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corroded-hellfire · 5 months ago

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Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar.

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage.

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks.

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet.

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be.

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink.

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head.

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation.

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air.

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using.

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on.

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter.

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers.

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows.

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys.

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers.

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you.

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either.

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around.

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister.

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it.

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad.

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that.

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals.

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time.

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS #dad!eddie

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 7 months ago

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Slap a Bow on It

"Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

Danny blinked.

He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway.

If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other.

Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?"

"Hey," Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge.

Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed.

"Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

"Nah."

Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could.

“Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

“Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

“Kay.”

Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent.

Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know.

As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table.

He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord).

He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos.

At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

The answer was apparently yes.

The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop.

Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank.

Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

His shoulder is poked again.

Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep.

“I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

“Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

“You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

“It was worth a shot.”

Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

“You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,” He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture.

He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end.

So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker.

He was being courted.

He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street.

Danny had never been courted before!

Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something.

Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him.

There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous.

This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

What is he going to do about it?

He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps.

As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

Danny was wrong.

Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher?

Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right?

He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

The recipe said quick and easy.

This was neither quick nor easy.

He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake!

Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing.

Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to.

He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then-

Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think!

Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios.

What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use.

Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies.

Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

So…

It could’ve gone worse.

Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet.

After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem.

Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project.

With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work.

Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair.

It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance.

Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound.

Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never.

He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment.

A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible.

He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

"Hood, let me help."

"Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

"Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

“Good.”

Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

“Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing.

Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

“Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?”

He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge.

“It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

“I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.”

Jason laughs.

Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

“You wanted to make me a gun?”

“Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life.

This. This is what he's been missing.

Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

“Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

“Aren’t yours?”

Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his.

Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

“I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles.

Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

“Why me?”

“Hmm?”

“Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

“You punched a mugger.”

“Yeah… so?”

“You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

“And?”

Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

Danny stared back.

Oh…

Oh!

“Do you have a competency kink!?”

Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan.

#Danny: You have a competence kink!#Jason: I do not have a competency kink.#Jason a few weeks later after watching Danny shoot a man with a Macgyver-ed microwave: Fuck... do I have a competency kink?#I'm not actually sure if this leans more toward a T rating or an M rating and I would appreciate input #Slap a Bow on It #deadonmayn24 #my writing #dpxdc #dead on main #dom24d1

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thankskenpenders · 7 months ago

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After a recent interview where Iizuka said it was possible for IDW characters to show up in the games, I've seen some discussion about how the characters need to be introduced "the right way" for people who don't read the comics. And, like, this is obviously true to some extent. You want to convey why people unfamiliar with them should care about these characters, instead of just assuming everyone already knows who they are and their whole backstories and everything. (Anyone who's watched Disney+ Star Wars already has some easy examples of times where they were like "you guys already know this character from the cartoons, right?" and casual fans were completely lost.) But I think people are overestimating how much work this would actually take, especially people who argue that the characters need full-blown reintroductions in the games that depict their backstories all over again and treat them as characters Sonic doesn't already know

I think it's easy to forget that not everyone who plays Sonic games has played every Sonic game. Kids especially. Every single major recurring character in the games debuted before today's generation of Sonic kids was born, and as such every new game is someone's introduction to those characters. The games with the introductions for the Chaotix, Blaze, Silver, Omega, Cream, the Babylon Rogues, Fang, Mighty, Ray, etc. are straight up not available at all on modern hardware without resorting to emulation. To many people picking up Team Sonic Racing or Mania or whatever, those characters are already some random characters Sonic apparently already knows from some previous story. These are not things that every single person who picks up a new Sonic game is intimately familiar with. And yet the games don't feel the need to stop and recount their entire backstories every time they appear.

Also, like, even if you have played every single game, Sonic already has a long history of introducing new characters with little to no fanfare, often treating them as characters Sonic has already met. Core characters like Tails, Amy, and Metal Sonic were really just dropped into Genesis era sequels with no explanation for people who didn't read the manual (i.e.: most players). Sonic has a kid sidekick and a girl who has a crush on him and a robot duplicate now, just roll with it. The modern era would continue to do this with characters like the reimagined Team Chaotix, or Orbot and Cubot, who just appeared in the games one day with no setup. We got along just fine.

(This is to say nothing of the nature of the creative medium the IDW characters originate from, where every new comic arc is treated as somebody's first and supporting characters are periodically given reintroductions to get newer readers up to speed. We've been over Whisper's backstory multiple times now.)

Again, obviously I do want characters like Tangle, Whisper, and Surge to show up in the games with compelling introductions that do the characters justice, but I think people are overthinking how much effort that actually takes. You do not need a whole elaborate adaptation of Whisper and Surge's backstories in the games just for them to have a cameo. You can have Sonic already know them, and if the details are even relevant you can convey that stuff in other ways - brief exposition in the dialogue, context clues, in-game character bios, new stories that showcase their important character traits without 1:1 recreating the stories that have already been told, out-of-game promotional videos and animated shorts like the ones they did to get people up to speed on who the hell Fang is, etc. This is pretty basic stuff when writing for a long-running multimedia franchise.

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pursuitseternal · 7 months ago

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“Release Me:” ⛓️ Chains and feral smut ⛓️ for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 2K

“Chains” prompt for Ascended Astarion Week

Summary: After weeks of captivity and starvation, you finally rescue your love from his enemies. But the beast chained in the cell barely knows himself or you… until you’ve satisfied all his hungers.

CW: Blood kink (I just wanted a reason to have them fuck covered in blood), Feral/primal play, desperate sex, long nailed AA, prison sex, bondage/mild BDSM

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥

Musty, dark, dead. The bowels of the Red Wizard’s tower are worse than a dungeon. Not a speck of light, no slight hint of breeze. It is a tomb. A coffin. And inside somewhere is your love.

You can feel him, his blood calling to you, even as his mind has unraveled these long weeks of capture. You get fleeting images of his senses: the wide-eyed fear in his chest to be imprisoned in the dark. Away from his beloved sun. The racing pant of his breath to be so enclosed, not unlike that year he never speaks of under Cazador’s torment. Locked away. You feel the stinging of silver chains gnawing at his flesh, burning just enough to sap his strength, but not so strong as to kill him.

This was meant for pain, constructed for punishment, to hold him until his enemies would kill him. Your beloved. Your lord and king and master, overthrown by his foolish need for more power. You told him not to go alone to seek the remnants of the Red Wizards of Thay… you warned him they would want their tome returned and would punish him for knowledge of it.

Even the decrepit remnants of a failed cult can win from time to time.

Your chest burns as you try to catch your breath, your skin and armor slick with the blood of your enemies. But your feet propel forward regardless, pulled by the tether of your bond to Astarion.

You heave a sigh of relief to finally find the cells, thick black doors almost indecipherable in the darkness. A little daylight spell, and your eyes adjust to find a dozen doors carved from the bedrock of this damnable tower. The rattling of metal links, the rough snarls of breath grows louder as you close your eyes and follow the ragged beat of his ascended heart.

Hand shaking, you pull out a Knock spell scroll, a sigh of relief that your own Wizard companion of old had prepared you to take on these foes. Even as your fingers stick to the parchment, hands soaked in blood, you recite the word, and the edge of the cell door glows bright white for a moment.

Resonant, it creaks open on its ancient hinges, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes and the crescendo of dry-throated breath. His body drags across the floor towards your daylight, and your heart bursts with ache to finally see him again. Tears sting your eyes.

Paperwhite and beyond deathly pale, his gaunt face leers at you from the darkness. Lines of red, of raw flesh cross his neck and bare arms and legs where he has been chained.

Chained naked.

Your bile rises in your stomach as you curse his captors souls, glad you have already put those Wizards to a bloody, eviscerating death. You’d do it all again, just to punish them for how they’ve tortured your love. Breathing his name, you enter his cell, the walls of black stone absorbing the light of your spell, it seems. But it gives off enough for you to see every line of his hollowed face, every crest of his bony frame.

Astarion twists against his chains, his mind a pulsing mess of feelings and words, too feral to even speak yet. But one word comes across clearly.

Blood.

His nostrils flare, his tongue dangling over his fangs as he scans your spattered armor. A predator with the scent of prey in his nose.

There’s blood in the air…

He’s too hungry, too starved for blood and for you to be safe. Not with they way his eyes are wild and his tongue laps at his jaw. “Astarion,” you speak, making his black-blown eyes focus on you. “I’m here my love,” you reach a hand out to caress his silver hair, but he just snaps his fangs at you once you're in reach. Those silver chains holding him just shy of disaster.

“Naughty,” you try to chide him, but the humor is lost on his hungry body and soul. Mind racing, your feet race faster, hands finding the closest fallen enemy to drag it back after you down the hall. Then you leave it, ignoring the muffled grunts and growls and slurps he makes as he drains the corpse completely.

When you glance back inside, he looks at you, steadier, calmer, and covered in blood. He still crouches on the ground, hands and feet and neck bound, but now he croaks your name. “Darling,” his voice pains you with recognition, “I knew you’d come.”

You hurry to his side, kicking that light, bloodless corpse to the side. The silver chains at his ankles sting you, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of separation you have endured for weeks. You pull the silver apart in your hands, freeing his legs so he can stretch them out at long last.

A deep grunt of relief sounds from his chest. Your hands work up and down one leg, then the other, trying to soothe the tension and numbness and blood flow.

As you reach the top of his thighs, you withdraw in surprise. His cock achingly hard, juts against his belly, twitching and pink and… happy to see you too.

“I have missed you,” his voice caresses your ear and rushes down your spine, the chains at his neck clinking their high-pitched music as he leans against you. Nose buried in your hair, he inhales your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “I can’t wait another moment, my love.” His voice unearthly, barely more than a growl, his hands chained near his belly reach into your armor.

You notice his nails, literally clawing for you, seeking your flesh. Nails, so long unkempt, have taken on their wild form, the razor sharp talons of a vampire lord. “I was so worried…. I missed you, my love,” you sigh, an edge of fear in your belly as you long to kiss those bloodstained lips with your own. Ignoring the sting, you grab the silver chain, a little yank to tug at him, making a playful, aroused smirk turn his dripping, scarlet lips as his body draws closer.

“I am master of myself once more,” his brows cant rakishly, even in the dark. “I won’t bite unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he croons straining against your leash.

“Oh, I think you're asking for more than a nibble,” you tease to release some of the fear that still lingers in your veins. Never have you been separated from him since you turned, and never, not even during the Rite of Ascension and your fight against his old master have you feared his death more than these past weeks. Floodgates break, your need to touch him and taste him overpowering all logic and fear.

Your fingers work quickly, unlatching your breastplate and cuisses, eyes locked into his as he watches your every move, tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. You let the metal clang to the floor. Those two restrained hands extend for you, making the chains around his arms hiss as the magic sears more into his flesh anew.

“Hold still,” you order, crouching to grab the chains and tug them free from his flesh, his wounds instantly closing up now that he is well-fed once more.

For all the pain that must be lancing through his body, he just holds your stare with his own, sultry and feral and commanding. “Now, where were we?” he purrs, hands trembling to finally touch your body. Even with sapped strength, he pulls you flush against him, bringing you close. Slotting you in your place against his body. Those blood-caked claws dig into the supple cover of your leathers, tearing through it at your hips and down the seams as though they are paper. You’ll worry about decency later, for now you’re of one mind, unable to think until you’ve joined again.

You sink your body onto his cock, and he sinks his fangs into your blood-spattered neck. Your groans bounce off the pitch black walls, a roar of bliss and relief and release. No more fear or danger, aside from the fear of coming too quickly and the danger of spending hours fucking once more, covered in the drying gore of your foes.

The thought tickles from your mind to his, and he laughs as he thrusts up into you. “Just like old times,” he rasps between swallows from your neck.

Like old times, like every time, your body follows its instincts, finally filled with what you have most craved. His cock stretches you, a nearly unfamiliar pressure once more, but you hardly notice, not with how dripping wet you’ve become just to feel his breath on your neck and savor his muscled frame thrusting into you.

Tears prick at your eyes but you won’t let them wash that blood from your cheeks. No, you just grip into his hair, pulling his mouth from the puncture wounds in your neck to your own waiting lips. The copper tang of your blood floods your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, the familiar taste of your own blood mixing with the nasty pollution of your enemies’ he drained earlier.

It sours your stomach, the taste, but you’re too lost in the way his breath warms you, inside and out. Those long, feral nails score into your back, wandering quickly between your writhing bodies. With low, rumbling growls into your mouth, he grips your waist, moving you and holding you in place as he fucks harder. More erratic. More hellsbent on that release he needs.

His voice fills your ear, “My Consort, my love, my pet, my saviour,” he pours your beloved epithets over you, breath ragged and out of synch with his roughly snapping hips. One hand lies splayed on the stone behind him, that extra leverage driving him deeper with abandon. He’s thickening inside you, so hot and too quickly.

“Don’t get carried away,” you chide, yanking at the chain around his neck, making his crimson eyes stare at you with lust-blown pupils. “You haven’t even given me a reward yet for my daring bravery, my love.” You make him hiss, his slack mouth baring his fangs in pleasure-ridden pain. “And you haven’t even granted me an apology for running headlong into this… foolishness,” you cock your chin and tug his chain-leash again. “Promise me, no more ludicrous missions without me.”

He growls but nods, hands digging at your ass, not one hint of resistance.

“Then I’m satisfied, well…” you wriggle, clenching your walls on his throbbing cock inside you, “soon to be satisfied.” A laugh shared on both your panting lips, you ride his lap, bringing him back under a steady rhythm, drawing out his pleasure until you’ve had yours as well. He pulls against his last remaining chain, and you tut your tongue. One of your hands brings his fingers into the apex of your thighs, coaxing his finger to circle your clit with every buck. Your other hand releases that leash, freeing it from his flesh at last so you can grab his chin. Then you lick… long and cleansing, tasting the remnants of your blood, and your enemies’, and faint traces of his own.

That warm tip of his tongue laps at the corner of his lips, his breath heavy as he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. Spine arching, hips canting fervently, you scream for him, tears in your throat and down your face at last, as if you didn’t believe you’d ever be brought to orgasm by him again. Sharp nails score into the sensitive flesh of your folds, hips slamming into your last waves of pleasure as he spills inside you, spurt after spurt of his seed filling you and leaking to the prison floor beneath you both.

Crimson eyes glance up at you, wild and sated, hungry and happy all at once. “Get me home, my Consort,” he whispers. “You’ll be coming on my cock in our bed next.”

You smirk, breathless, pulling out a scroll to open a portal to your palace. As you stand, you kick the chains at your feet with your boot, thankful he’s released into your care once more.

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

💞 to @marimosalad and @nyx-knox

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

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Ouija Board Prompt Idea

A/N: A late night Idea that came to me instead of sleep and I wrote this down during lunch break

Danny was just in Gotham because the city spirit had asked him for assistance with a rather persistent unruly Ghost that didn't understand that this was her haunt and she did not want them there.

So when he got the notice he did his kingly duties and made sure the Ghost was no longer annoying Lady Gotham. He was the Ghost King but even he didn't want to anger a spirit as old as her. He had watched the spirit take a ghostly club and hit Clockwork the Ancient of Time with it without remorse the first time they were introduced. So yea, no messing with this one.

He had been about to portal back home when he felt a strange pull one that was close to when he got summoned but yet it didn't feel as demanding but more like a little kid pulling on his shirt hesitantly. So he checked it out…

… and came across a group of vigilantes investigating an occult side.

Invisible he watched them, curious. He used to do the teen hero stick too before the whole Ghost King business allowing him to get some semblance of a normal life with his rogues, might as well see how others to that hero stick. Besides the pull he felt appeared to come from that tall one wearing a red helmet something was up with that guy.

"Come on, ask the ghosts a question or are you too chicken to do it?"

"I will not participate in this nonsense, Red Hood."

"Come on guys it will be fun!"

"For whom? You, Spoiler?"

"RR aren't you curious?"

"We just gotta ask the board a question and if a ghost is around they will answer by moving it, right?"

"Ghosts don't exist."

Okay Danny was not taking personal offense here but he was a half ghost and he ruled the Ghost Zone filled with ecto-entities that could count as ghosts. So yes, ghosts existed. It was a simple decision then as he floated down invisible crouching next to board still invisible and out of the way from them.

Making sure he made a lot of scraping noises as he moved the small wooden piece on the board to 'YES'.

Someone yelped and someone else shrieked, though Danny wasn't sure if that was a shriek of excitement or not. He still grinned at their reactions.

"Did that just move to 'YES'! It did, didn't it!"

Yea okay that earlier was a shriek of excitement considering how that girl in purple was jumping around. Though the poor kid among them looked a little paler now, Danny decided to keep an eye on the kid to make sure he wasn't overdoing it.

"Okay so a ghost is here?"

Maybe he should have bothered listening to Lady Gotham or Tucker more about the vigilantes of Gotham. Oh well no time better as this to learn. What did the girl call this boy again, RR? Danny wondered what that stood for.

He moved the piece around the board a little making sure they noticed before he spelled something out.

"N-O-S-H-I-T-S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K. No shit Sherlock. Ha! I like this ghost!" The tall one laughed, he believed the kid called him Red Hood earlier. Well the red helmet was a great testament to that sort of code name. Still he wondered about that weird feeling he got from the guy but pushed that aside for later.

"Well since there is a ghosts, what should we ask?"

"Maybe how old he is?"

"Think it rude to ask how he died?"

Danny rolled his eyes. Those were such mainstream questions.

"B-O-R-I-N-G, 1-6 , YES. Guys it looks like we are not were imaginativ."

"Well what do you suggest we ask then?"

"I don't know! Maybe he can show us a cool trick?"

"You know that reminds me of this game that's been out for a while, phasmophobia or something like that?"

Oh Danny knew this one! Tucker had told him about the game, he himself hadn't played it but he had watched his best friend do so, they had a lot of fun joking about how the ghosts were portrayed and the tools that were available to the players.

"So what? We ask the ghost to play Hide and Seek with us?"

"Let's cease this nonsense. This is not something we should mess with."

"Oh are you scared?"

He made a show of moving the wooden piece, doing his best not to snicker out loud as he moved the piece to count down from the number 9. Letting his own powers out a little to cause the already dim light to flicker and the room to cool down several degrees.

The reaction was instant once again. Though he didn't expect them to run for hiding spaces he definitely did not expect these people to pull out their weapons and position against each other's back like they were ready for a fight. Then again they were vigilantes

The poor kid among them looked even paler. Before his count down could reach 0 he decided to not scare the poor kid more. Pulling back his powers the room's temperature normalized and the lights stopped flickering. He moved the wooden piece knowing that at least one of them was watching it in anticipation.

"J-K-S-O-R-R-Y"

"I think the ghost just apologized to us?" The RR teenager said carefully and Danny couldn't help the sheepish smile even if they couldn't see it in his invisible state.

"You know about the game?"

He moved the piece to YES.

"So you thought it was fucking appropriated to scare us like that?"

He moved the piece around and placed it back to YES before spelling out sorry again. The vigilantes shared a look and Danny decided to spell out a question.

"L-I-T-T-L-E-G-U-Y-O-K-A-Y"

"Huh? Uh yea Robin is fine." They looked confused but Danny kept his eyes on the kid. Well the poor boy still looked very pale but he also appeared to try to put on a brave front, it nearly caused a chuckle to escape the halfa.

"Can you show yourself?"

"S-U-R-E"

Not like he was really going to show himself but this was going to be fun, he thanked the Ancients that he was taking lessons with Pandora on how to manipulate his own ectoplasm. He summoned a blob of it making sure he himself was still invisible as he let the green blob be visible, forming it and making it look like a blob ghost.

The reaction was once again instant. They yelled in the chaos all he caught sounded like 'Lazarus water! Moving Lazarus Water!' Before the pale kid, Robin they said, slashed at his ectoplasm blob with his katana, essentially doing nothing to the blob of ectoplasm. The sword just went through it and Danny still holding it confused just instinctively let it reform the shape he gave it.

Danny blinked, okay now he was definitely not showing himself. "This is no a ghost but a Pit Demon!"

From the corner of the eye he saw Lady Gotham appear in the room staring at him disapprovingly and holding that ghost club she had used on Clockwork.

"I can explain, really! I was just joking with them!" He stood holding his hands up to smooth the situation, the green blob fell to the ground splashing against the Ouija Board with a loud splat. His chances of not get hit like Clockwork by Lady Gotham were becoming slimmer.

"WHO SAID THAT?!"

Shit, he hadn't used ghost speech but said that out loud.

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rainybubbles · 8 months ago

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How do you meet COD Men ? - AU civilian

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, König, Rudy, Alex, Nikolai

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written, mid or if they're OOC)

SOAP as a firefighter :

-"911, how can I assist you today?"

-"I think there's been a break-in at my place!"

-"Could you describe the intruder, ma'am?"

-"It's... a turkey."

-"A turkey?"

-"Yeah, one of those gobbling birds! My neighbors use a live one for their Thanksgiving, and it somehow busted loose. It barged into my place through the door, gave me a real fright. I dashed into my bathroom, but it went all 'Rambo' on my door, and now it's busted. My handle is broken, I'm stuck in here!"

-"Don't worry, help is on the way."

-And that's when you met Soap. There he was, showing up at your doorstep in full firefighter gear.

-"Hey there ?" he greeted, axe in hand, ready to face off against the rogue turkey.

-You weren’t kidding, he thought.

-He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the havoc that bird had wreaked in your place.

-Your poor sofa was toast, and your table was in pieces. Slowly, he made his way to the damaged door.

-"Hey there, Ah’m a firefighter. I’m here tae break down the door. Please step back."

-"Oh thanks ! I was starting to think I'd be spending the night bawling in my bathtub."

-He chuckled.

-"Wouldnae want a lovely person like yerself spendin’ Thanksgiving solo."

-"Thanks," you replied.

-"I'll get started," Soap said as he began dismantling the door.

-"Here, it looks like the turkey's gone," he reported.

-But when he turned to you, he noticed something amiss.

- Normally, people were relieved to see him, not scared out of their wits.

-His gaze shifted back, and that's when he saw it—the monstrous turkey, ready to pounce.

-Without a second thought, he scooped you up, effortlessly carrying you despite whatever size or weight you were, and bolted past the bird.

-"Why's that thing so fast?" he exclaimed.

-"They're practically dinosaurs, I swear!" you cried from the safety of his arms.

-You both made it to the street. Soap dialed up a wildlife specialist to handle the feathery menace.

-"Ah’l swearin’ off turkey forever," he vowed.

-"I think finding a new place to live might be a good idea," you whispered, still trying to calm your nerves.

-"Aye, yer neighbors are some real characters for pullin’ a stunt like this."

-"Thanks again for this. I mean, I'm sure you've got more pressing cases."

-"No’ really. Usually, it's just family squabbles. Last time, Ah had a grandma tryin’ tae kill her son wi’ mashed potatoes," he joked.

-"Grandma can get wild," you chuckled.

-"Ye have no idea. Name's John, by the way. Sorry for forgettin’ ma manners."

-"Hey, a wild turkey trying to take me out can do that to a person," you quipped. "I'm Y/n," you added.

-He grinned.

-“I owe you big time, Soap," you said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Guess this Thanksgiving, I'll be giving thanks for firefighters and sturdy bathtubs."

-Soap gave you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's all in a day's work. Plus, -it's not every day I get to play hero to a person in distress... from a turkey."

-After the turkey trouble was sorted, Soap bid his farewell. Little did he know, two days later, your new neighbor would be attempting to cook aluminum in his microwave. Maybe this time he'd find a moment to ask for your number.

-------

GHOST as a chef :

-The poor waitress had asked you twice if you wanted to order by the time your date arrived. But it was painfully obvious.

-You had been stood up.

-You tried to ignore the looks, the sensation of your clothes feeling too tight, too constricting. You felt like a clown.

-Staring at your phone, you sent messages, hoping for excuses like traffic or an important matter.

-Maybe he had a flat tire, or perhaps his boss demanded he stay late. Yet, two hours later, you were still there, feeling like a fool.

-That's when the message came: "Oh, I was just joking, you're not my type, you know."

-Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the humiliation wash over you.

-How could someone flirt for two months just as a joke? He messaged you every night; how were you supposed to know it was all a farce?

-Biting your lip, you stood up.

-At this hour, you hoped there were still buses running.

-You couldn't afford an Uber. Yet, as you gathered your things, the waitress approached.

-"Excuse me, but your food will arrive."

-"I... I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't afford anything here, and my date stood me up. He was supposed to pay, and..." you rambled, feeling ashamed, but she led you back to your seat.

-You felt even more ashamed. This place was so luxurious.

-"I really can't afford it, madam," you whispered.

-"It's on the house. The chef offered it," she said gently.

-"Oh."

-You didn't know if you felt grateful or not. It felt like pity, but food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was still a luxury, so you ate. It was unbelievably good. You felt so thankful to the chef.

-"I... could I thank him?" you asked after finishing your dinner.

-"He doesn't speak to clients. That's why he opened his own restaurant — so he could remain unseen by his patrons and not be obligated to accept their thanks, As he says “I Ghost clients”" the waitress explained.

-"I see. His dishes are so precise, it's impressive."

-"Yeah, he's good with a knife."

-"Well, thanks again for offering me this. It was a crappy night, but at least I ended up in heaven," you said.

-She smiled, and you left.

-But you felt indebted to him. Dishes like that cost a lot.

- Even if you didn't doubt he could afford it, you felt like you had to do something in return.

-So the next night, you baked cookies.

-You felt ridiculous with your small Tupperware and homemade cookies.

-They'd probably taste awful to him, you thought, but you wanted to repay him.

-"Hi, I... wanted to give this to Ghost? He offered me dishes last time, and I wanted to thank him. I understand if you say no. I mean, it could have poison in it, but..." you rambled to the waiter.

-"No need, we'll take it," the waiter with a mohawk said with a smile.

-You felt like he knew something you didn't. As you were about to leave, a tall, blond man walked over, holding a cookie.

-"Thanks," he said with a gruff voice behind his mask.

-Shit. Ghost was... this man?

-This mountain of muscles made those beautiful dishes? Those meticulous details came from his hands? You were impressed.

-"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure.

-"Best cookies I've tasted."

-"I know you're lying."

-"Second," he admitted. "My ma's were better."

-You chuckled.

-"I can give you the recipe. I mean, you really saved me last night. It was so... humiliating."

-"It's not. The only one who should feel ashamed is the bloke who stood you up, love."

-"You're right, but still."

-"Come back again, Friday. With the recipe."

-"I can send it by email."

-"I want you to taste a new dish."

-"Oh."

-"Having someone honest is nice. It's a change from all the compliments."

-"Okay," you agreed.

-Little did you know, Simon would always find new dishes to make you come back.

-Of course, he could ask his sous-chefs or waiters to taste, but seeing your smile or frown after a taste was so much better.

-(I need a long fic about Simon being a chef, like this AU has so much potential, plus in kitchen you have “brigade” which could be like 141)

GAZ as a primary school teacher :

-You were on your usual delivery route, this time dropping off packages at the primary school.

-As you made your way through the corridors, you spotted Gaz, the primary teacher, who greeted you with a smile.

-"I was waiting for you," Gaz said cheerfully.

-"Oh, am I right on time?" you responded, glancing at your phone in confusion.

-"Yes, but the kids are eager," Gaz explained.

-You furrowed your eyebrows. Eager for what? Seeing a delivery person? Or perhaps the contents of your package were something special, like paintings or other intriguing items?

-"I see," you said, still puzzled.

-"Follow me," Gaz instructed, leading you into his classroom before you could protest.

-As you entered, you were met with the curious gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.

-It dawned on you as you glanced at a piece of paper – Gaz had mistaken you for the guest speaker, an athlete scheduled to address the students.

-"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," you whispered to Gaz, but before you could say more, a child wrapped their arms around you.

-"I'm so glad you're here!" the child exclaimed, melting your resolve. How could you shatter their excitement?

-You couldn’t bear to crush their excitement. Besides, it was clear that the athlete wasn’t going to show up; it was already 10 AM, and they were supposed to be there by 8AM according to the schedule on the board.

-And so, you found yourself spinning tales to answer their questions, pretending to be the athlete they expected.

-“Um, hey there ! Being an athlete is pretty cool, you know” you improvised, trying to sound convincing.

-“How does it feel to do sports all day ?” one curious kid asked

-“Well it’s tough but you know riding horse is fun”

-“I thought you were running”

-“RUNNING ! Of course, horse is just a hobby” you blurted out

-Despite your fibs, the kids beamed with admiration, hanging onto your every word.

-After a couple of hours, Gaz approached you with a knowing smile.

-"You're not the athlete, are you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

-"How did you figure it out?" you replied sheepishly.

-"When you mentioned unicorns helping your coach – that was a dead giveaway," Gaz chuckled. "But I appreciate you playing along."

-"I couldn’t bear to disappoint the kids. Kids' dreams are important," you admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.

-"Yeah, they are," Gaz agreed. "Thanks for going along with it."

-"It was more fun than my usual deliveries, anyway," you admitted with a grin.

-“Wait, your boss won’t be mad ?! I mean two hours, sorry you must be so late, no ?”he said worried

-“Don’t worry you were my last”

-As you prepared to leave, Gaz introduced himself properly.

-"Thanks against or helping out. And by the way 'm Kyle, but the kids call me Gaz – it's easier for them," he explained.

-"It was nice meeting you, Gaz," you said sincerely, touched by his kindness towards the children.

-As you left the school, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment. And to your surprise, when you made your next delivery, there was Gaz, offering to lend a hand.

-"Thought you might need some help this time," he said with a wink.

-Maybe it was repayment for your earlier assistance, or perhaps the kids had teased him about having a crush on you – either way, you were grateful for his company.

PRICE as an uni history teacher :

-It was about 10 PM, and there you were, sprinting in high heels, your wig dangling precariously.

-"Oh, for the love of all that’s good," you muttered under your breath.

-The situation was straightforward, yet utterly absurd.

- You, a university teacher, found yourself at a costume party with a Bridgerton theme.

- After hastily getting ready at your friend’s place, it dawned on you that you had forgotten your house key.

-Sure, crashing at your friend's was an option, but you had a furry friend waiting at home who needed your attention.

-So, off you went, driving back to the only place your keys could be: the teacher's offices at the university.

- Picture this: you, clad in an 18th-century outfit, a fake wig teetering on your head, and a petticoat swishing around, all the while cursing your luck and hoping no students would spot you.

-Finally, you reached the office, finding it deserted. You located your keys and—

-"Quite the accurate ensemble, I must say."

-You froze, turning to find a man with a rather impressive beard. "Um, I can explain?"

-"Are you a student?" he asked.

-"No need to butter me up; I know I don't exactly look like one," you confessed.

-He chuckled. "Sorry, I was just trying to give you an out. You know, student parties and whatnot."

-"Thanks, but yeah, I'm the… new teacher. Guess we haven't crossed paths yet. Been here about a month," you said, extending your hand.

-"Well, isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he remarked.

-"How so?"

-"I’m John Price," he revealed.

-Your eyes widened. Oh, crap. You just met THE history teacher of the campus dressed as a Bridgerton character. What were the odds?

-He laughed. "Nice to meet my new colleague. Heard quite a bit about your work."

-"Likewise, and… sorry about the attire," you apologized.

-"No need. It suits you. Makes me feel like a proper gentleman seeing someone dressed like that," he said with a grin.

-You chuckled nervously. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Price."

-Little did you know, your next class for the first year was a shared one with him. Dodging him might not be as simple as you thought.

NIKOLAI as a F1 pilot :

-Your friend's desperate plea over the phone stirred something in you.

-"Alright, I'll come help with the shoot," you conceded, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension.

-As you arrived at the location, taking in the serene surroundings, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the bustling crew.

-Your specialty lay in capturing the untamed beauty of animals—dogs, cats, and the like.

-This commercial setup felt like a far cry from your usual stomping grounds.

-Engaging in conversation with the staff about the artistic direction, you couldn't help but notice the artificiality of the setting, with fake plants and trees surrounding you.

-Nevertheless, you settled in, adjusting lights and preparing for the task at hand.

-"The model is here," an assistant announced, drawing your attention to the center of the room where a man stood, completely naked.

-"Why is he naked?" you whispered in disbelief, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks.

-"It's for the charity event, featuring naked pilots for calendars," the staff explained casually, oblivious to your discomfort.

-Stunned, you turned to your friend, silently questioning her decision to involve you in this unconventional endeavor.

-"I photograph nature and animals, not... naked humans!" you protested, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

-"Well, technically, you photograph a big snake," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.

-You rolled your eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Ugh, don't even mention his...thing, please."

-"I don't mind being called an anaconda," the man interjected with a smirk, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart race.

-Caught off guard by his boldness, you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity.

- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about these... circumstances," you stammered, struggling to maintain composure.

-"I understand. If we need to reschedule, no problem, Солнышко ," he reassured, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

-"What did you just say?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of fluster in your tone.

-"Sorry, I meant no problem to reschedule, sunshine," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

-"But you're... a star?" you questioned, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

-"I'm a well-known F1 pilot, yes. But I'm closer to retirement than those young ones. I doubt people would buy the calendar for me," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

-"I'd certainly buy it for you," your friend chimed in, breaking the tension with a playful grin.

-He laughed, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. "And you?"

-"I... maybe? Okay, we'll do it, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm more accustomed to animals, so..." you trailed off, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of working closely with him.

-"Let's get started," he suggested, his smile softening the edges of the room and easing your nerves.

-And so, the shoot commenced, with Nikolai proving to be a surprisingly adept model, effortlessly charming everyone with his wit and charisma.

- As you directed him through the poses, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between you, a magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

-"Thanks for today. Need a ride?" he offered, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

-"No, I came in my car," you replied, torn between the desire to stay and the need to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

-"The red one?" a staff member inquired, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you.

-"Yeah, why?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the thought of your car.

-"Sorry, mate, your car got impounded," they informed you, their words puncturing the bubble of tension that had enveloped you.

-You sighed, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. "So, a ride?" Nikolai offered, his gaze softening with concern.

-"Yeah, I guess. What a crappy day," you muttered, cursing your luck.

-"Don't say that, it was great," he insisted, his voice gentle and reassuring.

-You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him for his unexpected kindness. In his car, as he drove you away from the chaos of the shoot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that was only amplified by his soothing presence.

-"Not what you were expecting, huh?" he remarked, his tone playful yet sincere.

-"Well, I wasn't expecting a race car drive, but yeah," you chuckled, feeling the tension between you slowly dissipating.

-"I drive safely. Sometimes you need low adrenaline," he explained, his words resonating with you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

-"Thanks again for the ride," you said, turning to him with a smile that felt more genuine than any you had worn all day.

-"No problem. I mean, you've seen me naked, so..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

-"Yeah, sure," you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the playful banter.

-"If you want, you can still come to one of my races," he offered, his gaze lingering on you with a hopefulness that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

-"I'll think about it," you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips as you contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead.

ALEX as a lawyer :

-You couldn't believe your eyes.

-A client was after you for a cup of tea—yes, you heard that right, a freaking tea!

-The same tea you accidentally spilled during a chaotic rush, and she tripped you with her feet, claiming you scalded her with hot tea. The kicker?

-You knew it was iced tea.

- But it was your word against hers, and she had a squadron of lawyers ready to pounce, while you were broke. It was pretty clear how this would end.

-You sighed, resorting to searching for lawyers online, but all you found were scams.

-One promised to chase after dead people, another claimed you'd make thousands just by being pretty, and the rest boasted about defending infamous criminals with laughably bad Photoshopped images.

-Feeling desperate, you reluctantly agreed when your mom mentioned your cousin knew someone who knew someone. You certainly didn't expect a model-lawyer showing up at your doorstep with a bright smile and legal expertise.

-"Hi, I'm Alex," he offered his hand.

-"Hi, I guess you know about my... case?" you replied.

-"Yes, there's a high chance of her winning since similar cases have ruled in favor of people like her. Remember the McDonald's hot coffee incident?" he explained.

-"So I'm screwed?" you muttered.

-"Not necessarily. I can prove she's acting out of self-interest."

-"...before you say anything, you know, I can't... afford it?" you interjected.

-"Yes. I... I used to be a prominent lawyer. Perhaps you've heard of the Shepherd case?" he mentioned.

-"The CEO who got off the hook despite everyone knowing he committed tax fraud?" you recalled.

-"Yes, I was his lawyer," he admitted.

-"Oh," you murmured, taken aback.

-"I... I'm not proud of the people I've defended. I didn't realize the harm I was causing to victims. For me, everyone deserved representation, but when I saw what Shepherd did with his ill-gotten gains... I couldn't continue down that path. I signed up to advocate for people. Not evil," he confessed.

-"So you took on lost causes like me?" you mused.

-"You could say that," he smiled.

-"Well, it sounds like Daredevil. Maybe I'll catch you wearing a latex suit at night while fighting crime," you joked.

-"You might be onto something there," he replied, his expression serious.

-"Wait, you're joking?" you asked, but he didn't crack a smile.

-"Mr. Keller, you're joking, right?" you pressed, but he just smirked.

-"Let's focus on your case," he redirected.

-"You can't just dodge my question. I need to know—"

-"Boxing. I box at night, nothing illegal. I train kids, and I've competed in the past," he confessed.

-"I see. Why do I find that hard to believe?" you teased.

-"I'm a damn good liar. I'm a lawyer," he retorted.

-"Fair point," you chuckled.”well at least I believe in the latex suit at night”

-“Kinky”he joked, you smiled.

-Alex got down to business, helping you devise a strategy.

-Maybe with this super lawyer on your side, you stood a chance. Yet, you couldn't shake the curiosity about his secrets. Who knows what uncovering them might bring?

KÖNIG as a baker :

-König had just opened his bakery.

- Eager to be neighborly, he sent some cookies to the local shops nearby.

- However, when his customers arrived one day, one of them expressed hesitation: "You know, I was hesitant to buy here because I heard you made the florist down the street sick."

-König couldn't believe his ears.

- Ashamed, he double-checked his ingredients, but everything seemed fine.

-So, he decided to switch things up and bake some croissants instead.

-Yet, the next day brought news that the florist had fallen ill due to food poisoning.

-Determined to make amends, König sent something different the following day.

-And the pattern repeated itself. After a week of this, he finally decided to confront the florist.

-Entering their cute shop, he whispered nervously, "Hallo."

-"Hi," you replied.

-"I'm König, the—"

-"The baker," you interrupted.

-He froze.

-Well, he certainly hadn't made a good impression.

-After seven incidents, he couldn't expect a warm reception, but he hoped you’d understand he hadn't done it intentionally. He wasn't a villain.

-"I'm sorry about the pastries," he began, "I swear I don't know what went wrong. Other shops ate them and had no issues. I—"

-"I know you're not trying to poison me," you interjected.

-"Oh, but... then why?" he asked.

-"I thought someone would have told you, maybe Horangi, the chef at the restaurant. But I'm lactose intolerant. I assumed you knew, so I ate your pastries thinking someone had informed you. Then, I realized that wasn't the case. But if I didn't eat your gift, you might have thought I was upset with you, so I still ate them, and—"

-"It was a misunderstanding," König finished their sentence.

-"Two anxious people overthinking things, but yeah," you admitted, laughing.

-"I promise to bake you something lactose-free," he vowed.

-"Thanks, it'll be appreciated. Your pastries were good, just not for my digestive system," you replied.

-He nodded and returned to his bakery, pondering the idea of introducing gluten and lactose-free versions of his pastries. Surely not because of the cute florist who seemed to visit more often now. Nah.

RUDY as a librarian :

-You were a young journalist, eager to dive into investigative reporting, but your editor relegated you to the local sports section since you were the new kid on the block.

- It wasn't exactly your passion, but you made the best of it. Your current assignment: write about Rodolfo Parra, a former boxer.

-Avoiding the internet due to its unreliable nature, especially for local stories, you opted for the library.

- As you searched for information on Parra, a man approached.

-"Need a hand?" he offered.

-You glanced at his badge, confirming his name as Rudy.

-"Yeah, I'm digging up info on the boxer Rodolfo Parra. I heard his early days were at the local club, so I figured the archives might have something," you explained.

-Rudy smiled. "Rodolfo Parra, huh?"

-"Yeah, you know him?"

-"You could say that, but I've heard he's not too keen on journalists."

-"Exactly why I couldn't land an interview," you sighed.

-"But why write about him? He retired two years ago," Rudy questioned.

-"My boss wants it, so here I am," you replied with a hint of resignation.

-"I've got some info, but can I trust you?" Rudy hesitated.

-"Absolutely, I'll respect his privacy. I just want to know his story, his struggles. I've heard rumors about a fixed fight where a coach, El Sinombre, forced him to lose," you shared.

-Rudy's expression darkened. "It was more than that. I'm surprised you know about it."

-"I've delved into El Sinombre's dealings before. I wanted to write for investigative reporting," you confessed. "I found it odd that a sports club had ties to a pharmacy."

-"They developed stimulants to win fights, and more... potent substances," Rudy revealed.

-"So Rodolfo lost to a doped-up opponent?" you concluded.

-"Yeah. Rumor has it, El Sinombre threatened his family if he didn't comply. Rodolfo vowed never to lose, so El Sinombre took matters into his own hands..." Rudy trailed off.

-"And Rodolfo ended up paralyzed," you finished solemnly.

-"Yeah, but with rehab, he's probably walking now. But he can't fight anymore," Rudy confirmed.

-"Having your dreams crushed like that must be devastating. A fighter silenced," you mused.

-"Maybe it was for the best," Rudy countered.

-"You think so?" you questioned.

-"Boxing isn't a lifelong career. Maybe retiring was a blessing," he reasoned.

-"I don't know, having your dreams shattered like that... it must take a toll. Imagine if someone burned down your library," you countered.

-"Well, this library was my backup dream, so I'd just have to find another," he quipped.

-You nodded, then realization dawned. "Your backup dream?"

-"Yeah," Rudy admitted. "Rudy for Rodolfo. Not the smartest move for a future investigative journalist, huh?"

-"Hey! You—yeah, I was naïve, but you could've given me a heads-up," you teased back.

-"Now, tell me about your boss. Things might be more complicated than we thought," Rudy suggested.

-"Do you think El Sinombre is after you?" you pondered.

-"We'll find out," he replied cryptically.

-Maybe your beat would evolve over time...

If you want more : my masterlist

I still need to write Alejandro, Lasswell and Farah, maybe in a next part with other characters :) !

#cod x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #call of duty x reader #captain price x reader #alex keller x reader #nikolai x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader

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seokminfilm · 13 days ago

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sweetpeas | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, short, lowercase intended, fluff, period comfort, self-indulgent, seokmin calls reader 'sweetpea' and 'love', reader uses nicknames for seokmin, seokmin soft hours!!!!

now playing: darling, seventeen

"hi, sweetpea," seokmin whispers quietly, cracking open the door to see if you are still sleeping. you were, in fact, wide awake, looking to the door as a small smile came across your features as you reached out to him like a tired toddler. "min?"

"yes, it's min," seokmin smiles again, sitting at the edge of the bed as he takes your warm hands in his, kissing your fingertips as he stares down at your slightly pain-stricken expression. the heating pad rests on your lower stomach, and you're curled into a little half-moon, resembling a rollie pollie.

"are you doing okay?" seokmin asks concerned, and you shake your head 'no' slightly, taking his hands and placing them on your now warm body as you sigh. "i'm okay, just still in a tiny bit of pain."

"god, sweetpea. i'm so sorry." seokmin leans down to press a soft kiss to your tender lower stomach, and you giggle at the feeling of his lips on your stomach, causing him to smile down at you as he sighs.

"want me to do anything for you? get you anything?" seokmin strokes your hair, hand running over your head softly and repetitively as you hum.

"fruit," you mumble, and seokmin sighs, pouting cutely at your muffled reply as he sighs.

"love, i'm gonna need you to speak up. you're cute and all when you mumble, but i wanna be able to get you what you want without any miscommunications, okay?" seokmin asks, and you nod softly, tossing for a second as you find another comfortable position. "now, what did you say you wanted?"

"fruit, seokmin. i want some fruit." you look up at him with a soft, pleading expression, and he chuckles at you, running his slender hands over your stomach as you smile up at him.

"what kind?" seokmin asks, and you shake your head, offering a weak shrug. "i don't really care what kind, seok. i just want some fruit."

"okay, okay sweetpea—i hear you." seokmin kisses both your cheek and lips softly before pulling away from your body, and you whine, obviously not ready to part with seokmin just yet.

"give me 10 minutes, okay? i'm gonna cut some fresh fruit for you." seokmin consoles you, sweet voice bringing tears to your eyes as you mutter out a weak "really? fresh fruit? for me?"

"of course, sweetpea! anything for my girl." seokmin promises, and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, suddenly overwhelmed with the love and appreciation you have for seokmin (probably partially, if not fully from your hormones going rogue).

"seokkie, i love you. so much." you weep into your pillow, and seokmin laughs softly, squatting down beside the bed to stroke your hair. "look at me, love."

sniffling and trying to clear your face of the tears, you finally look his way, to which seokmin greets your gaze with warm eyes and an even warmer smile as he pecks the tip of your nose.

"and i love you more, love."

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thaleleah · 6 months ago

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𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓶

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark-ish!Billy (just the tiniest bit tho), Virgin!Reader, Dub-Con, P in V, Hate Fucking (kinda but not really lol i tried), Fingering, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Mentions of a gun shot graze, Talk of tying up/restraining/bondage, Slight Dirty Talk, Rough Touches (he grabs her face & throat), Use of the word “drawers” instead of panties cause I'm cringey like that lol

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Dedicated to my anon who sent in this ask and put the thought of hate fucking in my head. I tried, hun lol. Didn't turn out how I thought it would and it's not my best work, but it did help me get out of my writing slump a bit sooooo i hope you enjoy it.

A/N 2: Please accept this supposed to be drabble that turned into basically a fic length thing as compensation for not having Godless Part 2 out yet. Hoping to finish it up within the next couple of weeks 🤞🏻

Summary: Jesse's younger sister is a pretty problem for Billy.

He’s so pissed at you.

Jesse’s little sister once again trying to prove herself useful, trying to prove that she’s ‘one of the boys’, but doing nothing except getting in the way and causing trouble.

It was supposed to be a quick job. They’ve rustled cattle together enough to have their system down pat, everyone in their gang playing their part perfectly so that they can be in and out of their target’s territory in the shortest amount of time. Very rarely do they get caught in the act now - and if they do, they’re good enough to never suffer losses.

But when there’s a sweet-voiced, overly driven Miss suddenly among their operation when there’s not supposed to be, things can go wrong.

You must have followed them, just far enough behind that they didn’t see you during their final look around before starting their run. One minute, everything was fine. None of the ranch owner’s cowboys were in sight and the cattle were proving to be easy to corral, not a single one of them choosing to go rogue and trying to push out of the herd.

And then the next minute, you were there. You were wearing a dress when they left, a pretty little thing that Billy thought made the color of your eyes pop. It’s not your normal outfit, but you own it now courtesy of Jesse who was tired of hearing you nag about how much you wanted to come with them, how ‘helpful’ you could be if he just gave you a chance, and told you that if you wanted to be helpful you would run down to the local liquor store and make sure he had something to drink when they got back.

You had switched out of the dress and back into your shirt and overalls, the shoes on your feet traded for riding boots instead of those dainty lace up ones. The hat that sat on your head covered your hair and the first thing that Billy notices when you ride up next to him is how tightly your hands are gripping the reins.

The sight of you there catches him off guard and his gallop turns into a canter as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hey!” Jesse shouts from a little farther out. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ here?”

“I deserve to be here just as much as any of you,” You reply, head held high as you glare back at your brother.

“Hell no! Get your ass ou–”

The bullet whizzes past his head, cutting through the air with a near deadly precision. Everyone ducks, heads snapping to where the bullet came from as the sound of the gunshot rings in their ears. There’s a couple of the ranch owner’s cowboys standing at the top of the hill, firing shot after shot towards the gang and the compromised cattle. Another bullet just barely avoids digging itself into Billy’s arm, the hot lead grazing against his upper arm and tearing through his shirt. Your eyes are wide when Billy shouts in pain, your own yell echoing his as he instinctively clutches his arm.

He can see in your face that you’re terrified. You don’t know what to do. You’re going to get hurt if he doesn’t do something.

Without thinking, Billy jerks his horse towards yours, forcefully nudging your own horse in the direction of the nearby treeline while he pulls out his gun with his uninjured arm to help return fire. The gang scatters, most of the cattle is already out past the property line and able to be herded during the commotion. The gunshots continue but no one else gets hit, and the group hollers the entire way back to the house, adrenaline pumping from just the taste of a bit of dangerous contact.

You stay silent the entire ride back home. So does Billy. And so does Jesse.

But the second your feet are back on the ground, you’re in trouble.

Jesse lays into you.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’?”

“I just wanted to help!”

“Yeah? Some help you were. You distracted us! You could have gotten us all killed,”

“Them shootin’ at you had nothin’ to do with me! I deserved to be there!”

Billy sits on the top post of the paddock fence as he presses a clean cloth against the graze on his arm, watching you both as you tear at each other's throats. He’s glaring at you too, bright blue eyes piercing into the side of your face as you scream at your brother. He watches as the tears fall from your pretty eyes, twin streams cascading down your cheeks as your hands fly around you in frustration.

A Pretty Problem. That’s what you are.

You’re a problem when you’re shooting. Your aim is always off, missing targets by an inch and somehow never able to fix yourself enough to hit them the next time. It’s a problem how you ask him for help, your back pressing against his chest and he guides you to adjust your position. Those are the only times your bullets hit the standing cans. When he steps back and you try again, you’re back to missing, and Billy just refrains from rolling his eyes even as his body feels like it’s been touched with a live wire just from the smallest bit of contact with you.

You’re a problem when they’re drinking, a bottle in your hand as you try your best to match their intake. The others would leave you on the floor, stepping over you when you inevitably drop from too much alcohol. It’s Billy that picks you up, wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you to your bed.

You’re a problem when you’re laying there, sprawled out along the sheets somewhere between sleep and forcing yourself to stay awake. The way you look up at him is a problem, eyes glassy and half-lidded as you mumble a soft ‘thanks, Billy,”. He knows he’s not a good person, no matter how hard he tries convince himself he is, but fuck - he deserves some extra points for the self restraint he has to leave you there like that.

You’re a problem when you’re being a brat. The constant butting into conversations, volunteering for jobs and then throwing fits when you’re turned down. You’ve taken to pleading with him for support, asking him to speak on your behalf just to make your brother and the other men see sense.

“You’re the youngest,” You say, and your eyes are wide and nearly watering as you beg. “That’s why they call you The Kid. Doesn’t that bother you? Imagine how I feel!”

And how can you even ask him to do that? You can’t even shoot right on your own. Ain’t no way he’s speaking up for you so you can go on dangerous jobs and get killed.

No.

You fight just as harshly as Jesse does, spewing out insults and arguing your points until you’re both blue in the face. Neither of you notice when Billy jumps off the fence and heads into the house. You make him so angry - so naive and so willing to put yourself in danger just to try to prove yourself. Jesse is right. You could have gotten them all killed today with your little stunt. If you hadn’t been there, then their attention wouldn’t have been divided. Maybe he or Jesse could have seen the cowboys up on the hill a few seconds earlier and gotten out of there without even so much as a graze. In this world, every second is important and being distracted for even a moment can cost you your life.

He’s still stewing when you follow him into the house only a few minutes later. Your eyes are rimmed red, lips puffy from where you’ve clearly been biting them. Bad girl, he thinks as he glares at them. It’s a nervous habit you have and he’s constantly telling you to stop. The sight of your teeth biting into your bottom lip always makes him go crazy. It should be his teeth digging into it instead.

“What?” He mumbles gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

“Got grazed by a bullet,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours even as he hooks a thumb under one of his suspenders and pulls it off his shoulder. “You think I’m okay?”

He watches you as you watch him pull the other one off too, your eyes following the fallen straps as they hang around his waist. They follow his hands back up as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, one after the other after the other until the thin material separates in the middle and he can push it off his shoulders.

His skin feels hot under your intense gaze, and the darker more primal part of his brain wishes you would follow his lead. Undo your own suspenders, unbutton your shirt but make it slow - tease him a little bit cause that’s what you are.

A tease and a brat. And he should treat you like one.

Instead, you’re stepping up to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Your fingers trace just below the thankfully shallow wound of the graze. “You should let me wrap this for you. So it doesn’t get infected,”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” He says in return, and his anger flares as he watches you roll your eyes.

“God, Billy. Come on. Didn’t I get enough of this from Jesse?”

“You could have- hey!” Billy’s hand snaps out to grip your jaw, stopping you in your tracks as you turn to walk away from him. He holds you still, forcing your face to stay turned towards him as he growls. “You could have been killed today with your little stunt. You had no place there,”

Your hands clamp around his wrist trying to pry his hand off of your face and your words are determined despite the small flicker of fear present in your eyes. “I deserve to be there just as much as any of you,”

“Oh yeah? Is that why I had to save you today?”

“You nudged me in a direction I was already goin’ to pull my horse in. I wouldn’t call that savin’,”

He pushes forward, making you shuffle back even as his hand stays firm around your chin. Your back hits the opposite wall, a pretty gasp falling from your lips from the rough movement.

“Brat,” Billy hisses as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall. “You’re a troublemaker. I should tie you to your bed, keep you there - bound and out of harm’s way.”

Your breathing hitches at his words and he can feel the way your fingers clamp tighter around his wrist, those big wide eyes that torment him in his dreams staring up at him.

“Billy,” You whisper, but he just continues his thought.

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, voice low and quiet between the two of you but it somehow sounds deafening in the silence of the house. “Keep you fed and safe. Give you a nice blanket to keep you comfortable while you wait for me to get home.”

Billy’s hand releases your chin, calloused palms sliding down your jaw and wrapping around your throat. He can feel how you swallow thickly under his hold.

“And you can take care of me in return,” He continues, his words almost a growl in your face as his warm breath fans across your skin. “As a reward for keeping you out of trouble.”

Even with only centimeters apart, he can barely hear you as you whisper. “Reward you how?”

And fuck, if you knew all the dirty things that play in his mind at night…

“On your knees,” He says, the hand not currently wrapped around your throat reaches up to flick off the suspender strap around your shoulder. It falls around your waist much like his did just minutes before. “On your back.” The other suspender falls like its twin.

The sound of your heavy breathing echoes in his ears. His eyes drop to your parted lips and he’s sure that his pupils are just as large as yours are. His breathing stops in anticipation despite the fact that it's him who leans in, closing the distance between the two of you as he presses his lips against yours for the first time.

He wants to be embarrassed by the sound he makes when he tastes you, so soft and sweet and somehow so much better than he ever imagined. Your breathing shudders when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, but it cuts off in a soft gasp when he presses in again to kiss you harder. Need curls tightly in his gut, anger burning through his veins at you for making him feel this way.

So on edge all the time, so unhinged. So desperate.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit and the little squeak you let out in response has him swelling in his trousers.

“Troublemakers like you need to be put in their place,” He says, voice raw and gravely with lust. “You wanna be a big girl and ride horses all day on dangerous trips?” His nose bumps against yours, lips just barely brushing against your own as he speaks. “You can ride me instead.”

His hand leaves your throat to pull at the button on your overalls, and your own hands grip onto the tight muscles of his biceps.

“Billy, wait,” You say, hand moving down to cover his as he pops open the buttons, but he grabs your chin in his hold again.

Wait? Wait? You want him to fucking wait? No, you’ve already made him wait long enough.

“Shut up!” He growls. “I’ve heard enough from you.”

His other hand manages to push down your overalls and they fall to the ground, pooling around your ankles. You whimper as his hand slides across your belly, his long fingers tracing over your soft skin as they travel down and down until they slip under the thin material of your drawers.

“Good girls do what they’re told,” He whispers, breathing hot and heavy as he presses his mouth against your cheek, and you can feel the stubble that’s started to grow back already on his jaw scratch at your face. “I’ll have to teach you better.”

You gasp when his fingers first touch you, the gentle caress of his fingertips on your clit that has you jumping against the wall but unable to go anywhere with how he has you pinned. He groans against your cheek when he feels how wet you are already, soaking into the pads of his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“Billy,” You moan, and he kisses you harshly, cutting off the rest of your sentence if there even was more because he can’t bear the thought of you trying to get him to stop again.

No waiting. No stopping. You’re his.

“Just be a good girl for me, okay?”

His fingers slide through your wetness, trailing slowly over your slit as his arm pushes deeper into your drawers. The tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, rubbing and teasing against your dripping hole for a moment before pushing inside you, and fuck - you feel so tight around him already. Your pussy clenches around his finger as he moves it inside of you, sweet cries ripping from your throat when he adds another, stretching you more as he curls his fingers against your slick walls.

He muffles your moans with his lips, and he can’t help but push his hips against you, pressing the thick bulge in his pants against your thigh for some relief.

Damn you, he thinks. Damn you and your driven attitude, bad shooting, sweet demeanor, and pretty face. Jesse could kill him for this. Jesse would, and he would deserve it. But this is your fault. Your. Fault. You tempted him like this. Threw him off his game and destroyed his self control just by being you and he hates you for it.

Your moans are a constant now, turning into desperate whines of “Billy, please! Oh, god, please!” as he watches you greedily hump his hand. He’s throbbing in his pants, cock pulsing with need and heavy as he presses harder against your thigh. He’s not going to last long - not with the way you look right now and the way he knows you're going to feel wrapped around his cock just from how you feel clamping around his fingers right now.

You’re not going to last much longer either, and his fingers thrust inside you faster, thumb rolling over your clit as he pushes you closer and closer towards that edge.

Come on, pretty girl. Be good for me.

He’s never touched you this way before, but it’s like he knows your body inside and out already. The look on your face tells him you’re about to cum, and he wants to see it - wants to see it so badly to see if it matches the same look you have when he makes you cum in his dreams - but he wants to make you suffer. Just a little bit more. Like you make him suffer.

The cry of protest you make when he pulls his hand away is beautiful, as is the way your eyes widen when he brings the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking your taste from them and fuuuuckkk you taste so good. Of course, you taste this good.

He kisses you again, sliding his tongue inside your mouth against yours just to make you taste yourself too as he undoes the buttons on his own pants. The restricting material is gone in seconds along with both of your underwear. His hand grips your hip, squeezing the flesh between his fingers before dragging his hand along the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh.

In one swift movement, he has your leg hooked around his hip and his cock positioned at your entrance.

“Wait,” You whimper, looking up at him with those beautiful big eyes of yours. “I’ve never–”

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, slowly pushing himself forward. The clench of your pussy as he works his cock inside you feels like heaven, slick walls squeezing him tight as he fills you up.

Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he sinks in, face digging into his neck to muffle your soft cry. A pang of guilt shoots through him at your pain. He doesn’t want you hurt. You’re a brat and a troublemaker, but he’s only ever wanted to keep you safe. But the more primal part of his brain keens at the idea.

It’s your first time. He’s your first. You’re his. Only his.

His good girl.

His pretty problem.

He wants to fuck you hard, wants his hips snapping against yours so hard they leave bruises. Wants you crying against his mouth, moans and whimpers so uncontrollable that your brother and the rest of the gang hears them from outside from how loud you’re being. He’s not going to last long, he was right about that. His hips move slowly against yours, cock dragging against your walls as he pulls out until just the tip is left buried in your cunt.

Your small whines of pain quickly turn into pleasure as he rocks into you, your warmth hugging his cock so tightly he thinks you might be trying to keep him buried inside you forever. He fucks you faster, pressing you harder against the wall as he claims your lips again. His fingers find the sensitive nub between your legs, rough fingertips circling your clit relentlessly until your panting against his mouth. He greedily swallows your squeal when you cum around him, cunt forming a tight and unforgiving blissful prison around his cock as you drench him and his fingers.

He moans with you, hips stuttering and inconsistent as your orgasm triggers his. He holds your face against his, his other hand clutching your hip as he holds you still, not letting you run away from him even if you try as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls white.

It’s quiet in the room as you both come down from your high, just the sounds of panting as you both try to catch your breath. He should pull out. Anyone could just walk in at any moment and catch you, but he grits his teeth at the thought of having to move away from you. He’d die happily inside you if he could. So, he takes another moment, letting himself revel in the feel of your still pulsing walls around his length as he lays his forehead against yours.

“You’re goin’ to keep being my good girl, right?” He says softly into the space between you. “Stay out of trouble?”

And despite the exhausted look on your face, when your eyes meet his, all he sees is that strong-willed defiance.

A pretty problem indeed.

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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sillystringpasta · 4 months ago

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i would kill to see a Home Alone adjacent AU with tim drake. teeny tiny timmy drake, when jason is still robin.

the premise is this:

tim's still feral, still stalks the streets at night, and hasn't yet learned physical combat. but he has unlimited time, and the bats for neighbours, so he has mechanical knowhow already by sheer want of... idk, getting closer to the wayne family through buisiness? being a good heir to drake industry's RnD? being a freak?

he also has Jack Drake's shotgun at home, and a lot of money.

the drake parents bring something home from their most recent archaeological dig. this thing is maybe alien, maybe tech, maybe magic. they don't know that, but they do know it's old, so they add it to their manor's collection.

and then they, canon typically, leave.

so tim has this artefact in his manor's vault, and he studies it because his parents(!) brought it home(!!!). he doesn't figure it out at the start, and he quickly gets distracted, because some crooks come for it.

here is the story my brain has cooked so far:

it starts with the local mob groups' lowest goons who can be trusted not the drop The Artefact. maybe falcone?

tim calls the police on them as they break in, and lists the address as the drakes, the rich ones, so the cops actually help.

tim doesn't know why mobster goons just tried to break in, but he does know that the batman is his neighbour. tim knows that he has some sort of security system from the wayne manor galas (he has, after all, not managed to take pictures of where the batmobile is after investigating the garage).

so tim comes to the totally rational conclusion that he needs to trick out the manor. but, like, subtly, so his parents don't get mad when they come back.

as he's making the traps, for fun mostly, serious goons from falcone, and some guys from penguin show up. they fight each other, and tim, again, calls the cops. they take the unconcious (and shot) goons off the front lawn, and ask tim about being Home Alone.

after some gaslighting, tim builds serious traps.

and thank god he does, because black mask goons show up. and a bm enforcer. ruh-roh. they somehow get taken out by the traps, and tim chugs so much coffee making new ones that he blacks out and can't remember some of the new traps he makes (hello chekov! we've already seen you here :).

then comes the riddler himself, having heard about the puzzle traps, and wanting to just, y'know, play a game. after finding out it's a kid stepping on his toes, he's gonna go, but then tim offers to buy some trap components from the riddler. a lucrative allience is established.

riddler goes to try and find out what the other bosses are trying to steal. catwoman catches wind of the investigation from his questioning; that people are struggling to steal a valuable item from a rich mansion. (tim also learns this is about The Artefact from the riddler, when he drops off some... materials.)

catwoman interrupts a theft attempt from... idk, deadshot, or deathstroke, hired (by luthor?) to get the Artefact. after getting beat up by tim, both are horrified by tim's living situation, ironically the mercenary's more than catwoman because they are Dads tm.

so now tim has two gotham rogue's and a mercenary on his side, who help make more traps (and subtly make them lethal) and give him some shooting lessons with his dad's gun. which is good, because the moment they leave, the court of owls show up, having gotten word from the goons to the social elite about the drake family's new Artefact.

the talon's don't die from the new lethal traps, but they do get their zombie selves stuck in them. the league of assassins show up. the talons were given orders to not be seen. being unseen is standard LoA operating procedure. they kill each other unitl the only one left is a young pru. (from canon red robin's brucequest, if you don't remember her.)

the bodies are dumped outside, into the yard, by being trebucheted off a balcony. poison ivy turns around and leaves without even getting started. she takes the bodies with her. whatever is pumped into the talon's is great ferilizer, and the basic nitrogen in blood is pretty good too.

things escalate more.

the Artefact begins to glow in a lonely vault. a heavy hitter shows up, and so does Klarion, attracted to the chaos. they fight. batman is distracted from this by investigating what is happening in the lower levels of the gangs, and why the riddler is smuggling so much weird, random shit. no seriously, why is he smuggling silly string??? use it to start inefficiant fires? (fun fact, ss is highly flammable.) and the industrial amounts of glitter??? Riddle me this, Batman, who is the world's largest consumer of glitter?

miraculously, drake manor is undamaged by the fight.

tim wasn't at the manor that night, he was stalking batman again. he will never know that this happened either.

but pru was there, deciding if she should stay or return to the league. this makes her choose to stay. tim gets a sister, and he doesn't even have to date her first!

pru also helps tim get ready for school the next morning, and is at the manor during the rest of the day, scoping out the interior.

alfred pennyworth does notice the lightshow, and he goes over to talk to the neighbours himself that morning, because really, he can handle some noise disturbances, he handled young master bruce after all.

he knocks on the door.

the riddler is inside, setting up silly string streamers and glitter with a few other rogues, goons, mercenaries, a baby assassin, and some small children of deadshot/deathstroke.

it's tim's birthday.

alfred considers this situation very seriously, and decides to bring master jason Robin over, to moniter the situation (relax and socialize with other kids).

tim comes home to a surprise party, from people who are concerned about him, and care for him.

it's all he's ever wanted.

(the wish granting Artefact dissolves into shimmery dust.)

the party goes smashingly. it's great. there's a massive cake, and no clowns jump out of it.

tim has spent the last month being harassed by superpowered and unpowered crooks. he goes to another room to cry from happiness, when the distinctive sound of one of his traps goes off. it's not one he remembers making. he hears an adult man swearing.

he gets his dad's gun.

a large figure bursts into the party. tim reacts before anyone else.

he shoots.

it's batman.

tim shoots his shotgun at batman, who broke in thinking alfred had been abducted and used to sign jason out of school.

catwoman catches it on video.

tim is mortified. so is batman. everyone else thinks it's the best party ever.

the party continues. tim is presented with several adoption offers. he cries again, and says yes to all of them.

tim has a vigilante's happily ever after.

#dc comics #my writing #writing prompt #writing #dc #dcu #batman #tim drake #red robin

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captainuranium543 · 5 months ago

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Fairy tail headcannon a nobody wanted at all😊

- most of the dragon slayers+erza eat bugs regularly and it's gross AF to everyone

-Natsu because he grew up in the woods and they were like the number one abundant source of food, same for Wendy but she stopped for a while because Carla told her it was nasty (as soon as she joined the fairy tail guild she reverted so incredibly fast)

-gajeel pretends to thinks it's gross but secretly he really likes the taste he just doesn't wanna have that in common with natsu

- erza and Erik because in the evil slave tower where everyone was starving if you found a bug you ate it before anyone else could grab it from you.

- sting did not do that growing up but started when natsu told him it was good, he does not agree but does it anyway so natsu thinks he's cool

- rogue only tried it a couple times because frosch wanted to try it to be more like a frog and rogue is nothing if not supportive

- laxus grew up normal and thinks all of them are disgusting

- Lucy has the WORST financial skills. Legit they are awful. Everyone thinks she's always broke cuz of the tpd (team property damage) constantly making them lose their reward to repair bills but (while that is a factor) when Lucy sees smth cute that would look great in her apartment she just cannot help herself. Lucy will be so careful trying to save her money then she'll see a new set of stationary and goes "haha rent what rent"

- the hand me down game at fairy tail was fucking insane when they where kids. For levy and lisanna basically everything they owned had been passed down like 6 times already

- that red shirt natsu wore in the flashbacks? Before him it was erza's, and before her it was canas, and before her it was laxus.

- gray wears almost exclusively white jackets because jackets are expensive and if he loses them he would rather they be easy to spot so he can find them again rather then have to buy a new one

- sometimes people will invite erza places for the scary dog privilege when they dont want to be bothered by strangers. Erza has no idea thats the reason she just thought people really liked walking with her through rough parts of town in the middle of the night.

- Carla and lilly have insane beef, for no damn reason. Like both of them are fairly polite so neither will say it openly but every conversation between the two is the most passive aggressive petty insult battle you could imagine

- freed, levy, Lucy and later jellal have a book club where they all meet up and talk about whatever they're reading and play Scrabble and talk a lot of shit about their annoying ass friends.

- happy sometimes comes but he is under no circumstances allowed to bring natsu(he knows what he did)

- when erza met seigrain/jellal in the magic counsel she first tried to attack him, when that proved to be a bad idea she later started specifically destroying stuff under his jurisdiction to make sure he had to deal with as much paperwork as possible

- for her modelling, Mira used to use a very light spray of holy water to remove body hair because it burns it off💀

- wendy romeo and chelia are actually best friends like they are constantly hanging out together just to go do stuff

- erza and Erik hate each other for no reason at all. Like over that year that she worked with crime sorciere they where ALWAYS BEEFING. Every time they were near each other erza was thinking insults she knew he could hear and Erik was fighting for his life not to strangle her to death.

When erza became sclass she used to sit on the 5th step of the stairs because Mira wasn't allowed on those stairs yet and it really pissed her off. She was like, just barely out of reach, so Mira would stand at the bottom the stairs yelling death threats at her and erza would be like "whattt I'm not doing anything I don't even know what your talking about in literally just sitting what are you so mad about"

- when Warren invented cellphones, despite all of them looking like modern smartphones, freed somehow managed to get one that looked exactly like a Blackberry and refuses to get a different one

- Mira used to cut her siblings hair and because she didn't know any good haircuts yet her 2 options where 1- bald or 2- bowl cut. Hence lisannas horrifying cut as a child

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #mirajane strauss #lisanna strauss #erza scarlet #erik/cobra #yappin #levy mcgarden #gajeel redfox #laxus dreyar #freed justine #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #wendy marvell #headcannons

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talesofesther · 6 months ago

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what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

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#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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towriteloveontheirarms · 1 year ago

Text

Let them hear (Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader)

synopsis: Daemon had never shied away from teasing you in public. No matter the setting. Today you feel up for revenge.

warnings: PWP, smut, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, afab reader

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ajthefujoshi @schniiipsel

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: @bl4ckph0enix, @happilyhertale and I came up with the idea of sucking Daemon off during a council meeting on discord and we decided to each write a story for it to see what comes out of it with each of us. You two are so sick for this idea and I love you so much for it!❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

When a match had been made between you and the rogue prince, the romance between the two of you burned bright and very passionate. He was rarely seen without you by his side and the other way around as well. You always hung onto his arm, holding him tight to your body as you walked and talked. Hanging onto every single word that left his beautiful lips. Those lips that you never ever wished to leave yours when you are kissing in your chambers at night. Yet every night was followed by a morning in which your ways would need to part for at least a couple of hours so you could attend the important matters that your station postulated. All of it left little time for the two of you to spend together. Less than you would have wished for at least. In truth you still took most of the day for yourselves and when you fell asleep at night you would never have to wait to crawl into each other’s tight embrace. In truth all the time in the world spent together could not be enough for the two of you.

Though there was a time during those duties that did allow you to spend some time near each other. The small council meetings were boring as anything, making them very hard to listen too already. However when your aforementioned husband dedicated most of his time to additionally tease you under the table, staying focused got so much more harder. All that you could pay attention to was the way his large, rough hand ran over the inside of your thighs, teasing the seam of your small cloths. Even going as far as to push his fingers inside of you. Slowly pumping them in and out as he stretches you out. Without fail it would get you worked up and flustered every single time. Pulling him to the next free, hidden enough space to ride him into oblivion.

You play along with his games willingly like the good, little wife he knows you to be and if it is just for the knowing and unamused looks Otto Hightower shoots at the two of you. He was just a cunt. You understood why your husband lived to irritate the man. Until one day, Daemon gets what was coming for him the second he started this game.

Once more his hand finds his hand under your skirts, but this time instead of flushing and lowering your head, you catch his wrist and push it away. A challenging look in your eyes as his confused lilac ones meet yours. Using the moment of the other men being distracted with their conversation about only the gods know what, you swiftly slide down the chair to your knees and hide away under the table, between his legs.

“What do you think you are doing?” He bows down to whisper to you, but you only hush him with a finger to your lips and a mischievous smirk, telling him to lean back again.

With that action alone the dynamic between you changed. You could see in his barely contained face you are in charge now. A warm feeling spreads deep in your chest at the look of his reddened cheeks. Immediately you put that changed dynamic to good use, by feathering touches all over his thighs. Though he takes most of that foreplay off your hands as the predicament you are in makes him incredibly hard already. So you don´t waste any more time, but free his hardened length, lick the palm of your hand and pump him a couple of times. Across the table Otto Hightower was eyeing Daemon critically already. Proving once more, that even if no one else is paying attention, he is.

Watching Daemon´s head fall against the back of the chair and his lips parting to make way for his staggering breaths. Settling your hand at the base of his cock, you place a few kisses to his tip until you hear a tiny whimper from above. Biting back a smile you finally take him into your mouth. Only a little at first and then more and more with every time you moved your head down. Setting an almost torturingly slow pace, you add a rhythm to your head bobbing, that has your husbands hips meeting your lips. Your mouth feels so good around him. So warm and wet, your cunt is still better, but this is as close to heaven as he can get. Your breathing grows ragged now as well, wishing for nothing more than to be alone with Daemon in this moments. You get pulled from your thoughts by Daemons cock hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best not to make any gagging sounds to give you away you swallow heavily, barely managing to keep yourself together. Daemon on the other hand is a lot more careless. Groaning quietly as he pleases and as if you two where the only two people in the room. Letting him pop out of your mouth for a moment to calm your breathing, your hands keep stroking his length. One at the base, playing with his stones and the other teasing the tip. The conversation around you begins to quieten down as the meeting wraps up, meaning you needed to be even more careful.

“Shh. You need to be quiet or they will hear.” You whisper up at Daemon.

“So, let them.” He murmurs his answer back at you. Almost a low growl really. He knows it sends a shock of desire through your body whenever he does. He sounds so primal, you can´t help it and so your lips wrap around his cock again. His fingers thread into your hair, a dull pain driving through your skull as he pulls at the tresses. You hold back another whimper, yet his sounds of pleasure become more obvious by the second. Pulling a look or two towards him, but none of the council members say anything. They know better than to cross the rogue prince.

Daemon pulls you in closer by your hair, attempting to get back his control over you, but you pull away your head once more. Lightly slapping his inner thigh a couple of times. You both know it doesn´t hurt him, but it gets your point across. You were the one in control, at least for now.

Coming up from your hiding place again you sit back down just in time to grab his cock again in your hand to ward off his disappointed gaze and for the meeting to wrap up. One after another the lords at the big table say there farewells Until it is only the two of you, the hand and Viserys left.

“Are you not going to join us?” Your husbands older brother asks, none the wiser to the situation mere inches away from you.

“We will be with you soon, brother. My dear lady wife and I have something important to discuss first.” Daemon gives you a stern look. Signaling that your time in charge was coming to a close.

The king nods and then pulls lord Hightower with him, but not before he can make one of his remarks.

“I am sure you and your wife have pressing matters to discuss. I do hope everything is fine between the two of you. It would be a shame to see such a young marriage fail so soon.”

“I thank you for your concern, your lordship. Though I can assure you that nothing of the sort will be happening any time soon.” You mime the ever dutiful wife. Glad to see the two men leave, letting the heavy door fall close with a thud as they resume their conversation.

Once you are all alone in the big council room, Daemon is quick to bend you over the table. Opening his trousers and pulling them down along with his small clothes. Then he bunches your skirts around your hips. Almost ripping your small clothes in the process of getting them out of the way. A desperate whimper leaves your lips as he delivers a few generous spanks to your behind.

“You are such a naughty girl.” He growls into your ear. “Cannot even keep your fingers off me for a whole council meeting, can you? You are that needy?”

“I just did what you always do to me.” Your voice is weak from the force behind the impact of his rough hands against your jiggling flesh.

“Ah, that´s how it is. I am sure you can handle the consequences for such a behavior too then.” Daemon delivers another set of slaps to the reddened skin of your ass. Grabbing your hips in a bruising grip, he enters your already dripping core in one swift push. The movement so slow, that you can feel every inch dragging against your walls as he enters you. When he bottoms out, his large frame presses you into the edge of the table. The pain of the edge of the hard wood and the stretch of your inner walls mixing with the arousal of the moment, swirling in the depths of your stomach to send a fire of need through your veins and setting every nerve ending alight with it.

“Daemon!” You cry out, wanting him to start moving already. The attempt to move your hips against his yourself is futile as your body is entirely trapped in its position.

“Not my name, love. You know how to address me if you want something.” You can practically hear the smug smirk in his voice.

“My king, please. I need you to fuck me.” Your breathy plea reaches his ears.

“Anything my queen wishes.” Daemon barely finishes the sentence before he sets a fast paced rhythm with his thrusts. His hips rolling perfectly to create a slapping sound every time your skin meets. One of your husbands hands loosens from your hips and wanders up to the middle of your back to push you onto the table further, securing you on place even more as he leans over you. This simple action alone elicits the most desperate moans from your lungs. His breath fans over your ear as he presses hot, wet kisses to your skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside of me.” Leaning your upper body up, you stretch your neck back, overcome by the desire to feel his lips on yours. Knowing what you want, Daemon immediately leans down to give you what you need. His warm lips take yours in a confident, almost aggressive touch, that makes your chest glow with a familiar warmth. Pulling yet a louder moan from you as one of his hand grab at your breasts over your dress. Leaning up further, your tongue meets his in a dance for dominance.

Right in that moment you feel a gust of air hit your chest. Daemon had pulled down and almost ripped the front of your dress. His hands now squeezing and lightly slapping your tits, before parting from the kiss and pushing you down with the same hand to the back once more. The pace with which he thrusts into you becomes faster and sloppier. You know he is close and you are too. Sneaking one of your hands down to rub tight circles into your pearl, you make sure to bring yourself there the rest of the way. The edge of your climax rapidly comes closer under his and your own ministrations. Flicking at your sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three more times, your velvety walls start to flutter around Daemon's cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Whole body shaking from the pleasurable contractions, loud and uncontrollable moans forcing their way out of your lungs, you pull your husband over the cliff with you.

His hips stutter in their fast thrusts, the swiftness of their rolling motion becoming rougher until he buried himself as deep inside of you as he possibly can. The tip of his length is kissing your cervix as he spills his hot seed directly into your womb with one last groan of your name. It takes a while to recover from that intense encounter.

After you have finally calmed your breaths and fixed your clothing, you give your husband the most admiring look he has ever seen on any person.

"Do you believe anyone suspected anything? Aside from the hand?" You ask as you wrap your arms around Daemon's middle and look up at him. Waiting for another one of his kisses.

He gives in almost instantly. Pressing his lips to yours. This kiss is much more languid and loving compared to the last one, which was pure lust and passion.

"I am sure they did. Yet again a dragon does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep." He murmurs against your slightly swollen lips. Laying an arm around you, to lead you out of the room.

#prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon targaryen #the rogue prince #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon x reader #prince daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader

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