#They need no sleep! They’re DEAD & making it YOUR problem now!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 335

Danny Phantom and… Naruto crossover? Yep. 

Because Uzumakis? Canonically bat shit insane. Will look at Death and laugh. Probably invite them to dinner. Will create things just because they can, with no care for what types of rules of reality they are actively breaking. Will take a look at those rules as suggestions. 

And Uzu? An entire island nation who got slaughtered, who were betrayed. They have Unfinished Business! Things to DO! Projects to FINISH! Descendents to FIND! If they can find a way from this green place! 

And then? There is a child. Like, if someone took the appearance of an Uchiha and gave them the disposition of one of them. He is Lost. Was following a map, that they all wanna grab because oooh they wanna learn how it works and make their Own! Sentient Map! Give! 

But? The child? Mentions that some ghosts can break through the bounds of this reality? Can get back to the land of the living? They just need? To figure out which direction to go in? And anyone knows, you give the Uzumakis even the slightest chance of success, and they will all take hold like a small angry dog. 

It is Chaos. The dead have risen. The entire Uzumaki clan are back- again! Unkillable! Can fly! Can go through walls. Invisible! And that’s just the basics! They are vicious, petty, angry bastards that need no sleep! Will be taking all their stolen stuff back now!

Have formed an alliance with the Uchiha ghosts, who are pissed. It is an unholy thing of explosions and spite. 

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Yuu is Loopy and Doesn't Recognize Them

Based of this meme I saw and I couldn't get it out of my head

GN. Yuu isn’t drunk but is loopy on potions/meds. A bit Suggestive??? Leona calls you Scavenger/Pillow Enjoy

Riddle 

Riddle swore that when he sees Ace again, it will be off with his head. The brain dead idiot is responsible for landing you in the nurse's office. Thankfully, according to Professor Crewel, you will be okay and were ready to go back to Ramshackle. 

Being the responsible boyfriend he is, he made sure to take your arm and guide you through the mirror to Ramshackle and into the creaky dorm. You were obviously still a bit out of it as you stumbled through the hall and didn’t appear to hear anything he said. As he approached the stairs, wondering how he would get you into your room did you speak.

“Where are we going?” You slurred rubbing your temples with your fingers. “To your room,” Riddle answered. “Rose, can you hear me now?” Riddle asked, voice tinged with worry. “Why are we going…” you paused trying to formulate words, “…to some room?” Riddle raised a brow and spoke slowly, relaxing his grip on your arm as he did so. “You need to get some rest, don’t worry I’ll make sure you sleep well, okay?"

To his confusion, you suddenly pulled away from him and stumbled back a little. “Ah, Rose what are you—“ “Sorry you seem really nice and all but I have a boyfriend.” “Huh?!” Stumbling backward away from Riddle you practically fell onto the couch behind you. “Sorry I’m not gonna sleep with anyone, I have a boyfriend…” You slurred again, making Riddle stiffen before going pink and letting out a chuckle. 

“Rose, I am your—“ “Goodnight” You whispered before promptly passing out on the couch. Riddle just stood there for a moment stupified, before softly chuckling to himself. You really did love him, huh?

Leona

“What's wrong with you?” Leona asked upon seeing Ruggie drag his seemingly blitzed-out partner behind them into his room. “I dunno what happened but Professor Crewel said to let them rest,” Ruggie responded. “So you brought them to me?” Ruggie’s face fell, he knew damn well if he were the one to take you home that Leona would have complained. “Well, they’re your problem now shishishi! Good luck”

Letting out a yawn, Leona looked over to where you stood wobbling. “Come here, Pillow.” The lion leaned up and pulled you toward the bed. You weakly tried to pull your hand away. “Eh? What gives?” Leona’s ears twitch as you stumble back. “My boyfriend will get upset if he sees you holding my hand. “Oh yeah?” The lion smirked.

“Yeah, and I’m not a cheater either so leave me alone.” You mutter, eyes fluttering as you fight off sleep. Leona pulls you closer to him easily. “I am your boyfriend.” The shocked expression that arises on your face is one he will never forget. “No way that's awesome!”

“Yeah yeah, get to bed, scavenger.” He smirks, pulling you into his arms. As you fade into unconsciousness, he watches over you. Just how did he get so lucky?

Azul

Azul didn’t know who he should be mad at: Jade for feeding you some mysterious mushroom concoction that he sure would have no side effects or you for actually agreeing to test out Jade’s new drink. Regardless you are now in the VIP room of Mostro Lounge as Azul goes through some of the potions he has on hand. 

Sitting on the VIP couch you watched as Azul kneeled beside you. The mer fussed over you as you seemingly stared through him. Despite his lips moving you couldn’t hear anything he said. “Um, Angelfish are you alright?” Azul asks nervously as your eyes bore a hole through him.

“You kinda look like… my boyfriend…” you slur. If he wasn’t worried sick, he would have actually found the situation humorous, dumbfounded he responded. “Well, what does he look like?” “He’s so beautiful, man.” You sigh.

Azul feels his cheeks heat up as he uncorks a curing potion, wondering how he’s going to get you to drink it. “Like… I love him so much… He’s so pretty and soft and I wanna hold him…” “… Come now love, try and drink this and then rest…” The mer stutters and holds the bottle to your lips. Thankfully, you downed it pretty easily and promptly fell asleep muttering about how much you loved your boyfriend the whole time. Azul’s face was several shades of blue.

Jamil

Vil ended up poisoning you pretty badly during his overblot, and Jamil has been worried sick, to say the least as he sits beside your bed in the nurse's office, impatiently waiting for you to wake up. As you begin to stir, all of Jamil’s attention snaps to you.

“Yuu?” He calls out, giving you a few moments to stir and wake up. You blink tiredly at him before sitting up and looking around. Jamil wanted to crush you into a hug and ask if you were alright but knew that it may overwhelm you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, taking your hands into his as the heart monitor continues to beep. You blink owlishly and look at your hands. “I have a boyfriend.” You say after a while. Jamil didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused, but it did flatter him to know how loyal you are to him.

A mischievous glint appears in his eye. “I am your boyfriend.” Your eyes widen as the heart monitor picks up, beeping loudly as you smile. “I love you…” You slur, trying to lean into your lover's touch.

Vil

After a certain Shroud’s overblot, you were left hospitalized in a coma for a week. Vil was worried sick and visited you as much as he could, if he couldn't be there, Rook would watch over you for him. When he saw a text notification for Rook saying you were awake, he went to visit you immediately.

Rook didn’t have time to warn Vil about your condition as he walked in and immediately held your face, looking deep into your eyes before hugging you, body shaking as he held onto you. “You’re awake…” He says after a long pause.

You pull away from Vil, and the blond gets ready to scold you for your reckless behavior until he notices your expression. "I have… a boyfriend named Vil… sorry…" you babble before passing out again. Vil would make sure to scold you later

Idia

He was confused when he saw Ortho holding your hand and guiding you to his room. He didn't know how to explain it, but as he watched you through the camera feed something about your movements felt… off

Once Ortho dragged you into his room did he figure out what was wrong? "It's the side effect of their medication," Ortho said after explaining how you ended up in the nurse's room— why did they even discharge you in this state??

Idia groaned and started to clean off his bed to make room for you, before getting up and helping Ortho to guide you over to his bed. "Come on Yuu-shi the sooner you sleep the better." You didn't budge. Instead, you stared through him. Idia stared back awkwardly.

"You seem nice but I already have a boyfriend and I love him." Idia's hair flushed pink. "Eh? What did you say?" "I love my boyfriend and only him so I can't sleep with you…" 

You instead sit down slowly and lay on the floor, immediately falling asleep much to Ortho's confusion and Idia's embarrassment.

Malleus

"Oh dear, what happened to you?" Malleus asked as you stumbled up the path to Ramshackle. It was supposed to be your nightly walk together but you didn't look so good.

You didn't respond as you allowed Malleus to help guide you into Ramshackle and onto the couch. After a moment Malleus asks again, "Mind telling me what happened to you?"

"No worries, I happen to have a recovery spell I can use…" Malleus hums, preparing a spell. "You sound like my boyfriend…" Malleus chuckles. "Is that so Child of Man?" You lazily nod. "He's my most favorite person in the entire world…" you yawn, and Malleus can only admire you, lovestruck. 

"I don't think Jade made me the right tea…" you mutter as you lay down. Malleus makes sure to note that he would have to pay a visit to Jade later as he frets over you.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[world0fmadness]

WHITE NOIZ

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader

♡ more general dating headcanons for pelle!

୨୧ i hope you like them! i’m really praying that i never majorly disappoint someone with the fulfilment of their request lol! i’ll almost always put a silent hill song for pelle because i just think those soundtracks fit him so well <3

♡ requested by @gnrgroupie | view my metal masterlist here and here

reading music recommendations: iron fist by sodom - white noiz by akira yamaoka

♡ pelle doesn’t shower or bathe often but when he does, he likes to do so with you!

୨୧ like most things with him, it isn’t always in a sexual manor, most of the time it’s just an intimate thing he likes to do with you

♡ he’ll stand behind you, obviously with his height and all, and study your naked body, dragging his eyes across all of your features

୨୧ he likes to memorise all of your freckles and moles, scars and flaws… he thinks they only make you more unique and beautiful, you’re one of a kind and you’re his

♡ speaking of body features, pelle doesn’t really cuddle but he will usually at least have an arm wrapped around your waist or back

୨୧ this often leads to him tracing your features, connecting your freckles and moles like connect the dots!

♡ he often does it whilst you’re already asleep, he doesn’t want you to catch him and thinking he’s creepy, you’re one of the few people who doesn’t find him creepy and he’d really prefer to keep it that way…

୨୧ but you do wake up one time when he’s doing it, softly calling his name and asking why he’s not asleep yet and he jumps out of his skin, pulling his hand back and scooting away from you a little

“ sorry… i’m sorry… ” ( this only wakes you up more because what the hell is he talking about? sorry for what? )

♡ when you turn around and look at him, concern covering your face, you realise what he was doing and quickly take his hands in yours, assuring him that it’s fine and you don’t have any problem with him doing it! why would you?

୨୧ he gives a curt nod before leaning his head down towards you, his usual sign of wanting to kiss but still being a little awkward about it and not really knowing how to go about it

♡ after placing a gentle kiss on his lips, you turn back around and pull his arm over you again, quickly falling back to into the fog of sleep as his fingers trace your skin and he breathes quietly into your ear

୨୧ pelle falls asleep this way too, his fingers eventually going still on your body as his eyes close, he very rarely sleeps on his own but usually manages to get some sleep when you’re by his side

♡ pelle is absolutely not a morning guy at all… he hates the morning! they’re too loud and the sky is too bright, it’s when he’s the most hungry and he hates that

୨୧ often times he just will not eat, no matter how hard you try and convince him to just eat a single piece of bacon or even some toast

♡ but on some rare occasions, you have got him to eat some fruit in the morning! usually strawberries

୨୧ he just shoves the whole strawberry into his mouth, little green leaves and all… you think it’s because he can’t stand to look at food for too long and just wants to get it over with, you don’t particularly like when euronymous laughs about it…

♡ you help pelle with altering his clothes quite a lot! you don’t exactly trust him too much around scissors and knives so you’ll gesture for him to give them to you and let you be the one to shred up his jeans

୨୧ he stares at you blankly for a couple seconds before handing them over, standing off to the side and watching you work before thanking you with a slightly shy kiss to your head

“ thank you… they look good… ‘m gonna go bury them now, can’t really hurt myself with a shovel so don’t worry ” ( your mouth gapes slightly at the joke before you start laughing and he looks back at you with that once in a blue moon, all teeth, big smile on his face before walking out the back door into the garden )

♡ one time when he needed to write another letter to you, wanting to tell you some things that he felt you couldn’t quite say aloud, he realised there was no paper in the house except for some really “ girly ” pink paper with little bows running down the sides…

୨୧ it was only in the house because øystein’s mother had gave it to him and øystein had been meaning to throw it in the trash but pelle settles for it, it’ll work until he gets some more plain paper

♡ but when he gives you the letter, he sees your face light up a little as you trace the little printed bows with your nails

୨୧ he’s always extremely observant of small things like this when it comes to you!

♡ he watches your face like a hawk at times, studying how your eyes change when you like something or your lips turning twitching when you’re upset! nothing gets by him without being noticed

୨୧ he takes all of the paper from the kitchen and puts it in the drawer of his desk, you liked it! he’ll write his letters to you on this paper from now on

♡ it’s such a small but meaningful thing and you don’t even know he did it…

୨୧ another thing you don’t know about is that pelle has a picture of you two taped under his desk

♡ his section of the picture is folded because he doesn’t enjoy seeing himself all that much but when nights get really bad and maybe you’re not there or you’re deep in sleep, he’ll pull the picture out from under the desk and just stare at it, getting lost in your eyes and your smile as moonlight shines through the window and cicada chirp in the grass outside <3

[darsynia]

Dragonfly (Steve/Reader fantasy AU)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary:  Evil has prevailed. Your mentor’s dead, home destroyed, family scattered--you’re all that is left. At the last second, a stranger is called by magic to save your life. Can the two of you defeat the villain before he reaches the pinnacle of power?

Words/Warnings: 4,700 | canon-typical violence

draGONfly is 3/7 of my birthday gift set for @ronearoundblindly and is an action/adventure, angst with a happy ending story set after the blip. I know right now is a hugely busy week for you, Ro, and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

NOTE: it's MCU Steve in here! 'Worlds Collide'

Excerpt:

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Dragonfly

You’ve been on the run for ten days, with no safe haven to look forward to. The magic hunting you is relentless, fueled by hatred of your now-dead mentor and everything the two of you stood for. Your only reprieve is sleep; your enemy wants to witness the horror on your face in your moment of death.

All you can do is forge a path deeper into the forest, away from any innocent who could be harmed by Jovann Micht’s conjured creatures. As if watching Bram die hadn’t been torture enough, it seems you’re destined to die in the wilderness, alone.

You lean back on a tree and risk a pause to drink from your flask. Deep inside you feel your magic tremble; rest, food, and hydration is needed to stay powerful, but that is the point of Micht’s pursuit. Eventually you’ll falter, and he’ll achieve the last of his goals.

Does he know you bear the vial of his destruction? Those few teaspoonfuls are a potent culmination of your mentor’s study of the arcane, a life’s work of gathering and refining the most dangerous, mystical ingredients and combining them to make a weapon. You’d been able to see just two of the substances interact before being sealed into the final mixture, and the light they’d emitted had lingered in your vision for almost an hour afterwards.

There are three ways this can end: ideally, you’ll pour the vial into the glacial source of the valley’s drinking water and let the power propagate amongst the population Jovann Micht means to control. If that fails, you might be forced to break the vial with your dying strength, spilling its beautiful potential into the ground rather than empower one of Micht’s monsters-- or Micht himself.

The worst, most horrible option is for you to drink it yourself and spend the rest of your life battling to control the power Bram Ersk warned you about.

Heavy buzzing nearby sends your adrenaline racing, but it’s only a dragonfly angling its way past you toward the stream you've been following up to the mountains. They’re your favorite insect, brightly colored and free, with wide wings that decorate tree branches too delicate for a human’s weight.

You tuck away your canteen and check to see that your weapons are ready. The bow and arrows had only served to slow you down, so you’d sent them towards the plains with a burst of precious magic, a misdirection that hadn’t worked. Bram’s sword is cumbersome but necessary, and the daggers scattered through your clothing are a last resort.

Seconds later your preparedness pays off. The barest rustling of the leaves above your head has you crouching down with one leg stretched out for leverage if you need to run. You draw a dagger from its sheath at your back and watch in fascinated horror as your newest attacker reveals itself.

It’s a huge snake, fast and menacing. It strikes out and you dodge sideways, performing a half-roll to distance yourself, dagger still at the ready. Smoke rises from a splash of venom on your padded trousers, and a stab of fear strikes your gut. The snake can spit, likely with magic-enhanced distance. Is this how you finally die? Worn down with nowhere to hide from this acid toxin, then slain once exhaustion drops you?

You curl into a protective stance and tighten your grip on the dagger, drawing the creature in. Once it’s close, you spin up from the ground in a flurry of slashing blades. One dagger connects, but it’s glancing, enough to send the snake into retreat, but not enough to kill.

That only makes things worse. Your field of danger has increased to include the entire forest canopy.

There may only be a few minutes before the next showdown. You wipe your dagger on the nearby moss and place it back in its sheath for now. The forest around you is new growth, full of brambles and other scutgrass that tear at your armor, with a hundred branches arching over your head. You fight your way through to the stream with fear choking your throat, worried that you’ll have to expend more of your depleted magical energy to save yourself. If you need to use magic to survive his enchanted attackers from this point on, there won't be anything left. 

You’ve kept that power in reserve for some kind of final showdown, but there's at least a day left before you get where you're going.

Despair hits, and you scrabble at your neck, suddenly furious at the friend and mentor whose plans have brought you to such misery. The locket he’d given you has always been a talisman, a symbol of hope, but now you look at its silver concentric circles and feel nothing but betrayal.

Movement catches your eye, and you swing out blindly, the locket flying from your grip. As it spins, a blinding golden light spills out, growing larger and brighter until finally a figure steps forth--just as Micht’s devil-snake launches directly at you.

“Down!” a voice commands, and you drop, watching in shock as the glowing figure hurls a disk through the magical snake. The horrid thing lands in pieces that immediately shrivel and writhe. They melt into the ground, leaving only a low-lying, putrid fog behind.

The man stalks towards you, still obscured by the now-fading golden light. Instead of finishing you off, he strides past and pulls his disc-- his shield-- free from the tree it had sliced into. When he turns back your way, the man tucks something into a pouch on his chest, and the glowing light diminishes enough to see him. He looks you over, brows furrowed not in anger, but obvious confusion.

“Are you all right?”

“Thank you,” you say, struck near-dumb by the imposing presence of the man. He’s tall and broad, handsomely clad in padded armor with leather accents, but it’s his shield that has your attention. Its concentric circles and inner star look just like Bram’s locket, but in color.

He seems self-conscious about it, spinning the shield around and attaching it to his armor at his back. “Was that-- did I interrupt some kind of re-enactment?” your savior asks, curiously examining the last remnants of the toxic fog. He turns to look at you with the same studious intensity, but your head is spinning. Did Bram conjure this man with some sort of latent magic? “You should sit down,” he declares, thrusting out his hand with the confidence of a commander. The man clearly wants you to take it, but your hesitation prompts him to give up and walk over to a cluster of rocks. “Here. Do you have something to eat?”

Bemused, you pick your way toward him, deflecting your ‘I usually have to forage for something to eat’ answer with a question of your own. “What’s your name, hero?”

The word turns up a shy little smile that flies like a joy-tipped arrow right through your chest armor. “Steve. Yours?”

“Well, Steve, you’ve shown up for a battle, but I’m still fighting a war.” There’s no more time for niceties. You walk past the rocks he’d suggested you rest on, and pick up a sturdy-looking walking stick. It’s safer to stay close to the stream, and you’ll need the stability. “You’re welcome to come?”

There’s a chance that this summoned savior will disappear soon. You only have so much physical strength left, and you can’t spend it like this.

Steve turns in a circle, taking in the trees, the stream, and you, then nods, squaring his shoulders. “All right.” He certainly doesn’t seem at ease here, and you wonder if he’s real, whether he was somewhere fighting with that shield of his before Bram’s magic plucked him away.

Truthfully, you’re afraid to ask, as if naming the magic will destroy its cohesion.

Instead you lead the way along the uneven stones and brush that edge the stream, and he follows in clearly baffled silence. Sometimes you pause to adjust your armor or fill up your canteen and catch his brow furrow as he looks around at your surroundings. Once, he lunged forward to steady your steps on a slippery stretch of rocks. The warmth of his hand through your many layers was enough to bring rare tears to your eyes.

It's been so long since you’ve been touched in comfort.

Steve sees the tears but can’t know their context. You’re not willing to tell him, so you speed your pace, and he remains silent. If he’s been summoned as support, you question what triggers the magic might use to determine you’re no longer in need. If it’s words shared, you’ll hold yours in reserve. If it’s help provided, you’ll labor beside him with every ounce of your remaining strength until you finally ask for that help. If it’s distance traveled… well, you can’t think about that now.

Countless birdcalls and shared silence later, the landscape starts angling up more, and the trees thin out.

“Oh,” Steve says. His stunned tone makes you stop and look back at him. “I came to the forest--a forest to retrace my steps, looking for the echoes of what we lost. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I’d do if I found that the dust of my lost friends had fertilized plants that their shadows never--” he faltered, and you make your way to him, powerless to help, desperate to try. 

You recognize this grief. It's the hopeless kind, where a person just stands desolate in the aftermath and looks for the signs of their own death.

“Steve--” 

“It’s not the same forest,” he interrupts, a catch in his voice. “That’s a mountain.” He tears his eyes from the now-revealed peak in the distance and looks at you, concern and an odd sort of exhilaration in his eyes. “I kept walking because I thought we’d eventually get where you’re going, but we won’t, will we? Not today. Where am I? When am I?”

“‘When’ is easy: my waking nightmare. ‘Where’ is tricky. Who’s to know you won’t be pulled back where you came from if I tell you?” You can’t keep the bitter fear from your voice.

Steve steps forward to look down at you with gentle kindness. He’s so handsome you can’t help but feel self-conscious, clad as you are in shapeless armor, sweating with the exertion of carrying Bram’s sword (actually heavy) and Bram’s vial (metaphorically heavy)-- but you drift closer to your unexpected savior, catching the earthy scent of his sweat. You can see the sheen of it on his forehead, and you lift your hand to draw a finger across and feel the moisture of it.

“You’re real,” you breathe, surprised despite the snake, despite his steady presence behind you for this stretch of your journey.

He moves his hand to touch the drops of freshwater that have spilled from your canteen, going as far as to taste the tip of his finger. “So are you.” As though realizing that’s an intimacy the two of you haven’t agreed on, he steps back and squares his shoulders, the picture of a warrior again, despite his lack of weapon. Perhaps he is the weapon. “So what’s the plan? Camp for the night?”

You sway on your feet at the thought (both that he’d put aside his own situation and at the idea of rest), but shake your head. “Micht will send something else soon. I must reach the base of the stream. Everything relies on that.”

He looks askance at the darkening sky, then back at you. “What would make you willing to camp?”

A promise that you won’t leave me! you scream in your mind. A look of determination crosses his face, and you realize you may not have spoken the words aloud, but your body language has done that for you. You pull in a breath to prevaricate, but he brushes past you, headed into the forest.

“There’s a clearing,” he calls out, a minute later.

“Steve, I can’t--”

“You can.”

A terrible, insidious, horrid thought crosses your mind: that Steve is not from Bram at all, but an illusion with the same purpose as all the others that Jovann Micht has sent you. That his attack is formed from trust this time, rather than fear.

The shape of Bram’s locket is the only thing you can think of to refute your fears, but couldn’t Micht have torn that knowledge from Bram before killing him?

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Steve can hold a lot of supplies in his ‘tek’ suit, as he calls it. He gives you a few dense grain bread things, full of dried fruit and nuts that revitalize you. While you eat he lights a fire for the two of you, meaning you can save your newly bolstered energy rather than using it for warmth-- and best of all, he has a strange silver blanket that seems to hold heat so much better than anything you’ve used at night, even the homemade blankets from your cabin. Despite all this, you find it hard to relax, and Steve can tell. You are reluctant to explain and thus relive the trauma that sent you into the forest, and he doesn’t elaborate on his own.

He seems surprised when you want to sleep right away. That surprise morphs to a quiet, concerned anger when you explain the thin agreement you have with your aggressor, that he’ll only kill you when you’re awake.

“That won’t happen,” he declares, and you believe him. Just like a parent who promises they’ll always protect you, his words have an unspoken caveat; ‘for as long as I’m here to stop it.’

It’s enough.

You wake with the light, finding to your surprise that Steve has slept at your side, his broad back acting as a wall between you and the dangers of the woods. It’s been a week since you’ve been able to lay still in the morning, but your respite is marred by a large worry: why hasn’t Micht sent something else? Had he sent his most fearsome conjurations early on in your journey because you’d been stronger? It would be like him to conserve his energy and insult you at the same time. If you die to something more mundane, that would just add to his narrative, after all. The alternative is that he knows about Steve, and his new plan is to create something fearsome enough to destroy them both.

“You’re barely breathing,” Steve rumbles.

Selfishly, you want him to turn over. You want a memory to cherish when he’s gone. Just once, you'd had someone lying beside you whose sole purpose was to ensure your safety.

He does roll over. He’s no less real for it, and that thought lets you release everything you’d held back since Bram, since the village, since the slain, tortured lamb that was the harbinger of all the horrors that followed.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls you to his chest and lets you cry.

The next attack comes within sight of the glacial moraine. You were right. Micht had sent his worst to finish you. 

Steve pulls his shield from his back as soon as you pass through a group of boulders and see the creature. It’s twice as tall as he is, a four-legged monstrosity with the same number of snarling heads. Each serpent-like head is riddled with teeth, and like snakes, they bob and weave easily, able to turn and react with lightning swiftness.

“Your sword, please,” Steve says grimly.

“It’s armored--”

“So am I.”

Adrenaline mixes with the magic surging inside you. “Listen. I have a thing to do. It’s all that matters,” you tell him breathlessly. “After that, I don’t care what happens. Do you hear me?”

He’s looking at the creature, and you can see his soldier’s mind. You watch the fear dwindle, replaced by bravery, and you cannot let that happen.

“Steve!” you beg-- and he looks at you, still alert and ready to fight. “This was always going to end one way, okay? I just need you to--” The thing screeches with many voices, each wielding a knife that slices away some of your resolve.

You swallow hard and start taking off any extra weight, dropping your canteen, the sheathed dagger at your back, even the heavy brigandine leather that covers your blouse. It isn’t a match for a hydra’s teeth and claws anyway, and you must be fast.  

“I need to get to the base of the stream. That monster is here to stop me.” It probably isn’t. If Micht knew you bear this potion, he’d have long ago crushed you into paste and taken it for himself. “Don’t you dare lose your fear!”

Steve laughs ruefully. “I wondered if you would remember that.”

“Something sent you to me, and this is why. If there’s any justice, it should send you back, once I succeed.” The words stick in your throat, but you get them out.

“It’s a hydra,” Steve says with a hatred in his voice you didn’t think he was capable of. “I was created for this.”

You both turn to face the horrible creature. Steve lifts the sword and you ready yourself to run.

“Wait,” Steve says, a manic happiness in his eyes. He steps close and dips his head, kissing you. It’s awkward, with the sword and shield held wide at his sides, but that just makes it more real. “Go get him.”

Then he charges toward the beast.

You’d planned to wait until the two were fully focused on each other, but every fragment of magic in your body is screaming for you to help Steve. You tamp that down and hold still, certain that the hydra will only focus on Steve if bloodlust blinds it to your existence.

That’s even harder when there are multiple sets of eyes to look for you.

Steve makes first contact, roaring up and smashing his shield against the first head that lunges toward him. The thing reels back in obvious surprise, the injured head lolling to the side. The other heads rear up, and you take the moment to run far to the side, sticking to the treeline, even though it means farther to run. You weave between trees, catching glimpses of the battle but always hearing it. Screech follows screech follows the smash of metal against armored skin, over and over and over.

Just as you’re forced to cross into the rockfield, the hydra lets out an agonized scream, and you risk a look over. Steve’s holding his shield protectively above himself as he hacks at the two heads he’d sliced from the hydra. He’s panting from exertion, and as you watch, magic bubbles at the sliced necks, growing two new snarling heads from each stump. They sink down to the body of the beast and then stretch back out as individual, fully-realized necks right in front of your eyes.

You can’t send any power to Steve, not yet. Instead, you send it to your own legs, and the burst of resulting speed tears through the remaining distance. You reach into your shirt--

“You could have given it to me right away, foolish child.”

“Liar!” you spit at your enemy, furious and fragile. “You wanted this.” Of course he’d known. Micht had always loved theatrics.

“You’re right. That’s quite a guardian you’ve found for yourself,” Jovann Micht muses, leaning casually back against a large boulder. He’s standing between you and the stream.

You’re done with this. One way or another.

“Move.”

“I don’t think so.” He moves towards you, confident, commanding. “Hand it over.”

Behind you, the screeching gets louder, and oddly, Micht stumbles sideways, hissing. You risk a look over your shoulder and see that Steve’s sliced off more of the creature-- a leg this time. It brings the deadly heads closer to him, and you can’t watch.

Micht has conjured a walking stick that he’s now leaning on with a vicious look of delight on his face. “I prefer an intelligent adversary.”

He doesn’t mean you.

He’s always underestimated you. Everyone does.

Your fingers close around a vial, and you pull it free. It’s been shaken up by your headlong run, as evidenced by the blue glowing light.

“If you want this, you have to catch me.”

Your burst of speed still sings in your veins, and you start to run-- toward the hydra, not the stream. Gathering up all of your magic, you hurl it toward the back legs of the hydra, meaning to destroy them and hopefully disable Micht, if your hunch about the connection between them is correct.

The fireball hits home. The ground shakes as the terrible beast falls sideways, all seven heads turning to assess the damage. One catches fire, its agonized scream piercing your ears even at this distance. You can’t see Steve, but the desperate flailing of the inflamed head soon spreads the fire. 

You hook around, satisfied. Micht is in a heap not far from where you’d left him, recognizable by his signature blood-red suit. All that’s left is to get as close to the headwaters as you can. Bram had confided in you about the rip current that swirls right at its base, sucking the water down into a secondary stream that he’d helped the village tap into.

It serves as the drinking water for the whole valley, surfacing down past your former home and bubbling down to the sea, or so it’s said.

If you can get even half of Bram’s concoction into there--

A powerful blow knocks you to your feet, and you lose your grip on the vial. Dazed, you struggle to your knees, watching as a hand curls around the vial.

Get up! You have to be convincing! UP!

You’re unsteady as hell, but you lean into that, begging with a suddenly raw throat for Micht to stop. Your magic is almost gone again, but you grit your teeth and start for the vial. Behind it is your goal, the origin of the stream. Just ten strides, and he’ll think you’re giving up and throwing yourself in instead. Eight strides…

A rough hand curls around your neck and pulls the true vial from your bodice before shoving you to the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Steve roars. Through tears, you can see him running toward the two of you. He swings his arm, releasing his shield. 

Micht stands triumphant with the vial, unstoppering it in preparation to drink. It’s all of your worst fears realized, and the moment seems to hang in time, more misery for you to experience right before he kills you face to face, just as he’s always wanted.

Steve’s shield smashes into Micht’s midsection, knocking him backwards. The vial flies up, its contents fanning out in a glowing blue rain over Jovann Micht. Everywhere it lands, white lightning and red flames erupt. He’s screaming, you’re screaming, thunder and agony crashes all around you, until finally, he’s gone.

The silence is oppressive. It’s as though your blood’s stopped pumping, the air’s trapped in your lungs, and your muscles are frozen solid. The pressure builds until Steve stabs the bloody sword into the ground beside you and slumps over to rest his hands on his knees.

“We won.”

Your body's working again, but you don’t know whether to feel happiness or horror. “Yeah.”

Both of you are exhausted, the kind of bone-weary that isn’t possible without having experienced something unspeakable. The smell of burnt hydra is horrendous though, so Steve pushes to get as far away as you can before collapsing beside the placid stream. You let your hands dangle in the frigid glacial meltwater, needing to feel something bad that isn’t horrible.

“Don’t fall in. I’m too wiped to go back for the rest of your armor, and that’s a white shirt.”

He’s speaking in riddles, and honestly it's the first regular thing Steve’s said to you since… all of that. “What?”

“The water makes it transpar-- Never mind.” Embarrassment drips from his words, and it’s enough to make you scooch around so you can see him.

Steve’s black armor hides most of the blood, but he’s almost drenched in it. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him, and he’s wrapping a once-pristine white bandage around a gash on his leg, pausing every few revolutions to rest. Noticing your scrutiny, he offers you a weak smile.

“That fireball was something.”

“So’s your swordsmanship.” You search your resources and make a decision. “Want me to heal that?”

“What?” he says, then laughs, the sound genuinely joyful, though astonished. “I just fought a real hydra. Did you know that’s the second bad guy that’s disintegrated right in front of me? Of course you can heal. This place is… this place is something.”

His voice breaks on ‘something.’ You don’t know him very well, but the trauma you’ve shared tells you he needs a moment. Avoiding eye contact, you reach out, sending your magic in a gentle golden trickle across the ground between you. It slides smoothly over his boots and up the fabric of his trousers, finally sinking into his wound. You send a little extra, too, even though it makes your chest ache with warning. It’ll soothe his mind, and that’s worth it.

That done, you turn back to the water, staring past your fractured reflection into the stream’s shallow depths. Across the stretch of rocks and bubbling froth a dragonfly twists and dips, reacting to shifts in the air too subtle for you to notice. It’s a reminder that not everything’s been affected by the life or death struggle you’d just experienced. It helps, so much so that you don’t notice that Steve’s come to sit beside you until he speaks.

“Did you know that dragonflies are a symbol of grief and rebirth?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “Part of their life cycle is underwater, I guess, and the story goes that each one reaches a point where they need to surface. They each promise they’ll come back and tell the others what they find up there, but--”

“--but they can’t. They’re trapped either side,” you breathe.

“Trapped, yeah, but not dead.” The word is ragged, and you look up at him, even though it hurts your neck. “I lost friends in my forest. They turned to dust. We lost.”

Your hand is freezing, but his armor is thick. You reach out and squeeze his leg, and Steve stays still, clearly moved to quiet reflection.

“There’s a second life, is the moral. I don’t know if this is mine, but I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

You don’t dare hope, but you pour yes please into your expression. He smiles and pats his chest.

“There’s a pocket here. When I first showed up, you threw a locket--” he shakes his head curtly, enough to stop you from speaking. “I only caught a glimpse, but it looks like my shield.”

You squeeze his ankle, and determination hardens his expression.

“I think you might-- I think this place might need me. Do you have enough magic to, I don’t know… freeze it? Put it in stasis so it doesn’t send me back? I know just where I’d like to put it.”

You feel brave, but it’s not due to a lack of hope this time. This time, you have an abundance of hope.

“I’d like that very much.”

[rookiesbookies]

Seeing your hc of greek god!ghost made me think of how much of a disaster it'll be if he found someone he's into only for them to get cold easily and wears like 5+ layers everywhere they go

So I have bad circulation and a neurological condition that makes my extremities get very cold, which is why I believe I am qualified to write this. There’s nothing I love more than grabbing my partner with my cold fingers or touching him with my cold feet, my friends are also victims. As I write this one of my hands is ice cold and the other is a completely normal temp. Wish he was here so I could rub my hands over where he’s ticklish and make him shiver (im evil)

I had a lot of fun writing this ask, I do want to do more with this AU later so I love getting asks about it but I do need to clean up my master list😭

Fic under the cut

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Price was sent a younger maiden one other time. She had been just under the age he liked and he truthfully believed she would work better with someone else.

SO he delivered her to Simon’s doorstep in the underworld. Simon looked through the peep hole to see you holding a pie and a note from Price. When he opened the door and read the note (something along the lines of : she’s too young for me but seems more like your type) he tried to shut the door. Luckily for you, the future mother in law was there - Persephone was not having any of her son’s shit.

She quickly read the note herself and set you down, sending Simon to go make tea while she got a good look at you. Poor thing, so nervous, dropped on this doorstep, she wasn’t having any of it.

Then she noticed how cold your hands were and cursed her husband for giving their son such cold hands, he was always so clammy he just had to pass it on.

She quickly yelled for Simon who rushed in with the tea, telling him to start a fire.

You tried to tell her it wasn’t a problem with a nervous smile and laugh but she wouldn’t listen. So you told both you didn’t want to be a bother.

“Ya think yer cold?” Simon said sharply before grabbing your ankle with an ice cold hand from the floor where he was sitting trying to start the fire, the sudden chill made you let out a soft shriek. He giggled behind the mask.

Persephone saw that. She heard it too.

“I'm calling Hades and we’re planning the wedding!”

Simon’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“I can’t marry someone I’ve just met,” you awkwardly laughed between sips of tea.

“Well it takes time to plan a wedding, you’ll both know each other quite well by the time it comes around!”

Simon groaned, “just because you and Hades-”

“Shush!” And Simon shut up quickly.

And with that, Persephone fled the house.

“I would have thought because of how she was taken by Hades-”

“Stockholm syndrome, I'm sure of it,” Simon grumbled. Pulling off his fur cloak and throwing it over you. “I’ll sleep on the couch until I can sort this out.”

“Oh but I can’t take your bed from you-”

“Did I ask?”

You shake your head and quietly sip your tea.

Now lets time jump just a bit. Assume they both bond at some point and a month or so passes, they’re trying to cuddle, right?

There’s nothing that brings Simon more joy than torturing you with his cold hands. Making you whine and shove them under your arms to warm them.

“You’re colder than a dead body!”

“Why do ya think the lads call me Ghost, love?”

After more time, he chooses a new favorite place to warm his hands.

“Simon, we are at dinner! You can’t do that in front of others!” You hushly yelled at him.

“Come on, they’d be jealous that's all, not judgin ya!” He laughed.

“Simon this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled. His hands gently holding your tits. One hand over each.

“It’s my favorite place to warm em.” He shrugged then grumbled. “Plus Johnny made a comment about ya rack and I gotta remind him whose it is.”

You let out a whine, “your hands are so cold! I didn’t sign up for temperature play!”

He chuckles, “here, I’ll distract you. Two goldfish are in a tank-”

“You’ve told me this one so many times,” you giggled as he massaged your chest with his cold hands. You smacked his hand, “I'm only doing this to warm up your hands, this isn’t touchy time.”

He groaned in disappointment. “Price wouldn’t notice or care!”

“Oh he definitely would, especially if it was at his dinner table!”

“What are ya love birds whisperin on about?” Johnny holard from the other room.

“SHUT.” Was all Simon had to yell back.

[redbirdandbluebird23]

To Bite or not to Bite

Masterlist

Written for the Batman Halloween Bash 2024 (@wait-whos-batman) in collaboration with @graytodd whose art can be found here!

“So, are we talking like a full Dracula situation, or like a Twilight situation? Because they’re completely different scenarios.” Jason says, trying to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically because while there were a lot of things he was prepared for tonight, this was absolutely not one of them. Haley continues winding around his ankles, trying to get his attention, but Jason can’t shift his focus from Dick right now. 

Dick gives him a scathing look from where he’s sat on the floor on the other side of the room, still looking like he’s ready to bolt out of the window if Jason tries getting any closer. 

“You can give me that look all you want, but I think it’s a relevant worry. Like are you going to need to sleep in a coffin or shit like that? What exactly do I need to know here?” Jason asks, shifting very slowly further into the room, not missing the way Dick’s eyes are tracking him with an unnatural precision. 

“I already told you what you need to know.” Dick says, his eyes flickering to the wooden stake on the floor that he’d practically thrown at Jason’s feet when he first walked in. 

“And I already told you; fuck that!” Jason snaps. “The fact you even asked me gives me all the reasons I need to refuse. So, I’ll ask you again, what do I need to know ?”

“They’re dead, the rest of them, I killed them.” Dick says, not looking at Jason and instead focusing on a random spot on the wall. 

“They were already dead, Dickie, I don’t think it really counts.” Jason folds down to sit cross-legged on the floor, still not too close given the look Dick shoots him. It gives Haley the chance she’s been waiting for as she immediately crawls into his lap and tries to lick his chin. He grabs her around the middle and scratches between her ears instead. 

Dick gives him a look that suggests he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t try to argue. “From what they were saying, most of the myths are true. Blood, no sunlight, silver, stakes, crosses; all of that is true. The garlic and coffin thing is bullshit though. But that’s probably also where the main issue lies.”

“There’s a bigger issue than not being able to go out in daylight anymore?” Jason asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“I have to sleep with ancestral dirt, as in the dirt from where I was born and apparently there are consequences if I don't. Although they were a little vague on what the consequences will be.” 

“I mean, that won’t be too hard to get hold of, even if you can’t go outside during the day.” Jason says, not quite seeing the problem. 

Dick bites his lip and looks away from him again. “Jay, I don’t know where I was born and it’s not like I can just ring my parents and ask.”

“Doesn’t Bruce have your birth certificate?” Jason asks, well aware that Bruce made sure he now had everyone’s birth certificates after what happened to Jason because of his. 

“My birth was registered in France, due to my mom’s dual citizenship, when I was a few months old, but I don’t think I was actually born in France, no matter what the certificate says.” Dick says, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. It draws Jason’s attention to how pale he looks, but it’s not in a sickly kind of way, more that he looks carved from marble compared to his usual tan tones. 

Jason chews his lip and continues scratching Haley’s ears as he thinks about what to say next. “What about someone from the circus? Would they know? You could frame it as looking into your family history or some shit like that and then we can get some dirt.” Christ, that is a sentence he never expected to say. 

“Oh yeah, that could work. I’ll call Pop Haley.” Dick says quietly as he stands up and makes his way into the bedroom. Jason knows he’s still not entirely on board with the whole living as a vampire thing, but he waits until Dick’s out of sight before grabbing the stake off the floor and promptly throwing it out of the window. 

Haley barks at him and nudges at his leg as he grips the window ledge and takes a deep breath. This is… complicated in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with. “ Fuck . What am I gonna do Hales?”

Read on Ao3

[themalhambird]

Aaaaaand now, for a little post-bar-late-night-chit-chat between the boys....

It should be bliss. The bed is soft, the flat is warm, and for the first time in what feels like a decade or three Charles Whiteman can go to sleep with the absolute certainty that he’s not going to wake up bombed to pieces. But he can’t sleep, because he keeps straining for the tell-tale hum of the sodding luftwaffe. He’s still bracing for the sirens to start blaring, and the streetlights fading softly through the curtains are making his chest tighten, convincing him that right now, this street is thrusting its arm up in the air yelling pick me- actively volunteering to be Hitler’s prime target. He stares up at the ceiling for another ten minutes then gives up, rolling out of bed and making for the sitting room. This television thing is smashing- stuffed to the brim with rubbish that has no right to be so mindlessly entertaining and of course, a whole lot of good looking women in short skirts. Some really short skirts. Whiteman wonders-

The thought drops dead when he takes one step through the sitting room door, going for the lightswitch before he clocks Hillinghead. The man’s sitting in the armchair nearest the window, curtains open (that damned street light) but otherwise  in complete darkness. Reading. “No wonder you need glasses,” Whiteman says. 

“Whiteman. Can you not sleep either?” 

Whiteman drops his hand from the lightswitch without flicking it on. “Too quiet,” he says. Hillinghead does that hum-snort-scoff thing of his that Whiteman figures is amusement. 

“Too loud,” he counters, turning the page. 

“Mind if I get the lamp?” It’s not escaped Whiteman’s notice that the other man finds electric lights uncomfortable, even more than they make him feel. It makes sense, Whiteman guesses. They’re bright by his standards- he doesn’t know if Hillinghead even has electric lights in his home. 

“By all means.”  

Whiteman crosses to the right hand corner of the room and grabs the metal stem of the standing lamp. It comes on with touch. Fascinating. He throws himself on to the sofa and stretches out, angling himself so that he’s looking at Hillinghead. “Do you sleep in your suits?” he says. The man is, no kidding, wearing a tie at four o’clock in the morning. 

“No, I just- get dressed if I’m leaving the bedroom.” Hilinghead closes his book and stands. For a second Whiteman thinks he’s chased the guy off, but he just says

“Tea? Coffee?”

Whiteman hides a smirk. Electric lights might get on his nerves, but electric kettles, Hillinghead really seems to like. And the abundance of tea and coffee is something that they both appreciate: for Whiteman, a combination of rationing and supply problems can make tea in particular tricky to get hold of; for Hillinghead, coffee in particular was a rarely-consumed  luxury. And, Whiteman was convinced, the man just really likes using the kettle. A bit of a weird quirk, but everything about this situation is weird. “Sure,” he says, “Whatever you’re having.” 

Hillinghead nods and leaves the room. Whiteman gets up to pilfer his book and throws himself back down, studying the cover. Lady Audley’s Secret, the front cover declares- flipping to the title page, Whiteman sees that it was first published in 1862. When Hillinghead comes back five minutes later with two mugs of steaming black tea, Whiteman waves it at him “Reminds you of home?” he asked. 

“My wife- before we were married, we were…fifteen , I believe. Her mother said she wasn’t old enough to read it so she asked me to buy her a copy and to read it to her while she sat with my mother on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“Your mum didn’t mind?”

“My mother was ill, by that time, she would be asleep on the sofa twenty minutes after Charlotte arrived, more often than not,” he pauses. “She died before we could finish the book. We both did finish it, but separately - I read it myself and then I took off the cover and rebound it with-” he breaks off abruptly, and takes a long sip of his tea, avoiding Whiteman’s eye.

“What,” Whiteman prods. “What did you do? Cut a novel sized hole in the Bible and shove it in?”

“No.”  Hillinghead takes another long sip of tea and then confesses, sounding a little embarrassed: “...it was a collection of Hymns, Psalms, and other Spiritual Poetry.” Whiteman starts to laugh. “When my father found out he whipped me so hard I still had the bruises a month later,” Hillinghead adds. “It was his book, I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“Still,” Whiteman says. “Neat trick.” There’s genuine fondness in Hillinghead’s voice when he speaks about Mrs Hillinghead. Whiteman wants to ask more about this “Arthur” Hillinghead mentioned in the pub that afternoon, but without that 21st century daylight, and without Hasan’s and Maplewood’ casual acceptance, it feels like a topic too dangerous to be broached. Whiteman doesn’t care, per say- he’s always been one to turn a blind eye, or even shoot off a quiet  warning to the odd blokes not quite being discreet enough with the eyes they’re  making at each other. But it’s not something you openly talk about, not for him and certainly not for Hillinghead. So instead he sips his own tea and says,

“When I was a nipper, my dad caught me eating the biscuits my mum had made to take to this meeting, her and her friends got together once a week and they took turns bringing the cake or whatnot.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“He helped me finish them off, then we figured out how to make more.” Whiteman grins. Hillinghead actually laughs. “We got away with it, too,” Whiteman says. “Mum said she couldn’t figure out what she’d done differently that time to make them taste so good,” Hillinghead’s laughter grows. “If I can get the stuff together, I should make them for Esther when I get back.” His good mood dims a little. “If I get back. If she’s alright when I get back. I gave her a couple of people to go to, if - if I went out one night and didn’t come back. The bombings…y’know. Rabbi Goldstein. Inspector Calloway. Either of them would look out for her- but only if she goes. It’s been hard enough convincing her to do what I say when I am around.”

“I am sorry,” Hillinghead says quietly. “If nothing else, from what you’ve said the child sounds like she has a knack for survival.”

Whiteman snorts. “She does that.” 

They both turn their attention to their tea, each  sinking into their own thoughts. But it’s a companionable kind of silence, the knowledge that the other man knows at least a little something of how he’s feeling is a comfort to each. Whiteman hasn’t told Inspector Hillinghead that his daughter’s name’s a household one in his time, that Vera Lynn, Charlie Chaplin, and Polly Hillinghead keep Britain marching on, and he wonders if he should. He wants so badly to know about Esther. But Maplewood has said they need to limit their knowledge of the future as much as possible, or their knowledge of the immediate future of their own times, at any rate, and Hasan had agreed - citing the authority of “science fiction” in general and “Doctor Who” in particular. So mum’s the word- he hasn’t even told Maplewood or Hasan. And much as he wants to, he isn’t going to attempt to try and  trace Esther. Right now, he can just about convince himself that she’s out there somewhere, an absolute rogue of an old lady with an army of  grandchildren, like his mum had always wanted to have. He’ll take Esther to meet his mum, when this is over. If he presents a sort-of grandkid, she might stop nagging him about a daughter in law. Well, a man can dream, can’t he?

…but he doesn’t, not for the rest of that night: the first he knows about falling asleep is Maplewood yanking the blanket off him. “Oi!” he complains, and then: “...where did that even come from?”

“Budge up, I want to eat my cereal and you’re hogging all the sofa space. You didn’t grab the blanket?”

“Nope.” They both look over to the armchair. Hillinghead has nodded off, a blanket of his own and his still open book held limply on his lap. “Soft touch.” Whitehead mutters affectionately. 

“Don’t wake him up!” Maplewood whisper-hisses. 

“Hey- you woke me up, yelling about your bleeding cereal,” Whiteman counters, but he makes room for her on the sofa as he says it. “So,” he says. “What’s the plan, for today?”

[charliemwrites]

Could we please have little drabbles for each kept pet for like the moment they first opened their eyes and realised they were in a random bed and house and their keepers coming in and their first conversations?

Hey, sorry for the delay on this one. It’s a bit more complex (which is no problem!) and I really wanted to put some thought into it.

Feral:

You wake up groggy, confused. Warm…? God you’re so heavy, you just want to go back to sleep. Must have been another shitty day at work.

And yet…. You can’t get back to sleep. Something in the back of your mind is tugging at you. Telling you things are off.

Your bed is too comfy, your sheets too soft, your pillow too cool and supportive. Your eyes flutter a few times before you can finally pry them open, head still foggy. There’s movement to your side, you twist your head, halfway through a yawn when you see a blond man sitting at your bedside.

“Mornin’, little one. How are you feeling?”

You gasp roughly, scramble away, out of this strange bed - away from this strange man. Hit the ground and hear him hiss quietly. Scramble back when he stands and starts to round the bed. You need to run but your limbs feel like they belong to someone else. All you can do is press yourself into the corner, wide eyed as he comes closer.

He stops just out of reach and squats down, arms balanced on his knees. He’s huge, you realize with horror. Not just tall and wide, but built.

“Easy now, baby,” he coos and your blood turns to ice. “There was really no way to make that better.”

“Where am I?” you demand, voice rough and shaky. “Who are you?”

“You’re home,” he answers with a little smile, “and I’m Simon. I’m gonna take care of you from now on.

—

(Warning for throw up)

Shy Thing:

The violent twisting of your stomach rips you out of a dead sleep. Once moment you’re asleep, and the next you’re throwing yourself sideways, emptying its contents over the side of… whatever you’ve been lying on. There’s a voice nearby, unfamiliar, though you can’t hear what they’re saying over your own heaving.

God you hate throwing up. Your eyes water as your stomach finally starts to settle, the dizziness invading next and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Alright, lass, you’re okay. Here.”

You crack an eye open to see a glass of water being offered. Accept it gratefully and sip slowly at the voice’s insistence. While you do, you try to see past a headache-induced haze. You’re in… some kind of living room?

The alarms begin blaring one by one in your head. You don’t know where you are. You don’t remember anything. You don’t know why you feel awful. You don’t know who’s rubbing your back and speaking to you softly.

Slowly, afraid of what you’ll see, you twist to face the stranger. And realize he’s… familiar. But not familiar enough that you can immediately place him.

“There you are, pretty girl. Sorry about that, should have gone with the other sedative.”

The other….

You try to jerk away, but he just thinks you’re gagging again and is quick to support you, pulling your hair back from your face.

“I’m right here, love,” he murmurs, giving you a deceptively gentle squeeze. “And I always will be from now on.”

Quietly, you begin to weep.

—

You groan as you come to, head pounding and eyes feeling dry. A voice is gently speaking nearby, words garbled as your brain comes back online. It takes a moment, but you realize they’re speaking to you, though you don’t recognize who they are.

There’s something around your neck that’s a little itchy. You groan again and reach to pull it away, annoyed. Your fingers meet resistance as it tugs against the back of your neck. You try again - realize it’s not coming off.

Your eyes snap open, an unfamiliar ceiling above you, decorated with fairy lights. Not your room; not your bed. Your eyes slide sideways, to an unfamiliar man sitting at the edge of the bed by your hip.

“Not coming off, love,” he says, “not for a while at least.”

You don’t know what he means until his eyes flick down to your neck. Your fingers feel around it and find a metal plate with something engraved in it. You don’t know what it says, but you know what it is. A name tag. For a collar. You’re wearing a collar.

You spit out a curse and instantly kick at the man, trying to get him away, stun him. It lands, but he does little more than grunt and grab your leg, pinning it. You struggle, kick, flail, shout and scream but he quickly has you pinned and immobile, even as you curse up a storm, white-hot with anger.

“Get it all out now, darling,” he rumbles above you, “because tomorrow I’ll expect better behavior.”

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH4

Here is chapter four for Invisobang ! The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the fic! We get some more creepy Danny art this chapter! And I love the little details on the fridge!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Chapter Four

The lab was dim, an electric twilight. The lights blared overhead as they usually would but her eyes were too over compensated. Something bright, like looking at the sun burned in her vision. Her ears rang with screams. She couldn’t move. Shadowy, skeletal hands gripped her feet. Her face. His hand. Scraping her skin with rough burnt skin. Forcing her to watch. Unable to stop it. Those cold hands held her arms as she tried to fight free.

You don’t get to look away.

It’s your fault, you let him go in.

This is all because of you.

A sharp chill deeper than the cold hands drew a violent shiver. Like an ice bath. Colder.

Maddie jerked awake, that chilling feeling still in her spine despite being awake. She stared up at the ceiling trying not to think. The waking world wasn’t much better than that nightmare after all. She frowned, noticing that it was much lighter than she had thought. Later in the morning than she had thought. She sighed knowing that she wouldn’t get back to sleep now and started to push herself up.

There was a soft white glow at the foot of the bed. Its legs were gone, blended into a tail that twisted round itself to curl up. The tattered sleeve and skeletal arm exposed. The bony fingers stretched out towards her. She shifted just a bit too much of the blanket as she tried to escape the bed unnoticed. Danny’s ghost lifted a tilted head. She froze for a moment but it didn’t lunge.

It followed her throughout the house, keeping to shadows or perching on high locations. Like the top of the fridge where it had settled during breakfast. Jazz kept glancing in its direction and left quickly the moment she could. Her breakfast, only half finished.

It appeared to once again fall asleep there. She watched it. It didn’t make sense, ghosts didn’t need sleep. Or at least none of the research said they did. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe this was a feature of newer ghosts. Would it sleep less the longer it was… dead? Would anything else change over time? Was it only a matter of time before it became malevolent like the research said?

Research… research said that this shouldn’t have happened. The portal shouldn’t have turned on. They had worked hard to make sure there wouldn’t be another accident. Not after Vlad. She had to know why? Why did this happen? Why was Danny…? Was it their fault? Had they made this mistake?

She glanced to the lab door in the corner. She didn’t want to face it but she had to. Had to know why. Her hand hovered shakily over the handle. The ghost shuffled in its place on the fridge. A high pitched whine. A constant reminder of what happened. A reminder she couldn’t escape. A question that would quite literally haunt her forever if she didn’t find an answer. She took a deep breath and turned the handle.

The descent into the lab was a slow one. Each step felt massive and the bottom still shadowed in the darkness they had left it in on the day of the incident. The lights flickered on weakly, revealing the scattered chaos that had been them trying to save Danny.

She crossed to the console, that was where part of the problem was. The only part she could access. The only place she could get answers from. The portal frame itself was inaccessible behind the swirling green of their window into the ghost zone. The death trap that had killed Danny. The swirls played tricks on her tired mind, the silhouette of a mass of something beyond the portal. A shape close to the floor. Even if it was really there she didn’t want to see. The horror of a mangled, incinerated body that her mind supplied was bad enough. She couldn’t handle the real thing.

The console reported back that the portal was active. It understood that. It wasn’t a bool issue in the code. Something reporting false when it should have said true stopping her from turning off the machine it didn’t think was on. It knew it was on. That meant the emergency controls were the problem. She poured over the code trying to find the control error. A mistyped variable or something. Anything that would explain what happened.

What she found was worse. Or maybe better, if only because it meant it wasn’t them. They hadn’t caused this. There was an override coded into the emergency shutdown. An override that linked back to a start-up sequence they had never coded. It was set to initiate start-up while someone was inside. Specifically while the wiring was being worked on. Some of the wires had been bypassed to allow the machine to work even if they had been unplugged. Wires that had once been important to function were now just a trigger. Sabotage.

Jack was meant to be dealing with the wiring, it had only been passed to Danny since the paneling went on. Had someone been trying to kill Jack? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would… but then why would anyone target anyone else in the family. She couldn’t think of anyone who hated them like that. Even the Mansons didn’t disapprove of them that much. Even if she could think of someone this required a certain level of understanding of their work. Few had that privilege. Vlad from college but that would have been long outdated with how long it had been and their direct overseers from the GIW. Neither really had opportunity and reason. Had it not been about them at all? Was someone trying to halt their work and unintentionally caught Danny in the crossfire? Still she couldn’t think of who. The GIW were literally paying them, sabotage would just make it worthless. Vlad had nothing to gain, he wasn’t even in the field any more.

She frustratedly shook her head, there was no use speculating when she really had no clues. Maybe Jack would know something. If not at least he wouldn’t be blaming himself like she had been. She took a few moments to document the evidence and hide it away. Whoever it was had somehow gained access to their computers if not the lab itself, she couldn’t risk it being covered up. Maddie was not going to let this go unpunished. She was going to find who did this and she was going to make them pay.

Satisfied that the files were preserved she headed for the stairs. Jack was probably still sleeping. She’d wake him. He’d want to be told as soon as possible.

It was like a cold hand crawled up her spine. She froze, one foot on the next step, halfway up the stairs. Her heart beat faster and she couldn’t help but feel on edge. Each next step was tentative and cautious. Her eyes scanned the kitchen and fell on the sleeping ghost on the fridge top. She let out an uncomfortable awkward laugh. Of course it was the ghost. She should have realized that was what they were feeling. That natural human fear response to a ghost's aura. Of course they would be feeling that, made only worse by the very real grief.

She found Jack exactly where she expected him to be. He was sleeping but it hadn’t been peaceful. The covers around him were rumpled and his eyes bagged. He had probably been lying there awake for a good portion of the night. She knew she had been before the exhaustion took her into that nightmare.

“Jack?” she asked softly as she gently shook him. Thankfully he didn’t startle, his eyes opened awkwardly with a tired and confused groan.

“Mads? What is it?” he paused, wiping sleep out of his eyes, “did something happen?” concern drifted onto his face and was alleviated as she shook her head.

“I found something. The accident,” she stumbled over the memory of it, “it wasn’t. I was looking through the control panel files. They’d been changed.”

“Sabotage?”

She nodded, “someone bypassed the safety controls and the power. They rigged it to go off while you were working.”

“But I hadn’t… I passed it off to…” his face dropped, “if I hadn’t then… Mads this…”

“Jack, that doesn’t make it your fault. Danny wanted to help and we didn’t know. We couldn’t have,” if anyone was to know it would be her she’d noticed something had been changed, even if it wasn’t obviously malicious at the time.

“Who is then, who even had access?”

“I don’t know but now we know we can find out,” Maddie said firmly, a promise. Another promise unsaid but clear, that whoever was responsible was going to regret this.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

[birdiesaves]

THE MARTIAN ( novel by andy weir ) change as necessary !

mankind reaching out to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah. 

i’m pretty much fucked. 

they got the parades and fame and love of the world, i got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when i got home.

i would only be “in command” of the mission if i were the only remaining person.

what do you know? i’m in command.

it wasn’t your fault. you did what you had to do. 

in your position i would have done the same thing. 

it was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying.

everyone thinks i’m dead. 

ok, i’ve had a good night’s sleep, and things don’t seem as hopeless as they did yesterday.

i won’t be able to whip something up with tinfoil and gum.

fear my botany powers!

but hey, time is the one thing i’ve got.

i wonder if they'll ever find out what really happened.

i’ll spare you the math. the answer is _________

bleh. i’m going to bed

my life depends on you

i played a lot of dungeons and dragons.

i have an idiotically dangerous plan 

i suppose i’ll think of something. or die.

the answer is: i don’t know.

all i accomplished today was thinking up a plan that’ll kill me

also, i have duct tape. 

after a search of everyone’s personal items i found my answer.

that was sarcasm, by the way.

this all sounds like a great idea with no chance of catastrophic failure.

do you have any idea the magnitude of shitstorm this is gonna be?

how come aquaman can control whales? they’re mammals! 

i expected it to be cold, but jesus christ!

now, on to my next task: sitting around with nothing to do for 12 hours.

i ask for a picture and i get the fonz?

the whole world’s been rooting for you. 

really looking forward to not dying. 

please watch your language.

sorry we left you behind, but we don't like you.

you're sort of a smart-ass.

your request for “anything, oh god anything but disco” is denied.

no. you’ll fuck it up and die.

i took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.

i don’t see anything... i can hear it, but... it’s down here somewhere, but i don’t know where.

the subtle and refined “hurl my body at the wall” technique had some flaws. 

named after the greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. she's also the goddess of rainbows.

i'm not giving up. just planning for every outcome. it's what i do.

your poster outsold the rest of ours combined.

why are you such a nerd?

you should try to be more cool. wear dark glasses and a leather jacket. carry a switchblade.

you started my training by buying me a beer.

so now i have to do boring-ass experiments with test tubes and zzzzzzzzzz....

frankly, i suspect you're a super villain.

just once i'd like something to go to plan, ya know?

no? ok... what was that!? oh, nothing? ok...

for now i just want to go home.

there's always hope

are we just watching a tragedy play out?

you’ll survive this. i don't know how, but you will. 

i've defiled enough historical sites for now.

tomorrow night, i'll sink to an all new low!

tomorrow night, i'll be at rock bottom!

be a smart-ass to a guy seven levels above you. see how that works out.

i remember when you were shy

the attitude comes with the job

and by “enjoying” i mean “hating so much i want to kill people.”

there aren't many people who can say they've vandalized a three billion dollar spacecraft. but i'm one of them.

what's our role in all this? if something goes wrong, what can we do?

how do you come up with this shit?

i admit it's fatally dangerous, but consider this: i'd get to fly around like iron man.

i need you to come back in and make a bomb.

i knew that guy was a mad scientist!

i think we should just go with my iron man idea.

well if you won't let us then- wait... wait a minute... i'm looking at my shoulder patch and it turns out i'm the commander. 

give me a minute. you're the first person i've seen in ______.

i think about the sheer number of people who pulled together just to save my sorry ass, and i can barely comprehend it.

i represent progress, science, and the interplanetary future we’ve dreamed of for centuries. 

they did it because every human being has a basic instinct to help each other out. it might not seem that way sometimes, but it’s true.

yes, there are assholes who just don’t care, but they’re massively outnumbered by the people who do. 

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Parents don’t approve of Dead on main

Fentons are geniuses but not multitaskers. They’re used to giving their all to the most important thing on the list, forgetting even food and sleep, and then going back to something else.

So when they find out that Danny is Phantom, they panic and can’t think of anything else. Well, until they see the Gotham News on TV. What does it matter if their boy’s ghost or not? He's in bad company now and dating a crime lord! That's a real problem. No time to whine about their research about the nature of ghosts. Their boy is in danger! Change of priorities, urgent change of priorities!

~~~~~

So, when Danny moves in with Jason because of identity reveal, Batman prepares for various outcomes. To the flow of GIWs in Gotham, to the parents of the boy who may continue to hunt him and even to the likelihood that Maddie and Jack will accept their child without any questions. Bruce is a genius, but he forgets to include one important variable in the equation, namely his son. Despite the anti-hero’s current status, Red Hood is still remembered by the general public for his bloody methods of controlling Crime Alley. Which could definitely bother..anyone, to be honest. And it's understandable that video of Red Hood and Phantom beating Black Mask up on news did not make a pleasant first impression.

However, Bruce himself know a completely different side of his son and therefore could not tolerate the completely unfounded accusations from Maddie. Batman: How dare you! My boy is an angel. Your son is incredibly lucky to have such a thoughtful and caring partner. Jack: Yeah? I don't think so. How do we know he’s not just going to use Danno powers in his criminal plans? Maddie: We’re taking our boy home and it’s out of the question. Batman: Yeah? And how do we know you’re not just taking him for your experiments? Danny *whispers*: Um, Jay, we should go away, if you remember. Red Hood *whispers*: Yeah, yeah, I know. But just listen to it. Usually we can not get a word out of him. A temporary cure for emotional constipation is a true miracle. May your parents stay longer if, you know, they will not try to shoot you or smth else?

~~~~~

Maddie at home*aggressively filing a petition against anti-ecto laws*: I don’t care if the parental rights aren’t over the ghosts. How dare a bloody furry tell me I have no official right to take my son home and shove my own quotes in my face calling him a thing?!

Vlad who has long wanted to get rid of GIW *enters the house*: Bonjour, need a helping hand? Jack and Maddie *exchange glances without knowing if Danny’s secret should be revealed to their friend*. Vlad: Oh, for Ancients’s sake. *Snaps his fingers and goes Plasmius* Vlad: I’m also a stakeholder in it, okay? ~~~after two hours of talking~~~ Jack: Wait, V-man, if you know about Danny being Phantom, you know about his boyfriend too? Vlad: Red Hood? How could I not. I often visit Gotham for business deals. This is a favorite topic of newspapers and gossip. I don’t know who he is without a mask but I must admit the guy has a good aim, a lot better than you, Jack. Maddie: *pulls out the Ghost Peeler*

[blues824]

Housewardens reaction to mc who’s power is similar to denki kaminari’s, especially the yay side affect from overusing the lightning based power

I apologize for not posting more than once today. I watched Hamilton with one of my friends.

Gender-neutral reader

Riddle Rosehearts

You are the exact opposite of each other (besides having no rizz). You are social and easygoing, he is obviously not. He hated you at first, but you were able to smooth-talk your way into his heart somehow (again, even though you have no rizz).

Riddle always suggests study dates between the two of you since you seem to be struggling academically. You always get stressed out when he gets impatient in how long you are taking to solve a problem he has given you. You’ve shocked him a few times because of it, and you’re very quick to apologize.

When he overblotted, you were afraid to use your power since you could electrocute everyone so you made them get away. You didn’t want to hurt Riddle, but realized that there was no other choice than to use 2 million volts. As you both sat in the infirmary, Riddle got to see your YaAay side and he was scared that you went brain dead.

When you returned to normal, you had to explain that it was the drawback of using that much electricity since you had to use some of your neurons. The thumbs up was to make sure everyone knew you were alright. So you did this for him? Well, for this valiant deed, maybe he could humor you and go on the date you’ve been asking for.

Leona Kingscholar 

He’s way more of a smooth talker than you could ever dream of being. You are more social and friendly while he’s snarky and grumpy. Eventually, he fell for you and your shenanigans because he can see that you truly care for the people around you.

He’s smart, but he never goes to class. If you ask him to help you, he will refuse since he’s too busy sleeping. You’re better off trying to ask someone else, but since he’s very possessive he doesn’t like it when you ask someone other than him. Not even Ruggie.

When he overblotted, he already knew of your quirk but he didn’t know how much electricity you were able to use. When he heard you shout ‘2 million volts’, he knew that this was about to hurt real bad. In the infirmary, Leona was laughing so hard at your brain-dead side.

When you returned to normal, you had to tell him that you probably lost some neurons because of it. You had some serious power (get it?) within you, didn’t you? Well, he has to admit that what you did was brave, so you have his respect (and his heart).

Azul Ashengrotto

He absolutely despised you, but also realized that your personality and natural charm drew people in. He most definitely tried to hire you to get more customers, but you refused saying that you didn’t like to work unless it was mandatory for school.

He would then try to get you under contract by suggesting a way to cheat in exchange for your magic. However, you didn’t have magic. You had a quirk, and it couldn’t be taken away by anything besides someone else’s quirk.

When he overblotted, he came to the quick realization that being underwater was probably not the best environment to fight you in. If you remember from science class, water is an electric conductor, so he will get electrocuted. And he was, with the 2 million volts you shot out. Now he’s panicking when you are both in the infirmary since you’re kind of brain dead.

Embarrassed, you explained that it was an unfortunate side effect to your very powerful quirk. So you risked a few neurons just to make sure that he wouldn’t die because of his overblot? Well now he is kind of flustered at how much you care for him.

Kalim Al-Asim

“Corporate needs you to find the difference between Y/N and Kalim.” “They’re the same person” -Blue (2023). Nah but seriously, y’all were made from the same mold or something. He doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say when you flirt with him, so you might as well not even try.

You both are kinda not… great in an academic way of speaking. Jamil always gets frustrated at the two of you when you don’t understand a topic that he has gone over multiple times. Eventually, you get stressed and zap both of them.

When Jamil overblotted, you were afraid that Kalim would get electrocuted as well since he refused to leave without you. You told him to take cover and shot out 2 million volts. Since the Vice Housewarden had an ink monster trailing, it took the brunt of the shock. In the infirmary, Kalim is taking care of you until your brain revives itself.

It’s then that you apologize and tell him that that is what happens when you use so much electricity without giving yourself time to charge back up. He laughed and said that it was alright, then he thanked you for protecting him and his best friend. 

Vil Schoenheit

He didn’t hate you… he just very much disliked you. Sure, you had a great personality, but your flirting needed some work. You often got flustered by the things he said to you rather than him getting flustered by the things you said to him. 

The reason why he tells himself that he dislikes you (because he genuinely actually loves you) is that you’re kinda dumb. You were a bad influence on Epel since you didn’t study a lot, and if you did you kinda failed it even though you didn’t take any test yet.

When he overblotted, he knew your first move would be to evacuate everyone so that you would be able to use your quirk. What he didn’t know was it was because you were about to release 2 million volts of electricity. He had to hold in his laughter when he saw you just yAaAy your way around the infirmary.

Once you come back, you are so embarrassed as he asks what the heck happened. You have to tell him that it was a drawback to the amount of electricity you shot out of your body. It took a toll on your brain, and now he feels kind of bad for laughing. Perhaps he could treat you to dinner that he has prepared himself as a way to apologize?

Idia Shroud

You freaked him out because you were extroverted and he was introverted. You were nice, but you were eccentric and that’s what he was wary of. Plus, your flirting actually worked on him because he got flustered so freaking easily.

Since he is shy and has a crush on you, he will most likely run away before you have the chance to ask him for help on your homework. You often have to ask Ortho instead and give Idia a message through the younger Shroud sibling.

When Idia overblotted, your first move was to use your quirk at its max capacity. The problem was that it would be fighting fire with electricity. However, ink is electrically conductive so you were able to overload it with the 2 million volts you released. It came at the price of Idia freaking out at you being brain-dead for an hour.

Once you came back, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He thought it was like a fairytale where he would have to kiss you to bring you back. You were so embarrassed and had to explain that it was the drawback to your quirk. He totally wasn’t disappointed that he couldn’t be your prince charming and save you from the state of unconsciousness that you were in.

Malleus Draconia

He actually really enjoyed your company. You were so eccentric and exciting, as well as friendly and encouraging. Sure, he didn’t understand your way of flirting, but that was all okay because you weren’t scared of him.

The dragon fae would absolutely love to help you with your homework. He understands that it could be frustratingly confusing to someone who didn’t have magic, so he remains patient whenever he sees you struggle with a concept. 

When Leona overblotted, you had warned everyone to evacuate. Malleus was still there to see the electricity coming from you turn the dust that Leona created to glass. He also got hit with some of the bolts when you released 2 million volts, but he was able to withstand it. He got to see you turn dumb for a whole hour, which was amusing and concerning to him.

Once you came to, you were so embarrassed at how you were so vulnerable in front of him. He let a smile grace his face as he assured you that it was intriguing how you managed to walk up to him even while brain-dead. It meant that even unconsciously, you trusted him.

[dumbkiri]

I know this isn't on your list on fandoms, but if this game falls under it please please please can you write this request!

Valorant Omen x Fem! Reader that is a radianite from experiments and she has the power like Tracer from Overwatch! I know he has memory problems and his background is pretty much hidden. But it would be cute if he had a wife and kid that he finds on the misison in ep 8!

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: You're so lucky I no-life Valorant! And I'm a Mercy Main lmaooo. This is my first Val imagine and I rushed this out with some mistakes. It's like you said Omen is a freaking mystery!! So hopefully this is to your liking!!

Val!Omen x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

“I’m still here, don’t worry.” 

A ghostly hand caressed the hood of his cloak, her faint touch making him crave more of her. 

“This job is wearing you down, my love. I think it’s time you come back home to me.” 

He could hear the caring in her tone, he could tell she loved him dearly. 

“Just don’t forget about me. Who knows what’ll happen to me if they come for me to get to you. I can tell they’re not done with Wisteria yet and I want you to know that I appreciate all that you did for me to get me out. Must not be easy doing these missions without me.”

He needed her to keep talking. This conversation, he remembers it. He’s starting to remember her and a little bit of what he used to be. 

“What am I saying? It’s hard living in the shadows, hiding the truth away from our employers. Do you still have your wedding ring? You were smart to say that we should wear it on our right hand instead of the traditional left. Truth be told, I wear mine on the left.” 

She laughed. 

“We vowed to keep each other safe. And this mission that you’re going to take on, I have a feeling it’s not going to end in your favor. Just my radar going off. So be safe, —---” 

No, what did she call him? Could it be his name? Say more, say anything! 

“Again, be safe. Phoenix and I await your return. Oh yeah, I have a surprise for you. I just hope you don’t freak out as much as I did.” 

Omen woke up from his slumber and a ball of yarn toppled from his lap when he sprung up from the chair. Quickly the table to his right flipped over when he let his anger out for not getting more information. He looked to the source of sound that woke him up and standing there with his hands up, Phoenix said, “Yo, I apologize for interrupting your sleep, but they’re ready to leave.” 

Omen looked at the mess he made and left it to be someone else’s job to clean it up. Right now, the mission and his group waited for him. Omen knew he had to be closer to the truth because that unknown woman’s voice kept getting stronger, getting more clearer. 

Pissed off, Omen briskly walked past Phoenix and the door automatically slid open to the main hallway. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoed in the silent hallway and he became occupied with the woman again. For now, the information he got in his naps was that, as bizarre as it sounds, they were married. He married that woman out of love and they did missions together until he got her out of their organization. 

Her call sign is Wisteria. Omen passed down that information to Cypher and nothing came out of it besides the word “TERMINATED” on the blank profile. She did exist and he knew deep down she was not dead. 

Another piece of information he attained was that Phoenix is a dog. She did not know of the agent Phoenix, the one that woke him up two minutes ago. Omen could not remember what kind of dog Phoenix was either. 

“Cypher found something, Omen.” 

Iso spoke up first, his back resting on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Omen looked around and found Cypher typing away on the main computer pulling up a familiar profile. The profile of Wisteria popped out on the big screen with new information. 

“This profile updated last night and I knew you would want to know about it.” 

Cypher typed some more and multiple files began to open up with pictures of the woman from old missions to her most recent one. In her old missions, she wore an all black tactical gear with a Phantom in her hands. 

“Wisteria is an assassin that works for Hourglass. She has unique abilities that can rival your teleportation,” Sova said, “and she has a dog that fights with her.” 

“A dog?” Omen questioned and Cypher chuckled, a picture maximized from her recent mission popped up. She wore the same outfit, but right next to her with a black tactical vest on was a German Shepherd. Cypher zoomed in on the dog mainly focusing on the patch with the initials PHX in bold red, “The dog’s name is Phoenix and believe me when I say this, you do not want to fight this beast.” 

“Where is she?” 

Cypher turned his chair around and leaned over with a hint of mischief in his tone, “Protecting the boss. The recent mission in Morocco scared him so he brought his loyal dog to protect him in Indonesia.”

“Is there anything else we need to know more about?” Sova asked this time, the woman seemed to put Omen in a state of anticipation. Cypher remained quiet and his head tilted with a slight. Then he stood up from the chair with a cheerful, “No!” 

“Then let’s move,” Omen demanded. 

……

“Mama!” 

You stopped walking next to your boss and before you could turn around, a body jumped onto your leg and Phoenix let out a happy whine seeing her favorite human. You looked down in surprise to see your three year old clinging onto your leg and looking up at you with pretty [e.color] eyes. His hair was unruly as usual and you picked him up from the floor with a grin on your face. 

“Henry, how have you been? Emilia is a nice lady, right?” You sent a discreet glare at the woman in a white pencil skirt and a white blouse to match it. Emilia responded to your glare with a small bow, her stiff body reminding you that she was just following orders as well. 

“We got ice cream after I ate my food! We watched a movie too!” Henry excitedly responded and your boss put his hand on your lower back. His creepy touch sent shivers down your spine and you quickly set Henry down on the floor, ignoring his look of disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, Henry,” You apologized and pressed a quick kiss on his temple, “but I have to work right now. I promise, I’ll see you very soon.” Phoenix nudged Henry and the little boy’s frown disappeared in a flash. He scratched the back of her ears and she licked his face with a happy wag of her big tail. 

You watched with a small smile and said, “You know, Henry, since you’re here Phoenix can join you and Emilia. I’m sure the three of you would enjoy her company, she misses you a lot.” 

Henry looked up at you and wiped his face, “Really? But Phoenix is your protector, mama. She helps you beat the bad guys.” He stopped petting the dog and he looked down at the floor in sadness. “What if something bad happens and she’s not there to protect you?”

It should be the other way around, you wanted to say. If something bad does happen and those guys from Valorant are coming after your boss, you need to make sure Henry would be protected. Emilia was a skilled fighter, but against radianite agents…she  had no chance with them. Phoenix will be able to keep Henry well-protected. And you hoped the agents from Valorant have more heart than the ones working for Hourglass. 

“Nothing will happen to me, okay?” You ruffled his hair and removed a pocket off your vest. The velcro pocket connects to Phoenix’s vest when you pat it on her. “When you hear her growling low and quiet, make sure you give her a treat. She’s letting you know to hide.”

Henry nodded his head and rested his small hand on her head. You waved at him and walked away with your boss straight up to the penthouse. The elevator ride had been silent until the man spoke up, “It was a surprise to see Henry. I don’t recall telling Emilia to bring him over to the building.” 

“I did,” You said without hesitation. You slung the Phantom over your back and continued explaining, “I don’t need Phoenix to watch over me. I thought it best to hand her over to Henry.” 

“You doubt Emilia’s skill to protect your son?” 

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Do you believe she can take on Radianites?” His silence confirmed your answer. Suddenly a shiver went down your spine and it didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. His words demanded you to find the intruders, “Go on then. Find them swiftly and end their lives.” 

……

The first intruder you found was a man with blonde hair and a bow as his weapon. You recognized him as Sova, his aim never seemed to fail him especially in crucial moments. But he lost an eye for a reason. “Are you good at hand to hand combat?” You flexed your fingers then closed them into fists. 

“I have experience.” He responded wary of you. He must know about your ability to teleport or ‘blink’ as you like to call it. You ran at him and he released an arrow your way. Before the tip of it could touch your shoulder, you blinked and appeared right in front of his face. Your fist connects with his jaw making him stumble a few feet away from you. 

He drew another arrow and you blinked out of its way then reappeared in the same spot. You put your hands on your hips and said, “Please just give up. I don’t have time for this.” 

“Neither do I,” This arrow sparked with electricity and it soared towards you with amazing speed. But despite his determination, you caught the arrow in your gloved hand. You wanted to mock him until the arrow sent a pulse of electricity through your system. You yelped and tossed the arrow to the side. 

Your body tingled, the feeling of fuzziness coursing through your body. You didn’t notice that you fell on one knee until you were looking up at Sova. “Nowhere to run,” He said quietly and drew his bow, swiftly he looked away from you and pointed it at the penthouse. 

“Wait, don’t!” You shouted and jumped forward. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. Your legs felt heavy and your heart beated in your chest rapidly. You charged right into Sova and you both rolled over one another on the rails of the crane. You ended up on top of him and pointed your ghost at his forehead. 

Then you dragged your wide eyes to the penthouse seeing your boss falling down the building. You could hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears and you felt the breath leave your body as you holster your pistol. You pulled your communicator from your breast pocket and contacted Emilia. 

“Jaguar, respond.” You pushed yourself off of Sova and gripped the communicator tightly in your hand. “I said respond!” 

A crackle sparked in the communicator and Emilia’s voice came through. The woman sounded remorseful, “I have orders, Wisteria.” 

You knew what she was talking about. Her orders, you remembered them when your boss forced you back in the organization. If you failed him, your son would pay the price. Emilia was his executioner. You could feel the tears in your eyes form, your voice wavering, “Don’t do it. He’s just a boy.” 

“I’m sorry.” Emilia replied back and this didn’t stop you from yelling at her. “Emilia, he’s just a boy!” Then you hoped the command you would give would be heard by your loyal friend. 

“Phoenix, guard!” 

Sova stood up and watched you give him a tearful glare in angry silence. Then you blinked twice across the sky into the penthouse, running past Omen without stopping. Sova felt conflicted yet he informed everyone to search the building for a young boy. 

……

Omen saw flashes of his past. How he came to be and who the responsible one was. It hadn’t been enough though. He needed more. 

“Fool. She’s going to hate you.”

Then Omen felt a wave of sadness and anxiety wash over him. A woman with [h.color] hair and watery [e.color] eyes ran past him with her Phantom gripped tightly in her hands. She spared him no glance and kicked the door to the penthouse down. 

“Friends. There’s a boy in danger, I believe it to be Wisteria’s son.”

Son?

 Omen ran into the circular hallway and watched Wisteria blink all around the floors looking for the little boy. She knocked down so many doors, jumped over the bodies he’s injured prior to all of this. Then she stopped on the fifth floor and he teleported right after she ran into the room. 

He could hear a dog growling and someone muffling their cries. Omen hesitated to walk into the dark room. Could he face her, his supposed wife? Omen peeked into the room and saw her hunched over on the floor, her crying being muffled by something. Phoenix lay down right next to her with a knife wound to her hind legs. 

Wisteria must have heard him take a step and she looked over her shoulder at him. Her [e.color] eyes softened and she ran up to him, holding an unconscious boy in her arms. “Please, you must know how to help him. He won’t…won’t wake up.”  

Omen looked away from her sad eyes to the gunshot wound in the little boy’s shoulder. “I can,” Omen hesitated, “I can take him, but we have to hurry. His breathing is getting shallower.” Omen could feel the boy slowly breathing, the essence of his soul fading away. 

There was no time for hesitation and Wisteria handed her son over to her enemy. Then she ran back to Phoenix, scooping the big dog into her arms. Phoenix whined out loud and Omen could hear Wisteria apologize quietly. 

“Follow me.” 

He wasn’t surprised that she kept up with him. The urgency in her soul seemed to push him to go faster. Her son’s life was on the line and he knew he must be the one to blame. She failed her mission to protect her boss and the punishment for that was the life of her son ending. 

……

Every Valorant agent, especially the young ones, stood outside of the infirmary with bated breaths. They have heard that the mission in Indonesia was a success, but an enemy had been invited to their base of safety. 

“So you’re telling me that Omen brought her in? Isn’t this against regulations or something?” Phoenix questioned, his British accent scratching the back of everyone’s mind. 

Iso rolled his eyes and sipped on his boba drink, “It’s more complicated than you think. Omen knows what he’s doing, we shouldn’t doubt his judgment.” 

The door to the infirmary opened up and Sage and Brim walked out with a confident posture. Sage gave everyone a look and sighed, “I should know better than to think you guys can give anybody some space.” 

“So how is she doing? Is she going to try to escape?” Jett asked, still on some kind of alert. 

Brimstone spoke up for the both of them, “It’s her son and dog that is injured. And no, we heard her story and we can say that she is not our enemy. Now get back to training or else I will assign some chores for you all to do.” 

……

Omen watched the door close and he looked back at Wisteria from the shadowed corner. She looked beyond tired and he felt bad for her. He could feel her sadness and confusion. Her hand slipped away from her son’s and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Omen.” 

Her voice remained calm and he knew she was not mad at him for his intrusion. He stepped out of the shadows, his steps light and slow. She looked at him and gestured to the empty seat next to her where Brim occupied before he left the room. 

Omen walked over and took the invitation with not a word uttered. 

“I want to thank you for putting our differences aside, especially in a pivotal moment. I was so…so afraid you would turn away from me.” Wisteria admitted and Omen gazed at her. Her hands were tucked into her arms and she crossed a leg over the other. 

“Never,” He grumbled and a chord tugged at his heart. He knows his past self told her this and he needed her to recall their past for him, “I didn’t turn away from you before, I will never turn away from you now.”

She stared at him cautiously, but brushed it off to start off his interrogation.

“You must have questions about me or something if you’re lingering around the room.” 

Omen shifted in his seat and asked, “Do you know what happened to your husband?” 

Wisteria cleared her throat and followed his line of eyesight, she had forgotten that she took her bloodied gloves off. Her silver band reflects the ceiling light as she twirled it around on her finger, “Uhm, no. My former boss told me that he failed a mission and betrayed the organization. Then he threatened me to not look into the mission, so I know he’s out there somewhere.” 

Omen moved on to the next question, “You mentioned memory gaps, do you know your husband’s name at least?” 

“I do not recall. Ever since I joined the organization and got this ability, the experiments left me with blanks and a house burned to the floor. Not that it matters, we didn’t take many photos together.” 

“Oh,” Omen said dejectedly. Then he asked his third question, “And your son, his dad is the one who left, correct?” 

She took a shaky breath in and nodded her head, “Yeah, I felt extremely bad not letting him know about his son. When he went on missions, we did our best to separate our home life from his work. I was the only one who would contact him with voicemails and I hated the idea of disclosing my surprise on the phone. Little did I know, he wouldn’t return and now it’s been three years of raising Henry on my own.” 

Omen analyzed the way she held her tears back. Wisteria’s voice wavered, “God, I only hope that when I see him again, he’ll forgive me.” She wiped her tears away with a sniffle, “Do you think he would be mad at me? For not telling him?”

The shrouded man flickered in his seat and she noticed the troubled expression on his different face. “I’m..not…” Was now the right time to tell her that he’s her husband? Should he say he’s not mad? That for some reason, he could never be mad at her. She did what was right and did everything she could to protect Henry. 

“I’m not..sure.” Omen hated the way her shoulders slumped and the hope in her watery eyes vanished. She licked her lips and whispered, “Right, you barely know the guy. Anyways, why are you asking so much about him? Did he make you into this?” 

This? 

Wisteria gestured to his flickering form. His conflicted emotions messed up his concentration on maintaining his form. “No, someone else did.” 

“Well if you need-” 

“Ma..ma.”

Wisteria jumped up from her seat and brushed the hair belonging to her son backwards. She peppered his face with small kisses which caused the little boy to giggle. “Mama, that tickles!” Omen stood up and his heartstring tugged at the childish smile on the boy’s face. This little boy is his little boy. A sudden urge to protect him and the woman felt strong in his soul. 

“Wisteria, let Sage know if he needs anything else,” Omen told her and began walking away with heavy footsteps. The door slid open and Wisteria called out to him again, a pretty smile on her tired face, “You can call me [Name].” 

Omen hummed and tried her name out, “[Name].” His gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine in a good way and she blushed lightly. Then he gave her a curt nod, “I’ll let the other agents know that Phoenix needs rest and keep an eye on her for you.”

“Thank you.”

[waterfire1848]

An AU where Azula and Katara switch bodies and shenanigans ensue? Or one where Aang and Azula switch?

Hello, @wingchunwaterbender !!! Shout out to @emluckyowl and @akiizayoi4869 for their assistance!

1. The Gaang encounter Team Azula in a trickster spirit’s forest. While Katara and Azula are fighting, the spirit swaps their bodies. Both are awake and know what’s going on so they’re able to see the body swap clear as day. Needless to say, they freak out and their teams are alerted to the problem. (Aang: Katara! What’s wrong? Are you okay? Azula: Get away from me, Avatar! Sokka: Katara? Azula: I will fry you both! Get away from me! Aang: Did you hit your head or…?) However, as quickly as it happens the two swap back. Azula and Katara swear that they swapped bodies but at the same time are desperate for it to have been fake so they assume that they just imagined it. Later that night, Katara lights their campfire and Azula takes a sip of water and they’ve switched again. (Katara, in Azula’s body: Aang, whats going on? Aang: Can I start by saying that it is kinda terrifying to see Azula acting kind? Katara: Aang. Aang: Right! I talked with the spirit and…there’s good news and bad news. Azula, in Katara’s body: Spill it, Avatar. Aang: The good news is it isn’t permanent! You’ll stop swapping bodies eventually! Katara: Thank the spirits. I do not want to be stuck in this body forever. Azula: You think I want to be in your body any longer than I have to? Aang: But! From now until the end of the year, whenever you’re around each other’s elements, you’ll swap bodies and stay that way for 24 hours. Azula & Katara: WHAT?!?!)

2. Azula has no choice really but to travel with the Gaang and, of course, Mai and Ty Lee come along for the ride. For a while, Azula and Katara are constantly in each other’s bodies because Azula needs water and Katara is constantly fighting firebenders. One day, Azula and Katara manage to make it the 24 hours and return to their own bodies. (Azula: How I’ve missed bending a proper element! Katara: I’d waterbend at you but I want to be in my body for a few minutes. Azula: If I were you I’d be clawing to get out of that body and into this one. Katara: If that’s what you want… Azula: No!) That night, the two get to talking and Katara realizes that Azula actually doesn’t know how to do hair which is why Katara’s hair was never done. Katara shows Azula how to do it, making sure to not use her bending, and tells Azula that when they swap, Azula can try practicing on her own head. Later that night, Azula notices Katara shivering because she’s away from the fire and sleeps next to her (Katara: Warm. Azula: Don’t get used to it. I’m only doing this to make sure you don’t freeze to death and- Katara: Shhhhhhh. Warm blanket. Azula: Yeah. I’m the warm blanket.)

3. While the two do grow slightly more civil, there’s still a lot of fighting and when that fighting happens the two get creative with how to handle it. Katara decided to give Azula’s body a Water Tribe tattoo on her back. Azula decided to cut off Katara’s hair loopies. Katara times it perfectly when they’ll switch back and gets Azula a date with a local guy in the village. Azula throws herself into the mud (not fun for her but watching Katara try and drag her out and yell about getting mud on her hair makes it all worth it). When they meet Zuko, Katara starts saying Zuko is the better firebender, the one deserving of the throne, the better sibling, etc and Ty Lee and Mai have to hold Azula back. (Azula: I’ll kill you! Katara: You’d be killing your own body. Azula: I don’t care! You would be dead! Katara: Very harsh words considering you were so nice to your brother two seconds ago. What did you call him? The superior bender? Maybe we should talk the spirit into letting you two swap bodies next. I- Azula: I’M GONNA KILL YOU! *Mai and Ty Lee hold her back*) As revenge against that, Azula decides to flirt with literally every guy in town in the most obvious and embarrassing way possible (Azula decides not to tell anyone that one or two of the lines she used she thought were good pick up lines).

4. Over the next few months, Katara and Azula actually get good at swapping when they need to and staying in their own bodies when need be. That’s not to say there isn’t the occasional…prank (Toph pouring water on Azula, Mai lighting a torch next to Katara and Aang accidentally launching Azula into the ocean) but all in all they start to get a handle on things. The problem comes in when they’re in Ba Sing Se. Azula gets kidnapped by Long Feng and Katara switches their bodies on purpose. (Aang: Katara! Stop! What are you doing? Katara: If I switch with Azula then you guys can find her because she’ll know where her body is. Sokka: Yeah, but you’ll be down there….with Long Feng. Katara: I know, but Azula needs our help). Safe to say that after that, Katara and Azula’s relationship turns from something of a friendship to the two of them having massive crushes on the other. This is very weird when you’re swapping bodies with your crush and technically have a crush on yourself. (Mai once saw Azula practicing pick up lines in front of a mirror while in Katara’s body and Aang saw Katara admiring Azula’s arms while in Azula’s body) (Mai: This madness has to stop. Aang: Agreed).

5. The journey in the Fire Nation is still weird because Azula and Katara are still dancing around their feelings for one another. At the beach and in some villages, Katara gets hit on a lot in Azula’s body. It’s a weird split between being kind of flattered but also pissed because Katara doesn’t want some random guys hitting on Azula. During the party, the two manage to get their own bodies for the night. (Katara: Ready for a night of fun in our own bodies. Azula: I can’t go near any liquid here but other than that, it’ll be a blast. Katara: Sorry. I didn’t choose to be a waterbender. Azula: It’s okay. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something and it’s probably best to do it in my own body. Katara: Hmmm? Azula: I…I want us to, well- Chan: Azula! Over here! Katara: Ah, your boyfriend is calling. Talk later, Zula. Azula: Yeah. Later.) Less than an hour later, Chan gets Azula a drink and the two swap bodies. Katara, now in Azula’s body, has to finish Azula’s date for her which is very weird to Chan because he started the date with Azula talking about world domination and how sharp his outfit was and ended the date with Katara being pretty calm and easy to talk to. (Katara: Guess we’re stuck like this for another 24 hours. I’m sorry your date got messed up. I wish- Azula: I LIKE YOU! *Katara looking at the party which stopped to look at them for a second* Katara, grabbing Azula’s hand and walking away: Maybe we do this talk in private. Azula: I wanted to wait until we were in our own bodies but I can’t and I know it’s weird because in a way I’m saying this to myself but I like you. Katara: Azula- Azula: I know I’m Fire Nation and we’re not even if the right bodies but I- Katara: Azula! I like you too! Azula: Oh. Katara: Oh?? Azula: I can’t help it! My own body and voice just told me it likes me. This is why I wanted to wait until we were in our own bodies!) Maybe it’s not that surprising to the Gaang that Azutara officially stops swapping bodies when the two kiss for the first time (which, once again, feels very weird not only to be kissing themselves but to then open their eyes and be kissing the other person)