#coven!gaz

[docdudo]

Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

This was hell.

Actually, you truly believed hell must be kinder than whatever the hell was happening to your body these past few days.

Should you call the support line after all?

And to think it was all your boss’s fault. If that jerk hadn’t made you work overtime and close the stupid convenience store without any warning, maybe you could have found a way to get home safely.

But nooooo...

Now thanks to that, you were attacked on your way home after work.

Attacked in the middle of the night, on a week day, too far from any houses for anyone to hear the commotion.

And it had been a vampire.

You didn’t know much about vampires. Their species was way too mysterious and reserved with outsiders. That’s not to say they didn’t interact with humans—because they did, especially with the wealthy—but it was one of those situations where someone like you would never get the chance to speak with one.

They were high society. Big families that controlled entire cities and states. Like the Mafia or some shit, living in the rich part of town that you had never even set foot in before.

Although, you had heard of vampires appearing here and there sometimes, walking around through the city quietly and discreetly when problems needed to be solved.

Problems like feral vampires.

Loners cast aside from their Covens for one reason or another, now crazed and out of control, following their bloodlust blindly. They killed as easily as any vampire did, even if their only focus was to drink their victims' blood.

Dangerous creatures...

They were rare—incredibly so—since it was the responsibility of the high covens to protect the normal folk from ferals. They rarely appeared in other vampires' territory, fearing the powerful presence of their own kind.

But sometimes...

Sometimes, a new one would appear from far away, starved and crazed like most of them were by that point. And usually they managed to kill one victim before the covens hunted them down to kill them for good.

So it was very important to call the right number to report feral vampires in the area.

Should you have done that? Yes, you should have. You really should have. But you were so. freaking. tired.

You were a college student working part-time at a convenience store. After waking up from your near-death experience, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. In fact, for a good while after waking up, you even thought you had hallucinated everything. You went home like it was just another night, your mind drifting, more absent than present.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

But, when you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning...

You were supposed to be dead. Someone would find your body—drained and wounded—and call the feral hotline. Vampires would show up, deal with the feral with minimal effort, and make sure the area was secured again. That’s just how it goes.

EXCEPT!

You are fucking alive!!

You didn’t even know that was possible—a feral giving up on its prey after pinning it down instead of just killing it for the blood.

It was talking, too—mumbling nonsense by your ear, like it was actually trying to communicate with you.

It bit you, injecting its venom.

Your skin was horribly marked now. The wounds that had once been there had all turned into thin layers of scar tissue. Not the usual kind, but one formed by the venom injected into your bloodstream. The red and black layers against your otherwise normal skin tone made it look like the weirdest tattoo you’d ever seen—like you were a broken porcelain doll with satan himself trying to break free from inside out.

It started at your neck, on your left shoulder, blooming into an ugly, messy bite that was definitely the most obvious problem there.

It went down your left arm and chest, streaks that looked like veins, or cracks.

The artwork was completed by ending on the wounds you’d gotten on your lower body while fighting off the vampire on top of you—scrapes around your hips and legs.

At least you actually searched a bit about vampires after that, panicking hard over the weird markings on your skin. The only and most important thing you needed to know was whether ferals could transform humans or not.

Which, unsurprisingly, they could.

At least, in theory.

They still have their venom, but when they go feral, they usually just want to drink blood from their victims blindly, and the venom is mostly forgotten. There was never a case of a feral actually turning someone into a vampire!

Maybe that feral wasn’t as far gone as the others...

But now, this was somehow your problem! You barely knew anything about vampires', or how they worked in the first place!

What do they even do after transforming someone?

Are you really a vampire now??

Why did you have the ugliest markings all over your body after being bitten, when you’d never heard of vampires leaving markings like this???

And why the hell was your boss still making you go to work after you told him you were attacked late at night last week, the asshole?!?!

Maybe you should’ve specified it was a vampire who attacked you, but you were scared to face what had happened. What had been done to you, and what you might now become. Do you need to speak to vampires now? Are you actually one? You don't even have any fangs or anything different besides the markings...

You had so much to do—so many projects left unfinished for school. You never missed class, not even when you were sick. But now that you’ve become a completely different species…

"Dearie, what happened to you??"

You were startled by the worried voice of an old lady close to you, making you look up from the chip bags you had been staring at for a solid five minutes in the middle of the aisle.

You glanced back at her for a few seconds before turning your gaze to your own body, looking down at your neck and collarbone where the giant marking started, barely hidden by the collar of your work shirt.

"Oh, it's... dunno, a birthmark." You mumble, tired, not really caring much for a better excuse.

You were so tired lately... what the hell even happened? You always had that healthy college student tiredness from working and studying, but it never made your body feel this heavy.

If you were any more weak-minded, you might have just stayed in bed forever.

But then again, college student.

"It doesn't look like one…." The woman squinted, analyzing your neck like it was her fucking business.

Okay, maybe you were also a bit more irritaded than normal.

"Ma'am, it's nothing. Can I help you with something?" You force a smile, though it’s more cynical than polite, as you weren’t really in the mood to be that polite to people who couldn’t mind their own business.

She stared at you for a few more long seconds in complete silence, her eyes squinting as she made that slow, long hum that old people make when they're being casually judgmental.

"That's a vampire thing, isn't it?" A middle-aged man appeared around the corner, his eyes also drifting to your neck as he tilted his head to the side. "It looks like a vampire bite on your neck..."

This guy you actually know—Thomas, from the real estate office nearby—who always comes to buy a snack around this time of day.

"How did you even get to that conclusion...?" You mumble, frowning slightly in annoyance.

"For one, I can see two teeth marks on your neck, clearly. Second, have you not seen the news? There's a feral mosquito zooming around our area. He was spotted last week and still hasn't been caught."

The old lady gasped in shock, eyes wide as she turned back to you.

"Have you been attacked, dear?!"

Well, fuck. So much for ignoring the problem until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.

"I guess..." You shrug, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up your left shoulder from the action.

"You guess?? You should’ve called the hotline if you were attacked!" Thomas frowned, just as confused as he was indignant.

"You don’t get it, I have so much going on right now..." You groan tiredly, already slipping into a depressive mood as you remember all the work you still had to do for your classes.

"What does that even have to do wit—?!"

"Hey, what's with the commotion?!"

You sighed heavily at your boss’s loud voice booming through the store, the balding man approaching with a huffy expression, slightly controlled thanks to the two clients standing with you in the aisle.

"Didn't know you were at the store today, mr. Miller...." You mumble softly, trying to dodge the last subject.

"I wasn’t supposed to be! But we all received a notification—there’s a Coven coming here to deal with the fucking feral!" He grunts, clearly annoyed. "I came to close the store; apparently, those snobby suckers want all businesses closed to make their work easier."

"Oh no, don’t tell me that…" Thomas sighs, suffering, pulling his phone from his pocket immediately to start a call with what you can only assume is his manager, turning away from the group.

"Does that mean I can go?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you point hesitantly at the glass door.

"Oh, you have to let her go, she needs to go to the hospital...!" The old lady quickly agrees, nodding with the most pitiful look on her face.

"Hey, hey, wait a sec, who said anything about a hospital—?"

"You still haven’t checked the fucking mark consuming your neck? Are you trying to kill yourself, girly??" Mr. Miller interrupts, glaring at you like this situation isn’t part of his fault.

"What the hell? You didn’t give me any days off??" You sputter, indignant.

"I have only you and that stoned kid right now, I can't afford to give any days off! You should go when you have time, like everyone else who works!"

You’re ready to probably yell back at his face when Thomas quickly runs back to the group, a bit desperate as he fumbles with his bags and cellphone.

"They're already here...! I have to go back too!"

"Yeah, I should be going too! Hit me up when you're uptaded, Mr. Miller! Thanks so much, bye-bye!" You say quickly, running out the door after Thomas, your backpack already over your shoulder.

You couldn't even focus on your boss' loud ass voice as you hurried down the street, your head pounding relentlessly. Ever since you got bitten, this had been your reality—splitting headaches, aching muscles, no appetite, itchy gums, and, above all, a bone-deep exhaustion.

To be fair, some of the symptoms were still pretty mild. But deep down, a gnawing fear told you something was off. You could barely wrap your head around the fact that you were actually turning (had already turned?) into a vampire. But feeling like absolute crap made you wonder… what if something was going wrong?

You should call the hotline. You should go to the hospital. Just get it over with—at least get some help. But wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t it make things even more complicated? And what would the all-powerful vampires do with you then?

God, you can’t graduate if you miss too many assignments in a row!

Don’t you have that group project due in two weeks—the one no one in your group has even said a peep about?

A small noise from the other side of the otherwise silent street caught your attention, your head snapping up in alert. The street was empty—of both cars and people, as usual—except for the two men standing by the closed pet store.

And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.

They were dressed strangely, a mix of military style and high-end fashion. Clearly rich. Heavy black clothes with small pops of color, loaded with pockets and belts. Their boots—thick, heavy, the kind that could break your bones with a single kick.

But that wasn’t the weird part...

No, the weird part was how much of their faces they were covering. One of the men wore a heavy jacket, with a hood and beanie pulled up to hide his jet-black hair. A black surgical mask—like the kind you'd see in a hospital—covered his face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

The other… good lord, he had to be around three meters tall. Sure, vampires were naturally bigger than humans, but still… what the hell? This guy was wearing a full veil over his head, black, with suspicious red streaks running down it, and his heavy clothes hid the rest of his body just as much.

They... they had to be vampires, right...?

You flinched when the man wearing sunglasses suddenly snapped his head in your direction. His face was completely hidden, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The other man too turned in your direction slowly, now both of them facing you, completely still.

It truly seemed as if time had stopped for a few moments. No one moved or made a sound. You weren’t sure what to do. The ugly markings on your skin—too high on your neck to be hidden by your snug polo work shirt—seemed to burn under their stares.

You can't take this anymore.

Without thinking, you immediately turned around and tried to make your way back to the convenience store, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

But you didn’t even manage to take a single step forward.

"What is this?" the man wearing sunglasses asked, his voice rough and quiet.

You jumped in place, a small hiccup escaping your lips in surprise as you felt heavy hands settle on your shoulders, keeping you still.

How did they get to you so fast?? You were on the other side of the street!

"Fledgling." The other man spoke even more gruffly, tilting his head down to see you properly. His veil was falling forward just enough for you to almost see his face beneath it.

You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.

"W-Wha—"

Your stuttered words were interrupted by the veiled man's big, heavy hand tilting your head up gently, while his partner unbuttoned your polo shirt, pulling the cloth aside to reveal more of the damaged area.

"Abused by their Sire." The veiled man growled lowly in anger, his voice still mostly quiet as he analyzed the markings. You could clearly hear a distinctive German accent in his words. "Who? It's just our Coven here."

"There were visiting Covens not that long ago." The other one also spoke with an accent—something Asian, it seemed—but you couldn't quite place it.

"Too fresh. This is a just-turned."

"E-Excuse me—"

"This is a grievous sin against nature itself." The Asian man growled, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound of his growl sent a shiver through you, paralyzing you slightly. "She didn't even complete the transformation."

"Fledgling, who is your Sire?" the German muttered slowly, forcing your head slightly higher so you had to look up at him.

Now they quieted down, letting you speak. Though you didn't really want to right now—not when you didn't understand what the hell they were saying.

"M-My... my what...?" You mumble anxiously, looking up in between both of their covered faces.

...

"Scheißdreck!" The veiled man cursed gruffly, his hands immediately going under your armpits to lift you up as if you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise.

"I did think the tribunal was too quiet recently," the Asian guy grunted, his arms crossed firmly as he watched you squirm slightly in panic in the bigger man's arms. "They're gonna love to hear about this."

"And the feral?" the German asked quietly, gently immobilizing you against him, tapping your back in small motions to calm you down.

"The others are here. No matter how smart a feral, they are easy targets. We have more important matters to attend to now. Isn't that right, Fledgling?"

You whimpered slightly in fear and confusion, your head pressed against the taller vampire's shoulder.

"How are we going to deal with this...?" The German sounded slightly calmer now, less aggressive with you in his arms. "This is serious, Horangi, a crime of this caliber..."

"I know, König. The tribunal will deal with that. For now, we keep her close. How about her teeth?"

You felt your body being slightly adjusted to lay more against the big guy's body, his giant hand coming up to your mouth to push his fingers inside it.

"No way!" you hissed defensively, trying to turn your head from side to side to avoid him.

"Shh, Fledgling. You're okay, stay calm. Open up." You let out a grunt in surprise and indignation as Horangi stepped forward, forcing his fingers into your mouth while König held your head in place. "Ha, it's what we thought. A fresh fledgling. Her teeth haven't even fallen out yet." He laughed without humor, shaking his head slightly as he let go.

"F-Fall out?? W-Wait, t-this is...! O-Oh, God..."

You whimpered, getting overwhelmed. This was precisely why you didn’t want to deal with the attack and transformation matter. And a tribunal?? You were so busy, living alone, and you couldn’t miss work—much less miss your classes.

"You are tired, Liebchen. Your body is taking a toll after the bad transformation. Settle, we'll take care of things." He patted your back gently a few times.

"She has a ton of venom in her bloodstream, and she's still awake. Rock her a bit, and she should fall back asleep quickly. I'm calling Laswell."

God Fucking Dammit!!

[teletubbyinlipstick]

...okay, hear me out, just please hear me out, ur honor. Minors DNI 🔞

Witch!Reader who lives in a cute cottage in the woods; chicken, ducks, goats, and the likes run amuck the yard. She's got 5 cats, and recently, there's a black cat that keeps wondering closer, wary but curious.

She has no doubt in her mind it'll soon be 6 cats wreaking havoc around her property.

Witch!Reader is a nature specialist who has a good hand in healing and flowers (teehehe), and her 4 husbands are all too happy to get whatever she needs for her crafts.

They're protective and giving; doting and so sweet in their ways.

John Price is a grizzly bear shifter that has a yearly ritual of migrating downstream for 3 weeks in late winter. Unfortunately, the reader isn't able to go until the last week of his migration; as all winter, she must be at her cabin, her and her powers as dormant and sleepy as the earth around them. When she's finally able to see her beloved again, she's often in tears sniffling softly into his burly chest.

He coos and cuddles her into his arms, scenting her thoroughly, soft chuffs coming from deep within his sternum.

He's missed her just as much.

Then there's Simon Riley, a grey wolf shifter who stands 8ft at shoulder height when in wolf form. He's protective and spends 2hrs in the morning patrolling the area and remarking his scent (pissing-straight up) to warn others who may lurk around at the smell of a young witch with no coven. He then spends an hour at night giving a final patrol, Johnny and Price often tag along for this one. They've noticed gremlins travel closer near fall when they themselves migrate to the caves up north.

Gremlins are tricky, though, onry by nature and have no qualms targeting and stealing from younglings of all kinds if they think they can get away with it.

Gaz took the liberty of snapping a gremlins neck after it threw poor witch!reader across the yard, diving for some duck eggs. The boys spend the better part of two days soothing her sore body.

Lots of dick to help :)).

Speaking of Gaz, Kyle is a water nymph, his deep connection to water, and by association, nature cause him and the reader to bond fastest. It was him who kissed her first, who got to put her legs over his shoulders first, and he's a bit arrogant about it. This has landed him face down ass up while Johnny shows him where to shove his arrogance, milking him until he's begging for a break. Gaz is cheeky though, he pouts up at Price thinking Johnny will get the same treatment instead it ended with both of them bent over, cheeks red and spanked raw with a vibrator taped to their cocks.

Price leaves them with a firm "learn to get along, boys." Said boys can hear him mumbling about 'unruly cubs' as he leaves.

Johnny is a faery, more specifically a Ghillie Dhu. Him and Simon met first in the dense Scottish highlands. Simon was wounded, and in the months it took to heal, Johnny had wormed his way into his heart. It was only after they both traveled across borders that they stumbled upon the readers' cottage. It took less then two weeks, and Simon caught her riding Johnny in the chicken coop. 2 eggs cracked on the ground beside them where the basket had tipped over. Reader had been terribly apologetic trying to get off of Johnny, but the fae kept her grounded with big hands on her hips, planting his feet firmly before pistoning up into her repeatedly. The sweet witch had no choice but to take it, eyes rolled back and twitching cutely as she squirted on the faeries chest.

Upon returning to earth, the coop was covered in flowers and overgrown vines. Her face erupted red she's never orgasmed so hard she grew things unintentionally. The two men cooed, and she then noticed they had moved her out of the hut and onto Simon's shirt he so nicely laid out for her.

Let's just say they put the rabbits to shame that evening.

Sweet Witch!Reader, who loves her big, strong husbands ❤️ loves when they paw at her while she bats her eyelashes so sweetly. Loves when they take her anywhere and everywhere. She can see the worry on their face when she's in a clearing practicing a new spell. Especially when it goes a lil haywire, and she ends up with a 2nd degree burn across her right leg. Hiccuping into Gazs chest as Price works a healing salve on her leg. She gets a good, long, orgasm for her trouble dopey smile on her face, a hazy content look in her eyes after.

The burn long forgotten.

Anyways lemme know if yall want more lmaoo

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; soap earns himself the silent treatment. meanwhile, you prepare for your confrontation with makarov, summoning back an old friend under the half-moon.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The drive back to their shared home was long, tense and quiet, each second stretching painfully over the old car’s steady rumble. Johnny sat in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the passing scenery rather than risk another glance at Price’s set jaw and narrowed eyes. 

When they pulled into the driveway, the late afternoon light painted their home bright. The front door creaked as Price pushed it open, his silence as heavy as a reprimand. Johnny followed, his head down.

Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. 

Gaz leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Ghost stood near the window, hands shoved into his pockets, staring out as if he expected to see something—someone—materialize on the empty street. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny’s return.

Price took off his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and let out a weary sigh. He moved to join Gaz at the island. Laswell’s reports and notes lay scattered on the table: printed documents, scribbled post-its, and a few articles of speculation. They’d been working through the little information Leah had given them—threads of truth knotted with curses and creatures—trying to find something solid to hold onto.

Johnny dared not speak first. The weight of what he had done—going after you alone, risking everything—clung to him like a bad scent. He accepted their silent punishment. He deserved it. Instead, he busied himself in his room with his laptop, firing it up and tapping into old forums, messaging a few trusted contacts. If you wouldn’t return to them, perhaps they could come to you. But how?

He opened a private browser and typed out careful inquiries on niche forums and subreddits dedicated to the occult and magical communities. He knew from experience that if any place could confirm whether outsiders were welcome in the territory the Le Fay line looked after, it would be one of these hidden corners of the internet. He kept his questions vague, professional, and patient. After all, desperation would only draw suspicion.

Johnny’s typing slowed. Magical territory and old coven lands. His search queries grew more specific, more desperate. He tapped into old friend groups—people he’d worked small jobs with before—and sent cautious feelers out. Was the Le Fay territory open to outsiders? Could one simply visit, no matter their magical alignment?

It was a long shot. But after all that had happened, long shots were all they had left.

In the meantime, Gaz’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. Casting a look toward Price, then Ghost—who didn’t meet his eyes—Gaz spoke quietly, his voice subdued but deliberate. “My mum texted back.” 

Gaz scrolled through the message with quick, flicks of his thumb, his brow furrowed deeply. After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before setting his phone down.

“She says the parasite’s nature looks vampiric,” he began, tone heavy with reluctant focus. “Something like a succubus—feeding off essence, corrupting bonds. Apparently, it’s rare.”

Silence fell again, each man processing the update. Ghost’s gaze remained fixed out the window, jaw tight beneath his balaclava. Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if to summon some revelation. Gaz, meanwhile, fiddled with his phone, the screen lighting up intermittently as he switched between texts and notes.

“Anything else?” Price asked after a long moment, his voice subdued but probing.

Gaz hesitated, then groaned as if the answer physically pained him. “Yeah…another essay from Mum. Not just about the parasite—she’s scolding me again.” He paused, his tone dipping into annoyed disbelief. “And she’s got a suggestion. One I really wish she didn’t.”

“What kind of suggestion?” Price asked, leaning forward.

Gaz shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?” Price pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Gaz hesitated again, his fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of his phone. “Because it’s invasive. Dangerous. And honestly? Pretty desperate.” His voice grew quieter, more strained. “Besides… we’re past the point where it could help. She knows that.”

“Let us decide that,” Price countered firmly. “What’s she suggesting?”

Gaz didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere on the table in front of him. He sighed deeply, as if bracing himself, and muttered, “It’s a procedure. Something to… extract her current whereabouts.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Ghost turned his head slightly, his gaze sharp but unreadable. Price’s expression darkened, his voice dropping into a near-growl.

“Explain.”

. . .

The air was thick with the scent of herbs and damp earth as you pushed open the heavy glass door to your Mom’s greenhouse. Inside, the warm glow of lanterns lit rows of pots and planters arranged with meticulous care. Rich, loamy scents mingled with floral notes, and your Mom—ever careful and nurturing—sat in her wheelchair at the far end of the main aisle, a soft shawl draped over her shoulders. Horangi stood nearby, his watchful eyes drifting between you and the delicate seedlings he’d been tending to.

“There you are, my darling,” your Mom said, her voice carrying easily through the hush of growing things. She maneuvered forward, the hand-like appendages of her enchanted chair adapting seamlessly to the uneven floor. “I’ve set aside the moon-bloom petals and dried bloodberry leaves you’ll need. They’re potent wards against vampiric auras.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice quieter than intended. Sybil sneezed at your side, her nose twitching at the array of scents. From overhead, the lanternlight flickered, sending shadows dancing across your Mom’s features as she passed you a small wooden box. “Use these wisely. The petals especially—you know they react best under moonlight. One whiff of these and even the slyest vampire should think twice before approaching.”

You nodded, slipping the box into your satchel. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised, lips pressed into a determined line.

Horangi stepped forward, extending a vial of something oily and dark. “For your dagger,” he said simply, his voice low and respectful. “Coat it before the fight. If he tries to heal, this will slow him down.”

You accepted it with a murmured thanks, meeting both his gaze and your Mom’s. They nodded, and you caught a glimmer in her eyes—something tender, something that might have been regret or remorse if she knew how to let it show. She extended her hand, placing it softly over yours. 

“You’re stronger than you know,” your Mom said, her tone quieter than usual, more personal. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You realized, with a sudden ache, that this was her way of apologizing, of acknowledging the cost of everything that had come before. She wouldn’t say it outright—she never would. But in this subtle gesture, in this show of faith and support, she was offering something close to atonement. It wasn’t enough, not for all the scars you carried, but it was more than you’d ever expected.

The silence that followed felt heavy, not with tension, but with the weight of understanding. You nodded, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you spoke.

“I know” you managed at last, your words thin but sincere.

She let her hand slip away gently, and you stepped back from the table. With that, you turned and made your way out of the greenhouse, back into the manor’s long corridors. The transition was stark: from warm, humid air scented with vegetation to cooler hallways lit by candles in their sconces. The old wood floors creaked softly underfoot, each step echoing back. Sybil padded silently beside you, the gentle click of her nails on the floor the only constant sound.

König appeared at the end of the corridor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly waiting for you. Since your confrontation, his demeanor had shifted in subtle ways—you caught a glimpse of regret in how he carried himself, uncertainty in how he set his shoulders.

He approached, inclining his head. “Need help with anything else?” he asked, voice lower than usual, as if not to startle you. “I could fetch more supplies, or…..”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a once-over. “So helpful today, aren’t we?” The words came out sharper than you intended. 

His shoulders tensed, but he managed a nod, contrite. “….I know you don’t trust me fully. But I’m with you on this. Whatever you need.”

You let a moment pass, watching him, gauging his sincerity. “Fine.” A sigh escaped your lips as you led him down the hallway. “I need to pick up a few texts from the library. Spells for binding, wards that might hold a vampire if I can’t kill him outright.” You spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing a grocery list rather than tools for murder.

König followed you to the library, a vast room lined with shelves so tall that rolling ladders were needed to reach the uppermost volumes. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings wrapped around you, comforting in its familiarity.

“I’ve never seen so many books on curses and wards,” König murmured, craning his neck to read spines bearing cryptic symbols. His tone was less guarded now, genuinely curious. “When you were away… with the pack, did you manage to study much magic, or were you more focused on…”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, not missing his subtle attempt to pry more about your life with the pack. Still, you needed him cooperative. You pulled out a thick tome with a silver clasp, setting it on a nearby table. “I studied what I could, here and there,” you replied vaguely. “Different priorities back then. Different goals.”

He nodded, accepting the non-answer without protest. “I see. Just… trying to understand.”

You snorted softly, flipping through the pages until you found the section on vampiric wards. “Don’t try too hard,” you said, but not unkindly. “Just make sure you’re ready to hold your own if things get messy.”

König cleared his throat. “I’ll go check on our transport. Make sure it's ready.”

You inclined your head, watching him depart with measured steps. At least he was trying, in his own way. Turning back to the shelf, you selected another slim volume and tucked it under your arm. 

Gathering a few other volumes, you adjusted the weighty satchel on your shoulder and stepped back out into the hallway. The manor’s corridors were quiet, Sybil following close, her tail brushing against your leg as you walked.

A young maid passed by, balancing a small tray of linens in her arms. You raised a hand, catching her eye, and she immediately dipped her head in a respectful nod, coming to a halt. Her posture was wary but attentive, her gaze flicking briefly toward Sybil before settling on you.

“I need you to take these, please,” you said, your tone even, gesturing to the satchel and the extra texts tucked under your arm, “and deliver them to my room. After that, find Fiona—tell her I want her to bring all necessary things to the pond behind the property.”

You paused, making sure the maid understood. “She’ll know what I mean.”

The maid blinked, curiosity dancing behind her lowered gaze. She hesitated only a moment before carefully accepting the offered items. “Yes, miss,” she replied softly, her voice steady if subdued. Then, adjusting her hold on the bundle, she hurried down the corridor, her footsteps echoing faintly as she went.

You then set off once again, the next steps of your plan falling quietly into place.

. . .

The moon was half, casting a silver-blue sheen over the property’s secluded pond. It's still surface reflected the stars and the faint outline of trees, painting a quiet, sacred picture. Barefoot, and dressed only in a light robe-like garment that fell loosely around your frame, you could feel every blade of grass, every pebble beneath your feet. Wearing nothing underneath was your way of showing humility and respect, a tradition you had failed to fulfill during your previous attempt at this ritual.

Sybil trotted beside you, her soft white fur catching the half-moon’s glow. She stayed close but unobtrusive. The scent of damp earth and evening blooms filled your lungs as you approached the pond’s edge, each step slow and deliberate.

Fiona awaited you there, her posture calm and reverent. She wore a simple veil draped over her hair and eyes, a gesture of respect for what was to come. At her feet lay a small bundle of ingredients wrapped in clean linen. When you reached her, she inclined her head wordlessly.

“Everything is here, as you requested,” Fiona said softly, lifting the linen to reveal sprigs of rosemary, thyme, and lavender. She placed a small pouch of salt at the edge of the cloth, and then bowed her head again.

You nodded, acknowledging her with a quiet “Thank you,” and Fiona departed, her footsteps fading into the hush of the night. You and Sybil were left alone with the whispering wind and the faint chorus of crickets.

Kneeling by the pond, you carefully mixed the herbs—rosemary for protection, thyme for courage, lavender for clarity. The handful of salt followed, grounding the mixture and purifying it. All that remained was a drop of your blood. You pressed the tip of a small, clean blade against your thumb and let a single red bead drip onto the mixture. The herbs and salt seemed to hush even further, as if waiting for the next step.

Sybil watched on, ears perked, as you swirled the mixture gently in the water at the pond’s edge. The night air seemed to still, and you could almost feel the veil between worlds thinning once again. The soft glow of the moon on the water’s surface danced as you murmured her name under your breath:

“Nimue,” you whispered, voice steady despite the thudding of your heart. “Lady of the Lake.”

At first, there was nothing but silence and the gentle lap of water against the shore. Then the surface of the pond began to shimmer, the reflection of the moonlight twisting, bending, as though disturbed from beneath. Slowly, Nimue emerged, her dark, damp hair clinging to her neck. She rose until her shoulders were visible, her arms folded softly over the edge of the water as if resting on an invisible ledge.

Nimue tilted her head, her eyes ancient and calm. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your robe’s hem brush lightly against the edge. You reached out, not for a weapon or a spell, but for her hand, which hovered just above the pond’s mirror-like surface. Her skin was cool to the touch, and as you brought her hand closer, you pressed your lips gently to her knuckles, closing your eyes briefly in deference.

“So thou rememberest the old ways,” quoth Nimue, her voice like distant chimes. “Aye, centuries have passed since any did greet me so. The last time… King Arthur himself knelt at these waters and pressed his lips to my hand, his heart full of quest and longing. Thou dost do him proud, child.”

She regarded you more closely, a wry tilt to her pale brow. “Of course, ’tis no mere happenstance that thou sharest the blood of mine wretched—albeit misunderstood—sister’s line. The old ties run deep, and fate weaveth her tapestry most strangely indeed.”

As you let her hand go, she regarded you with a gentle tilt of her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Verily, much hath changed since last we met. Whether for better or ill, I cannot yet say.”

You straightened, shoulders squared despite the humility of your attire and bare feet. “Nimue,” you began, respectful but firm, “I have not called you for counsel. I would like you to know what I am about to do.”

Her gray eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity lighting their depths. “Oh?” she breathed, as soft as the breeze across the pond.

Your heart tensed at the memory of the frim task before you. “I’m going to do what must be done to claim my rightful place as the future leader of the coven. I have to face Vladimir Makarov and take his head,” you said, voice unwavering even as your pulse thundered. “This isn’t a request or a plea. It’s a statement of intent. He dared to make me his prey, and I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Nimue said nothing. She studied you in the moonlight, her silence weighted with centuries of wisdom and memory. Sybil nudged your leg, and you absently stroked her fur, refusing to break eye contact with the Lady of the Lake.

Nimue finally inclined her head, the faintest ripple spreading across the pond’s surface. “I see thou hast grown indeed,” she said, her tone holding quiet acknowledgment. “Whether thy path leadeth to glory or ruin is not mine to say, but I acknowledge thy choice.”

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s all I needed,” you said quietly. “Just to tell someone beyond the coven’s whispers that I’m about to do this. To mark this moment, as Arthur once did when he knelt at these waters seeking the great sword.”

She smiled again, subtle and distant, as though recalling a memory eons old. The hush of the night pressed in around you, the water reflecting faint starlight and your own resolve.

“Very well,” Nimue concluded softly, “I have borne witness.”

With that, she began to sink beneath the surface, her eyes lingering on you until the last moment before the water stilled, as if she had never emerged. Only the echoes of her voice remained, woven into the quiet darkness.

You sat there for a while. No longer a plea, no longer a question—just a path chosen, a destiny embraced, and an ancient power bearing silent witness to what you would soon become.

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[thegreyjoyed]

Okay so thoughts on familiar!reader and witch!141….

Witch!141 x Familiar!Reader

TF141 were originally women(witches) but magically transitioned into men so mtf!141 as well!

Possible series maybe? I don’t know.. I love this idea though so possibly

> They all HAD pretty powerful familiars, maybe a orc for Soap, Harpy shifter for Gaz, a shadow demon for Ghost and a small drake for Price

> In terms of how powerful a familiar is it depends on what they are and how old they are. So their familiars would all be over 200 yrs old

> Maybe this coven of witches is about 150/200 years old themselves.. so they know what’s going on just about everywhere with their connections

> Maybe it’s Soap or Gaz who sent out their familiars on a “quest” to go collect something needed in a spell, only for them to feel like something is missing.. when they go to tug on that bond to their familiars….

> That bond is extremely weak, when they peer into their familiar’s eyes, they’re too slow. Their familiar is dead!

>Price is probably the one who made the wards and when Soap or Gaz goes up to price and tells them what happened, he’d try and tell them the same damn thing because all of the 141 familiars are fairly interconnected and price found out through his highly intelligent drake

>Soap is extremely distraught but luckily he can fall back on one of his husbands’ familiars, as they were all connected and can use each other’s magic

> Gaz’s familiar disappears next- this time within the wards, Price had already went to try and investigate the intrusion on their space because he couldn’t tell what it was even with the eyes everywhere or even through the magic of the wards

>Ghost accompanies Price because his is the strongest and the oldest. However.. they come across you. They’re shocked. Completely. Your form constantly changing, a REAL shapeshifter- a changeling.

>Changelings are extremely rare, only appearing after a certain age, they’re one of the most powerful types of familiars, and the oldest living ones. They only begin to show themselves after a thousand years of living.

> You, however look to be several thousands of years old. You’re changing and shifting at the blink of an eye, destroying the last two familiars of the 141 coven. You’ve left them completely powerless, completely useless as witches, Price can no longer enforce his wards, they’d dissipate soon.

> Price and Ghost are furious.. but they know better than to not fight a changeling, afterall Ghost had once almost lost his life to one when another witch had attempted to kill him with her familiar, a younger changeling.

>The four men regroup fully at their cottage, their home base. They’re completely shocked at what’s happened, unable to hardly defend themselves with true magic, only able to use the spells they’ve kept away and the runic magic Price could do

> They do the smart thing and contact a close friend, Laswell. She had a fairly powerful Changeling as a familiar. So that’s what they did. They spoke with the witch on the phone and so she planned out a visit to come to the coven’s home.

——

New idea? Maybe a series?

[emmster]

I love the art of Price's coven, just a question and I hope it dowsnt have a mean tone to it because I promise I'm not trying to be mean. But if you thought Roach into Price's coven, who do you think turned him if he was now turned into a vampire??? ❤️

Roach figured out that they were all vampires a while ago. He just sorta hung around them a lot and became their roommate. He doesn't get bit by them because they like them. Then Gaz mentioned something about going out hunting and asked if Roach wanted to come. Roach says he doesn't have to because he isn't a vampire. Then Gaz kinda just blinks because he thought Roach was one. Mutters that no one tells him anything and then asks Roach if he wants to be one. Roach says no because he's already some type of different crypted monster anyways (not sure what) and says his blood will probably kill them if they try to turn him anyways. Roach just thinks they're cool guys and hangs out with them.

[blingblong55]

All I can think of now is a proper what we do in the shadows! 141 AU, where the gang are a coven of vampires and there’s a documentary crew following them around. 🫧

Price is the oldest, perhaps a famous outlaw from over a thousand years ago. He views his coven as his children.

Gaz has been his companion for the longest. He was a knight or a soldier. Price has fought in a few wars to give himself something to do over the years, but couldn’t stand the thought of his new comrade and pseudo-child Kyle getting killed. He was far too young to die, so Price made sure he wouldn’t.

He met Ghost next when he was running one of his many criminal empires (again, he wanted something to do). Ghost had joined as a low level thug but quickly worked up the ranks to become one of his inner-circle. He was a cold blooded killer with little remorse - or so Price thought. Once he’s come to know of Simon’s upbringing and life, filled with hardship and pain, John knew he couldn’t just leave the lost soul alone. He deserved a chance to heal and make real, lasting connections with people who wouldn’t hurt or leave him, so Price turned him.

Soap and Grim are the newest additions to the coven. One of them probably became his familiar after being dared by the other, and they quickly worked their way into his unbeating heart. Price worried a lot for his two youngest children and they were giving him grey hairs after thousands of years without (how could be not worry with their love of explosives and lack of self preservation?) so he decided that, so he could keep a good eye on them and make sure that they didn’t get hurt, Johnny and R/n should join him and his older children in undeath.

Price was wary of the crew filming this ‘documentary’ about them, but his two youngest just seemed so happy to have new friends to play with, so he allowed it. Ghost would be the most guarded, happily taking care of a few of the crew who got too close, thought it would be funny to come to work with a crucifix in their pocket, or made a snide comment towards one of his family. Gaz is cheeky, friendly, and happy to joke around with them, and probably gives them the most actually useful information. He’s the only reason the documentary can actually be called factual or educational. Soap and Grim are happy to have new people to mess with. They like to jumpscare the crew by flying in their face as bats, appear out of nowhere, hypnotise them and convince them to act silly, and stage nerf gun wars with everyone in the house - cameramen included.

hear me out!

Graves is Simon the Devious (ironic ik)

The cameramen never get used to this, never. Price, oh that poor man, he wishes at times he didn't have a soft spot for his children but then again, this is what he chose

I would also like to introduce the two dumb little young vampires, Johnny and grim, not only did they both dare each other to become familiars but their dumbasses didn't know the other was going to go through with it!!! They end up finding out when Gaz introduces them to each other...

Three days into being familiars, they set off a bomb, nearly kills them but father senses tingle and Price finds them in time.

Five days into being familiars, they nearly die in six explosions, 2 car accidents and one orea choking accident, so that's when Price decides its time to make them vampires, he knows they are unkillable unless they step into the sun, which they almost have....14 times so far-...make that 15 times

[itsa-me-lily]

@nightunite putting this here to maybe pull out next Halloween.

But thoughts on Vampire Soap who’s a little technically challenged.

He’s not the youngest vampire in the coven (that’s Gaz) but he was turned before the invention of the computer or the internet. So one day Gaz brings home this absolute clunker of a machine and is all excited because this was the BIG THING before he was turned and needed to learn to be a civilized vamp. It takes forever to get the damn thing connected to the internet because Simon keeps thinking the cable guys are just on delivery snacks. But oh boy once they do? It’s slow as fuck but it’s still amazing for them. They can now look up anything? Anywhere in the world? What do you mean the silent movies have color now AND SOUND?????

So there’s a good year and a half of just exploration and getting so many fucking viruses (they do end up hiring someone to help teach them safe internet practices). Soap falls for the singles in your area scam every time because well…he’s a little lonely. Before he turned there was a bonnie thing he had an eye on but well…immortality ya?

So after the nth virus, Ms internet safety instructor tells soap about online dating because maybe that will at least keep the computer clean for a week this time. And it opens a whole new can of worms because now soap has to understand how cameras work, instant messenger blows his mind, and he’s catfished so. Many. Fucking. Times.

But he preservers, and he’s seemed to have found someone that makes his undead heart yearn, and they seem to actually be real! And themselves! So now he just has to get them to him because well…he doesn’t travel well.

[random-thots-masterlist]

Random Thot’s Masterlist

Symbol Key:

🌶️- sexually explicit 

🥵- spicy; sexy language and/or situations. No explicit sex

🍒- hints of spice. No reason to clutch your pearls.

💔- angst; hurt/no comfort

💕- fluff 

😈- dark/yandere content - may be triggering! Mind the tags!

🤡- crack (humor/funny elements)

-

Holiday themed fics - 🎄(Christmas/Yule)

-

Note: ALL sexually explicit fics will be marked.

Call of Duty

-

Ghost:

🌶️ A Dark & Stormy Night

🌶️ ’S’

🌶️ Dark Knight Ghost (Medieval AU)

💔❓Mystery! Reverse Trope (guess the trope prompt)

🍒 That Staring Drabble

🌶️ Late Night Double Decker Delight

💕 That Blind Date Story

🌶️ A Helping Hand

🌶️ That Drunk Simon Story

🌶️😈 That Simon's Not a Good Man Story

-

Love Thy Frenemy (Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

🌶️ Try a Little Tenderness (one-shot that inspired the series)

🎄Where the Love Light Gleams (Xmas One-Shot)

1. It’s a Start

2. The Myth of a Rainy Night

3. The Purgatory Between

4. Like Heartbreaking New Friends

Interlude: The Life of a Ghost

5. The Meat You Feed On

Interlude: Dinner & a Movie

6. A Terrible Thing to Bear

7. Can’t Let Go 😈

8. Lost and Found 😈

9.Grow Me Something Better

10. Let the Sleeper Awake 🍒

Interlude - On the Streets of Soho: Just You 🌶️ 

-

Soap:

🌶️ A Blanket of Stars

🌶️ Promises, Promises

💔 The Covenant (50-Word Fic Challenge)

🍒🤡 Reverse Trope: Fake Amnesia

💕 That Pregnancy Drabble

🌶️ The Panty Thief

-

Dirty Little Secret (Series)

🌶️Dirty Little Secret (part 1)

💔Dirty Little Secret (part 2)

💔Dirty Little Secret (part 3)

🍒Dirty Little Secret (part 4)

💕Dirty Little Secret (part 5)

🥵Dirty Little Secret (part 6)

🌶️Dirty Little Secret (part 7)

-

Gaz:

🌶️A Nice Guy

🍒Reverse Trope: Love Triangle

-

Better Not to Know (Series)

🌶️Better Not to Know + Pt. 1

     Better Not to Know + Pt. 2

💔Better Not to Know + Pt. 3

💔Better Not to Know + Pt. 4

Better Not to Know + Pt. 5

-

Captain John Price:

🌶️Going Down?

🌶️Good King John (Medieval AU)

🌶️ That Don't Touch My Man Drabble

-

Ghoap:

💕 That Plushie Story

🤡 🥵 Freaky Friday Imagine

-

TF 141:

💕 Too Many Beds

🌶️ Naughty HC's - 69

-

Writing Challenges/Prompts

🌶️ The Acolyte (#50 word fic challenge - CoD Character)

💔 The Covenant (#50 word fic challenge - John Soap MacTavish)

💕 Quiet (K)night (#cali’s nameless challenge)

💕 Reverse Trope Prompt: Too many beds (TF 141 x reader)

🍒 Reverse Trope Prompt: Fake amnesia (Soap x reader)

🍒 Reverse Trope Prompt: Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead (Gaz x reader)

🍒❓ Reverse Trope Prompt: Mystery prompt! Prompt reveal is in the end notes. (Ghost x reader)

-

CoD Medieval AU One Shots

🌶️ Dark Knight Ghost

🌶️ Good King John

-

Los Vaqueros:

Rudy Parra

🌶️ A Patient Man

The Mandalorian:

🌶️ Don’t Leave Me Hangin’

🖤The more thots I have, the more dumpster fires fics you’ll see.

[flight-of-the-sacred-eagle]

Invader Zim except it’s a rodeo au. Which means the Membranes are actually a rodeo family who compete in rodeos all over the country.

They’re world famous, with Professor, or I guess in this case something different (Rancher Membrane? Cowboy Membrane? Just Membrane?) being a multi time national rodeo champion bull rider. He was forced to retire after a bull gored and crushed his arms to the point of needing amputations. He now lives vicariously through his children, specifically Dib, while managing the ranch and doing sketchy science (because he’s still insanely good at it). Said sketchy science is possible due to him becoming friends with an even more sketchy scientist with even less regard for people. The horse he rides the most is a very sweet and caring quarter horse mare named Clementine, who is a bay with a white blaze.

Gaz is a barrel racer and a damn good one. She’s won first in a couple big rodeos, with her quarter horse named Shadowhog. Shadowhog is a black mare with a white blaze and socks and is just as standoffish and angry as she in. Gaz still enjoys video games, but not as much. She also is the best trick roper in the family, and has experience in break away roping. She’s really good at it, but prefer barrel racing since she thinks it takes more skill. Dib thinks she’s making fun of him, but she really isn’t. She’s dabbled with bronc riding but is too lightweight. She is using in charge of herding on the ranch. She also is still one of Membrane’s creations.

Dib is a tie down roper who desperately wants to get into team roping but like. He has no friends. He’s fairly good at tie down roping, though hasn’t won anything. Membrane wants him to be a bull rider. Dib would rather die. He has a curious, playful dappled gray quarter horse mare named Mothman, and is still in love with the paranormal and would rather explore it than compete. Membrane hates this. Dib kinda loves horses and spends a lot of time with not only Mothman, but the other horses on the ranch like Shadowhog, Phoenix, Megera, ET, and Professor. Dib is also still a clone because Membrane is still stupid smart and has access to less than ethical equipment.

Zim is still an alien. He still wants to take over the earth. He was still banished. The only difference is that he lands in the country when Dib is about 15. Membrane happened to have a flyer for a ranch hand up and Zim decides the human thing to do is take a job. His base is in the shape of a barn that’s right outside of Membrane Ranches. Membrane gives him the job and a cowboy hat and Dib is immediately like “that’s an alien Wtf” but Membrane ignores him. And then proceeds to insist on having Zim trained as a steer wrestler due to his strength and gives him a palomino quarter horse gelding named ET (Dib finds the irony hilarious), who is irritable and must be bribed with treats.

The ranch is named Membrane Ranches and has thirteen horses (four ranch horses- Clementine, Peggy (Appaloosa mare), Foodie (paint quarter horse gelding), and Generator (bay quarter horse gelding); two barrel horses- Shadowhog and Megara (chestnut quarter horse mare with white socks); one tie down roping horse- Chupacabra (paint quarter horse stallion); one steer wrestling horse- Covenant (buckskin quarter horse mare); four generic roping horses- ET, Mothman, Phoenix (nearly white quarter horse gelding), and Doppler (black quarter horse gelding); and one bronc- Wildfire (bright chestnut mustang with a white blaze and socks); as well as sixty head of cattle.

Dib gets tasked with teaching Zim the ropes of steer wrestling and ranch work. They try to kill each other between the very much forced lessons.

Zim is a shit ranch hand at first hates it because of germs. Dib uses this as an opportunity to lie and say all humans are fine with germs and Zim very reluctantly agrees. He does eventually start to get used to it, eventually becoming a fairly good ranch hand. He gets surprisingly protective of ET. ET gets surprisingly close to Zim, always nickering when he comes in.

Zim eventually gets told his mission is fake and Dib awkwardly comforts him. The next week he’s dragged to a rodeo (a massive one) and immediately starts getting very overwhelmed by the extremely loud noises and scents and the bumping. He’s not competing but Gaz and Dib are. Dib completely missed the tie down roping because he’s taken Zim away from the crowds and noise to decompress. (Not because he cares but because he’s not gonna let the alien do something stupid clearly).

Membrane is very annoyed.

A couple years later and more rodeos later Dib is nineteen and wins first at one of the largest rodeos in the country. Zim also competes and gets second. Dib (and Gaz who gets first in a lot of big rodeos) are invited to another big event. Zim comes with.

The night before the competition, Dib and Zim notice a runaway steer. Dib gets it around the head and Zim gets it by a hind leg. Dib realizes that holy shit they could be a roping team. At the same time a roping team is forced to drop out so the pair sign up.

They wind up getting forth. Gaz is thrilled that Dib is able to do what he’s wanted to do. Membrane is angry because he wanted to get Dib to bull riding after tie down roping inevitably wore him out.

Dib and Zim eventually become world champion team ropers. And they eventually make their own ranch. And maybe kiss.

[anonymoosen]

No one’s gonna see this, buttt-

Last year, I kept this IZ X TOH au between myself and my best friend, but I kinda wanna talk about it now since @thechaoticlittlejester wanted to revive it and add their ideas too! (They’re rlly smart and cool so follow them :3)

Anywayyy here’s what my idea last year was like

No, it doesn’t take part in the Boiling Isles, it takes place in the normal IZ universe

It’s kinda more like a sequel of invader Zim that takes place 3 years after the Florpus incident, but the characters have personality traits from the TOH characters

All the weird things from Boiling Isles happens on earth

Example: Grom is actually an alien who wanted to kill Zim (because of course it did) and went to Earth to seek revenge coincidentally during Prom in skool!

Humans are still stupid and didn’t really care much about the weird happenings and thought Grom was just some failed science experiment from chemistry class or something

ANYWAY MOVING ONTO MORE ZIMPORTANT DETAILS-

This is a really complicated thing to say buttt- some IZ characters have more than one TOH character role/story

Example: Gaz is mainly in Eda’s place, but also has the character traits and development of Willow’s (because she’s also the reliable one in the story and pretends she isn’t suffering)

And Zim is mainly in Amity’s role, but also has King’s kind of story (like- King thought he was the King of demons when he wasn’t, and Zim thought he was the best invader when he’s actually defective)

(BUT ZIM DOESNT HAVE KING’S *ROLE* BECAUSE THIS IS A ZADR STORY AND DIB IS LUZ IN THIS AU!! HE ONLY HAS KING’S *STORY*)

Like it’s not really your standard [FAVE SHOW] as [OTHER FAVE SHOW] AU! It’s just a fan made Invader Zim sequel with stories based on TOH’S stories! (And this AU is mainly about Gaz, Dib and Zim’s shenanigans)

And of course, it’s really gonna be out of character for Dib and Zim because they’re a lot nicer since they’re in Luz and Amity’s roles kdkedmdkdkdkd

(This is what me from last year wrote idjejdjekroeokr it’s so cringe lol)

Now time to explain the character roles:

Dib as Luz!

I know Dib as Amity sounds like it makes more sense, but I chose Dib as Luz because they’re both excluded by everyone in skool, they have “weird” interests, and Prof Membrane would probably want to send Dib to a “real science” camp like how Camila wanted to send Luz to the “normal” camp. (Also both Luz and Dib are dorky dorks lolll)

Zim as Amity!

It’s not justtt because of the ZADR as Lumity thing, it’s also because Zim wants to be the Tallests’ “star student” or in this case, star invader. And like how Amity had that amulet that controlled her, Zim’s PAK had a program that made him loyal to the Tallests (which he would break later on). Also, Zim killed Miyuki with a flesh eating BLOB, and that reminds me of abomination goo loll

So in this AU, the Irkens use those kinds of blobs to create weapons (like how the Blight Industries use abomination goo to make abomatons)

Lastly, in this AU, Zim reads to kids. It sounds out of character but I would like to think that over the years, he’s actually great with kids because he’s been dealing with Gir lolll- (also Zim’s a dad to his minions in my heart, shushhhh)

Gaz as Eda! Even tho she takes Eda’s role, she’s still Dib’s younger sister. Anyway, she takes Eda’s role because she’s sassy and acts like she doesn’t care but does. Also, in this AU, Gaz secretly has a curse, and has an uncontrollable pig demon form.

The reason why she kept it a secret is because she knew how crazy Dib is over supernatural / paranormal creatures and is scared that he would reveal it to everyone. (But Dib accidentally kindaaa gave her away to the Swollen Eyeball and had to rescue her— like how Eda was taken away by the Emperor’s Coven and Luz had to save her)

Tak as Hunter!

Tak somehow manages to get out of her janitor job and became the Lavender Guard of the Tallests. She still hates Zim and had that “Amity vs Hunter” fight with her. She’s also still a cringefail depressed emo like Hunter-

Gir as Hooty!

Both Hooty and Gir Are craAAaAaaAzyyyy beings who might secretly be Gods.

Okay seriously though- Gir once possessed Zim’s entire base and made it move around, which is literally like the plot Hooty’s Moving Hassle where Hooty gets possessed and moves around too.

Plus I’d like to think that Gir would wanna prove himself to Zim and make some Tunnel of Love thing like how Hooty did to make ZADR canon! (Except this Tunnel of Love is more disturbing and has literal human hearts. Whose hearts were those? Nobody knows…)

————

Anywayyy this was an intro of my cringe AU from last year! Bye nonexistent readers since again, no one’s gonna read thisssss- (except for thechaoticjester since I tagged them idkekdekrkeiir)

[kitty-mactabbysh]

I've got a Halo AU for Ghoap too and even though I have everything ready I wanna write fanfic of it and this is where my brain goes

But some things:

• Ghost is a Spartan, of course. Wish I remembered the number but I think it was 114.

• And the 141 is part of an ODST platoon who solves human problems. They're not on the war against the Covenant or in the search for the Halos, they deal with local druglords, terrorists, the gritty stuff.

• But they were falling behind a little, so the UNSC slapped this Spartan II booty on them and said "you better goddamn fix this".

• ODST guys were hostile to Ghost on his first day because he is a Spartan (and there is some one-sided rivalry going on here), but Soap stepped up to defend him like the pookie that he is (Ghost really didn't care about the harassment though but if someone tried to clap him he'd give them refunds).

• So now we have this squad of ODSTs who works closely with a Spartan because Soap said "Captain please" and Price already knew Ghost, worked together with him in the past, and Gaz thought it'd be cool to have one on the team.

• That's basically it. I'm not sure if I should talk about Graves.

• But anyway he was a Marine Commander whose squad got yeeted by Shepherd as some sort of damage control and they couldn't let the bitch die because he had too many important things he never shared (he's shady here, too) with even his higher-ups so they decided to resurrect him as an AI in order to harvest said intel and ended up keeping him around. He's the Captain and Smart AI of the Rook Shrouded in Shadow, a Charon-class light frigate which serves as a base for this ODST platoon and some.

• He hates Shepherd and whenever they have to work together comms is a bicker-fest and Ghost not only wanted to, but actually did turn comms off once, went AWOL, found and fought an entire Covenant squad who was doing some illegal trade with a human crime syndicate, and they had no idea where to find him for a hot hour.

• Soap panicked a little but Gaz knew he'd be fine. How could a 7ft tall super soldier not be? Your crush is showing, MacTavish...

Basically the whole thing hope you're having a good day and remember: Halo Infinite is not that bad.

Cheers ♡

[docdudo]

Hi, I really loved your Fledgling story!

Quick question: the fledgling seems kind of hyper-independent and very much in denial/shock about what happened to them. Is that gonna change quickly or is there quite a bit of problems in the future?

And can I just say, I really appreciate how quickly you alway update your masterlist! It's super helpful and makes it so easy to read all your fics in one go.

Wish you lots of inspiration!

First of all, thank you for enjoying my stories!! And yeah, when I'm writing, I keep the Masterlist open on the side, so I just update it when I'm finished kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Now, about the fledgling reader—yeah, she's in shock. She's overwhelmed by all her responsibilities and has no support system in her life. Being attacked to death and then coming back as an entirely different species isn’t something she can properly process right now; she’s simply trying to autopilot through everything.

What Horangi said earlier was true—she has a lot of venom in her system, and she wasn’t even supposed to be awake yet. The most basic part of her transformation isn’t even complete, and her body still has a looooong way to go before finishing the rest of the changes.

If those two hadn’t found her, she would have died within a week.

[raisindave]

[Chapter 21] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Seeing that the person in the mirror's movements matched your own was shocking. Makeup, carefully applied using methods beyond your comprehension, made your eyes look like a cartoon. If it weren't for the coven of yipping friends around you, you might have insisted the false eyelashes were too much. Long hair, soft and fragrant, spilled over your shoulders as the first sip of liquor started to breathe warmth into your system. One embarrassing story about a disastrous date led to an epic about having a scandalous one-night stand with a psychology professor, and the gaggle of girls was a whirlwind of preparation. Bubbling laughter erupted around you, eagerly fastening straps and clasping buckles on tight heels. 

After all, birthdays were precious to you. Each year, another year of life lived became more important to celebrate. One more year that you got to live. So many good people are gone before their time, and a bubbling sense of shame urged you to live each birthday to the fullest. Another private number's missed call. If it were work-related, it would come from the flip phone. There's no way in hell Laswell or anyone important would be dumb enough to contact your personal cell. This scam caller is persistent. 

If anything, one of the leading factors that inspired your change in heart and recent optimism about your body recalls your latest encounter. Being asked to parade yourself in front of evil men, smirking and snuggling with men that repulse you, made you fight for control of your own sexuality. Marín doesn't own you. Neither does Julien, and neither does Laswell. Tonight is all about reminding your conscience of that and reclaiming yourself. The sentiment was made easy by a batch of eager friends who are hungry to get you as drunk as possible on your birthday. Judging by the pace of drinks you were downing before leaving the house, the current mission was on schedule. Heels clacked down your porch stairs, funnelling into the back of some poor taxi driver's car, having to cooperate with six drunk women's hooting and hollering. 

It didn't take long until you surfed between bars, gauging each drink's price and finding the music playing at each location progressively better. Streetlights twinkled as the sidewalk rose to greet you with each staggering step. The night was electric, drinking in the humid air inside each bustling bar, endorphins dancing through your mind like your friends around you. It's like the DJs were reading your mind, finding the perfect song to make you sway your hips low and slow, lapping up the movements around you. 

You thought you were hallucinating. Someone must have slipped something into your drink, or maybe someone pricked you with a needle of some sort- because there's no way you just saw what you think you saw. No, it's real. That's Kyle- Kyle fucking Garrick. 

"Cricket!" Gaz shouted, sidling through the crowd to reach you, raising his palm to catch your attention above the jumping partygoers. 

"Lua answer yer' fucking phone!" Soap added, bounding past him, clearly already half in the bag. 

"How the fuck did you find my number, find me?" Your mind was still reeling with the recognition, the walls separating work and your social life now a distant memory. 

"Let's just say the SAS has their methods." Soap boomed, pulling you into a sidefaced hug. 

"You used SAS tracking technology to track my location?" you screamed, eyes wild with disbelief, pushing him off you as you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. 

There was Ghost, too, who was eyeing you blankly. You refused to let him suck the life from you. Not today. Soap responded with a shrug and feigned innocence, leaving you to question the validity of his whole story. Either way, you weren't done with questions just yet. 

"Where's Price?"

"It wasn't the geezer's type a' crowd," Gaz added, "plus, it already took our combined effort to convince this fucker to come with'" he gestured to Ghost, who was side-eyeing some particularly rowdy patrons beside him. 

Seeing these guys not in full-body armour and tactical gear was so bizarre. They all looked so ordinary. Jeans and rolled-up dress shirts, Gaz wore a flannel. Ever the oddball, Ghost still didn't drop his mask; instead, opting for a privacy mask with the bottom half of a skull face printed on it and a black hoodie with the hood up that gave roughly the same amount of coverage as his regular balaclava. What did catch your attention was pale, brown hair that fell in strands in front of his face, where previously you had questioned if he even had hair under that mug. It made your heart skip. Reminding you of the last time you dared to see more of what he looked like under his mask, only to get snapped at like a shepherd nips at his lambs. Be it from alcohol-fueled confidence or the fact that this wasn't in the formal military setting, you decided that you no longer had any reason to fear him, and you insisted on making sure he knew that. 

"Well, you guys need to catch up with us if you want to roll with us," you slurred.

"Oh, don't worry," Gaz put his arm around you, nearly putting you in a chokehold, "we stopped at a couple a' nearby pubs to see if you were in them."

Satisfied with their answer, though still no less confused, a song change forced you and all your friends to the middle of the dance floor with a choir of squeals. Once again, returning to the lively music, though now with an odd and slightly unsettled exhilaration that surged into your veins. Deafening bass music that pounded through your chest and passing laughter exchanged with giddy friends did enough to dissuade your withholding. They're here because they wanted to be here. Be here for you. An excuse to let loose after back-to-back missions promised a life-or-death situation in each. 

The crowd parted for a split second to let you catch Soap and Ghost leaning at the bar as they kick their heads back to shoot down a shot of amber liquid, Ghost quickly slipping his mask back down to reassume its protection. Without the searing taste affecting them, they moved forward, raising their fingers immediately to the bartender to repeat the round. At least they weren't expecting you to play babysitter, and they seemed perfectly content to handle themselves independently, despite this country being a foreign land to the native Brits. 

Song after song had you bouncing on your toes, belting each lyric to the nostalgic music with friends' lacing fingertips, ensuring you keep pace with their dancing. Hypnotic, neon lights flashing beams across your vision, searing past washes of clouds spurting from fog machines, alcohol making every atom in your body alight with energy. Air waved over the exposed skin of your chest, and you felt your hands glide over your own body, downing every molecule of energy in the room. The silky blue two-piece that had been picked out for you embraced every curve of your body, providing delicate pressure to squeeze every inch of your body into just the right places. 

Enraptured by the music and focused on dancing to the pounding beat, the girls didn't notice you slip away. You caught a glimpse of Soap flirting with your friend, leaning back against the bar and whispering a seemingly hilarious story into her ear. His arm around her was placed in a way you doubt her deadbeat boyfriend would approve of, but she seemed more than eager to return the attention. The mental image was a vision you washed away with the fruitiest, sweetest cocktail the bartender could manage. The world became smoother, gliding with your eye movements, and thrumming music became almost algorithmic in your mind, consistent and delicious. 

Sweeping eyes across the bar, your vision narrowed in on Ghost, calmly watching the bounding dancing, a black shadow cast on the corner of the bar. He stood resting his shoulder on the back wall, as he'd seemed to stow himself into the corner against the bar, giving him an excellent sniping position. He didn't seem uncomfortable though, nor displeased, only calmly observing, flickering his eyes over passing partygoers. You had always craved the unattainable, the impossible. It made your blood burn. A simmering ember lit into a raging inferno in your chest as you had just poured metaphorical gasoline, in the form of alcohol, onto your bonfire. The music around you was nothing compared to the thrumming pulse in your ear, fingernails raking over clammy palms. The climax of a thunderous song was the final kick to jump-start you into movement. 

You had already closed the distance, slipping your fingertips over his veined knuckles, taking the top of his hand in your palm. His fingers were still chilled, wet from the glass of iced whiskey he held seconds ago. Lifting his hand from the surface of the bar, you laid it to rest on top of your eyes, providing temporary coverage of your vision. Raising your now free hand, your digits slithered across his Adam's apple, using your thumb to pry his mask to rest just over his nose. Your mouth collided with his, pressing glossy, sultry lips to taste him in a clashing surge of heat. You didn't even have time to consider if this was a good idea before his hand on your back was pressing your body into his. Feverish and urgent, tasting each other's mouths as his searching hands lapped at all the energy across your skin, seemingly content with your blindfold. He tasted like Kentucky whiskey, warm and spicy, snaking hot fingers to explore the side of his neck. Lively partygoers provided privacy in numbers, just another couple in the crowd caught up in the charged atmosphere. He urged you closer with every gasping breath, clashing hot tongues together in frantic passion. it felt so right, so necessary. Like the feeling of your desperate exploration of each other's mouths, and hungry panting was an oasis in a barren desert.

You didn't even remember parting the kiss before you were whipped away. Another chain of squealing friends dragged you away from your encounter, denying your mind a moment's rest to gather itself. Your forearm collided with the swinging door of the women's bathroom, meeting the stark, sterile, and particularly shocking lighting of a public bathroom as your eyes reeled to adjust. Friends, strangers, and a pair of two women making out in the corner were what you were met with when you stumbled into their presence. Your eyes were wide, wild and dazzled. They were saying something to one another, but the crashing heartbeat in your ears hampered your ability to hear them. 

"I just made out with my Lieutenant," you blurted, the words leaping from your throat.

"Is that a good thing?" One of the unfamiliar women spoke up.

"What's your rank again? Weren't you like a Sergeant or something?" Your friend spoke up, pushing up her eyelashes as she leaned into the mirror, "I can't remember if that's higher or lower."

"Oooh, like Saving Sergeant Ryan?" Added an eager, though thoroughly intoxicated girl in a stunning red dress, eyes wide with excitement.

"Sarah, it's Saving Private Ryan," another stranger corrected.

"Oh." 

"I'm so fucked," you breathed, a bubbling cackle betraying your seriousness, eyes wide and focusing to stare into nothingness. 

"Well, if you play your cards right..." your friend added, eliciting a chorus of hoots and hollers from the surrounding ladies before the topic shifted to something new. 

That wasn't quite the comfort you were seeking. You didn't want to fuck him. That was just a spur-of-the-moment, self-soothing and slightly horny decision. He's probably thinking the same thing, if he's even thinking about it at all. For all you know, he could be doing the same thing with the next giggling pair of tits that walked into his field of view. Too many possibilities and a lack of certainty left your mind swimming, blinking past the trepidation and smoothing down jumbled hair in the shared mirror. 

For the rest of your friends, sucking face with some random stranger at the bar was less than uncommon, eagerly listening to the details, though not particularly bewildered. You, however, had a million and one reasons to be bewildered. You crossed an uncrossable barrier, which could permanently mar your record. Sure, you were seeking agency, but you weren't expecting your first action to be to dance tongues with someone who you thought wanted you dead. 

Swallowing your restraint, the dance floor was now yours to command. Crackling with newfound confidence and a faint sense of lingering dread, nobody could tell you each song wasn't matched your heartbeat. Swaying and grinding with the motions against people you'd never see again, your mind dared to question if any of your other teammates had seen your brush with Ghost. That's a thought that's best pocketed for later. Right now, the only thing in the world that mattered was the intoxicating movements of your dimly lit ballroom. 

A pull at the back of your skirt sends you staggering backwards, nearly falling if you weren't stopped by what felt like a brick wall. That smell, Kentucky whiskey and musk. A gasp slipped from your lips, tilting your head back and seeing Ghost's hungry eyes staring down at you, craning above your vision. His body was hot, radiating languid heat, creating a sweltering inferno that matched yours. 

"Close your eyes, darling," he purred into your ear. 

You didn't need to be told twice, shutting your heavy eyelids and rolling your shoulders back to invite whatever mystery was incoming. His palm rested on your belly, securing you firmly to rest against him as he prepared something beside him. His chest was flush against your back, treacherously warm and solid. A lack of ocular stimuli left you whirling to identify surrounding sounds instead but returning empty-handed with the familiar pounding of lively club music. 

"Good. Now, open your mouth." His voice growled through you, sparking goosebumps and electricity to surge down your back.

Parting your lips, you surrendered yourself to whatever was about to happen, feeling cool air flood across your damp tongue. Your mind flickered to the thought of this being some sort of military hazing joke, but the way his hand reached around your neck and gently tilted your chin to face the ceiling left you reeling. In a second, cold liquid splattered into your mouth, catching droplets that dribbled down your chin. Whirring neurons scrambled to connect sensations to reason. Ghost had just spit a tequila shot into your waiting mouth. Worst of all, you obediently and eagerly gulped up the alcohol he spat into you, leaving your face flush with searing heat. He permitted you to close your mouth with gentle guidance on your jaw, allowing you to graciously swallow the bitter liquid as another shiver ran down your spine. His fingers slid over your molten skin, a cold hand splayed across your heaving belly, finding yourself feverishly pressing your whirling hips into him, slow and dangerous. This cannot be happening. You are so fucked. 

"You liked that, hm?," he breathed into your ear, voice gravelly and low.

"I've seen better." 

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Master List

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; you uncover a hidden truth that forces you to take responsibility despite lingering resentment. as old wounds remain fresh, some refuse to give up on the hope of redemption.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The pack was quiet on the drive home, the usual hum of conversation replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. The truck creaked softly as they pulled into the driveway, the weight of the day still clinging to them like a second skin.

Inside the house, they moved wordlessly, each finding their own corner to settle into. Ghost disappeared into the kitchen, his movements as silent as ever. Price leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed as he stared at nothing in particular. Gaz sat in the armchair, his brow furrowed as though lost in thought.

Johnny paced.

The energy radiating off him was palpable, his restlessness a stark contrast to the subdued demeanor of the others. He’d been like this for weeks—ever since the fallout with you, ever since he had gone after you against your wishes and that bloody day at Konni's.

Finally, he stopped, letting out a sharp breath like a dam breaking. “Right,” he said, his accent thick with exasperation. “I’ve got somethin’, and ye need tae hear me out.”

Gaz looked up first, arching a brow. “This’ll be good,” he muttered dryly.

Johnny shot him a glare, but the effect was diminished by the nervous energy rolling off him. He grabbed his laptop from the nearby shelf, plopping it onto the coffee table before flipping it open. The glow of the screen lit up his face as he sat cross-legged on the floor, motioning for the others to gather round.

The laptop itself was well-used, the edges slightly worn from years of handling. A few sparse stickers adorned the surface—some band logos, a faded insignia, and one that made Ghost’s gaze linger for just a second too long.

A sticker from your apothecary.

The design was simple—your shop’s name in elegant script, accompanied by a small, hand-drawn sigil you had used in its early days. It had been from when you were first promoting the place, when you had excitedly handed them out, tucking them into bags of herbs and tonics for customers, pressing them into the palms of the people you trusted.

“I’ve been… thinkin’,” he admitted, his voice softer now, the words almost awkward in their delivery.

Ghost leaned in from the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest as his gaze moved away from the sticker to his pack mate. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said flatly, tone dry as a desert.

Johnny ignored him, pulling up several tabs and a folder he’d clearly been organizing for a while. “Look,” he said, turning the laptop so they could all see. “I’ve been doin’ a bit o’ research. On her coven. On the town. On… everythin’.”

Gaz frowned, leaning forward. “Why?”

“Because!” He snapped, exasperated but not angry. “I needed tae understand! If we’re ever gonna fix this—if we’ve any chance of fixin’ it—we need tae ken what we’re dealin’ with!”

He clicked through several images and articles, pulling up maps, historical records, and more. “The coven’s at the heart of everythin’,” he explained, his voice quickening with conviction. “The town that surrounds it? It’s no’ just witches. It’s humans, fae, and other folk, all livin’ together in harmony. The only condition is loyalty tae the coven.”

“Loyalty,” Gaz echoed cautiously, his brows furrowing.

Soap nodded, scrolling to a section about the coven’s rules. “Aye. Loyalty. And if they have daughters? The daughters serve the coven. That’s it. Otherwise, everyone’s welcome. They’ve built somethin’ there, somethin’ solid.”

Gaz shifted in his seat, his frown deepening. “Pledging loyalty to a coven’s no small thing, mate. There’s a reason my mum never did. It’s… a big commitment.”

Johnny glanced at him, then at the others, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Price, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. “She’s set to become the leader of the coven,” he said, his voice steady and deliberate. “And knowing her, I’d bet she wouldn’t see it as a burden. For us, loyalty to her would feel like a privilege.”

Johnny blinked, clearly taken aback by the certainty in his tone.

Price leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on his knees. “She already has it,” he continued, his blue eyes sharp. “Our hearts, our souls—everythin’. Despite what happened, I’d say we’re more certain about it now than ever before.”

A heavy silence followed his words, the truth settling over the group like a shroud.

Ghost, still standing in the doorway, finally spoke. His voice was low and even, but there was an edge of hesitation in his tone. “.....I’ll think about it.”

The others turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the room beyond, unreadable as always.

Johnny glanced back at his laptop, his fingers drumming nervously on the edge of the table. He’d expected more pushback, but the quiet agreement—or at least consideration—from the others left him feeling relieved.

For now, the conversation hung in the air, unfinished, as each of them retreated into their own thoughts.

. . .

The frustration simmered beneath your skin, as you paced the length of your studio. Sybil’s steady gaze followed your movements, her head resting on her paws where she lay curled by the hearth. She didn’t move, but the occasional flick of her tail was enough to show she was keeping close watch, sensing your turmoil as her own.

Laswell’s interference had gone far beyond what she’d claimed. 

She’d framed Leah’s arrival as her getting closure—an opportunity to heal. But this? This was manipulation. She hadn’t sent Leah to you for closure. No, she’d sent her to you for salvation.

It had been subtle at first—the way Leah had faltered as König escorted her out of the manor. Her steps had grown sluggish, her face pale, and by the time she reached the threshold, she had nearly collapsed. König had caught her effortlessly, his broad frame dwarfing her frail figure.

Your Mom had stepped in immediately. She wasn’t alone—Horangi stood close by, his expression unreadable behind the tint of his glasses, hands folded neatly behind his back as he observed. Barghest loomed nearby, her keen eyes scanning Leah with quiet intensity.

You had stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, frustration barely contained as you watched with Sybil by your side.

It was when your Mom’s expression shifted—her brow furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line—that your heart sank.

“She’s not sick,” your Mom said softly, though her tone carried the weight of something far more serious. “Not in the way you think.”

Horangi adjusted his glasses slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you. “It’s… different,” he murmured, his usual cool detachment laced with something more cautious.

“What is it, then?” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly to Leah, who lay unconscious on the bed, before returning to you. Sybil had risen slightly, ears pricking forward, sensing the weight of the moment.

Horangi exhaled heavily, his broad shoulders rolling slightly. “It’s changed her,” he muttered, his deep voice carrying a weight of finality. “Too much time with the parasite inside her—it left a mark.”

“The parasite was in her for too long,” your Mom added. “It left an imprint. She’s… not human anymore.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you stared at her, your mind racing to make sense of it. “What?”

“She’s not a magical creature either,” she continued, her voice tinged with something like regret. “She’s stuck in between. Whatever the parasite did to her, it’s irreversible.”

Barghest let out a low rumble, her gaze fixed on Leah’s prone form.

“Her body isn’t rejecting magic like a human’s should,” Horangi noted, his tone more thoughtful than concerned. “But it’s not adapting to it, either. It’s in stasis.”

“Which means she needs something to anchor her,” your Mom concluded. “Something strong enough to keep her from slipping further.”

Her fingers curled against the armrest of her wheelchair, her gaze steady on you. “If we want her to survive, she’ll need to stay close to a source of magic—something strong enough to anchor her while her body finishes assimilating.”

You hadn’t needed her to elaborate. A witch’s coven, your coven, was the only viable answer.

And that was when the full weight of Laswell’s intentions had hit you. She had known. She had known that Leah needed something more, something she couldn’t provide. And so she had sent her to you, knowing you wouldn’t let her die.

The memory of it made your teeth grind as you stopped pacing, your fingers digging into the edge of the desk. Sybil rose from her spot and padded over to you, pressing her warm, wet nose against your hand. The gesture brought you back to the present, grounding you even as the anger continued to churn beneath the surface.

Laswell had played her cards well, and now Leah was your responsibility—whether you liked it or not.

For now, you had set Leah up in town, close enough to the coven’s magic to keep her stable but far enough from the manor to give yourself some distance. The thought of her being any closer was still too much.

You exhaled sharply, leaning heavily against the desk as your frustration ebbed into something quieter, heavier. Acceptance.

Leah would stay—for now. But the resentment burning in your chest wouldn’t be so easily soothed.

Her visits were a different matter altogether.

No matter how often you told her not to come, how many times you snapped, glared, or outright dismissed her, she always returned. You made no effort to mask your irritation—if anything, you let it out freely, allowing your frustration to cut through your words like a blade.

And she took it. Every annoyed sigh, every sharp retort, every time you turned your back on her, she took it without complaint.

Still, she kept coming back.

At first, it felt like defiance, another way for her to wedge herself into a space where she wasn’t welcome. But as the days stretched into weeks, you realized it wasn’t that. She wasn’t fighting against you—she was enduring you.

As if she believed this was part of her punishment.

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it didn’t stop you from lashing out. When she brought books, you barely glanced at them before shoving them aside. When she tried to help, you found ways to make her feel in the way. When she lingered too long, you pointedly ignored her until she left.

But she never stopped.

“You need these,” she’d say, matter-of-factly, setting a book on magical contracts or ancient coven traditions on your desk with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged.

Sybil would watch from her usual spot, her dark eyes shifting between the two of you, as though waiting to see who would break first.

One evening, after another round of cold, clipped responses from you, Leah finally exhaled, pressing her palms against the desk as she looked at you properly.

“I deserve this,” she murmured, so softly that, for a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard her right.

Your temper flared again, ready to snap at her, but then you saw the way she held herself—shoulders stiff, chin tilted ever so slightly downward, as if she were bracing for another verbal blow.

The fight drained from you instantly.

You hated that she thought that. That she had convinced herself this was justified.

“No,” you said, quieter than you meant to. “You don’t.”

She blinked, but didn’t argue. She just nodded, accepting the statement as fact, but something in her shoulders eased ever so slightly.

You sighed and gestured at the treaty she had been reviewing, your frustration ebbing into something else—something closer to exhaustion. “What were you saying about the wording?”

She hesitated at the sudden shift but gathered herself quickly, sliding the document back toward her. Sybil stretched lazily near your feet, her tail flicking idly, as Leah pointed to a section of the draft.

“This part. The phrasing is vague—it could be interpreted in a way that gives your mother leverage later.”

You studied it, eyes narrowing. She was right.

“I didn’t expect you to be good at this,” you admitted, catching her off guard.

She laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving. “I was studying to be a lawyer, remember? Before all of this happened.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze flicking to Sybil, who tilted her head slightly as if in approval. “I guess I forgot.”

Her expression softened, and though the distance between you both remained, it felt less insurmountable than before.

Little by little, the jagged edges of your shared history began to smooth. Slowly but surely.

. . .

The dimly lit bathroom was filled with the quiet hum of the electric razor in Ghost’s hands. He held it awkwardly, his fingers stiff around the handle as if it were a weapon he hadn’t been trained to use. Johnny sat on a stool in front of him, a towel draped around his shoulders, his unruly hair ready for the transformation back into his signature mohawk.

“Careful, big man,” Johnny teased, his thick accent carrying a playful edge. “I’ve got enough scars. Don’t go addin’ tae the collection, aye?”

Ghost let out a quiet grunt, tilting Johnny’s head slightly to one side as he began shaving the sides of his head. “Keep still, or you’ll get what you’re askin’ for.”

The clumsiness in Ghost’s hands was deliberate—Johnny had insisted on his help for this reason alone. It wasn’t about precision; it was about the time spent, the bond shared in this one quiet moment.

For a while, they worked in silence, the razor buzzing and the occasional clump of hair falling to the floor. But Johnny wasn’t one to let silence linger too long.

“So,” he began casually, his tone light but probing. “Gonna tell me what’s got ye tied up in knots?”

Ghost didn’t answer immediately, his focus seemingly fixed on the next section of Soap’s hair.

“C’mon, Simon,” Johnny pressed, his voice softening. “We all know somethin’s eatin’ at ye. Let it out, mate.”

Ghost exhaled slowly, his hand stilling for a moment before resuming its work. “It’s nothin’,” he muttered.

Johnny snorted. “Aye, and I’m a bloody unicorn. Try again.”

There was another long pause, the weight of it growing heavier with each passing second. Finally, Ghost set the razor down on the counter and leaned against the sink, his gloved hands gripping the edge tightly.

“I’m afraid,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Johnny turned in his seat, his gaze searching Ghost’s face, even though the mask hid most of his expression. “Afraid of what?”

Ghost stared at the wall in front of him, his shoulders tense. “Of what I did. Of what I could’ve done. That night…” He trailed off, his hands tightening around the sink. “I don’t remember much, but I know I hurt her. Sybil too.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head. “She’s our bird, Johnny. Our jewel. My everythin’. And the thought that I… That I could’ve—”

Ghost broke off again, his jaw tightening. “She’s not the same anymore. She’s cold now. Frigid. And I can’t help but think it’s my fault.”

Johnny’s usual light-hearted demeanor softened as he listened. He reached up, clapping a hand on Ghost’s arm. “Simon,” he said gently, “ye messed up. Aye, ye made a mistake—a big one. But we all did, mate. It wasn’t just ye.”

Ghost glanced at him, his eyes shadowed and unsure.

“And maybe this was the wake-up call we needed,” Johnny continued, his tone more serious than usual. “We were treatin’ her like she was somethin’ fragile. A wee thing tae keep safe and warm and away from the world.”

He shook his head, a rare note of wisdom shining through. “But she’s not that, Simon. She’s her own person. Her own beauty. And it’s about bloody time we showed her we see that. That we respect it.”

Ghost stared at him, the weight of his words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “And what if she doesn’t forgive us?” he asked quietly.

Johnny grinned faintly, his usual cheekiness returning for a moment. “Then we keep tryin’, big man. ‘Cause if there’s one thing she’s taught us, it’s that we’ve got tae earn it.”

The razor buzzed back to life as Ghost picked it up again, his hands steadier this time. Johnny straightened, letting him finish the job, a small smile tugging at his lips as the tension in the room began to ease.

For the first time in a long while, Ghost felt something close to hope.

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[trashland-llamas]

-> Fic Masterlist <-

[ Post One // Fandoms A-C ]

Across the Spiderverse

Such Beautiful Creatures; Hobie takes Tempest on a trip to an aquarium in attempts to get zhem out of zheir grief filled head

Marked; Miguel tattooing fang marks into Reader’s skin as a form of ownership [GN]

Look-alike; Miguel asks Tempest to tell him stories about zheir mentor Web-slinger as zhey joined the Spider Society a few weeks after zheir canon event

Workaholic; Miguel and Viktor take care of Reader after discovering they've overworked themselves into exhaustion [GN]

Shared Mannerisms; Mannerisms that Tempest & Webslinger share

Canon Event; Tempest experiences zheir canon event. Or where Webslinger dies in front of zheir eyes.

Intro + Relationships; Intro for my Spidersona Tempest

Alice 19th

At the Thrift Shop Down the Road; Kyou takes the reader thrift shopping [GN]

Baldur's Gate

Shrek; Astarion gets compared to Shrek [GN]

Exsanguination; Astarion rescues reader from being the tavern's residential blood bag [Fem]

I'll Stay; Reader decides to stay with Astarion instead of returning to the tavern. Astarion then takes her to meet the rest of the Baldur's Gate crew after going to pick up her last paycheck. Sequel to Exsanguination [Fem]

Pulse Points; Reader confuses Astarion with how he gives physical affection. In that they like to nuzzle his neck, but Astarion doesn't have a pulse? [GN]

BNHA

Opposites Attract; Eraserjokemic headcanons based around the TikTok trend where you show pictures of you and a best friend/partner & it’s usually opposites. Like sunshine, sunshine protector for example.

Neko; Hizashi offers the neighborhood stray shelter during the storm. Or where the neighborhood stray ends up being a Neko named Aizawa

Insulin; Aizawa helps Eri check her blood sugar after lunch

La Da Dee; Eijirou Kirishima x Reader + Music HCs [GN]

I Think We're Alone Now; Katsuki, Eijirou & Izuku x reader (separately) fall asleep on you [GN]

Like Riding a Bike; Reader teaches Hawks how to ride a bike after learning the commission never taught him [GN]

Memento Mori; Shigaraki’s quirk + suicidal reader. Spoiler; he refuses to use it on them. 'Was the door still open? Or had time finally decided to close it in on them?'

Neko Traits; Neko traits Aizawa displays in his human form

Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher

Shyan Brotp headcanons

Call of Duty

Bookworm; Team 141 listening to civilian! Reader go through their library haul [GN]

The Missile is Eepy; Team 141 x gn reader’s sleeping positions [GN]

Blood Lust; Vamp! reader begs Price for blood [GN]

Leave Me to Dream; Gaz and Soap find Reader in a catatonic state and are instructed to get Price [Fem]

Everything’s a Mess; Price gets y/n to talk about what caused faer catatonic episode. Sequel to Leave Me to Dream. [Fem]

Snap, Crackle, Pop; Price discovers Reader has crepitus, conversation ensues [GN]

Boo Boo; Soap interacting w/ kids

Howdy; How y/n meets Soap, Ghost, & Gaz (separately) as inspired by selected country songs

Blood of the Covenant; Soap comforts Ghost over the anniversary of his father’s death

Appa; Soap takes care of regressed reader while waiting for Ghost to come home from leave [GN]

Johnny Boy; Reader refuses to call Johnny “John” [GN]

Everybody Talks; 'People are going to start spreading rumors if you keep greeting me like this.' 'Too late for that dearie! They already whisper rumors about us.' [Fem]

Hot Summer Day; Keegan & y/n troll Ghost w/ sweet tea [GN]

How Was Your Day?; Sexy times get interrupted when Reader checks in with König, ends up w/ König rambling about his day [Gn]

You Must Be in Pain; Reader’s too tired to get off; the alpha in König tells him to do something about it [Fem]

Age Regressor! König

Did You Have Fun?; Gaz and Reader go hiking, in a fluffy date type of way [GN]

Sleep Drunk; Where y/n has never been good at waking up in the morning…or Gaz discovers this and tries to help [GN]

ASMR; Gaz returns from a mission, finding y/n had fallen asleep to asmr…Or y/n wakes up to a welcomed surprise of Gaz in their bed [GN]

Floor Time?; Gaz joins reader for floor time, and distracts them from their scoliosis pain [GN]

Tangled Bedsheets; Simon discovers Reader has some childhood trauma around making the bed, resulting in hyper-independence. Ends up comforting her over it. [Fem]

Balaclava; Reader's plans to knit Simon a balaclava for his birthday might or might not involve a little bit of thievery [GN]

Let Me Help; Simon helps Reader get off [Fem]

Ghost Headcanons

Accidents Happen; Reader gets into a fender bender and calls his dad Simon afterwards [Male]

Camp Here and There

Yes Chef; Headcanons about Matthew Napoleon

Chuckle Sandwich

Acts of affection I associate w/ Chuckle Sandwich

'do you know Schlinx is fucking dead?'

Slime boy make Sensory Issues go brrr [GN]

Wed-nes-day; Ted Nivison x Reader w/ a speech impediment

Hold on to this Lullaby; Ted makes reader's bed after finding out they've been hiding their stuffed animals [GN]

Criminal Minds

Enter Sandman; Headcanons about Spencer checking out his local music scene

[powerfultenderness]

ok, so the reason I've been slow with New, is because things got out of hand in my head 🤦‍♀️

I WAS gonna have witch!Reader and Soap have had hooked up once (it was gonna be like a little drama between Gaz and Reader). but not like for feelings or w/e. She just read Soap's fortune before he left one time and saw that he was gonna die. So she put a protection spell on him. buuuut, the quickest protection spell she has (since he needed to get to the air port), was from sex magic! so they fucked so she could save his life 😆

all according to the original plan.

but then big ol' stupid Soap had to go and mess up the plan! He gets shot, right? and the spell does it's magic and saves him, but he still falls into a coma! 😱 So she has to go to the hospital to wake him up! (this time it's a kiss! lol).

Now you see, all that I COULD have kept in. BUT like I said, Soap ruined it. By catching feelings he wasn't supposed to.

I also could have kept that in. Just make it more angsty, you know. but, there's some lore to the Reader character that Soap didn't want to let go of. This witch has bound herself to her land. so as long as she doesn't leave it, she doesn't age (originally i planned this to bring comfort to suddenly immortal Gaz). And if she leaves her land, she just ages normally (if she leaves for a day, she'll age a day. then when she gets back she's however old she was before + a day.)

So the reason she did this is because he dad was also an SAS soldier. But he was MIA, assumed KIA. but her mom, in her grief used magic to send her to where ever her husband was. she meant to save him and bring him back home. BUT she never came back. this happened when Reader was like 10. so she's left to be raised by the coven. And she still believes/hopes that her parents are going to come back one day, so w/o running her plan by the coven first, she (still very young) uses forbidden magic to bind herself to her mom's magic before it fades from their home entirely. that way there's a way open for mom to come back and Reader can wait for as long as it takes. she ages normally until 25 and that's when her body stops aging as long as she's on her little plot of land.

Anyway, so Soap, after catching feelings, convinces her to mourn her parents and finally move on/leave and live a mortal life (even if she still a witch).

i guess if the story would have gone that way, then Gaz wouldn't have turned into a vamp (of if he did, then it wouldn't be a reader/gaz story).

and that's how Soap ruined New. Now that I've let the side story play out in my head, I'm hoping I can just get back on track with the Gaz story 😅