#*shrieks so only bats can hear*

[chlorinecake]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ .

▹ PAIRING: long distance boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.8k — 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹

▹ SUMMARY: What better way to celebrate the return of contact between you and your long distance boyfriend than with some good ole sexy time ?

▹ WARNINGS: SOFT DOM SUNGHOON who can’t help but tease you for struggling to take his cock after going without it for so long, kissing, somewhat inexperienced reader x clingy hoon, throat fucking, choking (m. receiving), tit + nipple play, cheek pinching, spitting, petnames (angel, puppy, princess, good girl), switch dynamics, rough unprotected sex, that’s about it !!

Sunghoon had just step foot inside your shared apartment upon finally getting to see you after returning from his lengthy business trip.

Meeting him at the front door, your boyfriend instantly dropped his belongings at the sight of you, locking the door promptly before pulling you into the biggest hug his wingspan could muster.

That's when you felt him take your chin in his grasp, turning your cheek to face him before licking a long stripe along your skin with his tongue. 

"Oh my fucking God," you shriek at the sudden sensation, eliciting a fit of giggles from your lovestruck boyfriend, "so much for saying hello first, you freak."

"Sorry, baby," he chuckles, kissing you on the cheek as he mumbles, "couldn't help myself when you look so delicious..."

"What're you, a dog?"

"I can be," he smirks this time, playfully raising his eyebrows at you.

"Damn... you're getting real comfortable with the idea of being anything but a grown man, huh Hoon?" You question through a squeaky voice given how tightly he held you against him.

"I'm literally one second away from biting your cheeks right now..."

You scoff at the desperate nature of his words, "You're ridiculous..."

"Yup, and it's your fault I have such emotional issues," he shrugs, eyes taking in the view of your face under the dim apartment lighting, and boy did you look amazing-

"Tell me about it," you roll your eyes, which only makes his smile widen, displaying the faint impression of his dimples.

"And being around youuuu is my therapy..."

"Wonderful-"

"And I would really appreciate it if you stood on your tippy toes to hug me closer and scratch my back a little bit when you do it, too," your boyfriend blinks now, batting his feathery eyelashes at you as you sigh in compliance, not being able to withstand his needy antics.

"C'mere, puppy," you say, making him blush through a bitten lip as he loosened his hold around you so you could return the hug this time.

Cute and sexy, you thought to yourself... your favorite combination on your favorite person...

As of today, it had been ten whole days since you last saw your boyfriend, and the distance was really starting to take a toll on his physical willpower.

The reason behind your brief separation was work obligations on Sunghoon’s behalf, but that still didn’t stop him from having to see your face or hear your voice every single night.

You remember just the other night over FaceTime that he brought up the idea of e-sex, being so pent up with sexual tension that his brain could hardly function...

"Hmmm," he hummed against you, making your heart swell until you realized his cold nose was nuzzled against the top of your head.

"You're sniffing me, aren't you?"

"Mhm," he said, kissing the spot there, "you look sweet... taste sweet... smell sweet..."

"Thank you?" You said while giggling, only to shriek slightly when you felt one of his hands grope your tit, his free hand guiding your hips against his pelvis.

"God, you even sound sweet," he practically groaned, smirking now at the way you tried squirming away from his touch, but he didn't plan on letting you go just yet.

“Looks like someone’s needier than usual,” you say through mumbled words, given the way his soft lips are attacking yours, slowly kissing you into submission.

“I just can’t help myself when I get like this,” he hums, tilting his head as he keeps his lips moving against yours. "I missed you so much, angel.”

“Missed you more,” you return within the contact, letting your hand find his face now as his touch travels from your hips to your thighs, his strength guiding your legs around his waist.

“Not possible,” he smirks, guiding you to your shared bedroom, where he plopped you on the mattress, only to cage you beneath his frame as the passionate kiss continued.

And the room is a mess in this moment, considering how you were too lazy to do any cleaning without Sunghoon’s help, but he doesn’t mind.

The cluttered nature somehow helps him feel more cozy, anyway.

You broke away from his lips, looking him straight in the eyes as you whispered:

“I think you’re wrong about that, Hoonie.”

“Oh, am I now?” He challenged back, pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger, to which you winced, smacking his hand away.

“Prove it to me,” he went on, holding eye contact as a familiarly menacing smirk overtook his face.

“Always so competitive,” you tsk, “but I’ll play along.”

That’s when you grab the neckline of his shirt, pulling him onto the bed while telling him to sit tight as you got situated between his thighs, doing away with the leather belt he wore.

And he doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what you’re about to do next—getting comfortable on your knees before your hands went to find your hair to tie it off into a ponytail.

"No, no, no, keep it down; it looks nice,” your boyfriend protests, making your hands slowly retreat from your head, “and you look way fucking hotter with those glasses on in person, too.”

“You say that like it almost surprises you?” You tease, but only as a way to stop yourself from gawking at his dick that was now out and in the open, free from the confines of his pants with the prettiest little vein trailing the underside.

His tip glistened with a pearly sheen, the sight alone making your core warm up slightly.

“It doesn’t,” Sunghoon answers dryly, especially now that you were taking his length into your grasp, “but that’s still not going to stop me from praising my pretty girl.”

“Aww,” you coo while stroking him slightly, the cum leaking from his tip helping to keep everything lubricated. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a smirk, hips tensing up and relaxing given the stimulation your hand was providing, “Why don’t you give me a little taste then?”

You look at him through your glasses with the sluttiest look you can muster, still fisting his shaft in your palm but with slower strokes now as you lower your head, letting your breath just ghost over his burning tip at first.

“C’mon baby, don’t tease,” he says, eyes falling lazy as lust renders his mind an utter mess of fuzz and desperation.

You let your tongue circle his head first, feeling his length twitch in your grasp before you fully sealed your lips around him, your own core throbbing now with all the sounds he was making.

“Take all of it, princess,” he demands, pushing your head down slightly for motivation. “Wanna feel myself in the back of your throat so bad...”

And you hum in response, sending gentle vibrations through his cock that made his thighs tense up.

Sunghoon groans softly, just as you started to bob half of his length with your mouth and stroke the remaining half with your hand.

He could tell that you really wanted to deep throat him, but you still hadn’t warmed up to his size yet.

“You want to prove how much you miss me, right?” He whispers through a shaky breath, drawing your glossy eyes back up to meet his face, cheeks dusted a light pink from his arousal.

You nod your head around him this time, knowing that he would rather you stay right there than move to try speaking properly.

He was just so enthralled by the warmth of you around him, a bit of your own saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth given the way your gag reflex was in hyperdrive right now.

“Good girl,” he smirks, but with furrowed brows, his voice trailing off as his hands found the side of your head, cupping your stuffed cheeks as he whispers, “This is only going to hurt a little bit then.”

That’s when you feel your throat opening now as Sunghoon forces himself in, guiding your head up and down along his shaft as he makes your mouth his personal fuck toy.

And you’re whimpering at the pain, eyes tearing up behind your foggy glasses, but it’s not like you mind. You found his desperation for you to be pretty hot, actually.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, hissing at the way your hands are gripping at his thighs now. “I knew you could take me like a good little slut.”

There’s a little tear trailed down your cheek that he swipes with his thumb, only to throw his head as he keeps using your head, surely bruising your throat somewhere considering all the action he’s putting it through.

“Just hold out a little longer for me, baby; I’m almost there,” he grunts, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as his thrusts grow faster, sloppier, and deeper.

Tapping at his thighs slightly, he knows that’s your usual cue that he’s going a little too far or that you need him to stop for something, and so he does, pulling his dick out of your mouth with a loud and wet smack.

“Was I too rough for you, pretty?” He cues, leaning down to caress your face.

“Not at all,” you say through a raspy, seductive voice, given how sore your throat was feeling.

“So why’d you stop my fun?” He asks, pinching your cheek once again as a way to tease you.

“Because,” you begin, finding his cock with your hand and gripping tightly, just enough to make him wince, “I’m not in the mood to sit here and hump the carpet like a bitch in heat while you destroy my throat.”

He lets out a dry chuckle at your words, trying his best to seem unfazed by the way you’re jerking him off again, up until you spit on the tip, standing up from the ground on wobbly legs.

And your boyfriend lets his back find the bed almost instantly, taking off his jacket and tossing it in the corner as you crawl on top of him, still stroking him in your hand.

“Sorry about that, angel,” he whispers sarcastically, eyes half-lidded and desperate like a hentai wet dream as you straddle him now, slowing down the pumps of your hand. "I guess I just got a little carried away there.”

“Mhm,” you cut him off, releasing his veiny and throbbing cock from your grasp and letting the same hand find his neck, not to choke him but for stability as you straddle his hips.

Your pants are still on at this point, but he does a good job of helping you take them off.

"I bet I can guess the color of your panties now," he smirks as your pants dropped to the floor, revealing your bareness, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes you're not wearing any underwear.

Lining him up with your entrance, you let your weight fall with gravity help you take him.

But his girth is so wide that you have to bite your lip in order to hide your sounds, and he catches onto this, too, finding your hips with his free hands and pushing you most of the way down.

“Mmm,” you mewl, arching your back at the way his tip immediately finds your g-spot in the position.

“What is it, princess? T-t-too much?” He teases, thrusting into you given the delayed movement of your hips.

“I can do it myself, Sunghoon,” you breathe out, the sound of his full name making him raise a brow at you just as your hands now found the mattress, bracing yourself at either side of his head.

“Do what, huh? Fuck me with those weak little knees?” He tsks, rutting up into you once more as a tiny yelp slips past your tired throat. "I didn't think so,” he continued to taunt.

“So mean,” you say, gripping at the sheets now, “you didn't even give me a chance to try...”

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have patience for that today, pretty,” he coos, finding your clothed tits with his hands before teasing your sensitive nipples in between his delicate fingers. “Just let me show you how it's properly done, yea? Promise, I’ll be more gentle this time.”

Struggling to meet his eyes, you couldn’t help but get distracted by how full you felt between your legs, especially with the way he toyed with your tits now, making heat rush from your core to your face.

“I’m not talking to myself, am I princess?” His voice comes out raspy, just as his hand finds your chin, pulling it down so you’d face him.

“S-Sunghoon,” you stammer, being so stuffed to the brim with his deliciously thick cock that you could hardly form a coherent thought right now.

“Go on, baby, I’m listening,” he says in between, sitting up slightly to place a kiss on your jaw. “Want me to take the lead?”

You hate what his condescending words are doing to your mind, but at the same time, his constant teasing was always such a turn-on for you.

“Fine, you insufferable worm,” you manage to say, making him chuckle at the pet name. “I didn’t wanna ride you anyways...”

“Mhm,” he smirks, guiding you to lay on your back now, but being careful not to accidentally pull out of your heat.

You then let out a shriek of pleasurable pain as Sunghoon slams his hips down, thick cocks pounding into your sensitive depths, making your back arch.

“F-fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders to which he hisses.

“I’m holding back for you, so you know,” he groans, stalling the pace of his hips as your face obviously scrunches up with every thrust.

“Then don’t,” you say, finding his neck in your hands again as you apply just enough pressure to make him smirk, “fuck me like you mean it...”

He grinds his cock inside you a little harder this time, making your open legs tremble as you held a fierce eye contact with him, not breaking it even as he snapped into you faster now, making you whimper at how good he was fucking you now.

Grabbing your wrist, he moves your hand from his neck, interlacing his fingers with yours before pinning them to the mattress.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just ask nicely,” he says, a somewhat gentle look on his face despite how rough he was pounding into you, “you could’ve been had me fucking you like this if you weren’t such a brat...”

“Sh-shut up, Hoon,” you hiss, voice coming out in tiny wobbles given the way his forceful thrusts made your tits bounce up and down.

And your glasses are crooked on your face at this point, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while taking his cock, still trying to brat your way out of accepting the fact that you had been just as needy for intimacy with him, too.

“So much for saying thank you,” he huffed, right before releasing his weight from your hands to instead angle your thighs higher in his grip, picking up the pace as his thrusts become faster, harder, and deeper...

“Nghhh-” you whimpered, desperately clinging to his shoulders now as his ego grew with every whimper you let out for him, his own mind practically short-circuiting with the way your slick walls clenched around him now.

Leaning down, Sunghoon lowered his face near yours, swiftly taking off your glasses and tossing them on the pillow before letting his lips sink into yours, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.

“You're lucky I love you,” he slurs with a whisper, making you smile into the contact.

“I love you too, baby,” you return in between your labored breaths, just as your voice was broken by a moan ripping past your throat.

But at this point, Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer, breaking from the kiss given the way his body shuddered with pleasure now, melting into your touch as you held him impossibly close to you.

“Oh- fuck~,” your boyfriend groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck and leaving a few sloppy kisses there, just as you felt his load burst deep into your cunt.

And as sensitive as he was growing while inside you, he kept thrusting, with no intention of stopping until he felt your thighs shake beside him as you finally reached your high.

With all your squirming, your boyfriend ceased the movement of his hips, collapsing on top of you as your sweaty bodies fought to catch your breaths.

You two lay just like that for a while, Sunghoon's gentle touch caressing the curve of your shoulder while your own delicate fingers moved a few stray hairs out of his face.

“I don't know how I survived ten days without this,” he says to break the silence, making you giggle slightly at his random remark.

“Well y'know what they say... distance makes the heart grow fonder,” you reply, feeling his length slowly leave your walls as he tugs the nearby blanket over your half naked-bodies.

“Uh huh, as if either of us needed any help to feel more fond for each other anyways,” he smirks, placing a feather-light kiss to your shoulder one last time before laying down beside you, basking in the aftermath of your long over-due lovemaking...

Thank you all so much for reading this fic! I haven't really been feeling up to write anything these days, but hopefully you guys still enjoyed reading this nonetheless... Also, here's the link to my ENHYPEN MASTERLIST if you're interested in more works like this!! { PART 1 }

[radiance1]

The Ghost Prince does not, under any circumstances, answer a summoning after it was made aware he existed. None know why he doesn't, some are bitter and hateful of it while others are thankful that it's one less bloodthirsty manic to deal with.

The Ghost King meanwhile hasn't been seen in multiple eons, so the magical community who wanted to use his power just, stopped, trying to summon him for a long time.

Most magic users knew that the Ghost Prince never answered a summons, and that the Ghost King just dropped off the radar.

So could you really blame Constantine for not taking it that seriously when some wannabe hotshot cultists try to summon both of them in the middle of a city to wreak havoc?

He'll give them some credit though. Points for doing it in broad daylight and actually being somewhat of a threat with not relying on just summoning the Ghost royalty and figuring out what to do from there.

The area they were in was somewhat destroyed, then the cultists manage to complete the summoning circle to summon both of them and Constantine, well he just light up a smoke.

It isn't going to work anyways so what does it matter?

...

Is that a fucking Ice cream truck he hears? Who the fuck is driving an Ice cream truck while their city is being under attacked with cultists trying to summon eldritch ghost royalty?

He'll give them some points for dedication, though.

Then he looked at the cultists and nearly had a goddamn heart attack to see that the summoning circle is actually fucking lighting up and working.

The Bat is so gonna give him a headache over this.

----

Danny Phantom, crown prince of the Infinite Realms. Does not answer summons.

For one, it is annoying as shit, whenever someone interrupts his day just to ask for infinite power (that he can't give), world domination (that he won't do) or infinite riches (which he also can't do).

It just got annoying being summoned all the time so. One day he just, well, no. And hey, it worked out well enough for him to not continue doing it.

Then he also learned that Pariah Dark is basically the same, after he got out the coffin and stopped trying to take over the world for whatever reason. He was actually a pretty swell guy!

He was just with him too, with him being not so swell at the time for making him go through lessons about Ghost etiquette, rules, stuff that's expected of him as the crown prince.

And don't even get him started on the engagement and marriage proposals.

Overall, he just wanted to find an excuse to leave. Then he felt the familiar suggestive pull of a summoning and, instead of rejection as he usually does in a second. He thought for a bit if he wanted to go with that or crown prince duties.

It was tempting, but dealing with cultists seemed worse than this so he was about to reject.

At least, before he heard an Ice cream truck playing in the background. He doesn't even know how the hell that popped up through the pull but by the gods has it been a while since he's had Ice cream.

So he answers and is gone with a pop.

Pariah Dark just stares for a good second or two, before breathing out and deciding to also answer. Fright Knight is just there, off to side, questioning what he should do now.

Danny wastes no time with the cultists on the other side and in fact, he pushes them out of the way and goes diving for that Ice cream truck he hears. Only to realize he doesn't, have any money on him.

Fuck.

Pariah Dark is less inclined to follow the rules imposed by humans like money, but he does know it can be important. Once in a while. Not that often, but it has its times.

So when he sees his adopted son being sad over being unable to pay for some kind of human delicacy, he digs around in his hair (yes, his hair.) and pulls out some money and puts it on the counter as payment.

The man inside the tiny vehicle had shrieked before getting what they wanted. Which is good. Fear is a good motivator, Pariah thinks.

Unknown to him, it wasn't out of fear (Well, mostly) but because the Ghost King placed down a coin made of pure, solid gold on his counter.

The two then go about their business in the human realm, completely forgetting about the fact that they were summoned here for something.

Constantine is both relieved and about to have an aneurysm at seeing Infinite Realm royalty only answering a summon because of Ice cream.

[vamptarot]

Your FS’ Most Complimented Trait | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

pile one : - dongmin

𐙚 : the moon, the high priestess, the emperor, the fool, the magician, the lovers

⭑ their most complimented trait

Their aura is what gets complimented most often! Even if people don’t necessarily have the words for it, they know there is something really unique about your person that simply just makes heads turn. (sort of ironic that Dongmin is the picture for this pile.) Although, younger people might actually compliment their aura.. of course, most of this is in a playful manner and yet there still is something so admirable about your future spouse my dear pile one.

They could potentially have the sort of beauty where you can’t help but admire them with ever loving eyes, getting lost in the moment because even if for a moment the world disappears and you don’t even consider snapping out of it, you just get stuck in admiring them with the shrieking pain of desperation in your chest that screams at you, begging you to caress their face because you don’t want this moment to pass, but you know it will, and eventually the realisation that they are a human and not a work of art hits you.. so you have no choice but to stay still and process your emotions without looking crazy in their eyes.

You know, that sort of drop dead gorgeous beauty.

They have a beautiful smile and a pretty laugh/giggle. I won’t lie to you, they are the sort of person who makes people question their sexuality. Not necessarily by flirting, but by just existing.

Also probably make some people annoyed, because even if they aren’t someone’s type people just absolutely cannot help but be attracted to them, to be charmed. They don’t even gotta try for it! For some of you, you could also react like this when you see them and be around them in general lol.

Though that’s for a very specific subgroup of people reading this pile! Specifically for feminine presenting, short, usually shy and thiccer people who are into men!

The guides present for this reading that I work with showed me a tall, tan, blond dude with green eyes shirtless in summer wear just looking cool. Then the reader being shy as they watch them on their phone and blushing like crazy lol That’s for a very specific someone though, so only take what resonates! (actually some of you reading, or your future spouse, could be non-binary! you go monarch fr)

⭑ how it makes them feel

Unfortunately this makes them very uncomfortable! :(

It depends on who it’s coming from, of course! The uncomfortable feeling usually comes from when they are being complimented by older women and men. By this, I mean people over 35, for some of you 40.

They feel sort of disgusted because they know their thoughts, feelings and intentions. Unfortunately, there is a lot of people who want to use them but your future spouse thankfully sees through their actions and words! They usually tend to be more careful around people like that, not trusting them straight of the bat if at all. (I don’t blame them! I connected to the older people’s energy and most of them are so gross…)

For the most part they are very annoyed. Your person is someone who works incredibly hard when it comes to their work field and for what they have. They are not the sort of person who take things for granted. The goal here is to achieve great things in life, each and every day they work hard to build up a life they can be proud of. To live comfortably, to spoil their future family and their loved ones. (Their mom especially!) Getting compliments on their work is how they know they are doing great and are on the right path in life.. that they can truly fulfill their goals. Yet, they don’t hear any of that. They work hard, and get complimented for their looks. It’s annoying.

They could often look at the compliments as fake, as if it comes from two faced people. Believing them is just something hard to do, at least in their eyes. In their belief most of them compliment your future spouse just to kiss up to them, because they have something to gain. So they could be pretty influential people my pile one. Although, I think it’s important to mention that they tend to be a bit insecure, so they might think these things even at times where people are being genuine towards them!

⭑ what they wish to be more complimented on

The love that they have in their heart! For some of you, this could be related to spirituality as your person is religious. I do think this is mostly relevant if you are Christian, Muslim or have another Abrahamic religion in your heart. Although, for most people this is for romantic love. ᡣ𐭩

In their eyes they love deeply, in a beautiful and honest manner. They are a lover boy. There is a huge wish to be appreciated for the person that they are. They try their best. Every second of the day, even when they fail.

Your future spouse’s heart is very fragile, they are a sensitive soul. So when you get to be with them, please treat them gently. They are kind, forgiving, understanding, polite, funny and someone who wants good for all. They know this too, and so do the people around them. Which can break their heart, because there could be times where their head is filled with confusion about what they could have possibly done wrong. (Nothing btw. Literally didn’t do anything wrong.)

I also do see that in the past romantic partners have unfortunately mistreated them, so they wish to be appreciated in a romantic manner. To be held and told they are doing a good job. That they can never be seen as only a second option, and that they are someone very competent. Honestly your future spouse just wants to be told they are doing a good job in life. That’s their wish for a compliment.

possible ages : 14, 17, 19, 24, 26, 30, 32 [don’t be alarmed, we just have a very mixed crowd of readers in this pile is all.]

— ✮⋆˙ : brazil , tank top , duck , ‘tikkitakka’ , red clothes , bone cracking , count down (1 2 3 4 5) , ‘love of my life’ , leo , mickey mouse , 2020/21 audios , model

my pile one ;; your future spouse is such a sweetheart, ir deeply saddens me that they have to go through something like this! being treated as nothing but a pretty doll when you have strong feelings and a sense of accomplishment can be soul crushing.. but don’t worry, they will get through this!! someone in this pile also has a future spouse who is 19 and a model, their sensitivity came through a lot. (not a bad thing btw) so, I thought that’s really cool and felt like mentioning! either way, if you liked this pac please go ahead and take a look at my paid readings if you wish to!thank you for reading! 🫶🏻

pile two : - drinks !

𐙚 : the emperor, the wheel of fortune, the hermit, the lovers, the world, the moon

⭑ their most complimented trait

The thing they get most complimented on is… their success! Pile two, I do think your future spouse is very successful in life and have achieved many great things that they are proud of. Of course, this can be related to money but it’s not necessarily the case you know? It’s just that they can overcome anything that life throws at them and come back twice, thrice or even more successful.

This is admirable to many people because the way they do it is just almost humanly impossible. Their persistence and power of will is incredibly strong, it’s like nothing can bring them down at all.

It’s like they if you broke their arms and legs so they cannot fight you, they would still bite and not let go of you. If you steal all their money they will use all their resources to earn more and form a community that will make sure that you never do it again.. they go far, but never too far. They always know what to do and how to win, and they do.

Honestly this might annoy people sometimes out of jealousy, but they still cannot help but admire your person. ‘Cuz they are just cool like that, you know?

Those things of course, have not happened but were just examples! Regardless they always know how to thrive, how to live and make life around them fun. They even make living for the people around them easier, so they could possibly spoil their family members and help out their parents with bills and such. (Someone’s guides are calling me to mention this person is someone of colour!)

They work hard while making it look easy!

⭑ how it makes them feel

Unfortunately, your future spouse becomes anxious when people compliment them too much. They don’t mind a few times, they might even agree and feel good to be seen. To be viewed as someone who can get things effortlessly, easily and thrive.. They like to be viewed like that as they don’t like to be viewed as weak and someone who can’t do anything. They want to feel useful.

Their fears could possibly set in when they can feel people’s jealousy.. They might have bit of trust issues, paranoia or trauma for past bad experiences. (different for everyone 🫶🏻) This could make them very cautious as they think people could be planning on taking the things they worked hard for away from them.. Losing everything is one of their biggest fears.

Another one is.. not living up to people’s expectations. They could possibly be scared of people expecting too much from them. That if they were to see the real side of them, the real them, people would be left disappointed. They don’t want to feel like a fraud, let alone be one. So this anxiety is with them pretty much most of the time. It has settled in a place deep inside their heart.

It’s not impossible to get rid of this feeling of course, but they might need a bit of time to heal from it. Possibly professional help. I truly do hope they will be able to receive the help that they need! 🫶🏻

You will play a huge part in their healing journey also, just make sure to not give up your health for the sake of theirs!

⭑what they wish to be more complimented on

There is not much to say here truly, because their wishes are really very simple. Their wish is for the current compliments to continue… from a genuine place. For them to be true.

They want to keep being successful, and be acknowledged for it. Although, they do want to be acknowledged about their emotions too.

They are scared, nervous and quite frankly they have a hard time opening up about this even to their close loved ones. Unfortunately, shame seems to sit in their heart with loneliness as it’s company and it’s the cause of their misery.

They want to be comforted, praised about how good of a job they are doing at controlling their anxiety and keeping their feelings in check. It is something that they are proud of, but possibly need validation about.

They don’t get it because they don’t tell anyone about how they feel, and if they do try to they just can’t seem to open up completely. They know this too, and don’t blame anyone for it. They just crave emotional intimacy and for someone to be a peaceful company for them, a person that can naturally calm them down. Their daydreams often revolve about being nurtured by someone trustworthy.

possible ages : mid 20s & mid 30s ! 🫶🏻

— ✮⋆˙ : ���please turn of the lights’ , akmu , bolo , playlists , wiping someone’s tears , father-son issues [‘you have to be manly!’ , ‘a real man doesn’t… ‘ and so on], frozen yogurt

my beautiful pile two, I truly hope your future significant other can heal in their own pace as they don’t seem like a bad person, truly. and the very same goes for you, as you could potentially relate at some parts to their feelings.. you are doing good, i am proud of you. you are cool too! i am sorry I couldn’t channel much, they just happen to be a private person. 🫶🏻 regardless, if you enjoyed this and would like to, please feel free to check out my paid readings. thank you for reading!

pile three : - hyunwook !

𐙚 : the empress, the fool, the devil, the hermit, the lovers, temperance

⭑ their most complimented trait

There are two bigger subgroups in this pile, so that’s how I am gonna treat your reading. Please look at which group you resonate with and read for that my beautiful pile three 🫶🏻

Group one is for people with a future spouse who already have kids, group two is for people with a future spouse who is younger! Late teens to early twenties.

group one

So.. I do think some of you already know this, but your future spouse is already a parent. This could be to one or multiple children, although I think young kiddos, not grown up ones.

They constantly get complimented on how good of a parent they are and how much of a good job they are doing. Their hard work constantly shows through the efforts they constantly make and put out in the world so their family can live happily.

Even if they don’t have a lot, they would rather give everything they have to their kids so they don’t gotta suffer and just put up with their situation in quite. For some of you this is about food.. they would rather starve than to have their kids not eat.

Fortunately, for most people in the pile it never gotten that far and the compliments are much more leaning towards how they give everything they can to their kids! To pamper them. so they can live a happy life! 🫶🏻

group two

My beautiful, in your case your future spouse gets complimented a lot on being a good son/daughter to their parents.

The energy here seems really cute because your future spouse is really humble, they get shy easily and just quietly take the compliments or say thank you in order to be polite.

I do see that the compliments are very well deserved though, as they help out whenever they can, especially their mother.

[for those into girls this is just a cultural thing, as you will marry a poc person. that’s a really small amount tho, most of the people reading this pile will be with a man.]

Either way they could help out with things like washing clothes, moving things around, building things just so the burden is less on their mother. This comes from a place of appreciation towards their mother, and for the most part a lot of love too. They are aware their parent(s) already has it hard, so they try to help out wherever they can.

⭑ how it makes them feel

Both groups are about guilt, but very different kinds, so do please choose whichever one you resonated with the most in the previous point 🫶🏻

group one

If you resonated with group one it is very much likely that your future spouse is currently married. Their guilt revolves around not actually loving their spouse, but everyone praising them for being a good parent. In their eyes, a good parent is loving towards their spouse in order to set a good example.

At first I actually wrote father, so this could be a man who grew up in either a household where the mother was respected.. or one where she wasn’t and he hated it. That honestly depends person to person, but the whole point is they love their mom and want to honour her by showing that they were raised right.

Either way, they want to be a father their children they look up to.. they do. [I know that sentence doesn’t make sense, but someone’s guides want me to form it that way so I am keeping it.] They just can’t do it, because they just don’t love their spouse at all. It’s not that they want their kids to hate their parent(s), but they cannot bring themselves to keep doing this for long.. which makes sense, they will meet you after all.

They could also at times when they feel stressed could potentially be more cold towards their kids than intended or just not live up to the mental image they had of themselves in their head. It’s those ‘I love you but I don’t like the way you are acting right now’ moments. Honestly they really just seem to be a new parent, not really used to kids crying or being overwhelming… so they could at times act in ways they aren’t proud of and will forever be ashamed of. Doesn’t seem like a bad person tho, just lots of big emotions.

group two

If you get uncomfortable by sexual things easily, please do prepare mentally or skip this because I am going to be picking up on their guilt in regards to sexual experiences.

So, I do think they have an immense amount of guilt because they do not think they are a good son/daughter/kid. People have this certain image of them, that they are good, angelic or even perfect.. when that’s far from the truth. In their eyes at least.

They do think like this because they feel an intense sense of shame. Your person for sure has a porn addiction, although it’s not severe, it doesn’t stain their mind or influence the way they behave with people at all. It’s just that if they feel the urge, they need to get rid of it. Thus, the guilt, they get called a good kid and they immediately remember their acts and feel sorry. They feel like they are unintentionally putting on a facade. Which is not true in the least, they are a good person. Unfortunately, they just don’t have a good relationship with sexual things.

They feel ashamed about certain kinks they have, even if it’s truly not inappropriate or uncommon. The things they watch, think and sometimes even that they are attracted to multiple people.. even if they are single. They are an insanely loyal person though, do not get them wrong.. it’s just that they get little crushes. Which we all do! But your person truly feels guilty and wishes they could just keep with one crush.. it makes them feel like a scum, if you will.

Truth to be told, they just want to be loved, they need a support net, a lifeline that will make things okay.

Most of these issues stem from trauma, and while I can pick up on several I will not be saying them since it would be disrespectful to tell their vulnerable moments to everyone on the internet 🙂‍↕️ So, sorry! I cannot tell you the hardships they went through. Since they are your future spouse, they will tell you themselves eventually.

⭑ what they wish to be more complimented on

Nothing! This is the shortest explanation out of all the piles in this topic.. because there is truly nothing they wish to be complimented on.

They just want to improve themselves, live a good life and be the person that they strive to be. There is this ideal version of themselves that they wish to achieve, as long as they can do that they don’t really care what people say. Good or bad, they don’t give much importance to people’s compliments because at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter and can change in the blink of an eye if the person just oh so ever slightly changes.

They just wanna be well disciplined, well mannered, hard working, well kept and in shape. They have high expectations of themselves and they wanna reach it. So that’s what they focus on, not what potential compliments they could get if they improve if that makes sense?

Compliments don’t matter much to them, it’s just that they have a breaking limit / point when they can’t handle hearing them anymore. A few times it’s fine, but eventually they will get annoyed by them. Especially if it’s repetitive. It’s like an ick, or they can tell when someones fake. To them it’s one of those little annoying moments in life that you sorta have to politely go through in order to avoid trouble or more bothersome things to deal with. Kinda like washing dishes! (Lol, what?)

possible ages : late teens (17-19), early twenties (20-24), mid thirties!

— ✮⋆˙ : taylor swift playlists , jerseys , papaya (fruit!), cannibal by kesha , hentai / yaoi / yuri , painted nails (red / hot pink) , lovebird , 00s / 10s movies

my dearest pile three, your future spouse is going through it 😞 thankfully they will be able to heal from all of this! I don’t blame them for the guilt that they feel, but please don’t be too harsh with your words when it comes to them! It’s something that will stick even if they like to pretend that they don’t care, ya know?… I am sorry that I couldn’t dive as deep into their guilt as possible but privacy exists for a reason! Didn’t wanna be disrespectful.. Either way, if you enjoyed the reading and perhaps feel like it feel free to check out my paid readings! thank you for reading!

[moonstruckme]

hey! could i request a james potter x reader fic pls?? i have been thinking about him specifically non stop and now i just wanna be domestic and cute with him-

Me too lovely :')

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 661 words

You’ve told James that you’re painting your toenails on the kitchen counter because it has good light, but he knows it’s really because you want to be near him. He’ll have to clean the counter again after you go, but he’s not complaining. He wants you near him too. 

And anyway, the kitchen does have good light. It streams in through the window to tangle in your hair and glance off your skin, illuminating the concentrated set to your mouth as you bend over your foot on the counter. 

James kisses you lightly, and one corner of your lips quirks up like you’re trying to stop it but can’t quite manage. You taste sweet and a bit tart. 

“Don’t mess me up,” you warn. “This is my last coat, it’s do or die.” 

“Stop eating my blackberries,” he counters, “and we’ll see. No promises.” 

You finish with your nails, setting the brush back in the polish and nabbing another blackberry from his bowl. James gasps, betrayed though not surprised. He pinches your side.

You laugh, leaning away from him fruitlessly. “Stop, I’m going to knock polish onto the rug!”

“You could at least vary your snacking,” James says. “My fruit salad is going to have hundreds of pieces of melon and two blackberries if you keep on like this.” 

“I just like blackberries best.” 

“So does Remus,” he chides with no real severity. “And when he gets here later today and they’re all gone, who do you think will be blamed?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, smiling angelically. “He doesn’t need to know there were going to be blackberries in here to begin with, does he?” you ask. The hope in your voice sparkles like sunshine off the ocean. 

James caves instantly at that tone, but he pretends to take at least a second to mull it over before capitulating. “Fair enough. Have at them, lovie. Leave no trace.” 

You descend like a hawk upon your prey, clawing through the bowl of fruit and popping blackberry after blackberry into your mouth. 

“I’m thinking of going to the store in a bit,” you say. 

James grins down at his cutting board, slicing the skin off a wedge of cantaloupe. “To replenish Remus’ blackberry supply?” he asks. He knows you’re too tenderhearted to truly rob his friend of something he enjoys; you’d be racked with guilt for the rest of the night. 

“To get lemons for lemonade.” You touch your big toe delicately, testing the dryness of your polish. “And if I stumble upon blackberries that look good while I’m there…” You shrug, turning away from him like you think you can hide your smile. As if he can’t hear it in your voice. “Then maybe I’ll grab some. To keep the peace.” 

James reaches over and grips your foot, channeling as much love as he can fit into a good squeeze. You gasp and nearly shriek when his thumb digs into a ticklish spot on your arch, grabbing onto his shoulder to keep from tipping off the counter. He sets a hand on your side to help, and he can feel your ribs shaking as you laugh. 

“Sorry, sorry,” James laughs. “I forgot about that spot.” He didn’t. “Wait for me to finish and we’ll go together, yeah?” 

Your nose scrunches with your smile. “Why, you wanna keep an eye on the blackberries?” 

“I was thinking we’d just get extra,” he proposes. 

You hum contentedly, and he takes the invitation to get further into your space, his hip bumping against your leg. “That’s very chivalrous of you,” you reply, your teasing softened by fondness. 

“Well, I do try. Pretty girls need to be kept happy, yeah?” 

You laugh again, grabbing James’ face in both hands. He knows when you let go, there’ll be sticky purple fingerprints on both of his cheeks. He doesn’t mind. 

“Flirt,” you accuse. 

James pushes forward until his nose is pressed up against yours. “Only for you.” 

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Barbarian! Bakugou who loves to torture you, the eldest child of one of his parent’s advisors.

As a kid, he loved to pop up behind you, out of bushes, around corners, just to hear you shriek and then he’d run off laughing. Tug on your hair until you’d bat at him.

As a teen, he was no better, galloping his horse entirely too close to you as he passed, jamming a chair in front of your door so you were late to the lessons you shared with him.

And as an adult? God, he was insufferable. His pranks weren’t so physical anymore, not aiming to make you shriek. He just liked bothering you, loved getting a rise out of you as you tried to study, his heavy boots sprawled across your desk as he sat in your chair. He loved your sharp tongue, grinning widely when you’d mutter our complaints over being his advisor one day.

You never understood why the women around the palace and kingdom fawned over him. Sure, he was handsome, with his golden skin and blonde locks and eyes the color of your favorite wildflowers… but he was an ass, and you both knew it.

But despite all his torturing and pestering, you never fought back, a fact that had him amping up his antics, getting bolder.

It’s how you end up in your current situation, pinned up against a shelf in the library, Bakugou’s hulking figure closing you in as he smirks down at you. He’s entirely too close, and you hold a book clutched to your chest to try and create a sort of barrier between you and his roaming gaze.

He looks entirely too comfortable like this, licking his lip before he speaks, his voice low and teasing. “Yknow my parents keep telling me that eventually I’ll have to settle down and start producing heirs. As my future advisor, I think it’s only fair you help me practice, for the good of the kingdom.”

Your eyes widen and cheeks heat at what he’s suggesting, and panic trips in your chest as he begins to lean in closer. You react without thinking, lifting the heavy book in your hands and swinging.

You didn’t really mean to hit him, only hoping that he’d dodge the swipe, but there’s a harsh smack as the leather makes contact with his cheek and his face is shoved sideways.

You gasp, the book dropping from your grasp with a clatter as your hands cover your mouth in horror, already babbling out apologies as he straightens, rubbing his cheek.

You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can see all your hard work and parent’s legacy crumble before your very eyes, sure that you’ve doomed your entire family with one accidental strike.

Tears begin to bubble at your lashline, blurring your vision as he turns to face you. You’re quick to cover your face, horrified to let him see you like this. You jump when a hand circles around your wrist and tugs it down, calloused from years of wielding a sword.

A moment later, he’s pressing the book back into your hand, quiet as you stare up at him in surprise, lip wobbling. He’s still silent as he cups your cheek, swiping away a tear that’s rolling down your skin, and you’re surprised to see that his ruby eyes are gentle, a sharp contrast to the usual glint he usually dons when looking at you.

“Shouldn’t tease you so much, ‘m sorry,” he murmurs, and your mouth falls open in surprise at his apology, especially since you can already see his cheek purpling where you hit him.

Before you can speak, he’s gone again, and you’re left staring after him, wondering what the hell just happened.

[theres-a-body-here]

If requests are open, could you do killers of your choice reacting to the new guy?

Like, the Unknown managing to lure them in by mimicking a survivor's voice

I took some creative liberty for this TW: Violence, death Characters: Trapper, Knight, Blight Male!reader mentioned

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

Evan is working on his bear-traps in his warehouse. The realm is silent, the sounds of faint cawing and the rustling of leaves echoes through the estate.

Out of nowhere, a voice calls out

"E...van?"

He stops working immediately

That was your voice, but you'd left for a trial just a while ago

There's no way you'd be back this early

Evan sighs rubbing his temples

Maybe he's been working for way too long; starting to hear things

Before he can go back to tightening bolts, he hears it again

"Evan"

He immediately stands up, so abruptly that his chair falls over

The stomps outside, confused and a bit worried

"(Y/N)?"

He hears no response

The air is still and the hairs on his body stand stiff

Suddenly, the smell of rotting flesh and wet copper

Something was wrong

Evan notices that even the crows have stopped making sounds

Slowly, he tries to head back into the building; he needed his cleaver

He turns around to look at the entrance to the warehouse, only to see it

The Unknown was hiding, waiting for him to see it

It attacks Evan before he can react

The first thing on Evan's mind, once the Entity revives him, is to find you

The Knight - Tarhos Kovács

Tarhos was sharpening his sword in the Borgo, listening to the crackle of the fire he sat by

The peace is interrupted as a bloodcurdling scream pierces through the air

It's you, or at least it sounds like you

If Tarhos had taken the time to listen, he would've noticed how off it sounded

But he was way too panicked to think

To him, you were in danger

With sword gripped tightly, he booked it to where he heard the scream

"(Y/N)! WHERE ARE YOU, MY LOVE!?"

He's absolutely distraught

"SPEAK TO ME, (Y/N)!"

every one of his questions is answered by another screech, coming from another direction

Before he knew it, Tarhos was worn out and exhausted

It seemed that was the thing The Unknown was waiting for

Before Tarhos can even think about catching his breath, The Unknown attacks him from behind, knocking him clean off his feet

A tendril of flesh stabs into Tarhos's thigh

The Knight reacts quickly, swinging his sword and slicing the appendage through with one slice

"It...hurts... No...m-more"

It spoke in your voice, as if mocking Tarhos

His heart sunk into his chest, mind flooding with questions as to why this creature knows what you sound like

The Unknown shrieks as it feels his flesh sizzle, snapping his head around to see Alejandro pressing his hot iron into it; the rest of the Compagnia manifesting alongside him

Seeing the thing distracted, Tarhos stabs the beast through the chest

The Unknown is unnerving unaffected, pulling away before crawling away on all fours

Tarhos isn't having that, reeling his arm before throwing his sword like a makeshift spear, pinning The Unknown's hand into the ground

He grits his teeth as he stomps towards the monster, screaming at it

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY (Y/N)?!"

Durkos and Sander rush forward as well to kill the creature

The Unknown uses its axe to chop its own hand off to escape

"(y/n)... my (y/n)" it repeats mockingly as it slinks away

The Blight - Talbot Grimes

Talbot was working on his serums and elixirs when he heard your voice

"Hey....co...come over.....here"

Right off the bat, he knew it wasn't you

Talbot knows you

He knows your every scream, moan, laugh, and tone

This was something attempting to mimic that

Despite knowing whatever was calling out was trying to luring him in, he was curious to see what exactly it was

He makes his way outside, albeit apprehensively; his cane and syringe ready

The voice speaks again

"Wha...what is that...?"

It seems to be repeating something its heard previously

Were you in a trial with whatever it was?

It also seems to be getting better at mimicking you

Talbot hurries his steps to find the source of the voice

Its not long before he comes face to face with The Unknown

Talbot isn't afraid, he's downright furious

Whatever this monster was, it clearly had some contact with you

Why else would it know how you sound like?

The fight isn't pretty; both sides inflicting heavy damage on the other

In the end, The Unknown screeches as it retreats from sight, slinking away into the fog after seeing that Blight wasn't easy prey

Talbot managed to stab the syringe into the thing, acquiring a blood sample

Experimentation could wait

He needed to find you

The real you

[amostimprobabledream]

The Sweetest Violence (Homelander x Reader)

Just a lil drabble, also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57696463

"Sssh..." Blood. So much blood. The fetid stink of it is everywhere. It fills up your nostrils and chokes up your senses. It's thick and sticky in your hair, hot and drying in stiff patches on your skin. You feel like you could take a hundred showers, soak in the bath for hours and hours and it still wouldn't get rid of the sensation of blood clinging to your flesh. Homelander doesn't seem to notice or care about the blood. He carries you easily, clasped to is chest, his own face splashed with blood, dark patches of it staining his blonde hair. The brilliant blue of his eyes seems to burn through a streaky veil of scarlet, made all the more vivid by the contrast. "It's all right," he whispers to you as he walks, his soothing tone at odds with the gore-soaked state of him. "It's okay now. Ssh. You must've been scared, huh?" Yes. You were. The people who took you saw you as nothing more than an object, a tool with which they could use against Homelander. You could tell by the impersonal way they handled you, the way they barley looked at you and didn't bat an eyelid at your screams and shouts. That scared you more than anything, the dead, cold looks in their eyes, like you were trying to communicate with machines, not people. If they could be so indifferent to your fear and confusion, what would they care about doing more permanent damage?

So, when you heard it - the rush of air and signature boom of one of Homelander's signature landings, those dramatic superhero drops that signify I am here, it was like divine intervention. The relief that hit you was like no high you'd ever experienced before, the way you imagine a shipwreck survivor must feel when they finally see the boat that's come to save them after being stranded in the brutal, unforgiving seas. That was, until Homelander got to work. Bodies. Ripped apart like paper. Heads not rolling but exploding like watermelons struck by a bat. Unholy shrieks of horror and agony drowned out in wet gurgles of blood. Eyes shining like warning lights in the gloom - inhuman, like a monster from a nightmare. You could only curl up as best you could and close your eyes to the carnage, a sob tangled in your throat, but you couldn't quite drown out the screaming and your imagination supplied you plenty of images that rivalled the horror of what was happening.

When Homelander calmly melted the chains on you and hoisted you up into his arms, you briefly wondered if you were about to die too - even though he'd come to rescue you. Your mind  is in a haze -a long time ago, somebody had explained to you the difference between horror and terror, and you felt it keenly now. You're not screaming or thrashing to escape, or outwardly freaking out at all. Instead, you feel like you've been plunged into a pool of still, frigid water and simply wait under the surface, unwilling to expend any energy into swimming up to the surface and peering out at whatever may lay above. You retreat into numbness, curiously swamped with cold despite how hot Homelander is. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit, your breath coming out in sharp little pants. Homelander can hear the frantic pounding of your heart and how you breathe like there isn't enough air, but he assumes that it's from the fear of being kidnapped, of men in dark clothes and with dead eyes. It probably hasn't even crossed your mind that the one who has driven you to this heightened state of fear is him. And you don't want him to think it, so you nuzzle deeper into him, you can't seem to stop hyperventilating no matter how you try. "S'okay," Homelander shushes you, misunderstanding your trembling, a gloved hand petting your hair like he's trying to soothe a skittish animal. He's so monstrously strong he can hold you, a grown woman, easily to his body with just one arm, and you automatically wrap your legs around him, a gesture you've done many times before, but never in this context. He's being so gentle with you that it's hard to believe you just witnessed a man being torn in half by Homelander's bare hands. "You're safe. I've got you." Yes, he does. You're locked in his powerful embrace like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. You bury your face in his chest to hide your expression as well as seeking comfort - it seems perverse to look for it from a man soaked in blood, but what else can you do? You let yourself be lulled into a calmer state, his warmth seeping into you and the slow, rhythmic motions of his hand in your hair weirdly comforting.

But you don't miss the gravel, the hint of threat in his voice when he speaks again. You know it's not directed at you, not his sweetheart, but you still feel a shiver lick down your spine as he speaks; "No one will ever take you away from me."

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It takes a mob Part 1

PART 2

Bill didn’t sign up for this.

He glanced around at his fellow gang members as the kid let out another shrill cry.

The kid was couldn’t’ve been two. He was small, in a can and from it’s shivering Bill could guess very cold.

“Aw hell..”

Lifting up the tyke, Bill grimaced as he pealed off the what he could only assume was some sort of blanket and blindly handed behind himself.

“What the fuck is on that shit?”

“What the fuck would I know Maven? Do we look like a baby experts? Kind of smells like blood..”

“Blood ain’t green Ken..”

“Did I say it looked like bloo-“

“Will you two quit yapping? The kid doesn’t look too good someone hand me a jacket.”

Bill cut the off as he ran a hand over the kid’s back. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, Marv handed over his hoodie with a pout.

‘The kid is way too small’

Bill grimaced as he tried his best to wrap the kid tightly. He could probably his fingers around the kid’s waist and still be able to drop a penny between them.

“Was there anything else left with ‘im Bill? A name or-?”

“Not unless it’s on a candy wrapper.”

Bill sneered as he kicked the trash can over,

“There’s a lot of types of fucked up in Gotham but to leave a babe outside in January..”

Marv pluck the kid out of Bill’s hands and gently bounced him on his hip. Cooing gently as the boy’s blue eyes started to close before smiling and asking,

“So what’re we goin’ to name him? I vote Danny. He looks like a Danny.”

“Ayy no, we’re not naming him nothing. We are gang members, Hood’s gang but still. What we are going to do is clean and warm him up before we set him down at the Wayne foundation’s-“

Bill paused Marv let out a shriek. The kid had let out a sneeze. Usually wouldn’t’ve been that big of an issue but there was now a very big patch of ice on the building’s side that wasn’t there before.

Shiiiitttt..

The kid’s a meta.

Could a kid his age even become a meta?

How?

“We can’t take him to the foundation Bill.”

Ken muttered,

“The Bat will be notified day one an’ send him packing. Tough enough in the system as is, the second he has that M on his papers his chances of a normal childhood is zero.”

“And what do you think we can do about it? In case you forgot, our boss works with the bats.”

“We can hide him!”

Marv chimed in,

“There’s a couple dozen of us around, I’m sure if we just ask-”

“Are you hearing yourself speak? Hide him from the bats. It won’t work.”

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose as leaned against the alley.

“So that’s it we’re just going let the kid be push around the country? He didn’t came from a happy home Bill! The system will eat him alive and then there will be a freeze jr. in 15 to 20 years! Shhh shhh sorry Dan-Dan sorry, Calm down baby.”

Bill watched as Marv continued to shush the baby. For being gang member Marv has always been a gentle soul, everyone knew his soft spot for kids.

“Fuck…”

Ken chuckled as he ruffled “Danny’s” hair.

“Done being a dick?”

“Yeah, yeah.. yuck it up you two. If this blows up in your faces than I want no part of it.”

“Come on Danny let’s go find you some food. There’s got to be a convenience open somewhere around here!”

Bill sighed as the two exited the alley with the gurgling baby. Hiding him from Red hood was going to be impossible but at this point he knew when to give up a fight.

Taking one last glance Bill let out a weary chuckle and looked to the sky.

“I should’ve never left the goonion..”

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - graveyard shift

The dinging of the door alerts Sarah of someone walking in, and she barely glances up from her phone to see who it is. It's past midnight and somehow her coworker John managed to convince her to take over his graveyard shift at their convenience store. He owes her one, because she's been standing here for an hour and nobody's come in.

Not a surprise to her - nobody likes to stay out past sundown in Amity Park, even after nearly three years of ghosts appearing all over the place.

But still, it happens sometimes. So she doesn't look up. The dinging bell just lets her know that it's not a ghost, and that's really all she can ask for. The last time she worked late and a ghost came in, she was cleaning the shelves from some weird goo for an hour.

However, the lack of footsteps in the store after a few seconds worries her enough that she forces her head to lift. And a frown weaves its way onto her face when she sees no one at the door, nor anyone in the closet aisles.

...Shit, was there really a ghost here? Can they ring door when they come in? Normally she sees them just phase right through. And normally they glow, bright and jarring that leaves a migraine building behind Sarah's eyes.

Her eyes quickly scan the shelves again, looking for anything out of place -- anyone with too many heads, or too many teeth, or snakes for hair. She's pretty sure a coworker saw that once when they were working graveyard.

But she still sees no one. Apprehension raises the hair on the back of her neck, and she straightens up from her lean against the counter. Fuuuck. Was this one of those... marshmallow ghosts? An animal ghost?

Sarah really does not want to have to fight off a three-eyed raccoon looking-thing with eagle feet. She's heard the horror stories. And there was no way to contact the Phantom or the Red Huntress to come pick it up -- and she wasn't gonna try her luck with the Drs. Fentons.

Her fingers itch for the broom hanging on the wall behind her. It probably won't do much against a mutant raccoon-ghost-monster, but it'll make her feel better.

There's a rustle and crinkle in the candy aisle, and Sarah's hands are curled around the broom before she could blink. Her heart beating in her chest. She walks out from the counter, the bristled end raised like a bat in the air as she creeps apprehensively towards the noise.

There's nothing there when she peers around the side, and the aisle shelves are tall enough that she can't see over them.

She raises the broom higher. Sarah was in softball. She could take out a raccoon-eagle-hybrid.. thing.... easily. She just... needs to pretend its a golf ball. Except golf isn't softball so that's a terrible comparison.

Oh god she was gonna get her face ripped off, wasn't she.

John so owes her one. So much.

Creeping down the aisle, she keeps her ears perked for any new sounds. But all she can really hear is the soft pop music playing on the store speakers -- chosen by yours truly from her own personal playlist -- and the hum of the freezers. Ugh. This was not good for her paranoia. Like, at all.

Sarah's down at the end of the aisle when she feels a quick set of taps on her shoulder. Her nerves are already shot, so she shrieks and whirls around on her foot, swinging the broom blindly.

Only to be met with sudden and blunt resistance. Blinking rapidly, Sarah stares up and sees a black gloved hand gripping the broom handle tightly, small white bandages peeking over the side around five fingers. Following the hand down connects it with an arm, and then a chest, and suddenly she's staring at a black hoodie and black jacket.

When she tilts her head up, Sarah comes face to face with the bone-white mask and the terrifying, unearthly green eyes of their local vigilante, the Phantom.

...Holy fuck. It was the Phantom.

He was taller than she initially thought. Was her jaw on the ground? Probably. It was flapping like a fish out of water. "I- uh, you-- buh--"

Slowly, the Phantom raised his free hand and wrapped it around the handle of the broom. Sarah watches, wide eyed still and stammering as he firmly plucked the broom out of her hands and turned to lean it against the shelves.

Something about him doing that must've kicked her brain back into gear, because the first thing that comes out of her mouth is; "Your eyes are really green."

And she was going to lock herself in the freezer in the back for that one. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment, and the Phantom only looks at her blankly. Her eyes shift nervously. "Well, it's true."

It was! The green eyes of the Phantom was his most defining feature other than that unsettling mask he wore. Especially considering they were the same color as some of the ghosts. It was one of the many, many creepy things about the guy.

Looking at it gave her the same, faint headache as when she stared at a ghost for too long. So Sarah drops her gaze a little to avoid it.

The Phantom remains silent, but he raises his hands and signs something to her that she doesn't understand. Fuck, that's right. He didn't speak - and Sarah doesn't know any ASL.

Sarah cringes. "Sorry, I don't know ASL."

She can feel his burning green eyes boring into her, and he remains as silent as the grave as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone in a plain black case. She watches him turn it on -- or at least she assumes he does, there's a privacy protector covering the screen -- and type something into.

He holds it up to her face when he's done, and she squints at the screen. In the notes app, a small text reads; 'We're ready to pay.'

..Oh. This wasn't Sarah's night. Embarrassment flashes hot through her and she forces out a laugh in order to try and quell it, Phantom shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll uh- get up to the front--" She stops in her tracks.

Wait. Did that message say 'we?'

She smiles nervously, tilting her head up at the Phantom as her brows thread together. "Um," she swallows dryly, "we?" Didn't... didn't the Phantom work alone?

As if startled, the Phantom jerks. And for the first time since he showed up, he blinks and turns around. Which personally, doesn't bode that well as the Phantom swivels his head from side to side like he's looking for someone.

Sarah thinks, after the Phantom stalks up to the end of the aisle and looks around, she hears him sigh. And when he walks back, he snatches the broom with an elegant twist and knocks it against the shelves.

Thud, thud, thud!

There's very, very quiet shuffling that Sarah would have missed if she hadn't been looking for it, and then silence for a few seconds, before suddenly there's a small child pushing past her side and over to the Phantom.

And in the process, scaring the shit out of Sarah.

She squeaks and jumps, nearly tripping over her own feet as the child makes a spot next to the Phantom's side. "Where did you come from?!" She says, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

The child says nothing, just stares at her through a creepy bone-white mask reminiscent of the Phantom's. Although unlike the Phantom, he was wearing some... kind of... dark red ninja outfit?

Sarah really wasn't quite sure. It was partially covered by a jacket that clearly belonged to the Phantom and with the sleeves rolled up multiple times to his elbows. The jacket alone nearly obscured the sword attached to his hip.

...Why the hell did the child have a sword.

She looks between Phantom and the child, at a loss for words. Why-- why did the Phantom have a kid with him, why was the kid wearing a mask like his.

"You have a child with you." Sarah says bluntly, her voice flat. It betrays how shocked she feels. The Phantom doesn't say anything, as she should have expected, but he does nod shortly.

The child bristles slightly, but says nothing. Part of his mouth was uncovered, and she watched it twist downward into a scowl at her. Unlike the Phantom, his eyes were not green. She couldn't see his eyes at all, actually. They were shadowed by the mask.

There's the sound of paper thwipping, and like a magician pulling out a card, the Phantom holds out a note card to her. He stares, expectantly, and Sarah reluctantly takes it.

Written in neat writing and bold sharpie are the words; "This is Wraith."

...And that's it. Sarah glances up at Phantom. Then at the supposed 'Wraith'. Then back at Phantom. "You're bringing a child with you to ghost hunt?" She asks, and okay, maybe she's not able to hide all of the judgement leaking into her voice. "And you gave him a sword?"

The Phantom stares at her blankly, or well, probably blankly. All of his expressions are unreadable with the mask he wears. But the kid, Wraith, bristles again like a stray cat. His scowl deepens, he puffs up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something.

...Only for the Phantom to immediately snap his hand out and cover his mouth. Wraith makes an angry sound, and Phantom drags the boy into his side, seemingly nonplussed as he twists his wrist and pulls another note card out of nowhere.

"He is perfectly capable of handling himself." The card reads, and then continues; "I would not have been able to stop him anyways. Wraith would have followed me regardless."

Did he have these prepared?

Best not to question it, Sarah decides. The Phantom has always been strange. So she just nods mutely and stuffs the two notecards into her back pocket. "Okay," she says, and moves around the Phantom. "I'll check you out up front."

[daycourtofficial]

hello I would like a latte with marshmallow and vanilla

Okay I cooked a bit with this one 😭 Rhys needed a bit of a redemption methinks

Order your own coffee for gingerfucker week here

Latte with marshmallow and vanilla = fluff with Atlas and a bat boy

“Uncle Rhys?”

The small voice pulled him from the papers on his desk, amber eyes looking up at him. His nephew, Atlas, fidgeted on the other side of the desk, a nervous habit his sister, Atlas’ mother, used to do in her youth.

“Yes?”

“Can Nyx and I go flying?”

Rhys sat back in his chair, a bit surprised at his nephew’s question. His grin spanned his whole face, something he couldn’t contain whenever the pride of seeing his son flying through the air entered his mind.

His grin quickly slackened. “You can’t fly, Atlas.” The words punctured Rhys, reminding him of teaching Atlas’ mother how to fly centuries ago.

“I can hold him up, daddy.” Nyx came barreling into the room just in time to wrap his arms around Atlas’ middle, picking the Autumn heir up about a foot off the ground. Nyx’s tanned cheeks puffed out, exhausting himself with the effort as Atlas tried to reach higher, making himself seme further off the ground.

“Nyx can’t even lift you off the ground, Atlas.” He chuckled, getting up from his desk. He rounded his desk, crouching down in front of Atlas and Nyx. “How about we all go flying?”

The cheers from the two small boys grew louder as Rhysand stood to his full height, his wings sprouted from his back, enjoying hearing Atlas’ awe at the sight of them. He crouched back down, scooping both boys up into his arms before running for the balcony. He made his last step on the balcony, his wings beating behind him as there was nowhere left for him to land.

Atlas shrieked in his ear, wiggling to firmly have a hold on Rhysand’s neck as they flew higher and higher. The air was getting colder the higher they flew, the sky a bright shade of blue

Atlas’ screams subsided, turning into ooh’s and ah’s as he and Nyx tried showing each other the various spots of Velaris.

“There’s my school!”

“Is that Uncle Az?”

“There’s mommy’s art studio!”

Their words were filled with amazement as Rhysand remained silent. Atlas’ hair was so vibrant in the sun, it was nearly blinding. His freckled cheeks stretched taut, bursting with joy only a child knows.

Atlas reached for the sky, his short arms not long enough to capture the sun in his hand. Rhys’s wings were an act of defiance, determination to not be kept pinned down. Did the little boy know he couldn’t defy gravity by himself? That no one reached the stars without help?

He spun through the air, delighting in the childish screams that accompanied being upside down. He flew them over the tops of Velaris, his grin growing as he began their descent onto one of the many rooftops downtown.

The boys groaned, the end of the flight disappointing them. Rhys kept them in his arms - they were almost getting too big to carry, a fact he did not want to mention to either his mate or his sister.

He kept a tight grip on them, his fingers desperate to cling to their childhood, keeping them young and happy for as long as he could.

“What’s a midday flight without cookies?” Their small, round faces quickly lit up as Rhys maneuvered to their rooftop access door, slipping inside to indulge in the whims of two small boys.

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Two

One

So, this part was kinda supposed to be attached to part one, but I got tired and the part was getting too long so here we are lmao

Anyway, we get a few parents revealed here, but most are still a mystery

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

---

Eddie is on the other side of the park and wondering if he has enough time to see that fake Parthenon when he hears the unmistakable sound of a harpy's shriek. Those things have nearly eaten him enough times at camp for their bird screams to be seared into his memory. And if he's hearing the overgrown chicken, that means it's found those demigod kids before he could.

Fuck.

He whirls around just in time to see the harpy shoot above the trees, wings flared and feathers bristling, before dive-bombing whichever unlucky kid it's decided to eat first.

"Motherfucking shit bitch," Eddie mutters, taking off across the grass to where the harpy dived.

On the bright side, he managed to find the kids pretty quick; he'd only been in Athens for a few hours. On the fucked up side, he might only be able to sneak one or two kids away from the monster. Which, like, he'd love to save more of them, but he's not exactly the best fighter. He's the best runner and hider. This is why he's sent on these missions: the camp has learned that stealth and hiding usually bring more kids into safety than straight-up attacking monsters.

Eddie skirts around a tree, just barely missing the branch that threatens to whack his head off. He can hear music (something light and jumpy, soft and clear) and kids shouting in what he assumes to be fear. Just based on the sound, he's not going to be able to sneak those kids away. They're probably right in front of the harpy.

He'll have to be a distraction so they can run. "I'm gonna fucking die today," Eddie says, resigned and annoyed all at once. He reaches up and tears off the guitar pic and chain around his neck, the small triangle bursting outwards into a shield with straps that wrap around his arm.

It's ready to withstand some harpy claws by the time Eddie gracefully trips over a tree root and reflexively tucks and rolls over his shoulder. He pops up from the ground, eyes trained to the harpy, and freezes as three very important things become incredibly obvious.

One: the kids are not, in fact, shouting in fear. They're shouting with excitement, cheering at the fight happening before them. Eddie watches as a boy wearing a baseball cap punches the air and shouts, "Get 'em, Steve! Fuck the bird up!" His words are quickly followed by two girls jokingly shouting, "Language!" in return before laughing.

Two: the song playing is coming from a Bluetooth speaker on the blankets. It's a pop song. At least, it sounds like one. It's definitely old, though, and he only knows the name (Dancing in the Moonlight, by Toploader) because one of the muses' kids sang it once at a campfire night when Eddie first arrived at the camp.

Three: the most gorgeous boy Eddie has ever seen is currently beating the ever-loving shit out of the harpy with a nail bat. His mouth is pulled back into a vicious grin, his hair is somehow unaffected by the violent swings, and Eddie can somehow tell he's dragging this fight out with the harpy to blow off some steam.

"Oh! Steve!" one of the kids shouts, a girl with a beanie covering her hair. Her hat seems to be shifting just slightly, but Eddie thinks it might be a trick of the light. "Hit her to the music, like one of those movie fight scenes."

Then Eddie hears the boy, Steve, laugh. The sound is bright and clear and pierces right through Eddie's chest. "Sure thing, kiddo," Steve says, sliding back a step and twirling the bat in his hand. He tilts his head, listening to the song and catching the drums and keyboard, and then jumps right back onto the harpy.

And he does it. He starts swinging and landing hits on the harpy in time with the drums. Steve roundhouse kicks the harpy in the chest right as a guitar solo starts, his foot making contact with the first strum. Feathers are bursting in the air around Steve, brushing by him and creating brief, tiny dappled shadows over his face. The way he fights is like a dance, especially when he has music to follow and an audience to entertain.

Here's the thing: Eddie has never been one to keep his imagination in check. Why would he? Some of his best songs have been inspired by daydreams. So, when he sees the most gorgeous boy in the world beating a harpy's ass with a violent yet graceful dance, Eddie really can't be blamed for daydreaming.

The bright sun is replaced by a full moon, the park has become the shore by the lake at camp, and the audience of kids has disappeared completely. It's just him and Steve at the lake, smiling at each other and dancing, trading off lead between them. Eddie spins Steve and Steve dips Eddie. Somewhere, Dancing in the Moonlight is playing softly, nearly drowned out by their quiet laughter and whispered jokes and the waves of the lake brushing against the shore.

Oh. Oh.

That stupid prophecy. It was talking about this. The oracle predicted this moment and, apparently, considered it important enough to actually tell Eddie about it months ago. And he's spent this entire time trying to fight that obscure prophecy, trying to turn it into something bitter and filled with rage when it's just...just Steve. And Eddie doesn't know Steve yet, sure, but not even the gods could stop him from giving it a shot.

"YES!"

Eddie blinks, dragged harshly from his daydream by the kids shouting with joy as Steve brings the bat down on the harpy's head. The monster bursts into that familiar puff of smoke and mist and dust, and the kids cheer even louder.

Steve grins and stands up straight, rolling his shoulders and cockily resting the bat on his shoulder. He starts to turn toward the kids only to stop when he's facing Eddie, their eyes meeting and catching right as the song finishes playing.

----

The rush of joy and adrenaline at beating the harpy is still surging through Steve when he sees the guy his age standing a few feet away, staring at them with wide eyes. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's a human who just happens to be able to see monsters, too. They've run into a person like that before. Then he notices the shield on the guy's arm and realizes he must be like them to some degree.

Steve blinks, his shoulders tensing slightly as he studies the other boy. Hair that definitely needs a more specialized shampoo, big brown eyes, and a whole grunge kinda vibe that Steve finds inexplicably attractive. He could spend another hour staring at the guy, but then one of the kids leaps onto his back, laughing right in his ear and nearly making him go deaf.

"That was so awesome!" Dustin shouts, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist as the other kids rush to surround him.

El grabs his free hand, smiling up at him. "Thank you for dance fighting," she says, her words almost drowned out by the other kids shouting their favorite parts and Max insisting she could have helped with the fight.

Steve grins a little wider, feeling his adrenaline drain as the relief of keeping his kids safe takes its place. "She shouldn't have interrupted our day off," he says, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the kids instead of the guy still staring at them. "C'mon, we need to keep moving."

"Where are you going?"

The guy's voice is a little rough, and Steve thinks he'd be able to pick it out from any crowd after hearing it just once. He looks over at the guy, frowning slightly. "I don't think it's your business," he says, trying to ignore the part of him that feels bad.

Thankfully, the guy doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and takes a few steps closer. "Oh, I don't know, big boy. I think your gaggle of demigods is definitely my business," he says.

"Is that a threat?" Steve asks, really hoping it isn't. It would be a shame to punch the guy's face.

The boy blinks, pausing like he's reconsidering how his words sounded. "Shit, yeah, that did sound bad," he says, frowning and tugging on a lock of hair. He pulls it in front of his mouth, a few more seconds passing before he says, "I'm gonna start again."

The guy clears his throat and the retracts his shield. It shrinks down into a guitar pic on a chain that he latches around his neck. "Okay," he says, "Eddie Munson, son of Hermes, future rockstar, and your guide to Camp Half-Blood."

"Future rockstar?" Max asks, her voice low and sardonic.

"Hermes has kids?" Mike asks.

"I've never heard of Camp Half-Blood," Steve says, pushing forward and herding the kids to stand behind him. He stores Eddie's name for later, forcing himself to focus on the whole Potential Threat to His Kids thing.

Eddie nods like this is something he's expected. "That's fine. Lucky for you, pretty boy, I'm here to explain it all."

"Pretty boy," Steve mumbles, doing his absolute best to not think about his face heating up.

From behind him, he hears Lucas groan, "Aww, man, they're gonna be gross."

Thankfully, Eddie doesn't pay them any mind. "Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven for demigods like us. It's got a barrier around it that keeps monsters out, and we make sure everyone is trained to fight monsters and survive as adults," he explains, grinning at Steve.

"Wait, how many more of us are there?" Will asks, poking his head around Steve to look at Eddie with wide eyes.

"Oh, hundreds. The gods aren't exactly known for keeping it in their pants."

"So, we'll be safe at this camp?" Steve asks slowly.

"Safe as can be, big boy."

"Is it demigods only?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods once, flashing a grin. "Of course. We've got one Olympian who helps run the camp as, like, a punishment thing. He doesn't do much, actually. But we've also got some nymphs and Chiron. Uh, there are a few monsters in the forest, but they aren't too dangerous. They're mostly for training. The main thing is that big dangerous monsters can't get to us, and the Mist keeps humans from stumbling on the camp, too."

Honestly? It sounds way too good to be true. Steve has spent years running across this country and back, collecting the kids along the way and struggling to keep them alive. How is he only now learning about some camp that's built just for kids like them?

"The Mist?" Dustin asks, pushing around Steve. He'd be halfway to Eddie if Steve didn't grab his shirt and drag him back. "What's the Mist?"

"It's, like, this camouflage thing that keeps humans from noticing monsters and our powers," Eddie explains, vaguely sweeping his hand in the direction of a few other park-goers. "It's why nobody started screaming when you beat that harpy."

"Oh, that's what it's called," Dustin says, his grin saying he's about to grill Eddie for all his knowledge if Steve doesn't stop him.

Eddie nods and looks over the kids before settling his gaze on Steve again. "You and the kids will be safe there," he says.

"I wouldn't mind settling down," Will says, tugging on Steve's sleeve and looking up at him hopefully.

The other kids nod in agreement, and El squeezes Steve's hand. "It sounds like it'll be safe for me, too," she whispers.

Gods, is it tempting. No more running around, a place they can actually settle down and call home. He could get a full night of sleep for once instead of waking up every other hour to check their surroundings. He wouldn't need to worry about food or clothes or what to do if the kids get sick.

Steve frowns slightly, thinking for a moment before looking back at Eddie. "What happens when we get there?" he asks.

"You'll be given the grand tour by yours truly," Eddie says, playfully bowing to Steve and the kids. "Then, you'll get sorted into cabins and start training."

"How will we be sorted?" Lucas asks. He sounds genuinely curious, so Steve swallows back his retort that they certainly won't be separated if he has anything to say about it.

"By your godly parent. So, pretty boy here will probably go into the Aphrodite cabin," Eddie says, winking playfully at Steve.

"Aphrodite isn't his mother," El says, pushing closer to Steve as the other kids agree.

Eddie blinks. "Uh, who is?"

Steve hesitates, studying Eddie for a few seconds before looking at the kids. This isn't something he should reveal without a general consensus from them. What he gets is a few shrugs, an exasperated sigh from Lucas, and some nods. "My dad is Zeus," Steve says, looking back at Eddie.

"Dude," Eddie breathes, his eyes wide as though his entire world has been shaken, "How the fuck are you alive?"

And Steve can't help it. He laughs, shrugging off the nerves he'd felt earlier because he just can't bring himself to mistrust Eddie. "It's a bit of a long story," he says, "but I could tell it to you on the way to Camp Half-Blood."

The way Eddie lights up is enough to slightly calm the ever-present anxiety that hums through Steve's veins. Maybe this won't be a disaster.

Tag List (there is definitely still room, so just let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie

[luxaofhesperides]

if you give a ghost a trauma: a parody fic

read on ao3.

Danny wishes to be sent someplace he could have a better family. Unfortunately, that lands him in a Gotham where tropes are made reality to the extreme. He really just can't catch a break. (or: a dcxdp parody fic where i make danny the only one able to see how bizarre things are. this does not help him in any way.)

. . .

“We’re gonna get you!” Maddie Fenton, a Bad Parent™ cries as she shoots her gun at Danny, her half dead son.

“No!” he wails, flying around as he dodges the shots. “I wish my parents weren’t trying to capture me for Evil Science Reasons! I wish I had a better family!”

“Lol, done,” said Desiree, snapping her fingers. 

Danny only has time to say Uh-oh before he’s sucked away into a magic portal and spit out into a dark and dreary city. In just the one second he’s there, before he even hits the ground, he hears gunshots, screaming, and the wailing of police sirens. Then he hits the ground and groans, releasing his ghost form to go back to being a human. 

“Where am I?” he asks himself, getting to his feet and looking around. The alleyway he’s in is empty and full of garbage just scattered around. Wherever he may be, it clearly needed to invest more in its sanitation department. 

He spots a fire escape on the side of a building and uses it to climb onto the rooftop, a totally normal course of action. Then he stares at the city, glowing with the street lights and neon business lights and a spotlight with the shape of a bat in it glowing on the clouds. 

“This might as well just happen,” Danny says, “My life is already so weird anyway.”

He stands there for some time, at a loss of what to do next. The wind is cold and brings with it a promise of rain, and from the looks of the dark clouds above him, it’s going to rain soon. Danny needs shelter, fast.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” says someone who snuck up behind him.

Danny shrieks and jumps, nearly going over the edge of the roof.

“Woah!” the person says, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to safety. “That was close!” 

Danny blinks up at his savior, then squints. This guy’s definitely not normal, since he’s wearing a domino mask and a lightly armored black suit with a blue bird emblem stretching across his chest. 

“Way to nearly kill him, Nightwing,” says a new person, dropping down onto the roof from the sky. This new person wears red and black, a pair of bandoliers crossing over his chest. 

“Well, I saved him, didn’t I!”

“Um, hi,” Danny interjects. “Thanks for grabbing me before I fell, but who are you?”

“You don’t know who we are?” blue bird asks rather incredulously.

“Do you think I’m asking just for fun.”

Red and black steps in with a smile. “I’m Red Robin, that’s Nightwing. We’re vigilantes trying to keep Gotham safe.”

Danny makes an educated guess that the city they’re currently in is Gotham. Not a city he’s ever heard before, but what does he know?

“Okay,” he says. There’s really not much else he can say.

“You never answered my question,” Nightwing says. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine. No idea where I am or how to get home, but it can always be worse, you know?”

“Did you get lost?” Red Robin asks, pulling a holographic computer up from his wrist. Tucker would kill to get his hands on something like that. Danny wonders if he can get his own as a souvenir. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he replies. Another few gunshots ring out loudly through the streets, closer than they were before. Danny flinches, then ducks down a little, looking back towards the street apprehensively. “Um. You guys gonna do anything about that?”

The two vigilantes shrug, as if that’s an acceptable course of action. And then a hand shoots up and grabs the edge of the roof by Danny’s foot, making him jump in the air. Nightwing catches him yet again and moves him away from the ledge. 

A red helmet, leather jacket wearing guy built like a pro-wrestle hauls himself up the roof easily. There are guns tucked into holsters on his thighs and a red, block bat stuck on his chest. 

“Should I be concerned,” Danny says blankly. 

“Nah, it’s just Red Hood,” Red Robin replies, “The only person he ever tries to kill is me.”

“Cause you’re a replacement. And also, get over it, that was ages ago We’re good now. I haven’t even had a Pit Rage episode in months!”

“So the bullets you shot at me last week were just for fun?”

“Yeah, and they were rubber, so it’s not like you would have gotten hurt.”

Danny takes a few steps closer to Nightwing, hiding behind him. He’s getting bad vibes all around from that guy. 

“Tch,” a new voice says right behind Danny, making him flinch. A young boy with a sword steps out from behind him and joins the crew of vigilantes just hanging out on the roof. “As if he’s even worth that much attention.”

“Hello to you too, Demon Brat,” Red Robin says.

“How many of you are there?” Danny asks. “Don’t you need to like, protect the city?”

“Batgirl and Spoiler are working on it,” Nightwing says.

“We’re doing what?” another voice says, and a energetic blond girl dressed in purple armor hops onto the roof, tucking her grappling hook away. Following her is another person in all black, face fully covered, with stitches covering the mouth portion to make it seem as though they can’t talk. The person leaves the blond girl behind to head straight to Danny, making him take a few nervous steps back. 

“Dead,” she says, poking his chest with a finger.

Is that a threat? It feels like a threat. 

“No?” he tries. 

“What are you talking about, Batgirl?” Red Hood interrupts. “We all know the only dead person here is me.”

Everyone promptly groans, telling him to shut up about it and go one night without mentioning his death. 

Okay, that seems concerning! Is he another halfa? Is he like Vlad? Danny’s going to be so mad if he got dropped into another world directly into the hands of another Vlad. 

“You’re dead?” he asks, leaning away from Batgirl as she pokes him once more. 

“Yeah.”

“Same hat?” Danny tries, squinting at him.

“The fuck?” is the answer, which tells him that he probably doesn’t know what Danny’s on about. There’s still a 6% chance that he’s just lying to make Danny look like a fool, though. 

6% is more than 5%, which means it’s enough for him to just act on instinct and walk right up to the gun-wielding Red hood. He tries to consciously use his ghost sense, which is an odd feeling that reminders him of the moment before he hiccups. 

A light blue mist wafts out his mouth. 

Yep, the rumors are true: this man is dead.

“Once, again,” Red Hood says, “The fuck?”

“Seconded,” Nightwing adds.

“Third!” Spoiler joins in. 

Danny takes a page out of Batgirl’s book and pokes Red Hood’s chest. It’s very solid, only hard muscle, and reminds him a bit of Dan. That’s never a good sign. Something about Red Hood is making his skin crawl though, a sense of wrongness that sets alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. 

“Did you come back instantly when you died?” he asks.

The white lenses of Red Hood’s helmet turn neon green. “Why the fuck are you asking me that.”

“Just checking. The green I’m seeing right now is making me think you’re a halfa.”

“What’s a halfa?” Red Robin interjects.

“An unlucky soul like me,” Danny responds, distracted. He lays his palm flat against Red Hood’s chest. The vigilante holds still, as if frozen, letting Danny do as he please. The ectoplasm he feels in other ghosts is usually calm, made unique by the personality of the ghost it belongs to, but it doesn’t roil and try to hurt the host like the ectoplasm in Red Hood is doing. 

He pulls back and looks around at the circle of vigilantes surrounding him. “Can anyone answer how he came back? Where did he even find this must rotten ectoplasm?”

“Pit,” Batgirl helpfully answers.

“Pit,” Danny repeats. “Like a pit of death? Toxic sludge? Landfill pit gone evil? What am I working with here.”

“Lazarus Pits,” the little one with the sword says. “How do you know about them?” He then pulls out his sword and points it at Danny, ignoring the way Nightwing hisses Robin, no! 

His name is Robin? Isn’t that just Red Robin’s name? Did this Robin have a color added to his name as well? 

“I literally don’t, but if it’s green and weird, then it’s probably ecto.” He turns back to Red Hood. “I’m gonna take care of it now.” And then he shoves his hand into Red Hood’s chest, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the other vigilantes. They try to pull him away, but Danny goes intangible, making their hands fall right through him as he gets a good grip on the ecto, sending his own out in a steady stream to chase the rotten flow towards his hand, then yanks it out. 

It’s green and goopy in his hands, steaming slightly in the air. “Ew,” Danny says. “That’s nasty. You were just living with this inside you?”

Red Hood doesn’t seem to hear him. 

Red Hood takes off his helmet and stares at the rotten ectoplasm in Danny’s hand. Nightwing approaches him cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hood? You doing okay? How are you feeling?”

“It’s gone,” Red Hood answers, shocked. “The Pit Rage. It’s gone. I haven’t felt this clear headed since before I died.”

“That must have sucked,” Danny says empathetically, then shakes the nasty ecto off his hand. It lands on the roof with a wet splat. 

Once again: ew.

“How did you do that?” Red Robin asks, crowding into Danny’s space. Batgirl slides up behind him, trapping him between them. 

“Did you not just watch me yank it out? It was easy. Anyways, y’all got jobs to do, and I got places to go. So I’ll see you never!”

He tries to fly away, but only manages to get a few feet before he’s pulled down by multiple people grabbing at him.

“What is going on here,” A low, gravelly voice demands. Yet another vigilante appears, gliding out of the shadows. This one is much bigger than everyone else, cloaked in darkness, with a helm that has two little ear things poking out on top. 

“Batman,” Robin says, “This meta cured Hood of his Pit Madness.”

“I see,” Batman replies, looking Danny over. “Are you an orphan?”

What the fuck. Who just asks that?

“No.”

“Are your parents well?”

“Sure? My mom was pretty energetic while shooting at me before I came here.”

“You do not have to be unsafe in your home again,” Batman says, grabbing something out of his tactical fanny pack. “You can live with us instead.”

He holds out fucking adoption papers.

Danny backs up as fast as he can, shaking his head. “Oh, no! No you don’t! I did not trade one fruitloop for another!”

“No new brother?” Batgirl asks sadly. 

“Definitely not,” he insists. “No thank you! I’m fine as I am and fully plan on going home.”

Batman frowns. “You said your mother was shooting at you.”

“Yeah, and? The food in our fridge comes to life every meal and we have to fight it. This is normal for us. Chill out and put those papers away.”

The entire crew of vigilantes seems very put out with Batman obligingly puts the adoption papers away. 

“Yeah, I’m done here. Go back to protecting the city. I’m just gonna… go.”

Danny doesn’t wait for them to say anything else before flies away, remembering to go intangible this time. He soars through the polluted streets of Gotham, weaving between tall buildings made with dark stone and decorated with gargoyles. It’s all very dark and dreary, which means Sam would love it.

She would not be loving the pollution, though. Danny certainly isn’t. 

“I wish I could go home,” he says loudly, looking up at the sky expectantly. 

No magic portal appears to yoink him back. 

“I wish I was at home again, and not here!”

Desire does not appear to help him out. She leaves him stranded in Gotham, pouting at the sky until he gives up and flies down to sit on a new roof and angst about his situation. Hopefully this time a gaggle of vigilantes won’t bother him.

Resting his head against his hands, he sighs. Then again, and again, loudly. “Man, this sucks,” he says to himself.

“What’s got a kitten like you so down?” someone says behind him.

“I’m so tired of random people sneaking up behind me on rooftops,” he informs them without turning around. If they wanna talk to him, they gotta got to him, not the other way around.

“Ah, ran into the Bats, did you?”

They’re called Bats? But only two were Bats. None of the other vigilantes fit the theme. That’s just lazy and inconsistent. They should rebrand to something better.

The person walks over and sits down next to him. Danny glances over and is startled to find a woman in a leather body suit, with a hood that has cat ears and googles with an orange tint. 

…Is everyone in this city just dressed strangely at all times? Is this the normal fashion of Gotham?

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. Who are you?”

The woman laughs. “Oh, so you haven’t heard of Catwoman?”

“Nope. No clue who you are.”

“Well,” she purrs, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m a thief.”

The dots connect in his mind. “Like a cat burglar!”

“Yes, like that.”

“Man, this city is wild and I come from a place that deals with ghosts on a daily basis.”

“So what are you doing in a place like this? Gotham isn’t kind to newcomers.”

Danny sighs, yet again, and tilts his head back to look up at the cloudy, starless sky. “I made a dumb mistake and got sucked into a magic portal that spit me out here. I have no clue how I’m going to get home.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

He glares at Catwoman. “I’m not open to being adopted. I’ll just eat any papers you send my way.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she reassures, “I have no interest in being a mother. But I have a spare bedroom if you need it, and I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks of the trade. It’ll be fun, messing with Batman.”

Ah, so she’s doing this for Trickster Reasons. Danny can respect that. 

And he also doesn’t have any other options. Considering how much gun violence and general violence he’s hearing in this city, he’ll probably be killed an embarrassing number of times just from trying to find a place to sleep on the streets for one night. Between cold, dangerous streets with storm clouds hanging heavy over his head or a guest bedroom in the home of a thief with a theme, there’s really no choice.

“If you don’t mind me hanging around, I’d really appreciate having a place to sleep until I figure out a way home.”

“Come along, then! I was just about to turn in for the night.” Catwoman stands up, stretches, then takes hold of the whip on her waist and snaps it out. She takes a running leap off the building, then throws her whip out to wrap around a billboard to swing across the street. 

Danny watches her go, then follows her lead, flying behind her, ready to catch her just in case. But Catwoman moves with ease, clearly experienced in recklessly moving through the streets, and makes her way to a highrise apartment with no trouble at all. 

They land on a balcony just as the sky rumbles with ominous thunder. Another second later, and the clouds open up and heavy rain begins to fall. 

Catwoman throws the door open and they both scramble to get inside before they get drenched. The lights flick on, revealing a stylish modern apartment, filled with art pieces and ornamental bonsai trees. A few quiet cries come from corners of the room, and then cats appear, one after another, moving around Danny’s legs curiously before turning to Catwoman. 

“That was a close one,” Catwoman says conversationally as she takes off her hood and googles, revealing her face. Her pixie cut is messy and her eyes are bright and sharp, just like a cat’s. “I suppose since we’re going to be working together from now on, that we properly introduce ourselves.” She holds out a hand for to shake. “Selina Kyle. I look forward to the trouble we’ll cause together.”

Danny stares down at her hand, then takes hold of it. Looks like he’s going to be a thief! Well, it’ll be a fun story for later. 

He doesn’t want his name attached to his new life of crime, though. And, he figures, this is a fresh start. New life, new name. There’s one that pops into mind immediately, and he latches onto it, ready to step into the world of crime. 

“Call me Neal Caffrey,” he says, shaking her hand. “I’m ready to start when you are.”

[elizabethemerald]

Summoning the Cat

DP X DC prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2

Danny attempts to summon his sister via a ghostly spell circle as a prank but instead keeps accidentally summoning the bat boys of Gotham instead. He even accidentally summons Bat-cow instead when he tries to summon Cujo. Annoyed and confused, Danny disconnects the summoning quickly each time. Finally, when Plasmius takes an attack a little too far, Danny attempts to summon his mom to snap some sense into him. Instead of summoning Maddie Fenton he summons Selina Kyle who had a lost a child that was hers and Bruce’s when the child was baby. Turns out Danny is a SelinaxBruce baby. 4812 words

***

Selina Kyle, known in certain small circles as the infamous thief Catwoman lept from one building to another. She landed in a neat roll that was almost completely silent. From there it was but the work of a moment to crack open the sky light and lower herself down into the apartment below her. Now usually she would enter her apartment through either the front door if she was out of costume or through the balcony door if she was. Of course, this wasn’t Her apartment. 

Some rich tool, regular attendee of both the galas hosted by the Waynes and the Iceberg Lounge owned by Penguin. The owner was a gambler, a sleazeball and utterly corrupt. More than all that though, he was a braggart. He made the great misfortune of bragging at one of the Wayne’s Galas about illegally importing a rare Egyptian statuette. The statuette, predating the pyramids, was beyond priceless. Not that Selina planned to sell it. It was just something far too pretty to gather dust in some prick’s private display when it could be in her own display instead. 

She bypassed the security almost effortlessly. She didn’t even need to break a sweat as she broke in, stole the precious cat statue (and numerous other valuables, no sense wasting an opportunity after all) then broke out and retreated to the neighboring tower. She was just about ready to gloat over her victory when she felt a presence join her on the roof. She dodged on instinct as a batarang whizzed past her head. 

“Catwoman, that doesn’t belong to you.” A gruff voice said from the direction the bat shaped blade had come from. 

“Well it does now, handsome.” She replied far sweeter as she turned to face Batman. 

He emerged from the shadows, his customary glare firmly affixed to his face. She smiled at him and playfully adjusted the zipper on her skin tight suit. Despite all of his iron will power he still couldn’t help a glance at her generous cleavage. 

“Mom?”

Her eyebrows pulled down in confusion and she glanced around the rooftop. Batman strode toward her, his usual imposing figure ruined by the fact that she had seen him completely naked and that she wasn’t paying attention to his attempts at intimidating her. 

“Catwoman, you need to return what you’ve stolen. And come in for questioning about the missing diamonds from Starlabs.” 

“Mom! I need you!”

She whirled around. There was a tugging sensation on her heart as she heard those words she had desperately wanted to hear for so long. Fifteen years had passed since she had last had hope of actually hearing someone call her that. 

“Selina? What-?”

“Can it Bats.” Selina snapped as she tried to follow the tugging on her heart, but she couldn’t find any source for the voice. 

Green mist began seeping out from around her feet, forming a circle on the rooftop and the tugging grew stronger. The mist was rising up and obscuring everything around her. She could only barely make out Bruce’s growing look of concern. 

“Mom! He’s going to kill me!”

“Alan?!” Selina all but shrieked the name of the boy that had been taken from her. (Name borrowed from BatCat Spectre on AO3, Check it out!)

“Selina!” Bruce shouted just as the toxic green mist fully filled her vision and the tugging sensation grew to encompass her entire body. In the seconds she had she adjusted her costume for combat and bared the claws built into her gloves. If Alan was calling her for help, he would find her ready and willing. 

“Mom, please hurry!” The voice that had sounded distant and distorted suddenly grew close and clear as the mist began to vanish from her sight. 

Selina spun on her heel quickly taking in the boy cowering in the corner wearing an oversized NASA hoodie and the vampire? that was standing over his huddled form. Years of thieving and going toe to toe with the Bats had left Selina with incredible instincts and she used them now as she reacted. She raked her claws across the figure that towered over her son multiple times, drawing blood across his back, chest and face. She didn’t know if the sedative laced in her claws would affect this kind of creature, but the slash certainly got its attention. 

The being immediately spun, faster than any human could move to grab her around the throat. She dug her claws into his hand and wrist, digging for his tendons even as she was lifted off her feet with one hand. 

“Ah. The infamous Catwoman. This is who you summon for help? And here I thought you were calling your mother. You know very well, Little Badger, that Maddie has better things to do than come to your rescue.” The vampire said, seemingly unaffected by her ripping his hand to ribbons. “But I must thank you for delivering her. When I overshadow her I will have the best thief in the world under my control.” 

Through her fading vision she could see his eyes glowing with a red light and could feel some strange force pressing down on her mind, even as she went through all the exercises Bruce had taught in how to resist mind control. 

“You don’t get to touch her!” The same young voice that had called for her before shouted out. 

Then her vision was once again filled with overwhelming, toxic green light. She fell to the ground released from the hold on her throat and the pressure on her mind disappeared in the same instant. She gasped for air then stood and braced herself for combat. 

“Oh, Ancients! I’m so sorry!” The boy, who looked so much like Bruce cried as he jumped to her side to make sure she was alright. 

Selina looked around for their assailant but all she could see was a smoking hole dug through the building. She couldn’t help but let her eyes widen at the clear power Alan possessed. 

“I was trying to summon my mom to come and help me, but for some reason you came instead. It’s like when I tried to summon my sister and I kept getting all the different bat boys from Gotham. Like I got Nightwing and Red Robin. I even got a cow once when I tried to summon my pet!” 

The boy kept talking at a rapid pace as he checked her for injuries. If it weren’t for having been around Dick when he was Robin she might have been able to understand Alan as he was speaking. Selina felt a chill around her neck that eased the pain in her throat. Something in his words stuck out to her. 

“Did you try to summon your sister or your sibling?”  She asked, looking over the boy curiously. 

Warning bells were ringing in her head as she examined him. He was far too thin and for how tall she and Bruce were he should be much taller at fifteen, almost sixteen. He had dark bags under his eyes and cuts on his face. When he came to her side he moved with a noticeable limp, and he held one of his arms awkwardly close to his body. 

“Uh. Sibling I think. Ghost Speak applies more weight to title than gender. Wait, why are we discussing summing semantics when Plasmius is still out there?”

“Plasmius?” Selina growled the name out even as her mind was racing at his words. 

He had tried to summon his sibling and had gotten Dick and Tim. He tried to summon his pet and had gotten Bruce’s pet. He had tried to summon his mother and he got her. She  mentally preened as the thought occurred to her. Whatever summoning ritual he had used clearly knew he was her family. But she still had the current problem to deal with before she could celebrate finding her son. 

“Yeah Plasmius. Vlad Plasmius, floating vampire wanna-be, with the terrible dress code of someone who slept through the last century even though I know he was born in the eighties at the latest. He’s way more angry than he usually is but he’s obsessed with my mom, er, my uh, adopted mom. So I thought she would snap him out of it. Now come on, I need to break the ritual connection and send you back before you get hurt again.” 

Alan dragged her back towards the glowing green sigil on the ground, but Selina dug her heels in and stopped him. He looked past her, desperation on his face, but he must have hit this Plasmius harder than he thought because he still wasn’t back. 

“Alan, you called for help. Do you really think you’re going to just send me away?”

“Wait, Alan? Why are you calling me-? Never mind. I promise I can handle him myself. He’s never beaten me before no matter how close it’s gotten and I’m sure I can handle him now even as angry and nuts as he is now.”

“Absolutely not! I lost you fourteen years ago, I’m not going to turn my back on you now!” 

The poor boy seemed frozen by her declaration. He had stopped trying to pull her towards the sigil, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Worst to her was the anguish on his face and the tears starting to shine in his eyes. What was wrong with Alan’s life that he had never had someone to protect him before. 

“Now, tell me how to fight this guy, and quickly!”

He looked at her for another second, seemingly trying to read her very soul before he nodded. He stepped back from her and a blinding ring of light covered his body. Selina panicked for a moment before the flash of light vanished and Alan reappeared. He was floating, and all of the color had been bleached from his appearance other than his previously blue eyes turning a bright toxic green, but she could still tell that he was her Alan, just like she had been able to tell from the moment she set eyes on him. 

“Ok. I didn’t want to show you my powers, but I can’t risk you getting hurt because I’m not doing my best.” He quickly floated over to a backpack in the corner and dug something out and tossed it to her. “Put that on! It will protect you from getting overshadowed. Er, humans call it getting possessed.” 

Selina briefly examined what she now saw was a quite frankly hideous bracelet. This is exactly the type of trap someone who had never been bossed around by Batman would fall into, just slip on the bracelet that is said to protect you from mind control and immediately open yourself to actual mind control. Bruce would never put the bracelet on without a hundred questions. It was exactly the type of trap Selina was going to jump into. She had to trust the feeling in her heart and the look in Alan’s eyes that he wasn’t going to hurt her. She snapped the bracelet around her wrist. 

“Oh perfect.” Alan was visibly relaxed seeing her protected, and he immediately stood back up and grabbed her hand to examine her claws. “So Vlad Plasmius is a ghost. He can phase through materials and turn invisible. If he disappears be careful but he should still be visible on thermal vision as a warm patch. He has a flame core. Your weapons and armor aren’t going to do anything, you only got those early attacks off because he was surprised.” 

Alan examined her claws for a moment then nodded to himself a smirk on his face. Another chill spread across her hands, even colder than what she had felt on her neck. Ice formed around each of her fingers and spread up her wrist to her elbow. Her usual claws were now covered with massive talons that were supported all the way down to bracers that formed on each wrist. Selina couldn’t help but feel proud at Alan’s clear skill with his powers. She wasn’t sure where or how he had gotten powers, but now wasn’t the time to ask. 

“Phantom!!!” A voice growled from the smoking hole in the wall. Alan turned to look, fear clear on his face before he returned to examining the rest of her body suit. Ice continued to flow from his hands in blue waves until almost every part of her was covered. “Phfffffffaaaaannntooommm!!!”

The lingering call seemed to be coming from every direction. Catwoman looked down at herself and was even more impressed at the ice armor her son had crafted for her. The ice was still light enough that her usual, very acrobatic, combat style wouldn’t be affected, yet covered her with leg and shin guards, arm guards and pauldrons and a flowing almost mech like armor on her torso. 

“Daniel! This is enough. You just need to listen to me and do what I say!” Plasmius shouted. 

Selina flexed her claws then darted to the side of the hole just before a pair of glowing red eyes shone into the room they were in. She looked over at Alan and now saw him standing almost fearlessly as his enemy entered the room. 

“I heard dear Maddie and that oaf, Jack had you down in their lab recently!” Selina decided to let Plasmius monologue as she navigated directly behind him. “And yet you’re still loyal to them and not to me!” 

Alan, Selina guessed he was known as Daniel here, grimaced at Plasmius’ words and she scowled, furious at him taking that tone with her son. She crouched, ready to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment. 

“Maybe all you need to learn your true place is to spend some time in my lab. I could do it too, fill jars with your organs and blood and leave you to rot on my lab table, just like your parents did!” 

Selina’s horrified shriek was the only warning Plasmius had before her claws were in his back and her weight was bearing him down to the floor. She rent his back as she pummeled him with her knees. Plasmius tried to buck her off but Alan, or Daniel grappled with him from the front. The ice on her claws and on her knee pads allowed her to tear into him. She tried to ignore the green that now covered her claws. She and Alan fought side by side keeping Plasmius on his toes and unable to use his more significant powers. 

Plasmius blasted Selina back and fired another blast at Alan. Selina shrugged the blast off with her armor, but cried out as she watched her son fall. A metallic cylinder flew through the air having been knocked from Alan’s grasp by the Plasmius. Selina caught the cylinder out of the air, a brief glance told her it was some kind of mechanical… thermos? 

“Mom! Use it!” Alan’s desperate cry snapped her back to reality even as Plasmius slammed into her son. Selina had not mourned her son for the past fourteen years for him to get hurt on her watch. It only took a moment for her to figure out the “ON” switch for the thermos and she aimed it at the man attacking her son. With a scream of rage and a flash of light he was sucked into the thermos and Selina was left alone with her son. She immediately fell to her knees at his side where she could see he was holding a burn at his side. 

“Alan? Or do you prefer Daniel?” She asked, trying to keep her voice soft and gentle. 

“Uh, Danny actually.” He said with a smile that could have been from her own high school yearbook. “Though, Alan… might not be so bad, eventually.” 

“Ok, Danny, are you ok? Do we need to get to a hospital?” 

“No!” His shout startled her, but she didn’t let herself pull back from his side. “I can’t go to a hospital, they’ll turn me in, they’ll tear me apart.” 

His voice fell away in a broken whine and she immediately curled her body around his, holding him tight. He started to shiver against her and she could feel sobs start to rack his too tiny body. 

“That will never happen again, do you hear me? You were taken from me when you were a baby and I thought you were dead. But you managed to find me, you’re so smart, so clever, you found me and I’m here now and I-”

Her words cut off as a green mist began to again swirl around her. Danny looked at her with sad eyes. 

“I’m exhausted. I can’t maintain the connection anymore.” He hesitated, looking away from her for a moment, before he looked back at her with an earnestness that startled her. “Are you really my mom? My birth mom?” 

“I am.” Selina spoke with more confidence than truth, but she didn’t care about truth, or DNA checks or anything the Bat would insist on. She felt it in her heart. This was her baby. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” The mist was swirling around her faster and faster, she did everything she could to stay focused on Danny’s face. “I’ll find you. I promise you, I’ll find you!” 

The green mist filled her vision and for just a moment she could feel skinny arms wrap tightly around her before the sensation faded along with the mist. Far too soon she was back on a rooftop in Gotham, breathing in the smog, still holding a thermos filled with someone who had threatened to disembowel her son. Selina threw her head back and howled her grief and rage at the sky that Danny wasn’t here any longer. She pulled the cowl of her costume off her head so she could dash tears from her eyes. 

“Selina? What happened?” Bruce’s gruff voice made her whirl around and he almost got a face full of ice covered claws. 

“Take me to the cave.” She stood on slightly shaky legs, clutching Danny’s enemy to her chest. 

“Catwoman, you’re not acting like yourself.” He tried to stonewall her, but she was not having it. Danny was out there, exhausted, injured and was being abused by the people who should have loved him. 

“Take me to the cave Bruce!” Selina snapped at him, already moving towards where he had parked the Batmobile. “And get your little listeners on the line, our son is out there, alive but in an abusive situation and I won’t allow him to get hurt any more.” 

The ride back to the Batcave was spent with Bruce mostly in a paranoid and sullen silence. She didn’t care. She just didn’t care. She loved Bruce, he was one of the most important people in her life, but their son, the baby they had made together, was even more important to her. Instead she spent the ride filling in Oracle with everything she knew. 

“His name is Danny, short for Daniel. His adoptive parents are named Jack and Maddie. They own a lab. A lab they held my son prisoner in.” Her voice broke and Batman almost drove off the road. Selina took a moment to gather herself, fiddling idly with the bracelet Danny had given her to keep her safe. Surprisingly it was still with her and the icy armor she was wearing wasn’t melting at all. The cold from the armor didn’t even feel uncomfortable. “He has wavy black hair, Bruce’s eyes, and my jaw. He’s about 5’3”, interested in NASA.” She leaned over to grab Bruce’s arm. “He’s too skinny, our kitten is too skinny.” 

The Batmobile thundered into the Batcave where to Bruce’s surprise most of the rest of his kids were waiting. Alan’s siblings in another life. The knowing look they sent her made her think that Oracle must have been keeping the rest of them updated as she spoke. Red Robin was typing away at the Batcomputer while Robin leaned over his shoulder looking at the screen. Signal was probably still in bed. The two Batgirls, Black Bat and Spoiler leaned casually against each other nearby.  Selina was surprised Nightwing wasn’t here. He, Red Hood and Oracle were the only ones who had really known that Alan had existed, much less that he had been taken from her and Bruce. 

Selina struggled with the armor Danny had made for her for a few minutes while Red Robin and Oracle searched for anyone who matched the description she had given in their systems. Eventually Cass and Steph joined her to help her shed the armor. They were both curious about it even as they helped her out of it. They, like her, ignored Bruce trying to integrate her about what she went through and check her for known mind control elements. It’s Cassandra who notices the bracelet on her wrist, something she would normally not be caught dead in. She examines it then lifts her eyebrows in surprise. She twists Selina’s wrist so she can see the bracelet where a logo is placed. 

“Fenton… Works. Fentonworks. Fentonworks!” Selina cheers as she reads the name out loud. Surely that could help them find Danny. “Search Fentonworks!”

There is a flurry of typing after her announcement both from Red Robin and from Oracle over the coms. It only takes a few more minutes of keys clacking, the noise grating against her already frayed nerves for Tim to cheer. She is at his side in a moment, looking at a hideously designed website for Fentonworks. Were these people incapable of actual aesthetically pleasing designs? The heavily modulated voice of Oracle began reading out information and coordinates of a city called Amity Park. 

They were getting more and more information, images flying across the screen of the Batcomputer. The Drs. Fenton. Their research and experiments on Ecto-entities. Their children, one biological Jasmine Fenton, one adopted true age and name unknown, renamed as Daniel Fenton. His social media was pulled up, where it was clear he went by Danny, his close friends Samantha and Tucker. More and more information, but Selina was staring at the picture of Danny like a man in a desert staring at an oasis. That was her boy. That was her son. He had called her for help, she had told him, promised him that she would find him again and she had. 

Suddenly the screen went dark. From the cries of anger and annoyance from the two boys it was clear it was not because of them. She looked over and saw Bruce near the power button for the screen, his cowl pulled back so she could see the suspicion in his eyes. 

“Selina, you’re not acting like yourself.” He said slowly, calmly. As if he were talking to a wild animal. “I think it would be best if you lied down, and I can call Martian Manhunter to check your mind. Our son vanished fourteen years ago. Survival rates for kidnapped children are miniscule for that length of time. Also our son couldn’t be a meta, neither of us have the meta gene. This person is manipulating your emotions. Probably to extract information from you.” 

Selina couldn’t help a sneer crossing her face. She regretted taking off her ice claws and armor. She would like to see how well the new attachments fared against the armor Batman wore. 

“You can be a paranoid bastard all you want. I’m taking one of your planes to Amity Park tonight.” 

Bruce tapped at something on his wrist computer. Her sneer curled up into a snarl, presumably he had just locked the planes. How dare he treat her like one of his Robins that he could just ground whenever he wanted to. Especially when their son was trapped in another state, injured and exhausted. 

“No.” Bruce’s curt answer cut into Selina’s already thin patience. She was about to start screaming when another voice cut in. 

“It may not be up to your decision any more, father.” Robin said, looking closely at his own wrist computer. “It looks like Richard rendezvoused with Todd at the secondary Batplane immediately after finding out about this person. As soon as they had coordinates they took off.” 

Bruce turned the monitor back on to reveal one of the locator beacons from one of the other Batplanes already leaving Gotham airspace. 

“Oracle. Shut the plane down remotely.” 

There is a long moment of silence of the coms before Oracle hesitantly rejoins the conversation. 

“I’m not going to do that.” Bruce looks like he wants to angrily reply but he is cut off as Barbara continues. “Catwoman knows enough about the risks of mind control to know when she’s being influenced. If there’s even a chance that there’s a child trapped in an abusive situation like she described, blood relative or not, meta or not, that child deserves to be freed from that situation. Red Hood and Nightwing are capable. They can retrieve the boy on their own.” 

Jason’s own modulated voice came through the coms next. 

“Don’t worry B, I’m here to restrain Dickiebird’s murderous impulses. We’re going to rescue our little brother, we’ll bring him home, Selina.” 

Selina walked up to the computer and pressed the com button there. 

“Be careful boys. His adoptive parents aren’t good people.” She hesitates, the desire so strong to tell them to make the Fentons pay, in blood if necessary. But she can’t do that. She can’t ask them to go against their code for her. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” 

“Understood, Selina.” Dick’s voice came through next. There was none of his usual cheer in his voice. “We’re switching to stealth mode now that we’re away from Gotham. We’ll be radio silent until either we have him safe and secure or something goes badly.”

Red Robin responds to the sign off. Selina can’t hear any more. She paces. Alfred convinces her to change into her civilian attire. She even showers on his recommendation. Then she’s back pacing the floor of the Batcave, her hair still damp. Red Robin eventually retires for some much needed sleep. Cassandra and Stephanie fall asleep cuddled together in their civies in the cave. Bruce the miserable, paranoid bastard just watches her. Every turn of her pacing she has to look at him. He’s still glaring at her, still thinking she’s been brainwashed or some such nonsense. 

Hours pass. 

Long hours of pacing. Long hours of flight over the midwest towards Amity Park. Long hours where Danny is hopefully safe and resting from his fight with Plasmius. Long hours where she could only pace and hold the thermos that held Danny’s enemy. The man who wanted to cut her baby open. 

The passing hours strained every last iota of her self restraint. She wanted to slap Bruce and scream at him for his pigheadedness. She wanted to let Plasmius free and shred him to pieces under her claws. She wanted to pull up the flight data for the Batplane and track it across the country, even though that would be useless while it was in stealth mode. 

Finally, just have dawn had broken, when Selina herself was starting to feel a little broken there came a crackle on the coms before a voice joined them. 

“Nightwing to Batcave, come in Batcave.” Dick’s voice came in loud and clear, startling both of the Batgirls awake. Selina immediately dashed to the computer, pressing the com button herself. 

“We can hear you, Nightwing. Do you have him?” Selina couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice even if she tried. 

“Red Hood and I recovered one Daniel James Fenton, born Alan Thomas Kyle.” Selina could have jumped for joy, even as she wanted to laugh at his subtle dig at Bruce. The actual last name on Alan’s original birth certificate was Wayne. “We’ve also managed to recover his adopted sister, Jasmine, he wouldn’t leave Amity Park without her.” 

Selina could feel the tension from the night draining out of her and she collapsed into the computer chair in front of the Bat computer. Bruce stepped up to the consol next. 

“What of their parents?” He growled the question out. There was another long silence. Far longer than previous silences before Red Hood’s modulated voice came through the comms. 

“They’ll live.” A brief pause then, “Though I did burn down their house. Both of the children insisted and I needed to destroy something after everything we saw.” 

“They’ve been in a rough place for who even knows how many years. We’re going to bring the Batplane into the cave, have Agent A on stand-by.” Dick also hesitated for a moment. “Selina, we’re bringing him home.” 

Selina could almost sob in relief. 

This was not my intention to write something this long. I just hope you enjoy. If you like my writing, hang around! I’m going to be sharing some fully original pieces at the end of the month. 

@memecow1, @andaspoonfulofangst-whoops , @colornotes23, @theamazingfox , @spectralstardustandphantomnights , @alcorbearson , @talafairy , @hnymp , @ironicvixen , @dangnoodles, @satoshy12 , @suppengott, @samgirl98 , @skulld3mort-1fan , 

That’s a lot of tags. Hopefully this works. And don’t forget to share!

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕺𝖚𝖗 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉: 𝕷𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖘’ 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙” ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2, 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 ℑ𝔫 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔢

Post-canon Lord Astarion x Cordehlia | E | 3K

🎨 by @marimosalad Crowdehlia Cordehlia’s co-creator

Summary: In the comfort of his arcane tower, Gale reveals the details of the mission for the Ascendant and his Raven, and grants them magical items to aid their quest. Left to their own devices, Astarion and Cordehlia do what they do best, finally alone…

CW: Banter, annoyed Tara, homebrew items (except the necklace really does exist, Act 3!), Quickie smut, bed creaking smut, desperate Astarion and Consort just as down bad for him. And poor Gale.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 1 for “Our Blood is Thicker,” OG series

A loud, open-mouth scoff was Astarion’s reply to Gale’s dramatics. “I swear to the gods this had better be worth my time, or I’ll walk my way back to the necropolis. At least it’s pleasant there… and quiet,” he gave that annoyed smirk.

That impudent grin earned him a shove in his ribs from his love. “You’re not going anywhere without me, and I’m helping Gale,” Cordehlia’s tone was meant to provoke, her eyes meaning to goad him into obedience.

Irritated, Astarion narrowed his eyes, a silent dare, provoking her to hold to her threat. “Fine,” he huffed, relenting. “But only because I won’t let you out of my sight. Gods know what sort of trouble you’d end up in without me.”

Astarion extended a single finger to trace her jaw, one that Cordehlia snapped at with a sharp turn of her head.

“Ahh, ancient love,” Gale bit, sarcasm darkening the good natured tone he usually used. He leaned back in his chair, when suddenly, something fluffy and brown swooped into the open space of his lap before he could even cross his ankle over his knee.

Astarion fairly shrieked, fangs bared and glinting in the firelight of the study. “Mangy beast,” he huffed as he tried to catch his breath.

The cat turned her head, yellow slitted eyes roaming over their guests. “I hear you can view yourself in the mirror now, vampire, if your looking for the real mangy beast in this room…”

Two snorts came in reply, Cordehlia and Gale equally blushing and giggling and trying to hide their reactions behind their palms. “Tara, play nice with the other creatures,” Gale chided her, even as he rewarded her sass with a hearty scratch under her chin. “That one can change into a rather large bat and still drain you dry.” Gale nodded towards the Ascendant.

But Tara only laughed. “Only if he could catch me,” she fired back, fanning her own set of wings.

“Why, you…” Astarion bristled in his place beside Cordehlia’s seat, fangs bared, hissing and spitting like a tomcat himself.

Cordhelia smiled slightly. “Sadly, you’d have to content yourself with my one and only form, Tara, but if you recall, you enjoyed my fingers rubbing your belly.”

“I do remember, my lady,” the tressym purred delightedly, curling on her master’s lap to face her. “But Master Dekarios has just the solution to that little issue you mentioned about your form.”

“Tara, that was my big surprise,” Gale half scolded, half laughed as he tapped his finger on that tiny pink nose. A twinkle in his hazel eyes, and Gale’s hand glowed, summoning a pretty little black box, opening to reveal a stunning necklace, a little circlet of gold with a bright blue stone in the center. “This is the Corvid Token, a little bauble that will grant you the polymorph of a Dire Raven.” He grinned widely, watching as Cordehia’s pale face lit up in joy. “And I can think of no better home than around the neck of the Lady Corvus, the Ascendant’s Raven.”

Astarion cleared his throat, a little high-pitched and whiny. “I’m sure my Bride will put it to good use in my service,” he crowed, hand splayed on his chest.

Cordehlia threw him a self-righteous smirk, “Oh Gale, it’s perfect.” She turned her bright scarlet eyes on their friend, relishing the bristle of annoyance that flowed from her mate. “It’s been so long since I received anything so powerful and elegant all at once…”

“Now you’re just being mean and petty,” Astarion huffed under his breath, folding his arms and sulking.

“Don’t you fret, dear Ascendant,” the wizard chuckled, petting his purring pet as she nestled in his lap and glared daggers at the vampire. “I have a gift for you too. I wouldn’t send my dearest sanguine-sated companions into the proverbial lion’s den without some magical items of arcane significance.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s giving us weapons to help us in our…”

“Yes, I get it. Thank you, dearest treasure,” he interrupted, clipped and biting as he glared at them both.

A wry smile on his face, and Gale’s hands glowed blue. The light settled on Astarions crown, two matching prongs of cambion horns materializing from the light. “What in the hells,” the vampire snarled, spine going ramrod straight before it bent under the new weight. The magic gone, and Astarion gingerly felt along their bumped and curled edges. “Well, fuck, these are heavy. I’m used to you giving me a headache, Gale, but I didn’t realize you would manifest it quite so literally….”

Cordehlia gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

“Care to explain why I have devil horns, wizard?” He gave a disgruntled frown, his hands and arms gesticulating to the sudden monstrosity on his perfect hair.

“I kind of like them,” Cordehlia purred, grabbing his hand to pull him lower.

“You, shut it,” he smirked, his annoyance doubling by the moment.

Gale sat there patting his own chin, making faces and running his hand through his hair. As if he looked at his reflection.

“Hells, it’s not some invisible astral projection, is it?” Astarion somehow sounded even more peeved.

And Gale finally stood, Tara’s padded feet landing silently on the red carpet as she trundled away. “Where you are going tomorrow, you will need good disguises, and I will need to see your every move.” He waved to the horns. “Remember Wyll’s eye? The Sending Stone in the cuticle of your horns will allow me to see and communicate with you directly, oh mighty Ascendant.”

Those crimson eyes glared in ire. “So you’re keeping tabs on me? Checking your own face in the way you look from this… rack… on my head. I do so enjoy a good rack...”

Gale smirked, folding his arms. “I’m going to take the high road on this one and ignore your innuendo.”

Astarion sucked his teeth, “Really? I mean I knew you were a little fun, Gale, but no fun whatsoever? Gotten even more boring as a teacher or whatever in your quaint little wizard school, it seems.” He settled on the arm of Cordehlia’s chair, one arm wrapped around her back, the other teasing a finger down her front to trail in the valley of her chest. “I suppose, if the lewd humor is off the table, you won’t mind if I engage in some lewd behavior…”

Gale covered his eyes, “Hells, I can see everything you see, Astarion, including Cordehlia’s… ahem… décolletage. This was a mistake trusting you with a Seeing Stone imbued disguise…”

Tara purred a laugh from her cushion. “It’s not too late to just swap the roles… Make the preening male the small, winged creature and give the female the arcane treasure.” Her fluffy tail twitched. “She smells trustworthy.”

Cordhelia beamed.

Astarion rolled those red eyes so far back, they could have stuck. “Just because I can take wild form, a most ferocious bat, mind you,” he commented pointedly at the tressym, “it doesn’t mean that I am amenable to such a plan. I am… Ascendant… after all.”

A warm laugh, and Gale leaned forward. “Tara, play nice with our guests. We don’t get many. Even if your observations are, as always, astute.” The wizard lost that smile as he regarded his friends. “I realize you look and feel ridiculous and perhaps woefully unprepared. Allow me to illuminate you.” He leaned back in his seat once more, steepling his fingers as his elbows rested on the arms. “Are you familiar with the coven of vampires here, Astarion?”

His jaw clenched, his hand stiffened on Cordehlia’s shoulder. “Lord Malicus and I have... brushed elbows in the past, though never in any way that would leave me… unwilling to face him, shall we say,” his voice was tight, words dancing around the scars of his past even amongst closest of friends.

Gale gave a sigh of relief. “That is good, I thought I had been thorough in what research I could to see how often you might have crossed paths before, and while I consider myself to be exhaustive, vampires unsurprisingly do not maintain accurate records.“

“Yes, being creatures of the night will do that to you,“ Astarion said. “An innate tendency for secrecy is a must when one is a fearsome monster….” He leered down at Cordehlia, rakish and smirking to produce the desired effect. She was always up for a good fang-bearing leer.

But all she did was lean forward in her seat opposite Gale. “So these vampires took something from you? Something dangerous and powerful?”

The serious professor somehow looked suddenly more solemn than usual. “Yes, by Elminster’s beard. An item I had my sights set on for the studies at the academy. A most singular text of arcane knowledge and power. They nabbed it before I could retrieve it, holding it in their crypt beneath Malicus’ tower.”

Astarion had busied himself by feeling the ridged curves of his left horn, then he snapped to attention. “Another powerful… text? You are having us risk everything for… a book?”

“Was the Codex just a book? The Annals of Karsus? How about your precious Necromancy of Thay, hmm?” Gale tensed, those wrinkles forming between his hazel eyes.

Astarion glared, “Point taken. So your grand plan to purloin this book for you requires me to have horns and my love to be a bird?” He arched his brow, feigning a greater interest in his nail beds as he delicately fanned his fingers.

“Indeed, mighty Ascendant. You’ll use your status to gain entry to his gathering for Liars’ Night, a grand soirée of hedonism and blood. By all appearances, you’ll be alone, just a harmless corvid familiar resting on your shoulder…” his bright eyes danced with mischief as he skimmed them over Cordehlia’s playful grin.

“Well, all my years being Lady Corvus, the Raven, the Bone Picker and now,” she giggled low in her chest, “I finally get to test my wings at it for real.”

Gale guffaws, slapping his knee. “I know, I know, you’ll be the delightful Lady Crowdehlia!”

Astarion audibly wretched. “Oh Gale, even for your brand of humor that was… horrible,” he chided, tones of utter disgust in his purring voice.

Gale laughed heartily, “Why doesn’t my lady try her new form. I’m sure Tara would love to teach you flying if it’s a struggle. If you don’t take to it like a fish to water.” The way he made himself laugh only earned him a matching giggle from Cordehlia and a scathing eye roll and sneer from the Ascendant. A touch of her pendant, a burst of blue magic, and in place of a vampiric beauty in his chair there was a stunning black Dire Raven, glossy black feathers and shining beak and everything.

Astarion’s eyes were saucers, staring down at the massive black bird. Her heartbeat was the same, their tethered souls and minds still intact. “Oh, fuck yeah!” he heard her exclaim as the bird hopped around on the velveteen seat. Sleek black wings extended and she was off, flapping and cawing around Gale’s tower.

Heart racing in dread, Astarion jumped to his feet and tried to grab for her. What if she fell… what if she couldn’t land… what if that mangy beast forgot herself and decided it was supper time?

“Godsdammit Gale, she could get hurt,” he snarled, rounding on the wizard with red eyes blazing in misdirected rage.

But the bird… or Cordehlia… or whatever… just swooped deftly to land on the tip of his dark horn. “Relax, my love. It’s easy and… I haven’t had this much fun since we killed our way out of the Goblin Camp back in the day,” she laughed, ruffling her feathers and folding her wings.

The Ascendant looked down his nose at Gale, that wizard’s arrogant grin pissing the shit out of him for one reason or another, he wasn’t sure yet why. “Alright, Gale,” he spat the name with playful vitriol, “so as the devil in disguise and his crow familiar… we get into this Liars’ Night ball, we find the vault, break in, get your… ugh… book, and return it to you without them suspecting a thing?”

“Yup, pretty much!” Gale clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll spare you the details, Astarion. They were never your thing anyway. I’ll give you lots of backs to stab and necks to bite and treasure to loot.” Gale’s smirk widened at his friends. “Just do not abuse the power of that Sending Stone in your horns. You can conjure or dismiss it at will like Cordehlia’s form, so please,” he grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose, “dismiss the horns before you get… horny.”

“Tch,” Astarion pouted, “you’re no fun, but fine.”

A swirl of magic and both vampires dismissed their gifted forms.

Gale stood. “Tara will show you to your room for tonight. Behave yourselves, please. I don’t have the same resources as you to clean up after your… activities, oh mighty Ascendant,” he laughs, a bit hollow and honest as he watches them walk down the hall after his tressym.

“I missed this…” Astarion whispered into Cordehlia’s mind as they followed Tara up some curved staircase to a spacious landing. “The thrill of adventure with you, the risk of being… caught.” His hand wandered slowly from her lower back to grip her ass deliciously.

Tara sat at the entrance to a small curved door in the hall. “Your accommodations, courtesy of the Master. Don’t make a mess,” she sighed, flicking her tail as she watched them disappear inside.

Cordehlia entered the small bedchamber, setting her bag of holding down and removing her new precious necklace. “Astarion, do you think—”

His kiss of fangs silenced her, hands gripping and turning her by the shoulders as he covered her mouth. Lips worked furiously, tongue demanding entrance to taste her, to tangle with her own. And Cordhelia melted into his arms, her thoughts scattered to the wind as they did the moment she tasted him.

“I need you,” he whispered into her mind. “Keep it quick and quiet and the wizard will be none the wiser.” His skilled fingers made quick work of her jerkin and top, palming and massaging her breasts the second they were freed. A low growl in the back of his throat, and he backed her blindly to the edge of the small bed, laughing as she tumbled unceremoniously into it.

Arms around his neck, she pulled him clumsily down on top, the bed making a loud thump as their undead bodies landed. Their crimson eyes locked together, waiting and panting and listening if they had been caught. After several long seconds of their pointed ears twitching only to hear the settling of Gale’s tower, they gave sighs of relief.

“Good,” Astarion whispered as he crushed her into the bed, lips already working furiously in another kiss. “I’m too worked up to stop, even if we were found out.” His chuckle was deep-bellied and rumbling, a constant low growl as Cordehlia pulled him into her with equal need. Her hips rolled under him, hands pulling on the curve of his ass to press his fine leather-clad erection against her mound.

His name tumbled from her lips, felt more than heard against his all-consuming lips. She bucked her hips, lifting them to frantically drag them to her ankles. “My love, please,” she moaned in her deep and musical voice. Once she kicked off her shoes and freed herself, a sigh and a smile slipped from her. The relief of his clothed cock on her bare folds brought tears to her eyes.

She rocked her hips, desperate for more… more friction, more him. “I’ve been aching since the necropolis,” Cordehlia rasped, her fangs clicking against his as her kiss grew sloppy and desperate.

“I know,” he taunted, a cheeky, arrogant chuckle as he slipped his fingers inside her to touch those perfect spots. “I could smell you. I always… smell you,” he growled, his body making the small wooden bed start to creak as he thrust against her harder. “Hells,” he grumbled, “quick and quiet and…” he quickly freed his cock from his trousers, sheathing it in that familiar tight warmth of his love, “don’t break the bed.”

Cordehlia clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the whimper that tore through her from cunt to crown. His hips rolled, dragging deliciously in her walls, making her unbearably and instantly wet for him. Her eyes went wide, staring up at his conceited smirk, scarlet eyes glaring her warning.

He rocked faster, the small wooden frame of the bed creaking, its joints protesting as Astarion lowered himself, his full weight crushing her into the poor feather mattress. His lips replaced her hand to gag and swallow her noises, his tongue tangling with her to keep her quiet. One hand gripped into the back of her head, weaving and snagging in her red-orange hair. Smirking, he knew just how to unravel her, his free hand reaching to pull her by her ass against his hips, letting his cock grind on her clit. And then, his knee— his cursed, blessed knee—pressed her open, splaying her wider to make sure he dragged his cock against her inner nerves with every rapid thrust.

An elven curse slipped past her lips, the bed complaining louder as he drew near his climax. His body moved with feral need, lost was all the care and caution. Cordehlia’s hand slapped behind her pushing the headboard back to tighten the creaking piece of shit under them. “Hells… quick and quiet, huh?” she mocked, her words scratched in her throat as she dangled on the edge of her own pleasure-wave.

“He should just be thankful I don’t leave you a wet… and bloody mess… all over his guestroom,” he snickered, his voice fading into pants and groans until he felt her squeeze him. Her walls clamped around him, her back arching off the poor bed, legs wrapped snug around his waist. “Cordehlia,” he hissed. He panted her name once more, those four sweet syllables breaking in his throat as he came. His fingers clawed into her neck and ass, his breathing ragged and hot in her ear as he emptied inside her. That wetness that seeped from her cunt poured from her as she came around him again, sweet walls fluttering in rapid uneven pulses.

Their foreheads pressed together, their sweaty damp skin sticking as they breathed and laughed and shushed each other.

A soft knock at the door made them jump out of their undead skin. “Breakfast first thing in the morning,” Gale’s voice called through the door. Then, there was a slight pause. “And there are fresh bed linens in the dresser against the wall…”

[psychotic-nonsense]

|| >

There's not much Steve remembers.

There's a group of people walking through the woods, some older, some teens. He's amongst them. The sky is too dark and the trees are too dead. His hands are tight, holding something close. There's an air of panic, stress, hurry, caution. A mistake was made, and they need to escape.

Then instincts flare and the trees descend on them. Sharp rushes of wind, the shrill shrieking of something otherworldly. There's teeth and sharp whips and screaming and gunshots.

Then the swirling mass parts and the shrieks turn human, and Steve remembers the visceral fear of seeing the mass separate. One half rises, carrying a flailing, manic figure, and no no no Robin please no not Robin please no me take me instead you bastards not Robin please no Robin Robin-

Then the other half descends, whips circle his wrists, and the ground falls beneath him. There's screaming behind and before him as the earth fades away, and it's a cruel parallel, floating when all he wants to do is sink.

Robin's thrashing, Steve's thrashing. Their weapons have no use here, where teeth and whips maul them. Amid the pain, all Steve can do is plead to Robin, to forgive, to hope, to fight.

Robin finds the weak spot first. A quick succession of blind swings, a fierce thrash of flailing limbs. The bats scare, release her. But they're too high. Steve feels his throat go coarse as he watches Robin crash into the dead forest below, unable to differentiate the snapping between bark and bone.

Steve finds it in him to copy the act, do the same. And somehow, it works. Somehow, he's weightless.

There's a fierce pressure and the first snap he remembers feeling both on and within his skin-

And Steve wakes up.

It's not sudden, it's gradual. He feels the pains within him slowly throb to life, rousing him from sleep like an anchor rising from the sea. His left hand feels thick, and there's a burning poker laying across his forehead. His jaw feels wrong, and his eye stings and throbs.

His other senses slowly begin to return as well. He's laying down, his head tilted to his left, a bit cramped in the space as something presses around his shoulders. The material he's on isn't very comfortable either, some parts stabbing into his back, and there's a crinkling sound every time he breathes. He hears the faint rippling of water, and somewhere out there, it rushes fast and hard.

It's hell to even think of doing it, but as Steve returns to reality, his instincts rise to the surface, and he knows he has to get up soon. So he opens his eyes. He fights the involuntary tears, wincing as the stinging worsens, then wincing further when his face crumbles in the looping pain.

Finally, he can see a little. Where he is, it's thankfully pretty dark, with only a faint golden glow illuminating the area around him. His eyes strain to see through the darkness past the range of the light-

And then Steve notices where he is. A boathouse. The boathouse. The same one from a night that feels like a lifetime ago, rather than a few weeks. The start of their worst journey, the beginning of a friendship that would grow just to rot into a sour mess of guilt and loneliness.

He's laying within the same boat too...

His eyes focus on some motion across from him. A table covered in a lump of tarps and ratty cloths, and atop it sleeps a figure. Her face is scrunched up in pain, a patch of bloody fabric covering her cheek. One leg has been removed of all clothes, the ankle wrapped and foot elevated. Steve knows her, and instinct briefly overpowers everything else.

"Robs?-" Steve cracks out, his voice sore and rough. His body tries to rise, moving habitually, and he barely rises onto his elbows before the world pounces on him again. It's so strong and he's so weak that he can't move more than the closing of his eyes and the falling of his chin to his chest, can't make a sound louder than a whimper.

Suddenly there's a noise, there's movement beside him. The light glows just a tough brighter, and there's a base warmth suddenly pulsing through his chest.

It's a person, shushing him. Their hand is resting softly on his back, simultaneously supporting him and urging him down.

"Please, stay. It is better for you to rest."

The voice speaks softer than Steve can remember, but he still knows it. It's monotone, sounds ghostly, faint, quiet in a way that has nothing to do with volume, but it's still familiar. Still brings the memories around Steve right into the present, takes him back to that corpse, makes the presence around him feel more melancholic than scary.

Which is funnily enough, even more terrifying.

Steve can't move, can't pull his sight up to face what can't be reality.

"Apologies for the location. We cannot stray too far from the Gates."

The monotone changes to sound almost apologetic, more real, more like what Steve has been craving. It's what finally makes him cave, to turn his eyes to face the impossible.

Who he sees, what he sees, both crushes and rises his hope. Because past everything before him - the inhuman glow, the calm, plain expression - he finds exactly what he's been fighting for.

"Eddie...?" Steve pleads.

The blank face falls, just slightly. Like it's guilty.

"I'm sorry. No. Not quite."

(cleaner version below)

[dearestro]

Knight in Plaid Boxers

Summary: James will always be there to save you from danger...big or small.

Warnings: Innuendos and crude language.

Wilson's Pov

I woke up upon hearing a scream.

"James, help!" Recognizing my wife's voice and the empty space next to me, I quickly got up, fearing the worse.

"Shit, shit! Where is it?" I whispered to myself as I searched through the closet looking for the baseball bat she had insisted on keeping 'just in case'. Finally finding it, I armed myself and ran out to the kitchen screaming. Not the smartest idea, but continuing to hear my wife's screams of fear I only had one thought: to scare the intruder. I reached the kitchen and swung blindly, still screaming and shouting only to be met with my wife's voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" I opened my eyes to see her standing on the counter, totally unharmed.

"I-I heard you screaming? I thought- I thought you were being hurt?" I asked as I tried to catch my breath, very confused with the situation. She looked at me like I was insane.

"Yeah, because of the spider!" She pointed to the floor. My eyes followed her finger to see the remains of a mug and a spider crawling around. My hands fell to my side, and I dropped the bat in disbelief.

"What?" I looked at her incredulously.

"Babe, kill the freaking spider!" She continued to point before shrieking when it started towards her. I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed before carefully kneeling beside the broken glass and picking it up.

“It’s only a daddy long leg. You know, I don’t think they’re even classified as spiders.” I picked it up and laughed, seeing how small it was. I started to walk closer to her to show her, but she screamed and pushed her back against the cupboard.

“James Evan Wilson! So help me! If you come any closer I-I…I’ll withhold sex for a month!” I stopped and frowned at her threat before looking back at the ‘spider’ struggling in my fingers.

“Sorry buddy. You heard the lady. It’s either you or me, and well…I’m sure there’s plenty of lady spiders outside.” I opened the sliding glass door and threw him out before coming back to my wife’s aide. “Will you come down now? As much as I enjoy the view, I don’t want you to get hurt.” I approached her as she nodded. I was careful to avoid the broken shards of glass on the floor.

Once I got to her side, I picked her up bridal style.

“My beautiful damsel in distress.” I rolled my eyes and kissed her cheek, and she snuggled closer.

“My handsome knight in plaid boxers.” She laid her hand on my cheek and stroked her thumb on my under eye. I smiled at her. She’s a handful, but she’s mine.

“You know usually the hero gets a reward for saving the princess…” I smirked at her.

“And what…reward…do you have in mind?” Her eyebrow raised even though she clearly knew what I had in mind. I kissed her as I took her out of the kitchen before wiggling my eyebrows at her suggestively. She laughed. "What about the broken mug?" I shrugged.

"We'll deal with it tomorrow."

"What if Sara hurts herself?" We entered the bedroom.

"She's a cat, I'm sure she'll be fine." I said sarcastically while rolling my eyes, I could tell her worry was just a way of teasing me. I set her on her side of the bed before going over to my own. She smirked up at me.

"Alright, if you insist." She feigned disinterest. I smiled before jumping onto the bed and attacking her neck and face with my lips. We continued making out for a little as things got more heated until Sara jumped up onto the bed and tried to wiggle between us. Suddenly, she pulled back. I tried to capture her lips again, but she put her hand on my chest. "As much as I love you and enjoy this babe, I'm not doing 'it' in front of the cat." I frowned, looking at the cat, who was now curled up on the bed sleeping.

"I can kick her out." I said a little too desperately. She shook her head.

"It’s like two in the morning. You have to get up for work tomorrow, sweetheart." She said before leaning over and kissing me. "Goodnight. I love you." And with that, she laid down and went to bed. I groaned and glared at Sara.

"Damn cat." I mumbled before laying down and turning to my side. I was still...calming down when I felt an arm wrap around me. I smiled.

This was nice, too.

Author's Note: I'm working on the requests! This was just a small/easy idea I had in my notes that I thought I could publish as a filler.

Also, is this any good, or is it like weird? idk I'm always worried when I write in his pov and the entire thing is in it.

P.S.

When writing this, I imagined the mug to be one that House got them for their wedding that just has his face on it. I don't know. OH! And when he ran out with the bat, he was in his McGill sweatshirt and plaid boxers with white socks. Again, just the image I had when writing, lol.