#static city universe

[piney-45]

i spent so much time trying to find the charlie to my nick

when i should have been looking for the francis to my aled

[starryoak]

One thing I was thinking about is how in the DC Animated Universe, Wally West is heavily implied to have been the first Flash, with Barry Allen having no powers and the Flash having gotten his powers in a similar way to him, but we also see a Kid Flash costume as a cameo in “Flash and Substance”

One thing I was considering to reconcile this cameo that raises questions in an interesting way; Wally was the Kid Flash, he just wasn’t a sidekick. He was a teen superhero, essentially the equivalent to Spider-Man that the DC universe doesn’t really have.

He just eventually grew out of the name and costume and reinvented himself, and to me it feels like it would be an interesting thing to connect with how the citizens of Central City seem to love Flash so much and spend so much time with him; of course they love him! They’ve seen him grow up and into himself as a hero! It also gives his younger self a time to shine in universe, and an interesting story about being a teenage superhero that Static Shock and Batman Beyond also explored, though in different contexts. Plus, who doesn’t fucking love Wally and want more of him?

[podcaststatic]

what . . .

what is that . . . ?

[ghoulphile]

wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…” 

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

[astrcmoni]

ᯓ☆ star’s midnight caller ☆ᯓ

MASTERLIST

☆ series masterpost: I II III

pairing: billie eilish x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut(kinda)

synopsis: in the quiet of the night, you answer a call that pulls you into a world of mystery and intrigue. what starts as a simple conversation with a stranger turns into a connection you never expected, leaving you craving more with each ring.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: light cussing here and there

authors note: let me know what you guys think, i really liked writing this and i want to make a part two. also there’s no smut in this part but the concept of the hotline is sexual (idk if that made sense) anyways imma stop rambling byeee ☆

phone call style story — reader is in bold italics, billie is in blue italics.

————

wednesday 12:43 am — incoming call from +1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC)

“thanks so much, babygirl,” richard says from the other side of the phone, his voice soft, tinged with something like gratitude. “you always know what i need.”

richard is one of your regulars, calling at least twice a week. he likes to imagine that you’re his long-lost girlfriend, reaching out from some parallel universe. you let him ramble, your voice smooth and coaxing, playing into his fantasy like a script you know by heart. a light laugh here, a soft hum there, the occasional breathy moan when it fits the moment.

“anytime, boo,” you reply, fingers already grazing the disconnect button. “take care of yourself, okay?”

the line clicks off, leaving a brief silence that feels heavier than it should. you exhale, stretching your arms above your head as you try to shake off the remnants of his voice. just another call. just another night.

soft light spills through the corners of your room, golden and warm against the pale lavender of your walls. the curtains billow lazily, carried by a breeze that whispers through the cracked window. outside, the city hums—a distant siren wailing, cars rolling down the street below, someone leaning on their horn too long, too loud.

at your desk, you lean forward, catching your reflection in the mirror perched precariously against a stack of books. sticky lip gloss catches the lamplight, glinting like glass. your lashes look decent—lifted enough to remind you of your own femininity. normally, you wouldn’t bother. no one can see you, after all. but it helps, this small ritual. it’s armor in a way, a mask you slip behind before stepping into this role.

“alright,” you mutter, rolling your neck to release the tension settling in your shoulders. “one more call and i’m done.”

the surface beneath your elbows is cluttered—textbooks splayed open, scribbled lab reports fighting for space with overdue bills. it’s not glamorous, but it pays. and it’s enough, for now.

you adjust your headset, letting the padded cups press comfortably against your ears, and clear your throat. the practiced warmth creeps back into your voice as the phone chimes again, flashing another number across the screen.

wednesday 12:49 am — incoming call from +1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, california)

“hello, and thank you for calling the pulse network. this is star speaking.” your voice drops an octave, soft and inviting, the words sliding out like honey. “who do i have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

there’s a pause on the other end—static filling the silence like a breath held too long. then, a voice cuts through, low, smooth, and distinctly feminine.

“uh…hi?” she sounds hesitant, her voice fraying at the edges like she’s second-guessing herself. “is this…is this a-uh…hotline for…you know?”

your brows knit for a moment before relaxing. most callers know exactly what they want, their voices heavy with intent. but her hesitation feels different. delicate, almost.

“that depends,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone light and playful. “what are you looking for, my love?”

she exhales sharply, and you can hear the faint sound of movement—like she’s pacing, the rhythm of her footsteps soft and uneven.

“honestly?” she says after a beat, her voice quieter now. “i don’t even know why i called. jus’ bored, i guess. curious. didn’t think this would even work.”

a smile tugs at your lips, though you bite it back. calls like these are rare, but you don’t mind them. there’s something refreshing about the uncertainty, the lack of pretense.

“well,” you murmur, letting your voice wrap around the words like a velvet ribbon, “we’re here now. go ahead, tell me whatever’s on your mind. no pressure.”

there’s a pause, long enough that you glance at the timer on the screen, wondering if she’s about to hang up. but then she sighs again, the sound softer this time, like she’s giving in.

“is it weird that i’m calling?” she asks, her voice dipping into the quiet like it’s unsure of its place.

“no judgment here, love. everyone has their reasons.” your response is soft, easy, laced with practiced charm. but something about her feels different.

“i don’t even know mine.”

the line falls into silence again, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of her breathing—steady, almost meditative. it’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s waiting for you to fill it, but instead, you let it linger, listening.

“what’s your name?”

you blink, caught off guard. most callers don’t ask that unless it’s part of the fantasy they’re crafting. most don’t care to know.

“well, what do you want it to be?” you counter, your voice tipping into something playful.

she laughs softly, the sound low and throaty, curling through the line like smoke. “no, that’s not what i asked. i wanna know your name.”

there’s a pause as you weigh her words, the sincerity behind them.

“star,” you say finally, keeping it professional, your tone steady. “you can call me star.”

“what’s your real name?”

her question lands heavier than it should. it’s not forceful, not even intrusive. just curious. like she’s asking for a story rather than a fact.

you hesitate, fingers tracing the edge of your desk absentmindedly. something about her voice makes you want to give in, but you push the temptation aside, slipping easily into deflection.

“you know, most people don’t ask me that,” you murmur. “they usually want to know what i look like, what i’m wearing. things like that.”

“guess i’m not most people, then.”

“come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little curious?”

she chuckles, warm and low, the kind of laugh that sticks in your chest. “okay, i’ll bite. what are you wearing, star?”

you smirk, leaning back in your chair as the city hums faintly through the open window.

“blue and black pajamas” you reply, your tone light. “lace trim. very cute, if i do say so myself.”

“where’d you get it?”

“some victoria’s secret around my city. they were having a sale.”

“cute.” her voice dips, carrying a hint of a smile. “now, back to my question.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no edge to it. she’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

“you’re just gonna have to call me star. can’t give you my name. not tonight, sorry sweetheart.”

“no, it’s okay.” she pauses, then repeats it, like she’s trying it on. “well, star.” there’s something deliberate about the way she says it, slow and careful, testing its weight. “i’m billie.”

her name sits soft and sure in the air, settling between you like it belongs.

“you seem like a billie.”

“do i?”

“mhm,” you hum, leaning forward against the desk. “so, billie. what do you want to talk about?”

“hmm.” she draws the sound out thoughtfully, the silence stretching just long enough to make you wonder if she’ll answer. “why do you do this?”

the question hits you in a way you don’t expect, cutting through the usual rhythm of calls. most people don’t ask—don’t even think to ask.

you consider lying, giving her something easy, but the weight of her question lingers, tugging at the edges of your honesty.

“it pays the bills,” you admit finally, your voice soft. “and it’s not as bad as people think. i meet some…very…interesting people.”

“like me?”

the corner of your mouth quirks up, her words pulling at something playful in you.

“you tell me. are you interesting?”

“guess that depends.” she pauses, her voice curling with quiet amusement. “you think i’m interesting so far?”

“so far? i’ll give you a solid maybe.”

her laughter spills through the line, warm and unexpected, and it lingers in your room long after it fades.

“oh really? how long have you been doing this?”

“for about…” you pause, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like the answer might be scrawled there. “for about a little over a year now.”

“damn. that’s a long ass time.”

you chuckle, the sound warm and easy. “it is, isn’t it? i don’t know, i don’t mind it though. all i do is answer the phone. sometimes i do schoolwork, cook—small things like that. not like i necessarily have to be fully present for it, as long as i’m paying attention, you know?”

“you’re in school? just exactly how old are you?”

“wait—before we continue, you’re aware it’s a dollar seventy-five per minute, right?”

“uhh, i wasn’t, but i don’t mind it.”

“ooh, so you’re rich then?”

she laughs, a low, honeyed sound that settles in your chest. “i wouldn’t say that. i’d say i’m… comfortable.”

“only rich people say they’re comfortable. but to answer your question, i’m twenty, in my junior year. babe, you?”

“okay, not bad. i’m twenty-three. though i did think you were much older.”

you snort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “not bad? we’re practically the same age.”

“mm, i got about three years on you, so… no,” she laughs, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “what are you majoring in?”

“criminology. mainly forensics and things like that.”

“that’s so fucking cool. so you’re like those people on tv who examine bodies and shit?”

“yeah, but doing it in real life is way different than it looks on tv.” you close your eyes, the memory of your first dissection flashing briefly. “especially lab work. but you get used to it after a while.”

“still, that’s badass. you must be super smart.”

the compliment catches you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. “i guess you could say that,” you mutter, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.

the conversation flows easier after that, like water finding its way downhill. you don’t even realize when you’ve moved to your bed, your headset cast aside as her voice fills your room through the speaker.

she asks you everything—your favorite movies, the hobbies that keep you up at night, the kind of music that makes your soul hum. the questions are simple but intimate, slipping past your usual defenses like she’s known you for years.

and you answer her. honestly, without hesitation. there’s something about her voice, warm and unhurried, that pulls the truth out of you.

you find yourself smiling, more than you have in days, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as you lean into the sound of her. it feels oddly intimate—like a late-night call with someone who’s already carved out a space in your life.

“so,” she asks after a lull, her voice soft but curious, “what’s your favorite movie?”

you grin, closing your eyes as you let the answer roll off your tongue. “pulp fiction. it’s a classic, don’t judge me.”

“no judgment. i respect it. but you gotta admit, it’s a little basic.”

“oh, and you’re not basic? let me guess—you’re gonna say something artsy like ‘a clockwork orange’ or whatever.”

“wrong. mine’s ‘the shining.’”

“oh, so you’re a horror girl. noted.”

she laughs, the sound warm and easy, and you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. not yet. not with her voice lingering in your room like this.

“what about you?” you murmur, breaking the soft rhythm of silence that had settled between you.

“hm? what about me?” her voice lilts, curious but guarded.

“what do you do? like for work?”

there’s a pause, long enough that you wonder if she’s going to sidestep the question entirely. but then she exhales, the sound quiet, like she’s carefully letting something go.

“i’m a musician,” she says finally, her words tentative, like they might break if handled too roughly. “or i guess i was… i teach music now.”

her admission catches you off guard, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through the connection. but you don’t press her, sensing that whatever she’s offering is enough for now. instead, you let the conversation drift, carried by the quiet ebb and flow of her voice.

the hours blur like watercolors, the world outside fading until there’s only her.

eventually, her tone softens, the edges of her words rounding with sleep. “it’s getting late. i should let you go,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

you glance at the alarm clock on the wall, the soft red digits blinking 3:35 a.m. back at you. exhaustion tugs at you, but the thought of ending the call feels heavier than it should.

“but…” her hesitation pulls you back to her. “can i call you again? i had a really good time.”

your heart stumbles over itself, a small hitch in your chest. “yeah, of course you can.” your voice dips into something softer, something closer to truth. “i had a good time too.”

“great. goodnight, star.” there’s a smile in her voice, light and unguarded, and it lingers in the air even after she’s gone.

“goodnight, billie.”

the line goes quiet, and for a moment, you sit there, the warmth of her voice still brushing against you like an afterglow.

you slip off your bed, padding into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. the cool water shocks your skin, but it doesn’t chase away the heat curling low in your stomach.

when you return to your room, the lamp clicks off with a soft snap, plunging the space into shadows broken only by the shifting colors of your tv. you slide under the covers, the faint hum of a late-night rerun filling the silence. the images blur on the screen, but all you can think about is her voice, the way it clung to the edges of the night, soft and sure.

a ding pulls you from your thoughts. your phone glows faintly on the nightstand, and you reach for it, the sudden brightness making you blink.

new transactions — 4:03 a.m.

+1 (254) 783-0184 (dallas, TX) - $26.25

+1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC) - $43.75

+1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, CA) - $315.62

you smile, the corners of your lips twitching up involuntarily. it’s nothing unusual, but tonight it feels different, lighter somehow. you turn the screen off and set the phone back down, a quiet sense of contentment settling over you.

for the first time in a long time, you find yourself looking forward to your next call.

inspired by @whore-era

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none, slight mention of mythological creature abuse, Jason and reader begin to bond

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: second part to my first ever fic! I was happy so many of you enjoyed it, please let me know if you'd like a third part <3

As you walked around the cave, all you could do was admire the advanced technology surrounding you. You were craning your head up to get a better view of the animatronic T-Rex, a cup of tea in your hand. It was kindly offered to you by what you could only assume to be Batman’s butler, Alfred. The old man had kind eyes and also gave you a slice of pecan pie, which you really couldn’t refuse, especially after everyone in the room heard your stomach grumbling.

“So, tell me,” you started to say, swishing the amber liquid in your cup, “how can we find a way to get me and my dragons back home if we don’t know who opened the portal in the first place and where it was activated?”

Batman let out a contemplative hum, his back turned to you. He was sitting at the console typing away. “We need to check all of the security cameras in the city and also take a look at the air’s static and electromagnetic radiations that have possibly interfered with the electronic devices in Gotham”

The others were in the room as well, each one of them with their brows furrowed, having clearly switched to ‘professional’ mode, as you liked to call it.

With their domino masks and helmets gone, you could see how the three young men – Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin – starkly resembled Batman. You didn’t know why they decided to reveal their identities. Thinking it over, you realised they actually didn’t since you couldn’t recognise them and they hadn’t given you their real names. It probably figured that since you came from another universe altogether, you’d pose no threat to their identity.

Your gaze lingered on Red Hood’s face. He had a rugged yet defined look to him that didn’t let your eyes glance away. Be it the greenish eyes, the white streak on is hair or the scar on his neck, but you couldn’t look away. You must’ve been staring pretty intensely since he lowered his gaze onto yours, a slight blush creeping up his neck and covering his ears.

You quickly looked away, your own face heating up in embarrassment at being caught.

Jason cleared his throat, trying his best not to let a chuckle escape him at your flustered reaction.

Cass raised a brow at you two, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“We should go out and stop the dragons before they cause even more damage,” quipped Dick all of a sudden, quickly rising to his feet with newfound energy.

You clasped your hands together, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! We should-”

Roarrr

Your brows furrowed at the noise. It clearly came from the batcave, but that wasn’t a voice you recognised at all.

You looked at the others with a puzzled expression. They all seemed rather calm and even amused by the sound.

“This way, Goliath, please, use your legs for once in your life-”

You turned to where Robin’s voice came and your expression lit up upon seeing the cutest and fluffiest red dragon just mere meters from you.

“Aww who’s this now?” you asked as you approached the creature.

Robin pushed the dragon towards you to no avail and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

“He’s- Goliath-” he explained between pushes, clearly out of breath.

The dragon eyed you warily.

You smiled softly at him, extending a hand for him to sniff, “He can probably smell the other dragons on me,” you explained as you saw his ears perk up upon smelling your skin.

He gave you a look of approval and you began stroking his red fur. It was far softer than you had anticipated and it had a weird feeling to it. You pulled your hand back, examining it.

You grimaced as you saw your entire hand covered in a shiny, slippery substance.

“Why is he covered in oil?”

Robin gave you a pleading look for half a second, before regaining his usual stoic composure.

“He’s been itching a lot for the past few weeks and we figured that-…uhm…the best way to treat him was to put an ointment on his body,” he explained, your wild out gaze on his making him freak out internally that he somehow messed up.

“Poor Goliath,” you cooed at the dragon, scratching his chin. You were grateful that you couldn’t bring Obsidian in the cave with you or he would have thrown a jealous fit. You continued your ministrations as you gave him a once over. His skin was reddened because of the itch and the ointment and he continued to scratch his ears.

“I think he may have a skin infection,” you diagnosed, cleaning your hands with a tissue Robin gave you. “If I were at the sanctuary, I would make him a sage compress and given him a two-week treatment.”

You sighed in contemplation, wondering what to do.

Robin came over to you, a map in his hands, “Gotham’s botanical park is a few blocks away from here. Nobody’s there during the night so maybe we could break in and get the ingredients you need.”

You raised your brows at him, amused by the fact that a vigilante would actually commit a break in and theft.

Sounds of agreement followed his proposition and you could only nod along.

“We can drop by and get the ingredients while we search for the other dragons,” suggested Nightwing, looking over at you. You nodded again.

“Great then,” he said, clapping his hands once, “We need to separate so we can cover more ground,”

Immediately hands flew up and shouts were exchanged about who was going to team up with who.

“I wanna go with the bat!” snickered Spoiler, “I can’t wait to see him try to catch a dragon”

Batman still had his back turned, but was definitely listening to the conversation because his shoulders stiffened.

“No, I must go with Batman, I’m Robin after all-”

“You wouldn’t even tease him like I would!”

The bickering stopped as everyone’s attention snapped onto Orphan, who was signing something.

“What did she say?” you asked, not being able to understand her and honestly just having learned a few signs for one of your deaf dragons, nothing more.

Nighwing beamed, “She said that you and Hood over here should team up and search for both the dragons and the herbs together”

Oh.

You and Red Hood both looked at each other and you suddenly registered what was bound to happen.

You and this incredibly attractive stranger on Obsidian’s back.

Oh fuck.

You laughed nervously and he seemed to mimic you.

“Uhm, alright then,” you squeaked out, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, even Batman’s.

“Off you go, then, shoo,” Nightwing escorted you to the exit of the batcave, earning more than a few grumbled cusses from Red Hood – or should you just call him Hood?

You hardly managed to choke out a “goodbye” before the door closed centimetres from your face.

“What a dickhead,” said the vigilante next to you, this time with only his domino mask on, “I apologise on his behalf- he doesn’t know when to shut up,” he says with an irritated groan.

You chuckle at that, reassuring him. As you approached your dragon, you glanced up at him once more, taking in how his sharp features contrasted greatly with the soft curls of his black hair.

The moonlight gave him a sort of vampiresque look and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to…glow? It seemed as if his blueish-greenish eyes did a complete 180 and became this neon green colour.

You narrowed your eyes at that, continuing to walk.

Meanwhile, Jason side eyed you the entire walk back to Obsidian.

His mind wandered as he tried to come up with possible explanations about this whole situation. Who were you and where did you even come from. He wasn’t buying the whole “Oh, I come from Earth!” thing and neither were his brothers. Maybe there was a possibility that you truly came from a parallel universe were apparently dragons existed, but then why hadn’t they had at least one encounter with these anomalies before?

He thought back to Superman and Krypton. Although it probably wasn’t the exactly same thing, he guessed that if Bruce was allies and friends (although he’d never admit it) with Clark, then anything was possible.

He also found you really pretty and not alien-looking at all, but that’s beside the point.

His eyes wandered back to the lasso on your utility belt. He had sworn that when it was up in the air, swinging above your head in loose circles it looked exactly like Wonder Woman’s.

He had to ask you about that later. For now, he could only grief his bike even further as he took a good look at the dragon in front of him that looked like it wanted to tear his head off.

He could only reciprocate the glare as your back was turned to both of them, fishing out your list of ingredients that were needed to make the compress.

“Ok, so” you started, oblivious to the death stare contest between Jason and the dragon, “are you ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience?”

Jason looked at your excited expression and gulped nervously when your dragon huffed begrudgingly, clearly not wanting to let him on.

“You sure about me getting on this thing?” Those were fighting words for the dragon, who shrieked offended at being called a thing.

You tried to not worsen things further, putting your palm out in dissuasion, smiling nervously.

“He can understand your every word, Hood” you explained, your nervous and apologetic tone prompting Jason to see in the corner of his eye how the black dragon huffed in agreement, the smoke coming out of his nostrils making him wince.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize”

You waved him off with a smile, “It’s all good. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Jason took a second to think to himself – have I ever rode a horse before? - . He didn’t know if he had no memory of doing so from all the concussions he’s had this year alone or because your gaze was making him slightly nervous. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

“No,” was all he manged to blurt out, really not wanting to get on your dragon’s back.

“Good, because it’s nothing like it!” You laughed out, your shoulders relaxing, “I feared you would’ve been one of those people who tried to get Obi moving by slightly kicking on his stomach because trust me – it would’ve ended badly”

Jason didn’t find humour in that, but chuckled along nevertheless.

He watched as you hopped on your dragon’s back with elegance and precision, not a single movement wasted. He also took notice at how Obsidian helped you up by lowering one of his wings. He put his helmet on, missing your disappointed look at his now covered face.

“Come on, take my hand and put your right foot on Obi’s wing bone” you instructed as you pointed at where your foot previously was, your other hand outstretched for him to take.

Jason looked at your hand, then at your face. He looked at your hand again.

You couldn’t possibly lift half his body weight up with a single hand, right? A hand that was significant smaller than this, nonetheless.

“Are you sure about this? I’m a big guy, I don’t want to – Oh shit!”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you bent down to grab his hand and Obsidian nudged his foot on his wing, only to lift his whole body up as if he weighted nothing and fling him up in the hair. Jason screamed as he tried not to fly right into the bush behind you. He thankfully didn’t as your tight grip on his hand prevented him from becoming the next rocket man of Gotham.

He landed right behind you, his whole body shaking as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t worry about me, Obi does all the heavy lifting,” you said as you laughed so much that tears started to form at the corners of your eyes. Your dragon seemed to mimic your laugh with huffs and puffs as he moved his head up and down with closed eyes.

Behind you, sitting with an unamused expression and arms crossed over his chest, Jason had a half-mind to just ditch the two of you and walk to the botanic garden alone.

Your laugh quieted down and you looked back at him, this time with a genuinely apologetic look in your eyes.

He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, thankful for his helmet covering his face.

At least someone had the guts to mess with him like that.

“Hold on tightly. I’m warning you, I’ll try to go as slowly as I can but Obi doesn’t like men that much and will actively try to throw you off, so it’s better if you hold onto me, that way he won’t do it,” you told Jason and he glanced down at the dragon, who was already looking at him with an already mischievous look in his eyes. Fucking hell. He hoped to survive his first ever dragon ride.

Jason lifted his hands that were previously on his lap and carefully held your waist, only his gloves and a few layers of clothes separating your skin from his. He swore he could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“I said tighter, Hood,” you told him in a firmer tone, to which he responded by getting closer to you and pressing his chest to your back, his arms now circling your waist tightly.

He could feel your heartbeat picking up significantly and smiled to himself.

“O-okay, that’s better,” you managed to squeak out before tapping your dragon’s neck once.

The sudden movement made him spread out his wings and soon enough you found yourselves up in the air, taking in Gotham’s skyline from above.

Jason couldn’t help but bring you in even tighter, trying his best not to hinder your mobility as you tapped Obsidian’s ears to signal when to turn, opting your practiced tapping signs rather than having to shout out directions, now that you had someone else riding with you.

“Is this the place?” you turned around towards Jason as you got closer to a sign that had “Gotham Public Botanic Garden” written in dark green letters.

Jason nodded, not being able to utter a sound as the proximity between you two made him nervous. He was accustomed to being held from behind when he rescued civilians and tried to take them someplace safe, but to hold on to someone and trust them with his life as he travelled on a dragon’s back? Yeah, that was a new one for him.

You patted Obsidian’s back twice, prompting him to land near the entrance. Thankfully no one was in sight as Jason figured you would’ve gotten more than a few odd looks.

He was the first one to hop off the dragon’s back, already missing your body’s warmth as he tried to hold on to whatever remains where left of it on his leather jacket.

You then slid down, petting Obsidian’s snout with tenderness and placing your lips near his spiked cheek, “Thanks, Obi. Now let’s go, we need to find quite a few things to help Goliath out.”

As you made your way through the various greenhouses, Jason walked by your side and Obsidian on the opposite one, protecting you from harm.

If he could say one good thing about that damn dragon, Jason would praise him for his protectiveness over you. He noticed how, from the very start, he always kept his eyes trained on you, not missing a single sign of discomfort and immediately taking action when he felt like you were being threatened.

Other than that, he was a complete jerk.

You continued to walk in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by you telling him you found another herb needed for the compress.

When you had almost gone through the whole list, Jason spoke up.

“How do you know so much about dragons?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

You smiled fondly at nothing in particular, as if reminiscing some good memories.

“You see,” you continued walking, your gaze never leaving the herbs in your hand, “I was absolutely distraught at how the majority of the people where I come from treat animals that aren’t your usual house pets, especially dragons. They would more often than not abuse, torture and kill them just for fun or to boast to others how they managed to kill a dragon-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath, anger evident in your voice and your eyes.

Obsidian nudged your arm with a sad face, letting out a low grumble and you smiled weakly at him. Jason wanted to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, but he restrained himself.

“I found Obi one morning while working out in the park,” you continued, “and he was so cute, sitting there in that box that he accidentally had set on fire, so chubby and round with those big amber eyes- gosh he was adorable,” you chuckled, a single tear managing to escape and running down your cheek. Jason’s hand twitched by his side.

“I took him home. My parents were seething with rage at the thought of me taking care of a dragon, an animal everybody in our community despised. So I left home and went to live with my best friend, Katie, in a house near our hometown’s lake and from there, piece by piece, we learned more about dragons as we rescued them.”

Jason stayed silent, your words making him see you in a new light. He admired your strength and perseverance, your will to not give up and go against your parents to do what you knew was right. He saw a lot of himself in you and he liked that.

“That’s incredible…wait, I never got your name” he paused embarrassed, having completely forgotten to ask your name at the batcave.

You smiled softly, not a hint of offence in your kind eyes, “No biggie,” you shrugged light-heartedly, “it’s Y/N”.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks”

You stayed like that for a while, content in the silent agreement you both had settled upon. Jason liked you. you weren’t over the top like his siblings were, but also not a complete recluse who disdained human contact, as he often found himself to be like. You were…you. And he liked that.

Soon enough, you had gathered all your ingredients and were getting back onto Obsidian’s back. This time the dragon was much gentler with Jason. He probably felt the shift in demeanour you and him had during the walk and eased up on him. Jason was grateful for not getting hauled up like a ragdoll a second time.

As you were back up into the air, a sense of tranquillity engulfed the both of you before a faraway shriek reminded Jason that you still had another dozen or so more dragons to find and bring back to the manor.

Exchanging a look with you, he observed you directing Obsidian to where you had heard the sound, before a blaze interrupter your path and a pair of glowing eyes were set on the three of you.

Jason’s blood ran cold and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts could as he pointed a gun at the fire-spitting dragon.

“That’s the fucker that melted my bike!”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Monstrous Broadcast (Monster!Alastor x Reader)

CW: Post Stayed Gone Monster Al, Size kink go brr, Blood, DubCon, belly bulge, broadcasting sex, cream pies, cum painting... Rating: Adult Summary: You were sent to Alastor's Broadcasting tower to tell him something just in time to catch the tail end of Stayed Gone. Alastor is in a rather unique mood and in terrifying form as he decides the best way to work his excess energy off is with you.

You were not sure how you got here. Charlie had sent you up to Alastor’s tower to tell him something. What it was, you couldn’t remember. 

Fear raced through your veins as you watched Alastor grow as he stood from his chair. Raw power crackled through his radio tower. He had set aside the microphone tipped cane he so often carried, freeing his hands as he stood. The sound of his voice carried, wrapping around you and drawing you closer and closer. 

Joints loudly cracked and popped as the monster that had once been the handsome, charming Alastor turned to look at you. Bright red radio dials looked at you, the points on the knobs ticking around and around with his heartbeat. Or was it yours? 

Black sclera surrounded the dials, so dark you thought it could swallow the universe. The stitching on his clothes stood out, bright red lit up and glowing with his lower. The usually small antlers on his head were far from that now. They extended, wide and heavy, tines scratching against the walls as he reached out to you. 

Everything about him was so much more massive. His smile stretched wide, bright red blood seeping from his lips and running down his chin. It dripped to the floor, splatters that went ignored. 

You trembled in his hand as he looked down at you. He had an imposing stature as a standard, towering over you, but now he was at least double the size. Wide eyes roamed over his shoulders, now so much broader than they had been. Everything was too wide or too long, his head hanging off a bent neck that shouldn’t have been able to support it. 

“Alastor?” You watched with wide eyes as he looked down at you, head crooked with an unnatural crack that reverberated around the room. 

“Just who I wanted to see,” Alastor said, voice more static than you had ever heard it before. 

You and Alastor were not a couple, but you also were not not a couple. There had been countless nights you passed, tucked into his side, listening to the static weave in and out of his voice. In public, you were nothing more to him than a friend at best. Over his shoulder, nearly blocked from view, was the lit up, glaring ‘on air’ sign. 

“What are you doing?” The question was hardly more than a hissed whisper as a large clawed finger hooked into your pants. 

Alastor only laughed as he pulled, the fabric biting into your lower back before the stitching gave way, ripping. Your eyes roamed over the terrifying man in front of you. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find the power, chokingly thick in the air, attractive. It was so easy to forget just how powerful your lover was. 

There was no denying it now. This was the demon who took lives as a hobby in his life. This was the man who cut down overlords that had ruled for decades as if they were nothing when he landed. This was the man that commanded respect and fear. 

Alastor’s clawed finger cut through your shirt, easily snagging and shredding your bra in the process. You were left naked, standing in front of the bank of windows that looked out over the dark Pentagram City. The only buildings lit up from inside was the hotel. 

Anyone looking in would be able to see you.

That sent excitement through your core. Alastor’s cock strained against his pants, the terrifying size only adding more excitement. With one hand wrapped around your waist, he lifted you easily off your feet. His other hand made quick work of his belt, freeing his cock.

“Alastor,” you said, this time more urgently, as he parted your legs.

“So wet for me,” static threatened to eat his words. 

Red radio dials looked at your glistening folds, betraying how attractive you found his show of dominance and power. A black tongue ran out from between needle sharp yellow teeth, running over his lips before slithering back inside the cavern of his mouth. The stitches at the sides of his smile strained, keeping his smile firmly in place while he spread your knees wider, pushing your legs up and out. 

“The show is far from over, folks,” Alastor said.

“It’s not going to fit,” you whined as the massive head of his cock, more the size of a fist, ran between your folds, probing at your unprepped entrance. 

“Don’t worry,” Alastor said, cheery as the sound of excited cheering burst through the static, “We’e already dead.” 

“What does that mean?” you whimpered as his hand stroked the length of him. His shaft was as thick as your forearm. 

“It means,” Alastor’s cock pressed into your weeping opening, bulling the muscle to widen. “That I will make you take my cock, even if I have to break you.” 

Burning pressure spread from your core as he forced you wider and wider. Pain and pleasure danced as he slowly sank deeper, not even an inch deeper. You could feel his cock pressing against bone as he spread your opening as wide as it felt like your pelvis could accommodate. 

He thrust ever so slightly as the head of his massive cock pushed deeper and deeper, each withdraw spreading your slick over him. You panted and groaned, body trembling as he slowly forced you to take him deeper and deeper. 

Burning pain had your back arching, breasts displayed to him. Wetness seeped out of you, running down the swell of your as. Alastor’s smile and the pain told it you was blood. 

You screamed as the head of his cock popped past your opening your, hole snapping tightly down around his shaft. Pleas of mercy dropped from your lips as you begged him to shrink down, to return to the lover you knew so well. 

Alastor did not relent. Instead, as he pushed deeper and deeper, each slight withdraw followed by a push deeper and deeper. It felt like he was everywhere inside you as he filled you. 

A new pain came to life as his head nudged against your cervix. Tears ran down your eyes as he pulled back, only half his length fitting into you. Static covered praises fell from his bloody grin as you bounced with the force of every thrust. 

The on air sign still was lit behind Alastor. Each of your whimpers, each begging plea, was being broadcast across the city and perhaps further. You didn’t know how wide Alastor’s reach actually was. 

It felt like he was ripping you in two, reach measured thrust of his massive cock splitting you apart. It hurt, but fuck, it felt good. Pain and pleasure mixed as Alastor’s monstrous form hovered above you. Black blood dripped onto the broadcast desk, soaking between buttons and dials. It splattered onto your side, cooling as he worked in and out of you.

Around the city and beyond, perhaps all throughout hell, the sound of your gasping breaths and whimpered pleas, the sound of Alastor’s snarls through the static shifted, tone changing as different effects and overlays were applied, shifting and changing. 

“To big,” you cried as he pressed into you, thrusting his cock into your cervix, pushing you higher up the panel as your body refused to yeld more space to his cock. You were already straining and failing to accommodate his size. Blood trickled down from your core, lubricating his cock more and more while your body painted his desk with it. 

A clawed hand grabbed your shoulder while he looked down at you with small red glowing dials. His face was nothing more than sharp. The teeth, the eyes, the smile- it was all sharp and dangerous, just like the pain that racked through you as his fingers gripped your shoulders. Claw tipped fingers bit into your shoulder as his smile cut somehow wider. 

“I can’t,” you whimpered. Your legs fell open wider as you tried anything to make more room for him. The blunt head of his cock pressed into your cervix more and more. “Please, Alastor, I can’t.” 

“You’re so wet for me, Cher.” Alastor’s static voice growled out, smile not moving as his voice seemed to come from all around her. “You can take it.” 

“I can’t,” tears ran down your face as he pulled back, cock slipping as he backed out of your opening inch by inch. The shaft his cock drug against your sensitive clit, folds spread and stretched to the point of ripping. “Fuck, Alastor. Please, I just- it’s too much, too much.” 

“You can,” Alastor promised, abdomen tensing as blood dripped from his chin onto your abdomen, “And you will.” 

The dark promise was the only warning you had. His body flexed, curling in on you as he thrust forward. His shaft ran over your clit, a blinding pleasure even as it felt like he had ripped your insides apart, forcing them to accommodate him. The scream that ripped from your throat echoed through all of hell. 

Your claws, nothing near as impressive as Alastor’s, dug into his arms as you clung to him. Tremors ran through your body, a convulsion of muscle triggered by pain and adrenaline. Pleasure tainted it all as his cock slid over the bundle of nerves, teasing her clit. 

Wide pain-filled eyes looked up at the black void of Alastors. Your lover had always been gentle with you, until now, even at his most demanding. His hips rutted against you, grinding the fur at the base of his cock against your clit, sparking more pleasure through the pain. 

“Look at you,” Alastor’s voice came from all around as he enjoyed the view. “Look how your stretches.” 

His hand caressed down your naked chest, claws scratching over the pebbled buds of your nipples as he made his way down, palm pushing against the swell of the head of his cock, straining out against your insides.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, running your hand down after his, feeling him from the outside of you. “Alastor,” 

“That’s right, cher,” Alastor groaned, “That’s me, so deep inside you.” 

Each twitch of his cock lodged deep inside you stirred your guts. He ground his hips against your clit, sparking a pleasure that seemed only to be amplified by the pain racking through your body. 

“Tell me it doesn’t feel good,” Alastor growled out, pulling back a few inches only to thrust into you again, clint dragging against his cock, forcing your back to arch. Your breath gasped, pleasure winning out over pain as you ran your hands up his arms in a pathetic attempt to hold the monster that your lover had become. 

“Please,” tears ran down your eyes as your legs relaxed, seeking more of the poisoned pleasure his thrusts gave you, “Fuck, please, Alastor. More. Move. Fuck, do something.” 

The whole of hell heard the moment you had given up, surrendering to the Radio Demon. Gasping moans of pain morphed into that of pleasure as he thrust his cock in and out of you. Each shallow stroke became deeper and deeper. Blood smeared under you, a testament to the ruined state of your insides as he fucked you with full, deep strokes. 

Tears ran down your face, soaking into your hair as each long thrust of his cock hit harshly, bodies slapping together. Your breasts bounced, nipples dancing in front of his glowing face as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Going to cum?” he asked, laughing at the way your stomach distended with every thrust. 

“Fuck, yes.” You whined as his cock brushed your clit again and again, pace quick and never letting up on the stimulation. 

He swelled inside you, somehow able to push your organs aside to make room for his size. Each twitch of his cock felt violent and yet you thrived on it, basking in the poisoned pleasure. 

The coil inside you did not snap, nor did you step over the edge. It wasn’t a soft push. He didn’t even throw you over. No, when you came, it was something unlike anything you had ever experienced before. 

Your world shattered. The coil was little more than shards of shrapnel, adding to the mix of pain and pleasure. The edge seemed to disintegrate under your feet, becoming no more. Muscle ripped with the force of the convulsions that ran through your body. 

His name was a shriek, blowing out speakers throughout hell as your body clamped down on his cock. The thrusts into you were brutal now, stinging pain blooming from where his hips slammed into wet skin. 

Alastor’s static rose, becoming a feeling in the air and less a sound as he held you steady, chasing his own release. Your fingers dug into his coat, trying so hard to ground yourself as you struggled to pull breath after breath into your lungs. 

He came with explosive force, wedging himself deeper and deeper into your opening as he pumped violent spurts of his seed into you. You could feel it as he painted your guts white and then he kept going, thrusting into you as more and more waves of seed was deposited into you. 

He came still, even as he pulled out, fist wrapping around his twitching cock. Long, hot ropes of cum spurted from him as he thrust into his working first, shooting out onto you. As his seed gushed from your twitching hole, a mix of white stained with ribbons of red, he painted your stomach.

Ropes decorated your breasts, coating your nipple. He moaned, shoving seed back into you with claw tipped fingers as he fucked his hand. Ropes landed on your neck as you gasped, only to have hot cum land on your face.

The salty taste of him invaded your mouth as his fingers finally left you. Seed soaked into your hair as you lay, twitching, bleeding, leaking and gasping for breath. 

Only once his cock stopped shooting hot ropes onto your spent body did Alastor’s form recede, changing from the monster that had taken you with such violence to the man you had known. All the while, you lay soaked from the inside out in his seed. 

Alastor stood, looking down at the result of his work. Jagged breaths racked through your body as you struggled to focus your eyes on him. You had sounded good, broadcast throughout hell. A truly lovely encore to his performance with that TV dimwit. 

Better yet, you looked more beautiful to him now, body spent, broken and wrecked, leaking blood and his seed onto the broadcasting equipment that was his pride. 

Oh yes, you looked good like this indeed. He would have to repeat this broadcast, perhaps make it a reoccurring special. Not too often, though. Even with your demonic abilities, you would need time to heal all the tissues he had torn. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[radiostaticlive]

Tim did not wake up in his bed. No, he woke up a dirty alley in the heart of Crime Alley.

Tim, hand pressed over his ear: Oracle, can you fill me in.

Silence. Not even static.

Tim looks down for the first time and notices he’s not in consume. He’s not Red Robin, but Tim Drake. And pointy does not have any of his equipment on him.

What the heck. He was pretty sure he was fighting the Penguin earlier. Had that bird knocked him out and strip him?

No. No, he’s in the same clothes he put on the morning before. The same clothes that he wore to that stupid W.E meeting.

Tim, muttering to himself as he slowly leaves the alley: Ok. Ok calm down Tim. You can figure this out.

He pats himself down, looking for his phone to call the cave. He finds it, noticeably cracked but still functional.

No signal.

Tim: Just my luck. Looks like I have to walk home.

When Tim gets to the entrance of the cave he finds it sealed shut. Like glued to the seems with concrete shut.

Ok. That’s ok. Tim’s siblings prank him all the time. This is nothing new. Just incredibly inconvenient.

Takes him an additional 20 minutes but he’s finally in the cave, thanks to one of the multiple entrances. Thank god for Bruce and his paranoia.

“As you can see here. Batman had a tool for pretty much anything and everything. “

Tim froze at the unknown voice in the cave. Sticking to the shadows he crept forward to peer inside without being seen.

The cave looked sterile. Velvet rope blocked off the Bat computer, and off to the side a table was out displaying case files and Bat-a-rings.

What the.

“And if you look over here, you can see what our hero’s wore to protect our great city.” The same voice drew Tim’s attention to the group of people in the middle of the room.

They looked like tourists. Cameras out, faces a mixer of intrigued excitement or boredom. They were fallowing a lady, presumably the tour guide, to there Jason’s memorial was.

Tim was quick to sneak into the back of the group and act like he was just another bored teenager. He had to figure out what was going on and if that meant touring his own house, so be it.

Tour guide: And here we are. The Robins. the boy, or girl, Wonders. Now there were a total of 5 robins, but Stephane Brown only hold the mantle for a short time. In order the Robins were first, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

This isn’t good. First some lady was giving a tour of the Batcave of all places and now she knows their names. And she just told about 20 people and god who knows how many more.

She knows.

She told.

Everyone knows.

Fuck.

Ok, maybe the bats went into hiding? That had to be what happened. But then why would they leave Tim? Did they think he was dead?

The tour went on. The guide went on and on about things that didn’t really matter or were completely inaccurate. Tim was trying not to freak out the longer it went on.

Finally the group went to the elevator, except the small 2 passenger elevator was replaced with one of those big ones that could hold a large group of people.

The manor proper was very much in the same state as the cave. Things were roped off while other items were displayed. It made his head hurt.

Tapping the shoulder of the guy next to him.

Tim: Hey, do you remember what the name of this place is?

Guy: Uh, yeah kid. Kinda hard with the cheesy name.

Tim: Which is? Sorry bad memory.

Guy: The Bat- Museum. Seriously kid. I know that this stuff is boring but you gotta learn your history. The Bats were good people.

Tim, trying not to show the panic at the perfect that he’s been hearing all day.

Tim: Yeah you’re right.

Thankfully the cave seemed to be the end of the tour as the guide lead them to the main foyer.

Tim in all his panic glory, ran out the doors the minute people were leaving.

Muttering a desperate plead to any god in the universe.

Tim: Please don’t be right. Please don’t be right. Please don’t be dead.

With all the stealth his shaking form could do, Tim makes his was around the Manor to the secluded privet cemetery.

Tim’s heart dropped in his chest. Even at a distance he could make out several graves in the once nearly empty lot.

Not bothering with the gate, Tim climbed and hosted himself over landing hard on the ground.

But he

Did

Not

Care.

Tears unwilling fell from his eyes as he read the names on the new graves.

His family’s names.

On sleek marble.

Dead.

Even Alfred had his own stone. Right next to Bruce, like he always did. Like he forever will do now.

Tim stared blankly at his own grave that was in the middle of Steph’s and Jason’s. The one he crawled out of. But not this time.

In loving memory of Timmothy Drake- Wayne

Beloved son, friend and hero.

“Reach for the stars chum.” - Bruce Wayne, adopted father

Tim fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

He failed.

He failed them.

Again.

He couldn’t protect his family a second time. What a worthless “hero” he was. He couldn’t even die right!

White light surrounded Tim’s crying form.

Phantom stood, tears still falling down his face.

With one last look at the graves around him, he flew up and away from Gotham.

Away from the city he failed.

Just like Amity.

[shyshyshyz]

Got a request: Caitlyn x astronaut reader who arrived to Runeterra via a wormhole and crashed in the harbor resulting in them being a celebrity among the locals. One day Caitlyn sees the reader trying to fix their radio and phone which they do as it begins singing things from their world.

Echoes from Beyond

Summary: After crash-landing in Piltover, you’ve drawn quite the crowd as the city’s first extraterrestrial visitor, but you’re more concerned about fixing your radio and tuning out the attention. Still, Caitlyn Kiramman’s curiosity—and her sharp wit—keep pulling you in. When she catches you trying to repair your old radio late one night, the device starts playing a song from home, and the sarcastic exchanges between you take on a different tone entirely.

Word Count: 6,500

W: Sci-fi elements, sarcastic humor, homesickness, slow-burn romance, tension.

Sparks flew from the radio, and you winced, pulling your hand back. The device sputtered, wires twisted and exposed, and the panel you’d jerry-rigged threatened to fall off altogether. “Perfect. Yeah, go ahead and fall apart on me,” you muttered, glaring at the radio like it might fix itself out of sheer guilt.

“Talking to your equipment?” a familiar voice broke in. “I’ve heard it’s not the most effective strategy.”

You glanced up, a smirk forming as you found Caitlyn Kiramman watching you with an amused arch of her brow. “Well, you’d talk to it too if you’d crashed on an alien planet and had exactly one broken radio to your name.”

She chuckled, stepping closer. “Good to know sarcasm is universal. You do realize half of Piltover’s harbor has been talking about you since the day you arrived?”

You gave a dramatic sigh, feigning a look of exhaustion. “Ah, yes. My lifelong dream: celebrity status on a world I didn’t even know existed. Truly, I’m living the dream.”

Caitlyn laughed, a real, warm sound that seemed out of place in the cold harbor air. She leaned down beside you, peering at the broken radio. “Does it ever work, or is it more of an… ornamental piece?”

“Oh, it works. When it feels like it.” You poked at the wiring, the sarcasm creeping back into your voice. “It’s a little temperamental, just like me, I guess.”

She tilted her head, giving you a sidelong glance. “I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

You smirked, glancing up at her. “Careful. Next thing you know, I’ll be making demands. Like… what’s a proper breakfast here? Any weird Piltover customs I should be aware of?”

Her lips quirked as she held your gaze. “Maybe you’ll find out if you stop playing with broken radios in the middle of the night.”

Just as you were about to volley back with another jab, the radio sputtered to life, static giving way to a faint, haunting melody from your world. Both of you fell silent, the sarcasm fading as the music filled the air, bringing a rare quietness to your typically witty exchanges.

For once, Caitlyn looked genuinely speechless. “That’s… that’s beautiful,” she murmured. “It doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard.”

You cleared your throat, attempting to hide the sudden vulnerability the music brought. “It’s just a song from home. They—uh, they play it a lot back there. It’s about… finding beauty, even when you’re a million miles from home.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, and you felt her presence in a way that startled you. “I think I get it.” Her hand brushed against yours, and your sarcasm melted just a bit. “Maybe you don’t have to be so far from that kind of beauty. Maybe Piltover has a little of it, too.”

You let out a scoff, though it came out weaker than intended. “Yeah? Well, jury’s still out on that one.”

But as her hand stayed near yours, and her gaze held yours just a moment longer than usual, you felt a warmth that wasn’t just from the music. Maybe, you thought, Piltover had more than you’d given it credit for—especially if Caitlyn was part of it.

[jaggedjot]

Louis and Claudia are not just identifiable as American by way of their speech (“American? Your French is ugly.”) and movement (“You could tell from his walk, he was an American.”), but are posited by the narrative to be symbolic representations of postwar America itself (“The American vampires appeared to be as dull and plain as their tourists and soldiers were.”, “Do American vampiresses all wear pastels?”, “And are all American vampires as alluring as you?”). The pair set themselves up in France as “moneyed Americans”, described by Armand as having a “velvet-heeled arrival” despite the pair coming to the city on the back of a truck. That Paris has been left by the war with deep physical and societal wounds is treated as an inconvenience that they have to impatiently endure. Santiago picks at these stitches during the performative execution of the pointedly foreign Annika, invoking the paranoia of occupation with his line “[...] the next time you're in the pew, you turn to your neighbour and say, ‘Peace be unto you.’ They'll give you up... in a wink!”. It is telling that the only explanation Armand gives for his choice of victims to the coven is that they are profiteering from the suffering of postwar France (“Whilst their countrymen clutch ration cards, they've made quite a killing manipulating the black markets.”), a statement which seems to deepen their appetite for the ensuing slaughter. These are not resentments and histories however shared by Claudia, who may revel in the massacre but has already knowingly associated with a woman branded as a collaborator, or Louis, whose attempts to engage with the world through photography only further positions him as an outsider. This detachment is what causes Louis and Claudia to be regarded as interlopers, suspected to believe themselves to be too important to heed traditions, manners (“It's custom and practice for traveling vampires to make themselves known”) or the welfare of their temporary home (“We were constantly cleaning up for them.”). Though American soldiers played a role in the later stages of the liberation of Paris, the increasing presence of Americans in the city is framed as another more insidious occupation (“[...] our Anglican friends now invading Paris postwar”, “My dear American friend [...] who has dominated my mind”). As Americans, Louis and Claudia are granted more privileges in society than other black ethnics groups (“But I wasn't an Algerian. I was an American”). It is not just that the French theatre troupe composed of multinational actors now has “five out of every seven” of their performances in English, but the coven has been instructed by Armand to remake itself as “an English company” and speak the language offstage too. Armand’s welcoming attitude to increasing American influence in the city, how it creates a “more receptive” and “optimistic” audience, is not a simple or universal one. There is a distinct bitterness belying the fanfare accompanying Louis and Claudia’s arrival, particularly from Santiago (“I ask you, Maitre, was it worth the wait?”), but it is also notably still present in Armand’s lighthearted teasing (“Seventy-seven years and it still feels like a slight.”, “Five months removed [...] the Americans were finally coming to Pigalle.”). At least during these early months, Louis and Claudia seem to view Paris more as a static backdrop against which they can discover themselves and heal their relationship. This is a mistake that they will likely only realise when it is already too late, for this fragile and volatile setting is entwined with the tragedy that awaits them.

[whereserpentswalk]

You are going to get the chance to go to a university in another plane of existence for one semester. Everyone in your life will just think you're abroad somewhere. When entering the new plane you'll be given a new body that matches that plane's inhabitants, (most people probably won't believe you if you ad it you're from another plane). You'll also automatically know the language they speak there.

Your options are:

1: a university in a plane where no biological life exists, and instead the main inhabitants are advanced robots. Your new body will probably be pretty alien to the one you have now, so it might take soke time getting used to it. The technology of this plane is also more advanced than yours. And the university you'll be going to is inside of a massive pyramid.

2: a university within the plane of the faeries. This is actually one or the planes that's had the most contact with your own, though they don't look upon humans well. Faeries are diverse creatures, ranging from elegant humanoid, to buglike and fungal monasteries, it also seems they don't have a human concept of morality. Also note that their idea of a "school" is much diffrent from ours.

3: a university in an alternate timeline where the KPG mass extinction never occurred. The earth here has a single sentient species, who evolved from feathered raptors. This is an alternate earth instead of a truly alien plane, so it's not going to have diffrent physics, though you will be dealing with a species very alien to your own.

4: a university within a plane of endless sea. There are three main species here, one who have humanlike bodies but gills and mouths like jawless fish, one who have hard crablike shells that almost look like armor, and one who have long shark like tails but more humanoid upper halves with four arms. Humans also exist here, and live exclusively on ships and submarines, but they're rare.

5: a university in a plane similar to our own earth, but where magic, cryptids and monsters all exist and are known to exist. While the school is mostly humans, a few undead, lycanthropes and other strange creatures have attended here. The university you'd be sent here if you choose this to is in a major cultural hub, and while it doesn't teach exclusively magic that is an option. It should also be mentioned that humans don't have sex here and their bodies lack any sex characteristics, and how they reproduce is a mystery.

6: a university in a plane where demons, djinn and fallen angels come from. This is a vast realm, filled with caverns, dark forests, vast deserts, and massive artificial structures, with the university you'd be going to here being at the massive city in its center. The creatures here are far less evil than many think, and their forms are probably the most diverse of an plane listed here's inhabitants. This is also another plane which has had some interaction with yourse.

7: a university in a plane of endless forest, with trees so massive entire cities are built into their trunks. Nobody has ever seen its floor, and nonody has reached the top of the tallest known trees. This plane is inhabited by insectoid humanoids, of many diffrent varieties, and it seems that no vertebrate life exists here.

8: a school in a plane that exists entirely digitally. Some parts of it are static screens, others entire 3d or 2d worlds. It can be hard for mortals to adjust to this type of world, but if you've spent a lot of time on the internet or playing video games you kind of get how it feels to be here, just without any body required to interface with this location. Also note that there are some very malicious entities here that might harm you if you aren't being careful here.

9: a university in a desert plane where humans have become outnumbered by various types of undead, ranging from liches and phantoms to vampires. The undead here are sentient and have mostly assimilated into human society by now and most humans have adapted to their culture, and the war between the two kinds has long ended. While this world is at about a 21st century level of technology, there's proof it may have once been far more advanced long ago. Due to a past conflict humans here have lost what we'd consider 'afab' bodies, and require strange magic involving water to create offspring.

10: a school in a plane that consists of an endless city, constantly bathed in summer night. Technology here is slightly more advanced than it is in your world, and alongside humans, cyborgs, and robots are quite common, some of whom take on forums quite alien to humanity. Humans here also all posses bodies we'd consider 'afab', due to events long past, and reproduce using technology. The university you'll go to if you choose this one is in one of the most populated parts of the endless city, near the center of the known world, though they say strange and unknowable creatures lurk near the edges of the known city.

11: the university in the nameless city of yetoth.[Warning, this is a highly dangerous option and involves entities not cleared for human knowledge]

Reblog to teleport to the plane of your choice. Like to bring home a gift from where you went.

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Guys, I beg for patience hahaha

Long before Wanda and R's relationship, there is an extremely complex universe, so this needs to be built to make sense. I promise the kiss is comin and it will be surprising, in the meantime, enjoy the slow burn <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: the arrival of a well-known figure is what the witch in Wanda needed to take over the reins.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

FIRE

In an open field in space, a spacecraft glided smoothly through the infinite darkness. Inside, Carol Danvers was adjusting the settings on the main panel.

“Danvers,” Strange’s voice echoed in her communicator.

Carol rolled her eyes, but a smile curved her lips. “Sorcerer Supreme. Long time, no see. I hope this is important because I was in the middle of—”

“We need you,” Strange interrupted, the urgency in his voice cutting off any attempt at casual conversation.

Carol’s smile disappeared. “What’s going on?”

Strange appeared as a holographic projection in front of her, the Eye of Agamotto glowing on his chest. “The Scarlet Witch. Wanda Maximoff. I’ve located her.”

Carol crossed her arms, her face hardening. “Wasn’t she... dealt with at Mount Wundagore?”

“Not exactly,” Strange replied, his voice serious. “She survived. She’s in an alternate universe, without full powers for now, but that won’t last. If she remembers who she is—or worse, if another version of her intervenes—she could destroy reality again.”

Carol nodded slowly, the weight of the mission beginning to take shape in her mind. “And you want me to bring her in. Why? Seems more like your area of expertise.”

Strange sighed. “I can’t get involved directly. She has ties to the Darkhold that could interfere with my magic, even in a different universe. You, on the other hand, are practically indestructible.”

A sarcastic smile returned to Carol’s face. “Practically?”

Strange ignored the remark. “Your strength is what we need. But be careful, Carol. She may be weakened, but that doesn’t make her any less dangerous. Wanda is unpredictable. And, above all, she’s emotional.”

Carol tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. “So it’s a search-and-capture mission. Only this time, the target might destroy me if I make a mistake. Perfect.”

Strange opened a portal, his expression even darker. “Remember: she’s not the same Wanda we knew. Proceed with caution.”

[...]

Carol stepped through the portal into a world that seemed almost idyllic. The city's urbanization was a near-perfect blend of Westview and New York. The Captain took a deep breath, taking a moment to absorb the atmosphere. The place was surprisingly ordinary, but the small details buzzed in her mind with distrust. Impeccable lawns, vibrant flowers adorning windows, streets too clean, and yet… something felt off.

As she walked, her attention was drawn to a university at the city's center, surrounded by tall trees and an open field. This was where Strange had detected the core of Wanda's residual energy.

Bizarrely intriguing.

Carol found Wanda an interesting woman. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t help but admire Wanda—not just as the powerful Scarlet Witch, but as a woman. A woman seemingly burdened with sorrow and mystery, a walking paradox of strength and vulnerability.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place you’d find a dark sorceress,” she murmured to herself, adjusting her communicator.

Strange responded in her ear. “She’s hidden herself in a universe that doesn’t attract attention. The problem is, that means the people here have no idea who she is... or what she’s capable of.”

As Carol walked the streets, she felt something—a subtle pulse in the air, almost like static electricity.

“She’s close,” Strange warned.

Entering the university, Carol tried to blend in with the students rushing out of their classes. Suddenly, someone bumped into her. Carol barely moved from the impact, but she looked down to see you had stumbled and fallen. It was unusual for her to be caught off guard, especially by something as mundane as an accidental encounter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, hurrying to gather the books and papers scattered on the ground.

Carol crouched to help, her eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. There was something about your presence that gave her pause—a strange magnetism, as if you carried something she couldn’t quite identify.

“It’s fine,” Carol replied, her voice calm. “Are you okay?”

You looked up, meeting her blue eyes. For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was an intensity there, as if Carol was seeing something deeper in you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, a bit flustered. “Sorry about that.”

Carol handed you the papers she’d picked up but didn’t step away immediately. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.

“You’re different,” she said without thinking.

You frowned, a little defensive. “What?”

Carol hesitated, realizing she’d spoken too much. “I don’t know. You just seem... special.”

You let out a short, nervous laugh. “If that’s your attempt at flirting, you need more practice.”

Carol smirked, surprised by your response. “It wasn’t that,” she said. “But I’ll take the tip.”

The moment was interrupted by a familiar sensation that passed through Carol like a wave. Energy. Red. Unstable. She immediately went on high alert, her eyes scanning for the source.

You noticed the change in her expression and followed her gaze. “Are you looking for someone?”

Carol glanced back at you, debating whether to be honest. “Maybe,” she said finally. “Do you study here?”

“Yes,” you replied, still intrigued. “Why?”

Before Carol could answer, a group of students passed between you, forcing her to step back. When she looked again, you were already walking away, heading into the main building.

She stood there for a moment, thinking. Something about you unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the energy she’d sensed. It was the way you seemed completely normal and yet... something more.

“Interesting,” Carol murmured to herself before continuing her search, now with you in mind.

As Carol moved through the corridors, she couldn’t stop thinking about you. That brief interaction had left a mark. There was something in your eyes, something that seemed to carry a weight heavier than it should for someone so young.

Then she heard it—a low laugh and a murmur unmistakable in its tone. Following the sound, Carol found you again, talking with a group of classmates. You seemed relaxed, but your eyes betrayed you. They held the same intensity she had seen in Wanda.

Carol’s heart raced. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she now knew her mission had just become much more complicated.

She entered the university office with decisive steps, the air charged with the familiar tension of magic. The space looked normal, but there was a latent energy that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Wanda stood near the window, her gaze lost on the horizon, but her posture rigid, as if ready to strike.

Wanda raised her eyes, and for a moment, her gaze met Carol’s. There was something almost unsettling in her expression, as if she were bracing for the worst and yet completely indifferent to it.

“Captain Marvel,” Wanda said, her tone disdainful but laced with exhaustion. “Come to take me back?”

Carol stopped a few steps away, her arms relaxed at her sides. “Depends,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you going to cooperate?”

Wanda let out a short, humorless laugh. “Cooperate? Do you think I’m some escaped prisoner?”

Carol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs as if she were there for a casual chat. The gesture made Wanda frown.

“Why are you here, Carol?” Wanda finally asked, her tone impatient.

“I’m here because you’re hurt, Wanda,” Carol said bluntly. “And when someone like you is hurting, the whole world feels it.”

Wanda looked away, as if the words had struck a sensitive nerve. “I’m not a danger to anyone here.”

“For now,” Carol replied softly. “But that’s not what this is about, is it? You’re not hiding because you want to hurt anyone. You’re hiding because you don’t know how to stop hurting yourself.”

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Wanda finally broke the silence, her voice lower, almost a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like, Carol. To lose everything. Absolutely everything. And still be expected to exist as if nothing happened.”

Carol tilted her head. “No, I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything,” she admitted. “But I know what it’s like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. To feel like you have to be strong all the time because if you break, everything else breaks with you.”

Wanda looked at her, her eyes shining with something Carol couldn’t quite identify. “And can you handle it?”

Carol gave a sad smile. “I do my best. But I won’t pretend it’s easy. And neither should you.”

The red glow in Wanda’s eyes flickered for a moment before being replaced by an expression of doubt. “I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted.

“Maybe you don’t need to fix it,” Carol said. “Maybe you just need to accept that you’re not alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Wanda seemed to consider the idea. But then, like a barrier being raised, her expression hardened again.

“You don’t understand,” she said, standing up. “I’m not just me. I’m her. I’m chaos. I’m destruction.”

Carol stood up as well, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s. “And I’m Carol Danvers,” she said firmly. “I’m a woman who’s faced gods and monsters. If you think I’m going to give up on you just because it’s easier, you’re wrong.”

For a moment, the silence returned, but this time, it felt different. A palpable tension hung in the air. Wanda finally looked away, her expression conflicted and contradictory.

“Leave, Carol,” she said weakly. “Before it’s too late.”

The conversation seemed to be nearing an end until Carol brought you up.

“Is it her? Is she the girl?” Carol asked, her voice laden with curiosity.

The weight of Carol's words hung in the air like distant thunder, but Wanda remained quiet, unmoving like a statue. Inside, however, she was a battlefield.

"She's right, you know," the Witch whispered in her mind, her voice dripping with venom and truth. "This girl is different. But you'll never have anything if you keep hiding."

Wanda clenched her fists, the red in her hands flickering between brightness and shadow. "I’m not hiding," she replied internally, her tone full of desperation and denial.

"Yes, you are. Hiding behind an idea of normalcy that was never yours. If you wanted your family, you should've fought for them. If you want this girl, you must fight now. Before it's too late."

The effect was immediate. Wanda faltered, her body trembling for a moment. The red glow Carol knew so well began emanating from Wanda’s hands, faint at first, but rapidly intensifying. Wanda closed her eyes, trying to contain the surge, but it was already too late.

"Don’t talk about her," Wanda whispered, her voice low but laden with threat. When she opened her eyes, the deep red glimmered within them, and Carol instinctively stepped back, raising an energy barrier.

"I knew it," Carol murmured, more to herself. "It’s her. She’s awakening something in you, something you can’t control."

"You don’t understand," Wanda growled, her voice now a blend of the woman Carol knew and something more primal. "She’s not just a girl. She... she completes me. She makes me feel alive in a way nothing else can."

Carol clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure. "It’s not her awakening this, Wanda. It’s the Witch within you. She’s using your feelings to gain strength."

Within Wanda's mind, the battle raged on. Carol's voice and the reality around her faded, replaced by an increasingly tumultuous internal dialogue.

"You see it, don’t you?" the Witch taunted, her voice echoing through Wanda's mind. "She understands, even if she tries to deny it. She knows I’m a part of you. I always have been."

"You’re just a part I never wanted," Wanda retorted, fighting to keep control of her thoughts. "You’re pain, chaos, destruction. I’ve tried... I’ve tried to get rid of you."

"And where has that led you?" the Witch shot back, sharp. "To loneliness. To emptiness. To the endless nights you spent crying over everything you’ve lost. But now... now you have something. Her. And you want to tell me you don’t feel the power growing because she’s here?"

Wanda hesitated, and the pause was enough for the Witch to press harder.

Wanda let out a bitter laugh, and the power around her intensified. "You think you can separate me from her? From myself? You have no idea what it’s like to live with this pain, this emptiness. She’s the only thing that fills it."

"The girl sees you, Wanda. All of you. Not just the mother, the teacher, the broken woman. She sees the strength The power. She sees... me."

As Carol continued speaking, trying to reach Wanda, the primal side of the Scarlet Witch began fully emerging. Wanda’s movements became more fluid, almost as if she were floating, and the crimson aura surrounding her grew nearly suffocating.

"I don’t want her to see this," Wanda whispered, the weight of the truth choking her. "I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to hurt her."

"You can’t hurt what’s meant for you," the Witch said, her voice dripping with certainty. "She’s here for a reason. You feel it, don’t you? She’s the thread connecting you to what you’re meant to be. Not the teacher. Not the mother. But the Scarlet Witch. Me."

Wanda shut her eyes, trying to push the words away, but they were like a constant drumbeat in her mind. Outside, she could feel Carol’s presence, the tension in the air, but she was too far gone to act.

"And if I lose everything again?" Wanda asked, her voice trembling.

"You only lose when you resist," the Witch replied, now soft, almost gentle. "Let me take over, Wanda. Just this once. You don’t have to bear this alone."

"I can’t..."

"You can," the voice interrupted firmly. "I am you, Wanda. We’re not enemies. We’re two sides of the same coin. And together... we’re unstoppable."

"Wanda," Carol tried once more. "You don’t have to do this. We can find a solution together."

But it was no longer Wanda in control.

"Don’t underestimate me, Captain," the Scarlet Witch said, her voice brimming with a confidence and cruelty that made Carol shudder. "I’m not the woman you think you know. Not anymore."

Carol felt the impact before the attack landed. Red energy slammed into her barrier, nearly knocking her backward. She countered, but she realized that, no matter how powerful she was, she was up against something far greater than just magic: it was a broken heart, a divided soul, and a passion that had turned into something dangerous and overwhelming.

Wanda’s internal struggle between her human side and the Scarlet Witch was palpable, but now, standing before Carol, the primal, wild side had taken control.

"She’s mine!" the Witch murmured, as if it were both a promise and a threat.

The air in the room thickened, charged with the energy of two titans on the brink of collision. Carol clenched her fists, golden energy beginning to radiate from her body, illuminating the space. Wanda, in turn, was entirely enveloped in her crimson aura, her eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity.

"If you won’t stand down willingly," Carol said gravely, "then I’ll use force."

Wanda tilted her head, a cruel smile curling her lips. "Fine."

Without another word, Carol struck first, surging forward at supersonic speed. Her golden energy tore through the air like a comet, aiming straight for Wanda’s chest. But the Scarlet Witch raised a hand casually, creating a crimson barrier that absorbed the blow as if it were nothing.

"You’re predictable," Wanda taunted before unleashing a wave of energy that sent Carol hurtling backward, smashing through the walls of the university office and landing in the courtyard.

Students fled in panic as the two titans clashed. Carol stood, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. She charged at Wanda again, this time surrounding her with an explosion of energy that fractured the ground beneath them.

"Is that all you’ve got?" Wanda mocked, before vanishing in a red mist and reappearing behind Carol, grabbing her by the neck with supernatural strength.

"You think you can stop me, Carol? Everything in this universe belongs to me, Captain... even you."

With a roar of rage, Carol channeled all her energy into a concentrated attack, exploding outward. The impact was so powerful that it tore a rift in the multiverse, exposing glimpses of parallel realities. But Wanda only laughed.

"You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," she said, extending her hands. Her red magic enveloped the rift, sealing it effortlessly.

Carol, panting, fell to her knees. But before she could react, Wanda whispered a spell, and magical chains wrapped around Carol’s body, binding her in place.

"You’re strong," Wanda admitted, circling Carol like a predator. "But brute strength is nothing against the power of chaos."

With an elegant gesture, Wanda conjured an orb of crimson energy filled with glowing runes. She sent it toward Carol like a breath, and though Carol tried to resist, the spell was irresistible. The Captain Marvel’s golden light faded, and her gaze turned vacant.

Carol rose slowly, but she was no longer herself. Her body was a vessel, now controlled by Wanda’s will.

"Welcome to my world, Captain," Wanda said, approaching Carol and caressing the ex-heroine’s face as if she were a masterpiece. "Perfect. Submissive. Mine."

Wanda smiled triumphantly, her eyes still glowing red. She raised her arms, and the universe around her seemed to bend to her will. The sky turned a pulsating crimson, and the air vibrated with raw energy.

Every star on the horizon flickered, as if fearing her presence.

"I warned you," she murmured, a victorious smile gracing her lips, her eyes blazing like fire. "Queens aren’t dethroned. They take what’s theirs."

And in that moment, the multiverse knelt before the Scarlet Witch as she rose above all, invincible, relentless, supreme.

[...]

The environment was in absolute chaos when you opened Wanda's office door. Papers were scattered across the floor, furniture was overturned, and the air carried the sharp tang of ozone and magic that made your hair stand on end. In the middle of it all, Wanda stood motionless, arms crossed, and her face etched with an unfriendly expression.

"What the hell happened here?!" you asked, eyes wide as you took in the wreckage.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, looking more irritated than usual. "None of your business, girl. Just clean it up."

You stopped surveying the mess and shot her an incredulous look. "Clean it? Me? Do you have any idea how bad this room is? It looks like a hurricane came through—or worse, like someone fought here. Alone, it'll take me hours!"

Wanda leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp. "I don't recall asking for your opinion. Just do it."

You let out a dramatic sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "Fine, but if you want me to clean all this up, maybe you should use those red fireballs you have. It’d make things easier, you know? Instead of just standing there barking orders like a tyrant."

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Wanda remained still, her eyes narrowing slowly as you, apparently fearless, kept your gaze fixed on her. Then something unexpected happened.

Wanda laughed. Not a free or kind laugh, but a low, dangerously sarcastic one. She stepped toward you, her heels echoing on the cluttered floor. Each step felt like a threat, but you stood your ground, even as your heart raced.

"You have a special talent for irritating me, don’t you?" she said, her voice low and controlled, though her eyes glowed with that red hue you were starting to recognize. "And no, those 'red fireballs,' as you call them, aren’t here to make your life easier."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "So what are they for? Boosting your ego? Because honestly, I think it's already big enough."

Wanda gave a crooked smile, stepping so close she was dangerously near. The heat of her presence was almost tangible. "You like testing limits, don’t you? Maybe I should show you what those 'fireballs' can really do."

Your heart raced, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you stepped back, stumbling slightly over some debris.

"Yeah, well, maybe I overstepped a little," you admitted, trying to sound indifferent as your mind screamed that getting out of this room alive would be a miracle.

Wanda tilted her head, as if assessing you. Then, with a quick gesture, she used her magic to lift a pile of papers and organize them neatly on the desk—just to prove she could.

"See?" you said, pointing at the magical movement. "Effortless. You could do this in two minutes. Why are you making me clean?"

Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes almost theatrically. "Because, girl, you need to learn that things in life don’t come for free. And, frankly, watching you complain is one of the few entertaining things in my day."

You huffed, but there was an unexpected warmth in your belly—a confusing mix of frustration and something else you didn’t want to admit. "Entertaining, huh? Great. I’ll clean. But know that I’m going to complain every second."

Wanda gave a slow, dangerous smile. "Do that, and I might add more tasks to your list. Who knows? Maybe I'll even use my 'fireballs'... just not in the way you’d like."

Her tone was a mix of threat and provocation, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to punch her or... something else. Muttering under your breath, you started picking up the wreckage while Wanda settled into her chair, watching you like you were live entertainment.

It was a power game, a dance of provocations and resistance, and deep down, you hated—or maybe loved—that Wanda Maximoff always seemed to have the last word.

You were at your wit's end by the time you finished cleaning the office. Every corner, every piece of paper, every bit of furniture had been meticulously attended to. Sweaty and exhausted, you looked around and let out a satisfied sigh. "Finally."

That’s when Wanda walked back in. She looked completely refreshed, as if she’d just returned from an exclusive spa. The contrast with your disheveled state was ridiculous.

She glanced around, hands on her hips, and made a face. "This is terrible! Do you have any idea how to clean?"

You blinked, incredulous. "Terrible? I spent HOURS cleaning this!"

Wanda merely snapped her fingers, and in the blink of an eye, the office became immaculate. The papers were stacked neatly, the furniture was back in place, and even the air felt fresher.

Your jaw dropped. "You’re telling me you could’ve done that the entire time?!"

Wanda shrugged, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips. "Of course. But where’s the fun in that?"

The blood rushed to your head, and you saw red. "You’re impossible! Arrogant, egotistical, tyrannical—"

Before you could finish your list of insults, you took a step forward, then another. Before you knew it, you were practically nose-to-nose with her, finger pointing like a dagger. Wanda simply raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Oh. The baby’s angry," she teased, tilting her head slightly. "I really do love seeing you like this. It makes my day."

You growled, patience completely gone, and tried to push her, but Wanda was quicker. In a movement almost casual, she grabbed your hair with one hand and held your neck with the other, pulling you close with enough force to make it clear who was in control.

"Just because I find you adorable when you’re angry," she said, her tone low and laced with something almost dangerous, "and I go out of my way to see that little face turn red, doesn’t mean I’ll let you forget who’s in charge here. Got it?"

Your heart raced, but you kept your gaze locked on hers, even as your skin tingled where her fingers touched.

"Got it?" she repeated, tightening her grip on your hair slightly.

You swallowed hard, unsure whether you hated or loved the sensation. "Yes, ma’am," you murmured, your voice slightly shaky.

Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief moment, and you saw something change in her expression. She was tempted. Tempted to do something she knew she shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you, her gaze fixed on yours as if seeing something that made her burn inside. The fire of anger and determination radiating from you was intoxicating. Every time your voice rose, every insult hurled her way, it drew a slow, dangerous smile to her lips. It wasn’t just the challenge that drew her; it was the raw force of your youth, your conviction.

The witch within her began to whisper. "Look at how she glows, how she resists. She’s like a storm waiting to be tamed. We could shape her, drink her in, consume every drop of that fire. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to feel that running through our veins?"

Wanda tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. Not when every move you made felt like a veiled invitation. "She provokes me," Wanda thought, the heat rising through her body. "Without even realizing it, she makes me vulnerable. But at the same time… she makes me feel alive."

"Touch her," the voice whispered. "Make her understand the power you hold. Kiss her, taste her. She belongs to us."

In that moment, Wanda reached out firmly, pulling you closer. There was no hesitation, only raw desire that seemed to overpower everything around her. She held you, her gaze burning with a mix of need and fascination.

"You have no idea what you’re provoking," Wanda murmured, but there was something inevitable in the way her voice wavered, as if she were on the verge of surrendering to everything she felt.

But before she could act, a knock at the door echoed through the room.

Wanda released you abruptly, stepping back with an exasperated sigh. "Come in," she said, her tone impatient, though her posture remained composed as if nothing had happened.

You took a step back, discreetly massaging your neck while glancing at the door. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, but no one seemed to notice—except the two of you.

The sound of the door closing behind whoever had entered was just a distant echo in your ears. Your focus was locked on Wanda, on her eyes burning like embers, as if the interruption had only fueled what was about to erupt between you.

The space around you seemed tighter, hotter, as if the very air was conspiring to pull you together again.

The tension wasn’t a thread anymore; it was a blazing cord wrapping around you both, tightening, scorching. There was something destructive in the energy flowing between you, a force threatening to consume anything in its path. Every exchanged glance, every shared breath felt like a step closer to the edge. It wasn’t simple desire, nor just anger—it was a ravenous hunger that wouldn’t settle for halves.

"She’s fire," Wanda thought, but the witch within her laughed, dark and satisfied. "And we are the gasoline."

If you touched again, it would be the end of control, of rationality. It would be the beginning of something deeper, wilder. A kiss wouldn’t be enough; it would only be the first crack in a dam ready to burst. You could feel it, as if every fiber of your being screamed to give in to the chaos, to the heat, to the inevitable.

Wanda averted her gaze for just a moment, as if trying to hold onto a shred of reason, but it was useless. You were there, a pulsing paradox of strength and vulnerability, and she wanted to devour every piece of it. Bites and kisses, skin against skin until the boundaries between you both were reduced to ashes. The thought was so visceral it made the air around her hum with untamed magic.

"We’ll burn together," the witch whispered, like a promise, like a sentence. "And it will be glorious."

And when Wanda’s eyes met yours again, she knew. It didn’t matter how many doors knocked or how many minutes she tried to buy with interruptions. The fire had already begun.

~*~

Call 911! A lesbian is having tachycardia longing for a Wanda like this!!

Tag list <3

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@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

[loves0phelia]

Hi! can i request miguel x model reader. She’s apart of the spider verse but does modeling on the side nd she’s really famous :-)

Canon

Summery: Being a model and a spider woman makes your life really complicated.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: violence/fighting, angst, grammar mistakes

A/N: This is probably not what you had in mind at all but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx

You always liked modelling. At the age of 3, you dressed up as Cinderella and walked in your aunt’s May living room, moving your small hips side to side and flipping your hair. At the age of 5 Aunt May brought you shopping and every time you tried on a new piece of clothing you came out of the dressing room to show it off.

At the age of 7 your parents learned about your new passion and being the greedy people that they were, they started hiring agent after agent to control your every move. 

Your aunt tried to talk them out of it but they never stopped forcing you into gigs that you shouldn't have been in. You thought they only wanted to make your dream of becoming a model come to life but they only wanted the money. They pushed you around every stage and you became successful but you never knew until you grew up and picked up a journal your parents were hiding in their offices and saw yourself on the front cover.

You didn't know how to react when they died during a plane crash on their way to Japan to make a deal with your modelling career. You thought being thrown around by your parents was a normal childhood, you were lost. 

When you got bitten by the spider that turned you into the one and only Spider-Woman of your universe. Your life took a drastic turn.

 The freedom of being a spider person brought you so much happiness. Aunt May had taken you in after the passing of your parents and now that she was in charge of you, she made sure you would only model if you desired to. Nobody would force you. 

Since it was still your dream and you didn't experience the real pleasure of your passion you decided to start from scratch. You forgot your old professional life, the life your parents forced on you and started fresh. You got yourself a new agent that became your best friend. You told her absolutely everything. And you learned to be confident.  

You saved the city at night and lived your dream during the day. 

What was supposed to be a normal night of patrolling and chilling at the top of a building turned into a multiverse mess? 

Your Hair was flowing in the air as you hung upside down eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich when your spidey sense started tingling. Your head snapped towards Times Square and you saw lightning bolts strike multiple times. Some were electric blue and some were neon yellow.

You ditched your lunch and quickly pulled down your mask. With your purple-ish webs, you swung to the scene. 

The guy had his hood up but you could see his glowing skin through the vest he was wearing. It was like his veins were filled with electric fuel. He was absorbing every possible electricity making everyone scream in fear. New York was usually intensely bright and now every light was fading. Your senses were tingling every time a civilian was getting close to being struck with a lightning bolt so while trying to understand what he was, you saved every passing stranger.

“Hey, you might want to stop doing that!” You shouted over the afraid people after putting down a small child into his mom's arms and tried to reason with the electric thief.

“I don't know what is happening. Everything feels so different here.” The guy growled and continued absorbing with his hands when he started yelling in pain. His body glitched like television static. He stopped and breathed heavily as if this pain had angered him.

“What the fuck” You whispered and curiously your hand lifted to touch a metal pole that was vibrating with electricity.

A bright orange web caught your wrist and pulled you away. you looked at where it came from and saw a portal. After a couple of seconds, the web shone brighter and made a pulsing sound and a Spiderman came through it. his web was still attached to you when he spoke.

“Do not touch that, you could get electrified” He said calmly, almost too calmly.

“Who the hell are you? How did you come through that? Do you know that guy?” you rambled out your question and he groaned under his mask. 

“basta con las preguntas! (enough with the questions)” After having an A + in Spanish during high school you were confident you understood what he had said.

You rolled your eyes underneath your mask and went into action. You disconnected every powerline above the buildings and found an underground entrance to stop any power under there to try and make him weaker. You came back up and you saw that the other spider man was about to get struck and he did not react a little bit. Your senses screamed at you.

You caught his waist with your webs and tugged him to you making his back contact with your chest. He was so tall you couldn't even see when the bolt that was previously about to hit him, exploded on the ground.

“Do you not have spider sense or what? You could've died and I don't even know you!” you screamed and let him free of your webs. With a frustrated sigh, he called out to a girl named Lyla. Your brows Furrowed, now who the hell is Lyla? you thought.

“What in the...” you whispered when a small lady appeared by his shoulder.

“Call for back up” 

“magic words?” she teased and leaned closer to his face. You just stood there completely confused.

“Now. Lyla” Even with his mask on, you could see his grumpy expression.

“You got to say them” She smiled brightly, unfazed by his grumpiness.

“call for backup, please” 

“Yeah, I already did 5 minutes ago” She laughed at him and disappeared into thin air.

“UGH, you always do this!” as if on cue the same orange portal from earlier opened 5 meters away from you and a pregnant spider woman riding a motorcycle came through it.

“And I thought I was special,” you said before you three turned back to face the villain. 

“It's time you go back to earth 199999,” The blue spider said, once again your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is Earth 199999?

Knowing it wasn't time for questions, your webs came out of your wrist attached to the arms of the electric creature trying to restrain him from using his powers. but he was too powerful and it was useless. His arms ripped apart your webs making his electric blue fuel travel to your wrist, frying your left web shooter. Even though you had less power now, you noticed how the lightning reached for something in the air. In almost a second a helicopter came crashing down at the speed of light. 

with only one wrist to shoot your webs, you managed to catch it, all on your own making a bouncy platform of web between the buildings. You rushed to the door and pulled it open.

The civilians thanked you for saving their lives and quickly ran away from the scene.

“He's unbeatable!” the pregnant woman who tried wrapping her webs around him screamed.

slowly you looked around trying to find a solution. you blocked out every noise and your eyes landed on a fire hydrant.

“Move away!” you screamed at the two spiders and they looked at you like you were crazy, but seeing you had a plan, they dropped what they were doing.

with your force, you pulled away from the ground the red fire hydrant and water splashed everywhere. Left, right, up, down, and on the villain. He screamed and glitched again as the water came in contact with his skin. He yelled in pain as if water burned like acid.

The flashing lights of Times Square stopped and everything became bright again as he fell to the ground. Smoke was coming out of his body and his skin stopped glowing and went back to its original color.

“He's not defeated, we have to send him back to his original earth so his Spiderman can deal with it,” The man said before tapping down on the watch tied to his wrist. A portal opened in front of us and the villain was pushed back into his universe.

“It can't be that easy, right?” you were standing there as if nothing had ever happened it seemed impossible.

“It is that easy. He was in the wrong universe and by sending him back, his very own Peter Parker would take care of him” Both of them started walking away and you stayed behind so unbelievably confused. Peter Parker? That kid you knew in high school? Peter Parker? 

“what about her?” you didn't hear when the woman spoke to Miguel.

“she found the solution and she did all that with one web shooter” she added to her previous sentence.

“She's careless, she was almost electrified. If I wasn't there this earth would have fallen to the ground” he grumbled.

“Remember the time when you saved Gwen and you were almost attacked by that thing made out of paper because you weren't paying attention?” she reminded him.

“We all make mistakes, Miguel. We need someone like her in the team.” without saying one more word she walked through the portal while he stayed behind. He turned around to look at you. Your arms were at your side and you watched the damage the villain left in your city.

“y/n,” he said gently and you jumped before turning.

“how- how do you know my name” You touched your face to make sure your mask was still on. It was.

“I am Miguel O'Hara. Leader of Spider Society and dedicated to the security of the multiverse” You looked up at him as he spoke.

“I know all spidermen and spider women of every universe, including you. This watch will allow you to travel between the earth's freely” he extended his arm towards you with the orange band in his hand.

you took it from his hand and put it on your wrist. it glowed blue then yellow and red as it was adapting to you.

—--

A few months later you settled in Earth 2099 at the Spider Society, you learned you were far from being the only Spider-woman. You managed to continue working in your universe but it was really difficult.  And you were also informed about canon events. 

“Miguel?” you knock and enter his lab. His big platform was up in the air as he worked on whatever he needed to work on.

“I'm just letting you know I'm going back to my universe for a few days. My agent told me I have an important gig with Vogue” You smiled as you yelled up. Vogue was always your biggest company deal.

his platform began getting down. “Are you sure modelling is a good idea? Now that your spider woman, one of your fans could discover your identity” he did not look at you once which was odd for Miguel. Usually, he had no problem talking to you. Maybe he was just grumpy today.

“It will be fine. I had no problem before” 

“Are you sure you can trust everyone who knows about your identity?” he asked, now you were confused.

“Of course, only my aunt May and my best friend know about me” he shook his head disapprovingly but let you go back home anyway. the entire time while getting photographed for the cover, you wondered why he was asking such questions. You continued your day full of autographs and interviews and you had a lot of fun.

“I'm home Aunt May” You entered your house and heard nothing but the TV playing.

“May?” you asked louder and made your way to the living room. 

You saw her sitting there emotionless and bells tingled in your head. You knew something bad happened. Your eyes shifted from your aunt to the TV she was so concentrated on and saw yourself beside a picture of you as spider woman. You grabbed the remote and lifted the volume.

“An anonymous source just confirmed to us, that the well-known model Y/n Y/l/n is the vigilante that has been roaming our street. She is the one who has killed various civilians instead of saving them! She is the killer who has been terrorizing our lives!” on cue a loud knock came to the door.

“Police!” your heart pounded in your ears and your aunt stood up. Her hands came up to your face and she held your cheeks gently. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You have to go. Leave, and don't come back. They can't find you” she said in a gentle voice and the police officers were beginning to try forcing the door open.

your feet were frozen in place but she grabbed your spider suit that was sitting on the couch and pushed it in your hands.

“Go. I love you Y/n” She kissed your forehead and as a tear left your eye you clicked your watch to open a portal and disappeared inside of it. You were sobbing and you fell to your knees. Who could have betrayed you? Why would they call you a killer? you've never killed anyone all you did was protect your city, your universe. 

a hand came to your shoulder and you turned to see Miguel standing over you. He looked at you with pity.

“You knew that was gonna happen didn't you?” you let out another sob before he nodded confirming your assumption.

“Why didn't you tell me?! Everyone thinks I'm a killer, aunt may is in trouble. I could've stopped it” You were angry at him.

“I tried mi vida, I tried to warn you by asking if you were sure but it didn't work and I couldn't tell you directly. it would have disrupted the canon and, It's my job to assure the canon stays intact.” he sinks to his knees next to you and holds you against his chest.

his lips connected with your forehead in a comforting manner.

“What am I going to do? I have nowhere to go, no more dreams, no more job. I knew a secret identity and fame wasn't a good match but I didn't think it would go that way. My life is gone ” You wiped your face but it was useless since your salty tears were still coming out of your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” he whispered in your hair. Even though it had angered you that he didn't warn you clearly about what was going to happen, you knew he had no choice.

Just like you have no choice but to stay here on Earth 2099 with him. 

At the same time in every other universe you existed in, you were choosing Spiderman over modelling out of love.

Even though being a model was everything you ever wanted. You would have ended up choosing Spiderman even in this one. 

[podcaststatic]

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me. I do apologise for the radio silence.

[ladyveronikawrites]

AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A GOOD TIME

Lady Midnight's Kinktober in the Concrete Jungle 2024

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Jolly Karlsson x OC x Noah Sebastian

Cw- masked men, roleplaying, sensory deprivation: blindfolds, scarf as bondage, unprotected vaginal sex, mean ex boyfriend, double penetration, oral sex (male and female receiving), mild thigh slapping, spitting, vaginal fingering,  jerking off, facial, cum eating,  revenge kink if you squint, getting caught, voyeurism, THICK DICK NICK, one hot foursome, If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: a little self-indulgent fic, Star Wars characters ahead - Nick as Kylo Ren makes me feral lol - pärla means 'gem' in Swedish

AO3 || Wattpad || Word Count: 3k || masterlist || Taglist sign up

dividers by saradika-graphics

Ruby swipes on her signature red lip as she looks over her outfit in the full-length mirror by the front door. She adjusts her boring brown Jedi robes Nathan insisted she wear to juxtapose his Darth Maul. She scoffs to herself knowing damn well he has no idea who Darth Maul is and probably found the costume at Spirit Halloween. Reluctantly she sighs, the distant dream of her Sabine Wren cosplay lying buried under clothes in her closet never to see the light of day.

Her phone chimes, ripping her from her brief moment of sadness. 

She frantically types ‘OMW’ as she slides into the Uber.

Nathan <Ru, I have been waiting for over an hour.>

She can hear Nathan’s anger through the screen, silently sending a prayer for the driver to go faster. Ruby and Nathan were high school sweethearts that turned into an on-and-off-and-on-again situationship while they were away in college, but when Ruby dropped out of college to pursue music full-time as an indie artist - things went sour really fast. He never understood her passion for music, too self-absorbed in his reputation at the Ivy League university he got into thanks to his wealthy parents. 

Her fingers freeze over the screen as her heart shatters into a thousand pieces. 

Nathan <You know what, since it seems like you don’t care about MY time, we are done. For real this time. Don’t even bother coming.>

Tears stream down her face as she powers down her phone and shoves it into her purse. He can go fuck himself, Ruby thinks to herself - and she gets an even better idea. 

“S-sorry but can you take me downtown instead?” she asks, her voice wavering slightly as the realization sinks in. She takes a deep breath, drying her tear-stained cheeks as the driver pulls up to Nathan’s most hated bar- which happens to be her favorite, Third Base. 

The bar is bustling as she walks in. It’s been updated since she had been there, all those months ago when Nathan was doing a semester abroad in Rome. Ruby instantly fell in love with the quaint charm of the dive bar. It didn’t help that the bar owner was ruggedly handsome, the kind of personality that was homegrown from a small town. She ached for the slow stroll of home instead of the hustle and bustle of city life. Festive Halloween touches add to the ambiance and that’s when she realizes other patrons are also adorned in costume.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” his familiar twang wraps around her like a warm blanket. She should probably be sobbing into her wine glass in a rose-scented bubble bath in the comfort of her home instead she replies with “Whiskey neat, double.” She notices he’s the only one not dressed up, even his bartender is sporting a risque outfit. 

Ruby is about to mention the lack of costume when he asks “That kinda night?” Ruby downs the drink without a word, slides off the metal bar stool, and makes her way to the old jukebox in the corner of the bar. She scrolls through the CDs not really impressed with the selection. 

“Not finding what you’re looking for?” A distorted voice has Ruby turning. She opens her mouth to grumble about the lackluster music selection, but her brain turns to static. She’s met face-to-face with Kylo Ren. 

“I-” 

“Here, you might like this.” Another man dressed up as a Mandalorian pushes between them. Ruby stands in awe as the two men fight over a CD. Her awe turns into appreciation as she notices the small details in the homemade costume. Whoever’s in the suit spent hours making it.

“Can I buy you another drink?”  A deep voice comes from the bar.

She turns and freezes. “N-nathan? How’d yo-” She is silenced by a red-painted finger as the man towers over her. Realization strikes her that this man is too tall to be Nathan. 

“Nathan isn’t here Jedi.” Boldly, the stranger spits in her face - playing into the villainous role - yet Ruby can’t help but be even more aroused. 

Ruby finds herself being shoved into the back seat of an SUV. Not in a kidnappy way but in a rushed I-want-to-devour-you-way. The look Darth Maul is giving her has her pussy throbbing. She slides her way in as Kylo and Mando hop in the front. Warm lips pressed against her and; at this moment, she couldn't care less if she was covered in red and black body paint by the end of this. She pulls him in closer as his gloved hand teases the waistband of her leggings. Her head thuds against the window when he slips his fingers inside her as his tongue explores her mouth. Suddenly, his long finger slams into the sweet spot and she bites down on his bottom lip, hard. 

He groans, “You gonna surrender, Jedi?” 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” she whines as he finger fucks her all the way to her apartment. By the time they get to her apartment, his gloves are drenched and the back seat is damp where she was sitting, but Ruby could give a single fuck as in the span of 30 minutes she had already had more satisfying orgasms than Nathan could ever give her. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the thrill? Probably both. If one of them can satisfy her alone with his fingers imagine all three of them.

“You wanna do this Jedi?” Kylo Ren asks once in Ruby’s apartment.

“It’s not every night you get three masked men in your apartment,” she smirks her hands roaming over his black robes. 

“You’ll have to wear this,” the foreign Mandalorian slides a blindfold over her eyes. 

“That’s fine,” her breath catches as her hands drift up to grip Ren’s mask. “Can I take this off?” 

Abruptly, she finds herself pressed against a solid chest behind her and warm lips devour her own. She tangles her fingers into long hair and he groans when she yanks. 

“I was not expecting long hair, but it’s so soft.” Ruby twirls a strand around her finger. Her hand cups his cheek and pulls him into another kiss.

“Ren’s not the only one here Jedi.” Her heartbeat skyrockets at the memory of Darth Maul in the backseat of the car. The way he towered over her, his eyes dark with lust, and his voice made her pussy flutter.

 The mattress groans with the added weight and Ruby’s mind begins to spiral. She yelps with teeth and stubble brush against the skin on her inner thigh. Fuck, Mando has facial hair that's fucking hot. Ruby giggles as he inches closer to her core and at the same time remembers how Nathan can only grow a pathetic and patchy beard. She squirms, aching for roughness against her pussy..

“Oh you’re a feisty one,” Maul whispers in her ear as he settles down beside her. Suddenly, her hands are bound loosely with something smooth and soft. Her brain rationalizes one of her summer scarves that hangs from the hooks over the door. A part of her hopes it’s her favorite one, the black one with skulls. 

“Our red hot Ruby.” he nips at her ear and at the same time one of them pinches her nipple. Ruby yelps at the sudden pain, endorphins surging through her body. “You like a little pain with your pleasure, hm?” 

Smack

A large hand makes contact with her inner thigh. “Fuck! Yes,” Ruby yelps. “Yes, I like pain ‘n pleasure!”

Lips brush against her cheek. “Our little pain slut.”

“Our little pain slut,” Mando mumbles against her throbbing clit as he sinks two thick fingers inside her. 

“Fuck,” she groans as her pussy walls stretch from the invasion. 

“God Ruby… have you ever- “ he trails off, lost in thought. He sucks her clit between his lips and thrusts his fingers into the spongy sweet spot. Ruby writhes as the coil winds tighter in her core. Large hands clamp down on her shoulders to keep her steady as her body starts to tremble. In a silent scream, the dam breaks, and euphoria floods through her body as she releases herself onto Mando’s face. She writhes oversensitive and overwhelmed as he laps up everything she gives him. 

“Little, pärla” Mando pants, “You are divine.” 

Ruby finds herself being pulled gently to sit upright. “Here’s some water,” Ren says softly, handing her a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks warm to the kind gesture. “Nathan never took care of me like this.” Her lips press into a thin line and her shoulders slump forward as her mind flashes each disappointing experience. 

A warm hand settles on the small of her back, gently rubbing up and down. “Ain’t nothin’ but a good time, hm?” Mando whispers seductively, his breath is hot against the shell of her ear.  

Ruby briefly wonders if that would have been the track he chose at the bar. Her heart flutters at the parallels and she enthusiastically adds, “Hell yeah!” 

She squeals at first when hands grip her hips and hoist her onto his lap. His hard cock

“You ready for a good time, sweetheart?” Ren asks before pulling her into a heated kiss. His free hand roams over her tits as another set of hands rubs up and down her thighs. Sandwiched between the two men her heart races with anticipation. 

“Got any lube, darling?” Mando asks as Ren pulls her up onto her knees. 

“In… the… drawer…”  she replies between kisses. Her heart leaps into her throat when a cold and wet finger circles the tense muscle of her asshole.

“Can Mando fill you up back there while Ren plays with your pretty pussy?” Maul’s baritone makes her spine tingle. Mando’s finger stills at her back entrance and Ren nips at her other ear. 

“Can I watch?” Maul asks, pulling the blindfold off and Ruby’s eyes widen, taking in the sight before her. Ren’s stormy blue-gray eyes captivate her first, then his soft smile and tint of pink on his cheeks. She can’t resist carding her hand through his hair, so smooth. He leans into her touch, entranced by the gentleness. The world around them darkness slightly and she briefly forgets about the other two. She could stay here, locked in his gentle gaze but her eyes begin to wonder. Her other hand traces the tattoos on his shoulder to his wrist where in the corner of her vision she spies his large thick cock. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand grips her wrist and twists her sideways. His fingers entwine with hers as the other grips her chin. “Don’t forget about us, Jedi.” His deep brown eyes are piercing and she notices that his face is the only exposed skin free of paint. His abdominal muscles flex as her gaze lowers, she huffs disappointed that he is clothed from the waist down.

Her eyes widen at the sound of a deep moan. Maul tilts her head back so she can see the man behind her. His grasp loosens completely and she twists her body more to see Mando better. 

“Hello, pärla,” he moans her nickname, his eyelids flutter closed as he strokes himself. 

“Looks like Mando’s ready. Are you?” Maul asks. 

Ruby remains fixed on watching Mando touch himself. She mutters a breathless, “Yeah.” 

“Come back to your supreme leader.” A tinge of pain pricks at Ruby’s scalp when Ren fists her hair and tugs. She moans as the pain melts into pleasure. 

“Finally showing me your dark side, Ren,” Ruby smirks. “I like it.” 

“Good.” Ren crowds into Ruby’s space, thrusting his hand around her throat. He squeezes slightly then releases pressure completely. “Lean back.”

Ruby adjusts her stance to straddle Mando’s hips. Together, Mando and Ren guide her to lower herself onto him. Maul groans beside them.  The stretch takes her breath away, if only for a moment as the hand tightens around her neck and lips crash onto hers. Ruby succumbs to the sensations letting Mando set the pace while she battles for breath with the fallen Jedi. Ren shoves her back against Mando’s chest by the throat. She sucks in the air when he releases his hand, chest heaving with every inhalation. 

“My turn,” Ren growls, nipping at her earlobe. He squeezes the soft tissue of her breasts as his mouth trails kisses down her torso. Grinning he spreads her legs apart wider and his lips gently kiss her tummy before descending through her silken folds. Mando thrusts into her as Ren teases her other hole with his tongue and then sucks at her clit. She’s teetering on the edge of bliss when it is abruptly ripped away.

“No cumming yet darling.” Mando stills inside her just as Ren flattens his tongue licking one final time before pulling away. 

“Do you want a taste?” Ren asks, his lips ghosting over hers. Her mouth drops open to respond but without warning, fingers slide their way in. Disappointment sours her stomach when Ren leans over and kisses Mando. Greedily, she flicks her tongue around Ren’s fingers in hopes of vying for his attention. 

“Is our Ruby a little jealous she is getting attention?” Maul laughs. In the heat of the moment, Ruby had forgotten all about him. “No… you aren’t jealous, but your needy little cunt is.” Desperation flashes through her as she bites down on Ren’s fingers. Ren huffs a laugh against Mando’s lips, 

“I heard that cunt is still needy, hm?” Ren tilts his head, his gaze scanning over her body. A small whine leaks out of her mouth. He slides his fingers out of her mouth and onto her throat. His lips curl into a devilish smirk, “You want more?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” Ruby’s lashes flutter when Ren sinks into her dripping pussy. 

“So tight-” Ren groans.

“Dude, I can feel you,” Mando gasps when Ren bottoms out.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maul muses.

Ren holds her steady as Mando slowly thrusts in and out of her. 

“Feeling good?” Maul whispers lowly in her ear.

“S-so good, so full.. he's so big” Her words melt into nothingness when Ren flexes inside her.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna come… don’t-” Ruby whines as Mando and Ren alternate thrusting into her ass and cunt.

“Ru, you home? I saw your car out front.” Her ex’s voice booms through the apartment, his words slur together in one long word. But she can’t be bothered as pressure builds in her core. 

“Shhh,” Mando shushes her with a hand to her mouth

“Maybe,” Maul leans over and whispers turning Ruby slightly towards him. Grinning he offers his eager cock to her and she eagerly nods. Ren smacks Maul in the arms when he moans as Ruby takes him into her mouth. 

The bedroom door swings open and Maul’s cock throbs between her lips. Ren and Mando are too far gone to care when -

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Ruby sighs against Maul’s softening cock slipping it from her mouth while she is still being pounded between two beautiful men. It takes all of her strength not to come when she leans around Ren to stare Nathan dead in the eyes. 

“Fuck! You!” she groans as she comes, flipping Nathan one and then sucking on each of her middle fingers. Her eyes roll back as she catches a glimpse of him stalking out the door. When the door slams shut she sinks into Mando as euphoria floods her body.

“Damn, that was hot!” Maul says impressed. Ruby peers up through her lashes at Maul who’s stoking his now hard cock. 

“Yeah?” Ruby cocks an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she pulls his free hand and sucks on his middle finger. 

Maul sucks in a curse. “Damn girl, fuck.” Ruby bites down at Maul’s finger, not painfully hard, but enough when her hair is yanked back and she is pulled off. 

“Wh-”

“Open up,” Mando commands as he grips her jaw forcing her mouth open. Ruby opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out with anticipation. Mando lowers his hands to rest around her throat squeezing gently. Ren tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to suck on her nipple. She jolts when he bites down, her pussy walls clenching around his semi-hard cock. Mando slides his hand down her middle to circle her clit as Ren plays with her tits. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Maul curses as he splatters his cum all over Ruby’s face. Small whimpers come from her open mouth as another orgasm wrecks through her. She swallows then licks her lips and smiles up at Maul before pulling him closer to lick and suck at his softening cock. She hisses when Ren pulls off her tit with an audible pop. 

Ruby hums satisfiedly, leaning back against Mando, as Ren slides out of her. Before he can say another word, she mumbles, “Baby wipes in the bathroom down the hall.” 

She doesn’t open her eyes but sinks further into bliss as Mando rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You did so well for us Pärla,” he whispers in her ear. All she can muster is a hummed agreement. 

“Let me clean you up,” Maul offers when Ren returns. She blinks to find soft brown eyes and a dazzling smile to greet her. “Thank you,” she whispers. “All of you,” she adds when Ren takes Maul’s place in front of her to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. As Ren and Maul redress, Mando steals more kisses as he helps Ruby up to dress her. 

“Here,” Maul hands Ruby her glass of water. “You can call me Noah.” 

“Hi, Noah.” she flashes him a dazzling smile in the afterglow.

“Food?” Ren asks before adding,” The name’s Nick and he’s Jolly.” 

“No please- you guys can go, I’ll be alright.” Ruby dismisses, gesturing to the door.  

“Please?” Jolly wraps her up in his arms. “Dinner and a movie and we will leave after that.”

“We just don’t want you to be alone,” Nick adds. 

“Fine.” Ruby relents as her stomach rumbles. “Thai food and the new Deadpool movie.” 

The four of them settle on blankets and pillows in the living room with Ruby in the middle. She finds herself leaning against Jolly’s shoulder and for the first time in a long time has finally felt at peace.

👑Royal Readers👑

@deathblacksmoke @mysticdoodlez @sitkowski @snarkysolaris @collapsedglasshouses @shilohrosechicken

@cookiesupplier @iknownothingpeople @dominuslunae @agravemisstake @the-ancient-fae

@itsafullmoon @philomenie @th4t-em0-k1d @baddestomens @rumoured-whispers

@blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @tearfallpixie @nerdraging4point0

@omensbrainrot @99png @awkwardalex @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @lobolocaamo

[christinebloodwrittings]

Dream a little dream of me.

Request: I had an idea for you to accept yourself and feel comfortable doing so, of course! 💕

Well, what if the reader was a human from an alternate universe who fell into the world of Hazbin... And the reader has a secret, that she can use magic, but refuses to use her unique magic, until the day of war. .. The reader hates wars and seeing her friends getting hurt, so use her unique magic, where she summons magical flowers that cause drowsiness, and with that, making everyone in hell and the angels sleep peacefully and as a bonus, healing everyone who are suffering while they sleep (The reader's plan is to make everyone sleep until the extermination time ends, so that no one gets hurt or dies)... And in their dreams, people would be living their greatest desires and dreams come true, having and discovering what they really want, even if they refuse to admit it when they're awake...

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader Summary: A decision made in between desperation and love, to protect everyone reader makes everyone sleep, while she made sure everyone was taken care of. Warnings: Blood, violence.

(The real ones will acknowledge 2 references) Also I tried, but I simply can't write yandere characters XD it came out cringy.

You felt a slight distant feeling in the spirits surrounding the hotel. A battle was coming, not quite a war, but no less deadly. You sat in the windowsill, watching the red city thrive with life and evil, unaware of the affairs dealt within the hotel’s walls.

Sorrow was not an emotion you would attach to a situation quite like that one, but thinking in all the princess has done for you, and how open minded she was of your condition and your posture against violence, you couldn’t help to feel a great deal of sadness, contemplating an untimely death for everyone inside.

“Y/n, I know you had told me before, but would you please consider changing your mind?” earlier, the princess pleaded, her hand caressing your arm. Your dexterous ability with magic was clear to her, so she tried to bend your arm – figuratively – to get you to join the battle.

“I’m sorry princess, I cannot” you watched the sadness wash over her eyes. Her girlfriend offered some reassurance after she walked away from you, not wishing to press the matter onto you any further.

“What was it like, in your dimension?” Husk asked, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning. “Violent, dark, strict” as if you could describe your birthplace, not quite like a home but a prison, a place that seemed like hell, just with a tad of more fire.

“I dare bet that you used to be an angel, dearest” the radio demon slid onto a barstool, taking the one closest to you. “What makes you say that?” he took your hand off your drink, rising it to his lips, feeling each and every single one of the cold scales on your knuckles against his skin. “There’s not a single demon in hell with your capabilities, specially those to resist the call to freely infringe pain” in another life, maybe, but seeing what your anger could do, you simply couldn’t.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Radio Demon” he made a static sound as he chuckled, finding your cheekiness adorable. “Wasn’t it?” he still held your hand in his, enjoying the ridges on the back of your hand. “In your tongue? No” you made your scales stand in point, prickling one of Alastor’s fingers, which made him wince and hiss.

“I wish you bests of lucks, Alastor. May fortune be on your hand when you slay that ignorant so-called angel” you saluted him as you would do to a soldier or a knight. He watched you go up the stairs, his favorite time of the day was when he could just watch you flee.

The gentle sway of your hips had a vice grasp on his sanity. Your eyes were those of a snake, captivating and mysterious, with the most beautiful color he had ever seen, such combination couldn’t have an earthly name, he once thought. Your skin seemed soft and undamaged, yet it hid millions of little scales that shined subtly with the fire’s light.

If it weren’t for your black crooked horns that made a crown at the height of your temple, and the black bat-wings that you dragged behind on back, you could be mistaken for a divine creation. Alastor knows he made that mistake upon first meeting you.

How easy was for you to make his powers flee him, and a chill to travel up his spine to the tip of his prongs. He not only met arousal for the first time, but also attraction.

You are intelligent, Alastor was aware of that from moment one. That's why he knew that you would never choose a sinner of his level as a life partner, you were made for greatness, for something far out of his reach to become. If his pride didn't get in the way, he would easily kneel at your feet, and make you his, even if he had to beg you for it. But his pride and denial of his own feelings was as big and vast as hell.

But oh, how he loved to see you go. It was a spell itself, the way you took his breath away as you disappeared inside the corridor.

The next day, the battle was freely fought in the front garden of the hotel. In your room you kept the little creatures safe, while you kept yourself safe. But there's only so much a person can take, so much explosion and dismemberment, it made you jump out of your hiding place and take to the field.

“ENOUGH!” you hit the earth with your fist, not breaking it, but your green power made grass grow up from the dry and dead soil of hell. Then, red little flowers bloomed, the spores made everyone who smelled it fall asleep, including Alastor and Adam on the ceiling.

“What is this magic?” Lute remained on the sky, covering her mouth with a cloth. “Poppies, they’re just asleep” you flew to meet her level, she didn’t take that too nicely since she rushed to attack you with her sword, “So you can kill us faster?”, you were quick to avoid her advances.

“Not at all, please pick up your wounded sisters and leave” you gave her the chance, “Why, what makes you believe I will-” you summoned your spear, made of dark magic, and pointed her neck with it.

“If you fall to your blinded nonsense and attack me once more, I will retaliate” you mere poked her crown with the flat blade before making it go away, “If I do you will be the last one to die” the aura surrounding you, made her wings twitch. “Let’s see about that” was what she muttered before launching herself at you.

One of the properties of the sleeping poppies, was that they provide whoever that smell them a pleasing slumber, dreaming with what they desire the most.

For Charlie it was the hotel finally working.

For Vaggie, it was Charlie happily married to her.

For Angel Dust, it was to be free of Valentino’s grasp. Husk shared that exact vision.

Everything was dark. Guided by the smell of humidity and damp earth, Alastor walked blindly, the only sound was his own footsteps and his heart beating in his ears.

He felt short of breath when he heard a second pair of footsteps behind him. He quickly ran, spotting a light between the trees, without knowing why, he followed it. His chest was heaving painfully, and each gulp of air felt like fire down his throat.

When he reached the light, he felt himself fall, and when he opened his eyes Alastor was laying on his back, green grass under him, and a cool refreshing breeze softly moving the tuffs of hair on top of his ears. He hadn’t seen a blue sky in a century, he didn’t even remembered he missed the feeling of the sun on his brow. But he did.

“Earth to Alastor!” he looked to his right, and there you were, “Hey mon cher, penny for your thoughts?” you had a fork on your hand with a strawberry on it. The intimate gesture of you feeding him something seemed surreal, but he neverminded, opened his mouth and relished in the sweetness, even though he wasn’t a fan of sweets.

“It’s a lovely day” he was unsure of what to say, one moment he was with Adam, and in a blink of an eye, you were with him. “It sure is, we haven’t had one like this in a while, huh?” he pressed his hand on your cheek, not believing for a second this fake sense of peace in the air.

“This isn’t real” he whispered for himself, but you caught on his words nonetheless. “Wasn’t trying to convince you otherwise” your voice was so gentle, had you always been like this?, “Then, where are we?” he felt a tug on his face, his smile, he didn’t noticed he wasn’t smiling.

“You tell me, my spell reflects the desires of the person in their dreams, so where are we?”  he didn’t recognized the place, It could well have been some postcard image, he liked to see them on the way to the studio, but he wasn't sure.

“On a hill…wait a dream, what about the battle?” what about his body? Although, everything was so idyllic, but in no way did he, after being killed in battle, ascend to heaven. It didn't even cross his mind.

“I’m taking care of everyone as we speak, I’ll be done in a minute” Outside, you were flying over the battlefield, while looking for a way to immobilize Lute without killing her, she made it hard to do so by moving a lot, and attacking you.

Alastor sensed your eyes and your mind were far away, given the stare into nothingness you had. “We lost?” he startled you, so you gave him a rushed answer, entering a separate state of mind connected to his dream.

“No” he was confused, why would you put everyone to sleep after denying the use of your powers? What was the reason of the change of heart?. “Then?” he tried searching in your face, any sign of anything, his ego was dying to know if he managed to kill the winged-wretch of Adam.  

“I heard all the screaming, then…your voice, I just couldn’t anymore” You couldn't handle the thought of losing more people, and dammed as he could be, you had taking a liking over the radio demon’s antiques and old personality.

Your face contorted into a grimace of pain, all of a sudden Lute had attempted to plunge her blade into you, but failed only by a few inches, making a piercing wound on your torso nonetheless, but not in the way she wanted.

“What is going on?” The cuts, given Lute’s advances, were starting to reflect on your skin, staining your white sundress. “I got distracted, is all” you did your best to disregard your situation, making a cover that soon was shattered by another whimper of pain on your part.

Your handle on the situation grew weaker by the minute, until one of her movements graced your wing, forcing you to land forcefully on the Hotel’s ceiling. “I'm going to take advantage of your curse, and when I'm done killing everyone here, I'll come for you” she laughed with a sinister tone.

There was so much hatred in the heart of that angel, it surprised you, you even wondered if he shared the sky in your world with this one, and I hope that's not the case. You were surprised at how cruel a divine being could be.

A ravenous roar echoed through the air; you were immediately held by a huge hand with enormous claws. You looked down in search of Alastor, who had been asleep for a while in a bed made of poppies, but he was not there, and in his place was the beast with red hair, huge jaws, and eyes like...radio dials.

“Holy fucking hell, Alastor!?” the beast took one look at you before pressing you near his wounded chest, as if he was trying to shield you. Lute had to fly backwards, because of Alastor and also because Lucifer made it to the scene.

Seeing his daughter on the ground made him think the worse and he took it on not-so-poor Lute, killing her after a lot of punches. “Ah, sir?” the king of hell took a side look at you, his blood pumping with raw anger, “It’s a sleeping spell, she’s asleep” as if nothing happened, Lucifer’s mood shifted like a light switch, “Could you undo it?” his tone was a bit too stern despite his much better mood, which caused Alastor to growl in warning.

“Relax Albert, I’m not gonna hurt your girl” due to Lucifer's inappropriate insinuating gesture, Alastor tried to crush him with his free hand, failing due to the obvious advantages of the fallen angel, but he still received the message.

After waking everyone up, kicking Adam's ass back to heaven, and a quick remodel of the Hotel, everyone was able to return to their respective rooms to tend to their injuries. Alastor was the first to move towards his room, with you still in his hand.

Still in his large, demonic appearance he entered the room. You didn't remember him having a bed the last time you saw his room, and yet there was one, with red satin sheets, in which he was kind enough to gently place you on.

“Alastor, are you alright?” His size became more normal as he walked to the bathroom, as he did so his fur also began to dissipate, and if it hadn't been for his adorable little tail, you would’ve seen his full naked ass on his way to hide in the bathroom.

“Is your wing alright?” he asked, out of breath and seemingly upset, but it was hard to know from your distance. “I asked first” a robe few from the closet to the bathroom, then Alastor walked back into the room.

“I’m fine, your turn” you knew damn sure he was not okay, but you weren’t going to press the matter, yet. “It’s not bleeding anymore” you showed him the cut on your extended wing, his eye twitched then proceeded to ask, “And your body?” given the extensive cuts on your cheek, arms and legs.

“Alastor what the hell happened back there? I appreciate you getting defensive, it was a bit attractive, not going to lie- I mean, how the fuck did you woke up?!” It hit you harder than a train when you put two and two together.

"I don't know, I just did" the fact that his dream started out as a nightmare, the scenario similar to how he died, and then there was you. It was unconscious to wake up and transform, but the fact that he took you in his hands and had the intention to protect you was not only visceral but also something that he felt was right.

“That’s impossible” he shook his head at your words, "Listen, in your spell, was it my head making you talk or...were you really there?" He sat in front of you, bandages in hand that he magically made appear, ready to tend to your wounds. "What do you think?" he took your hand, watching your inky black blood coloring your skin, you were an enigma to him.

"I heard you calling me" when you said that, his ears twitched. Your spells are accurate, but people's wishes are not written in stone, they change, grow and are full of life. Alastor was calling to you, whatever that reason was, it was strong, enough to split your subconscious to be with him.

You knew, just by seeing the relief in his eyes upon seeing you, that even without calling you, your image would have been reflected in his dream.

“I…I want you to stay” he brushed up your wing, to put a large band aid on the cut, his face close to yours. “I’m not going anywhere” you whispered close to his lips, “I mean–” you pecked his lips, “I know what you mean, I’m not going anywhere” his hand caressed your cheek, passing your pointy ears and down to your neck.

After a light tug he pressed his lips onto yours.

An electric feeling ran through his body, inside his pants his little tail was wagging because of how happy he finally felt with the truth on the table. To think that his heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of losing you in battle, he simply couldn't have lived with that.

“I will finish this up, you did a great work with my wound by the way” he kissed your cheek, sighing onto your soft skin.

After leaving you to be more of a bandage than a person, Alastor opened his heart to say something he hadn't said since his mother passed away. "Y/n, I think that, more than just a desire, I feel like I can't breathe properly if you're not present. The idea that you could have died yesterday filled me with rage, I couldn't tolerate the image in my head” he took your hands in his, they were shaking.

“I think that I love you, but I also feel that that term falls short, and I’m afraid I don’t understand it very well either, or you for that matter” Alastor hadn't felt this nervous since the first time he auditioned to be the new voice of the radio, and being a man of color, damn he was nervous.

Fun fact, he was less afraid when fighting Adam.

“Well, I have no desire to come back to my home-world, so we have time” a genuine smile painted his face, as he slowly pressed his lips back to yours, “You’re magical” he sighed, taking you into his arms, no matter how much it hurt post-war.

"I don't understand it either, but once I had a dream of you Alastor, similar to this"

"When?"

"Half a century before we met"

"Destined to be, then?"

"Yeah, feels like it"

"You know this means I won't let you go, right?"

"I was counting on that"