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trashogram · 3 months

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He Chose You (P. 4)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E

You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.

It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist.

Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk.

“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.

You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you.

You don’t have to look, but you do.

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin.

“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister.

She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise.

It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.

You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.

“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”

You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”

The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.

You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough.

Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly.

The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”

She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back.

“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.”

Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem.

“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly.

The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt.

Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted.

The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go.

“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.”

Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you.

She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.”

Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”

———

A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings.

A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.

Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.

With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.

‘Wait.’

You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol.

Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you.

Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking.

It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that.

Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:

A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.

You blinked rapidly.

There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:

Lucifer Morningstar

Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind.

The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void.

No thoughts.

———

The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again.

Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card.

Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor.

———

Lucifer Morningstar

It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well.

As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:

Proof you weren’t dreaming.��

Please Call Me

1-666-666-6669

Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function.

You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time.

How much time had passed?

Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil.

And the Devil had paid you a visit.

———

The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there.

Contemplating, processing, fearing.

Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die.

How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?

Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?

God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said?

Why did bad things happen to good people?

Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?

———

You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone.

You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat.

“Hello?” You rasped.

“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”

———

It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open.

A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled.

“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!”

The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.

“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth.

You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”

Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”

‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.

“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —”

“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.”

You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket.

“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically.

It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably.

“Oh.”

———

Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence.

However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”

Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands.

Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.

The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel.

You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber.

The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain.

He was so… white.

His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam.

Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”

‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted.

And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen.

“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence.

The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan.

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”

“I just got fired.” You blurted out.

The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”

“Because of you.”

“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a voice raised some octaves. “What —”

You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”

“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!”

“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage.

Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you.

Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being.

“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”

He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner.

The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief.

Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”

“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”

“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.”

Your stern frown implored him to continue.

Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”

The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it.

“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.

“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”

“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”

Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head.

His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan:

“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”

Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.”

He mimed being zapped in the head.

“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”

Lucifer sighed deeply.

“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…”

“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly.

You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy.

Sympathy for the Devil.

‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’

“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago.

Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.

“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!”

Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”

He cleared his throat at your blank expression.

“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”

The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid.

A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

You snorted.

Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on.

“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”

Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms.

“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?”

Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him.

“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.”

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision

I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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imamuzansimp-oldblog-seoseoya · 2 months

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types of kisses the uppermoons would prefer from this list

cw: kissing, fluff, morning kisses, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, lip kisses, pda, pinning against wall, jealousy (if u squint), lap, slight suggestive (mostly in muzan and dōma’s part), slight ooc (especially for muzan but it’s my hc muzan in private that we should all be well acquainted with), simpery bc have you met me, manga spoilers for dōma

a/n: this has sat in my apple notes app for wayyyyyyyy too long now

the list (creds to a tumblr i forgot the name of i saved this a long time ago):

Kibitsuji Muzan

5, 1, 4, 7, 10, 13

5 (in secret kiss): this is muzan we’re talking about. no way is he showing you his affection in public. i know i have my whole ‘softie in private™️’ muzan thing (really have to think of a better name), but key word: private. the day he shows affection in public is the day i stop liking kpop (jk i’ll never stop).

1 (good morning kiss): since muzan is a softie in private™️, he will gladly shower you with good morning kisses as soon as he wakes up. if you are asleep it does not matter, he’s waking you up.

4 (kiss on the neck): he’s a demon, who i believe has a side of him that’s very flirty and spicy. if you’re a human and you give consent, he’s kissing, biting, licking your neck and feeding off the blood from there. if you’re a demon, he’s still going to kiss, bite, lick, and suck your neck. he is not picky

7 (against a wall kiss): muzan + secretly very into steamy stuff + very dominant = muzan who loves a place where he can cage you in and watch you get flustered

10 (jealous kiss): as an extraordinarily possessive person, muzan would get jealous A LOT. which leads to a lot of jealous kisses.

13 (lap kiss): especially when he’s jealous or horny. let’s be honest we all know he’d do this if you were an actual object of his affection.

Kokushibo

3, 5, 7, 8

3 (kiss on the nose): let’s be honest, besides lip kisses, this is the only place on his face that you can kiss. his forehead is almost nonexistent and his cheeks are just eyes, unless you’d like to kiss those.

5 (in secret kiss): i feel like since kokushibo is so loyal to muzan, he wouldn’t want to kiss you in public since he’d either be in front of muzan or in the human world. besides, he’s more introverted and a demon so i don’t think he’s big on kisses in public for your reputation especially

7 (against a wall kiss): i don’t even know why, i just feel like he’d like to flex his height on you if you’re shorter than him (which is likely, he’s 190 cm/6’3”). since he’s so tall, why not flex the height while making it intimate?

8 (top of head kisses): again, on his head there are only so many places to kiss since you miss two facial features. he’d like kissing your head, but since he’s likely so much taller it makes him feel secret butterflies when you manage to kiss his head

Dōma (istg i hate this man yall dōma simps better be glad im writing for him)

i’m tempted to include everything but i’ll just put: 4, 7, 10, 12, 13

4 (kiss on the neck): this guy is the most thirsty demon (second only to karaku obvi) and we all know it. he’d probably get grumpy if he couldn’t kiss ur neck at least 10 times a day (separately. the 20 something neck kisses he gave when you woke up only count as one).

7 (against a wall kiss): dōma is……… well it’s dōma, the same guy who says akaza might get stronger if he eats women, the same guy who wanted to make inosuke’s mother his wife, the same guy who forms a crush on the people he kills. using that logic he will gladly pin you up against the wall and kiss you until you’re essentially a tomato. he will not stop even then, he won’t stop unless a

pressing matter appears (aka nothing).

10 (jealous kiss): he gets jealous easily, so why not kiss you out of jealousy too?

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): using the same logic as 7, he loves showing you off, unlike the previous two demons. he will “accidentally” leave the door wide open when he pins you on the bed and kisses the breath out of your lungs (a common occurrence) and sucks a lot of the blood right out of your veins (another common occurrence. did you ask/want/let him? i don’t know, but i doubt it. sorry)

13 (lap kiss): do i need to explain more?

no.

will i?

yes.

this man… chances are he’s not keeping it in his pants for that one.

Akaza (ITS THE BASKETBALL! *said with love*)

2, 8, 9, 13

2 (forehead kiss): since he actually has one (looking at you koku), he’s kissing yours and you’re kissing his. that’s how it’s going to work and chances are he’s going to be a blushing mess because he is weak to even a woman’s glance *watches him sip respect women juice*

8 (top of head kisses): idek why i just feel like he’d enjoy them.

9 (shy kiss): he’s shy boi with women. we all know this. when you two are in private and he’s not busy punching dōma’s face off (i love it when he does), he is with you. with you while somehow being shy even though ur dating

13 (lap kiss): he’s a respectful demon, so he’s not going to drink your blood, but he is going to act like it with the way he’s kissing your neck roughly

Sekido

4, 6, 7, 10

4 (kiss on the neck): let’s be honest, his name means accumulated anger and he quite literally has anger written on his tongue, he’s being rough with his kissing and trying (and failing) to let off some steam. absolutely the roughest out of every uppermoon, if you thought muzan and dōma were biting a lot get ready to meet this guy. he will not stop until your neck is quite literally all red. props to you for not passing out, although you probably already did

6 (public kiss): he is angry in public, and he will kiss you to try and calm down (not like it works)

7 (against a wall kiss): probably pushes you a bit too hard since he doesn’t know his own strength.

10 (jealous kiss): i don’t think i need to explain, just look at 6

Karaku

4, 7, 12, 13

4 (kiss on the neck): ……… if it’s not obvious i’m sorry for you. the kanji on his tongue is literally pleasure

7 (against a wall kiss): again, i don’t need to explain

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): like with dōma, the kiss is only “accidentally” witnessed. he totally didn’t leave the door wide open as he pinned you up against the wall

13 (lap kiss): ………………………….. YES

Aizetsu

5, 8, 9, 12

5 (in secret kiss): shyer than akaza 🥹! (he’s so precious im sry) every single time he kisses you it’s a shy kiss.

8 (top of head kisses): chances are he’s taller, so he kisses your head when he feels lonely. most of the time you’ll also be cuddling in bed

9 (shy kiss): just read 5

12 (accidentally witnessed kiss): unlike dōma and karaku, it is a genuine accident. he didn’t mean to leave the door open when he wanted to cuddle with you and shower you with kisses, he just did

Urogi

1, 6, 7

1 (good morning kiss): loves these. more specifically, loves receiving these. he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, but when he does wind up falling asleep, it’s next to you. you’ll usually wake up before him and wake him up with the good morning kisses he adores so much

6 (public kiss): his name means sky joy and ur telling me he wouldn’t get so happy he starts making out with you in public? he also just likes lowkey showing you off

7 (against a wall kiss): signature move: gets so happy he pins you against a wall and makes out with you

Gyutaro

2, 3, 4, 11

2 (forehead kiss), 3 (kiss on the nose), 4 (kiss on the neck): please give this poor man some love. he grew up only living for his sister and everyone else turning up their nose at him. forehead, nose, cheek, neck, everything kisses are a must

11 (first kiss): your first kiss with him was magical, whether it was also your first kiss is up to you, but it was definitely his and he relished in every moment of it.

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a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 8 months

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Barnaby facts (confirmed by the devs)

Hello! Since I was bored and it's making me so happy to see Barnaby getting so much love lately, I've decided to collect all the info I have about him! I most likely missed something, so if you have info I haven't put here, or got wrong, let me know, ok? ^^

Anyhoo, here we go! **}

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- Barnaby, despite his name, is not a barn owl. He's actually a long eared owl.

- Barnaby isn't his real name; he used to have a different one, back in his alive days. One of the drawings featuring him has him surrounded by many names starting with "B".

- Said illustration has "Who am I?" hidden among the names and words such as "Where" and "Help", hinting at something linked to his identity is torturing him.

- It's been stated that Barnaby is the way he is because of a dangerous experiment that corrupted then killed him, changing him completely as a result.

- Barnaby is asexual homoromantic, and is genderfluid: while he goes primarly by "he/him", he accepts any pronoun.

- He considers his Barnaboos as his "little pretties", and often offers help or advice if they need it; of course, his help may not be as helpful as he believes...

- He hates cheesecake.

- He's not a fan of rootbeer neither; he will serve it in his parties, but he personally won't drink it.

- His favorite food is eye scream, and favorite Halloween treat are caramel apples.

- As for ice cream, his favorite flavor is Strawberry Shortcake.

- Speaking of food, yeah, he doesn't need to eat, nor sleep. But still likes doing it anyway.

- Barnaby is a confirmed sleepyhead. He naps a lot, but never in an ordinary position, or in his bed; he tends to sleep in various gravity bending position, especially upside down.

- Meaning, yes, when Billie comes to steal his gem, he was sleeping!

- And when he sleeps, he apparently snores and hoots.

- While hugging him would result in a kill from him, Ash confirmed Barnaby is a hugger! Hugging him would still involve him squeezing or stabbing you to death, tho'. And he'd feel both soft and slimy to the touch.

- Barnaby is around 10-11ft tall, and with his size-shifting abilities, he can be any height he wants; when he was alive tho', he's as tall as Aristotle, more or less.

- He doesn't need glasses anymore, but sometimes will wear them because they make him look smart. They also tend to follow the eyes' movements.

- Barnaby is very emotional: while it won't stop him from trying to kill you, he will cry if he sees you cry. Ironically, he would comfort you until you feel better. Then he'll kill you.

- It's been confirmed that Barnaby's biggest fear has "already come true".

- His tears are orange, just like his eyes.

- Barnaby is not one to open his heart easily, but the moment he does, there's many ways to reach it. He's quite romantic, tho' not in the usual way: if you gave him a dead rat, he'd consider it a very romantic gesture!

- It's been stated he doesn't have a partner now, but in life, "maybe".

- When it comes to children, it's been confirmed he'd be the best caregiver alongside Dutch, althought for him "it's complicated".

- He apparently had a child of his own, if the picture posted about him during "Father's Day" is any indication. What happened to the little one hasn't been revealed yet.

- Apparently he's the least judgemental character in BBU!

- If he had a TV, it'd be old timey, and he'd watch something really random. Like ducks.

- Barnaby loves small critters; Ash specifically mentions they always linked him with guinea pigs. And indeed, Barnaby had a science guinea pig co-worker once, that turned into an actual guinea pig because of a reckless experiment, and he took care of them.

- He's able to control reality; it's unclear if it's his gem's doing, or his magic power as a ghost.

- In any case, he's now the most powerful character in the game

- Back in his alive days, he was a magic researcher and scientist.

- He actually owned the gem before he turned into a ghost. He even experimented on it, and it's suggested that actually sealed his fate.

- A lot of songs from Oingo Boingo and Lemon Demon fit him: Ash specifically mentioned "Weird Science" as really "Barnabycore"

- Barnaby is autistic: he stims by hooting and flapping his wings when he's excited.

- When he's scared or nervous, he tends to cover himself with his wings.

- Katie said that, if he were a candy, he'd be a sour blueberry.

- Barnaby lives in his own dimension, with his own mansion and everything. And he can travel between realities. Although one comment from Katie suggests he's trapped in there, but it's too early to say for sure.

- According to the devs, he was inspired by Weird Al Yankovic, Lewis from Mystery Skulls and Discord from MLP.

- No, he wasn't inspired by Snatcher, since the development of BBU has lasted longer than A Hat in Time. The two of them canonically know each other tho': only problem is, Snatcher hates Barnaby's guts and finds him too clingy, while the owl adores him.

- He canonically knows Wally Darling from "Welcome Home" and Kira from "Far Fetched" too, since he can travel between realities.

- Barnaby has his guests come to his home by portals that pop just below them. He apparently has kidnapped people before, every once in a while.

- He'd get along well with Dutch.

- It's left vague whether he knows Fantoccio or not.

- He actually has never met Arthur nor Aristotle before the game.

- In any case, he'd find Aristotle really funny, and wouldn't take them seriously.

-- Barnaby is aware of the player, and can break the 4th wall. And that's why only he can use Twitter.

- Whenever he writes on Twitter, hE WRiTSE LIkE THIS!!!

- Barnaby is REALLY mischeavous, and finds no problem in cheating in games. But if YOU cheat, then he gets ticked off.

- This suggests he's also a sore loser.

- Judging by his expression in the cutscene, he doesn't like being interrupted.

- It's been confirmed he smells like meldew. :P

- He could fake glitching out, then attack the moment you come to check out what's going on with him.

- He HATES party crashers. Also scarecrows: not good for conversations. And he's not interested in their crops.

- He can play the organ: Katie even suggested that if you hear it in the background of his chapter, that's him playing it.

- He was a young prodigy, back when he was alive!

- Don't be fooled by his goofy antics: he's very smart, still loves making experiments and can speak a lot of languages.

- Ironically, he hates skulls: he finds them icky.

- He was 25-26 when he died; he's been dead for 100+ years.

- Time is very important for him: that's why there's so many clocks in his parlor. It's been suggested he sees partying as a way to keep track with time.

- Despite that, Barnaby himself in the contest video has briefly stated he tends to forget what year it is.

- There's tons of pictures in his manor: all of them depict him, suggesting he's good at painting.

- Katie has noted that Barnaby "remembers everything". When asked if there's something he'd rather forget, they stated that "what he wants and what he needs are very different things".

- His family is "infinite", apparently. Then again, one of his very early descriptions stated he's got no friends nor family to speak about...

- He's been described as "self interested"

- When asked which character had the most trauma, without giving hints about being traumatized, Katie confirmed Barnaby as the answer, even stating his story makes them the saddest, alongside Fanto's.

- His favorite color is pink!

- He can change himself into lots of animals, and can even clone himself!

- When asked if he can talk to his alive self, Katie said it's "technically possible".

- Back when he was alive, he was noted as a dork and a hardworker, so much so he'd even pull one-nighters before making speeches for his research. Katie jokingly suggested that's why he parties so much: it's to make up for lost time!

- He had a different way of speaking, back when he was alive. And his icks were probably different as well.

- When he gets overwhelmed, he has a shutdown, and goes completely silent.

- At early stages, Barnaby was supposed to be a bug.

- The moment his design as a ghost was chosen, he went through a lot of palette options, like a pale blue color like he came from "The Haunted Mansion", or all colorful like "Dia de los Muertos". Ultimately they settled for his currently shadowy look because, not only it's easier to animate, it was in line with his backstory.

- Barnaby can melt. It's still unclear what triggers such a reaction, but some pictures hint that it's tied to his psychological state.

- Barnaby has been noted that he can talk fancy, but he's not eloquent.

- His favorite dance is the charleston!

- Ash has stated that in the game he is going to be depicted doing something similiar to "singing himself to sleep".

- Apparently he still makes pellets from his mouth. Dead or not, he's still an owl.

- He often puts emphasis on words, sometimes even making his bowtie spin.

- In the latest Twitter post featuring him, when you decode the garbled message, you can read: "Barnaby lies Along in his thoughts, Resting On the floor Neglected". Not only this hints at his turmoil, it also hides the word "BARON". It's unclear if it's his name, a title he possessed, or someone or thing else entirely connected to him.

- He loves recieving scretches on his head.

- Barnaby can cook, but he'll more often than not leave that to the Barnaboos.

- He's not that interested in gardening, even tho' he owns a greenhouse.

- He'd enjoy playing "Luigi's Mansion"!

- In Super Smash Bros. he'd main Meta Knight, even relating to him.

- He'd happily accept smoochies, apparently!

- His favorite party game is "Pin the tail on the owl".

- If you are his friend, he'd consider it even more of a reason to stay in the manor and never leave!

- He has claimed that he's used to give himself self love and compliments, since no one else does it. That, and his tendency to ask others for hugs or if they need a hug to calm down, suggests he's affection starved.

- He tends to react to compliments from fans by smiling bashfully, or happily shouting that he's popular.

- Katie stated that his favorite movie would be something unexpected, like "Marnie & Me" or "Up".

- Barnaby can see everything from the eyes of the plushies that look like him. So, if you bought one... watch out...

- Among his early designs, he also looked like a completely different owl, tall and austere looking, who was the guardian of the forest. It was changed because the devs wanted a goofy boss that could stand out among the others.

- Having said that, it seems Barnaby was the last boss to be officially revealed, and initially the game only had Elaine, Dutch and Fantoccio as the main bosses.

- Barnaby LOVES puns. A good deal of the lines he says when you get defeated in his chase contain a pun.

- You try being slick by stating you want to die of old age? Too bad: Barnaby will make you age rapidly. Despite that, Katie confirmed he doesn't have time related powers...

- Katie and Ash confirmed Barnaby can fly. And such a sight is apparently really hilarious.

- Barnaby loves shiny trinkets: if he sees a sparkly thread, he'll fixate on it and will follow its movements. It's like with a cat following a laser.

- Barnaby has teeth; they're orange and sharp, and come out when he's ticked off, or especially devious.

- When he was alive, he only used he/him pronouns. He became comfortable with all pronouns after he died. He's always been interested in men.

- This goes without saying, but still: he operates on cartoon logic. He can use both his wings AND his feet as hands. Even both feet can act as hands, even when they appear off camera. How? Because it's Barnaby and he can do anything he sets his mind into!

#Billie Bust Up #BBU Barnaby #Barnaby #Fave Character #Comfort Character #Personal Rambles

526 notes · View notes

rainybubbles · 2 months

Text

10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

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

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x plus size reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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walli3darl1ng · 1 year

Text

This part, I felt like was a bit off :/ but hey! It’s good, it’s cute!

Also I saw an actor AU and that’s amazing, would you like me to write one? Let me know!

Part three!

For context you’re a Doll maker giving the task to freshen up Wally Darling before a special episode. But the cutie can’t get enough of you @:3

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

The big doll didn’t mean to scare Wally. They simply wanted to say hi but I guess they overdid it. “I apologize, I was just trying to introduce myself.”

Wally stares them down as he takes in their appearance. They’re a regular doll, a rather tall one, not as tall as he is, but then again he is about 12 apples tall. They look to be around 10 apples tall at most.

He’s happy that there’s a new friend, one he can speak to, one that’s alive—wait, alive!?

“You’re alive.”

“No, I’m Celine. I’m a porcelain doll. What’s your name, Bun?”

They seem enthusiastic and rather polite, Wally already considers them a friend. They look similar to his caring doll maker, odd, really.

Wally smiles. “I’m Wally. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You want me to show you where they are?”

The question came out of nowhere and Wally was caught off guard by it. “What?”

“Your thoughts aren’t exactly quiet. You didn’t want them to leave and wanted to follow them. I can show you.” The doll was careful when crawling off the counter and onto the chair, surprisingly Wally follows. He can’t deny it anymore now that he’s felt you he can’t seem to want to be without it. He needs that security more than anything and you’re the only one who can give it to him.

“I’m sorry if this offends you, friend, How exactly are you alive?” Wally asks, following the glass doll down the hallways. He thought he was the only one who could move around outside of the set.

“Not at all!” She hums and holds her chin in thought. “I suppose the same way you’re alive. Whoever made you put their heart and soul into making.”

“I don’t understand, heart and soul?” They now carefully walk downstairs, Wally being a good friend and holding Celine’s hand so they won’t fall and possibly crack.

“When someone makes something and they put all or most of their energy whether that be good energy or bad the object absorbs it. If too much energy gets absorbed the object becomes a living shell for it.”

Wally listens carefully to her words and nods along, like they mean the world. With that knowledge he sees the fragile doll as a source of information on this world and as well as how they came to be alive.

Now that he’s thinking about it, all his friends act similar to their maker, but Wally doesn’t see his. He can’t seem to remember when he was created, all his friends do—they call it a birthday.

“And, who made you?” Wally asks, looking down at the doll. They are now standing in front of a door.

Celine giggles and points at the door. “They made me. I’m the first doll they ever made when they were younger.” They sigh and smile up at Wally. “They put a lot of energy into making me…I’ve become a part of them they wished they were.”

“What do you mean?��

Wally was a bit disappointed that the doll dismisses his question and nudges him closer to the door before leaving with an encouraging and energetic farewell. Now alone and in front of the door he reaches up, standing on his toes and turns the door knob. He peeks inside and sees that it’s a bedroom Celine leads him to.

Filled with curiosity he sneaks in and walks towards the bed to see you fast asleep, hugging a stuffed animal.

Funny, he feels saddened at the sight of you hugging something fluffy and squishy like him but it’s not him. Were you pretending it was him? He hoped so, you only hold him like that.

He frowns and slowly climbs onto your bed and crawls closer to you. You look peaceful sleeping. “Hello.” He whispers. He’s talking to you! He’s actually talking to you, sure you’re asleep and don’t know what’s going on but he doesn’t understand that, he’s looking at you and speaking.

His sleepy eyes cast down to the stuffed animal in your embrace and let his action move him to take the plush away and throw it off somewhere. Wally then moves under the covers and wiggles into your hold, waiting for you to squeeze him.

But nothing happened, were you upset with him for throwing the plush? Why have that when you have him? Maybe it’s because he can’t hug you back, he never really knows what to do so he usually goes limp, is that it?

“Are you upset with me? Please don’t be upset.” He places his hand on your cheek and feels how warm it is. He remembers how you moved his arms around you neck and mimics that; wrapping his arms around you neck

In your deep slumber you stir and pull him closer to you. This made him panic and go limp again. After a few minutes he sees that you haven’t moved so he faces you again and, just like you did before you left, ran his fingers across your cheek and through your hair.

“Goodnight.”

#welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home wally #wally darling x self insert #wally darling x reader #wally darling #wally x y/n #wally x you

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somegrumpynerd · 1 month

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What kinda style do you think Nightmare would paint in? Like do you think he'd have something more classical? Maybe realism? old timey stuff? Or impressionism maybe, I feel like he'd enjoy painting outside

I wanna hear your thoughts on this!

Hm yes yes, I definitely have thoughts about this (<- failed their art exam and very quickly googled painting styles lol)

If I'm understanding what I've read right, I think he'd be into realism or impressionism, I can see him spending ages on lots of little details in a picture. I could definitely see him painting outside though! It's easier to just set up in a secluded area than get anyone to look normal while the king of negativity stares at them for a few hours lol

It kind of goes hand in hand with the idea that he documents aus as a hobby as well I guess, like maybe he tries to paint little scenes of certain aus that stick out to him or just to keep as reference in case anything happens to them. Maybe Horror has a little painting in his room of his snowdin to help when he gets homesick?

He definitely doesn't have several paintings hidden in a closet somewhere of his own au before the incident, with a big tall apple-filled tree and a little yellow flag around the trunk and two yellow and purple dots nearby that are probably just a mistake didn't mean to add those don't read into that

Also not that I read your tags on that post but imagine him trying to do a family portrait. First problem is none of them will sit still. Okay that's a lie Cross probably would stand completely still for hours he has royal guard training, but the others are definitely not. I give it 10 minutes at most before Killer's annoying Dust into trying to kill him, Horror probably forgets what they're doing after an hour and starts walking off and has to be called back. At the end of it all he miraculously has a painting but immediately gets hit with "hey wait this is just us!! why aren't you in it? D:" as if he was supposed to go stand behind them and paint himself somehow??

About a week after he hangs it up, he finds somebody has drawn a little cartoonish version of him and taped it onto the painting like he was in it too and he pretends it doesn't make him as happy as it does.

#UTDR #UTMV #Ask #Pigeonstab #Sorry if this makes no sense I'm a fake art fan I don't know all the painters #But I think he does landscapes and maybe dramatic scenes #Like maybe he does illustrations of important events from aus for documentation purposes #Also after a truce do you think he would ask Ink about how Cross's au looked so he could try and paint him a picture of it?#Whether he gets it right or not Cross WILL cry #I also hc that he steals nice art and books from aus they're terrorising #Like a dragon but his hoard is all art and literature #It also makes it harder to tell which things he actually painted/ wrote in the castle

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icycoldninja · 6 months

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1st Class SOLDIER boys spending Thanksgiving with their S/O

A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!! This year, the SOLDIER boys decide to spend Thanksgiving with their beloved Y/N; I wonder how it'll go...?

♡Sephiroth♡

-Shows up to your house bearing a large bottle of pumpkin pie flavored wine (Yes, that exists) and a jar of Cool Whip, thinking that's a suitable dessert.

-Due to having grown up in a lab, the man has no idea what you're supposed to eat for Thanksgiving. He thinks it's just a day where your entire family gets together and eats for no reason.

-This man cannot cook a turkey for the life of him. Don't even let him try, he'll find a way to burn the turkey and make the baking dish explode in the oven, regardless of what it was made of.

-Drinks the cranberry sauce, not understanding it's for the turkey, and tries to mash potatoes with the hilt of Masamune.

-Fortunately, this man is not entirely hopless; he's tall enough to hang all the decorations without a stepladder, so there's that.

-When the Thanksgiving dinner is finally ready, he'll find that he actually enjoys eating turkey, especially the crispy turkey skin, and soon becomes addicted to sweet potato casserole. Potatoes with marshmallows!? He had no idea such a combination could exist and taste this good!

-He had a great time at your place; it was a welcome change of pace, being around all your family members at once, experiencing the familial love he never had.

-He ended up eating way too much, just so he could continue hanging around you guys, and had to literally waddle out the door because of how stuffed he was. 🌝

♡Genesis♡

-Unlike Sephi dearest, Genesis actually knows what Thanksgiving is and how to celebrate properly. His cooking skills are pretty basic, so he ends up gifting you an apple pie cobbled together from store-bought dough and canned filling.

-Very talkative; gets along quite well with all your family members and gets on all their good sides by talking about memories with you.

-His favorite foods are mashed potatoes and gravy. He just cannot get over how creamy they are and how delightfully savory the gravy tastes.

-As mentioned earlier, his cooking skills are basic, so he can help out in the kitchen, but only to a certain extent. He can help mash potatoes, mix sauces, keep an eye on the turkey, etc., basically, he does the stuff an eager 10-year-old does.

-Unfortunately, with Genesis, not everything has a happy ending. Just when you think the night is progressing properly with everyone socializing jovially and having fun, Genesis decides to cause some drama over something as small and insignificant as a housefly that had the misfortune of buzzing over his head.

-The minute he caught sight of that fly, his mind snapped into Total Bitch Mode. He rises from the table with fury, knocking his drink over and sending silverware flying everywhere, shocking you and your entire family.

-He will scream like a banshee, then send a massive fireball hurtling past all your heads and crashing into the wall where that poor little fly once rested. Everyone is in shock as they try to comprehend what the actual fuck just happened.

-Despite this inconvenience, and the fact that there's now a smoldering hole in your wall, everything was quite fine. Genesis had a good time and so did everyone else.

♡Angeal♡

-Angeal is a man of dreams an honor. He knows how to cook. In fact, he knows so much, he takes over as head chef and magically turns into a dad overnight.

-According to him, it is now his solemn duty to cook the turkey, heat up the stuffing, and prep the dessert all at once, by himself. He adamantly rejects all assistance, claiming that a man with true honor can do all the cooking alone.

-Surprisingly, he pulls it off. The turkey was only a little bit burnt and the pie was only slightly too sweet.

-Angeal gets along well enough with most of your family and friends, and even ends up swapping recipes with several of them, though he very much preferred talking to you.

-His favorite foods are the deserts, believe it or not. He adores pie, especially pumpkin pie, and eats so much of it, he gets a massive sugar rush and a bloated belly. Poor guy.

-After everyone was done eating, his honor compelled him to tackle the mountain of dishes that everyone left behind, something you told him not to worry about. However, Angeal refused to listen to you, stating that it was his dream to do the dishes.

-Giving up due to his stubbornness, you left him to do his thing, only to come back an hour later to find an overflowing sink, wet dishes piled up literally everywhere, and a passed out angel on your kitchen floor. Turns out he'd eaten too much, and his food coma combined with over exertion from the daytime cooking caused him to fall asleep on the spot.

-All in all, everyone had a great time, and Angeal ended up sleeping in very late the next day.

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Fireworks

Dad's Best Friend!Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

3k words Part 2 here!

Smut for days, fluff for weeks. Age gap, dad's best friend, oral, dirty talk, praise, creampie, reader is referred to as darlin' and baby girl and pretty.

Yeah yeah, today's the 4th of July, cheesy title, whatever. THIS IS THE MOST FUN I'VE HAD IN A WHILE. In fact I loved living in this little tableau I've created so much I'm planning a sequel?? Fuck dude, I am down so stupid bad for this dumb idiot man.

Tagging a few people who I think might enjoy this as much as I did. @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon

If there was one thing your parents did right every time, it was their big summer bash.

Every year, when the temperature really started to ramp up, they invited the whole neighborhood over for barbecue, drinks, ice cream, and yard games. Their backyard pool was filled with kids bobbing like apples. There was often a waterslide, a water balloon toss, and sometimes fireworks once it got dark.

You had missed it the last few years, busy with summer semester at school. This year, however, you found yourself longing for a familiar setting and comfortable traditions. Even the incessant questions from neighbors you barely remembered would be worth the opportunity to be somewhere stable. Your parents, of course, were delighted, and swiftly roped you in to helping plan the menu, buy food and supplies, and set up the morning of the big day.

Wearing a new bikini underneath a band tee, you helped your mom arrange watermelon slices on a large platter, nestled soda and beer into coolers full of ice, and walked up and down the deck steps innumerable times carrying everything outside.

Although the party didn’t officially start until noon, people always began trickling in early, especially people close with your folks. The Swensons next door with their four boys arrived at 10:30. Two women from your mom’s book club arrived around 11. And when you made yet another trip down the deck stairs, you saw your dad on a ladder hanging decorations with the help of a tall, sandy-haired man you immediately recognized.

“Hey Dad, Mom wants to know if you want the stuff for the grill outside now or if you want to wait.” The man looked over his shoulder with a curious expression on his handsome face. “Hi, Mr. Sinclair.”

He broke into a grin. “Y/N, is that you? I’ll be damned.”

“It’s me.” You smiled sheepishly. His Southern accent had been the source of much conversation between you and your high school friends. You’d even dated some asshole from Mississippi for a while just to hear that honey-sweet drawl.

Mr. Sinclair handed your dad the other end of the banner he was hanging and turned to you. Were you imagining his ice-blue eyes flicking down to your bare legs and back up to your face? “You look good, darlin’. How’s college?”

Oh, you had forgotten that. How had you forgotten the way he called you darlin’? “Can’t complain,” you said. “I’ll graduate in another year.”

“Y’got big plans after that?” God, those eyes. Had they always been so piercing? You felt seen in a way that was intense, but not unpleasant.

“Not really. I’m waiting to see what opportunities open up, I guess.”

“Well, you’re a smart one, you’ll figure it out.”

Your mom yelled your name from the back door. You excused yourself and walked across the patio. The weight of a stare on your ass was tangible.

Just before you reached the deck stairs, you turned and looked back. He did not even try to hide the fact that yes, he had indeed been checking you out seconds before. His gaze swept up to your face at the most leisurely pace possible and he flashed you a subtle smirk. You felt the heat of a blush and tried not to race up the stairs.

The backyard filled up quickly as people began to arrive. Music wafted from the speakers mounted beneath the deck. The shriek of neighborhood kids and the splashing of pool water rounded out the suburbia soundtrack.

You answered the same questions over and over from friendly neighbors, helped your mom stave off several low-stakes emergencies, finally managed to extricate yourself from all party business long enough to shed your t-shirt and slip into the pool.

The shallow end was for splash fights. The deep end was for the older crowd. The water was cool but not cold, washing the sweat from your skin as you let yourself sink all the way down to the bottom. The muffling of sound and the sensation of even pressure on your skin helped you relax, clear your mind, until all that was left was the thought of a mechanic’s rough hands.

You had bet on a lot of things, coming home for this event. Mr. Sinclair’s killer jawline was not one of them.

In one burst, you launched yourself back up to the surface. Wiping the water from your eyes and nose, you kicked to the wall, hauled yourself up and out of the pool. As you toweled off your face and arms, you scanned the crowd. Sure enough, you found him, barely a participant in the conversation at hand, gaze locked on you as he drained the dregs from his beer bottle.

He was going to need another, wasn’t he? You were sort of the host of this party too, right?

You wrapped the towel around your hips and snagged two beers from a cooler. You pretended you couldn’t quite hear Mrs. Swenson flagging you down and made a beeline for the tall man breaking away from the conversation.

“Hey, Mr. Sinclair,” you said, darting in front of him. The way he lit up upon seeing you made your stomach flip. “I grabbed you a beer.”

“Well ain’t you the sweetest thing.” He accepted the bottle from you and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes drank in your exposed skin. “Call me Bo, darlin’.” He took a swig. You tried and failed at not staring at his lips. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back. Summer on campus is boring.”

“Can’t help but notice you didn’t bring anyone home with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…not a lot of luck in that department.”

He grinned at you. “What, a pretty thing like you? Now that’s a cryin’ shame.”

“Oh, believe me, there has been crying.”

His smile cooled, just a little. “Any o’ them kids hurt your feelings, darlin’, you give me a call. I’ll teach ‘em a lesson for you.”

Something told you he wasn’t joking. “Well, if you ever come across Bradley from Gulfport, you have my permission to kick his ass.”

He laughed. “Duly noted. What did Bradley from Gulfport have goin’ for him?”

You pinched your tongue between your teeth. “…a Southern accent.”

The smile this triggered sent a heatwave rolling beneath your skin. “That’s all it takes, huh?” You bit your lip and could not look at him. “You gotta watch out for those Southern boys, there’s only two kinds. They’re either gentlemen or scoundrels, every one of ‘em.”

You boosted your courage with a mouthful of beer. “Which one are you, Bo?”

He studied you for a long time before answering. “The kind who doesn’t want your daddy noticin’ the way I’m lookin’ at his daughter.”

You were wet, and it was not from the pool.

Clearing your throat, you said, “I think I’m…going to go change. Probably not getting back in the water.”

He nodded once. “Fair enough.”

You took two steps before adding, “I’ll be upstairs, if you need anything.” Again, shocked at your own brazenness, it took everything in you not to run up the steps.

The house was cold and quiet. You made your way down the hall, hung the towel over the shower curtain rod, nudged your bedroom door almost completely closed. Slowly, you undid your bikini, practically tingling with anticipation. Would he actually follow you up here? What if he did? You took your sweet time picking out a pair of underwear and a new t-shirt. You held off on the shorts and the bra. How long should you wait before you went back out there?

Just as you were about to give up and pull on the rest of your clothes, there came a soft rap on the door. You took hold of the handle and opened it just a little further, peeking into the hallway.

There stood Bo Sinclair, bold as brass, looking somehow both smug and earnest. “I missed you,” he said.

You reached out, grabbed his hand, tugged him into your bedroom and shut the door. With fluid grace, he spun you around, pushed you against the door, set his hands lightly on your waist. You were breathing hard already. “D’you want this, darlin’?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He tilted your chin up with his thumb, kissed you with those lips. He tasted like beer and cigarettes and some indescribable sweetness. Your hands found his chest, still broad and muscular, and he felt hot beneath the fabric of his shirt. He broke the kiss, met your eyes, then kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue playing at the edge of your teeth. A soft moan rose to your lips.

He pulled away again, looked at you seriously. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. I want more.” Your hand slid down his front, palmed at him through his jeans.

He cocked his head, a smile creeping across his face. “You’re a little minx, ain’t you.” He thrust his hips against you, pushed his knee in between your thighs. “Lemme show you a good time, baby girl.” He kissed down your neck, into the hollow of your throat, his fingertips brushing the skin just underneath the hem of your shirt. You arched your back, pressing against him, still caught up in a measure of disbelief that this was actually happening.

Bo took your hands and pulled you toward your bed. It was a full, barely bigger than a twin, hopefully big enough for two – you’d never tried it before. He sat on the edge, guided you onto his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, showered you with kisses while he ran his hands over your legs, your ass.

You took hold of his shirt, worked it up his torso and off of him. His shoulders were dusted with freckles, soft blonde hair on his chest. His eyes gleamed. “Fair is fair, darlin’.”

You stripped off your own shirt, tossed it to the floor. Bo muttered an expletive under his breath. He traced his thumb over your nipple and it hardened instantly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “You’re too pretty, baby,” he murmured. “I wanna wreck you.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled yourself against his body, kissed his collarbones, his shoulders. You could feel him getting hard underneath you and you rolled your hips experimentally once, twice. He made a delightful sound in his throat, his grip tightening on your love handles.

“Let me worship you, darlin’,” he said against your temple.

“Please,” you breathed.

He twisted, laid you down on the bed, kissed you sweetly and then wandered his mouth down your body, little by little, until his fingers were tucked in the waistband of your underwear and his breath was warm on your lower stomach. His baby blue eyes, alight with mischief, locked on yours.

“Now, you gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble.”

You nodded quickly, the blanket already balled up in your fists.

Bo eased your panties down your thighs slowly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, and when his tongue first slipped through your lips you let out an involuntary ohh.

“Ah-ah, what did I say?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Be good for me or I might have to give you a spankin’, and it won’t be like the kind your daddy used to give you.”

You writhed. You disheveled the sheets. You bit your lip hard as he worked you over, sucking your clit, teasing your entrance. These were not the bewildered ministrations of a reluctant frat boy. This man was indeed worshipping you and doing it well, and the pleasure building steadily deep inside you was enough to make you want to scream.

Finally, when you truly could not take it anymore, you choked out his name, grabbed at his hair. He looked up, licked you off his lips, kissed the inside of your thigh. “What d’you need, baby girl?”

“I-I….”

“God, you look good.” He crept up the length of your body, cradled your head to bring your lips up to his. “Such a mess for me.”

You ran your hands through his chest hair. “Bo,” you whimpered.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I need you.”

“You need me where?”

“I need you…to fuck me…please?”

He exhaled sharply. “You are hellbent on gettin’ me in trouble, ain’t you.” He trailed a finger down your breastbone. “Teasin’ me with that beautiful body…askin’ me so nicely.”

“Please, Bo.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, nuzzled your ear. “Has anyone ever made you cum in this bed?” he whispered.

“No,” you whispered back.

“Mmm.” He cupped your breast, squeezed firmly. “I bet you’d look mighty fine on top of me.” He slipped away from you, pulled off his jeans and boxers. You made room for him on the bed, straddled his hips, eyeing his length. He folded his arms above his head and stretched languidly. “Take it slow, darlin’. I like the view.”

You rubbed yourself against him, your already-sensitive clit dangerously tender. The two of you moaned in concert, the friction between you intoxicating. He felt good between your folds, beneath your hands, his stomach firm under a cushion of fat. You canted your hips in a steady rhythm until he was slick with your arousal. With his tip at your entrance, you pressed down carefully, not quite enough to push him into you, and smiled at him, held him there.

“Wicked,” he scolded. “You bet your ass I’ll remember this for next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh, there will most assuredly be a next time.”

This lit up your insides more than you expected and you lowered yourself onto him all the way in one smooth motion. You gasped. He groaned. His hands left their place on the pillow to take hold of your hips. He rocked you back and forth at an easy pace and you felt him flex inside you.

“Oh, Bo.”

“Quit.” He slapped the side of your ass. “My stamina ain’t what it used to be and if you throw that in the mix we are in for a short ride.”

You giggled, leaned back for a better angle, and sighed contentedly. When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at you with open admiration. Bending over his chest, you kissed him deeply, your skin alight with his touch. You rode him methodically for what could have been hours, hands on your breasts, biting back the little sounds he drew out of you.

At last he took your jaw in his hand, commanded your attention. “Now, darlin’. You’re gonna cum for me hard and you’re gonna look me in the eyes while you do it. Y’understand?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Yes sir.”

He gave you a look. “I’m gonna remember that for next time too.”

He took a firm grasp on your thighs, adjusted his hips, and began to thrust into you with unexpected force. Your mouth fell open in an O and your eyes rolled back in your head. “Look at me, darlin’, look at me.” You refocused, teeth pinning your lip, his expression positively sinful. You felt yourself begin to come apart and clawed at his chest. “That’s it, baby, so pretty.”

You couldn’t keep back the whine bubbling up in your lungs any longer, keening helplessly, whole body a mass of snapping nerves. His long, soft lashes fluttered as he finished inside you with a low grunt, clenching your flesh hard enough to leave marks.

Panting, you sank onto his shoulder and he wove his arms around you. “You did so well for me,” he mumbled, kissing your brow. “Such a sweet thing.”

You curled into his side while he stroked your back, traced the lines your nails left in his skin. “You know…I’ve never….”

He grew immediately serious. “You’ve never what?”

“I’ve never had sex in this bed at all.”

Bo huffed out a sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna give an old fuck like me a heart attack.”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

“I can’t be goin’ around deflowerin’ young women, they’d kill me in the streets.” He gave you a tender kiss. “Probably kill me for this anyway.”

“Too bad, I’ll miss you.”

He gave your ass an affectionate smack. “Speakin’ of missin’, we’d both better get back out there before they send a search party.”

“When can I see you again?”

“In about five minutes when you put your clothes back on and get out there and pretend like you weren’t just fucked stupid by your daddy’s best friend.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Oh, what’d y’mean?”

“When can I see you again like this?” You ran your thumb along his jaw.

“Well, how long are you in town for?”

“The rest of the summer.”

He let out a low whistle. “Is that so? Y’know, I’ve been meanin’ to hire some help at the shop. How ‘bout I pay you and let you fuck me?”

“Would that be weird?”

“You tell me, baby girl.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Well then I don’t neither.” He kissed you one last time. “Consider yourself hired. Great interview. Put your clothes on.”

You socked his ribs and wiggled away. He watched you dress and you slipped out of the room, sneaking back to the party well before he did. No one seemed to have noticed either of your absence, and you managed to play it cool for the rest of the afternoon.

When the sun fell at last and the streetlights turned on, everyone congregated on the front lawn for a fireworks show. Your dad always went for the ones that were technically illegal and to this day no one gave him grief about it.

With everyone’s eyes on the sky, you sidled up beside Bo, standing behind the crowd near the house. You didn’t dare take his hand, but you leaned against his arm, and a smile appeared on his lips, and that was enough.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #dilf bo sinclair #slasher x reader #my writing #bo sinclair

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