your eyes on him

You both knew you were failing

“Johnny step on it!” He shouted

“I am!” He called back

“You keep your damn eyes open Sunshine!”

Sunshine?

You couldn’t bring yourself to think about the fact that Ghost the infamous Simon Riley the man that you unknowingly competed over the years with as people argued over which one of you held the title of a human Grim Reaper just called You sunshine

Your eyelids felt like weights so you finally put the dumbbells down letting your eyes close

💌💌💌💌

You sat in a chair at a table staring at the ceiling of the room you tried to ignore your senses around you and it usually worked where you went void of the world.

But it wasn’t

Because people didn’t get the damn hint

Especially Daisy.

You wouldn’t say she was your rival in all honesty she was fighting with herself, but sometimes you would humor her and feed into whatever antagonization she wanted to portray

Daisy was a brunette with shoulder length hair when it wasn’t in a strict bun bangs resting just above her brows, pale skin, and rosey lips. She was only an inch or two shorter than you and even then it wasn’t very noticeable.

It was a cycle the both of you repeated

You would crack either one of you would crack and it was mostly Daisy you’d fine one another on the roof or at the gun range ready to jump or blow your brains out with a cigarette in hand and very few words talking each other off the ledge each time

You were the Grim Reaper you would be standing over her as genially as possible her soul in your arms as you carried her away as gently

She was the the flowers and vines that would wrap around your dead body shielding you from humanity’s grasp never dying always up and vibrant

Even though you were each others rival, enemy, arch nemesis, or even guilty pleasure. You were each others.

(You'll break that foot that you're standing on I'll walk with the other one)

“You’re just Jealous Y/n.” You finally looked over to the girl your eyes no longer directed at the ceiling you weren’t supposed to know each others names that was if you could remember your name some girls were brought in at young ages where they couldn’t remember their own names only the ones that were forcefully given to them

Even if you did remember your name you were not to use it and if you were caught doing so you would be executed they left no room for misconstruction or imperfections

But here you both were.

(do what you want to, do what you want to, be what you want to.)

“Because I got better, because I have a chance.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she looked down at you smugly and small smirk on her pink lips

“They didn’t let you go on that mission because you were better Daisy, they just gave up on trying to make you better.” You stood from your seat and her smugness barely faltered as she just slightly moved her brows to her hairline tilting her head shrugging her shoulders before you walked away

💌💌💌💌

Suddenly you were up, wide awake.

Your dress was up to your upper thigh keeping your underwear covered as someone pressed down on the syringe the rest on the way down with way more force than needed it was stim shot

You were up but you were so down

You couldn’t move but you couldn’t close your eyes all you do was breath heavily and dart your eyes frantic as uncomfortable noises e s c a p e d muffled from your sealed mouth

“I know lass we got you, I got you.” It was Soap who held you now cradling you like an infant the Scotsman observed your glossy eyes and jagged breaths as you slightly twitched in his arms

You weren’t fighting to stay alive.

You never were.

“L.T!” The brunette shouted

“I KNOW JOHNNY!” The blonde yelled back

The truck scurried to the closet entrance of medbay they could find Simon jumped out the car not bothering to shut the door running to the other side of the vehicle flinging the door open as Johnny kicked it with his foot

Ghost took your body into his arms and you began to feel sick the way your limp body was bouncing up and down in his hold as he began to sprint bursting through the doors of the corridor 

“I need a medic! Medic!” It wasn’t long before nurses and doctors were swarming him having to practically rip you from his tight grasp promises on top of promises you would be alright

those were just promises

it’s always promises that leave to mayhap

mayhap is a possibility it leads to; maybe, might, probably, even sure

Not; yes, for sure, without a doubt, and affirmative

Simon Riley didn’t want promises he wanted affirmatives

His hands stained with your blood some of it dried under his fingernails he barely could acknowledge Soap his white suit now staining crimson as they watched the team of medics roll you away on a bed

Ghost couldn’t register Prices hand on his shoulder and Soap couldn’t register Gaz’s concerned pleas to tell him what happened and no one bothered with König’s glossy puppy eyes as he stood in the corner

💌💌💌💌

“What the hell do you want from me Daisy!?” You screamed throwing a glass vase Meer of five feat from where she stood as she flinched a gasp rolling from her tongue out of her mouth into the open air

The brunette backed away in steps as you stalked closer until her back finally hit the the wall with a thump and you could visibly see her swallow thickly staring up at you with glassy puppy dog eyes

“Your either here because you want me to you want me to fight you or you want me to fuck you and we both know you hate my guts so get the fuck out of my room.” You weren’t screaming anymore but your voice was low and had a dangerous underline to it

It made Daisy Dizzy

As you went to walk away like you always did a hand caught your sleeve and you slowly turned back around to see the brunette darting her eyes around the room like she was contemplating what to do

Her eyes finally met yours

She reeled you in

Pressing a shy kiss to the corner of your mouth

You stared down at her for a second a second to long Daisy thought as she went to shy away

But you didn’t let go

Instead her soft jaw landed in your hands as you kissed her rosey lips soon to turn red you couldn’t think

Her legs wrapped around your waist and your hands wrapped around the base of her throat she left kisses on your neck and scratches down your back until it rubbed raw

You were both drowning together in the most enjoyable way possible

💌💌💌💌

Your senses came to you one by one first it was the smell of bleach and cold. The type of cold that doesn’t chill your body but bones and the thoughts in your head

Second was your sense of touch you felt the cotton sheets under your exposed back and yet your front was covered in thin sheet like wear you could also feel the IV needle in your wrist

Third was the taste of sandpaper in your mouth it was dry and scratchy going down your throat water would barely do anything for the quench

Next was your hearing, the sound of the heart monitor steadily beeping and could imagine the green pixelated lines steadily going up and down in a pattern

Last was your sight you were reluctant to open your eyes you’d been in this position before the bright lights after days of darkness were a pain you’d never forget but you did it anyway peel your eyes open with a small squint relief flushing through your veins at the dim room before you began to scan your surroundings

It was empty in your room to the common eye, but that was the common eye. Not the eye of hard cold trained assassin working in the military

Simon sat in a chair just in front of the wall still as a sniper locking eyes with a target and that’s what is was like he’d been waiting, observing, yearning to see your eyes lock with his

When you looked at him you could notice the rough look in his eyes not like lack of sleep it didn’t take a genius to know that your lieutenant wasn’t getting any sleep no how it wasn’t the physical tiredness

The type of tiredness you’d be fighting for days in your head going back and forth with the voices until you just give up and let them scream in you ear as you watched the world past by silently

“You called me sunshine” Your raspy voice stopped Ghost in his tracks his lanky yet buff arm reaching for the ‘nurse help’ button as he met your eyes once again

“You’ve been out for two days, doctor says You should be dead with all the blood you lost”

‘There he goes again, that bastard.’

You’ve slipped past him again why won’t the son of a bitch just take your hand and leave your shell of a body here you couldn’t begin to space off as Simon held a un-opened bottle of water to your lips and as you tried to grab it yourself the lieutenant shook your hand away pressing the rim of the bottle to your mouth

You finally caved in staring at the swaying liquid through the plastic bottle as some of its contents slipped into your mouth down your throat disintegrating the dry sandpaper in your throat

You dared to look up why? You had no clue. But you did see blue eyes staring back at you you could finally take him in more he had on a black hoodie which covered his mane of hair along with the simple black balaclava on his face

Had you lost feeling in your face? You own balaclava rested on the tip of your nose as you greedily swallowed the water the fabric touching over your skin you barely breathed your heart monitor dropping off slightly until You finally began to pull back a Ghost let up

“Team is worried about you Price had to pry Soap away from your side, Gaz’s locked up in his room blowing an eardrum with his headphones up so loud, and König can’t even bring himself to step foot in here keeps staring at the door like a puppy kicked out” You were silent which wasn’t abnormal but somewhat unusual

“They don’t mean it.” Four words, fourteen letters, seven vowels, and yet Ghost understood every underlying tone about it and it pissed him off heavy

“The hell they do Grim, I’ve been in here watching you waste away, nobody wants to eat food that’s not yours”

💌💌💌💌

“What are you doing Lass?” Soaps voice fell over your ears while you chopped up peppers on an old wood cutting board with a Nakiri Bocho knife in hand something you were surprised the base even had Gaz standing next to him also with a confused expression

“I’m not listening to any of you complain about your stomachs from eating that slop in the cafeteria, go tell Price and Ghost dinner will be done in fifteen and if they don’t come down here I will go up there” That was probably the most words you said in one setting Gaz thought to himself

Without another word the boys left to go do what you told them you never left any room for arguing and they knew that

“König set the table.” The fact you could demand a 6’10 soldier to do something and they would get to it no hesitation was a powerful thing but you might as well put him to use since he seemed to follow you everywhere like a lost puppy

💌💌💌💌

Ghost stood from his chair the legs of it pushing back scraping against the smooth white concrete floor at the motion with a loud ‘SCREEECH’

“Price has been smoking more Cigars then I can bring myself to count”

💌💌💌💌

You sat outside watching the horizon on the bench you had claimed as your own balaclava secured on your face and you didn’t bother to look over to your left to see Price sitting next to you smelling of pine and cigars with that God awful hat on his head

He didn’t utter a word and you appreciated the fact while the cigar smoke blew in your face as the wind pushed by carrying it away and one moment the brunette that was turning gray had a cigar in his hand and the next he didn’t as it rested against in between your fingers and you took a drag letting the smoke settle in your throat carrying between your lungs

“Smokings bad for your age don’t need you wasting away and earlier than you have to” Price chuckled at that shaking his head he knew what to do with kids soldiers like you he had to do it with Ghost and their relationship was successful

“Sure kid” The captain knew he had you right then and there as you both stared into nothing with one another

💌💌💌💌

“König is hunched over sulking because he doesn’t have anyone else to follow” Your eyes began to barely water you wouldn’t crack under a little yelling

But you eyes watered for the first time in years and that was too much progress for your liking

💌💌💌💌

You sat in the gun range with a cigarette lit in between your fingertips as you took a drag from the ‘cancer stick’ as you called it. König didn’t really understand if you knew the result of smoking the damn things then why did you do it anyway?

Your relationship was warming up when one day you just stopped in you tracks and demanded to know why the soldier was following you around everywhere like a ‘lost puppy or lovesick fool’

König couldn’t answer you as he stood there stuck in place thankful for the hood that covered his appearance as his face burned a pink and red and you simply rolled your eyes before beginning to walk away as the man just stood there

“Well Are You Coming or not because I’m hungry?” Your voice called out to him and he scurried following behind you as you both headed to the cafeteria

But that was about two months ago and this was now

The German mountain of man sat next to you letting the smell of smoke and gunpowder fill his nostrils

“König you should stay away from me” He snapped his head towards you at the statement already bombarding you with questions slipping through his teeth

“Im not good for you” You didn’t say anything more you didn’t go on a rant of self hatred you just simply sat there waiting for a reaction yelling, throwing things two inches away from your head, the degradation.

But it never came.

What did come was a large hand on your shoulder covering it while without so much a stretching it

“Unsinn, I’m not going anywhere Meine Taube. If you decide to change I’ll be there, if you stay your old special self I’ll always be there” König didn’t expect a response and he didn’t get one but you still sat there with him

And he knew he had you

💌💌💌💌

Ghosts hands held the white remote in them pressing the red ‘nurse help’ button before sitting down on the table on wheels

“I’ll tell the team you’re up” His voice was ice cold as he walked out of the room the door slamming shut behind him leaving you alone

All alone

Is all you know

Alone.

Alone..

Alone…

💌💌💌💌

Let me know if you want to be added to this series or any other taglist

Taglist; @kdkj122920 @whore4dilfs @piper570 @tomhardy41 @redwolfxx @abbiesxox @multitargaryen @gumboisyum @catied32 @tamzindouglas @comedinwithmeyeh @justmare @msecho19 @wolfyland07 @elijahssuit @jjunlsblog

[manawari]

Grim Reaper!Lim Tae-gyu

"What? Never seen a grim reaper with a bow and arrow before?"

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade.

There was a secret Lim Tae-gyu liked to hide in the depths of his soul.

Awakening for the first time, a malodorous aura brushed against his nose. Perhaps the mana of an S-Rank? Tae-gyu shrugged it off and continued on his way as his country's newest powerful hunter.

Nevermind the lurking darkness now resided in his hands.

. . . . .

The first strange sign was when Tae-gyu found a murder of crows flocking in front of his window. It was suspicious to see such a thing in the very morning, yet he elected to ignore it, believing he had nothing to do with the presence of those dark-feathered birds.

Unbeknownst to him, the crows followed him above the clouds. They flocked nearby his office. They accumulated on every surface he was beneath in. A sense of fellowship and reverence was drawn to the oblivious hunter, who was just then establishing his guild.

They saw him as their superior.

An entity they were willing to serve.

Time marched on, the clock whirled, and Lim Tae-gyu was caught in a difficult state. After defeating the boss in the dungeon, bodies littered the cold ground aimlessly, and incessant rivers of blood streaming through the open wounds; the hunter's eyes stretched in vast horror. The culprit remained stood, his blade covered in deep scarlet red.

A wicked, maniacal grin crooked across his lips. "Like what you see, Guild Master?"

Lim Tae-gyu's breath quivered. He could see the fallen hunters on the ground had begged for mercy and fought with all their might until their last breaths. Unfortunately, it had to be none other than a hunter's blade. Tae-gyu gritted his teeth— I did not create this guild for someone to kill his own people!

Without a passing thought, he stretched his bow and summoned an arrow, glaring coldly at the hunter as if he was a magic beast. He let go of the string and the arrow launched across the place, successfully piercing into the hunter's chest. His hands went rigid upon using his powers to kill a human. Nonetheless, it was a human who shed no mercy and comradeship.

Shortly after the kill. . . A dark grey shadow emerged from the body. It carried the same countenance of the hunter. Tae-gyu sensed the same vague feeling all over again, the gut-wrenching unpleasant stench, or could it be— the smell of death. The S-Rank padded toward the torpid soul, opening his mouth to say;

"May you rot in hell."

The spirit faded into existence.

Movements rose behind him, Tae-gyu turned to face the melancholic souls of the dead hunters. His chest clenched at their end. He knew they had a family, a life they could've continued, and yet. . . Fate had a twisted plan.

"Go rest now," he said to them. "I promise to not let this situation happen again."

A few smiled as they disappeared.

There was a weight that had been lifted from his shoulders. Tae-gyu glanced on his bow, remembering the past event occurred moments ago, the way the arrow struck and took a single life, summoning the body's spirit. It was as if it was an arrow of death. Lim Tae-gyu figured there must be more than to his abilities as they seemed.

When he got out of the gate, a crow perched on his shoulder, croaking. Tae-gyu stared at it and raised his finger to gently caress its head.

"You waited long, didn't you?" The crow blinked and fluttered its wings. Tae-gyu took it as a yes and watched it took off to the distance.

They say, a dark entity roamed the earth. It only wanted one thing: soul. Human or animal, it reap for spirits to collect and send to the afterlife. Only those who were near death would meet the entity. If it appeared, the end was near. A long cloak shrouded its figure, leaving trails of ruins at its wake, as each step insinuated the meanders of the Grim Reaper, looking for a spirit to escort to the other world where life could not go.

Rather than a scythe, the Grim Reaper used a bow and arrow.

As even from afar, no matter how far one could be from death, when their time was over. . . It would not hesitate.

Overtime, the crows became his companions and messengers. When a crow greeted him, Lim Tae-gyu knew there was a soul waiting to meet him.

He met various people and heard unique stories. In their eyes, he was not a hunter, but a grim reaper who came to escort them to the world where they would rightfully be. Only he could remain in the world and embrace death simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, but this is where it ends now," said Tae-gyu at the spirit. He perched above a garbage bin — a corpse laid beneath the spirit of a woman who had chosen to die alone in a tight alley, unable to survive the attacks of a dungeon break. "From the way I can see it, you were walking home from work, weren't you?" The woman looked sorrowful. "Don't worry, I'll make sure your body will be found either way."

It was the least he could do.

"Luckily, I don't run out of mana when doing these tasks." Tae-gyu muttered after the spirit had disappeared. The crow bobbed its head in agreement. He grinned at his feathered companion. "Summon your flock and I'll prepare a feast for you guys back home."

The crow instantly lit up and croaked in joy, fluttering its wings as it rose in the air. The crows had been keeping his loneliness at bay ever since he had embraced his new, yet strange powers, and there was no denying that Tae-gyu had formed a bond with them. Especially when both were association with death.

If death was immortal, could he, a personification, be as well?

It was a question he'd yet to find an answer.

[psychee92]

Why Elain giving back TT is significant [ACOSF & CC Spoilers] 

In ACOFAS, we learn what happened after Elain used TT to stab (or kill) Hybern.

“You honestly think he’d ever give up Truth-Teller?” “He gave it to Elain,” Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case. “She gave it back,” I amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the King of Hybern’s throat. But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back. Mor hummed to herself.”

I have seen many people using this argument against Elain having a connection to TT—when, in fact, it means the opposite, especially considering what we learn in both ACOSF and (most importantly) HOSAB.

But first, let’s recap what we know about Elain’s (alleged) connection to TT:

Azriel had never before let another person touch that knife—until Elain.

Elain, who had never used a weapon, accepted it, despite having rejected other options before (remember, Cassian had offered her a weapon prior to her accepting TT from Azriel).

Elain actually used it—and by using it, answered Feyre’s plea for help, thus saving Nesta and Cassian’s life.

When using TT, Elain stepped out of a shadow, something we have only ever seen Azriel do.

And by using TT, Elain ultimately changed the course of the war.

What is also interesting is that we see this scene through Feyre’s eyes—and the Cauldron’s, so we get a glimpse of how the Cauldron feels about Elain.

Now, at the end of HOSAB, we learn that TT is connected to the Starsword.

And what do we know about the Starsword?

That it actually answers to two people, not one. It recognizes and chooses both Ruhn and Bryce.

Yet Cormac glowered at the Starsword peeking over Ruhn’s broad shoulder. “Rumor has it that the sword sings for my bride, too.”

Ruhn seemed to force himself to look at Bryce as he said, “It’s true.” So he’d seen her glare, then. “The sword’s as much yours as it is mine.”

The Starsword deemed Ruhn worthy, and recognized Bryce as kin.

“That your son, not you, retrieved the Starsword from the Cave of Princes in Avallen’s dark heart. That your son, not you, stood among the long-dead Starborn Princes asleep in their sarcophagi and was deemed worthy to pull the sword from its sheath.”

Her sword—it was her sword, and Ruhn’s. And with that light in her veins, with the star that slumbered inside her heart, the Starsword had recognized her not as a royal, worthy Fae, but as kin. Kin to those who had forged it so long ago. Like called to like.

So we now know that TT can also have two owners: one deemed worthy, and one it recognizes as kin.

Because what else do we learn about these weapons?

“That sword belongs to Theia’s female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line.”

These weapons are passed down the female line, not the male.

I am still surprised when I see readers connecting Bryce to Azriel through TT, when we know from HOSAB that the weapons belong to the female descendants of Theia, NOT the male.

Also interesting to note: Bryce does not want the Starsword—does not want to claim it.

“I don’t need a fancy sword to add to it.” “But I do?” “Honestly? I think you don’t know how special you are, Ruhn.” His blue eyes flickered. “Thanks.” “I mean it.” She grabbed his hand, and light flared from her chest. “The sword came to you first for a reason.”

The sword came to Ruhn first—just as TT came to Azriel.

And even more interesting: the scene where Bryce uses the sword.

The Starsword sang with light, her power flowing into it. Activating it. And nothing had ever felt so right, so easy, as plunging the blade into the bony chest of the wounded Reaper. It arced, bellowing, black blood spurting from its withered lips. The others screamed then. So loud she thought the sewer might come down, so loud she nearly dropped the blade to cover her ears.

Which mirrors the scene where Elain uses TT:

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

The Cauldron purred in Elain’s presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. Elain backed away a step. Choking, blood dribbling from his lips, the king gaped at Nesta.

Unlike with Bryce, however, we do not have Elain’s POV of the events leading up to this scene, or how she felt during it, so we do not know if the knife responded to her in the same way.

But it does make you wonder: did it feel as right to her, as it did to Bryce? Given how afraid she had been up until that point—vomiting from terror—she appeared as an avenging angel in this scene, almost as if she’s done this before, almost as if it felt right.

Also similar is the return of the sword and knife to the men who found the weapons first, who were deemed worthy to possess them. Despite Bryce using the sword, it returns to Ruhn, and stays with him until he asks her to take it with her.

Similarly, Elain returns TT to Azriel after using it. Will TT find its way back to her? Will Azriel, like Ruhn, offer it to Elain again?

Remember: when Azriel picks up the sword in HOSAB, it does not react to him. We do not see a change in him when he touches it, nor do we see any change in the sword when near the other IC members.

The male’s face didn’t soften as he picked up the sheathed Starsword, then gestured for her to step closer.

Elain is, of course, absent, and I am 99.99% sure that Sarah hinted at her being somewhere nearby (bread and roses) for a reason. Could this be it? Will the sword react to her the same way it reacts to Bryce? The same way the Cauldron reacts in Elain’s presence?

Could Elain activate the Starsword? Did she activate TT the way Bryce did, the way Nesta infused other swords with her power?

“Yes,” Amren said. “Only the Great Powers could do that—Gwydion was given its powers when the High Priestess Oleanna dipped it into the Cauldron during its crafting.” Cassian’s blood chilled, waves rippling over his skin. “One touch from Nesta’s magic while the blade was still hot …” “And the blade was infused with it.”

I still think that Nesta losing most of her powers at the end of ACOSF was done on purpose, to make Elain take center stage in future events. At this point, she is the only being alive who has Cauldron-given powers, similar to the Starsword and TT.

“You stole from the Cauldron,” I said to Nesta, who seemed ready to jump between all of us and Elain. “But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?”

And what does Bryce need at the end of HOSAB?

And she had no way to get home. Unless Aidas or Apollion knew how to use the Horn. Had magic that could charge it.

Bryce ends up in Prythian because she is looking for someone who can help. Sarah mentioned during one of her interviews that her ending up in Prythian while looking for help is not a coincidence—help is in Prythian.

With Nesta’s Cauldron-stolen powers mostly gone, Elain is the only one who can both use the Horn and the only one who has the power to charge it.

“Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power.”

“When Briallyn was Made, it likely removed from her the Dread Trove’s glamour, for lack of a better term. Recognized her as kin. Where she might have glanced over a mention of the items before and never thought twice, now it stuck. Or perhaps called to her, presented itself in a dream.” All of them, all at once, looked at Nesta. “You,” Amren said quietly, “are the same. So is Elain.”

[ghostlyrps]

@papermint-at-your-service

Four narrow, golden eyes watched from the shadow of a building.

Reaper observed the Overlord's assistant, tail lashing behind him. Finally, it seemed, the Eel Sinner was alone. Normally he was with Ghost of all Sinners, and he knew damn well he wouldn't be getting close to anyone Ghost got attached to without sharp teeth snapping at his throat and talons trying to tear at his flesh. Maybe a stinger through the torso if he was unlucky.

Dying from a huge hole in your chest was not a fun way to go- especially when Ghost's stinger had a barb on it like a damn fishhook. It liked to get caught and tear even more flesh when they pulled it out.

Thoughtfully, Reaper ran his hand along the angelic steel blade of his scythe. If he really wanted to hurt Ghost, he could kill the eel right now. When you took away what people cared about, they had less to fight for. Less reason to live.

But he was very much aware of who this Sinner was. Who he belonged to.

Reaper would not make an enemy of the Vees.

Not when he was seeking employment.

As it turned out, having a giant moth monster that hates you ruining hits and making them more messy than usual(and that was saying something with how Reaper carried out his job) was bad for business. Either he sought out work elsewhere or started charging less.

He growled under his breath. Frankly, he hated both ideas.

But he supposed making connections didn't hurt.

Finally, Reaper heaved his scythe over his shoulder, stepping out of the shadows and into the path of Vox's assistant.

"Good day, isn't it?" He stopped in front of the eel Sinner, blocking his path forward. "Mind if we chat?"

[the-lonelybarricade]

Till Death Do Us Part - Feysand Halloween

A oneshot based on this silly text post I made about Grim Reaper Rhys coming to claim Feyre's soul. Happy Halloween Eve!

Word Count: 2.3k

Read on AO3

-

“Feyre! What… deal… make…?”

Feyre’s brows pressed together. “What?”

She pressed the phone closer to her ear, straining to decipher Mor’s voice over the blaring of traffic to her right. She huffed, pressing a finger to her free ear as she dodged through the crowd of people headed the opposite direction.

Remind me not to walk through central London at lunch hour again, she thought, especially not on a Sunday. She shouldered herself past the tourists crowding to see St. Paul’s Cathedral just before it struck the hour. 

Bong. Bong. Bong.

She let her stride match their ringing, one foot for every strike.

“I said, ‘what deal did you make with the devil?’”

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Feyre laughed. “I promised to clean his car on the weekends.”

Bong. Bong. Bong.

“No, seriously, Fey. Did you have a lawyer look at the contract? I could have mine—”

Whatever Mor was about to say was cut off by the ear-splitting shriek of the ambulance blending with the final three strikes of St. Paul’s; Bong. Bong. Bong.

The ambulance hurled around the corner, and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that now she should be able to carry on the conversation without so much noise in the background.

“What did you—”

Bong.

She paused, turning her head toward the dome of the cathedral.

“...Feyre?”

“Sorry, I’m still here.” She glanced around the crowd, reading the expressions to see if anyone else had noticed. “That’s so weird,” she said to Mor. “What time is it?”

“Noon?” There was an edge of frustration to Mor’s voice, and Feyre sensed she was losing patience with such a disorientated phone call. Still…

“They just struck the cathedral bell thirteen times,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “I was counting.”

“Well,” Mor said, and Feyre could imagine the shrug that accompanied it, “maybe you counted wrong.”

“Could be.” Most likely. There were twelve people in that cathedral whose singular job was to ensure the time was struck accurately. But Feyre could have sworn…

“Fey,” Mor snapped, so sharply that Feyre stopped in her tracks from where she’d been about to cross the road. “Are you going to tell me about your new job or not?”

She’d missed the green pedestrian light, but it had only just changed as the roads looked empty.

“Well, they offered me—” 

Another blistering horn cut through the air, and Feyre might have rolled her eyes that the city was so insistent on interrupting their conversation, but her body slammed into something hard before she could.

Feyre heard shouting, and Mor’s garbled voice on the other end of the phone. Then it all turned to static until even that lessened to a single, harmonic buzz. Like someone had struck a tuning fork.

“Are you alright, darling?”

That voice was smooth and rich and lingering, like a shot of honeyed whiskey.

Feyre groaned, peeling her eyes open to see someone hovering over her, his figure illuminated so intensely by the sun overhead that she couldn’t see his face.

“No,” she said, reaching up to rub her forehead. “You hit me with your car.”

“I didn’t hit you with anything.” He reached out his hand, and Feyre reluctantly accepted. His hands were warm—surprising, since the autumn air had been notably crisp this afternoon. And when he pulled her up, the shadows lifted from his features.

She couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her. She had seen attractive men, but none that looked like him. Raven black hair, golden brown skin, and bright, vivid blue eyes that were so deep they looked violet under the London smog. The color was beautiful, but it wasn’t what made her feel breathless.

Feyre had never seen eyes that expressive before. Dancing with so much humor and mischief—maybe even a little bit of sadness. His lips were curled into a smile that wouldn’t make her think it, but… if she looked up, she could see it. That little waver in his eyes as they stared at each other, the smallest crack in the armor that made her think he wasn’t nearly as amused as he pretended to be.

The urge to paint it—to try and capture that subtle vulnerability—struck her much harder than his car evidently had. And all she really wanted was to be on her way so she could try to capture the image while it lasted in her mind. 

“I think I’m fine,” she said to the man. “So, uh, I think I’ll just be on my way now. I hope your car is okay.”

He opened his mouth and she turned away before he could insist she stay—only to immediately walk into the scene of a horrific car accident. She couldn’t hear the sirens, but she could see them flashing as she watched the paramedics lift a woman onto a stretcher. A woman who looked an awful lot like…

“That’s… me,” she said, dumbstruck.

“That’s you,” the man agreed, moving to her side as they both examined the wreckage.

“Am I…” she looked down at her hands, realizing for the first time that they were translucent, shimmering as though she weren’t even there. With a frown, she stumbled further into the scene of the accident, watching as the paramedics’ lips moved but no sound came.

Feyre reached down, trying to pick up her phone, but her hand only slipped through.

“Am I dead?”

The man had followed, and was staring down at her though long lashes framed with pity. “Yes.”

“I could touch you,” she reasoned. “Are you dead?”

A soft laugh wafted through this space outside time. He shook his head. “Not quite.”

“Are you… God?”

He smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Wouldn’t it be fun if I were in control of this whole universe? Oh, the things I would change.”

Objectively, Feyre knew there was no heart beat in her chest, but she could still feel it speed up. “Are you…” she lowered her voice. “The devil?”

Another laugh. “Why, because I’m so handsome?”

Temper getting the better of her, she snapped, “Well, you certainly are a prick.”

“Ding, ding, ding.” He angled his head, blue-black hair shifting with the movement, hands still in those stupid pockets. “Or is that insensitive of me? Given your bell has been tolled, and all.”

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hoping it read as standoffish and not… scared, which she was trying very hard not to be. “Do you show up at every death to be this cruel?”

“Cruel?” He sighed, looking up towards the gray sky. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Feyre. I’m trying to distract you from your pain.”

“I don’t have any pain,” she said, watching numbly as the ambulance doors shut. The woman they were carrying off had been covered in blood, but… if getting hit by that car hurt, then she certainly hadn’t noticed. 

“Not that kind of pain, Feyre.”

His voice… She turned, meeting a face twisted with anguish as the man pressed a hand to his chest. “In here. I can feel it. When I come to collect humans, I can see their lives. Feel the same things they do.” He sighed. “You were so young.”

“So you’re… what, like a grim reaper?”

Just as quickly as it had come, all that emotion melted back into irreverence, like he was merely changing clothes. He bowed at the waist. “They call me Rhysand—God of Death. I guide mortals to their final resting place.”

“Rhysand,” she repeated, mulling over that name. Something in it tugged at her. “That must be a shitty job.”

His expression didn’t change, but she wondered what he had seen in his lifetime. What kind of burden weighed on someone who felt the death of every mortal. He seemed… gentler than she was expecting. And she knew it made her a wretch, but Feyre wondered if she couldn’t appeal to his compassionate side.

“Rhysand—”

He held up his hand. “Wasn’t your friend trying to warn you about deals with the devil, Feyre? Death is the one thing you can’t cheat, can’t outrun.” That smile stretched, turning wicked in its promise. “I make sure of it.”

“That is to say… you can make a deal.”

“I’d advise against it.” Rhysand surveyed her carefully. “There are very few things a dead mortal could offer me. You’ve no money, no power…” he stepped closer, until they were face to face, and swept a large thumb over her bottom lip. “You can’t even show me what you could do with this pretty mouth.”

Feyre was watching his eyes—finding that they gave away far more than the rest of his expression. She could still see that underlying sadness, beneath all the mischief carried in his grin.

She arched her brow. “Is that what you’re after then? Companionship?”

Rhysand shrugged. “It can get lonely, wandering this realm on my own. Sure, I meet thousands of dead mortals each day, but they’re gone—” he snapped his fingers “—just like that.”

“So…” she pitched her voice low, looking up at him through her lashes. “If I promise to show you what my pretty mouth can do once you put me back in my body, will you give me a second chance?”

“A tempting offer, darling,” he crooned. “But a blowjob hardly lasts, does it? Soon you’ll be on your merry way, forgetting about poor old Rhysand.”

“What do you want then? Unlimited blowjobs? A ‘drop in whenever you feel like one’ kind of arrangement?”

Rhysand’s chuckle was so deep she could hear it rumble in his chest. “Mortal women have become so fun, recently. But what if I wanted more than a pretty girl on her knees for me, hmm?” His hand slid down to her chin, and he used his grip there to tilt her face up as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “What if I want to get on my knees for you?”

She almost could have laughed, thinking how strange it was that he phrased it like a counteroffer. Of course Feyre had to wait until death to find a man willing to go down on her. 

“That’s perfectly agreeable to me,” she said.

“Yes?” he hummed. “You’ll let me take what I want?”

“Yes,” she breathed, letting him tilt her face up, up, up, until she was staring into those breathtaking eyes again. “Take it.”

Rhysand smiled, leaning down until their lips met. She shut her eyes, reveling in the petal-soft touch of his mouth.

And when she opened them again, they were stung by the harsh fluorescent lighting of a hospital room. She could smell the antiseptic, hear the soft, steady beat of her heart monitor.

“Oh! Mrs. Archeron, you’re awake!” A friendly looking nurse smiled at her. “I’ll go get your husband and let the doctor know.”

The nurse’s scrubs swished with every movement as she strode out the door, and Feyre watched it swing shut before she could manage to rasp, “...husband?”

Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth was so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof. She glanced around for a glass of water, and was instead greeted to a stack of get well soon cards, plush animals, and sweets. Feyre reached over to study the cards. Some of them were from Mor and her sisters, but some were from…

“Can I get you something, darling?”

“Rhysand?” she croaked, looking to the man standing at the door, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I wanted to get on my knees, Feyre.” He winked. “You said yes.”

She swallowed, fighting moisture into her mouth as she read through the cards, all addressed to ‘Feyre darling, my beautiful wife’. She threw the lot of them on the bed, fighting the dread that churned in her stomach. “I said yes to eating me out!”

He smirked. “That can still be arranged.”

“Rhys—”

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to his ears. “My sweet wife, not so loud. Other patients are trying to sleep.”

“I’m not your wife!” She glared at him. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

Rhysand plucked one of the boxes of chocolate from the bedside table and clicked his tongue. “You almost died, and they bought you the store brand? Dreadful.” 

With a shriek of exasperation, Feyre batted the box of chocolates out of his hand. Rhysand’s eyes practically sparkled as he watched them fall to the floor. “Well, they were bad Feyre, but they weren’t that—”

“Shut it!” She pointed her finger at him. “You and I are not married.”

He caught her wrists, his grip surprisingly gentle as he examined her hand. “That ring on your finger says differently.” She frowned, snatching her hand away so she, too, could look at the star sapphire ring that had not been there before. To her horror, when she tried to pull it off, she found it wouldn’t move. As though the silver band had magically melded to her skin.

Rhysand’s teeth flashed. “That ring, Feyre, binds you to me. It represents the bargain that we made in the afterlife. You are my wife now.” 

He reached for her hand, holding her gaze as he drew it towards his lips and laid a kiss against each of her knuckles. When he smiled, she felt it like a death knell in her chest.

“Till death do us part.”

-

Taglist:

@arrowmusings @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @darling-archeron @achernarlight @themoonthestarsthesuriel @thebonecarver @swankii-art-teacher @reddidh

[theredharpy]

Can't have one without the other || König x Reader x Ghost ||

jealousy, envy, slowburn, enemies to lovers, R18

As Price is forced to make a tough call to bring in someone he had promised an old friend of his to protect, a mission that holds the weight of countless lives, needs the involvement of both KorTac and the mysterious red haired woman who had previously been in an elite trained military team that had supposedly disbanded and vanished.Ghost is against the idea but something draws him to her, whereas König wants to know more, what unravels nobody could've expected.

Part: 3

Turbulence PT.2 ||

An hour had passed by since Red had met her new comrades, the room in which had been appointed to her was spacious enough for her to feel comfortable, but still her mind raced, it was giving her a headache, she couldn't help but remember the haunting eyes of the shadowed figure that had been watching her from the opposite side of the briefing room.

Or the skull masked lieutenant, reminding her of the grim reaper, his stoic mannerisms when she responded back to Gaz.

What the hell did I sign myself up for.

She thought as she sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall 11:30pm.

She sighed to herself, needing to get out of the room, she needed to put her focus somewhere else for now and the gym was a perfect excuse for just that.

Somehow by mere chance or luck she'd actually found the gym pretty easily, opening the door her eyes scanned the large space, "empty, thank god." She muttered to herself, feeling her shoulders release amped up anxiety.

She placed her bag down beside the plethora of dumbbells and placed her headphones in, turning placing the volume on max she started to get into her reps, 30 minutes in and she was gritting her teeth from raising the weights, seeing how far she could push herself to go.

"Y'know what Gaz said to me the other da--" Soap was too preoccupied with his conversation with Ghost that when he had opened the door to the gym neither of them had noticed the new member working out at the end of the room until Soap noticed Ghost was no longer listening to the conversation and was keeping an eye on the woman.

It was only when Red lifted her head up from finishing her last set of lunges that she saw the two men making their way into the gym, briefly for a second she debated taking her earphones out but decided to take one out and acknowledge them both.

"Can't sleep?" Ghost questioned as he made his way over towards a workout bench nearby, though his watchful eyes observed her, trying to figure her out, still wearing his gear from the prior meeting the only difference was he had removed his heavy tatical gear.

A cold chill ran all the way up her spine at his tone, easily picking the lieutenant had little to no trust in her, why would he? She's an outsider joining a tightly close team, was she about to face interrogation by both Ghost and Soap.

The long blacksleeved shirt she was wearing was becoming uncomfortable from how warm she already was from working out, it was smothering her like clingfilm, she kept her gaze purposely off both men, making her way over to her Duffle bag.

"I can't sleep until I tire myself out really." She shrugged her shoulders, rummaging around in her bag looking for the spare shirt she had packed.

"Soo..." Soap spoke loudly as he sauntered over towards where Red was, a smile plastered to his face. "Where ya from then because you sound eerily similar to him." He tilted his head towards Ghost.

Red raised a brow as she stopped what she was doing and looked up towards the Sargent who was now standing before her, then over towards Ghost who was already preparing himself to workout with a pair of weights on the bench.

"Well I guess that's what happens when you're from Yorkshire."

Soap crossed his arms over his chest, looking pleased with himself. "Well, well, that's awfully ironic wouldn't you say LT." Raising his tone clear enough for Ghost to hear him, "did you also come from good ol' Manchester then."

"No, but I didn't live too far from there for a while." She grabbed the clean black shirt in her hand and stood up, facing Soap directly.

The Sargent looked almost impressed by her response as he looked over his shoulder towards Ghost. "Ya hear that, you two could've even seen eachother and never known it." He joked.

"I highly doubt that." Ghost deadpanned in a heavy breath between his reps, sounding annoyed by Soap's remark.

Red would've shrugged the situation off and joked about it if it didn't feel like every word that fell from her mouth was either a step further into her becoming welcomed into the team or becoming a target, this position wasn't handed to her for no reason, it was upon the request of both Price and Laswell themselves.

She knew Ghost was listening to the whole conversation, Soap wasn't necessarily the issue here, it was the towering man currently lifting two giant weights with ease, she knew Ghost is a force to be reckoned with under any and all circumstances, she'd read up about the team before arriving to the base upon Price's instructions and now she could understand why.

Soap decided to ease off from the questions for a moment as he set himself up with a couple of dumbbells himself, doing some simple arm curls.

The woman allowed a shallow breath to escape from her throat as she took the opportunity to change from her longsleeve shirt, turning her back towards the mirrored wall where Soap was standing.

It was only when his eyes had wandered over towards the red haired woman that the words fell from his mouth.

"Creepin' bloody jesus." He said with some shock to his tone, immediately pausing with the curls.

Red pulled her head up quickly, looking around the room to what Soap was reacting to only to notice he was staring at the reflection of her back in the mirror, Ghost had also stopped his workout to see what the sergeant was reacting to.

"What the hell did you fight, a bear." John glanced over towards the woman, looking at the giant scar that was carved into her back in a curve, leading from one side to the other.

"Oh." She rolled her eyes and huffed. "I wish it was that simple." She remarks with a lowered tone, feeling hesitant about talking about it.

"What did happen then." Ghost's voice cut through the air like a dagger, his eyes once again where set on her.

Shit.

I really didn't think this through.

Wrong time to be talking about this.

Not now.

Red finished quickly throwing on the clean shirt, looking over towards Ghost and Soap she knew neither of them would give this up with the look in their eyes, she chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, debating if it was wise to open up, but also if she didn't the lieutenant would become even more suspicious of her.

But before she could open her mouth Soap, interrupted. "Y'know you don't have to talk about it just yet, I get ya."

He gave her an understanding smile, he'd noticed the slight moment of panic that had taken over her features and decided to lay off.

"We've all got our fair share." He joked lightly trying to ease the situation, noticing the woman's unease with Ghosts direct question.

"Well with that, it was nice to erm, talk to you both." Red looked between them both as she grabbed her duffle bag in her hand. "But it's now what time?."

"Nearly going one in the morning."

Soap Answered.

"Well with that I'm going to be smart and take myself to bed." She said softly, looking over towards him but still feeling the burning eyes of Ghost drilling into her.

"You didn't finish my question." Ghost shifted himself from the bench, purposely standing in the direct path between her and the way out, looking down at her like the grim reaper preparing himself to collect another soul.

"And what if I don't answer it?" She responded, feeling the hair on her skin stand on end.

Oh fuck.

"What you're gonna remove me for not responding back." She mocked trying to shake off the looming shadow that was growing ever closer to her.

"What did you just say to me." Ghost's voice filled with agitation, the emotions held behind those piercing eyes of his where drilling into her own.

"Don't you realise that I'm your lieutenant, you don't get to refuse shit from me."

Red couldn't help but scoff at his words as she met his angered gaze head on. "I didn't realise a question about a simple scar would piss you off so much, but that's a you problem not mine." She shrugged her shoulders.

Soap's face was nothing but utter disbelief that he was overhearing this conversation, right now.

"L.T this is not a good idea." Soap tried his best to intervine.

"I don't know who allowed you to walk around with that attitude on new recruits but you need to work on it." She took a step forward towards Ghost but purposely moving towards one side.

Ghost was clearly tense, his chest raised more quickly, taking deeper breaths. "Who the fuck are you to make those comments ay." He spat taking a step towards her to purposely put her off balance.

"The person who's fucking working with you on this team for the sake of this mission, don't be a twat." She stepped towards him closing the distance, even though she was much smaller in size to Ghost, she also wasn't going to jeopardize her promise to Price and Laswell either.

Her eyes took in all the close features of his mask, his eyes, the way his light coloured lashes looked from the darkness of his mask.

"I don't want to have any issues with the people I'm working with, but you don't see me interrogating either of you."

She also looked over towards Soap before taking the opportunity to slip past Ghost and quickly out the door, she could feel her heart rattling in her chest, her hands where already starting to tremble from the adrenaline and she refused to look behind her as she heard thundering bootsteps quickly pacing behind her.

[the-slasher-files]

E-excuse me? Could I ask for Ghost almost killing the reader when they first met?

Because of a miscommunication Ghost thought they were an enemy soldier and if it wasn't for Price or Soap walking in he would have fucked us up

BLOOD ON BONES

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

It's very short, but I hope you enjoy it! Warning: violence, PTSD. 🤍🔪 (possibly part 2 coming idk)

MASTERLIST

"Bloody 'ell"

Wires lay frayed and cut between the velcro of his black vest as his fingers inspected the ruin. The enemy had come from within the shadows, launching forward, knife in hand and going for the throat; Ending with Ghost splattered in the blood that wasn't his. And now, a broken radio.

He had an idea of where Gaz and Soap were. Their last communication was in the homes to the south, all searching for the bastard that had slipped away one too many times. Once was enough for Ghost. The third time, the phantom of a man had the urge to gut and skin his target like a hunted deer. It was a frustrating mission with lousy intel, gory wounds, and even needing to bring in another group of independent mercenaries.

This wasn't a job well done or a mission where everyone went home safely.

Black boots turned sliently over the ash, as keen ears picked up footsteps crossing the hallway and towards his direction. Carefully, the large soldier rounded the broken stairs. Keeping to his name, he moved like a ghost without a sound.

Skeletal gloved hands reached for the knife on his vest, snapping the holster as he found you—Unknowing and focused on tracking an enemy that now was dead by Ghost's hands. Before your spine could even tingle with the sense of danger, a massive hand sealed over your nose and mouth seamlessly. The blade was seering as it plunged into your shoulder. Your hackles raised, body going ridged with your scream completely muffled in a powerful grip. The figure shrouded you in a mercilessly and cold energy. Something you could only equal to as the reaper ready to collect your soul.

"FRIENDLY! FUCKING FRIENDLY, SOLIDER!" A booming growl reverberated off the crumbling walls and broken tiles.

Large hands pulling and grappling with the bulk of mass you could merely see in blurry vision. Hands reaching for purchase upon the dingy bookcase, feeling the hot rivets of blood begin to soak your jacket and ooze between your fingers. Unbeknownst to the world crashing around the soldier that was known as Ghost.

"Screw your head on solider! They're apart of the group helping us!" The baritone bark of John Price rippled through Simon's core. Bile rose in the pit of his throat as brown eyes flashed across the room, vivid flashbacks flooded him.

Men that were his own laid around him, covered in blood and brainwashed. Bones crack under his boot, and Blackhawks drowning the airspace.

Ghost's breath was strong but short, rapidly making his chest rise and fall, watching Price attend to your wound. Scrambling back with a groan, teeth holding your lip, trying not to scream.

Shit happened out here. But mistakes were not light on Simon's shoulders.

"We'll get you out of here, kid. Come on"