#Diana Fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elixirina · 8 days ago

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Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

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wolffin44 · 10 months ago

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Interesting concept.

Only a Woman

The daughter of Queen Hippolyta, Diana is raised on the hidden island of Themyscira, home to the Amazons, women warriors created by the Olympian gods to protect mankind.

Haunted by the nightmares about Ares and accusing him to be responsible for the war in the world of Men, the naive princess risks her own life and leaves the island to locate and stop Ares for good, believing the world out there needs to be saved and that, only love can truly save the world. Not to forget, she is a full-fledged demigod unaware of her full potential.

Separated from his family as an infant by the Cult of Kosmos because of his blood, he was raised and tortured by the Cult, forced to fight or die.

He's grown up now. A demigod, a warrior. Yet, behind this heroism is an aching pain from a lifetime of suffering. The humanity in Deimos has died long ago. What remains is a weapon. A glorious deadly weapon that even the cult cannot control it all the time.

By a twist of fate, these two demigods, Deimos and Diana's ways cross one another. Where will the fate's hand guide them?

Read this work on Archive of Our Own: ⬇️

Rating : Mature

Category : F/M

Relationship : Deimos!Alexios / Diana of Themyscira

Warnings : none

Chapters : 9/?

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webtrinsic1122 · 2 months ago

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If I was Wonder Woman I’d tell no one about the Invisible Jet, fake like I’m flying myself while inside it, so when another flying person tries to attack me by tackling or physically hitting me, they run straight into the side of the Jet first.

#fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #wonder woman #dc #dcu #diana prince

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months ago

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Not-So-Common-Sense (Part 22)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

“Ghosts are a sovran people, more than that we’re a sovereign nation,” Hyena boomed, speaking over the assembly as he demanded everyone stop whispering and pay attention to him. He glared at the assembled leaders as he transformed in sparks and flashes, hair turning white and muzzle transforming into a snarling skull until he was fully ghost. “And I am done listening to all of this bullshit, so enough debating. Now explain to the Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms why you have allowed these people to violate my people’s rights and hold me captive.” Danny-No Phantom demanded.

He was glad he didn’t have a heart to be pounding in his chest as with a wave of his hand he created a throne of ice and sat down in it. He pushed his mask up and as it dissolved a circlet of shimmering ice formed around his brow. It wasn’t the official crown, he had yet to take the crown of flame but it was just a bit of showmanship to add to the effect. He needed these people to take him seriously after all. Jason stepped up to stand beside him, and to Danny’s surprise Deadman came down to take the other side, leaving Ellie to perch on the back of his makeshift throne, draping herself comfortably there. Danny settled himself more comfortably and confidently in his chair, and in his new role because whether he was ready or not it was time to act and he had the people who mattered behind him without question.

“Explain to me why we should not go to war.” Danny demanded in a terrifying shadow of his ghostly wail.

“What, no, the ghosts don’t have any sort of leader or structure. They’re completely disorganized,” Agent W insisted.

“That’s not true,” Deadman said, shaking his head. “Ghosts follow the strong and have always been a monarchy. We haven’t had an active king in centuries, since the last one went mad but it is well known that, when he is ready to, Phantom will be able to claim the throne. He is not lying about his position in the Infinite Realms and many spirits will follow him to war should he command it.”

“Including you?” Batman asked in a tone of mild curiosity that wasn’t fooling anyone that actually knew him.

“I recognize Phantom’s authority. The only reason I didn’t bow and acknowledge him when he answered the Justice League’s call the first time was that he asked me not to. More importantly many others, including multiple Ancients, recognize his authority and will follow him if he asks even if he is not yet the true king. His threats are not idle.”

“He should not be making threats at all! This is a diplomatic meeting,” One of the leaders exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh is it?” Danny asked, raising his eyebrows. “Because it sounded like what you were about to do was excuse and pardon their crimes against me and my people and offer them more resources. If that’s not what’s happening and you were about to mete out proper consequences then by all means, carry on and prove me wrong,” Danny said with a ‘go on’ gesture of one hand and leaned back in his chair, looking down his nose at the assembly.

Silence hung awkward and heavy over the room, which was all the confirmation Danny needed of the bad direction things were starting to go. He tried very hard not to fidget under the eyes of so many people. He knew that he was the prince, he was going to be the king overseeing basically an entire dimension with other monarchs and leaders under him, he was of a higher rank than anyone here! If only he wasn’t still so young, with so much more to learn. Speaking of which...

“How do you people deal with crimes like imprisonment and torture without cause? There are punishments for these things aren’t there?” Danny asked, cocking his head. He’d never paid much attention to politics, and what little he knew about politics didn’t really give him much hope for how this would be handled.

“Of course there are,” Diana said calmly, once again trying to force the room to move on or get left behind. He really did admire her ability to control the room as much as she did. “Since there is no question of the crimes the Ghost Investigation Ward did commit, the only question is what the consequences will be.” She looked around, but it seemed this time her attempt to nudge the leaders along had failed.

“With all due respect, ‘Your Majesty’,” Agent W directed at Danny, not even trying to hide her skepticism and contempt of his title. It made Danny bristle and got his hackles up immediately. To her credit, she didn’t flinch under his glowing glare. “It’s not our job to protect your people, we need to protect our own.”

Danny heard a few murmurs of agreement, he looked down for a moment thinking about that and trying not to bite his lip. He should stay, he should try to argue further and come to a peaceful solution, but he had been doing that for years! He had always just avoided the humans who hunted him, he had barely even defended himself from them for years, and he was done trying to be nice, to play by their rules.

“Right,” He said, standing up and surveying the collective leaders. “Who agrees with her perspective?” He asked scanning the collective.

There was a moment's hesitation before hands started to raise. He nodded firmly and looked back at Agent W. “Good, you protect your people,” he sneered, “ and I’ll do the same. Red Hood, Phantasm, let’s go,” Danny said and turned away, taking Hood’s hand and pulling him out through the wall, Phantasm followed. When Danny noticed Deadman looking torn, Danny gave him a small smile; “Stay with your team, there should still be one of us in the room. If they come to their senses let me know.”

He left the room through the wall and let invisibility cloak them as he grabbed Phantasm as well and flew straight up into the sky, not so high that Jason would struggle to breath but far enough they’d be guaranteed privacy. He let go of Phantasm since she could float on her own but kept Jason held close so gravity could not reclaim them.

“So, you’re not just giving up,” Jason said casually, “So, you have a plan?”

“Yes I have a plan,” Phantom agreed with a solemn nod. “It’s not my first choice, and I don’t really want to talk about it in case it fails. If it works I’ll let you know, if not you can help me brainstorm a plan B. Okay?” He glanced at the two of them, Jason didn’t hesitate in agreeing, Phantasm looked worried, but she nodded too. “Thank you. Phantasm take Jason please, you two stay put. I need to go… get something, and I have a feeling they’ll be calling us back soon once they see the storm they’ve unleashed on themselves.” He said with a thin smile.

“Right?” Phantasm said, she still sounded uncertain but she offered Jason her hand, and when he took it she took over keeping gravity at bay.

Danny smiled and drifted closer, kissing Jason’s helmet softly. “I’ll be back soon, just trust me okay?” He asked, ruffling Ellie’s hair.

“I always trust you, Cub,” Jason said, sounding tired but fond even through the helmet’s modulators.

“Just… don’t do anything stupid string-bean,” Ellie sighed.

“I’ll try pipsqueak,” Danny agreed before speeding away from both of them.

He needed to find his way back into the Ghost Zone but that wouldn’t be easy but it was far from impossible. There were natural portals opening up somewhere in the galaxy all the time, and Danny could get back in contact with Wulf somehow if he needed to. How he wasn’t sure, but he was on a time crunch so he had better figure it out fast. He didn’t want to leave Ellie and Jason hanging and time was of the essence. He had a feeling he could sense portals if he really tried, other ghosts seemed to know where they were after all! He just needed to get away from any distractions, to where his mind was clearest and his core shone the brightest, and for him that would always be space.

Once he was far enough away that the earth was a frisbee amongst the stars Danny settled into a cross legged position and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath he didn’t need and exhaled slowly, trying to remember what little he knew about meditation and, like, opening one’s third eye.

“Alright portal, where are you,” He murmured rolling his shoulders, only to jump out of his skin when he heard a crackle and boom right under him. He shot up as he opened his eyes, half expecting an attack only to see a swirling green portal directly under him. “Great, of course,” He sighed, and let himself drop into it.

The green resolved into the large foyer of the ghost kings palace surrounded by the observants and a few ancients.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Chorused the observants.

“Great, how long have you guys been watching me? Fucking weirdos,” Danny muttered, but he couldn’t stay angry as Frostbite cheered and rushed in to hug him, scooping him up in a bearhug that would have cracked a rib if he had any. Clockwork followed more slowly, moving slowly and leaning on his cane, a thin smile on his elderly lips.

“It is good to see you, Young One. I'm sorry I know you haven’t had an easy time. I’ve been watching over you but didn’t feel it was possible for me to step in. Despite it all, you’ve done really well,” Clockwork said. He looked nervous, and Danny couldn’t blame him, he couldn’t count the number of times he had cursed Clockwork when things were at their worst, for not intervening to save him, but now…

“It's alright, I made it out and I found a new purpose. I assume if you had saved me I would have just spiralled or something like that?” He asked with a crooked smile that was really more of a grimace. It wasn't really okay, it would never be okay that Danny had lost his family and a part of him would never forgive Clockwork for having had the power to stop it and didn't. But he had also learned there was no point in holding Clockwork to human or present focused morals, he had his reasons and felt justified. Trying to hold Clockwork accountable would be counterproductive and maddening, he did trust Clockwork meant well.

“Something like that,” Clockwork agreed, mirroring Danny’s expression as he reversed into his child form. The expression looked very odd on his child-like face.

“We've been waiting for you,” the Observants chorused again, apparently impatient with the reunion. “Are you ready to take the crown?”

“Wow hello to you too,” Danny sassed, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous collective of giant eyeballs. “Yes, I'm ready,” Danny agreed, standing straight and holding his head high. He looked sure, even though he really wasn’t, but there was no putting this off any longer. “Release Pariah Dark and I'll be waiting for him in the world of our last battle.”

“That is not how-”

“I don't care if that's not how it's done, that's how I'm going to do it,” Danny interrupted the Observants. He really hasn't spent much time with them after his first defeat of Pariah and his capture but he was already familiar with the phrase.

“It is tradition to-” they started again and Danny interrupted with a growl.

“If I'm going to be king, this is a good time to get in the habit of obeying me. Release him, I'm sure he'll want revenge so he can find me in the world of our last confrontation and I'll defeat him properly this time, on my terms,” Danny insisted, bearing his teeth in a snarl. He knew that they weren't pleased, but he didn't care, he didn't plan on his rule to be dictated by trading so they could get used to it.

The Observants didn't have any mouths but he was sure that if they did they would look like they'd just bitten into a lemon. He'd never really understood why they were like this, Pariah Dark couldn't have been particularly obedient to tradition, but maybe he’d been gone so long they'd forgotten what it was actually like to have a ruler and only had the idealized version from inside their own minds. “As you wish,” they agreed sourly.

“That’s better,” Danny smiled thinly, there was little joy in this situation but he could find some in pissing off these uptight bastards. He nodded to them and looked back at Clockwork, he must know what Danny was planning and Danny was a bit surprised Clockwork didn't seem to have any objections. When he had intervened before it had been to stop Danny going ‘bad’. Maybe this time was different because Danny wasn’t planning to cause the damage himself, just… allow it to happen.

“You will be a good kind Danny,” Clockwork said softly. “Sometimes a leader has to compromise their own values to do what’s best for their people.”

“Ya, I’m not sure that’s what I’m doing Clockwork, those people hurt me worst of all, I think I have some pretty personal motivations,” Danny said bitterly.

“Even so,” Clockwork said with a shrug and a knowing smile that set Danny’s teeth on edge.

“Right,” He grumbled as he turned and walked back through the still open portal before turning and slashing through it from the other side. They would have a hard time opening another in the exact same location, not that Danny was planning on sticking around here, but the less of the universe and the more of Earth Pariah would have to rip through before he found Danny the better. He grinned far too wide and rocketed back towards earth.

He had done it! Pariah would be right on his heels and that bastard had no respect for human life. He would give the stupid humans something to fear~ By the end of the day they’d be groveling and begging for Danny to save them, and maybe he even would, if they asked very nicely.

He stopped on a dime next to his fiance and little sister again. They both jumped at his sudden appearance which made Danny laugh, Jason had taken off his helmet and his look of shock was particularly amusing! It was usually so hard to sneak up on the hypervigilant man. Danny reached out to take Jason back from Ellie and settled himself comfortably in Jason's lap while Jason wrapped his arms firmly around Danny's waist so he wouldn't fall. Ellie mimed gagging at the display of affection but didn't say anything.

“So, what did you do Danny? You weren't gone long enough to have gotten that far. Did it not work out?” Jason asked curiously and Danny gave him an impish smile.

“Oh no, it worked. I'm sure the Justice League will be calling us in just a few minutes once word gets to them about what just entered their dimension.” Even as Danny was talking he felt the change, the wave of dark energy that had just broken through the barrier between worlds. He didn't react, but it made Ellie stumble.

Danny remembered this dark energy from last time he'd fought Pariah but he had thought that was just because he had been nearby. It was disconcerting to know it could be felt at such a distance by those sensitive enough. Danny was sure he could handle this, but for a moment he was still worried he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

“Danny, what did you do?” She asked, sounding seriously worried.

“I released Pariah Dark,” he told her plainly, no point being cryptic now since this wasn't exactly a fun surprise. Her look of horror was cold water dumped on the burning coals of his rage and he winced. “Go back to your team Starlight, keep them safe but don't get yourself in trouble. This is… not going to be pretty,” he told her gently. He wasn't ashamed of what he was doing, not really. But he did worry about how she would feel about him afterwards, especially if one of her friends was hurt in the fall out.

Jason's phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket as Ellie rushed away from the two of them, back towards Titans tower. Danny watched her go, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t call her back and selfishly try to keep her safe. She and Jason were the ones he loved most but it would be selfish to hold her safely prisoner, especially when Jason's family was bound to be out there too.

“That can't be them already?” Danny asked Jason worriedly, forcing himself to look away from Phantasm’s retreating form to check the notification on Jason’s phone. She was strong and clever, she’d be alright, he needed to have faith in her.

“It's not, it's an emergency alert. He didn’t waste any time fucking shit up did he?” Jason asked, unlocking his phone and opening social media. It was already starting to flood with half corrupted videos and pictures of Pariah Dark and his army of skeletons. He had landed somewhere in the US by the looks of things, which Danny was glad of, and all the videos were full of screaming and fire. Occasionally he bellowed demands for Danny to show himself, but they were in ghost speak so none of the humans understood what he was asking for.

“Damn that's one big mother fucker,” Jason whistled. “So that's the mad king?”

“Yes,” Danny sighed, leaning his head against Jason’s chest. “Now we just see how long it takes for those idiots down there to realize the GIW's weapons are like water guns to him. I'm not going to negotiate with them anymore, but I will accept their surrender and once they've agreed to all my terms I'll deal with him.”

“Isn’t he coming for you? Why’s he in America?” Jason asked as he kept refreshing his social media feed.

“He can’t tell where I am, I could find him but I’m less flashy then he is, and I got used to minimizing my ecto-signature to avoid the GIW. Pretty sure he’s hoping that if he causes destruction he’ll smoke me out since last time I fought him it was to protect my town. Not this time, it’s not my job to protect these people anymore, they’ve made it very clear they don’t want me too,” Danny sneered, rolling his eyes.

Jason nodded gravely, and hugged Danny more tightly, he knew this hadn't been an easy choice. Danny nestled in against Jason's chest, his eyes glowing brighter than usual with anger and sorrow.

“How are you feeling, Moonlight?” Jason asked softly. They had some time as the GIW rushed to arrive on scene and prove how useless they were. “This means that you’re going to be king after this doesn’t it?”

“I'm not sure how I feel,” Danny sighed, biting his lip for a moment before continuing. “I wish it felt better, more righteous. I wanted revenge but most of the people being hurt had no idea what their government was even doing, and they're suffering for it, so I can't really feel good about it anymore. But I also don't exactly feel bad about it either, you know? And a part of me wishes I did because I tried so hard to be good when I was younger and how little I care now feels like a failure.

“But then again I guess it was Sam that really insisted I use my powers for good. I was a teenage boy and other than protecting my friends my first instincts were to sneak into the girls locker room, and douse my bully in half spoiled meat. Maybe I was just never that good.” He sighed, hanging his head and trying to swallow down the uncomfortable knot of shame and dread in his stomach.

“As for being king, I never really wanted to be king, but Clockwork seems to think that’ll just make me a better king, I hope he’s right. And I do think I'm ready, with you, your siblings, and Ellie I finally feel like I have a firm foundation again. Your proposal felt like the last puzzle piece I needed to feel whole, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.”

“You are good Danny, and you'll be a good king, but even good people have their breaking point. It's their fault they pushed you to yours. The Justice League and the Teen Titans will be on the scene to help evacuate soon and I’m sure it won’t be too long before those idiots down there will realize they’re up shit’s creek and call for help soon.”

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #my writing #fanfiction #dani phantom #clockwork #frostbite #the GIW #deadman dc #diana prince #batman #red hood #Hyena!Danny AU #multipart fic

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diana-rose-25 · 4 months ago

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★*☆ Eugh, As If

pairing/s: Sirius Black x Evans! Reader

warnings: Severus Snape.

description: The younger sister of Lily Evans takes revenge for her when slimy old Snape betrays her and calls her a mudblood. Sirius wants to marry her now.

status: unedited

word count: 5.2k

Note: I word vomitted.

“You think Potter will ever stop with his shenanigans in getting Lily to fall in love with him?”

Dorcas leans back while biting on the toast to look at the entrance of the dining hall, watching Potter try to stand tall and cool in front of the woman he fancies, and failing miserably.

It’s no secret that James Potter is one of the most sought out bachelor in the school, maybe even the Wizarding World, and he fucking knows it. When one is constantly praised for everything he does, have the ground he walks on practically worship, a star player in Quiddich, comes from a prominent family, insanely wealthy, and, there is no denying it, a handsome lad; one while develop a massive ego.

James Potter knows he is the shit. He is not only gifted in the athletic aspect, he can also hold himself well in the academic aspect.

Strutting around the school like a peacock, as if he runs the school, and maybe he looks like it from the swooning glances he gets from the ladies and the envious looks from the guys. With his charming smile, messy hair that compliments his features, and laid back attitude, James Potter can attract anyone and everyone.

Well, anyone but the one he wants.

Dorcas and Marlene sighs at the sad, and almost pathetic efforts to woo their friend. While James is trying his best to appear cool and composed, they know the young man well enough that his palms is sweating by the way he brushes them in his trousers, his stance is somewhat off by the ways he’s constantly shifting his weight from side to side, the way he constantly brushes his hair back, and if they squint closely, they can see how the corners of his lips are shaking in his smile.

Meanwhile, Lily Evans could care less. Despite her look being indifferent and the way she nods her head from time to time, she has this far away look in her eyes. Dorcas and Marlene shares a concerned look, if the rumors are true, then that event from yesterday and last night are the cause of it.

Lily then made an excuse from the looks of it before walking away towards them and James looking surprised. It’s the first time that Lily actually made a civil excuse to get away from his attempt at making a conversation rather than cussing him out and walking away.

Dorcas hummed, tearing away her look once she sees Lily walking towards their seat to look at Marlene. “You think she knows?”

“Only way to find out is when she walks through that door,” Marlene replies before sipping on her tea. As if she’s summoned, (Y/N) walks into the dining hall right after Lily takes her seat beside Dorcas who rubs a hand on her back comfortingly.

“Oooh, she definitely knows something,” Marlene smirks in her cup.

Lily and (Y/N) couldn’t be any more different from each other despite being twins, well, fraternal twins. Although the twins share those deep, forest green eyes, and a few quirks and mannerisms, everything else couldn’t be anymore different.

Lily is known for her famous, shiny, flaming red locks with a matching extroverted fiery personality, a beautiful stars of prominent freckles painted all over her face and body, always with her big group of female friends wherever she goes and is academically competitive. An overachiever honor student. Hence, joining a few orgs that catches her interest to broaden her horizon in the Wizarding World. Lily Evans is unafraid to speak what’s on her mind and call people out on their bullshit, earning her the title of the Gryffindor Princess.

Unlike her older sister, (Y/N)’s hair does not command the attention of the room upon entering. Although it’s still beautiful on its own way, being pitch black even when the sun hits her hair. She also sports freckles on her face, not as noticeable and its only littered around her nose, cheeks, and a little on the chin. (Y/N) mostly keeps to herself but enjoys the company of her two friends, Pandora and Elisia. She’s not as intense in academics, but still impressive as she only falls right behind her sister, being number 2 in their whole year. (Y/N) is more mellow compared to her sister, though still sporting that fiery temper but is rarely shown and more controlled. That doesn’t mean she can’t show her blatant dislike for her someone, her face says everything without uttering a single word.

The two sisters couldn’t be any more different physical and personality wise, yet are the most desirable bachelorette in the castle to both muggle born and purebloods (they will never admit it publicly other than a few friends).

You would think that between the two of them, Lily is the most terrifying. But if you ask Lily Evans herself, she would only smile at you and say: “you have no idea.”

James instinctively raised his arms and swiftly moves aside before (Y/N) crashes to him by the way she walks. The woman usually sports her rbf (resting bitch face) which is often mistaken as annoyed or indifferent, but her face is now devoid of any emotion. Like suppressing a fire beneath the exterior. The only evident clue about her burning rage is her body language, the frown on her lips, and her clenched jaw. None of her admirers dares to approach or even bother her once she sits down beside Pandora on the Ravenclaw table.

“Isn’t she a part of the dueling org? And she’s with you, right?” Marlene nods at Dorcas’ question. “And there is a compulsory meeting this afternoon to welcome new comers?”

“Who are you talking about?” Lily asks with a bit of her toast, getting her answer when Marlene nods her head towards her twins’ direction.

“Yeah, there is, what about it?”

Dorcas shrugs her shoulders, sneaking a glance towards Ravenclaw’s way. Noting the way (Y/N) had a fist resting on her cheek with her elbow propped on the table, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip, face still visibly annoyed.

“Can non members watch later?”

~~~

“Think Snivellus’ll show up his face today?” Sirius jumps towards James’ back, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they walk towards the Dueling Org’s room.

James scoffs, “better not or its on sight.”

The pair followed the clump of first year students who are taking their time ogling at the wide infrastructure of the room. The walls are lined with ceiling to floor windows, craved with different magical creatures ranging from the tiny fairies to the huge dragons seemingly soaring through the sky. In the middle of the room, four pairs of tables are assembled together to create a stage where practice spells are demonstrated and duels will commence.

Students are idly chatting around the tables, the first years almost bouncing around excitedly from the front whilst the older years can feel their nerves shake from the building adrenaline the more they wait. Having the compulsory meeting as a welcome to new new members means having the chance to be picked in a duel demonstration.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Slughorn stands on the make believe stage of the room, talking amongst themselves and another student. Sirius Black smirks upon seeing her figure from beside the professors, taking notes in whatever they are talking about. Sirius taps James’ chest to direct his attention towards (Y/N). The two of them share a knowing smirk before walking towards where she is.

(Y/N) had barely touch a foot down to the ground when she hears the annoying voice of a certain, older Black.

“How is my favorite Evans doing today?”

She could feel a headache forming earlier today, it turns worse when she saw the infuriating grins by what she calls the Dumb and Dumber Duo. There in front of her stands James Potter and Sirius Black, shoulder to shoulder with arms crossed against their chests, a playful gleam in their eyes as they peer down at her.

She sighs and rolls their eyes at them, before turning her back against them and looking through the notes she just made. “What do you idiots want now?”

“Can’t I just approach my favorite sister-in-law for no reason?” James playfully pouts, approaching her side and wrapping an arm around her which earned him a hard shove against his chest that has him wheezing on impact.

“Eugh. As if.”

“Oh come on now, Sweetie Pie,” (Y/N)’s face scrunches up in disgust when she feels a breath on the other side of her face and her hair getting twirled around a finger. Sirius shot her a playful wink and smile when she slaps his hand away and takes two steps back, his proximity is too close to her liking.

“Didn’t I already tell you not to call me that?” Sirius tilts his head in confusion, smile still on his face, “did you?”

“Yes, I did you mongrel,” (Y/N) says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve told you countless of times already.”

“Really?” The tall man mocks, placing his pointer finger and thumb on his chin and looks up, painting himself to be thinking of a deep thought.

“Hm, I don’t remember. Mate, you remember anything about (Y/N) Evans telling me to stop calling her Sweetie Pie, Honeybunch, Sugar Pie, Light of my Life, Apple of my Eye, Baby Babe, and Darling Princess?”

(Y/N)’s eye and fingers twitches at the sheer audacity of the man in front of her, her grip on her pen tightening to the verge of snapping when James skips to Sirius’ side with a faux, innocent wide eyes.

“Really? She said that? When?”

James mirrors Sirius’ pose, the duo somehow forming an innocent aura around the two of them. To the first years, it seems like two men deep in their thoughts, to those who knows better, the two idiotic duo are up to something again.

(Y/N) is one of the people who knows better. Yet before she can conjure up her wand to send a stinging spell their way. Professor Slughorn calls everybody’s attention to the front to start the introduction.

Sirius stuck himself to her side whilst James positions himself to his other side, hoping to catch a glimpse of Severus and send a certain finger his way.

The other first years and new members flocked themselves to the front, squeezing themselves together as much as they can to listen eagerly and get the best view. Unknowingly shoving the three sixth years together until their shoulders press together.

It might be a sharp quill or paper, but something stung (Y/N) on her arm causing her to let out a low hiss and instinctively pull it away, all without looking at the perpetuator.

Sirius looks down at her, brows furrowing when he catches her pull her arm away and the eager first years once again pushing themselves and crowding the front row.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He calls out loudly, taking (Y/N)’s shoulder and pushing her against his side whilst he holds the other arm out towards the first years. The small crowd looks at him with slight fear in their eyes at the strict tone of his voice and freezes in their feet.

“Stop pushing guys,” he reprimands. “I assure you all will see and hear everything, but let’s avoid an accident by not pushing and let’s make some space, yeah?”

Sirius shoots them a charming smile as he uses his hand to motion a push to create some space. As if activating his Black Charm, the girls swooned at his strong and charming appeal and immediately listened to him, taking a few steps back while keeping their eyes at him. Emitting girlish giggles while the boys scoffs and turns their heads away, still following them nonetheless.

(Y/N)’s eyes widens at how effective and fast Sirius can make the crowd listen to him, she almost finds it admirable. She gently pushes herself away from him and looks up at him with an impressed look.

“Thanks,” she says before looking at the front again. “Not bad, Black.”

Stunned, Sirius’ eyes widens at her acknowledgement of him. She rarely, or him ever, compliments him on anything. Although he had never done anything worth complimenting before. He made a happy sound at her, eyes almost disappearing at how large grin makes its way in his face. There’s a bounce in his step when he turns his direction to Professor Slughorn again. This time, he stands more taller with his posture straight and chin tilted upwards, a small, proud smile still on his face.

James looks at his mate with a playful scoff before shaking his head, finding the situation all too amusing. Unaware that he acts a lot more worse with Lily, and she doesn’t even acknowledge his presence most of the time other than calling him out on his bullshit.

The meeting continues on with discussing the rules, attendance, and basic etiquettes of dueling. The long lecture already had some of the older years almost dozing off due to boredom as they have had this discussion before. James falls victim to that boredom, opening his mouth widely to yawn without any sound and shaking his head to shake away his tiredness.

Sirius, on the other hand, is having the time of his life by constantly teasing the younger Evans beside him, poking her constantly and unnecessarily commenting to her about anything and everything. He only stops momentarily when (Y/N) pinches his arm so hard that he had to stick himself to James’ side, rubbing the wounded area before talking (Y/N)’s ears off after the pain disappeared. (It was bruised when he checked.)

“Now,” Professor Slughorn claps his hands once, effectively gaining the attention of everyone, including those who are in the midst of dozing off.

“Now that the rules and regulations are stated, I do hope you all take it seriously and to heart. After all, punishments are not to be taken lightly.”

“To formally start off the welcoming ceremony of the Dueling Club,” the older students perk up at Professor Flitwick’s insinuation. James, Sirius, and (Y/N)’s back straightens, feeling their fingers twitch in anticipation. “Professor Slughorn and I will choose students from the older years to give you a glimpse of a proper duel.”

The older students starts whispering excitedly, some playfully raising their hands in hopes that they will be picked while some try to turn their heads away to avoid being seen. James and Sirius holds their head up high, if the professors want to show the new comers some entertainment, it is in their best option to pick them two. If it’s a show they want, then it’s a show they’ll get.

Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick whispered amongst themselves before nodding and walking to the other ends of the stage, anticipation and excitement fills the air once they face the students.

“From my house,” Professor Slughorn starts, “I would like to call upon Mr. Severus Snape as one of the students for demonstration.”

Giggles and small laughter can be heard in the room, the heads around Snape’s area turn to look at him with proud smiles and pats on his shoulders. Of course the idiot will surround himself with the other posies after yesterday’s event. They are the only ones left who will so much as talk to him.

James, Sirius, and (Y/N)’s eyes narrows, shooting stabbing glare towards Snape’s direction as her climbs up the stage and proceeds to where Professor Slughorn is standing. The older man clasps his shoulder and wished him a silent good luck.

“If Professor Flitwick picks me, I’ll make sure to end this lesson with him bald to put an end to his greasy monstrosity of a hair.” James says, crossing his arms while not tearing his gaze away from the Slytherin boy in front.

“Oh please, you’ll be just doing us a small favor.” (Y/N) scoffs, “I don’t think his hair is the only greasy thing about him.”

“I bet you, he’s never heard of a body exfoliator and wash cloth before.” Sirius adds, lips twisted downwards as they continue to stare daggers at him. “I don’t think he even knows what a regular shower is.”

The three chuckled darkly before Professor Flitwick calls upon one of them.

“In that case, I will pick out someone from my house as well. Ah, Miss (Y/N) Evans, would you kindly join us?”

“Certainly professor,” (Y/N) replies with a smirk and a wicked gleam in her eyes before quickly masking it with a beam and wide eyes. She immediately walks up the stage, head high and shoulders squared, causing the young boys and girls to awe in the confident aura she’s portraying.

Throughout the years, Severus Snape gained more confidence for himself, getting acknowledge and praised for his growing mastery at potions, and surrounding himself with fellow Slytherins with the same aspirations in life. His friendship with Lily really helped him out throughout all the unfavorable events that happened to him, and although he should also be friends with (Y/N) by extension since they all grew up together, they never really clicked but remained civil.

(Y/N) had always kept her mouth shut about her opinions on Severus Snape in respect towards Lily. She never understood why Lily would befriend him when he does, and is still doing questionable things, and his whole vibe is off. Her older sister was protective of their friendship, even once not talking for a week when (Y/N) said she refuses to be in the same room as him without her. It was one of the hardest week of her life. Ever since then, she never brought him up to anything ever again unless Lily started it.

However, due to him calling her a mudblood yesterday, the unspoken civilized rule between the two of them shattered.

Severus Snape never thought he would experience so much fear just by looking at someone’s eyes. There was ringing on his ears and sweat starting to form on his forehead, he grips his wand for some sort of comfort with a shaky hand while trying to maintain eye contact with her.

He doesn’t know why he’s so terrified, (Y/N) is just standing in front of him with arms crossed over her chest with her head tilting down to hear what Professor Flitwick is talking about. She nods her head from time to time but her face remains devoid of any emotion and green eyes are still burning deep to his soul. Snape gulps down, praying to whoever is out there that no one can see how difficult it is to hide how terrified he is right now.

It’s just (Y/N), he never has to worry around her before. Besides, she’s not much of a duelist and he’s probably better than her. She can hold her own but nothing special nor spectacular about the way she duels. She’s lost more than won duels from last year. Snape shakes his head and rolls his head around to release the tension, it’s just her look that’s making him terrified. Yes, that’s right, he soothes himself, I’ll be fine. He’s a better duelist than (Y/N) will ever be.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips before quirking up to an arrogant smirk. His posture changes, from his shoulders slightly hunch back, chin tucked on his chest causing his disgusting greasy hair to cover his face, to standing tall with an overconfident aura about him, sporting a nasty smile that almost looks like a grimace.

It’s just (Y/N) , what could happen? Snape thought, now casually twirling his wand around.

Sirius and James noticed the shift within Snape from their view. They grit their teeth in annoyance and worry about their friend (at least, they consider her as one, they don’t know if she considers them as one). Sirius feels his fingers twitch, wanting nothing more to take his wand out and blast the ever living shit out of the man to snap him out of his arrogant stance.

“We ought to teach him a lesson,” James says through gritted teeth, Sirius only hums in response.

Professor Flitwick was saying something to the class, but Sirius couldn’t hear anything that comes out of his mouth. He looks at where (Y/N) is standing, he’ll say that he’s surprised, but he honestly expected it.

(Y/N) remains the same, except this time, she had her head tilting downwards as she stares at Snape through her lashes with lidded eyes, a reminiscent of a taunting snake. Sirius let’s out an impressed noise, he’s 100% sure that if she wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw, she would have perfectly fit in with Slytherin house.

Sixth year students know that (Y/N) is not the best duelist out there, but Sirius can’t help but feel that there is nothing to worry about. He hums as he crosses his arms against his chest, still looking at her when the two of them starts walking towards the center of the stage, wands in front of their faces in customary respect to formally start the duel.

James looks at him, stunned at the laid-back demeanor of his best friend. He taps him on the chest, “mate, why do you look like that? Your crush is over there about to have a duel with that git.”

“Relax, James,” Sirius glances at him briefly before looking at her again, the smirk still on his face. “Just watch.”

Five paces apart, now the two are facing each other with wands drawn. Snape smirks, opening his mouth to conjure up his spell, “confringo!”

“Protego!” (Y/N) let’s out instantly, effectively blocking the spell with a wave of her arm. The way she projects the shield spell causes a ripple effect, making Snape stagger back before regaining his footing while she remains the same.

Snape’s eyes widens at the force of the spell. She didn’t even use Protego Maxima to project that kind of ripple effect. It was just a simple spell, Snape gulps, but why the hell was it so strong? Enraged, Snape grits his teeth holding onto his wand tightly before swinging his arm and shoots another spell. “Everte Statum!”

(Y/N) successfully blocks the spell without moving an inch. The nonchalant attitude of hers rubs Snape off the wrong way, further frustrating him. He then sends spell after spell after her, his adrenaline getting the best of him as he hurls his arm left and right while taking step forward after each step. His face contouring, not bothering to hide his frustration anymore.

Professor Flitwick sees this, and calls him out, “easy on the spells Mr. Snape! This is just a demonstration.”

The younger crowd watch in awe at the display of magic, witnessing the how much potential possibilities they have with the use of magic. They watch with eager eyes at the colorful display of cells Snape lets out from his wand and how flawlessly it is counteract by (Y/N). His group of friends continues to cheer him on and constantly belittling her calling her names, shuting up only when Professor Slughorn called by out and someone sending a stinging jinx at them. All of them had to exit the room immediately to head on to the infirmary room.

Sirius continues to glare daggers at Snape, his fingers gripping tightly into his arm as he watches (Y/N) continuously blocking spells but not doing anything to counter back. He gnaws on the bottom of his lip, wondering what the hell is your plan? Do you even have one?

Gusts of wind blows (Y/N)’s hair back as she continues to counter spell. It’s beginning to tire her arm out, and frankly, it was starting to bore her. The force of a spell causes her to momentarily stumble back, and that distraction is all Snape needs. ”Mimblewimble!”

Gasps echo around the room as they witness (Y/N) recoil back from the force of the spell, sending her straight to the floor with her back first, effectively punching the air off of her.

James and Sirius let out a shout of concern an disbelief, immediately running to the side of the stage. James had to hold on to Sirius’ sleeve to prevent him from jumping up. Shouting out strings of curses that shocked the first years and reprimanded by Professor Flitwick who’s tending to his student.

“Watch your mouths Mr. Potter and Mr. Black!” He scolds before turning his attention to his student, who is now shaking her head, arms and elbows on the side of her as she props up her body on the floor. “Are you well Ms. Evans? Can you stand?”

(Y/N) cracks her neck to the side before opening her mouth to answer her professor, but nothing coherent escapes her lips. The Mimblewimble spell ties the targets tongue in a knot, preventing them from making a coherent speech, or saying incantations correctly.

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, standing up after nodding to the head of her house, signaling that she is fine and is still able to duel. She made a show of dusting her skirt a cloak, then making her way towards the center of the stage once again.

Snape looks rather pleased with himself, much to the annoyance of James and Sirius. If looks could kill, the Slytherin would be dead from the moment he set foot on stage.

“Wands at the ready!” Professor Slughorn says, the two students immediately had their wands up, waiting for the signal. A beat has passed, then two. “Begin!”

“Immo-” Snape could himself ascend from the ground before he can even finish talking.

Wordlessly, (Y/N) blasted him a spell that sent him flying out the ground. A shout escapes his lips until his body roughly slams down to the ground with a loud thud. A sound of ‘oohh’ escapes most of the audience while James and Sirius lets out a victorious ‘yeah!’

It takes a few seconds for Snape to snap out of it, tapping Professor Slughorn’s arm when the former offered his hand out to help. To say that Snape is completely taken aback is an understatement, because how the hell did (Y/N) know how to use wordless magic before him? That requires intense concentration, skill, and proper technique.

A muggleborn besting him at something? And humiliating him in front of everybody in this room? No, that is not acceptable.

Snape’s face contorts again into that ugly face he likes to show as he sends furious spell after spell again after the signal. However, unlike the beginning, (Y/N) didn’t only counter spells, she also started sending one of her down.

Students watch in awe at the two who looks like they are fencing with the way they both take steps forward and back, symbolic of a dangerous dance the two are tangled in. The new-comers think that these are the two most eloquent and dangerous students in the org. However, older students will tell you that this is the first time someone lasts this long in a wordless duel, let alone a sixth-year student. A pretty impressive feat that not even older witches and wizards have mastered, yet alone confident enough to perform it.

Here is (Y/N) Evans, going from a mediocre duelist to being one of the best in school. A muggle born who struggles to think and recite spells during duels is now blasting magic left and right as if it was as easy as breathing. No word or sound escapes her as she continues shooting spells left and right before ending the duel.

“Yeah! Yeah! Kick his ass!” Marlene and Dorothy shouts from the back.

(Y/N)’s lets out a jet of water, not enough to take Snape down but enough to push him back and lose balance. His mouth then starts bubbling up with soap as she uses scourgify (to which James and Sirius laughs loudly at) before bandages wraps itself around the head out of thin air, effectively blinding him and covering his mouth. Snape’s hand went to his face in a panic to claw the bandages away from his face and spit out the putrid taste of soap in his mouth, yet he is unable to when (Y/N) turns her body to gain momentum for the spell, throws her wand out, sends the final blow, immobilizing him and sending his paralyzed form down the ground.

His body falls down the floor with a thud. The room is silent, then booming cheers fills the room.

(Y/N) hums at the sight of Severus Snape on the ground, now currently being tended to by Professor Slughorn who is undoing the effects of her spells. She twirls her wand around her finger twice before tucking it into her pocket, then facing the crowd with a grin and curtsying for them.

Professor Flitwick claps his hand, congratulating his student with a tap on her hand. “Well done my dear! I see you’ve been working on what I taught you. Hurry along now to Madame Pomfrey, get that spell of yours fixed with an antidote.”

The said girl hums and nods her head in agreement before bouncing down the steps, feeling much more better and preppy than this morning.

(Y/N) meets the awestruck faces of James and Sirius whose jaws are open in shock along her way, shooting them a teasing smirk and a wink. She pass by them with an air of arrogance she rarely sports, but she’s proud of herself this time. Basking in the attention of heads turning towards her with stars and envy in their eyes.

They continue watching the girl as she walks towards the door with a bounce on her step, hands out in a girly way, and hips subtly swaying from side to side with the crowd parting their way for her.

James feels a shiver down his spine as he witness the raw power and skill she has. Now all too aware that she can kick his ass anytime if he ever pushes her or her sister again. “I’m gonna be nice to her now.”

“Yeah? You do that,” James turns his attention to his best mate. Rolling his eyes at the love struck gaze he still holds after the woman exits through the door, eyes still fixated on it.

“I’m gonna marry her.”

note: idk why, I sat down for three days straight and started writing this. It's originally a series, but I don't know if you guys would like it.

#Harry potter #Harry Potter Imagines #Mauraders #Mauraders era #Marauders fanfiction #Sirius Black #Sirius x Reader #Sirius Orion Black #Sirius Black x Reader #Sirius x Evans! Reader #Sirius Black x Evans! Reader #Sirius Orion Black x Reader #The marauders #The marauders era #Eugh #diana fics #Evans! reader

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lostingubler · 8 months ago

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help i just saw someone say glee was diana reid’s schizophrenic hallucination 😭

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #diana reid #glee #suesylvester #matthew gray gubler #mgg pics #mgg

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the-brash-spud · 6 months ago

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Billy would definitely be talking mad shit about (almost) all gods to JL. Wherever it is ancient, old, or new drama, and by now picking up habits from those gods and being opinionated himself about the whole situations to mainly Aquaman's -bc poseidon- and Wonder Woman's -bc most female gods- dismay.

The whole thing would've gone to a head when Marvel again says shit about poseidon for almost sinking all of Japan again -honestly Japan's natural disasters are crazy common, like did some old Japanese emperor piss on the tridon he found bc he thought it would've been funny or something?- and Aguaman snaps at Marvel about why he never says shit about for example Zeus bc he probably deserves most shit-talking from a human. Marvel wheeze laughs like, "Dude, he's sponsoring me. The one time I talked shit about him, I had to sacrifice a chicken and two goats for him to give me my powers back. Do you know how expensive those get?"

So anyway, Superman would've gotten salty that he got mind controlled by a space catapillar during that time because Marvel couldn't keep his opinions to himself.

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michaelsfavgirl · 6 months ago

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NSFW alphabet

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Tags: Smut, mention of mirror sex, creampie, toys, public play, foreplay, semi-exhibitionism, outdoor sex, somno, masturbation, size kink, mention of a foot fetish (oop), teasing, mike being whipped and pussydrunk, porn, oral (f & m), mike's enormous monster cock, edging, overstimulation, mention of dp…

Word Count: 4.8k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: You can tell I started to lose my sanity at the end

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pop, Rock and Soul aren't the only things he's the king of, he’s also most certainly the king of aftercare. Michael takes aftercare to a whole new level, turning it into an art form that rivals his mastery of music. For him, aftercare is not just an afterthought, it's as important as the act itself and the foreplay leading up to it. You’ll never catch him lacking

After the heat of passion has subsided, he gently guides you to lay on your shared, soft sheets, allowing you to catch your breath while he admires you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. His touch is tender as he massages your heated skin, soothing any lingering tension and leaving you feeling utterly cherished.

Alright I'm going off on a tangent, back to aftercare! When it comes to cleaning up after sex, Michael prefers to do things properly. Instead of reaching for a mere wet rag, he opts for a shower or bath, finding the experience infinitely more intimate. With his hands in the warm water, he lavishes attention on every inch of your body. While he may melt at the suggestion of you returning the favor, his focus remains solely on pampering you.

Physical exertion is strictly off-limits after sex. Michael won't hear of you doing anything even remotely taxing. Instead, cuddles are mandatory.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Michael's adoration for you is evident to anyone who crosses your path; it's as if you radiate an otherworldly beauty that captivates all who are fortunate enough to behold you. From the strands of your hair to the tips of your pedicured toes (which, of course, he insists on paying for), you are nothing short of a goddess walking among mortals. If you asked him to choose a favorite part of your exquisite form, he would malfunction, how dare you make him choose?

…however, when it comes to the sexual side of your relationship there are certain aspects of your body that he simply can't resist fixating on. He loves your hips, his large hands seem to have a mind of their own as they instinctively find their way there. Loves to squeeze them, especially when you’re in company and he needs to silently convey his yearning for you. Now if you’re chubby/plus size he’s obsessed with your love handles. Marveling at the way his fingers effortlessly find purchase in the soft folds of your flesh, when he’s taking your breath away with each thrust of his hips.

As for Michael's own body, it’s no surprise that he likes his hands. I mean have you seen them?! He knows the effect they have on you, he's caught you, not so discreetly, staring at them on multiple occasions. Loves to make you watch him play with your wet cunt in front of a mirror. He firmly yet gently cups your jaw to make sure your eyes stay glued to your reflection as he pushes his fingers into you, scissoring them in and out while slipping his thumb past your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified creampie lover. Yes, seeing your soft skin glistening with his pearly beads of cum is undeniably arousing but it's the sight of his spent oozing out of your sensitive pussy that truly drives him wild. That sight alone is enough to get his length hardening in an instant.

There's something undeniably primal about the way he fills you to the brim, until his own semen spills over, unable to be contained by your warmth, trickling down your slit in a deliciously messy display. The added messiness and the sinful squelching sounds only serve to send him into overdrive, fueling his desire to claim you again and again.

On occasions when there's no need to leave the confines of your home, Michael isn't shy about shoving his creamy mess deep into you with his thick fingers, then nonchalantly pulling up your panties as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He unashamedly revels in the sheer debauchery of watching you walk around with his cum dripping out of you, soaking your underwear. And just when you think he's done, he'll surprise you with an occasional check, slipping his warm hand under your panties to slide his fingers between your folds, deliberately ignoring your clit as he teases you about how drenched you are.

However, if Michael is feeling slightly remorseful or if you two have places to be, he'll opt for a more discreet approach. In such instances, he'll push a plug past your tight entrance, ensuring that his creamy aftermath is neatly contained within you. But this "tidiness" comes with a price—the plug he chooses is usually a remote-controlled vibrator, allowing him to maintain his dominance over you even when you're out in public.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Michael is an open book when it comes to sharing his fantasies and kinks with you, but there are certain desires he keeps hidden, reserved for the privacy of his own mind. One such secret, (yes there’s multiple) nestled deep within the recesses of his consciousness, is somnophilia.

There's an undeniable allure to the sight of you lost in slumber, your features softened by the peaceful embrace of unconsciousness. As you lie there, your slow, rhythmic breaths filling the room, Michael finds himself mesmerized by the sight of your sleeping form. He can’t help the blood pumping in his veins when you inch your leg higher, seeking a more comfortable position, whilst inadvertently revealing tantalizing glimpses of your clothed pussy.

He only wants to rub your little clit that's all, or maybe also slip a finger or two into your slippery hole. Can you blame him for wanting to make his precious girl feel good? For wanting you to wake you with that familiar, pleasurable sensation between your legs?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

As much as the media wants to portray him as a clueless virgin to the public, behind closed doors, he's far from inexperienced. He's no prude and unfortunately for his mama he didn't wait till marriage. Trust he knows what he's doing. He knows his way around a bedroom, his every touch calculated to elicit gasps of ecstasy. With Michael, there's no fumbling or uncertainty.

In the beginning, when you first became intimate Michael made it his mission to commit to memory the nuances of your body and what turns you on. He focused solely on you, trying to gauge your reactions, see what brought you the most pleasure and what you didn’t seem too fond of. He learned to read your body like a well-worn book, to anticipate your every whim and desire before it even crossed your mind. His touch became more intuitive, his movements more fluid, as he effortlessly guided you to the heights of ecstasy and beyond.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

To him, it's an absurd question because He has no issue with bringing you the most pleasure in any position. and he's more than willing to explore them all with you. Of course, if you have one, he's more than happy to accommodate. Your satisfaction is his top priority, and he'll go out of his way to make sure you're getting exactly what you want.

But I know you want to know more so here are honorable mentions: The mating press: oh lord, he’s obsessed with how deep he can go. He revels in the sensation of plunging deep into your drooling cunt, his hips slamming against yours with a ferocity that borders on animalistic. Almost cums on the spot at the sight of your jaw unhinging as his tip kisses your cervix with each powerful thrust.

Standing up/against a wall: these are mainly reserved for quickies. Loves the urgency, the need to satisfy your needs in the heat of the moment. He delights in pushing you against a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he slides into your puffy cunt with abandon. Bonus points for watching your ass jiggle.

Low doggy style: prefers this one over the traditional doggy as you have to do even less. There's no need to strain your spine or hurt your elbows; no, instead all his sweet girl has to do is lie comfortably on the sheets and let him do all the work.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Michael has a fantastic sense of humor, most of his friends and family will agree. However, when it comes to matters of the bedroom, he adopts a more serious demeanor. He wants your thoughts to meld together, your senses attuned to the delicious stretch of his cock or the tantalizing sensation of his mouth between your legs. To introduce humor into such a sacred space would be to risk disrupting the delicate balance of pleasure and passion that he works so tirelessly to achieve.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Michael takes great pride in his grooming habits, ensuring that he is always impeccably clean and well-maintained, especially when it comes to his nether regions. While he may not be a fan of shaving, he keeps his pubic hair neatly trimmed, finding that the hair adds a touch of masculinity to his appearance. However, he does make an exception when it comes to his balls, preferring to keep them smooth for your convenience and enjoyment.

As for his preference when it comes to your grooming habits, Michael has a strong preference for a full bush. This is factual, you can't tell me otherwise. He's a product of the 70s era, where lush and natural pubic hair was the norm. The wilder the better. He told me so himself.

Adores when it gets messy with his cum or feels it dampen with your arousal as he pleasures you. He loves the way the soft hairs brush against his cheeks when he's sucking on your clit or when your pubic hair tangles with his own as he thrusts deeply into you.

Plus when the two of you are lounging on the couch, boredom sometimes leads him to slip his hand under your pants to absentmindedly play with the tufts of hair at the top of your mound.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

For Michael, sex isn't just a physical act, it's the ultimate expression of intimacy and connection. He views it as something sacred, a deeply personal and meaningful experience. He’s always doting on you in your relationship so that doesn’t change in the bedroom, he actually becomes even more affectionate. From gentle whispers of endearment to tender kisses placed upon your skin, he leaves no doubt in your mind that you are his everything, the center of his universe, and he is utterly devoted to your pleasure and satisfaction.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you entered his life, Michael's hand was no stranger to his throbbing shaft, especially with the weight of carrying the entire music industry on his back. Masturbation served as a way to let off steam and alleviate the relentless stress. But once you became intimately involved, his solo sessions dwindled significantly. Your touch, your scent, your very essence eclipsed any pleasure he could derive from his own hand. So, he'd much rather wait to get his hands on you.

Even when you're not in the mood, he holds off. Some might say he edges this way but of course, he'd never admit to such lewd accusations.

However, when the demands of touring keep him separated from you for months on end, Michael's resolve is put to the ultimate test. Alone in his hotel room, he finds himself unable to resist the primal urge to seek release. With your panties clenched tightly in his fist, his hand moves with a frenzied urgency, his shaft pulsating with need as he conjures vivid memories of fucking you senseless, eagerly counting down the days until he can hold you in his arms once again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lowkey a freak. All that repressed sexual desire from being in a highly religious household really did its thing, taught him how to conceal his deepest yearnings behind a façade of propriety and restraint. Considers himself more kinky than most. Even when he comes across someone who's also into kinky stuff they’re usually into the typical bdsm-like things whilst Michael's tastes veer decidedly into the realm of the unconventional. our man gets off on the weirder fetishes. (still love him though)

Aside from those when it comes to the more “normal” desires he’s into immortalizing your most intimate encounters with a click of his camera shutter. Polaroids and videos of the most raunchy moments that would put Kim K’s tape to shame. Of course your faces are still always out of the frame, after all, discretion is important when you're the most famous person in the world.

Has a raging size kink that borders on obsession. (not talking about body size) Each time he has to prep you with his fingers, the sensation of stretching you to accommodate his girthy cock makes his brain melt. Also unashamedly loves being messy and spitting in your mouth. I could go on forever listing them so let’s stop, we've got more to talk about.

Also may or may not have a foot fetish, but i didn't tell you that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mainly prefers the privacy of your neverland ranch but he's not limited to the confines of the bedroom. There’s no surface in your home that hasn’t been christened by the both of you. from the kitchen counter to the inviting waters of the pool.

Considers himself a semi-exhibitionist, relishing in the thrill of the forbidden without the desire to actually get caught in the act. There's something about the risk of being discovered, of stifling your moans with his palm while keeping a vigilant eye out for prying eyes. It's the adrenaline rush of teetering on the edge of discovery that sets his pulse racing.

Outside of your haven he prefers either his dressing room or somewhere out in nature. Making love to you while you're laying on a soft blanket in the middle of a flowery field while the birds are chirping? Sign him the fuck up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Michael's motivations are as straightforward as they come: you. The simple presence of your divine form is enough to send his desire into overdrive. Call it whipped if you must, but he sees it as a privilege to be enraptured by the allure of the sexiest woman in existence.

Strangely enough, it's not the overtly seductive gestures that get him going. No, it's the everyday moments, the mundane activities that hold the power to ignite the flames of passion within him. You can be lounging on the couch beside him, lost in conversation on the phone or simply lost in your own thoughts and the innocent sound of your sighs or the arch of your neck as you stretch will get him chubbing up instantly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Michael has firm boundaries when it comes to certain acts in the bedroom, rooted in the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. The idea of causing you any harm, whether physical or emotional, is utterly unthinkable to him. Squeezing your hips? Sure. a spank on your soft ass? Alright. but anything more aggressive or degrading is strictly off-limits. The thought of leaving a mark on your delicate skin or causing you any distress sends shivers down his spine.

Another thing that's off the table for Michael is pornography. He simply can't bring himself to watch other naked women when he's got his very own P.Y.T. by his side. Besides, with his penchant for taking Polaroids and videos, he's got his own personal collection that far surpasses anything he could find online. Why settle for generic smut when he has the real deal right in front of him?

At last, subbing is something he’ll never do. Nope, not happening. He's a pleasure/service dom through and through, and the idea of you putting in any work to satisfy him instead of the other way around? Yeah, that's a major turn-off for him. Katherine didnt raise no 50/50 “let's split the bill” goon.

When he's really exhausted but still wants to please you, he'll reluctantly let you take the reins. Will let you bounce on his fat cock as you use him for your own pleasure. It's the closest thing to submission you'll ever get from him, but even then, that doesn’t happen often and he's still calling the shots, making sure you're getting exactly what you need while he serves as your willing plaything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Michael's got a Ph.D. from the pussy eating academy, wait no, scratch that, he's the one who founded the university. He’s the founding father, the dean, and the star pupil all rolled into one. Therefore he's more of a giver. It's not just a preference; it's a calling. Sounds overused but he really could spend hours nestled between your thighs, worshiping at the altar of your pleasure.

And let's talk about his chronic clit-sucking habit. Once he gets going, there's no stopping him. He'll latch onto that little bundle of nerves like his life depends on it, not even bothering to detach his lips when he sees it swollen and sensitive from his ministrations. And when your thighs instinctively squeeze around his head, well, let's just say it's his version of heaven on earth. Deny him the chance to feast on you daily, and he'll legit start having wet dreams about it. No joke.

Now, when it comes to receiving oral, Michael's a bit more reserved. He prides himself on being a gentleman, and making you kneel on a cold wooden floor just doesn't sit right with him. He'll only let you go down on him on special occasions, and even then, he's careful not to push you too far. You won't be deep-throating him anytime soon—just the tip, thank you very much. He's all about ensuring your comfort, and he's not about to let you strain your jaw for his pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's somewhere in between. He's quite blessed downstairs so he knows he needs to tread carefully to avoid accidentally causing you any discomfort. “Technique is more important than pace” truther. That being said, there are moments when he's not afraid to let loose and take you hard and fast, especially if he's feeling particularly stressed or you've been a bit of a brat.

But if he's not in the mood for a wild romp, it'll take some serious convincing, a healthy dose of luck, and maybe a few well-timed puppy dog eyes to get him to crank up the intensity. And if you manage to persuade him to pound you into the mattress he'll step up his aftercare game to a whole new level.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

There's something undeniably thrilling about swiftly pulling aside clothes, not bothering with the formality of full undressing, and dropping to his knees to bury his head under your skirt for a quick taste of ecstasy. The urgency of it all, the risk of getting caught, it's enough to send shivers down his spine and get his blood pumping. He gets it, he really does.

But as much as he enjoys the occasional quickie, nothing compares to the ecstasy of taking his time with you. Michael is all about savoring every moment, prolonging foreplay until you're practically begging for release. He revels in edging you to the brink, pushing you to the very limits of pleasure until you're a quivering, whimpering mess beneath him. And when you finally can't take it anymore, when you're cumming so hard you can barely see straight, that's when he knows he's done his job right.

Seeing your legs trembling, your eyes rolling back in bliss, and your beautiful face contorted with pleasure is the ultimate reward for him. So while quickies may have their appeal, for Michael, nothing beats the pure, unadulterated ecstasy of taking his time and making you cum over and over again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Michael is all about pleasing you so if you've got a fantasy you've been dying to try, you can bet he'll be game for it. Even if it's not exactly his cup of tea, he'll give it a shot at least once, just to see the look of satisfaction on your face. There are very few things he’d not try, especially with you. Your pleasure is his top priority, and he'll go to great lengths to ensure you feel comfortable and fulfilled in the bedroom. So don't be shy about sharing your wildest fantasies with him – he's always eager to turn your dreams into reality.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You could be lying there, barely able to catch your breath after multiple rounds, and he'll be grinning like a Cheshire cat, asking if you can give him one more orgasm. And trust me, you never have to worry about taking too long to cum or him finishing before you do as this man can dance, sing, and entertain on stage for hours on end without breaking a sweat.

You’ve never had an experience when you didn’t cum or that he climaxed first. Absolutely not. He's a master at making sure you reach climax first, every single time. He's all about you and your pleasure baby. You'll never leave the bedroom unsatisfied when Michael's in charge.

He usually goes for three rounds and can last around thirty minutes before he finally lets himself climax. And even then, his refractory period is short – just a few minutes, maybe ten if he's had an especially intense orgasm. So rest assured, you'll be in for a wild ride every time you're between the sheets with him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does have a stash of toys that are mostly for your pleasure and he's not shy about putting them to good use. From vibrators to plugs to dildos (none bigger than his own length, of course) to lots of lube, he’s got everything you need.

He is not one of those men who get insecure and compare themselves to silicone toys. In fact, he sees them as valuable tools for enhancing your pleasure, not as competition. He knows that they can help him make you feel even better. They're besties not enemies.

He's especially into the idea of double penetration, but he's not about to invite someone else into the bedroom to make it happen. That's where the toys come in handy. He can fill both of your holes at the same time, giving you the kind of mind-blowing pleasure you crave.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

After music teasing you is his second most favorite thing to do. You hate how naturally it comes to him. No matter what the situation, he always manages to find a way to make your face feel hot, leaving you squirming and begging for more.

It's almost unfair how good he is at it. One minute you're just minding your own business, and the next, he's got you swatting at his arm and burying your face in his chest, trying to hide the embarrassment. But deep down, you secretly love every second of it – even if you'd never admit it out loud.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Unlike some guys, Michael isn't shy about letting the world know when you're making him feel good. He's a vocal one, and he sees no reason to hold back. I mean, why would he want to hide the fact that you're driving him wild with pleasure? Especially when you're at home, he couldn't care less if the maids or security overhear (they've all signed NDAs anyway), he's not holding anything back.

And let's talk about that mouth of his. It's downright filthy, I tell you. Once he gets going, there's no shutting him up. He's always whispering the nastiest, dirtiest things into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your gummy walls clench around him like a vice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Remember the dildos I mentioned in the toys section? Well this little freak has made a custom made dildo for you that is an exact replica of his cock. Yeah, you read that right. I’m going to give you a second to take that in……

he was absolutely buzzing with excitement, literally had his dick in a mold, imagining your reaction when you laid eyes on it.

Before jetting off on tour, he carefully placed this anatomically accurate marvel in a discreet box on your bed, like a tantalizing treasure waiting to be discovered. And then, without so much as a backward glance, he vanished to conquer stages in far-off lands, leaving you to uncover his risqué gift in his absence.

When you finally laid eyes on that uncanny replica, your face surely turned as hot as a boiling teapot. From the lifelike color to the intricate veins, every detail is meticulously crafted to match the one you’re all too familiar with.

When Michael called you from across the globe, you could practically hear the mischievous smirk in his voice as he awaited your reaction, fully aware of the tidal wave of emotions that “little” creation would unleash.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'm just expanding on this post I made a while ago.

He’s 7 inches when soft, 9 when hard. And before you start with the "unrealistic" talk, let me stop you right there, this blog is not the place for that. We're on Tumblr for crying out loud. Besides, rumor has it that Michael was packing something closer to a 12-inch monster, so let's just say 9 inches is well within the realm of possibility for our man.

But besides length you may say “length isnt everything its all about the girth” you are correct and to that i give you one hint–can of soda.(which is around 21 cm btw). He is absolutely obsessed with the fact that your hand can barely wrap around his impressive shaft.

Also he's uncut, with faint veins tracing their way all over, adding an extra layer of sensation as they glide against your slick walls. Has big soft balls to match the length. They are very sensitive so every time they slap against your bottom he's panting from the sheer overstimulation. Sucking on them during oral for longer than a few seconds will have you witnessing a rare sight of him losing his control.

Michael takes great care of himself physically so his cum tastes relatively good, never have you felt the need to spit it out. It's so thick and milky as well, all that creamy goodness looks mouthwatering, painting your skin or insides.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Good luck soldier cause he has a very high libido. And he has the audacity to blame it on you. He'll look you dead in the eye and say, "How can I not be insatiable when I wake up next to the most beautiful girl in the world?" Cheesy bastard.

As much as Michael yearns for you every damn day, he's not about to let his desires override your comfort. He's a gentleman through and through. If he notices that you're still feeling sore from the previous night's escapades, he'll restrain himself because at the end of the day, your comfort and well-being come above anything else, even his insatiable hunger for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

you're usually the first one to tap out. After all those gentle caresses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, it's a wonder you manage to stay awake at all. But Michael's not the type to tease you about it, he's too busy showering you with praise for how well you did for him. He'll pull you close to his chest and tell you to close those pretty eyes and rest. There's no better lullaby than the sound of his steady heartbeat as you drift off into dreamland. Makes sure you are snuggled up close to his chest before he lets himself drift off.

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