#yes he was scared of himself for about a year and a half

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

Mystery Skulls Animated x Danny Phantom

What if Arthur’s mom was Jazz Fenton? And the reason he’s living with his Uncle Lance is because there was a portal accident that caused it to explode (leaving only Arther alive but making him more like his Uncle Danny). But unlike Danny, the only person who knows about Arthur being half-ghost now is his Uncle Lance.

So when he meets Vivi, Lewis, and Mystery, they usually go after people of Scooby-Doo threat levels. And if there is a ghost, Arthur usually sneaks off to take care of it while doing his best to steer his friends away from it (note he is still terrified of ghosts but he figures he’s better equipped to handle it so reluctantly does so).

Rest is up to anyone who wants to write it.

[anarkhebringer]

There's a wild part of my mind that just knows deep inside that if Zenos were in Stardew Valley, somehow Elliott would woo him despite him not being a fighter at all. They both talk like Shakespeare and grew up as literature lovers.

Zenos would talk about the thrill of one's life being on the line and the urge to rip in and drink deep of the enemy's essence after going to the mines, and Elliott would just reply with "terrifying, hun, I love you."

[radiance1]

When the Justice League heard of Phantom, they believed they had to act quickly. Based on what they were told by the GIW, a branch of the government they had no knowledge of previously (Batman is working to correct that), the ghost was dangerous and extremely powerful.

A ghost that terrorized a small town that they GIW have tried-and failed- on numerous occasions to send back to the Ghost Zone. The GIW wouldn't have come to the Justice League for help if it were just that, but based on what they have claimed Phantom has achieved an inexplicable rise in power after having met with the King of ghosts himself.

If what they say is true, then ghosts could potentially invade and cause an all-out war with humanity that the Justice League would rather much avoid thank you.

Negotiations for peace or understanding have been repeatedly rejected and the GIW has been led to believe that Phantom has done something to the Fenton couple. The leading ecto-biologists in the world, years of research suddenly wiped clean off and acting much more cordial towards the ghost.

A complete 180.

So much so that you could even claim them to have been mind controlled. Which isn't outside the realm of possibility due to ghosts having an innate ability to overshadow others and control them.

Perhaps even the entire town has fallen under Phantom's control. Even another ghost, who had just been recently opposed to Phantom, has fallen under his control.

So the Justice League had to act fast.

---

Danny was fucked.

He could tell that very, very well. He still didn't have his entire new... dragon thing... under control very well, mostly sticking a half human like form. His powers were stronger yes but he couldn't really control them well.

Which is kinda why he's fucked.

Danny has never heard about the Justice League before, mostly because he had recently found out that apparently Amity Park was isolated. Like, extremely. Basically it's own little world cut off from the rest.

So when they appeared with the GIW he thought, hey, maybe they were finally changing their white suit shtick.

He didn't expect them to be extremely well-trained, have supernatural abilities or magic. Along with their usual tech well.

Yea.

Danny was fucked.

And he was very, very scared.

He's already died once but that didn't mean he wanted to die again, and he knows that he would probably be heavily experimented on if the GIW actually got their hands on him.

He was alone. He was surrounded. He was outnumbered. And he was oh, so very scared.

His family and friends had already fallen (thankfully not dead, just unconscious he thinks) and Vlad was occupied elsewhere, also fighting.

So Danny was alone.

No one would be coming to help him.

So what did he do?

He opened his mouth and did something he didn't do often. Despite that he could see that they somewhat recognized what he was about to do and tried to find cover.

Danny wasn't aiming at them.

He pulled his head back, mouth aimed at the sky.

Danny wailed.

It was waaaay more powerful than he had originally thought, so he was glad he aimed it at the sky.

As soon as it was over he felt drained, swaying on his feet and trying to use his tail to steady himself and not fall off his own claws.

They didn't know what was happening.

Danny just hoped it worked.

---

Neither the Justice League nor the GIW knew why Phantom shot one of his most powerful attacks up into the sky, but they did see the opportunity it presented.

Phantom was weak. Looking like he would fall off his own feet and fall unconscious.

They had to act quickly.

But before they could, from right where Phantom had wailed into the sky.

It cracked.

And continued to crack.

Until a large hole appeared in the sky, leading into a dimension of endless green.

The Infinite Realms.

They believed Phantom was trying to retreat.

They were wrong.

Two roars came from the portal, forcing everyone to cover their ears.

Then.

Something came out of the portal.

A long, serpentine dragon flowed out, flying around the area of the crack before descending down and around Phantom.

Then.

A giant claw grabbed onto the edge of the crack. Pushing against it until it broke, forcing the hole bigger and bigger as a much, much larger dragon stepped out. Standing protectively over the serpentine dragon and Phantom.

A large crown wrapped in flame floating about its head signified its status.

The Ghost King.

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

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Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader) a/n: pretty proud of that ngl.. enjoy guys love you!

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read

genre: ANGST

+ 1,6k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You thought you were going insane.

Maybe you already were, but it was no suprise- seeing the circumstances you were in. Arms stretched uncomfortably backwards and up- chains rubbing your wrists painfully raw. The stress position Soap put you in wasn't easy peasy lemonsqueezy.

Tears brimming in your eyes at the thought. You felt fucking betrayed. You were fucking betrayed, for gods sake! by your own team- the people you cried with- the people that you loved more than yourself- the people you called your family. That one man you took a bullet for.

Fuck all that bullshit.

Those were the same people that didn't believe you when things got rocky. When some pricks pointed their fingers at you- they immediately treated you as an enemy. The same people that chained you up. The same man that made you fucking blind on one eye

Everything was a lie, apparently.

The cell you were in was shady- you didn't expect something different- i mean you just served the military for many years and did everything for your country- of course you didn't deserve something more decent.

In the end you didn't care. Just waited.

When Gaz interrogated you- you kept your mouth shut. What should you do? Lie? Fuck no, you had so much self respect left, even in this dehumanizing situation.

of course your facade broke often times- you were only human after all. And it hurt- you were in this situation before- tortured by your enemies knowing that you would probably outlive them anyway as your team would rip them apart in a few days.

But now- being here- seeing how your 'friends'- your family- spat at you with nothing more than hate made you feel even more miserable- knowing, that no one will safe you this time.

You cried- having panick attacks deep into countless nights-being triggered by any small sound that wasn't coming from you or that rat in the corner of the room. Yelling at them- telling them that you didn't do shit. They didn't believe you.

Spiraling deep in your thoughts- shoulders sore and numb hands from the stress position- still tasting a faint trace of your own blood-

the sensory of the dried up blood on your cheek was uncomfortable at the beginning- cracking everytime you opened your mouth- but it quickly got kicked to the bottom of your worries as Price's wodden bat flew into your face yesterday- tooth flying onto the ground as you spat the crimson liquid at his feet- earning another strike from your Captain.

Your Saliva turning pink with the blood, sticking to your chin- slowly dripping down- having no free hand to wipe it off.

.

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.

You were here for about 1 and a half weeks now- how'd you know that? because you could hear the guards mutter something behind that steal door.

You shivered, suffering from hypothermia, a consequence of being almost naked in this shithole. Simon himself stripped you down- ignoring your pleas and protests.

Simon.

The man you did everything for, took a bullet for, cared for and slept with. He was the love of your life- or so you thought.

You were never scared of Simon. Since the first day you met him- you were kinda drawn to that giant of a man. Always spawning in his near with hearts in your eyes- Soap always made fun of you- but he found it cute neverthless, he could see that Simon didn't hate you.

You stitched him up- knew his fears (being a therapists daughter was quite a help for having deep convos), you knew of his past- even if it took you years to finally break his many iron walls down

You saw his face- kissed his scars and showered him with your time and love- giving him your all- even your body.

You weren't in a relationship- but everybody knew that Simon 'Ghost' Riley liked you. Even if you didn't tell anybody from the Force.

In the end it seemed not be enough, as the same man nearly strangled you to death down here. At first you were desperate, scared- but you stopped pleading a long time ago.

.

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.

heavy footsteps shook you out of your trance- spiraling thoughts stopping for a mere second as you looked into his stone cold eyes.

Balaklava on his scarred face- making you inhale sharply- heart throbbing at his sight. The black paint around his eyes made them pierce through the dark even more.

The same paint you applied more than once onto his unique face. he looked beautiful in your eyes. Even after everything that happened.

You're in here since a few nights.- Clothes starting to hang loosely around your body- having not eaten in days.

"Simon-" you croaked out- voice not cooperating as it should- making you tear up. When did everything turned out to be like that? This nightmare? You flinched a bit- chains clinking softly at your slight movement when he came towards you- still not speaking.

He stared. Stared at your weak frame. The dark hole you were chained into- being in a constant state of fear- Anxiety pulling and clawing at your nerves.

You gritted your teeth- looking to the side with a defeated huff. Tears prickling in your eyes once more- threatening to fall as he watched you like you were a kicked stray dog. Maybe you were in their eyes.

"I-" you croaked out once more "I didn't do it, Simon, i swear" you whispered into the dimmly lit room- Still not looking at him. "I swear to god Simon, I didn't.." you weeped in silence as he just looked "Fuck why should I betray you!!" you screamed in frustration at his figure- tears falling as he only left- leaving you in complete darkness- letting you cry to yourself till you eventually passed out.

.

Not even two day passed before he bursted through the iron door again- the loud sound ripping you out of your unconsciousness before he angrily grabbed you by your collar- hate flickering in those eyes that once held nothing but adoration for you.

"You fuckin' liar" he seethed through gritted teeth- behind that mask. Pushing you into the wall behind you- your head knocking against the brick wall with such a force that made you wince.

You could feel his anger. And you felt the danger that radiated from the man you gave your heart to.

His hands coming up to press against your jugular with a firm grip- picking you up a few inches into the air- chains clinking again. "Y'think you hav' it in you to lie into my fuckin' face" he growled while pressing down harder- you could feel yourself getting more lightheaded- gasping for air- choking for oxygen.

"Plea' Simon" you begged inbetween small gasps- scared what he will do to you. Hands tied together, wiggling in his painful hold like a suffocating fish- legs kicking to get him away from you- it worked- you gasped, trying to get in as much air as you could while your built up saliva ran down your chin-

he let you go for a second before his fist collided with your face. Hard- knocking the air out of your lungs once more "Jus' tell us the truth" he huffed, before hitting again- at first it hurt and then it burned. Your nose cracked under his fists-

Making you see stars and breath heavily before he took the knife out you gifted him for his birthday. Both your names engraved in it-

"'t will be easier for you" he said before popping the knife out of its sheath. "No, Simon" you cried out- whilst seeing the blade. "You don't have to do this" you gasped as he came dangerously close.

"No,no,no!!" you protested as he teared down your clothing, leaving you in a bra and your underwear. Feeling helpless as he teared down your clothes- ignoring your protest. The coldness of the room let goosebumps arise on your skin almost immediately.

He was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. You waited- staring at him, pulling at your chains as he looked at the blade. Fist tightening as he saw the little heart that was engraved into the hilt. Betrayal flushed his senses as he pushed the knife into your upper leg- making you scream in return.

Twisting the knife- hearing your agony but not stopping- he quickly hit you into your left eye socket with the hilt of the knife to shut you up. he didn't want to hear your screams.

Even if he didn't wanted to admit it- he was also teared apart- but his need to let his anger out was stronger - all the time he spent with a fucking liar- gave you his fucked up heart. All for you to be a fucking snake- a traitor.

He had to do his job- protect his family.

Another jab to the eye- hearing your muffled cries echo across the room- making you see red- the burning sensation was an ugly one. You couldn't see on that eye anymore.

"I fuckin' wish I could just kill you" he seethed before leaving you there in the dark- all beat up and bloody- head throbbing and surely a broken nose- making it hard to breath.

.

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You waited since then. Waiting for death to come. Waiting for Ghost to end it- but of course he never came back since then. Your wounds were starting to inflame- everything hurt and burned. Your eye swelling almost shut.

They all tortured you. Johnny, Kyle, John and Simon.

But they forgot something important. You were known for being patient. A fucking patient and stubborn woman. You waited. Yes you sometimes protested, and kicked and screamed and insulted them- but you neverthless waited for the day.

The day they finally see that they wronged an innocent. The day you would hurt them. Seek revenge.

Fucking. Revenge.

-

!please do reblog! :)

join the Taglist here (Taglist post)

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly (Mouthwash)

Part 1

(This gonna be a mini serie)

"What do you mean I can't see him? It's my husband we're talking about."

You crossed your arms but tried to maintain a relaxed posture, you didn't want to get defensive, you knew well that Anya wasn't the one to blame, you were just too anxious after that crash.

Anya: "I'm so sorry (Y/n), but the captain himself has told me that he doesn't want you to see him... He doesn't feel capable of seeing you in the state he is"

"Oh, I understand now. But you know that if he is incapacitated to perform his tasks and give instructions, then that makes me the captain."

You said firmly, putting your hands on your waist and puffing your chest, making the woman feeling so little. 

Anya: "I know, but he... Give him time, please... He is in pain."

"Anya please- it's been a week already. I need to see him" 

You ran your hand over your face, pressing your brow for a few seconds, trying to relax. 

You had been working with Curly as her co-captain for years, and less than a year ago, you had even gotten married.

Many questioned your position since they said that in case you had to be promoted to captain if something happened to Curly, your judgment would be influenced by your husband. 

You weren't going to give them rigth to keep saying that. You worked too hard for that and you now that the situation has come up you will show them.

"You are right, the captain's last orders must be respected, but please, tell me if at any moment he feel ready to see me." 

You took the woman's hands firmly, almost pleadingly, to which she nodded. 

You needed to stay calm to keep everything in order on the ship. 

"The cockpit is completely destroyed... the corridor to it was automatically sealed with safety foam so that space wouldn't absorb us, we are floating aimlessly, and we don't have a radio to call for rescue..."

You murmured while attentively examining the ship's blueprints along with Swansea and Daisuke. 

"Are the suits still available?" 

Swansea: "The room where they are stored has foam that has sealed the door, but it is not a very thick layer."

"Then I'll use one and exit through the hatch to check the cockpit damage, maybe there's something that can still work."

Daisuke: "Woah... The covkpit was blown up... It's a miracle that the explosion allowed the captain to reach the corridor before it was sealed with foam, otherwise he would be floating in the-"

He fell silent when he saw Swansea's look, gesturing towards you. 

"Yes... the truth is that it was a miracle that he's still alive, I'm grateful for it... Let's stick to the plan."

You stood up, ready to go to the room where the spacesuits were.

At that moment, Swansea took the opportunity to hit Daisuke on the head. 

After managing to get in and take the suit, you headed to the exit room, equipped yourself before leaving through the hatch. 

You observed in detail the void around you, a dark sea full of stars and debris floating around you. 

You held on to the ship, trying to reach the cockpit.

Swansea: "(T/n), can you hear me? Can you see anything?"

You smiled upon realizing that the suit communicator was intact, happy to feel that you weren't alone on that walk. 

"Loud and clear Swansea, I'm approaching the cockpit, the foam has spread outside the ship, it seems that it has prevented the fire from spreading."

You responded and went down to the cockpit, there was almost nothing, the only thing found there was the floor and half of the control panel. 

You sighed in resignation upon seeing that there was nothing salvageable left, everything too broken and burned. 

Until you got scared when something hit your helmet. 

Swansea: "All good?? Your pulse has accelerated too much."

"Yeah... I'm sorry... Something scared me."

You mentioned seeing Curly's ring floating near you, and soon you took it before it drifted away and kept it. 

You returned to the ship and took off the suit, and upon seeing Swansea, you shook your head, assuring him that there was nothing there that you can use to get out of there.  

Daisuke: "How did it feel to be in space??"

Swansea: "Child!"

"No, no, it's fine Swansea," you raised your hand, interrupting the man before he could scold the boy. "You never get used to that feeling, I've gone out many times for different reasons but each one is unique."

Daisuke: "Did you see an alien?? Was that what scared you?"

"Oh yeah, it had enormous eyes and tentacles on its arms, giant and ponty teeth, ready to devour interns!"

You and Swansea started laughing when Daisuke hid behind the older one. 

When they stopped laughing, you looked at both of them with a smile. 

"We're going to find a way out of here, I promise you." 

Swansea: "Sure, captain," he nodded at your words. 

It felt so strange to finally be called that way, but you maintained your stance, nodding and leaving that place to head to the reserve depot. 

You started organizing the remaining food supplies, it seemed like they were going to have to ration a bit, so you began separating and counting everything to maintain an inventory. 

You locked the storage room with a key so there wouldn't be any food thefts. 

You rested your head against the door and sighed. 

You searched in your pocket and took out the ring you had found, noticing how it was slightly deformed by the heat and cold it had been exposed to, but it still retained its circular shape. 

You placed it on your ring finger, next to your wedding ring.

You were sure that his ring was way bigger than yours, but the explosion for sure make it smaller now for you to use it.

After looking at it for a while, you pressed your lips against the two rings. 

"We're going to get through this, no matter what it costs me."

[sp0o0kylights]

Give meee: an Eddie who went into a small little bookshop on an Indie trip and stumbled across an in person fandom meeting. 

It's mostly Star Trek, and also mostly women, but the stories they have are nothing like Eddie's ever read. 

He's barely a teenager, and already protective of himself and his real identity--but everything he's ever wanted is written down, right here, on a little zine with Kirk and Spock doodled on the cover. 

They’re not--it’s not obvious, that they’re what he is, but the story itself is blatant and Eddie ends up being so obviously close to tears, he accidentally outs himself without ever saying a word. 

(He also ends up on the mailing list, then being sent home with several hand printed copies of all kinds of zines.) 

Eddie would remain on this list well past his third senior year in high school. 

Past bats, and Vecna and Steve fucking Harrington. 

Flash forward to his first apartment.The tiny one he shares with Steve when they followed Nancy and Robin to college. 

Steve knows Eddie’s gay. 

Or rather, Steve has been told, but Eddie's still pretty clammed up about it. He's not yet where Robin is, ready to bemoan her loveless existence while draped over their crappy, thrifted couch.

He makes jokes and he flirts and he absolutely says things he shouldn't, but none of it is real. 

It's flash. Showmanship. 

It's the persona that yes, is him, but Eddie consciously built it. There’s nothing soft or gooey there, nothing anyone can use to hurt him. 

So when he comes home and sees that plain, padded envelope with the neatly printed label on the counter, torn wide open and flat without its contents?

 Eddie panics. 

His heart thunders in his chest, vision tunneling as adrenaline kicks through him. 

He wants to bolt-- should bolt--except ever since he almost died his brain no longer obeys him. 

Not when it comes to running, anyway. 

Instead it fights him to a standstill, freezing his feet right to the living room floor. 

The urge is still there. 

To run, and save face the cowards way. 

Vanish before Steve could get at a part of him that had once kept Eddie out of Wayne’s trailer for two days, until the old man had hunted him down and made him come home, huffing about how he’d love Eddie no matter what but he better never disappear like that again. 

(Which Eddie did anyway, and of everything that happened with Vecna, it’s that he regrets the most. The stories he heard of Wayne putting up posters. Squaring off with angry, too-righteous townies, and--)

A sniffle jerks him out of his thoughts. 

Eddie gasps, entirely unsure of when he stopped breathing. Stumbles back and turns, right in time for Steve to come out of his room and amble down their hallway. 

One hand rubs at his eyes, and the other is--the other has…

Eddie identifies the cheaply printed, stapled zine immediately. It's one he's wanted to read for a while now, solely because it features a story about Kirk and Spock being stuck in a cave together on a planet that has  bat-like, vicious animals on it. 

Kirk gets bitten after something goes wrong with the transporter and, look, it’s carthiatic okay!? Sue a guy for wanting to read a romance about a situation he identifies with! 

Steve looks up from the zine and startles. 

For a second his eyes go dark and flat, the same way Eddies and Robins and Nancy's and everyone's does when caught off guard. 

It's gone in a flash though, Steve visibly relaxing when he clocks that it's just Eddie. 

He keeps the zine pressed to his sweater clad chest,  and huffs out a laugh that's half forced and half pure relief.

“Fuck Eds, you scared me! I didn’t know you could be quiet.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie manages, voice sounding totally and absolutely normal and not at all ten octaves higher than it usually is. 

They stare at each other for a second. Long enough that Steve's eyebrows crinkle in the middle, which is the first hint that he’s beginning to worry, and Eddie really cannot handle Steve being worried right now.  

“What's--” Eddie’s voice cracks and he coughs to recover. “what's that?” 

Steve frowns at him for a moment, until Eddie gestures at the zine in his hands. 

“Oh!”

Steve holds it up, as if to show it off. 

“It's a little book Robin got in the mail. It has a bunch of stories in it. They're normally boring as fuck but this one's from Star Trek.” 

Hearing the words ‘Star Trek’ out of Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be weird, not anymore, when Eddie and Dustin have been on a two man mission to nerdify Harrington as much as possible, but it still kicks like a mule to hear him say such things without any prompting. 

“You know what Star Trek is?”

“Eddie,” Steve tuts, tongue clicking in his mouth. “everyone knows what Star Trek is. It’s nerd shit, but like, old nerd shit. My grandparents used to watch it when I stayed over. This?” 

 He shakes the zine, so hard Eddie wants to snatch it away from him.

 “This isn't nerd shit. This is excellent.”

Steve gives the zine an appreciative glance and hell, maybe Eddie accidentally walked into another dimension. 

He’s been trying to get Steve to read more, rediscover the joys of books the public school system does its best to destroy, but until now Steve hasn’t really taken to it. 

Enjoys when Eddie reads aloud sometimes, and has started to bug Robin to do it for him too, but otherwise?

Eddie’s nerve seen him with anything that had the written word on it that wasn’t a cooking or car related magazine. 

“Honestly,” Steve’s saying, “I think Robs fucked up, this isn't her style at all. She’s gonna be pissed.” 

He eyes the thing appreciatively, like the gift it is. 

“I'm stealing it the second she figures that out.” He adds decisively. 

“You like it?” Eddie asks. 

“Mmm.” 

“Even though it's--it's got…Kirk…” 

Steve's frowning at him again. “What?” 

“It's queer man. It's really queer.” 

Steve peers at him, the crinkle back in his eyebrows. 

“I know. Wait, how do you--” 

And well. It’s now or never. 

“It's mine.” Eddie says in a rush.

“No it's not.” Steve scoffs, and okay, maybe this is a dream. Eddie pinched himself twice already, but perhaps a third time would wake him up?

(It does not.)

“it was even addressed to Robin. Well,” Steve has one hand on a hip now, his default position when arguing, “Robbie, but she goes by that sometimes.” 

Which Robin does, but not in the fucking mail.

Without a word, Eddie turns and goes for the envelope the zine came in. 

Steve follows, invading Eddie’s space to peer over his shoulder (and that’s Eddie’s fault too, that closeness, but he didn’t think it would be turned on him in a moment like this--) 

There's a sticker on the envelope’s label.

 It’s barely hanging on, half of it curled into the air.  Round and yellow, with little black lines, it becomes immediately obvious that one of Robin's smiley face stickers has migrated again. 

They're all over the apartment. Remnants of a phase she went through after she stole a roll of them from her and Steve’s job at a local toy store.

This one had clearly jumped ship from its original spot (likely on the ceiling somewhere), and was now firmly over the E in Eddie's name. 

‘Ddie’ still isn't exactly ‘Obbie’  but--

Steve leans around, snatching the envelope up and bringing it close to his face. 

Far too close, like he can't read it, eyes squinting as he examines the label--and suddenly Eddie knows exactly what happened. 

He laughs, an explosion of noise that's half hysterical and half disbelief. 

Steve looks at him. 

“What?” 

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, one finger jabbing in the air in the vague direction of Steve’s nose. “I told you you needed glasses!” 

“I do not!” Steve protests immediately, but his eyes are darting around the envelope. 

He’s scrambling to figure out what Eddie’s seeing, trying desperately to find a hole that can prove himself right. 

Eddie decides to help him, by plucking the smiley sticker off the envelope. 

“See?” He jeers, and shit okay, maybe his life isn’t over just yet. “It says Eddie, not Robbie!” 

“You guys have got to start using your government names for this shit.” Steve bitches, but it’s weak.

Eddie feels a grin coming on, and lets it overtake his face. 

“So...Kirk and Spock huh?” 

“They’re cute.” Steve defends instantly, before sighing his defeat and tossing the envelope on the table. 

The zine he keeps in his hands. 

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against their rickety table. “Even though they’re both guys?” 

“I thought we were past this!” Steve whines. “I went to a gay bar with Robin last weekend!” 

Which is news to Eddie. 

“You didn’t invite me?” He gasps, feigning hurt by putting a hand over his heart. 

Truthfully he still hasn’t fully recovered--is play acting himself, almost, but is rapidly coming around to the idea of Steve appreciating queer fanfiction. 

“We did!” Steve rolls his eyes so dramatically his whole head moves. “We absolutely did, You said,” 

Here Steve’s voice pitches into a mockery of Eddie’s  that he will not give him points for, even if it is a little hilarious, “Me? At some loser bar? Fuck no, I’ve got a campaign to write. Starbuck, don’t you have homework?” 

“I didn’t know that was a gay bar!” 

“You did! Robin told you!” 

“Okay well, I wasn’t listening!”  

“Clearly. I keep telling you we need a fucking--system or, I don’t know, a code word or something!”  

“Yeah well, when you wanna make us a safe word for conversations, big boy, you let me know.” 

They’re both laughing a little now, this argument veering into familiar territory, with Eddie not really listening and Steve mocking him for it later. (As well as vice versa, with startling regularity.) 

“You really like it though?”  Eddie says after the laughter winds down, gesturing to the zine still clutched in Steve’s hand. 

“Yeah.” Steve confirms, easy as he’s said anything else. Like this isn’t embarrassing, or almost worse than the time Wayne found Eddie’s porno mags and alphabetized them as a joke. 

“It's part of a mail tree. I’m supposed to send it on to the next person when I’m done with it. I make copies though,” Eddie rushes to add, because Steve is now clutching the little booklet to his chest in horror, as if Eddie was about to rip it out of his hands. “If you like I’ll show you my other ones?” 

Steve eases his grip, giving Eddie the little smile he makes that makes his stomach flip. 

“That’d be cool.” 

(Later, Steve pokes at Eddie’s thigh from where they’re both sprawled on Eddie’s bed, Steve having switched the new zine out for one of Eddie’s copies. “Are you going to laugh at me if I ask you to read some of these aloud?” 

“Only if you don’t laugh when I ask you to take me to that gay bar.” 

“Deal, but on the grounds you’re barred from making fun of my flirting attempts. Robin doing it was bad enough.” 

“Well you deserve it if you’re hitting on women at a gay bar, Stevie.” 

“I wasn't hitting on women you asshole.” Steve says and oh.

Oh.

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him for the second time that day. 

At least this time it’s not fear that thunders through him, but possibility.) 

[darlingdaisyfarm]

feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.” 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you:

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him

starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex:

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”  

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”  

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”  

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

 Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”  

“I need you so much it scares me.”  

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”  

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”  

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”  

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

[arminsumi]

Gojo Satoru running in a downpour just to give you an umbrella

💗 さとる

Note : u know like in the s2 ending. it's 4:30 am the birds are chirping n here i am... writing cheesy gojo fluff lol. ignore errors... i'm sleep deprived 😭✌️

"Satoru... did you run all this way... in the rain?"

He's panting and desperately trying to catch his breath, bearing a half-smile at you. His uniform is completely soaked through. His shoes are leaky and his socks are squelchy with rainwater. His hair is completely flat-wet. Water drips off the ends of strands.

You and him are under the highway bridge, it shields you from the torrential rain, which he just rain through all the way from Jujutsu High.

"Y-yeah... well... only because y–you texted me saying... that you didn't... have an umbrella. So." he huffs, a rivulet of water dripping off his pointy chin.

You squint at him in disbelief. It's so funny.

This boy. This poor teenage boy. With noodly arms and legs and a poor posture. Just ran all this way here. To give you an umbrella.

Just to give you a damn umbrella.

"You're nuts."

He makes a smile at that. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Y/n."

A long silence passes.

He sucks in a breath and makes a sideways look.

"Uh... sooo... do I get like... a cheek kiss for this, or something? Maybe? ... please? No? Yes? Or an appreciative "thank you, 'Toru you're my knight in shining armour!" maybe? How about a—"

"No." you tease.

"Aw dang, I'll just go fuck myself then. We're divorcing. And I'm taking custody of the umbrella." He jokes.

He bends his back and knees to lower himself to your height, so he can make sure you get your share of cover under the transparent umbrella. You give him a sudden cheek kiss once he's lowered himself enough to be reachable for your lips.

He malfunctions. His brain has to actively register what just happened to his body. And then once it realizes he's just received a cheek kiss, his whole face starts to glow. His whole body freezes up.

He blushes boyishly. Because of course he would, he's just been kissed by his 3-year crush best friend.

But then he reassumes his annoying Gojo Satoru persona within a minute.

"Awww... you must like me."

"Shut up. And stop crouching like that. You'll scare a child."

"My future wife is so mean to me...! 😩"

"I'm not your "future wife", Satoru."

He sticks his tongue out at you. But then his playful tone suddenly drops. He looks at you. And he earnestly says;

"I will make sure that you are. No matter what... I wanna be yours."

[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!

[hephaestiions]

For what it’s worth, Draco tries not to be in love with him.

Once the war ends, the world is dim and hazy and wild. For two months, it rains incessantly in Wiltshire. Draco watches his mother’s rose garden flag and flutter, run amok with weeds and ivy from his bedroom window. He spends May and June not doing much of anything but staring— out the window, at his ceiling, at his parents when they try to coax him to dinner. House arrest is not a death sentence, but Draco is empty and vacant and a little dead anyway.

He thinks of Harry sometimes. Harry, limned in fire on a broom, reaching for him, Harry, dead, not dead, clambering to his feet, wand raised, calling the Dark Lord Tom, Harry, who had met his eyes over the Aurors’ shoulders as they handcuffed him to accompany him to the Manor until the Wizengamot had the time to figure out what to do with the Malfoys. Harry, and the world winces into sharper focus, bleak and dull and unbearable. Draco tries, for all he’s worth, not that it’s much, to stop thinking of Harry when that happens.

There’s the trial. Harry Potter is in a suit, his hair damp and brushed and unfamiliar. He speaks for Draco and his mother. Draco recognises the image of Narcissa emerging in Harry’s testimony— haughty and determined and fearful and loving, a mass of contradictions worthy of exoneration after the payment of some hefty fines. His own image he recognises in snapshots and flashes— scared, yes, Merlin, yes, indoctrinated from a young age, that too, in the grip of something bigger than himself, yes, he’s never felt so small. There are other things Harry says, new, like an ill-fitted outfit hanging off him— brave when it mattered, really? and never killed anyone, technically true but the intent was there all through sixth year, doesn’t he deserve to be punished for that? and helped in bringing down the fall of Tom Riddle at great personal risk, a tall order at best, an embellished lie at worst.

Harry believes in a man Draco isn’t sure he ever was. The Wizengamot seems to believe him, and he’s exonerated too, with a magic-monitoring charm on his wand for eighteen months.

No one testifies for Lucius. He goes to Azkaban. Draco watches, dispassionate, as the Aurors handcuff his father again. Lucius watches him back, equally dispassionate. “Take care of your mother,” he says before he’s pulled away, and Draco manages a short, tight nod. That’s that.

Love, or the situation about Harry Potter as Draco takes to calling it, begins two more months after the trials.

“Malfoy,” says Harry, the picture of wide-eyed surprise. They’re in a bar on Knockturn. Pansy, Blaise and Theo finally dragged him here, Draco you need to leave that stuffy old Manor for your own good.

“Harry Potter,” Draco says, because he can’t bring himself to call him Potter anymore, and Harry sounds awkward outside his head.

“It’s good to see you,” says Harry, a sudden grin stretching across his face. Draco has to blink the light of it out of his eyes. “You’re looking better.”

It starts then, in the bar. The stirrings of life in a dead man. It’s annoying and brutal and the kind of thing that keeps Draco waking up and getting himself out of bed every morning and the nightmares occasionally at bay.

They run into each other at the bar, over and over, and each time, Harry begins conversation. Each time, it lasts a few minutes longer, until they’re spending half an hour or more chatting over drinks at the counter. Or, rather— Harry chats, Draco listens and tries not to let his heart spring out of his chest. Each time, Pansy looks considering, Blaise rolls his eyes and Theo peers studiously into his drink when he comes back. Draco wonders if Harry’s friends have their own set of patented reactions and if they’re half as lenient as his friends’.

Draco starts sleeping with Theo about it, eventually. Which is to say Draco starts sleeping with Theo hoping the sex will take his mind off dark hair and green eyes and that rapid, quicksilver smile. It doesn’t help that Theo has dark hair and blue eyes, and smiles at Draco like the sun. It makes him ache with want and loss, and the sex is great, but Draco has to end it within a few weeks.

“It’s Potter, isn’t it,” Theo says when Draco tells him.

There’s no point denying it, so Draco doesn’t. “It’s not you,” he says, and Theo’s lightly amused baleful glare is enough for their friendship to remain stable, if a little stilted.

Blaise takes him shopping and Pansy brings him alcohol and when Greg starts stepping out of his house again, he tells Draco awkwardly, “Well, Potter’s missing out, isn’t he?” Millicent, who starts coming to pub nights gives Draco a once-over and tells him he needs to get a job. Daphne tries to set him up with her sister, and takes it astonishingly terribly when Draco tells her he’s sure Astoria’s lovely, but has an entirely wrong set of bits.

“You should be more open minded,” she tells him, sniffing. “Astoria‘s open minded!”

Draco can only think to blink at her.

Harry’s in the papers almost every day. Sometimes because he gives speeches, but mostly because The Prophet’s society section can’t think to write anything better than “Harry Potter spotted in Diagon’s Sunday Market, with turnips! Turn to page 6 for seven delicious recipes that make fresh and inventive use of the Chosen One’s Chosen Veg!”

It’s all well and good except for the part where the accompanying photos of Harry, scowling or blank or frustrated or very occasionally, smiling at children, sends Draco’s body into overdrive. He finds himself tracing the line of Harry’s mouth, the tops of his cheekbones, his hairline. He thinks his mother notices, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime?” Harry asks.

They’re not at the bar. They’re in a cafe and Draco is reading a horrible romance novel at the window.

“We get drinks all the time,” Draco says. He wants to step on his own toes.

“Yeah,” Harry says, laughing. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, course, just— I was wondering if you maybe wanted to. You know. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Forget it,” Harry says, and sighs. He turns away and turns back. “It was good seeing you, Malfoy.” He turns away again.

“Harry,” Draco says. The look on Harry’s face when he turns back again is wide-eyed surprise again, like that first time in the bar. “I— a drink sounds lovely.”

Harry looks uncertainly pleased.

“Just not on Knockturn,” Draco says.

“We could go to Hogsmeade,” Harry says. He’s— the ridiculous man— bouncing on the balls of his feet, fidgety and buoyant and beautiful. “Or London. The Muggle bit. Or Diagon, really, but the reporters—” He grimaces.

I’ll go anywhere with you, Draco wants to say. “Anywhere,” he says instead, hacked short and inadequate.

But Harry smiles at him like he’s the sun. The persistent ache throbbing through Draco abates for a moment.

So this is peace, Draco thinks. Meets Harry’s smile with his own, wonders how Harry thinks it looks. There you are.

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “cranes in the sky”. this is a little all over the place and i’m not particularly happy with it, but here’s a decidedly-not-microfic about failing at not being in love with harry james potter. oh draco, you’re exactly like me.

[soggyriceee]

strawberry | Konig nsfw

| this one is a smut, but also angst. basically, Konig gets you to use your safe word for the very first time after being gone for a year in the German base. so, I hope you all enjoy :) |

warnings: rough sex, crying (not good kind) angst, aggressive konig, not edited, will be edited in the morning

╰┈➤

Konig was always gentle during sex. and it a hundred percent had to do with the fact he was literally twice your height and then some. yes he left hickeys, small small bruises on your hips from his grasp, left your legs a bit wobbly. but those were normal considering his size. and even when you reassured him you liked that, he would always apologize profusely, getting you anything you need for hours and hours after.

but tonight, he was a whole other man. he wasn't the same kind and giving Konig. and to an extent you liked the new dominance, the new aggression. it was hot.

until it wasn't.

Konig had been between your legs, fingering and eating you out for about an hour. he was hungry, and not for edible food. he was hungry for you. that sweet pussy of yours, your tight cunt gripping his fingers or dick. he missed it while he was back in Germany for some mission he had given you little information about. all you knew was he was in the middle of Germany, killing potential threats.

already you had came 4 times (that he allowed). he was so pussy drunk, he hadn't realized the tears that brimmed those pretty eyes. in fact, his eyes were closed, his lower half grinding into the bed. you were sure he had already came in his pants at least twice at this point. he would occasionally whimper into you pussy, his hips moving faster against the bed. " fuck ive missed this pussy maus.. you dont even understand." he said into your drenched cunt. a mix of saliva and cum ran down your legs, a big puddle underneath the both of you.

"k-konig can we.. take a break please." you cried from above, your legs shaking despite his mouth simply on your thighs, leaving more and more marks. he nipped at the soft flesh of yours after those words came out, a low growl leaving his lips. " how dare you ask such a question?" he rose, pulling his pants down. and you were right.

his dick was layered in his cum, more of it dripping out from the tip. he was so agonizingly hard, he couldnt bare to fuck into the bed anymore. he needed what he dreamt of every night since leaving. and he needed it now. "imma fuck my babies into you liebling.. make you swollen with them." he said, almost to himself, as he grabbed the base of him, looking down at your pussy.

as much as you wanted him to rearrange your guts, you were drained. he had made you so overstimulated, you could barely form thoughts. it was hard trying to even raise your head from the pillow. but he didnt care. he hadn't realized it before, but as much as he does want to cherish your body like its a rare piece of art from olden times, worth millions of dollars, he loved seeing you fucked out just as much. he loved seeing how he had complete control over your body and there was nothing you could do. it sparked a whole new person in him, one that you were quickly growing scared of.

before you could process his tip sliding slowly into you with ease, his hips were already slamming into yours, his balls hitting your cum soaked ass with so much force, the sound filled the room. your hands clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, your eyes squeezing shut. " you look so fucking pretty maus.. so fucking pretty. all fucked out like this.. shit~" he groaned, his eyes watching your face twist in what he believed was pleasure.

and for a bit it was. until he raised your leg all the way up, leaving the other down. your leg fell over his shoulder and your arms flopped to your side. he was hitting directly at your cervix and it hurt. but he was in so much pleasure. his head fell back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his lips spitting out dirty phrases in both English and German.

and of course, being away from sex for a year, Konig was beyond sensitive. he came for the first time within the first few thrusts, his head falling into your bruised breasts, whimpering out how good it feels. but that didnt stop him. he kept going.

his hand found its way to your throat, gripping it unintentionally hard. with the mix of tears and now the shortness of breath, it was all a lot on your body physically. Konig had gotten to carried away inside your pussy, the way it sucked him back in. "fuck maus.. your s-so wet.. im close again~" he whimpered, his lips latching to your breasts to find space to mark it yet again.

at this point you were literally going in and out of vision. his grip on you grew tighter as he released yet another load into you. you too felt your pussy leaking, unaware of the knot that was in your stomach. you were feeling too many things at once that you ended up going completely numb. you whimpered below him, trying to find anything to get him to realize that you needed a break. but the tears that fell from your eyes only made him wanna fuck you more.

he slid out, watching the mixture of cum literally pour out of you. your thighs were soaked and red from the constant biting and nibbling a few moments ago. your face was red as well from the lack of oxygen. he let go of your neck, licking his lips as if he was deciding what to do with you next. all he knew, was that he wanted to keep fucking you.

he grabbed your legs and pressed them together and into your chest. immediately you felt his dick slide right in, going at his fast pace yet again. "k-konig please- I-i cant" you managed to choke out, your head hitting the bed frame with each thrust he gave you. this was when the fun for you ended. it only made him more and more horny, seeing you tap out so soon after he began to fuck you.

the look in his eyes was not the same look when he came home, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand as he ran up to you, lifting you off the ground and placing kisses all over your face. no. this look was dangerous. it was almost like it was the same look he had on the battle field.

his hand went back to your throat, his head tilting to the side slightly. "shut up a-and fucking.. take it. I know.. you missed this a-as much as me." he growled, moving his hips only faster and deeper. but you couldnt take it. you truly couldnt take it.

by the time you felt your 6th orgasm approaching, you began to see white light in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you were truly at your limit. "s-strawberry" you tried to say as loud as you could. but the sounds of your cunt and konigs whimpers, he couldnt hear you. his thrusts kept going until you felt him release inside you again, his grip on your throat enough to snap your throat. and at that same time, what you though was impossible happened. you had the most painful orgasm ever, your body feeling like it was going to shut down entirely. it was like you had nothing else to give.

""fuck libeling.. gimme one more.. be a good girl." he whispered breathlessly, his hips beginning to once again, move. this time slower but still deep. but you physically couldn't take it.

once you felt yourself begin to doze off from the lack of oxygen and overstimulation, you were finally able to coherently and loudly say, 'strawberry'.

╰┈➤

you woke up about a half hour later, your throat sore and body just as sore. you tried to turn but your legs gave you a painful sign to stay put. thats when it all came back what had happened. of course, it made tears well up in your eyes. you'd just seen a side of Konig you never thought you'd see. a side of him he kept hidden from you.

you stayed completely still, looking into nothing until you heard sniffles coming from the floor behind you. of course, you tried to move but it hurt. but eventually you were able to turn to your side, a few pained moans leaving you every now and then. thats when your eyes landed on Konig sitting on the floor, head in his hands as tears seeped through his fingers.

"Konig?" you said, wincing right after. but he didnt look up. he kept his head in his hands, his chest rising and falling quick. and you knew what this was. you'd been with him for so long, you knew exactly what he was going through based off his body. but as much as you wanted to help him, you genuinely couldnt feel your legs. "please come here.. I cant get up. let me hold you." you said, reaching your hand out. but still, nothing.

you felt a pain in your chest watching him like this, unable to do anything. you wanted to help him, reassure him that everything is okay. but words only do so much for him, he needed you to physically show him everything was okay. "Konig please I-" "I h-hurt you. im s-so s-sorry." he spoke out, hyperventilating throughout all. he began to rock on the floor, crying harder into his hands.

hearing him cry, it made you want to cry with him. especially since, you couldnt do anything but try and talk to him. "Konig please." you tried reasoning with him. but he couldnt get himself off the floor. thats when you decided to drag yourself off the bed, no matter how much pain you felt. you knew that yes you needed help too, but you weren't gonna get any if your help was having a panic attack.

once you got to the end of the bed, you crawled off of it slowly, your hands hitting the ground first, legs second. you groaned at the light impact, but still dragged yourself over to Konig. he was shaking when you got to him, his cries not stopping, even when you rested your hand on his foot. "Konig please stop crying.. look im okay. im alive." "but you almost weren't." he was looking up now. seeing his red puffy eyes broke your heart. and seeing you, looking lifeless and not responding to him made him even more worried for you than you were for him. the only thing that kept him going was your pulse, and barely that.

"I-i almost k..killed-" he couldnt finish his sentence before sobbing into his hands again, shaking his head. your head dropped, you didnt know what to say. you'd never experienced this issue with Konig, with anyone before. you'd never had to use your safe word and you never expected to. "Konig.. can you look at me?" you finally spoke, your voice stern.

he looked up at you, wiping his eyes. " it was an experience, okay? yes it was scary and yes it could've gone wrong. but it was a could've situation, not a did happen situation. as much as I want to help you feel better, I cant do that if I cant see you, and talk to you like I am now." your hand took his, squeezing gently. he sniffled and nodded, looking straight into you. " right now, I need help too. so lets help each other feel better." you said, smiling softly at him.

he looked down at your neck, some of the hickies leaving behind dried blood or bite marks. some even both. his heart dropped as he ran his eyes down your body again, the thsirt he put on you the second he realized you had passed out, barely covering the similar marks on your thighs. "im.. im so sorry maus.." he whispered, shaking his head.

you smiled and grabbed his face, leaning in as slow as you could as to not hurt yourself, leaving small kisses on his cheek. " I love you Konig, okay? you got a bit carried away. you've been gone a year. its normal. unexpected, but I understand. just please, next time-" "ill treat you like your made of glass libeling." he finished, grabbing your face.

Konig knew deep down, he'd never forgive himself for this. for putting you in danger like that, for turning into the man he was on the battlefield. he'd never forgive himself, no matter how many times you told him it was okay. it wasn't. and he felt worse about being the one on the floor crying instead of showering you in love.

he stood, grabbing you with such ease into his arms, flipping you bridal style. you clung to his neck, smiling at him. "lets go give you a bath, ill order your favorite food. or I can cook. then we can watch that show you've been watching. we can do anything you want maus.. I love you." he said, walking towards the connected bathroom.

and you both did just that. the rest of the night you stayed in, cuddling and watching your favorite shows. as bedtime grew closer for you both, he began to clean the marks along your body, kissing each one and apologizing after them all. he felt so bad, and he was willing to go above and beyond, and even then some, to make you feel like the beautiful princess you were.

[justauthoring]

tears.

tears -> the blood of the soul; where the soul bleeds, you cry.

a/n -> okay can we PLEASE talk about that finaleeeee

pairing -> sanemi shinzagawa x f!reader

oddly, you're more afraid then you thought you'd be.

despite it all, you had believed you were prepared for it—the final battle. given that you'd been working towards this point since that fateful day you joined the demon slayers. years of training, of missions, of pouring blood and sweat and losing loved and cared ones that all lead to this battle.

and yet, you were afraid.

terrified, even, you think. if the shakiness of your hands are anything to go by, you'd venture to guess that yes, terrified sounded more accurate than just afraid. it feels like your heart hasn't stopped pounding against your chest since the hashira meeting nor that you've been able to properly catch your breath.

always short, always gasping—you're desperate for any sense of calm that won't come because the mind was cruel. and reality was even more so.

you'd faced death so many times now that you'd believed this one last, final time wouldn't matter as much. a necessary step that would decide fate once and for all. it was this last battle, you figured, that would decide who came out on top.

but maybe it isn't dying that scares you. yes, you think, it isn't that you're afraid of dying but that you're afraid of—

"i swear, none of those damn idiots will have the slightest clue on how to even begin training—"

it isn't abnormal for sanemi to come in complaining about something or another. what is odd is the tears he's faced with the second he walks in, lips left parted as he cuts himself off. the concern that floods his gaze is instant and all previous thoughts are gone from sanemi's mind as he rushes over to you.

"y/n?" his voice is soft in a way it only ever is with you and strangely, it makes your heart pound more frantically against your chest. "what's wrong?"

his hands are pressing against your cheeks, pulling your watery gaze steadily on his own. you feel your lip tremble and a shaky gasp pulls from your lips, beyond your control, the second your eyes focus in on his own.

you have half the mind to think that you should lie, that it's not fair to burden sanemi with your own childish fears. you do think it, but you lose your own battle the second you feel his thumb graze the skin of your cheek and take in the expression of worry and concern, blazingly present, in his eyes.

"i'm scared," you admit breathlessly. it's hard to admit, even to him, hard enough to even realize it subconsciously and the words feel wrong and like poison—yet, they're true all the same.

and your hands instinctively raise, pressing into him for any semblance of comfort you can steal from him. you haven't felt such terror since the day demons cruely ripped everything you hold dear from your hands—since you were coated in blood and forever petrified from the horrors of their corpses.

"i... i'm afraid of losing you."

it's a ghosted whisper—you don't want to say the words and put the pressure of that desperation on sanemi's shoulders. he has more than enough weight holding him down and you'd never want to add to it on purpose. but you're tongue is lose and your fear is blinding your rational thought and when he looks at you like that, you don't want to lie.

sanemi's hands are firm and never wavering, and as he cups your cheeks he forces you to refocus on him and solely him.

"y/n. y/n."

you stared at him with blurred vision, breath gasping and nails pinching into the clothe of his yukata; you grip him as if he'll disappear from your very touch that moment alone.

"y/n, look at me."

he's leaning, pressing his forehead against your own and swallowing your attention up so there's nothing but him to focus on.

"breathe," he guides, voice gentle but hoarse and rough. "you need to breathe."

you force yourself to listen. force yourself to inhale when he does, soothing yourself by following his movements until, slowly, the fog clears to allow you to see sanemi before you clearly. it still feels like you're short, still missing that last bit of air that would calm you, but it's better than it had been seconds prior and you savour the sanity of it completely.

"good," he praises, brushing your hair away from your face where it'd fallen.

you shake your head; "sanemi—"

"it's okay," he assures, the words just a little too rushed in a way that causes you to blink. it gives you the momentum to notice the slight, barely noticeable tremble of sanemi's hands against your cheeks or the echoing breaths he lets outs himself.

your eyes widen and you step towards him.

"i'm scared too," he admits.

it's admission that means more than anything else could've. in all your years of knowing sanemi, he's always chosen anger and passion over calm and truth. he'd never ever admit to anyone that he, the wind hashira, was scared of anything—he was all fire and strength, racing into battle with skill he'd bled over perfecting and came out the other side a winner.

he had the confidence to boost it. never wavering in his own ability.

so his admittance of fear is enough to pull you from your own racing thoughts and focus on the fear he lets slip—if anything, for your sake.

"but this is what we're trained for," he reminds, fingers brushing against your skin—soothing and a constant, pressing reminder of his presence. you're more than thankful for it. "and it's our duty as hashira to defeat muzan."

you nod, slow, unsure. "i know," you whisper, "i know. it's just..." and your grip tightens, knuckles white and hands still trembling, gripping his clothes in your palm and trying to be as close to him as possible. "i don't want to lose you."

"i don't want to lose you either," sanemi breathes.

you stare into his gray, swirling eyes, lips pressed tightly together.

"i can't promise you we'll make it through this, but know that i will fight like hell to get back to you."

you blink, the tears welling as his words mean more than sanemi could ever possibly know. despite it's brutal honesty, those words are exactly what you need to hear in that moment.

because there is no other option. sanemi is right when he says it's your duty and you have every intention of following through, even if it lead to your death — but the sincerity in his voice as he promises to do anything in his ability to see you on the other side...

it's all you need to hear.

"and i hope you'll do the same."

"of course," you nod, not wasting a second before assuring him of that fact. you press your forehead against his own, lips hovering before his, and sink into him as much as you possibly can. "of course i will. i promise."

he's nodding, the words loss on him as he relishes in your presence just as much as you have been his.

and then, when his lips press against your own, you savour it — not because it might be your last, but because it'll be your strength to make sure it isn't.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Holidays┃max verstappen

summary: Max and his family go to disney orlando <3

  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖

Max was sitting behind the wheel of the family Mercedes, with Google Maps marking the route to Disney Orlando. Next to him sat Y/n , his longtime girlfriend, with a big smile on her face as she looked at her three children in the rearview mirror. Thomas, the eldest, (seven years old), had his face lit up as he watched the view out the window, Harry, (five), talked excitedly about all the attractions he wanted to go to, and little Aurora, just four years old, hugged happily her stuffed animal.

"Ready, everyone?" Max called out, earning a chorus of enthusiastic little "yes!" from the back seats.

The trip was full of laughter and fun games. As they drove, the kids chatted non-stop about all the attractions they wanted to go to and the characters they hoped to meet.

When they arrived, the view of the park was enough to make even Max excited. They parked and headed towards the entrance, Aurora was firmly attached to Max's hip who carried her while Thomas and Harry clung to Y/n's hands.

The first stop was the gift shop, where the real fun began. Thomas saw a Mickey Mouse hat and excitedly put it on his head. Harry chose a Goofy hat, laughing at the floppy ears. Aurora's eyes lit up when she saw a Rey costume from Star Wars and she excitedly held it up for Max to see.

"Can I get it, daddy? Please?" she pleaded, her eyes wide with hope.

"Of course, angel," Max replied, smiling as he looked for the size that would fit Aurora. She spun around, showing off her new outfit with pride, and became even more excited to see her mother coming to her with a lightsaber to complement her costume.

While strolling through the park, the family met various characters, collected autographs, and took countless photographs. Aurora squealed with joy when she saw Rey (and Anakin)and insisted on taking a photo with her, while Thomas and Harry took photos with every Marvel character they could find.

When it was time for the roller coasters, Max found himself in a difficult situation. Despite driving a car more than 200 kilometers, some of the Disney attractions were more than he expected. At the Tower of Terror, Max tightened his grip on the safety bar as the elevator descended, his eyes widening in fear and screaming in horror. Aurora, sitting next to him, laughed and patted his arm reassuringly, clearly enjoying the ride more than her father.

"Come on, daddy, it's fun!" Aurora laughed, her bright eyes shining with excitement.

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Max looking more terrified than his four-year-old daughter. "Having fun, darling?" she teased as they exited the ride.

"Loads," he replied, forcing a smile and trying to shake off the adrenaline.

The rest of the day was filled with more fun. Thomas and Harry dragged Y/n on every roller coaster they could find, their energy seemed endless. Max stayed with Aurora, going to calmer games for her age, and whom he occasionally picked up to see the parades and fireworks.

A particularly fun time was on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. As the boat plunged over a small waterfall, Max let out an involuntary scream, much to the amusement of his children. Thomas and Harry couldn't stop laughing, and even Aurora joined in, clapping her hands in joy.

When they arrived at their hotel room, the children were exhausted but happy while Aurora was full asleep and Max carried her. Thomas and Harry snuggled into their bed , who were already half asleep, while Max tucked Aurora into her bed.

As he settled into bed next to Y/n, Max couldn't help but feel grateful for those moments with his beautiful family. Despite the scares, the day had been perfect.

"We should do this more often," he murmured, putting an arm around Y/n and closing his eyes.

"I totally agree," she replied softly, snuggling closer to him.

[starkeyisthelastname]

kinda curious about how the first time with stepdad!rafe be like

btw love your writing sm oml🤍

(Thank you sweetness! 🤭💕)

He had treated you to an entire day of shopping on the mainland, letting you get anything you wanted. From Sephora to Chanel, he spent it all on you. He had been buttering you up for the last few weeks, letting his gentlemen come out every second. You were naive, needing someone to guide you through your newly adult years.

He had made sure his wife wasn’t home that night, thanking this was a weekend she had went on a girl’s trip with her friends. He had even said yes to watching a movie with you in your bed, his goal to get his cock in you that same night.

“Hold your legs back for me.. yeah there you go.” Rafe’s voice low as he helped you bend your smooth thighs back. He had you nearly folded in half, pink pussy at the perfect angle for him to slide into. He saw your face, cheeks already flushed as you tried to shy away from him. As open to the idea of him teaching you what a real man should do, he also knew you were worried about your mother finding out. “Hey, look at me. Yeah?” He said, dick in hand as he slid it over your soaked folds.

You glanced at him, wispy lashes fluttering as your pretty lips opened in a small whimper. “I’m scared.” You whispered. You had only had sex once before and he wasn’t anywhere as big as Rafe. You also knew that this was wrong, but your naive self also had thing for strong male figures and wanting to completely devote yourself to them. Even if this one happened to be your stepfather.

Rafe’s hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your smooth skin as he stuck the tip near your entrance. “Don’t be scared sweetheart. I promise you it’s gonna feel good.” He whispered, slowly pushing himself in your tight cunt for the first time. “Yeah… daddy’s gonna make you a good little slut.” His blue eyes rolling back as your hot little cunt swallowed him.

Your mouth fell open, eyebrows squeezing together as you felt his fat length fill you up. You couldn't seem to say anything, words at a loss as he began to trust his toned hips. Your tummy fluttered, eyes glancing up at the handsome man above you.

Rafe let out a soft chuckle, eyes flashing dark as his messed up mine got off on the fact he had his dick buried up his step-daughter’s cunt. His thumb came down to rub your pearl, watching as you let out the prettiest moan he had ever heard. “You like that shit?” His voice rasped out to you.

All you could was nod your head, moans only growing louder the harder he went. The way your hips were angled had him hitting your hole at a brutal pace, your own parts betraying you as the sound of wetness filled the room.

He smirked, loving how he had you exactly where he wanted you. Wrapped around his finger to be a good cock slut. “Yeah… there you go. Take that dick up your princess cunt like a good girl.”

His nasty words, only make you wonder what else he had in store for you moving forward. The tiny voice in the back of your head, making your French nails tap his lower abdomen. “Rafey.. we sh-should stop.” You mumbled, struggling to cease the funny feeling that was growing in the pit of your belly.

Rafe looked at you, thrusts coming to a halt. He watched your eyes widen, glossy lips frowning despite you telling him to stop. “Why you fuckin crying for then when I slow down? Huh?” He asked eyebrow raised as he heard the whine come from your open mouth. “Better start using your big girl words or I will fuckin stop. You and I both know you don't want that baby.”

[igotanidea]

I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)

Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...

***

They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.

But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.

Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.

It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.

So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.

Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.

If only she knew why.

But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.

But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.

That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.

That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.

That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.

If only she knew why.

***

He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.

“Robin.”

“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”

“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”

Oh.

Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.

Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.

“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.

“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!

“Do you want me to read the text to you?”

“Don’t you dare touching-“

“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”

“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”

“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”

“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.

However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.

***

Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.

The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.

It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.

But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.  

And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.

When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.

It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.

***

“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again

“What do you want, Nightwing?”

“I got eyes on Y/N.”

“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.

“Um… Robin?”

“I am busy, Nightwing.”

“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting  a bit desperate to get his attention.

“What now?!”

“I got eyes on Y/N!”

“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”

“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”

“What street?!”

“I’m going to take action now-“

“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”

***

She knew she was being followed.

The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.

The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.

Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.

Rape.

Murder.

Assault.

Unexplained disappearance.

Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.

Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.

The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-

“Y/N.”

She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.

Robin. Batman’s sidekick.

The street light colours palette Robin.

Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.

And one of her worst fears.

***

The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.

The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.

But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.

When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.

He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.

His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—

“You’re safe now.”

She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.

There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.

But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.

***

“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.

It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.

“Okay.”

It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.

Not for long though.

***

It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.

Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.

“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”

“Dami, please…”

“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”

“Dami, I need you…”

“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”

“Dami… 🥺”

Oh no.

As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.

That he left her.

That he didn’t care.

That she was alone.

And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.

And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.

***

A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.

“Y/n!”

The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.

“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”

She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.

He had to change tactics.

“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”

An empty threat that could have only been made by him.

Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.

“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.

“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”

“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”

“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.

“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”

“Mhm…”

“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”

“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”

“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.

But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.

There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.

His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?

And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?

Right after Robin escorted her here?

“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.

Causing a little too much movement.

“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”

She was not.

She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.

“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier. 

Oh, no…

How could he forget…?

to be continued...

Part 2

[daystarpoet]

★﹐safe and sound ．﹗﹑

percy jackson x gn!reader. they both come back from a quest where user almost dies whoops. situationship-ish, friends but there's something else. what do you do when you get back? go swim ofc this is percy jackson we're talking about.

being half-bloods meant having dangerous experiences almost daily. that was something both percy and you knew far too well.

being a child of the gods was a risk on its own, solely by existing, were you in danger. if it wasn't monsters, it was the totally very much safe activities at camp. either way, there was always something trying to end you; much more during quests.

the gods loved sending their children to deal with their problems instead of solving them themselves, henche why quests existed. they tended to short heroes' lifespan—percy and you were quite lucky you managed to return from this one with just some scratches (and newly additions of trauma but that was irrelevant)

percy knew that the possibility of not returning from a quest was very much there; yet that didn't make him any less frightened. he wasn’t scared of dying himself, but rather scared of losing someone dear to him—you in this case.

you had been friends since he arrived to camp, all those years ago. you had been one of the ones who had showed him the ropes of the demigod life. you watched as he gained more and more control of his abilities as a son of poseidon, always there for him; and for that, he was forever loyal to you.

during this quest, he had been dangerously close to losing you, a thought he could not bear.

his feet dangled over the water of the lake as you sat on the deck, the moonlight shining down on the pair of you. he glanced at you, his hand almost too close to yours, subconsciously inching closer.

it was all friendly, right? like the way you had kissed him good-luck when you were fifteen and inside that labyrinth. he looked at you, and you looked back at him, those deep sea-green eyes staring into your soul. It was peaceful, it hadn't been this quiet in around a week.

“this is nice…” he muttered. “i always forget how calming this is.” he sighed and looked back at you you both should be sleeping right now, but that was the last thing percy wanted to do after a quest. after all, the only thing quests brought once he was back inside the camp barriers were nightmares.

“it is,” you agreed with him, glancing at his face, only to catch him with his gaze still glued to you. “stop staring, you creep.” you teased him, lightly shoving him on the back of the head.

“i was so not staring at you.” percy defended himself, knowing full well you had caught him red-handed. “if you don't want me to stare, i have an idea of something else we can do.” his expression soon changing to one of pure mischief.

“oh? i feel like i should be more scared of whatever you're planing than what i'm scared of quests.” you rose an eyebrow, to which he just shrugged. a beat passed, and in that very instant did you realise what percy's smirk was all about.

“don't you-” and before you even finished your sentence, the boy pulled on your arm and into the water. “perseus jackson!” you called, wiping the water off your face.

“yes?” he answered innocently, as if he had never done anything wrong in his life. you should have expected it. percy was always like this. he was like that because he cared.