#They’re not even old enough to be summoned :/

[katsu28]

connection

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: when a holiday gala that neither you nor max want to be at brings two people from vastly different worlds together, you find out that you might have more in common with the four time world champion than you think you do. (3.6k)

warnings: swearing, creepy men (not max don’t worry)

a/n: day three with max :) somewhere along the way this became less of a holiday fic and more of me projecting onto my characters but fuck it we ball! 

You don’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, toting around trays of champagne flutes and painfully tiny hors d'oeuvres to fancy rich people is the last place you want to be on a Saturday night, but your friend had roped you into working this event with her and you need the extra money a holiday event pays, so here you are. 

You’re not even sure what exactly it is either. All you know is that it’s some gala for folks in a totally different tax bracket than you, and you need to be on your best behavior—which, you’ll admit, isn’t your strong suit.

Your loved ones would say your headstrong, take-no-shit personality is one of your admirable qualities, but you know they only say that because they know the real you. 

These people don’t. They don’t need to. All they need from you is whatever you’ve got on the silver platter you’re holding. 

You glide through the crowd like a woman on a mission, turning up the charm to an eleven to get rid of these beef tartare crostinis as fast as you can. 

It’s part of the job description, but apparently some of these old men think you’re throwing yourself at them. The amount of ass patting bordering on groping, and sleazy comments about how you’re young enough to be their daughters you’ve had to endure in the last few hours is astonishing, and not in a good way. 

What you want to do is slam them upside the head with your tray, but you can’t. So you grin and bear it, redirecting their leering as best you can without causing a scene. What a way to start the festive season…not. 

Soon enough you’re out of food and you’re glad for it, because it grants you even just a little reprieve when you return to the kitchen. 

“I swear to god, I’m gonna punch one of those old fucks,” You fume, having just pushed through the adjoining door leading from the ballroom. 

Your friend offers an amused snort from where she’s waiting on a refill of stuffed figs. “Yeah, don’t do that, probably.” 

“They’re disgusting.” 

“They’re entitled.” 

“Okay, so they’re disgusting and entitled. God, the nerve!” 

“Y’know what, maybe you should take your break now? Cool off a little bit before you rip someone's throat out and get us both fired?” She tips her chin towards your hands, and when you look down, your fists are clenched. You’ve got them clenched so tight your nails are starting to dig crescent shaped divots in your palm. Any tighter and you’re sure to draw blood. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s—I’m gonna go,” You mutter. You can’t afford to be dismissed from the event and lose out on the payday. The best thing to do is find somewhere quiet, somewhere you can be alone and settle your temper. 

-------

Max doesn’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, milling around shaking hands and making small talk with these people is the last thing he wants to be doing on a Saturday night, but he has obligations to fulfill, appearances he needs to make to cast Red Bull in an admirable light in this season of giving, so here he is. 

His suit is expensive but itchy, the starched collar of his crisp button up pulled too tight around his neck. What he wants to do is rip it off and go home to his cats, but he can’t.

So he grins and bears it, summoning all his years of PR training to get through the next few hours as best he can. 

“Max, there you are!” His press officer materializes right next to him, clamping a hand down on his arm. He bristles a bit at the sudden touch, but it soon dissipates as he realizes it just means he has yet another hand to shake and conversation to make. “There’s some people you should meet with. They’re from one of our smaller sponsors, but important nonetheless. Think you should have a conversation, find some common ground.” 

“Do I have to?” The question is a moot point, but Max feels the need to ask anyway. Just in case the answer has changed since the last time he asked. When all they do is fix him to the spot with a deadpan look, he sighs. “Yeah, heard. Lead the way.” 

Small talk comes easily to him at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t mind numbingly boring listening to the two middle aged men go on and on about something Max couldn’t care less about. 

To the untrained eye, it would appear that he’s listening intently, feeding into their words with every carefully timed nod of the head. A chuckle here, a smile there. All the while, he’s itching to get away. The itch grows and grows and grows until Max can’t take it anymore.

He has to go somewhere. Anywhere other than here. 

Before he can second guess his gut feeling, he excuses himself quickly and expertly, making his way carefully through the crowd and towards the nearest exit. Another glass of champagne couldn’t hurt, so he snags one off a tray on his way out, sipping on it leisurely as he searches for a place to be alone. 

That’s how he finds himself outside in this open area looking over the water, somewhere completely empty and quiet, save for the slight breeze sending tiny waves splashing against the rocks below. 

Max sheds his jacket, undoes the first few buttons of his pressed shirt so he doesn’t feel like he’s being choked anymore. His chin tips towards the sky, eyes scanning the sky above. 

The moon is out in full swing tonight, hanging big and bright in the sky, illuminating the beautiful architecture around him. Max has always liked the moon. It represents success and fulfillment and power, but also has an element of mystery to it. He thinks that, in a way, the moon is kind of like him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays here, just knows that he doesn’t want to go back inside. Finds himself dreading it, actually. Knows that inevitably he’ll have to make his return, but he’ll delay it as long as he can before someone comes looking for him.  

The sound of a heavy door creaking open draws his attention a little while later, and it makes him sigh. Looks like his time hiding out here is over. He pushes off the pillar he’s leaning on, ready to spin some half assed excuse, but then he hears it.

“Fuck!” You bite out, letting the door slam behind you. The empty area provides an echo to your dramatics. 

Max peers wide eyed around at the sudden expletive, spotting you across the way. So…definitely not his press officer. You’re already pacing back and forth, hands on your hips as you shake your head. 

He should say something, right? Announce his presence? 

He’s about to, but then you start muttering to yourself, something about old rich men thinking they can do whatever they want just because they have money. Colored by a plethora of choice swear words, you look and sound entirely pissed off. 

Probably best to leave you alone for the time being. He doesn’t know you, but he knows anger, and yours has a fire that almost rivals his. You’re also very pretty, but he pushes that thought aside for the time being. 

For the first time tonight, Max’s interest is piqued. Even so, he feels like he’s encroaching on something too personal, too private for anyone else’s ears. 

Maybe he can sneak away undetected? 

He doesn’t remember the champagne glass he’d set down until his foot hits it, and then it’s too late. Thankfully it doesn’t shatter, but the clinking against the cobblestones as it rolls away gives him up automatically. Your head snaps towards his general vicinity, eyes going wide with fear. 

Max imagines it’s probably scary for you to think you’re alone and realize that you’re not, and he’s not a monster. He has no choice but to step out from the shadows, raising a hand in awkward greeting. “...Hi.” 

“Jesus. Shit. Uh, I didn’t know anyone was out here,” You breathe, already slipping back into that carefully practiced professionality. Embarrassment and a little bit of shame runs through you at the same time as realization blooms of who this man is. Everyone knows Max Verstappen is, and you just cussed out his colleagues big time. Oh, you’re so getting fired. “Sorry you had to see that, Mr. Verstappen.” 

Max waves a hand in the air with a shake of his head. “Please, we don’t have to do that. Call me Max.”

It feels a little wrong to do so, but you oblige. “Right. Well, sorry you had to witness that, Max.” 

“Oh, that was nothing. Plus, god knows I’ve done worse.” Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better. Max steps out a little further into the light, stooping down to grab the rolling glass before it gets too far. “Is everything alright? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Does it look like everything is alright?” You shoot back, throwing your hands up into the air. Then you remember just who the fuck you’re talking to and you freeze. “Sorry! I am so sorry, I—” You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Max isn’t who you’re mad at. This has nothing to do with him at all. “You didn’t do anything, I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you. I apologize. Again.” 

Max feels his lips quirk into a smile. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had spoken back at him like that. It’s actually quite refreshing. “No need. Probably very warranted too. I’ve been told I’m quite a good listener, if you need to let things out.” 

“I shouldn’t,” You sigh, pressing your lips together. Max raises a questioning brow. “It would be extremely unprofessional.” 

“You’ve just caught me out here hiding from doing my job. I think we’re past professionalism at this point,” He snorts. He takes a seat on one end of the concrete bench nearest, tipping his head towards the empty space next to him. “The floor is yours.” 

You explain your situation as best you can without getting too heated again, half expecting Max to grow defensive of his acquaintances—they always do. 

It’s a pleasant surprise when he does nothing of the sort. Instead he calls them all assholes, along with some other choice words you won’t dare repeat. He apologizes for them, says he’ll do his best to remedy the situation, but you’re sure all it’ll do is make things worse if he gets involved. 

“So…that’s why I’m out here. What’s your excuse?” You finish, letting your shoulders drop. It feels nice to get all of that off your chest for once, and to someone who actually gives a shit. 

Max sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. It probably makes it stick up at all odd angles, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I don’t really like these things. Talking to people, making small talk—between you and me, it’s the worst part of the job. Not my thing.” 

“You like to do your talking on the track,” You supply. 

Max lets out a sharp exhale, leaning back against his palms to regard you with careful amusement. “You watch?” 

“No, but I think I’d have to be living under a rock not to know a little bit about it. About you.” 

“And…what do you think you know about me?” He tilts his chin up almost in challenge, as if he’s daring you to analyze him. 

Challenge accepted. 

“I think you’re lonely.” 

A surprised laugh escapes from his mouth. He certainly wasn't expecting it, but quite enjoys your forwardness. “Well, that was unexpected. Why do you think that?” 

“You’re untouchable. A four time champion, I’ve heard.” 

“World champion,” Max corrects, but not obnoxiously. It seems like a habit to add that distinction, years and years of hard work and dedication and training for the recognition. 

“World champion, my bad.” You nod. “Congrats on that, by the way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Like I said, untouchable. You’re the best of the best, and I’d assume even though it’s nice to be regarded as so, it’s hard for you to know when people actually want to know you, or if they just want something from you. Hence…why you’re out here.” 

“Whoa. Didn’t know this was going to turn into a therapy session.” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“No. You’re right on the nose, actually.” He shouldn’t be admitting this. He’s supposed to maintain the image that he has going for him, but something about you makes him feel like he can trust you with his true self. 

You’ve drifted closer together without realizing throughout your conversation, shoulders brushing, knees bumping. Max’s pinky moves to brush over yours. You let it happen. 

He’s got really pretty eyes, you notice, steel blue staring right back at you. Piercing the careful facade you have to put up when working these events. Some people are charming, and you’ve learned to keep yourself a closed book to keep yourself safe. But Max feels different. Max’s interest seems genuine. 

It only intrigues you even more. You don’t know him, but you want to. 

Max clears his throat suddenly. “I should go,” He says. 

You wait for him to back away, to put some space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. If anything, he looks like the last thing he wants to do is leave. 

Part of you wants him to stay, but you know he shouldn’t. The same is true for you. He needs to get back to his job, and you need to get back to yours. 

“Me too,” You reply, taking careful notice to keep your tone from sounding too dejected. “Thanks for listening to me rant. I feel a little better now.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” 

You force yourself to climb to your feet, putting that distance between Max and yourself up before you have the urge to do something rash. A flash of your mouth on his zips through your mind for a split second. 

No. You can't do that. 

“Bye, Max. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too.” 

Now is the time for you to leave—one foot in front of the other, away from him, back to reality. 

“Wait!” He calls before you can get far. You turn on your heel like you were expecting him to say something else, waiting for him to reach you. He catches your elbow, squeezing gently. “What are you doing after this is over?” 

“Honestly? I was going to go home and pass out on my couch.” Max’s eyebrows pinch in the middle. “But I could be persuaded otherwise. Why?” 

“Would you want to get a drink? With me.” 

“Not really helping the lonely allegations,” You tease, smiling warmly despite your ribbing. Max rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.  “Yeah, I’d love to grab a drink. But I don’t get off until late, so it might be a while.” 

“I’ll wait.” His answer is immediate. Firm. 

“Okay. Okay, cool,” You say, fighting a smile. “I’ll find you after everything is over.” 

“I’m counting on it.”

The night flies by faster now that you’ve got Max to look forward to by the end of it. By the time you’re freed from the shackles of customer service, you don’t feel as drained as you normally do. You’re strangely excited to get to know him some more. 

You find Max waiting for you just outside the coat check, pretty eyes searching the dwindling gala goers until he spots you approaching. He smiles, nods his head in greeting.

“Hi. Everything alright?” 

“It’ll be better the sooner we get out of here.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

Instead of a bar, he brings you back to his place. It catches you by surprise when he asks, but he assures you it’s more for privacy purposes than anything else, strictly two new friends sharing a drink and some more conversation. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting for a man of his financial standing, but a massive penthouse overlooking Monte Carlo makes sense. You do your best to tame your reaction, but it really is impressive. 

His living room is probably the size of your whole apartment, and that’s just what you can see right now. A pristine white couch sits in the middle of the room on an even whiter carpet in front of a sleek, top of the line entertainment unit, and there’s some sort of sim racing setup with a fancy chair nestled in the far corner near a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Surrounding the rig are a handful of trophies and racing helmets, each of them polished to perfection. 

Over in the far corner is a huge evergreen tree, decorated with twinkling lights and silver baubles. It looks extremely professional, almost staged, and the more you look at it, the more you’re sure he hadn’t been the one to put it up.

“What do you like to drink? I’ll make you something.” Max’s voice pulls you out of your gawking at his home. Your eyes snap over to him hovering next to a bar cart stocked with liquor, sweeping a hand along the bottles. Twisting your lips to the side in contemplation, you tell him your drink of choice and he smiles. “Nice one. I’m more of a gin and tonic kind of guy, but hey, to each their own.” 

You find your way to one end of the giant sofa not long later, aforementioned gin and tonic in his hand, your drink nestled in yours. “I did you, now you do me.” 

Max nearly chokes on his drink, brows flying high at your bluntness. “Sorry, what?” 

You look unphased. “What do you think you know about me?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what you meant. 

He takes a few beats to ponder your question, eyes squinting in thought. Then he fixes you to the spot with a decisive look. 

“I think you have big dreams. Changing the world, making it a better place—but you haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet,” He says, tilting his head. Your chest tightens at his words, because they’re true. “You’re going in circles, not able to figure out that one thing that’ll break the cycle you’re stuck in. I think once you do figure it out, you’re going to do great things. Big things.” 

Like before, somehow the space between the two of you has dwindled into nearly nothing as he looks at you so intently with those piercing eyes of his. You’re a little surprised by how on the nose he is about you, but it also makes sense. Max seems very observant. Perhaps it comes from being on the lookout all the time. 

“If the racing doesn’t work out, you might want to consider psychology,” You manage to say. 

He chuckles, nose scrunching. “Sure, I’ll think about it. Though I think it’s going pretty well at the moment.” 

-------

“When can I see you again?” He asks a while later, head lolling to face you lazily.

His hand has somehow found its way spread over your knee, nimble fingers tap tap tapping mindlessly. The first few buttons of his shirt have been undone, hair mussed from how often he'd been dragging his fingers through it.

Your drinks have worn off ages ago, but you still feel warm and fuzzy. Though you suspect it’s more from the man you’re with rather than the residual alcohol talking. 

You’ve been getting to know each other as the night goes on, swapping stories about your lives until you feel like you haven’t just met him a few hours ago. His are by far much more entertaining than yours, but Max seems to enjoy the mundane of yours. 

Part of you is surprised by his question. In your mind, you were expecting this to just be a one time thing. An easy way to fill a boring night, never to be thought about again. But Max does want to see you again. You don’t let it phase you. Instead, you raise an amused brow. 

“Why? You planning on kicking me out anytime soon?” You joke. Max’s fingers twitch, and he shakes his head. 

“No, I just—I’d like to see you again, is that so wrong?” 

“Not at all. I’d like that too.” You smile at him. “Though it is getting late, so I should probably head out anyways.” 

Max doesn’t push for you to stay, just nods understandingly. “You’re sure you’re okay to make it home on your own? Let me order you an Uber,” He says, digging his phone out of his pocket. 

“Yes, Max, I’m fine. And I can get my own Uber, thank you very much.” 

“Please, let me. I asked you here, the least I can do is pay for your ride home.” He seems like a very insistent person, so you sigh goodnaturedly, waving a hand for him to go ahead. When he’s done and a car is on its way, he turns to you, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand. “I had a nice time tonight.”

You scoff lightly, raising a brow. “I recall you saying something about how company galas are the worst part of your job.” 

“I dunno, this one wasn’t that bad.” Max shrugs, a fond smile playing at his lips. “I met you, didn’t I?” 

“Best night of your life then, huh?” You tease, winking at him. 

“It’s definitely up there.” 

“Too bad it’s ending soon.” 

“Too bad,” He echoes. He tilts his head, rubs at the smooth fabric of the sofa cushion just so he has something to do with his hand. “Looks like we’ll have to see each other again soon.” 

You have all the time in the world to unravel the mystery that is Max Verstappen, if he’ll let you. And judging by the way his hand inches towards yours until your fingers intertwine while you’re waiting for your Uber to come, he will.

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[toranoya]

“Good move,” Shikamaru muttered, watching as Ryu’s jutsu took shape, the electricity crackling through the mist and forming a barrier that effectively neutralized their enemy's advantage. The wasps worked efficiently, securing Choji and ensuring his safety while Ryu’s quick thinking turned the environment into a battlefield where they held the upper hand.

Shikamaru’s sharp eyes caught the telltale signs of coral forming on one of the wasps before Ryu shattered it with a precise strike. The mention of the Karatachi and Hoshigaki clans solidified his suspicions. “Turtle and shark… makes sense now. If the Karatachi clan’s involved, we could be looking at someone trained in advanced summoning techniques, maybe even remnants of the Mizukage’s inner circle. And if they’re working with the Hoshigaki, then water and brute force are their game.”

He adjusted his stance, his hands moving into position for his own jutsu. “The barrier’s good—it’ll keep them from getting to Choji and give us some breathing room. But if they’re bold enough to use a jutsu like coral encasement, they’re probably testing us. Looking for weaknesses.”

Shikamaru’s shadow stretched across the ground, moving with deliberate precision as he mapped out the battlefield in his mind. “Ryu, keep your barrier strong and those wasps ready to counter. I’ll focus on pinning down whoever’s moving through the mist. If we can force them into the open, they’ll lose their advantage.”

He glanced toward Choji, who was catching his breath and preparing to rejoin the fight. “Choj, back us up with ranged attacks. Keep the pressure on, but don’t overextend.”

The strategist’s mind worked at full speed, piecing together a plan even as the enemy’s presence loomed closer. “If this really is about the tree sap and the moths, then they’re desperate to stop us. Desperation makes them dangerous, but it also makes them predictable. Let’s use that against them.”

Shikamaru’s gaze locked onto the mist, his voice calm but firm. “This isn’t just about the mission anymore. If they’re connected to the old Mist regime, they’re not just after the insects—they’re after leverage. And we’re not giving it to them. Stick to the plan, and we’ll come out of this on top.”

NARU: Sound of Hidden Pain

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 344

(Slightly based off a previous Prompt in design) 

One Damian Al Ghul-Wayne is frustrated to say the least. 

It isn’t like he’s unused to kidnappings and hostage plots, it’s Gotham, but Father has rules about getting kidnapped in civilian identities. Which is what he’d gotten kidnapped as, alongside a few of his honestly idiotic classmates. (Genuinely there were a few he could tolerate, but no, the kidnappers had grabbed the most annoying and shrill-voiced of them all, and if he was alone he could deal with it as Robin but no. Ugh)

So here he is, stuck with annoying whining children who wouldn’t know a kukri from a dagger. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be upset by the time the idiots get around to whatever they needed a dozen children for. 

And look, he did halfheartedly struggle and even got a good stab in, but apparently the imbeciles weren’t completely idiotic. So here he is, stuck with several other idiots in the middle of some sort of ritual. Some sort of summoning if he’s not mistaken and damnit why is his family taking so long. 

The children are screaming and crying in the shrill ear-splitting way that he hates, and honestly he’d rather be surrounded by animals. Like cats, they were quiet! Or even a bird- 

The light turns blinding, the crackle of energy drowning out the chanting and- 

Huh. 

Huh. 

That didn’t look like any sort of eldritch deity or demon if he was being honest. Damian almost scoffed. Of course the imbeciles couldn’t even do a summoning properly. (The three feline-esque beings squished into the summoning circles didn’t look to pleased, and honestly he’s nowhere near surprised when they break out like Alfred the Cat when his siblings try to put him in a carrier)

[augustinewrites]

it’s been…a while since you and satoru have gone on an assignment together.

having two young children at home made it difficult to take off on short notice and be away for days at a time. they needed stability and routine, so the two of you had decided that one person would stay home while the other was working.

for a while, that’d worked fine. but now that megumi and tsumiki were older, self-sufficient teens who loved nothing more than being left alone, satoru had seen this as an opportunity.

you’d still been a little hesitant, but it was a simple surveillance mission. easy, right?

“water. you need to stay hydrated.” you instruct when he gets back into the car. he takes the water bottle you’re holding out, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“gakuganji isn’t even home yet,” he reports with a sigh. you hum, distracted as you check your phone. gojo reaches across your knees to pull open the glovebox, rifling through colourful snack wrappers.

“tsumiki hasn’t texted me back,” you mutter. “should i ask nanami to check in on them?”

“nah, i’m sure they’re just super busy trashing the apartment and racking up charges on the emergency credit card. ah– found it!” he pulls out a black silk sleep mask, slipping it on so it rests on his forehead.

“really?” you ask, unimpressed as he holds a second one out to you. “you’re taking a nap?”

“yeah, it’ll be easier to sneak around when it’s dark, why stay awake till then?”

“is that a good idea?” you ask, though you know there’s really no point in trying to argue with his logic.

“your fault for keeping me awake all night. late night laundry folding is no joke.”

“if you’d put it in the dryer when i’d asked—”

“can’t hear you,” he sing-songs, pulling the mask over his eyes. “you can take a nap too, you know. that old fart couldn’t get past us even while asleep.”

“i’ll pass on the nap. need to wait for tsumiki to text.”

he grumbles something incoherent that you’re sure is meant to be argumentative as he reclines his seat a little and lays back, getting comfortable and quiet.

…for about 45 seconds.

you watch out of the corner of your eye as he pulls the mask up a half inch, just enough for his right eye to observe you.

“what do you want now?” you ask.

then, with casualty akin to asking what you want for lunch, he clears his throat and asks, “do you want to have sex?”

“do i want to have what?” you ask, turning to stare at him incredulously, but your face is hot and for a split second, you’d considered agreeing.

“sex,” he repeats, patting his lap with a shit-eating grin. “we’re going to be here for a while, anyways. these seats recline way back—”

“i am not having sex in this car with you, satoru!”

he groans over-dramatically (as he tends to do). “will you at least cuddle with me then? i’m desperate and touch-starved and hopelessly in love with you!”

you make a note to figure out what cheesy rom com he stole that line from, but lean across the console to trail kisses up his shoulder, his neck. satoru does nothing to protect himself from your overly affectionate onslaught, he’s quick to catch your jaw, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

“wait. no, no, no!” he protests when you pull back, eyes suddenly trained on the house you’re meant to be watching. “you can’t just leave me high and dry—”

“he’s home!” you whisper, pressing a hand over his mouth (though he continues with muffled complaints). “pull the car a little further back before we get out.”

you’ve already summoned your shikigami as satoru maneuvers the car into the dense forestry, about to send them off when your phone vibrates in your lap.

“oh! megumi texted me,” you inform him. “he said…‘already made dinner. tsumiki is out on a date—’”

the car grinds to a halt and abruptly turns, the momentum causing your to slam into the side of the car as it peels out onto the dirt road. you curse loudly as your fiancé, devoid of all his playfulness from earlier, speeds through the forest.

“what the— satoru!”

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

GhostKing!Maddie

Reveal gone right. Good parents Jack and Maddie.

Danny tells his parents that he’s Phantom and they accept him with open arms and hearts and the willingness to change their views. With this they start their research on Ghost culture, because that’s a part of their baby’s life (afterlife?) now so of course they’re going to make sure they understand their son so as to avoid potential culture clashes in the future.

(Did you know ghosts fight as a form of bonding?! Fascinating!)

At some point in their research they learn that the method of succession for the title of King of the Infinite Realms if for the former king to be defeated in trial by combat.

They learn that Danny defeated the former king tyrant Pariah Dark.

Their little Dann-o is the new King.

But he’s just a baby! Their baby! Cry his parents.

Danny is only 14, going on 15. Even if he’s a teenager he’s still their baby boy, and he is far too young to be forced to deal with politics alongside school and all the other dramas that come with teenagerhood.

They were young once, the Fenton parents remember how major some things were for teenagers and how stressful it could be. And Danny had already been through so much with protecting the town. And they wanted to make up for what they put him through before they knew it was him. Danny says it alright, they didn’t know but they do now and that accept him and that’s what matters! And oh do their hearts ache at the memories of shooting at their son and all the terrible things they said about him while he was right there.

No, they wouldn’t allow their son to deal with everything in his own when they could help him. Somehow. How do they help with this?

Then, Maddie demands an audience with the council. There, declares herself the King.

The Observants argue that she can’t possibly be the King as she is not a ghost, nor did she defeat the previous king to take the title. And anything else that they could use to oppose the idea.

Maddie counters that as her son isn’t even legally old enough to drive yet (the age is 16 in American right?) he cannot take on such responsibilities until he is of a certain age. Jack is nodding along enthusiastically as Maddie verbally eviscerates these floating eyeballs.

Clockwork is smirking in the corner. He likes Phantom’s mother. And he agrees with the Drs Fenton. He backs her up, and says that young Daniel had other pressing matters to attend to and that yes, he is in fact too young for the full responsibilities that come with being the King of the Infinite Realms. He is so young, and still of the living being a halfa that he would require education of the Realms laws before he could officially take up the crown.

But what about Maddie? She’s fully human, how could she possibly be placed in that position then without the same training?

Clockwork smiles as Frosbite or maybe Pandora, one of Danny’s other allies, states that the council could handle things until then, and that they would have had to have waited regardless for Danny to be up to speed before he could feasibly take on the role of King and confidently make decisions without the guidance of the council at every turn. With Maddie as a placeholder she could still sign off on things or act as a figure head, at least until Phantom could take on his role as the fully realised King.

Anyway, Maddie becomes the Ghost King. Or at least temporarily while her baby boy finishes high school and can decide what he wants to do. At least this is one less thing he has to worry about.

This however results in instances of cults and all manner of people trying to summon the Ghost King for one reason or another. But instead they get one Dr Maddie Fenton.

Sometimes it’s some kids that were fooling around at a slumber party, and she warns them on the dangers of summoning unknown entities without doing proper throughout research before hand and ensuring they have the proper protective measures if something were to go wrong.

And then there are cults and magic users and everything in-between that are trying to summon the Ghost King for personal gain.

These individuals are more often than not met with the sight of a bazooka, pulled from seemingly thin air, aimed directly at them as the very ominous sound of the woman counting down echos in the air. The ones with half a brain would book it.

All of this while maintaining the midwestern politeness would be both hilarious and a little ominous.

Then one day the Justice League, or any of the other teams, are breaking up a cult ritual that they got wind of to summon a powerful being for the purpose of destroying something or someone. I’m not to fussed on their motives.

But just before they can stop it the summing is cast and the air is filled with such a heavy sense of forbidding that it makes the hairs on the back of one’s beck stand on end.

The room darkens, the shadows seemingly converging in the centre of the summoning circle. It feels hard to breathe, and there’s a hint of something other in the air around them that just keeps increasing in intensity. It feels like reality is being around them, and just as quickly as it all began a crack appears within the circle. And a toxic green (Lazarus green) glow seems out of it as it opens like the unhinging jaw of a predator. There’s a blinding flash of green and then there is a woman, judging by her build, in a teal spandex suit with goggles fastened on her face.

She scans the room in silence before her eyes falls on the heroes standing in defensive positions before her. The cultists are all tied up or knocked out, or just frozen in place because holy shit the summing worked.

It’s never worked before.

But who is this woman?

And where is the Ghost King?

The head cultist, whom was still yet to be detained, demands to know who she is and where is the Ghost King?!

Maddie smiles as she pulls out her Fenton bazooka and says, “Oh bless your heart, I am the Ghost King!”

Where this goes from here, I’m not sure. This was all I had when is tarted writing this and right now I’m too tired to think. I just hope someone likes it and if you do, feel free to add anything! And if you have any critiques feel free to tell me!

(My apologise if I leave out a chunk of information, I’m writing this in my pyjamas half asleep and just trying to get it all written down. Also I’m not from the US, and haven’t watched Danny Phantom in a hot minute, so if I got something wrong pls forgive me.)

[eddiesxangel]

That’s that me, Espresso | rockstar!eddie

@mmunson86 requested: I can’t stop thinking about rockstar!Eddie x pop!Princess! reader! & its all thanks to miss SC & Espresso! Imagine they are at one of her concerts right right & she has Eddie sit in the middle of the stage! she is about to debut this song its the last song for the night and she dances on him , for him , around him & Eddie is loosing his mind so right after the concert he wastes no time and takes her into the dressing room & the rest well you know the rest 🙂‍↔️💗

Cw: modern au, Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!princes wife reader. Age gap, Eddie is a filthy simp for his girl, soft!Dom Eddie (sir), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected), small bit of anal fingering. Talks of pregnancy.

2.3kwords

We are back baby!!! From the Wildflower universe, if you want more of the lore on these two.

“You ready, Angel?” Your husband smiles at you.

Husband, it still has a nice ring to it. You’ve been married just under a year. Giving birth to your little one put the wedding on the back burner, but you started the wedding planning once Lila Rose was 7 months old.

“Yeah, I think so,” you smile. You’re already in your hair and makeup, just waiting for your turn to get on stage.

The rowdy crowd of music festival goers grow impatient as the crew tirelessly works to remove the previous acts' set design.

“You think they’re going to like the new song?” You fiddle with the bedazzled mic in your hands.

“You kidding me? They’re going to love it!”

Eddie always encouraged your work, even if it wasn’t his thing. He loved every song because it was yours.

“All performers take their mark,” you hear the stage director in your ear.

You give Eddie one quick kiss and make your way to the stage.

The set went perfectly, but the riding anticipation of the new single was still in the back of your mind.

“Okay, Coachella! I’m going to need you to help me out with something.” You smile. “This is my last song of the night, and it’s brand new, so I’m a bit nervous.” You pace the stage.

“Now I have a special someone backstage with me, and I know he won’t come out unless we pressure him, so I’m going to need your help, okay?” you walk over to side stage and look him in the eye

You knew he would kill you, but you needed him for the extra moral support, and you kinda had a plan up your sleeve.

“Come on out, Eddie, baby,” you smile, and the crow starts to chant Eddie’s name.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit proud of you for getting what you wanted. Eddie stocks onto the stage, giving a small wave, not wanting this to be about him.

“Sit,” you speak into the mic and point to the fold-out chair in centre stage.

Eddie sits, and before he can protest anymore, he hears the first few beats of the music.

“Nice,” you sing in your breathy tone your husband can’t get enough of.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo

Eddie really loved that last lyric. He thought it was very clever of you because he knew it was about him and how he eats you out.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso.

You and your dancers moved to the beat without missing a step.

I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy

You turn to your husband and wink.

And he won't stop calling

You take a few short steps around to the back of the chair.

When they act this way

You lean in from behind and run your free hand down his shoulder to his chest and back up.

I know I got 'em

You swear you hear him moan.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

You twirl your hair around your finger, then summon Eddie to come closer.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

He gets up and follows you like a puppy as you strut across the stage. My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen.

You flick up the edge of your mini skirt, and Eddie can see the lacy underwear beneath your stockings.

He needs this song to be over so he can finally have you. You've been rehearsing for this moment for months now. Stressing over it and with the baby, you and him have had hardly any time to have sex like you used to.

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Eddie is back in his seat by the second bridge, and your dancing is driving him absolutely crazy. You know what you are doing. He can see it in your eyes; your mischievous gaze tells him you had this all planned out. You probably faked being nervous just to get him out here so you could seduce him.

Eddie was losing the battle of not getting hard in front of the thousands of fans watching. He couldn't help it; his bombshell of a wife was so irresistible.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Eddie listened as you thanked the crowd. He took your hand and yanked you off stage once he thought it had been enough time for your final bow, letting you soak in this moment before he whisked you away.

“Eddie!” You squeal while trying to keep up with him in your platform go-go boots.

“Gotta have, you know,” he growls in your ear so only you can hear.

“Really baby? I worked you up that much?” You swoon.

After all this time, Eddie still makes your heart flutter. You never thought soulmates existed, but when you met Eddie, all that changed- especially after having his baby. The way he was with your newborn had you wanting to jump his bones before the doctor okayed you for sex again.

The trailer was close but not close enough in Eddie’s eyes. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on Eddie’s brow, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the hot Californian sun or the fact that his cock was about to bust through his jeans, and he was trying not to have anyone notice.

“Get out,” Eddie commands as the trailer door swings back. Eddie opens it so hard.

Your team looks startled as you and Eddie enter the small space.

You give them an apologetic look and they place down their stuff and leave you both alone.

“You were perfect up there.” he pulls you in for a kiss. “So fucking proud of you.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mmmm, thank you, baby”

“You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, Angel?” Eddie shuts the door behind them and locks it before drawing the blinds.

“Is that right? Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, it is, Mrs. Munson.” Eddie pulls you in by the waist for a heated kiss. Still, after all this time, you both were so greedy for one another. Nothing can ever break the bond between the both of you… not again.

“God, Angel, you were a goddamn tease on that stage; you got me looking like a simp.”

You pull back, curious as to where he had heard that term.

“Simp?”

“VR tells me things.” Violet Rose, Eddie's oldest, whom you’ve adopted, is now twenty two.

“Okay, old man,” you giggle, and he walks you back to the sofa in the trailer’s back corner.

“Enough talking, more kissing.”

Your tailored dress, made just for you, was not easy to strip. Eddie was having a hell of a time trying to get out of it, only to groan when he saw your pantyhose as another barrier.

“Why do they make these things so tight.” He grumbles as you giggle at him.

“You weren’t complaining about it ten minutes ago,” you snide.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” He smirks.

“No, Sir,” you put your lip.

Finally, once you are out of your garments, Eddie kneels right between your legs.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt your knees,” You push his long hair back. “Why don’t we go -OH - to the couch” Not listening, his lips are already on your throbbing cunt.

The plus from your clit was relieved as Eddie’s tongue grazes it before quickly lapping and flicking at it.

“Oh fuck!” Your legs buckle, and your grip on Eddie’s hair tightens. He growls at the pain in his scalp, but he loves it all the same.

You feel his tongue go down, then to the left, then the right and finally circles your clit.

“Mmmmm, tastes so good, Angel”

“Please don’t stop!”

You feel Eddie's skilled tongue glide through your slick folds before you feel his hands nudge your legs, signalling to open them wider.

Eddie’s thick long fingers pump up into your warm wet cunt until you’re losing the battle to say upright. Your body is hunched over as Eddie sends waves of pleasure through you.

“Mmmm, that’s it, that’s my good girl. Cum for me.” The pads of his fingers graze you g spot each time. He doesn’t stop until he knows you are satisfied.

“That was a big one, baby; singing for me, go, you all worked up, didn’t it?” He stands and leads you to the couch until you’re lying down, legs spread nice and wide for him.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum as you watch Eddie finally strip.

His body never looked better; he wants to be the healthiest to watch your baby grow up and maybe put another one in you soon.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir, more than ready.” And it was true; it’s been a few weeks since you’ve had time to have sex, and it was long overdue.

All the pent-up sexual tension between the both of you is finally being released when Eddie's hard cock slides into yours effortlessly.

“Fuck I missed my pussy, baby girl.” His head tilts back, and you take the opportunity to suck on his neck, just as you know he likes it.

“So fucking beautiful” his cock pumped in and quickly backed out.

The tip of his dick ring never failed to make you see stars. Already you’re a moaning mess for him, cock drunk, and it’s not even been a minute yet.

“There she is, there’s my good girl” Eddie palms your tit as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. He watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, blissed out by how he makes you feel.

“More” you moan.

“More what?”

“Sir, please, I need you. Baby, I love you. I love you, please, I need it.” You babble.

Eddie's heart swells. He loves you so much he would give you the moon and stars if he could. Hearing you love him, especially when the two of you are like this, really makes him kick into high gear.

He will never take for granted those three words when you say them to him; your past is too painful not to.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“Fill me.” You pull him down into a kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth.

His hand that was planted on your waist is now travelling lower to your ass.

“This what you wanted, baby? All of your holes filled?” His finger teases your puckered hole.

“Yes!” You gasp.

“I think that can be arranged. Suck” he points his finger at your face, and you take as much of it in your mouth. You suck on it until it’s dripping with your saliva.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you and play with your ass hole.” His finger slowly glides in, and he pumps it to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, I love you.” Eddie can’t help but to fuck you frivolously. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the thin walls of the trailer.

“Please, please, please.” You were so close you could feel the pit building.

The pressure of his piercing brushing your g spot with every heavy thrust, each shape snap of his hips making him slide deep inside-mixed with the pressure of his finger pressed deep inside of you was bringing you to the edge of bliss.

“You going to come when I tell you to, Angel?”

“I can’t-can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls.

“F-fuck,” you curse him. You can’t hold it for much longer.

“Mmm, that’s right, babygirl. You’re going to listen to what I tell you.”

Your pussy naturally grips Eddie's cock so tight he almost loses it.

“Please, Sir. I want to cum. Please!”

The look in your eyes has Eddie reeling. The way you beg and submit to him, his perfect girl. His perfect wife, the perfect mother to his children.

“Cum” he growls, and you let out a cry of relief.

With your arms wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, you pull him down into you on instinct. His body weight pressed into you, and your cunt grips his cock so deliciously Eddie is coming with you.

“Shit, baby girl, I think you nearly killed me that time,” Eddie chuckles as his legs give out and his total weight collapses on top of you.

You giggle dumbly as Eddie plants kisses all over your face.

You look up; his face is red and sweaty, but he’s never looked more beautiful.

“That was long overdue.” You sigh with relief.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles with you.” “Let’s get you cleaned up, mama.”

“You trying to knock me up, Munson?” Deep down, you’d love to have another baby.

“What if I was?” He looks back over his shoulder, catching you checking out his juicy ass.

“Then I’d say we should keep practicing.”

“Wait for real?”

“You’re no,t getting any younger, “ you giggle.

“Oh, you little minx, you’re in for it.” He runs back towards you, lifts you off the couch, and plops you in his lap.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh as Eddie tickles your sides.

“You really want to start trying?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Guess it’s time for round two, gotta make sure it really sticks.”

Tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @niallerlover8022 @eddiesguitarskills @all-dogs-die

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@callsignraver @allthingsjoeq @ceriseheaven @amira0303 @mmunson86

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[luv4fushi]

cw: nsfw. fem!reader & afab!reader minors dni (block my nsfw tag) ageless blogs dni

thinking about 20-year-old megumi who looks so much like his dad that of course the boy has girls staring at him everywhere he goes. he’s got the same brownish green eyes as his dad, the same dark hair, and the same face—and it doesn’t help that his stoic personality is like a flame to a swarm of moths. he’s tall, well-built from his years of training, and essentially a carbon copy of toji—maybe a little bit of gojo, too, because he’d been raised by the eccentric white-haired sorcerer.

“you look so much like your dad,” gojo says every chance he gets. he shivers and then scowls st the memory of toji.

everyone else claims he looks like gojo—only because he’s so pretty that it makes sense to be compared to the man who had raised him and not the sorcerer killer.

but what everyone doesn’t know is that megumi isn’t a carbon copy of toji or gojo. he’s got one thing that sets him apart physically and it’s his hands.

megumi’s hands are gorgeous. his fingers are long and a little thin. they’re a bit veiny too, which makes you drool even though you hate to admit it. he’s got piano hands and you shamelessly stare at them whenever he taps his fingers on surfaces. his cuticles are always moisturized and his nails are trimmed—he claims it’s because his shadows need to be accurate in order for him to summon them, but you know he’s just secretly into self care.

he lets you paint his fingernails black, admiring the way your tongue sticks out in concentration as you try to not get any nail polish on his skin.

when he holds your hand, he’s always rubbing patterns into your skin. it’s like he can’t physically touch you without savoring you as much as he can! his hands are everywhere—your hips, your arm, tucked on your lower belly for some odd, perhaps primal reason.

he likes to move you out of the way (you’re usually unaware of your surroundings when he’s with you because he’s just so safe to be around!) by gently pulling you to his chest with his smooth fingertips, his hand being large enough to nearly cover your entire side.

when you cry, he brushes underneath your eyes with his thumb, wiping off your salty tears before kissing you. his hands are large enough to cup your face and cover it at the same time, which he likes to do when you’re acting a little difficult.

megumi likes to wrap his hands around your neck, not ever squeezing enough to cut any airflow—he just likes the way his fingers look when they’re gripping your smooth skin. he likes trailing his fingertips over each of the possessive bruises that he tends to leave on your sensitive skin. it’s like a reminder to him (and you) that you’re his.

you love the way his hands look when they’re digging into your skin, squeezing your plush thighs as he greedily laps up your release. your cunt spasms at the sight of his fingers wrapped tightly around your thighs. “n-no more! ‘s too much, gumi! can’t—!” he only caresses your skin and forces your legs apart with those pretty hands of his, holding your soft thighs apart. your skin dips around his fingers and the view is so pretty that you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t release all over his face again.

your favorite sight—and his too—is when his long digits are pumping in and out of your cunt. you’re breathless and mewling his name, watching as his fingers break you down into mush. “cum for me, baby, i know you can do it. such a greedy girl sucking my fingers right in, hm?” sometimes he wishes he could see the way his fingers curl inside your body, pressing up against the spots he knows has you shuddering for him. after you finish from his fingers alone, he loves to slowly pull his them out, admiring the glistening slick coating them. “see this, baby? just from my fingers, you sensitive little thing. do you like my hands that much?”

you love megumi’s hands. that’s one thing about him that’s strictly him—you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

[nothomegal]

"Nothing, just (Y/N)"

(Pyramid Head(s) x GN! Reader NSFW)

Minors do NOT interact!

Summary: wondering through abandoned semi-ruined places is great to hide and get lost, and in your case the latest happened. But don't worry! Because you were lucky enough to bump into your lover... Or not. Whoever, or whatever this is, it really looks like your monster, yet it's different at the same time... Huh, I wonder what will happen when these two do meet face to face... Huh, I wonder what verdict awaits you.

Warnings: non-con touches at first, brief mentions of nipple play, oral (Pyra receiving), references to double penetrations (but you can interpretate it differently since the reader is gender neutral).

Word Count: 3.9k

This idea popped up after I remembered that Pyramid Head has two different designs (one that appears in DBD and Silent Hill 2, and the other one from the movie and Silent Hill Homecoming, y'know where he has a more pointy helmet and exposed torso)

I usually describe the DBD/original version (though my dummy self been using gifs with the other design hashsha). But still, why don't we present our lil' (Y/N) the other one? 🤭

They’re lost. (Y/N) let out a long tired sigh as they keep walking through the long dark hallway of what appears to be a school.

They begin to regret their decision of going deeper, it probably would’ve been smarter to just chill in one of the classes until the ‘newcomers’ leave the area, buut… Uh, last time they hid in a room they ended up kidnapped by the group they tried to avoid so yeah… Not really a fan to repeat that experience.

The school was dead silent most of the time, apart from the sound of their footsteps or the occasional shuffle or hiss from a Creeper. For anyone new, this would be an unnerving place, but for (Y/N)? Oh they’re chilling with the peace n’ quiet around them. Sure, silence is not always associated with safety and there is always the possibility of something lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. But in (Y/N)’s case it’s not possible, no creature is dumb enough to even get close to them, not to mention hurting. They can’t help but to chuckle to themselves, they’ve been in this place for quite a while, probably months, maybe even a year! Or two? And no matter how much time passed or will pass, they still can’t believe the fact that one of the most fearsome creatures of Silent Hill took them under his wing, keeping them safe and making them feel something more than just a piece of flesh to use or kill.

Sigh, they probably have the dumbest lovesick face they’ve ever made, like some teenager thinking about his crush, but can you really blame them? Who the hell wouldn’t get all giddy with a creature like Pyra? And speaking of him, they probably should find an exit faster before he gets tired of looking for them and just tanks his way through the building-.

Or maybe not, because the sound of metal scraping the old tiled floor of the school and the erratic heavy footsteps resonated from one of the hallways. Huh, each day they start to believe that they somehow summon Pyra just by thinking about him for long enough.

With a little smile (Y/N) makes their way towards the sounds, happy to have their lover back with them after him completing his hunt and punishment.

–”Hey big guy! Sorry for the trouble of having to look for me in here. Just wanted to avoid the incident from the last ti- ”–

(Y/N)’s voice died and they froze in place when they met the source of the sound. Yes, it was the known pyramid headed beast, but… It wasn’t their pyramid headed beast, it wasn’t Pyra.

The monster in front of them was different; his vest, which appeared to be stitched,  was only covering everything below the waist, leaving the torso completely exposed. The helmet was different too, it was more… Pointy? The edges were sharper and the shape was more triangular and detailed with additional metallic pieces.

This other beast and (Y/N) remain completely still, staring at each other in heavy silence, the monster’s metallic breathing being the only audible thing. (Y/N) gulps nervously, both confused and afraid. What the… Who is this creature?! Why does it look almost like Pyra?! Is this another executioner? Wasn’t Pyra the only one? Are there more monsters like him? Then why did they never see it before?!

Their internal freak out paused then the other beast let out the familiar low metallic rumbling, which wasn’t as low and deep as the one Pyra emitted, but that fact didn’t make the sound any less intimidating, especially when the monster seemed to grip the handle of his large knife tighter.

–”W-Wrong executioner, m-my bad!”– you peep out before taking off running.

They sprint down the hallway, their adrenaline skyrocketing when they hear the known bulky footsteps and scraping noises behind them. They haven’t felt this much terror since being chased by Pyra himself. Sure the group of shady men was scary too but their demise was inevitable. In the case with Pyra… Well, if the executioner chooses you as his target, there is no chance to escape your fate, only delay it.

But- But this time it will be different, right? Their Pyra is still somewhere around, right? It’s unclear what they're hoping for, or what they want to happen when both beasts face each other. All (Y/N) knows is that the true safety has always been in Pyra’s arms, and they have no other option but to go there if they want to have the slimmest chance to survive this chase.

Despite trying to find the exit, it feel like they only get themselves deeper into the building, all hallways and rooms appear to get darker and more rotten, it's like they're decending deeper into hell, closer to their demise, further from their salvation...

But the light of hope was recandled when while turning a corner (Y/N) bumped face first into a firm and broad torso, which didn't even budge at the impact while they already had landed on the floor right on their butt. They rub their nose after the impact and shoot their gaze up, their heart almost jumping through their rib cage after recognizing the known pyramidal shape of the creature’s head, thinking that the beast chasing after them somehow outsmarted their panicked brain. But when the creature kneeled down they instantly relaxed as relief flushed through them, despite the monster’s large form menacingly towering over them and engulfing their smaller frame with its shadow.

–”Pyra!”– you exclaim both happy and relieved as you scramble right into his arms.

The monster instantly wrapped his large arms around (Y/N), his own body tensing up, as if feeling the distress of his human and knowing they’ve been chased by something, fact that clearly angered him. When the sounds of metal scraping the floor and slow heavy footsteps began to resonate from afar, (Y/N) tensed up even more.

–”Th-There it comes… It- That thing, it looks like you!”– you warn him as you grip his vest tighter.

Pyra remains still for a moment as the noises get closer. After a while, he slowly stands up to his full height, lifting (Y/N) with him and putting them back to their feet to then gently push them behind him. The mentioned person carefully peeks from behind his large form, both afraid but also curious to see if it’s really another creature like Pyra and it actually exists or they just officially went coconuts and somehow imagined it all. Their doubts were dissolved once the other creature appeared from around the corner, his pace slow and unhurried. The monster froze in place as he stared at them, Pyra froze too and stared back. The atmosphere suddenly turned… Weird, not tense and heavy as one would expect, just odd and bizarre.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t feel at ease at all. There is a reason humans fear the unknown, and that’s the main factor that keeps the mentioned person on high alert. They have absolutely no idea of what to expect to happen next, are these two about to fight? Will the other creature turn around and leave? Will it somehow change Pyra’s mind and he will kill them? Are they in danger? Should they run? Wait? Pray?

A breathless gasp escaped their lips when the other creature began to move, slowly making his way towards them two. What freaked and confused (Y/N) even more is the fact that Pyra doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, he remains still in his place with absolutely no intent to stop the other monster.

When the second beast got way too close for their liking, and Pyra was still doing nothing about it, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath out and stepped away from their lover to then begin to back away on their own.

–”No. N-No stop, that’s-...”– you swallow nervously as you shoot a pleading glance to your beast. –”Pyra…”–

But he doesn’t react to their pleas, he doesn’t even look at them… And when the other beast was right next to him is when he finally does move, slowly turning around, and just like the other executioner, he begins to slowly walk towards (Y/N) in the same menacing manner, not like they’re his lover, but another victim to punish…

This scene broke (Y/N)’s heart into numerous tiny pieces, is… Is that it? Is Pyra really going to just… Kill them here and now? After all this time they’ve been together he… He’s just going to throw all that away like it’s nothing? Like they are nothing?... Silly them, of course he will, he’s Pyramid Head, the executioner, an immortal and eternal being created to punish and kill. Who are they to him?... They are nothing, just a little meaningless human… Just (Y/N).

The moment their back collides with a wall, their survival instincts kick in. Even though deep down they knew that their fate is practically written on their forehead, their mind was focused on the most primal desire that a human can have in case of facing danger; run away.

And so they do, they obey their instincts. When they notice an opening between the other monster’s large body and a wall to squeeze through, they bold forward with no care in the world and miraculously dodging his arm that attempted to grab and stop them from escaping. They let out a breathless chuckle out of shock that they actually managed to dodge that by ducking, such a silly maneuver actually wor-.

Suddenly something gets a hold of the back of their shirt and yoinks them back, right against Pyra himself. He holds them tightly against his chest, one arm being more than enough to keep the panicked human in place despite all the desperate struggles to break free. (Y/N) is beyond terrified now, they feel Pyra’s arm tighten around them while the other one gets so close that he ends up pressing his body against their front. Now being basically sandwiched and completely immobile, (Y/N) is feeling like passing out at any second. In any other occasion they’d be so flustered and aroused by this, but now? Oh their poor mind is being flooded with terrible images of how the two executioners will end them, the newer thought worse than the previous one. They’re shivering like crazy, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the wave of pain to come as the monsters will begin to skin them alive…

But after nothing happening for a solid minute, (Y/N) gathers enough courage to finally open their eyes and see what’s going on and why these two beasts are not doing anything. The instant they peek up, the two monsters let out that famous amused rumble, which due to the closeness, made (Y/N)’s whole body vibrate, super weird (and kinda pleasant) feeling.

(Y/N) was about to yell in anger, thinking that these two are seeing their fear and pain of the betrayal as something funny, but such chance was lost the moment they began to feel big hands roam around their body, caressing and feeling every curve through their clothes. The gesture wasn’t aggressive or mocking, but affectionate and loving, just like Pyra’s actions towards them on a daily basis.

Now (Y/N) is confused and quite dumbfounded. Didn’t these two have the intention to murder them? Why is this other monster suddenly so docile? Are they truly safe? Wha-

A shiver ran through their body when the executioner in front of them managed to slip his hand under their shirt, tracing the rough yet warm skin of his bare palm through the softer skin of their abdomen and chest. They let out a surprised squeak when the hand reached higher and brushed against their nipple, the contact causing (Y/N)'s body to shiver, and it only got worse when the beast began to rub it as it let out an amused purr. Another whimper escaped their mouth when Pyra’s hand made its way through their inner thigh, squeezing and rubbing their flesh gently until it stopped right between their legs, his movements getting progressively bolder and suggestive with each little sound that left that pretty mouth of theirs. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized what the two monsters are trying to initiate.

–”Wa-Wait no-! I- I’m- I’m n-not ready for th-this!”– you stammer nervously as you try to clumsily wiggle out their grasp, face already red and flustered. –”You- You two s-sto-!”–

They have no chance to even finish the sentence as something warm and wet suddenly entered their mouth, making contact with their own tongue, which suddenly turned the action into some very sloppy kiss. Their struggles also lead to nothing, both monsters only squeezed them tighter against each other, reducing (Y/N)’s mobility even more. This continues for a couple of seconds, until the "kiss" finally stops and (Y/N) is finally allowed to breathe again, their mouth completely wetted with their and Pyra’s saliva. As they pant like a dog, trying to recatch their breath, they feel Pyra’s hand travel up to their face and wrap his hand around their face, rubbing their cheek lovingly as his tongue playfully wiggles in front of them.

(Y/N) suddenly gasps shakily as they feel something hard being pressed against their front and back, and by the way both monsters growled, they knew exactly what it was and what’s about to happen.

They shouldn't want this, they should try to get away and put a stop to this, they really should… But it’s hard, it’s hard to think straight when their mind has been poisoned with their own arousal and lust. Their logic side is saying no, but their whole body and most of their mind is screaming yes.

As if reading their mind, both monsters made a pleased sound and the next thing they know is that their body was swung over Pyra’s shoulder and taken somewhere... But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t get completely blown up in a moment, and Pyra’s big hand squeezing their ass and thighs is a reminder of that. They’re then brought into one of the classrooms of the school and their body is placed on one of the tables, just like the little delicious treat they were.

From their spot, (Y/N) stares at the two beasts with half lidded eyes and lovesick gaze. It’s like being under some sort of spell whenever things get heated between them and Pyra, and now that there are two of them? Oh, it’s like being hypnotized to act like a slave of their own lustful desires.

The two monsters were kind enough to actually undress (Y/N) (instead of destroying their clothes). And now, fully exposed and being in all fours, they silently observes as both executioners position themselves. The other beast is right behind them, one hand placed on their hips and the other one pulling down his vest, revealing an already fully erect and hard cock, tip brushing along their skin, making them shiver in anticipation. Pyra was right in front of them, vest fully opened and pants pulled down too, his cock just as erect and needy for his sweet lover, one gloved hand placed under their chin as his thumb rubs their cheek and lips lovingly, as if saying “you’ll do such a good job drear”.

The calm lasts for a couple more seconds… And then the whole world goes down without a warning. The beast from behind slams his whole length almost and ones, barely giving (Y/N) time to adjust to his size. Pyra also nearly choked them when he pushed the tip and part of his cock into (Y/N)’s mouth, but he was kind enough to wipe their tears of pain and pleasure.

This was both a torture and a treasure, the roughness and feral neediness of these monsters made (Y/N) feel a certain type of way. The knowledge that two powerful beings craved for them, THEM, so so badly made them feel both very special and flustered, just what did the executioner see in them to make him want their body and soul so much? Crave for them both sexually and emotionally, want nothing but to be close to them and keep them to himself, not just like a trophy or a pet, but as something worth to worship.

And they did, they really felt oddly worshiped despite being absolutelly destroyed by them. Feeling the one from behind dig his fingers into their flesh as he pushes into them, trying to bring them closer to his own body with each thrust and the distorted rumbles and groans he makes when the contact between their skins is missing, even for a brief second, only proves how much he wants them close. Pyra was too showing the effect they had on him, saliva actively dripping from that little hole in his helmet where the tongue would come out, hand placed in the back of (Y/N)’s head as he fucks their mouth and throat, and the fact that he’s not thrusting with more force also proves the care he has for them. They both could be rougher, they both could be more selfish, they know they totally could destroy them if they really wanted to… But they actively chose not to, because even in this feral and lustful state they’re in, they care for them, they care for their little sweet (Y/N).

The action doesn’t last too long, as (Y/N) is barely holding themselves back from coming ,and eventually it got too much. The second the monster from behind felt their release, he let out a growl and quickened his pace. (Y/N)’s body began to shiver, wobbly limbs barely supporting their own weight due to the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the lack of oxygen, air they can hardly get since Pyra’s pace got faster as well. When they eventually collapsed, their body miraculously remained in place and it all thanks to the beast behind them, who caught them and held them up with a single large hand placed on their chest.

It was hard to keep up, hard to keep themselves from coming again, but they must refuse, must holdup, must wait for the two monsters fucking their brains out to come before allowing their own sweet release again. And just as they reached their absolute limit, so did the two beasts. The taste and the sensation of their release drunken (Y/N) completely, eyes rolling as they let out a weak muffled moan as they're sent both to heaven and hell at the same time, their inside burning and their skin shivering under the cold sweat.

Once done, Pyra takes his still hard cock out of (Y/N)’s mouth, allowing them to take all these needed gulps of air as the white liquid drips from their mouth and down their chin, even after trying to swallow it they still got messy, a picture that their lover absolutely adored.

Though (Y/N) was quite tired, they know this is not the end, this is just the beginning˜.

They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly lifted and their back is pressed against the solid and warm exposed torso of the beast behind them. The table they were previously on had been flung across the whole classroom with great force and the next thing they know is that they’re completely immobilized again by Pyra’s body pressing their form against the monster behind. And soon enough, (Y/N)’s mind is being turned into mush again when the beasts begin to move again, their thrusts strong and hitting all the sweet and most sensitive spots of theirs.

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, knowing exactly when to thrust and how to move so their helmets won’t collide. It was both freaky and fascinating to see, which left (Y/N) thinking if Pyra is really as simple as they initially thought, or is he the embodiment of something way more sinister-.

Their thoughts melted into a mass of letters and blurry shapes at the sensation of the rough fingers of the beast from behind rub their sensible nipples again, sending violent jolts and shivers with the mildest movements. Now (Y/N) was a complete panting and moaning mess, though their sounds were slightly muffled by Pyra’s broad chest, even slightly suffocating them at times with how close he got (not like they mind it). They always cringed at how vocal they can get during sex but they also knew better than to try to quiet the noises after learning the hard way how much their monstruous lover adores to hear them.

This fucking continued for a good ammount of time, (Y/N) already lost count of how many times they came, they have absolutely no clue! All they know is that they’re like in heaven, seeing stars and impossible colors of light flash before their eyes with each release just to then fall back into their mortal body and suffer the consequences of all the overstimulation and the generally overwhelming sensations. How are they still awake and breathing? They have no idea, but it did kinda boost their ego to know they’re tougher than they thought.

Eventually, the thrusts come to an end after the two monsters came one last time, causing (Y/N) to hide their face deeper into Pyra’s chest as they sink their fingers into his flesh and scratch his scarred skin with their nails. Even after coming and filling them up real' good yet again, the executioners remained in place, not pulling away from (Y/N) and still holding them against each other.

After regaining part of their breath, (Y/N) pulls back and their eyes wide at the sight of all the marks they left along Pyra’s broad chest and abdomen, both scratch and bite marks. The executioner from behind also received some lovely scratches on his body as well, when did they even manage to make these? None of the monsters seemed bothered by the marks though, and their hands roaming over (Y/N)’s body is a clear confirmation of that, showing just how pleased they are with their performance, even if they didn’t really do anything.

Now that the heat is slowly dying (Y/N) should feel cold, yet the warm skin of the beasts keep them perfectly warm and comfortable, their big hands traveling around their body, soothing the growing soreness in their muscles and worshiping every inch of their soft and tender skin, despite it being covered in sweat and drops of their load.

(Y/N) wanted to cry, but not out of pain, but of how loved they felt in that moment. The surprisingly gentle and affectionate caressing, the soft purrs and rumbles that at times resembled praises, and the overall atmosphere among them three felt so overwhelmingly comforting and loving, nothing like the heated lustful air from moments before.

Tiredness and exhaustion made itself known and they began to slowly doze off. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about having a pillow, the chest of the two monsters were a perfect replacement, so warm and kinda soft now that their bodies and muscles relaxed a bit.

Unknowingly to (Y/N), a little smile formed on their lips. Yes, they're still pretty much nothing compared to a creature like Pyramid Head, but the fact that this same creature, or in this case, creatures, are all over them, a simple little human, makes (Y/N) feel this alien thrill and warmth.

They're still just (Y/N) though.

Their (Y/N).

Ţ̴̡̤͕̝̱̙͎̗͓͎͔̤͍͍̺̖̣̥͇͔̺̖̬̑̅͆̅ͅͅ ̷̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̨̬̲͈̹̦̤̻̬̳͎̳͔̬̘̤̤͚̮͇̪̗͍̺̟̦̯̙͇͔͓͈̫̾̾̂̂̚͠H̸̪͇͚͙̫͇̯̆̚ ̵̧̜͔͎̙͈̦̥̣̥͕̅̆́̆̑͗̈͛̇̓̾̏̇̌͛̾̓̉̀͛̓͆̈́̇̃́̄́̑̊͐̎̍͊̂̈́͆̕̚͘͘͝͝Ȩ̵͈̟̜͓̥͙̣͙̲̤̰̫̟̭̲̪͔͖͇͉̩̗̩͕̮̲̳̼͖̜̳̙͗͒̓̀̊̊͋̿̉̿͜ͅͅ ̷̘̦̜̻͓̒̽͛̚͝Ì̴̡̧̡̧͓̭̝̥̱̻̦̻͔͙̜̳̘̣̘̻̗̫̮̬͖̝͕̬͕͕͐͋͋͆̔̂̍͌͑̏̌͌̚̚ͅ ̵̨̜̻̬̲̬̩̤̹̩̮͈̮̭͈̙̦̪͕͕̭̠̝̝̀̿̓̀̌̌͊̅ͅR̶̫̯̬͚͚̝̦͋͌͒͐̀̄͌̃̓̌̈́̉̄͐͆

[awkward-walking-potato]

Logan Howlett x gn!reader that has the mutation to summon, speak and communicate with ghosts and the undead? Maybe in both daily life, and missions that they’re assigned on, and he sees them use their powers?

Whispers Between Worlds

Logan Howlett had always been known for his gruff exterior, but he was also fiercely protective of those he cared about. From the moment you joined the X-Men, with your eerie yet powerful mutation to communicate with ghosts and the undead, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility over you. It wasn’t just because you were new to the team, or even because your powers gave him a sense of unease—there was something about the quiet strength you carried, despite the weight of your abilities, that drew him in.

Your mutation was unique, something none of the others could fully understand. You could summon, speak with, and communicate with the spirits of the dead. It gave you insight that no one else could access, allowing you to gain critical information in missions and act as a bridge between the living and those who had passed on. But it came at a price—each time you tapped into that realm, it drained you, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.

In daily life, your powers were a mixed blessing. Logan would catch glimpses of you having quiet conversations with spirits no one else could see. You’d occasionally offer reassurance to lost souls lingering in the shadows of the mansion, or lend an empathetic ear to ghosts who had nowhere else to go. It was clear that you felt a responsibility to the dead just as much as the living, and Logan respected that, even if it wasn’t something he’d ever admit out loud.

He’d often see you staring out the window, eyes distant, as if you were half in another world. The ghosts never left you completely alone, and he noticed how it wore on you. Despite your ability to keep a brave face around the others, Logan saw the toll it was taking on you—the bags under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped at the end of a long day. It didn’t sit right with him.

Then there were the missions. Your powers were invaluable in gathering intel from fallen enemies or uncovering long-lost secrets from the dead, but Logan hated how often you were pushed to your limits. The team, even with their best intentions, had started to rely on you more and more, asking you to summon spirits at every turn. They didn’t see the way your hands trembled after, or the pain in your eyes when you had to force yourself to connect with the other side.

One mission in particular pushed you past your breaking point.

The team had been dispatched to an old, abandoned military base to recover sensitive information from a long-dead commander. The base had been a site of horrific battles, and the air was thick with restless spirits. You were asked to summon the commander’s ghost to get the intel they needed, but Logan could see the exhaustion already etched across your face before you even began.

“Take it easy, darlin’,” Logan had murmured to you as the others prepared for the mission. “You don’t have to do this.”

But you’d shaken your head, a determined look in your eyes. “I’ll be fine, Logan. We need this information.”

And so, you pushed forward, reaching out to the commander’s spirit as the others stood by, waiting. Logan kept a close eye on you, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

It didn’t take long for the toll to hit. As the ghost appeared, your body stiffened, and Logan saw you clench your fists in pain. The commander’s spirit was fragmented, violent—years of rage and torment had left him a shell of who he once was, and pulling his essence into the world caused you immense strain. Your breathing became labored, your skin paling as the spirit fought against your control.

“Enough!” Logan barked, stepping forward as he saw you falter. But the others were too focused on the mission to notice.

“We just need a few more details,” one of the team members insisted. “Hold it a little longer!”

But you couldn’t. The pain in your head was unbearable, like knives being driven into your skull as the spirit thrashed within you. Just as the ghost finished relaying the last bit of information, you collapsed to the ground, the connection severed, your body spent from the strain.

Before anyone else could react, Logan was at your side, his hand on your back as he helped you sit up. The moment he saw the pain in your eyes, a white-hot anger surged through him.

“That’s it,” Logan growled, standing up and turning to face the others. His fists clenched, claws threatening to unsheathe. “You’re all pushing ‘em too damn far!”

“Logan, we needed—” one of the others started, but Logan cut them off with a snarl.

“Needed what? To see how much more pain they could take? They’ve been running themselves ragged for this team, and you’ve been too damn blind to notice! Every time they use those powers, it takes somethin’ outta ‘em, and none of you seem to give a damn!”

The others looked taken aback, but Logan didn’t care. His eyes burned with protective fury as he turned back to you, his voice softening when he spoke again. “You’re done for the day, got it? No more of this.”

You tried to protest, but your body was trembling, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Logan crouched down beside you, his hand gently brushing your hair back from your face. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Let’s get you home.”

The others stood in awkward silence, knowing Logan was right, but unsure of how to respond. Without another word, Logan lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you back to the jet.

Once you were safely seated, Logan stayed by your side the entire way home. His hand never left yours, his presence a grounding force as the exhaustion of your powers finally overtook you.

Later that evening, after you’d had some rest, Logan came to check on you. He leaned against the doorframe of your room, his usual gruff demeanor softened as he watched you lying in bed, still recovering.

“Y’know, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” he said quietly, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “The team needs you, yeah, but I need you too. And I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you, not even yourself.”

You smiled weakly, grateful for his words. “Thanks, Logan.”

He crossed the room, sitting down beside you and gently taking your hand in his. “From now on, if it gets to be too much, you tell me. I’ll make sure they back off. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You weren’t alone—not with Logan by your side.

[charliemwrites]

Hello, hello! Per ceilidh's request - a Soap x Reader ficlet from the prompt thingy.

#11 "You tricked me."

I was heavily inspired by that tiktok sound (iykyk)

Rating: M CW/TW: brief/vague torture, threat of SA (doesn't happen), manipulation, dark!Soap

Being a medium in the military isn’t that much different from being a medium anywhere else.

The rules are roughly the same. Don’t talk to ghosts in living company. Don’t join idiotic 2am summoning circles. Try to help the ones you can; try not to lose sleep over the ones you can’t.

Oddly, there aren’t as many ghosts on a base as any given suburban house. Depends on the base, of course, but a reassuring number of former-military souls continue to their final rest. Even if their bodies (or parts of it) don’t make it back, tags and a symbolic burial usually suffice.

The 141’s main base only has a handful. A few you’ve already gotten closure for, sent off into the beyond. The others you’re working on, or already know they’re a lost cause. Most of them are even friendly!

There’s a corporal that haunts the mess and laments mashed potatoes. A captain appears in Price’s office occasionally, his residual energy glaring down at reports and rustling at phantom papers. On the range, you sometimes speak to the ghost of a prostitute murdered by some piece of shite back in ye olde times. She doesn’t talk back – can’t with a crushed windpipe – but she smiles when you have the privacy to acknowledge her.

Your favorite, though, is Johnny. He’s a comparatively new spirit, by your estimate. Lots of energy, still coherent. You can’t tell how he died by looking at him, but that’s not unusual. It could have been internal bleeding, or a stroke despite his youth. He won’t tell you his last name despite all your asking, always just laughs.

“Yer no’ gettin’ rid o’ me tha easily!”

He always lays the Scottish accent on in a thick velvet blanket. You want to wrap yourself up in it.

Yes, the rules for being a medium are the same, even on a military base. The main one: don’t get haunted by feelings.

That was never a concern, never even a thought, until Johnny. Until you caught his eye around Price’s shoulder during your introductory tour. He followed you for hours, interjecting little asides that put your selective hearing to the test. Always orbited just close enough to send chills down your spine and goosebumps up your arm.

You confronted him when you’d finally been dismissed back to your barrack, whirling around as he popped his mohawked head through the door. Despite yourself, you made quick friends with him.

He’s an unusual ghost. Doesn’t seem tied to a particular place or thing on base. Isn’t trapped along the same paths he walked in life. He’s always solid or near solid, doesn’t waver at certain times of day. You’re utterly charmed by his unorthodoxy, by his miraculous non-existence. And by the fact that, while he knows your secret – as all spirits do – he seems more intrigued than solicitous.

It's not that you blame other ghosts – the coherent ones – for wanting help. It’s torturous to toe that line, not alive but not at peace. Stuck and dwindling little by little. You can’t imagine what it feels like, but you can sense from some that it’s frightening, and cold. No, you’re not bothered that they ask for help. Or with the ones that are just angry; they have every reason to be.

Johnny, though… he’s special. You don’t feel so alone with him, even if the room looks like it to an outsider.

“Oh, aye, that’s pure dead brilliant. You know they’re sending you to Russia?”

You flick Johnny a glance. He’s leaning over Price’s shoulder, peering at the briefing docket that’s actively being explained. You don’t mind the extra or early info. Saved your ass a couple times before.

Your lack of response ruffles his feathers though. He stalks through the table to Gaz, flicks his pen right off the surface. You snort softly as he curses under his breath and ducks to retrieve it, trying not to interrupt Price. You make eye contact with Johnny, blink and minutely shake your head. He can see the twitching at the corners of your mouth anyway.

He smirks and wades through solid objects back to you. His presence looms behind your shoulder, an uneasy flicker at the edge of your consciousness. Like this he seems bigger, inhuman beyond ghostliness. Rougher and darker in the corner of your vision. You’ve done a double-take and gotten teased for skittishness enough times by now to quell the urge to check. It’s always just Johnny.

You’re paired with your lieutenant, Ghost. He’ll be watching with his sniper while you’re on infil. Usually, you’re paired with Gaz, but he and Roach will be at the other end of the compound taking out a target.

When the team is dismissed, Ghost only pauses long enough to give you a nod before skulking off. Not unusual for him; you take no offense. Johnny, however, is scowling something fierce after him.

For whatever reason, he’s never been a fan of your LT. The one time you asked, the lights started flickering and Johnny dismissed the question with a sharp “just don’t like him.”

You suspect that it’s because Ghost was your mentor when you joined the 141. The two of you spent the majority of your time together, training you up to run with the rest of the squad. Due to his constant proximity, your ability to respond to Johnny was greatly hindered.

Still is with how observant Ghost is. Have almost blown your cover several times and had to really watch yourself, and your reactions. You think Johnny might resent him for that.

Back in your barrack, though, Johnny happily chatters while you gear up for the mission. Base gossip and bits of intel he shouldn’t know and shouldn’t tell you. It’s standard ritual for you two; he likes to talk, and you’re accustomed to listening. You hum in the right places, storing tidbits away for your own amusement later.

A playful tug to your bitch-strap makes you yelp, then laugh when you catch Johnny’s grin. He does it again, loosening one of the buckles on your thigh. You swat him uselessly, retightening it only for him to pluck at your bootlaces while you’re occupied. He’s got so much energy, for a ghost. So adept at interacting with the physical world.

“Quit it!” you giggle, trying to dodge his darting hands.

“Why should I?” he chuckles. You curse as he gets a finger in your harness and jerks, misaligning it with the rest of your gear.

“I’ll banish you,” you lie, wriggling various straps back into place.

“Oh, sweet girl, it would take a lot more than you’ve got to get rid of me now.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase for him, but it’s the tone that draws your gaze. There’s an unfamiliar, inky darkness in his voice that pools in the pit of your stomach. You frown, open your mouth to ask what he means. But just like that, his electric smile is back, eyebrows arching as he nods to your bedside clock.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Shit!” You snatch up your backpack and fling it across your shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you, Johnny!”

“Can’t kill something that isn’t alive,” he cackles as you sweep out the door.

You make it the transport just short of reprimand, though that doesn’t stop Ghost from narrowing his eyes as you duck into your seat. Gaz has already started a lively conversation with Roach, and Price is staying back this time.

You miss Johnny already. He may not be trapped in any particular part of the base, but he can’t come with you on missions or leave. The spaces where he’s absent feel colder and quieter. Everything seems just a bit… off. A song missing an instrument, a rainbow lacking one color.

You’re not sure when that started happening, when Johnny became such a vital part of how you perceive the rest of the world. When did longing for him become a chronic illness?

“Focus up!” Ghost barks in your ear.

You blink, shake your head, and take stock bewildered. Gone is the transport and the rest of your team. It’s just you now, hidden behind a generator, presumably about to infiltrate the target.

How?

When you try to recall, you have vague recollections of exiting the transport. Hiking to the compound. Splitting off with a few parting words amongst the lot of you. It feels watery at the edges, more of a vivid dream than a waking memory.

“Yessir.” It jumps instinctively from your tongue while you flex your cold fingers, trying to coax the nerves back to life.

You take a deep breath – lungs aching like you’ve held your breath too long – and continue with the mission. There’s no room for error now, or idle daydreams of noncorporeal men with wicked smiles.

The building is only three stories and you’re not meant to clear it. Just get to the server room, collect the information, and slip away with minimal enemy contact.

Maybe that’s why you don’t realize that something is wrong at first. You’re supposed to be avoiding guards, so you don’t notice the lack of them. Things do go right, sometimes, the intel can be good.

But it’s the quiet the finally prickles at your awareness. You may be more attuned to the dead, but you have a sense for the living as well. Always made you the worst to play hide and seek with. Now, you can feel that this building is vacant, deprived of any souls.

“LT, something is wrong,” you whisper, frozen mid-step.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s too quiet.”

To his credit, he doesn’t dismiss you immediately. “How?”

“I think the building is empty. Have you seen anyone?”

“Negative.” A pause as he considers, maybe scans the other windows for signs of occupation. “Sit tight, I’ll update Price.”

There’s barely a heartbeat before you hear distant gunfire. Too much and too soon for the plan. Roach and Gaz weren’t supposed to neutralize the target until you were collecting intel.

“Fuck,” Ghost snarls. “Get out of there!”

You’re already sprinting for the stairwell. Nearly pop your ankles leaping down, boot treads catching on the edge of steps. No one is chasing you, but your team needs help. Gaz is shouting in your ear, the channels reconnected for ease of communication. The situation is devolving quickly and violently.

“Almost there,” you report.

Your foot hits the last landing before the ground floor when the building explodes.

---

It takes three tries to get your vision focused. There’s not much to see once you do. A concrete room tinted by bare yellow halogen. There’s a drain in the floor just in front of you and old blood dried in the corners. It smells like rust, infection, and despair. Your head pounds; your entire body aches. Being tied to a metal chair doesn’t help the post-explosion soreness.

You’ve been stripped down to your fatigues, no boots. There isn’t a door in any of the three walls you can see, so it must be positioned behind you.

Confirmation comes about a minute later. Three sets of boots entering your little box. Only one of them walks into your line of sight; a mean-looking man with face tattoos and a gold tooth. He asks if you speak Russian, and though you do, you spew a string of English profanities and threats at him. The backhand you get in return says he understood you.

The questions start as soon as he switches to English. They want information; they always do. What you had been sent to collect and why. Who Roach and Gaz were sent for and why. You don’t speak a word. Even when the pain starts, and then doesn’t stop. You lose track of time, the head injury floating you on the edge of consciousness within the first thirty minutes.

Hours – days? – later, the man takes a step back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, “I like taking my time, and we have plenty. Your friends think you are dead.”

That, you think through the haze, is probably true. You thought you were dead too.

“Perhaps next time we try something… else,” he muses, running a finger down your neck. “You are not as pretty now, but… prettier than you will be later, da?”

Ice forms in the pit of your stomach and climbs up your spine. It was always on the table, you know that, but facing it is something else.

Whatever expression you’re making seems to satisfy him, because he laughs heartily and finally leaves you alone.

Alone, with the promise of his next visit looming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a dripping sound nearby that you realize, vaguely, is your own blood. Maybe you’ll bleed out before he comes back. You time your breaths with it, using it as a count to get your wild and unsteady heart under control.

Reality washes over you in waves. There is no escape. Your team thinks you’re dead. Eventually, you will break and/or die. You might even become a ghost, join the collective that darkens the edges of this very room, a thing of pain and fear and rage without any coherency or singular will.

You didn’t even give Johnny a proper goodbye.

That somehow hurts the worst. Johnny, hearing second-hand that you’ll never make it back. No one to mourn with him, to offer any comfort. He’ll be alone with grief and then beyond, no one to tell his jokes or stories to.

You miss him more fiercely than you ever have. Part of you is glad he isn’t here. You know him, know he’d be too stubborn to leave you. He’d stay and watch, helpless, as you were tortured and killed. It would tear you apart to do that to him even though it wouldn’t be your own choice.

But… an awful, selfish part of you longs for him. Even just being able to see or hear him would soften the pain and fear. Would make this hell on earth almost bearable. You want to leave this world with Johnny whispering in your ear, maybe even join him when your body finally goes cold.

Given the choice, you would want him here.

You want Johnny. No, you need him. Regret ever leaving him behind, even though he couldn’t come with you. You’d do anything to change that now; anything to be with him again.

Anything?

It’s an unbidden thought, almost intrusive. Doesn’t even feel like yourself asking.

“Anything,” you whisper aloud, just to hear something other than your own despair. “Johnny…”

“You called?”

You jolt, head snapping up so fast it makes you dizzy. The world spins but he’s there, right there, crouching in front of you, arms balanced on his knees.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

Were you closer to the brink than you thought? Is this some sort of final hallucination as you slip into death?

“In the flesh.” He tilts his head, snorts. “Well, in a manner.”

“How…?” you ask, eyes already stinging.

“Told ya, you called. I’d never – hey, now, hey. No need for all that,” he soothes. He wipes the tears from your face. You can feel the warmth in his fingers. “This is a happy occasion.”

You huff in watery amusement, shaking your head. “Did you lose your glasses when you died? I wouldn’t call this celebration-worthy.”

His eyes scan over you, flicker dark. “It will be, don’t you worry.”

You blink, try to focus. Exhaustion and injury and chemical rush are making it difficult, but you know things are off. He shouldn’t be here, least of all because you called. And… something else too. Something in the way he’s holding his shoulders and the twitching around his expression. 

“Johnny, really,” you say, “why are you here?”

“You offered me anything, and I’m here to collect.”

Between one blink and the next, his eyes are black. Pitch black, from corner to corner. You suck in a breath, try to jerk back but there’s nowhere to go.

His grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he sighs.

He leans in, lips parting. His tongue rolls out, long and split at the tip. Licks a luxurious, burning trail from your chin to your temple. You make a sound borne of confused pleasure and fear, high in the back of your throat.

He shushes you, plants a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth. “My brave little lass, finally offering herself to the demon she’s been courting.”

The word bounces against the walls of your cell and burrows into your brain. Demon, demon, demon.

Johnny is…

“You tricked me,” you sob.

He cocks his head, onyx eyes soft with avarice. “Tricked you? No, angel, I’m saving you.”

His hands pet over the cruel ties around your ankles. The itch of them digging into your skin falls away. Gentle thumbs rub circles over the imprints the left behind. Hope and relief pounds hard in your chest.

“I’m only taking what you so willingly and enthusiastically offered,” he explains in hushed awe. Like you’ve given him such a wonderful gift, the greatest gift. Suppose you have.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he croons. His arms wrap around you, almost like a hug. His fingertips trace down your bruised arms to the cuffs biting your wrists. Those too fall away, and you find yourself reaching for him so quickly, folding into his chest, free of that wretched chair.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, a hand curling into blood and sweat soaked tangles.

“It… it is you, right?” you ask. “You’re my Johnny?”

“Always, angel,” he replies, “it’s always been me. I will always be yours. All you have to do is say yes.”

You tilt your head back, catch the wicked curve of fangs as he speaks. He smells like heat and woodsmoke.

“Yes to what?” you ask.

“To everything,” he answers, deep and rough. “You offered anything, and I want all of you.”

You should say no, you should throw yourself away from him.

There is not an inch of your mind or body that wants to leave the safety of his arms. This is Johnny, your Johnny, hellfire and all.

“And… in return,” you venture, “I get… you?”

“Eternally.”

Then it really doesn’t need much more thought.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.”

[thewinter-eden]

Upcoming Posts

Let me know which ones you want to see first!

Crack!Horror SKZ Series :

One shots. Dark comedies with gritty themes, satirical humor, and happy endings. These are meant to be STUPID and FUNNY, not imperative literature. Light or suggested romance, sfw. I don’t condone any of these behaviors btw.

Bang Chan - read it HERE

You Live Like This? - home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob. Fear, threats against your life, light violence (no harm), concerned Chan, terrified but exhausted reader, Netflix.

Lee Know

That Your Man? - mugger!Minho holds you and your bf up in a dark alley one night, ready to give you the old ‘your money or your life’ routine, but when your bf pushes you into the line of fire so he can run away, Minho has second thoughts. Fear, Minho has a gun, attempted mugging (obv), asshole bf, coffee.

Seo Changbin

Blink Twice if You Need Help - stalker!Changbin has been following you for weeks. He’s looking for his next target, and he’s obsessed with you. While he’s watching you, however, he learns the secret you keep—you’re being routinely robbed by your addict brother. After watching this cycle of abuse end with you crying almost every night, Changbin takes pity. Familial abuse, drug addict brother, Changbin’s a repeat offender, satirical but definitive death of character, ice cream.

Hwang Hyunjin

Don’t Look At Me Like That - hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you. Terminal illness, asshole family, political enemies, death of minor character, kidnapping.

Han Jisung

You Called? - demon!Jisung is summoned by your friends during a drunken college party. They’re trying to scare you, pretend to summon a demon and then lock you in the basement until they decide to let you out, but then the demon actually comes, but he thinks your friends are jerks. Fear/comfort, edgy but soft Jisung, terrorizing of minor characters, truth or dare.

Lee Felix

All Ye Who Enter Here - ghost!Felix is said to haunt the abandoned mansion at the end of Blacktree Road. Legend says all who go into the mansion are never seen again. When you decide you’re sick of your friends being afraid of a literal house, you rise to the challenge and go inside. Spoiler alert, Felix is real, and he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to walk into a haunted house. Hauntings, killings, creepy Felix, light tormenting (no reader harm), tea party.

Kim Seungmin

Damn Puppy Dog Eyes - werewolf!Seungmin saves your life from a pack, inadvertently earning your unwavering loyalty, even though he’s just as much a killer as they were. Sometimes he can’t decide if he wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap to save you from your own idiotic self or dump your annoying ass back where he found you. Fear, attempted murder, werewolves hunting humans, reader makes dumb decisions, Seungmin’s gonna pull his own hair out, cuddles.

Yang Jeongin

Do You Need a Straw? - vampire!Jeongin is starving (thirsty?), and your best friend would rather offer you up as his personal capri sun than face her own doom. Jeongin takes the deal, but when he hunts you down, he knows you—you’re his older sister’s best friend, and you don’t take him seriously even for a second. Innie? A vampire? Okay, Edward, if you say so. Killings, blood, threatening, attempted murder, your friend’s an ass, Jeongin’s not good at threatening you, unplanned night swim.

Tell me which ones interest you!

[goldensunset]

they didn’t have to make volo specifically a merchant for pla to work at all they could’ve easily done it differently but it’s very funny

•he constantly is saying stuff like you’re my favorite most loyal supportive customer ever! lovebombing from the start. talk about aggressive sales tactics

•he says this right off the bat the entire time despite the fact that you can’t even buy anything from him until late in the game

•because in almost all his appearances up until then he immediately darts off the second you’re done talking to him. no time for trying to push stuff on you like a clever professional salesman he’s got places to be (rocks to look at)

•you see him actually doing his job one time when he makes a delivery to gaeric. usually he’s just running around hounding people for information

•what he does is occasionally hand you free stuff from his stash

•he himself accidentally acknowledges his own tendency to shirk his duties before correcting himself like uh i mean uh

•as cogita mentions im sure ginter is not pleased lol

•he has infinite of every item for purchase but he doesn’t have three pieces of wood on hand

•he does have a whole change of outfit in that big old backpack though. and the ability to make it magically disappear

•the first time he finally stays in one place long enough for you to buy from him is during the apocalypse

•he charges you money

•i mean of course he charges you money he’s got a job to do but like

•he charges you (chosen hero only person strong enough to save anyone) money (full price) during the apocalypse (space and time are breaking down and the sky is bleeding)

•the apocalypse that HE CAUSED

•IT’S HIS FAULT WE’RE IN THIS MESS

•LIAR AND SCAM ARTIST

•is your business running dry? are you not getting enough customers? try making a deal with the devil to rip open the space-time continuum so that you can summon people from the future and take everything away from them so that they’re in a position to need your product. works every time

[shouyuus]

(from prev blog) anon asked: Happy bday!! This is my first time using tumblr so idek if this is the right place to ask or if it’s too late! But I was wondering if you could write a Zayne x reader drabble for your 30 event 🤍 I saw someone make a rose out of snow by pressing snow on a card and wrapping it around a stick; I think it’d be so cute for Zayne to do that for the reader while they’re walking back home or smthing (even tho he could use his evol this is cuter 😭)

一翦玫 (one cut rose)

zayne; fluff; i rly said fuck the word limit with this one whoops

─── 黎深 THE MORNING DAWNS in a painful, world-swallowing blue, not a wish or whisper of clouds in sight, and Zayne knows that it’ll be cold enough to blister. He can always feel the winter creeping into his bones, twining between his muscles till they ache for something, for anything.

You’re bleary in his arms when he shakes you awake, and the way you peer up at him through sleep-heavy lashes makes his entire world shimmer down to the size of this bedroom, of your tiny groan as you try to bury your face in his pillow and swat him away.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you,” he says, voice indulgent in the way it only is when he’s speaking to you.

The snow crunches fresh and true underfoot, and he watches as you bloom beneath the robin’s egg sky, head tilting back, your breath twisting up in a thin spiral of white mist as you let out a long breath.

“It’s so beautiful out!”

“Careful, or you’ll slip,” he admonishes, tugging you off a small snowbank back onto the sidewalk. You pout up at him even as he adjusts your scarf.

“Killjoy…” you mutter, and Zayne scoffs, tugging on his own turned up collar.

You pass by an old man selling flowers on the street corner, and you skip ahead to press a bill into his hand, telling him to keep warm even as he smiles and hands you a flower. Zayne watches, a tender happiness threading up his throat as you turn back to hand him the flower.

“For your desk,” you say, “to add some color, or else people are gonna think you’ve got no personality.”

Zayne takes the flower and studies it, a rose in shocking lemon-rind yellow. He brings it up to his nose.

“Thanks.”

You grin up at him, looking pleased and mischievous both.

“Now you owe me a flower too!” you say. Zayne regards you with a contemplative sort of look before turning and continuing down the street. You pout, jogging after him.

“Fine, fine — you don’t have to give me a flower — I was just —”

“You’ll get one,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a credit card. Stooping down towards a mound of untouched snow, he scoops up a thin layer on the card and begins his work, pressing each layer around the previous one, using the heat of his hand to melt the “petals” till they curl into one single snow-white rose.

You gasp as he finishes his work, dusting his hands off on his jacket.

“It’s… beautiful! But… how am I gonna carry if there’s no stem?”

At this, Zayne tsks, summoning his Evol, and you watch with bright eyes as a crystaline stem forms from the base of the rose, extending out, glimmering leaves unfurling in ice as he hands the flower to you. You take it between delicate fingers and smile as you lean in to take a whiff.

“It won’t smell like a rose,” Zayne says, tucking his hands back into his pockets, watching as you stare down at the miraculous flower, “that’s not something my Evol can do just yet.”

But your smile is brilliant as a winter’s morning as you turn back towards him, clutching the flower to your chest, “It’s okay — it smells like winter!”

“Does it now?” Zayne asks, amusement twinkling behind his eyes, “And what exactly does winter smell like?”

You twirl the white rose between careful fingers before shooting him a truly heart-stopping wink —

“It smells like you.”

final wc: 604 || be part of my taglist!

a/n: a few words of explanation -- the trend that anon is asking about can be see here, its rly very cute. also, the title of this fic is a "play" on the popular 一剪梅, aka the "xue hua piao piao" song LMFAO, where i changed the "梅" meaning "plum" from the song title to “玫" from '玫瑰" or "rose" since both 梅 and 玫 are pronounced "mei3". i thought it was a fun little thing to do and the actual song itself is about winter and snow so! :)

taglist: @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays! ❄️❄️ more from What They Expect please! I love that AU!

continuation of 1 2 3

It’s been well over a year since she’s seen Mustang. Al’s all aflutter about it, and how puberty has her looking like something other than a twelve year old boy, but she’s really not worried. Mustang is so involved with his own shit that he doesn’t have the time to care about hers. It would be a damning quality if it wasn’t exactly what she needed from him.

She is, sort of, a little bit worried about Riza. Not worried as in she actually thinks something is going to happen, but just that if anyone out of Mustang’s little idiot brigade would figure her out, it would be her.

Maes is a distinct possibility, but also not really. The thing that saves her, always, is that no one’s really looking. She’s loud and flashy and angry and no one thinks she’s too short to be a guy because of how sensitive she is about it and no one notices she’s pretty because they’re too busy dealing with her being mad and scowling and, with these guys, she’s got an extra ace up her sleeve.

They think they already know all her secrets.

They know about human transmutation and binding her brother’s soul to a suit of armor and every questionable and terrible thing she’s done since in her pursuit to fix it.

Why the hell would she be lying about her gender? It’s not even a thought in their heads, and if it ever becomes one, they’ll dismiss it before he even has a chance to.

Eden binds her chest tight extra tight, so her chest is nearly flat, and puts on her baggy tank top and giant red coat that hides the way her hips curve and the giant stompy boots that she really does love, sets her face in a familiar scowl, and goes off to war.

If war was child’s play, that is.

“Where have you been?” Mustang demands, towering over her and nostrils flaring.

Well. Sort of towering over her. She must have had a growth spurt, because he’s really only got a couple inches on her, which is sort of hilarious. She hadn’t noticed that he was short before. “Uh, lots of places. Haven’t you been reading my reports?”

She does not laugh in his face at the way his eyebrow ticks. She spends so much time meticulously writing everything down in dedicated code in her travelogues, she really doesn’t have the energy to spare when she gets to her reports for Mustang. Besides, he doesn’t really care what she’s doing, only that it’s big and flashy enough to distract from whatever he’s doing.

Is she supposed to know that? She can’t remember. But it’s so obvious that it doesn’t feel like something that can be a secret.

Then again, the rest of the brass haven’t caught on, so.

“What were you thinking in Liore?” he snaps.

Eden blinks. “Liore? That was forever ago. Did something happen? Rose didn’t mention anything in her last letter.”

“Yes, Edward, it was forever ago, but since you declined to answer my summons to come here and explain yourself, we’re discussing it now,” he says.

God, she’d forgotten how bitchy he gets. “Okay, well that priest guy was pretty strange-“

“I don’t care about the priest!”

She stares. She had to kill the guy twice and he doesn’t care? Honestly, she thinks it’s sort of memorable.

“What were you thinking messing with that river?”

Ed tilts her head to the side. “You’re upset about the river?”

He glares. “Of course I’m upset about the river!”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Al’s really worried over nothing.

Mustang is never paying attention to the right things.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Question Best Left Unanswered

Okay so this one kinda got away from me and I had a grand old time with it. It's so silly and stupid but it brought me joy.

Anyways, have some more Summoned!König. This time featuring relationship angst and questions about anatomy.

TWs: discussion of sexual activity, NSFW content

Wordcount: 4.2K (it's a whopper here)

Story below the cut

Images courtesy of this post

A Question Best Left Unanswered

You hung your head in shame as you hung up the phone. What a disaster that last call had been.

The entire hour-long phonecall you’d just had with your parents had just ended up with them berating you for a good forty-five minutes before they gave up on trying to reach you. First your father had shamed you for ruining the family name, then your mother cried that she didn’t know where she went wrong with you. All those years of preparing you to be a summoner, only for you to turn out to be a miserable failure.

By the end, you’d just barely been able to hold back your tears. Once you hung up the phone, they fell freely down your cheeks as you hurriedly scurried to your room.

Of course, it couldn’t be so simple because your friend had just turned the corner as you reached your door.

“Hey!” she called with a wave, only to retract it nervously when you turned to face her, “woah. Are you okay?”

You nodded but before you could leave, your friend clasped a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not okay,” she said grimly, “do you want to get something from the caf?”

You hesitated. Normally, you wouldn’t be willing to eat anything until dinner came around, but the call with your parents sat wrong in your stomach. It wasn’t much, but maybe a bite to eat would help.

“Sure,” you conceded, “let’s go.”

---

With a plate of crackers and fruit in front of you, the most the chefs on base would give you, you broke down and told your friend about the call.

“Your parents suck,” your friend spat, “like, who does that? I just can’t believe anyone would say that, especially not to their own kid.”

“They’re not usually that bad,” you weakly tried to defend them, but today your heart just wasn’t in it.

“Are you sure?” your friend asked as they took a bite of their veggie sandwich.

You sighed heavily.

“I just wish they would as least pretend to be proud of me,” you stirred your drink with your straw slowly, “I mean, I didn’t ask to be born like this. Why is it my fault that I can’t control my summon? He’s literally an avatar. An avatar. Those are like, the hardest summons to try to control.”

“Actually I think a legend might be,” your friend interjected, food spitting out their mouth as they spoke, “or maybe an immortal. I don’t think anyone’s managed to control a god before…”

“Okay yeah sure but it doesn't change the fact that he’s an avatar. Of chaos,” you wiped the chewed up spittle off your sleeves with a brush of your hand, “and I’m, well, you know, me. There’s no way I can handle König.”

“His name is König?” your friend asked.

“Yeah,” you took a sip of your drink, “he’s pretty nice honestly. Last week he got me my stuffed animals and the game boy I lost from my old home.”

Your friend looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Their jaw dropped to their chest for a moment before they were able to gather their composure.

“No fucking way,” she muttered.

“What?” you snorted, “aren’t all summons like that?”

Your friend shook her head hard enough to make you worry her neck would snap.

“No? I don’t even know my fire imp’s name, or my water sprite. They’re just my summons,” your friend explained, “most of the time they just tolerate me because they can’t kill me.”

“Don’t you form bonds with them?” you asked, now curious.

“Nope,” your friend snorted, “my water imp sprite tried to drown me when I first summoned it. Most summons try to kill their summoners as soon as they figure out that they’re not in the other realm.”

“König’s never hurt me,” you admitted.

“Never? Has he ever tried to?” your friend leaned back with an awestruck expression.

“Not once,” you confided.

“So you’re not the one that made König your mate?” your friend put together slowly, “König made you his mate!?”

You grimaced and leaned back from her, “Pretty much.”

Your friend whistled, “No fuckin’ shot. I can’t believe you bagged an avatar of chaos. Like, you realize how insane that sounds, right?”

You blinked. You hadn’t really thought about it that way. You’d always just seen it as König sparing your life, but the thought that somehow you were the one to seduce an avatar of chaos brought you a spark of joy.

“I guess you’re right,” you agreed timidly, “I just thought that he was lonely.”

Your friend snorted, “I mean probably, yeah, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he chose you as a mate,” she thought for a moment, took a bite of her sandwich and then asked, “wait, so if you’re a human and he’s an avatar, what will your kids look like?”

You flushed and turned to hide your face, but your friend was quicker.

“Wait, have you actually thought about that?” she teased you lightly.

“I mean, we’ve never actually… You know… We’re not really a couple,” you admitted.

“So you’re not banging him?” your friend raised an eyebrow.

“No?” you gasped, horrified by your friend’s suggestions, “I barely even know him!”

“But like,” your friend pressed their lips into a line. She studied you carefully before she finally asked, “Aren’t you curious?”

“About what? Fucking him?” you raised your eyebrows at the suggestion.

“I mean yeah, but like…” your friend leaned in close again, “what does he even look like?”

“I…” you paused, “I actually don’t know.”

Your friend took a bite of her salad before pointing her fork at you, “We need to fix that.”

“We!?”

“Well now I’m curious,” your friend shrugged, “so now it’s not an ish-you kind of problem, it’s an ish-us.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” you sputtered.

“Point is that I-sorry we need to figure this out. I mean,” your friend tossed you a sly look, “if you’re gonna have his kids you’re gonna have to find out one way or another.”

You were at a loss for words. All you could do was stare at the woman who sat across the table from you, almost as though she herself were an avatar of chaos.

Your friend scowled, “What?”

—

You slowed your pace to a crawl as you approached your dorm. It wasn’t that you weren’t eager to go to bed, rather the contrary, but the thought of facing König tonight made your cheeks burn bright red.

Ever since your conversation with your friend, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about König. You already thought about König a bit too much for your own comfort, but you’d never thought about König like this before. It wasn’t like you were a prude by any means, but you’d never actually considered being with König like that before.

It’s not that it had never come up, you still remembered König trying to take you almost immediately after claiming you as his mate, but ever since he’d been nothing but respectful of the boundaries you'd since put up If anything, he was sometimes more respectful of your own boundaries than you were. Maybe he read your mind more than he let on, but you liked to think he was just thoughtful. After all, if you’d been around since the beginning of time, wouldn’t you be considerate and patient? You liked to think you’d be, but you had your doubts.

Thinking about König had you blushing as you walked down the hallway to your dorm. You could see the door all the way from here, only occasionally being obscured by a summoner retreating into their dorm for the evening. Occasionally, you could see a summon tagging behind them, most often looking rather irritated or depressed, something you’d never really noticed before.

Most summons were kept in the other realm unless they were actively being called upon. Some summoners like to keep their summons by their side, almost as though they were a beloved pet. You thought to your meditation teacher with his summon. Other times, you saw summoners struggling to manage their summons. In fact, the one class you excelled in was protecting yourself against your summon. Of course, the only reason you did so well was because König never tried to attack you in the first place. Your sergeant had been frustrated at first, but after further consideration decided to take it as your summon being too attached to you to consider attacking you. With this in mind, she gave you a bright and shining report. She then promptly told you to never take her class again. You were more than happy to comply.

Of course, König didn’t always help during your training. In fact, he seemed to prefer leaving you to your own devices whenever possible. He’d once explained that he gave you minimal support to encourage you to train harder to keep up with your peers, but you decidedly figured it was because he was too lazy to help. König only rolled his eyes when you told him that and decidedly vanished to the other realm for the rest of the night.

Your doorway grew closer and closer with each step you took. You wished that you could find a way to avoid going back to your dorm, but lights out drew nearer and nearer the longer your tried to put off entering your one personal area.

Finally, you reached your dorm. With a heavy sigh, you opened the door and stepped inside.

Surprisingly, König wasn’t there to greet you.

“König?” you called out carefully, but no reply came back to you.

You walked towards your desk.

“König?” you called again, but again there was no response.

Maybe he was occupied for the evening.

A sudden rush of relief overcame you. The absolute last thing you wanted to do was face König while your conversation with your friend was still fresh on your mind. That said, you had the strong suspicion that a night of good rest wouldn’t be enough to shake the thoughts from your head. With the way the question had fixed itself to your mind, you had the dreadful feeling that the only way to find some sort of satisfactory answer was to progress your relationship with König.

But were you ready to go that far? You’d shared a kiss, but since then, König had kept his distance. He was strangely considerate of the trepidation you felt whenever the thought of being in a romantic relationship with König crossed your mind. How would that even work? You were a mortal. Your life was but a blink of his eyes. And yet, despite your limited lifespan, he chose to spend this fraction of his life by your side. Was he amused by the whims of his new plaything? Was he simply toying with you until he chose to rend the soul from your mortal flesh? The thought made you nauseous.

But why did it make you nauseous? Why did the thought of König’s ultimate betrayal feel like a stone in the pit of your stomach? Why did your eyes sting and your throat clench when you thought of how little you matter to a being as grand and powerful as König?

You had an idea of what was behind the feelings, but you daren’t give it any room to breath, never mind grow within your mind’s garden. You’d instead stamp it out, coat it in salt and rip it from the earth like a weed. Of course, the roots went deeper than you could imagine.

You slumped into the plushest chair your company could buy in the corner of your room. It was worn, tired; it had seen many generations of new and upcoming summoners such as yourself. The thought gave way to an ache deep inside your chest.

You wiped your sleeves over the tears that flowed from your eyes. You didn’t consider yourself to be of the weeping sort, but since König had entered your life, he’d seemingly turned everything upside down, including how you operated in your day-to-day life. A part of you hated it, a louder part wished to take it all with open arms. You despised both parts for their respective tenacity. 

You allowed yourself to curl up for what felt like forever before you managed to come to terms with your fears.

You would be nothing to him. You were a speck in his eye, if anything. You were naught but dust, and you would have to content yourself with such an existence. Now as to why König had taken such a shining to you, that was beyond your comprehension. If you had the mind of Aristotle, Diogenes, or Plato maybe you could have come to terms with your existence in relation to the greater world. Had you a mind of Camus, Cant or Descarte maybe you could content yourself with the meaning of your existence itself. But you had no such mind, now did you? You were weak and feeble, a summoner with all the potential one could hope for at your fingertips yet hindered by your own inability to understand the ethos of methods that had been passed on like the summoners passed before them.

You felt the tears subside briefly to allow you a moment to recover from the throes of your emotions. Unfortunately, just as you felt yourself wrangling your emotions back under your control, the pot lights flickered.

“No not now…” you groaned and curled further into the safety of the chair.

“Did I come at a bad time?” König crossed his arms as he stared at you from the centre of the room.

“Can you please go away?” you sighed as you turned away from him.

König hummed before stalking to your side, “I think that it would be wrong of me to abandon my mate when they’re in such a state.”

At the mention of ‘mate’, you groaned and ducked your head between your knees.

König paused, then drew away. He came back moments later to swath you in a warm blanket before he crouched in front of you.

“It seems something troubles you, summoner,” König droned as you drew the blankets around your form.

“I’m fine,” you spat bitterly.

König barked out a laugh before ruffling your hair affectionately, “You certainly are in quite a mood, aren’t you?”

“Just go away,” you grumbled.

König drummed his claws over his knee. His scales rippled in the crepuscular light that shone into your room, his onyx scales shining almost iridescent in the warm dying rays of sun.

“Must I read my mate’s mind to understand what troubles them so?”

You grumbled and ducked your head under the blanket.

König sighed. He stretched up with cracking joints, and you’d hoped he’d left until you felt him pull your blankets from your head. You tried to struggle against him, but he didn’t so much as budge while you writhed. With a sigh, you conceded and allowed him to pull the blankets to the side to see you properly.

“Well, summoner?”

“I just was thinking about us…” you admitted.

“Us? In what sense?” König asked, already fully aware of your answer.

“Like, we’re mates, right?” you tucked your nose to your knees, “but I don’t know why.”

König hummed, then drew you up into his arms. You struggled and spat, but he held you before he sat down on the sofa with a loud poomf as the air was punched out from the pillows.

“You don’t understand why I chose you,” König surmised quickly.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes as you nodded.

“Well,” König adjusted you so you sat upright in his lap, “I’d say it makes perfect sense.”

You stared at him blankly.

“That reaction of yours is exactly why it makes sense,” König explained, “a being of chaos is likely to tear you asunder. Maybe enslave you, maybe curse you for thousands of generations to come. It’s expected that something horrible would happen.”

“So you chose me because it was the random choice?” you asked.

“I chose you because I saw your potential,” König explained, “and, of course, you're right as what greater delight is there than to choose the opposite of the expected outcome? Why follow your expected order when I can tie you to my side for millennia to come?”

You scowled, “So you chose to be my mate because you thought it would be funny.”

König shook his head, “You could take it that way, but that would be unwise. Rather, I chose you as a mate because I saw your potential and wanted to see it through.

“You were set up to fail, you realize this?" König stared deep into your eyes, "the chalk you used to summon me was imbued to ensure that whatever was summoned would be more than you could ever hope to control. The patterns they gave you were far too complex for a beginner summoner. You were supposed to be torn apart.”

You froze in König’s arms.

“Yes, you were meant to die. But when I looked at you, marked for death by those envious of your potential,” König’s smirk was woven into his words, “I saw that potential of yours and I saw an opportunity. I saw a way to usurp the delicate balance of power this world has.”

“So I’m a pawn to you,” you felt the tears stinging behind your eyes again.

“Not in the slightest,” König chided you patiently, “I saw you for your potential and I saw someone who just needed a push. Someone who just needed someone to help them see their own worth. And that someone, dear summoner, was none other than myself.”

“That still makes me sound like a pawn,” you complained.

“Then I’ll tell you this: I chose you because I saw what we could become together,” König whispered into your ear, “I see you now, mind you. I see you and I am enthralled by you in all your strange and truly wonderful ways.

“I want you to listen carefully summoner, as this is a lesson that will be tattooed into your veins: I love you for you. I love you for who you’ve been, who you are, who you will be. I love you for all of you, completely and forever.”

You flushed brightly. Instead of replying, you simply tucked your face into yourself to avoid having to meet his eyes. Of course, the joy of being loved could only last so long in the shadow of a more pressing problem.

“I’m assuming forever is until I die,” you sighed.

“Yes? That’s what will happen, yes,” König told you plainly, “as it will happen to myself. We will die together.”

Your eyes snapped wide open as you whirled around to look him in the eyes.

“Calm yourself, summoner,” König huffed, “what makes you think that will be soon?”

“I mean, soon for you,” you muttered bitterly.

“Soon for me?” König chortled, “I don’t think that day will come anytime soon. You’re my mate summoner, you’ll be with me until we die.”

You stared at him, “So, in seventy years?”

König reeled back in shock, “Seventy years? That’s nothing! You’ll be with me for the rest of my natural life!”

You blinked.

“But…” you glared at him, “but that’s like… I’ll never get that old.”

“Summoner,” König drawled, "have you not considered that when mated to me, certain aspects of your life will change?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

“No, you didn’t think that,” König concluded after looking into your eyes, “well let me be the one to inform you that your natural life has been extended exponentially to match mine. You’ll be with me until the bitter end, I’m afraid. Or at least, for as long as you’ll take me as your mate.”

“I mean, I’m pretty happy with you,” you admitted.

“I’d hope so,” König sniffed.

“Don’t be like that,” you huffed.

“Be like what, upset that you’d be anything other than infatuated with me?” König retorted.

“Infatuated?” you laughed, “that’s a lot to ask for, isn’t it?”

“Not when it’s already provided,” König booped your nose, much to your dismay.

“I’m not infatuated-what? Where are you getting that from!?” you snapped as König threw his head back with a gurgling laugh.

“I jest, summoner,” König gave you a light kiss from beneath his mask, feeling more like being pinched by something sharp than being kissed on the cheek. You pushed his face away which he only just allowed before hugging you close.

“Now, summoner,” König rubbed his cheek against yours, leaving behind a thin sheen of something that smelled strongly of König, “I can tell there is more on your mind.”

“No there isn’t,” you lied weakly.

“No? There’s nothing I can answer for you?” König trilled.

“Nope,” you turned your face away from him, “I know everything.”

“Not yet, summoner,” König laughed.

“And who are you to question my endless knowledge?” you huffed haughtily as you cast him a downright scathing side-eye.

“Oh, nobody important,” König lay back in the seat, “only the being that saw the creation of your universe and will live to see its death.”

You rolled your eyes, already over his ‘holier than thou’, or rather, ‘more worldly than thou’ attitude.

“So tell me summoner,” König’s hand wandered down your torso, “isn’t there more on your mind?”

You flushed scarlet. He really was determined to get to the bottom of this, wasn’t he? A part of you felt that he was only pushing you this way to further tease you, but you couldn’t help the genuine curiosity bubbling forth.

“I mean, maybe,” you conceded, “but it’s nothing important.”

“I would say otherwise,” König tucked your face into his clavicle.

“Well,” you started, emboldened now that you didn’t have to look your mate in the eyes, “I was talking with a friend about you.”

“Were you now?” König drawled.

“And uh, we were talking about how you chose to be my mate, not the other way around. So, we got to talking about it, and…” you trailed off shamefully.

“Talking about us being mates? I can imagine a great myriad of topics can come forth from such a nebulous beginning,” König brushed his claws through your hair with surprisingly tender care.

“Well, we were kinda talking about what it would be like for you to fuck me?” you squeaked out.

König paused in his ministrations, seemingly shocked by your forwardness.

“I’d hope it would be pleasurable for both of us,” König stated, still befuddled by your answer.

“Well that’s what we started talking about, and then it went on to what your dick looked like?” if you didn’t think your voice could go any higher, you’d be poorly mistaken.

König slowly leaned back to be able to look you in the eyes.

His voice sounded like it was coming from deep under the ocean, “Excuse me?”

If you weren’t so embarrassed you might have laughed at your ability to shock a being older than time itself. Evidently, though König could see the ways time shifted and cross, was able to see all the possible outcomes of an event, even he couldn’t predict just how horny you were.

“I mean, it’s just like,” you shrugged, “if I wanna have your kid I’d probably have to figure it out at some point, right?”

König nodded mutely.

“Do you…” you looked him dead in the eyes, “do you even have a dick?”

König blinked.

“Yes?” he stared back at you, “I mean, what did you expect?”

You shrugged, “Maybe a cloaca?”

You could see the furious horror that washed over König’s face despite the mask.

“I do not have a cloaca and whoever told you that is a cheat, a fiend and a liar!”

Evidently someone had history.

“It’s a reasonable thing to think!” you protested, “I mean, you’ve got this whole bird-y ocean thing going on with you? It’s a vibe, sure, but it doesn’t give me much room to work with.”

"I have a what-You know what, nevermind, I don’t want to hear it,” König groaned as he rolled his eyes, “but yes I do in fact have a ‘dick’ as you refer to it. I don’t know why you’d think-”

“It was the water bird thing!”

“Why you’d think my 'vibe' might change that. I am… Wait, I don’t actually know what your species looks like,” König dropped his hands, “one moment please summoner,” he placed a thumb against your forehead, and immediately you felt your entire body go numb. After only a minute had passed, König withdrew his thumb, and with it came the return of your senses.

“Well that was informative,” König grumbled, “but not particularly helpful. I am realizing that I’m… Different from your species. Significantly so.”

“That’s really not helpful,” you flushed, “I mean, you could just show me…”

König pressed another pinching kiss to your forehead, “My mate, I think we should wait until you’re ready to go that far.”

You squirmed in his lap, “I mean, it can’t be that bad…”

“You can wait,” König tucked you back to his chest, “I assure you it won’t change for another thousand years.”

“Wait, it changes?” you spluttered.

“I reserve my right to remain silent,” König replied.

“You sure don’t use it often,” you grumbled only to find your lips pressed firmly together into a line. Despite your best efforts, your lips remained stuck in place.

König sighed and settled back into the sofa, “Much better.”

You were going to kill him, you swore by it.

AU Masterlist

[brittle-doughie]

Not gonna lie, this has been on my head for WEEKS now after I read Tales of Sweetness (Valentines Special) over and over again even though Valentines day is already over-

And I read the part where Pomegranate Cookie and Red Velvet Cookie are argueing if Y/n will like their Valentine Chocolates or not (anddd of course, Y/n likes it in the end), and it made me very interested on the title of Y/n Cookie if they join the Dark Cookies Team;

"Lord/Lady of Darkness"

So- I was thinking...

May I request of What is Licorice Cookie, Poison Mushroom Cookie, Dark Choco Cookie, Strawberry Crepe Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Red Velvet Cookie and Dark Enchantress Cookie Opinions or Reactions to Lord/Lady Y/n?

And how does these dark Cookies treat Lord/Lady Y/n Cookie, as well as what these Cookies respect obsess/love Y/n cookie?

Also, I won't forget that I read the part where Lord/Lady Y/n Cookie rides a frikin' Cake Dragon- add that part of how these cookies react that Y/n cookie can tame a Cake Dragon too.

I think some of them will go 😲 or 🤯 or 😱 at Lord/Lady Y/n taming AND riding a big Cake Dragon, of course- 🤣🤣🤣

Cookie Details - Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie (Y/N Cookie) - (CoD Ver.)

“Am I a joke to you?”

In comparison to the other members of the CoD, Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie is considered the strongest among them, acting as Dark Enchantress Cookie’s enforcer of her will.

They’re slightly larger then the average cookie, Dark Choco Cookie being able to reach up to where their neck is located. Their main weapon of choice is a halberd as they’re decked out in tough chocolate armor while wearing a dinosaur-like skull for a helmet.

One skill Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie pertains to is their beastmaster capabilities, not too different to Red Velvet Cookie, but cranked up ten-fold. When given enough time will have Harbinger Cookie tame even large beasts such as Cake Dragons.

Dark Enchantress Cookie has complete faith in Harbinger Cookie carrying out her orders, something that the other members caught onto. Did the both of them perhaps remembered each other before?

Relationship Charts Amongst the CoD

Pomegranate Cookie

[Admiration] “I would gladly serve under their reign..”’

Pomegranate Cookie grew to admire Harbinger Cookie to the point where she treats them similarly to Dark Enchantress Cookie, never would any disrespect head their way with Pomegranate Cookie around.

Has a rivalry with Licorice Cookie over favorites, leading to arguments over who gets to do the tasks Harbinger Cookie brings up. It leads to Pomegranate having to be around them often to prevent Licorice from swiping them from under her. You’re often annoyed at their bickering.

Has a portion of her room dedicated to you. Photos, old weapons you won’t miss, the damn body pillow she keeps tucked in her bed. Others may find it a little creepy, but Pomegranate could care less, she was just showing the extent her devotion goes.

[Admiration] “You can depend on me, I’ll never fail you!”

Licorice Cookie is all about trying to be a better cookie then Pomegranate with whatever you want him to, getting your praise and approval is his main motivator!

You get Dark Choco to handle whatever you need, you’re tired of having Licorice and Pomegranate butting heads with frequent arguments over their perceived achievements over one another.

Will have his licorice servants be at your beck and call, ready to take any orders you would like to request. May or may not summon some of them to swipe things from your room.

Red Velvet Cookie

[Trust] “My Lord/Lady has plans for the new world, I’ll be behind them until the end.”

Harbinger Cookie is a valiant fighter in the eyes of Red Velvet Cookie, training him under their wing. It’s an added bonus that you’re considerate of the cake hounds and other critters that you come across.

Nothing gets him more happy then seeing you being a loving caretaker to the cakes, playing around with them and giving them their treats. Endearing these creatures has only made him endear you more in return.

There is this lingering hint of jealousy he has when you’re too busy playing with the cake hounds with not enough time spent for him, then it would be a situation where he has to shoo them away so he could get to you!

Dark Choco Cookie

[Trust] “Me and them are not so different..”

You’re the only cookie Dark Choco could confide in with the darkness that lurks within his very soul. That trust only goes deeper that you understood him with his past…since you used to be a hero yourself, now having your fate lie within darkness.

Like Red Velvet, he respects your strength, believing that any cookie who could challenge you were simply foolish in their efforts, either ending up being crumbs or utterly defeated.

When he eventually leaves the CoD, he feels a sense of sorrow, knowing that your once pure soul has been tainted and corrupted by the darkness all around you. He wants to believe that you can still be saved and be the Cookie you once were, but as time goes by, that hope diminishes…

Poison Mushroom Cookie

[Friendly] “Have shroomies, they’ll make you feel better…!”

Harbinger Cookie can have their off days, this is where Poison Mushroom Cookie steps in. They never fail to put a smile on their face, offering shroomies to them to lighten up their attitude.

This is returned by Harbinger Cookie playing around Poison Mushroom, lifting them up and allowing them on their shoulder. It strikes the heartstrings of Pomegranate and Licorice Cookie watching Harbinger be a parent to Poison Mushroom!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie

[Friendly] “I can’t seem to pinpoint their ingredients, I’ll need further analysis on them!”

Harbinger Cookie was such an anomaly to Strawberry Crepe…and that’s what makes them so interesting to Crepe! The sheer mystery of what lies in Harbinger’s dough means Crepe is always ready for any opportunity to get a closer look.

You did find Strawberry’s shenanigans a little annoying, but you couldn’t fault the young cookie, they were only curious about what you’re made of, hell, you were to. Dark Enchantress wouldn’t allow it though and you couldn’t exactly go against her…

There’s also the squabbles between Crepe and Mushroom, both wanted your complete attention and neither were willing to cooperate with the other for your care. It leads to you and the others agreeing to never keep them in the same room for too long with you, a fight is the last thing you needed with the two cookies on your shoulders…

Dark Enchantress Cookie

[Friendly] “It’s good to welcome you home, my dear Y/N Cookie..”

Dark Enchantress Cookie, the cookie whom you’ve pledged your loyalty to, the cookie who’ll bring forth a new world, the cookie who brought you in when you were at your lowest..she gave you a second chance and you couldn’t have been more thankful for that.

The only cookie to know your “real name”, or at least she claimed it was. It made the interactions between you and her a lot more personal, as well as how touchy she could be with a hand on your arm or shoulder as she spoke to you.

The life you have now was better then the one you had, she’ll tell you. Just stick to her and she’ll give you the world and so much more, all you have to do is take her hand and never let go..