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avtrbee · 6 months

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✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.

✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader

✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.

Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.

Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.

The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.

"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."

His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."

His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."

But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"

Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.

He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"

"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.

"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.

"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.

“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”

“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”

Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”

You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.

Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.

You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.

“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”

You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.

Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.

When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.

“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.

“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”

“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”

You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.

extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk #parental megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

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stars-for-circe · 2 months

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Baby Fever

Support Palestine

Tags/cw: PURE smut, breeding/pregnancy kink, tribbing, oral sex, fingering, overstimulation, fluff

Imagine having baby fever, after seeing the cutest video of a sleepy toddler while on that part of your cycle. And imagine bringing it up to Ellie while you're both cuddling on the couch. Imagine how when you mumble out your thoughts, "Wanna make a baby, Els..." your face is snuggled into her chest as she does a double take and gasps so hard she starts coughing - surely she didn't hear that right.

"W-what?" She would finally stutter out, both surprised and entirely horny because of what you just proposed to her. And you would sit up, hands against her chest and a leg around her waist to look at her directly. And with how she was only wearing boxers and an opened flannel, looking outrageously attractive, you couldn't help but start begging for it.

"I wanna have a baby, want you to put one in me right now." And it has to be the fucking hormones, what with how you look like you're in pain from being denied your wish. You could seriously cry right now if Ellie doesn't fix it right this instant.

"But we- we can't even..." Brows furrowed, she'd look up at your puppy dog eyes and pause for a moment. And even though she knows its not gonna fucking work even if she tried-

Fuck, the thought of you, bright and happy and holding her baby, and the thought of watching you knowing you're carrying her child and no one else’s, and knowing that she fucked you so hard that she somehow knocked you up -

"You want me to give you a baby, baby?" She'd murmur, eyes trailing down and falling on your lips, a lazy smile forming on her own.

The way you begin to nod eagerly - desperately almost - at even the slightest sign that she'll agree, makes her huff out a laugh at the stupidness of this all. But she'd be lying if she said the thought didn't have an effect on her.

"C'mon, lay down for me." Ellie would say softly, having her way with you. She'd take her time, too, kissing your lips as a start, before trailing them down your body as she slowly flips you below her. She'd simply make you even needier for it by teasing, brushing her mouth against your collarbone and sucking tiny little lovebites into your skin.

You almost become complacent under her touch, relishing in how her hands trail up your torso and bring your shirt up with them, before finally resting them on your boobs - her hands going higher as her mouth travels lower. And just before her mouth meets the part of you that is aching for her touch, she softly pinches and rolls each nipple between her fingers, eliciting a long, quiet whine from you.

“Ellie-”

“Shhh, I know, I know...” Her voice soothes you as she speaks against your hipbone, before finally pulling your cotton shorts to the side. For a moment she doesn't move, just staring down your body, letting out a small "Fuck...". Then, a small kiss against your clit, barely grazing it, but with enough pressure to make you buck your hips into her face.

God, she missed this. Even if it was just last night that she had you under her like this, but still. She groaned softly into you, fully lost in your taste, your smell, how you were already so wet that it seeped through your underwear and onto her lips, just from a kiss against it. It was as if your roles switched, because now it was Ellie who was desperate, and already drunk on you.

She pulled your underwear to the side and immediately sunk her face into your pussy, tongue messily swirling around your clit, sucking and slurping and tasting every part of you that she could reach with her mouth. Each broken moan you let out only spurred her on to do more, trying to bury her head between your legs, making nasty little smacking noises from her lips sucking against your pussy.

She had to feel you cum against her mouth or she would die, Ellie thought. She wanted you seeing stars by the end of this, only being able to say her name, think of her, her voice, her tongue. She'd make sure you remembered that very well, proving her point by sliding her tongue down, down, down and inside your pussy, thrusting it languidly while replacing where it once was with her thumb.

And it was all so wet for her, too slippery for her thumb to make calculated movements, and instead resorting to messy, uneven rubs against your aching, puffy clit. Her eyes were closed, she was pussy drunk and making noises in tandem with your own as she ate you out. It could have been hours like this - for all she cared - and she still wouldn't have gotten tired of having her head between your legs. As she kept going, she felt your thighs squeeze around her head, your moans turning squeaky and loud and staggered. She heard you plead more and more, "pleasepleaseplease- gonna cum Els-"

She paused, pulling away.

"No."

"What?" You whispered, hazy and confused at being denied your orgasm. Frustrated, you looked down at your girlfriend, only to be met with her looking annoyed, brows furrowed and staring hard at your face.

"Ellie, what-"

"You want a baby, yea? You wanted me to put a baby in you?" You froze for a moment, remembering what initially started this, and nodded. She waited for a moment, before getting off you entirely, tugging your shorts down harshly, all the way off your legs.

"Then m'gonna give you one, kay?" And maybe it was because you just got edged nine ways to hell, but your head cleared up a little. You realised how stupid this was, how it wouldn't even be possible - no matter how hard you wanted it. But with how desperate Ellie looked about this, just ripping the flannel off her shoulders (thank god it was already unbuttoned), tugging her boxers until it was just barely hanging limply on one of her ankles...

"kay..." You nodded.

And then it was silence, no talking, no questions or quips or anything. It was just Ellie shuffling closer and slotting herself between your legs, sinking herself against your clit oh so desperately and then the silence was broken, as you both gasped and whined and moaned at the feeling of her fucking against you, and you her.

“S-shit, you- youfeelsogood-”

“Ellie please don’t stop-”

“M’not- not gonna stop I promise- I gotta make you a mama, m’gonna make you a mama promise I-”

And between every noise you both let out you could just hear how wet everything was, her cunt sloshing against yours, the clicking and squelching so fucking loud from how fast your hips were moving against hers. The clear strings of slick being pulled and broken between the two of you as Ellie rutted back and forth almost turning white, spreading to your thighs and lower stomach. It was so fucking dirty, aimless and haphazard, even. Most of the time her thrusts didn't even connect, just harshly gliding past your clit, providing a vague, rough pleasure all around instead of in one spot only.

But Ellie wasn't looking for precision or rhythm or anything like that, for fucks sake. She wasn't focusing on any of the niceties that came with fucking her girlfriend. All she was focused on, all she could be focused on, was how you damn near begged her to give you a baby. And how she was gonna make it fucking happen.

And it was everywhere, now. All your wetness, her's, too. Even the couch below you was soaking from how much she was grinding against you, and only getting faster as Ellie crept closer and closer to cumming. She could feel you getting closer, as well. She could see your eyes closing and scrunching as your moans got higher and faster once again. She could feel your legs twitching, resisting the urge to close around her waist.

"Can feel you, baby. Gonna cum, yea?" She panted out breathlessly, watching as you nodded arched your back.

"P-please, baby. Pleasepleaseplease- fuck you gotta cum for me-" And it was her turn now, to scrunch up her eyes and make a little 'o' with her mouth, as her grinding turned sloppy when she came against your pussy. She pushed down hard against you, barely even able to move her still-quivering hips while she shook and shivered above you, going just long enough to get you to cum, as well.

She kept moving, despite the overstimulation like a live wire against her, despite how red and puffy her own clit was, still rubbing against yours. And by which time you were all fucked out and dizzy and seeing stars, even whimpering from it all.

"S'too much, Els..."

"I-I know, I just gotta-"

"Just- I can’t-"

"Fuck, okay." She finally relented, pulling away from you and resisting the urge to keep going. She leaned against the side of the couch as you both regained your breath, watching you with a fucked out look in your eyes. She looked deep in thought again, as her own eyes trailed down your body. Suddenly, she leaned down, her hands now dangerously close to your sensitive pussy.

"ohhhfuckk-" Her fingers trailed up and down your slit, collecting every single wet spot that remained, and stuffed it all back inside your pussy.

"Baby we- I- shit, it needs to take, we gotta make sure it works- needs to fucking work." She rambles out, eyes wide and fixated on the slick dribbling out of you as she pushed her fingers in further.

"Baby..." You moaned out, trying to reason with her as her touches almost became unbearable from the overstimulation. She looked up at you, ministrations stopping for a moment as she noticed your pleading eyes. Ellie bit her lip as she thought about it for a moment, before slipping her fingers out. She went quiet as she sat back up, looking like a sad puppy getting scolded when her eyes met yours.

"But- I just......."

"One day, I promise, kay?" And you smiled at how she almost beamed at that. And you might have even matched her expression with how much you wanted it too, but later, when you both were ready.

"Kay." She said, leaning over to kiss you softly. And you stayed like that for a while, the afternoon sun shining through the living room and basking the two of you in a special warmth. And you both indulged, having small talks on what names you would choose, what the nursery would look like, whose nose it would get.

All for the one day, when you both were ready.

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @jayssketchbook @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands

#tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut

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deadmanscalling · 5 months

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yandere knight headcannons

yandere!knight x ruler!reader

warnings: age gap

♞

Yandere Knight, who had been molded into becoming a killing machine for the sake of the kingdom ever since he could swing a sword and pack a punch.

Yandere Knight, who had people dear to him getting punished and killed in his place if he ever showed disobedience towards his rulers.

Yandere Knight, who realized his mistake of ever opening up his heart to people in the first place and refused to never let it happen again.

Yandere Knight, who slowly stopped seeing the importance of kindness and empathy the more he killed over the years and grew to become cold and ruthless.

Yandere Knight, who is nothing but a loyal dog, switching from one owner to another, obeying his master's every command.

Yandere Knight, who turned forty on the day that you, the offspring of his previous ruler, had been crowned at just the young age of twenty-three.

Yandere Knight, who could faintly remember the way you used to look at him when you were just a child. He ,riddled with scars and wounds from battles and his punishments, was in his twenties by the time you could walk and hold a pen. You would hide behind your mother and clutch onto her dress so tightly, scared that the big, bad knight would snatch you and kill you in your sleep.

Yandere Knight, who never really cared about you and barely had any interactions with you until you were twenty and your father had announced that you were the heir of the kingdom.

Yandere Knight, who despite standing by your side obediently, knew you weren’t prepared to be in a position. He could see it in your eyes that you knew it too. You waved awkwardly at the nobles standing at your feet and he could see your anxiety radiating off of you.

Yandere Knight, who couldn’t believe you were his ruler for the foreseen future, if you didn’t run the kingdom into ruin. Despite how he felt, he kept his opinions to himself. He kept a stoic face and followed behind you almost everywhere you went.

Yandere Knight, who soon learned that perhaps you weren’t as stupid as you looked. The more time he spent, he realized you knew what you were doing. From the way you handled the nobles to the way you succeed in getting things to your favor in meetings with diplomats. Even with the way you treated him.

Yandere Knight, who saw you were nothing like your parents when you surprised him with a small cake just meant for him. When you beamed a smile, telling him "Happy Birthday!"

Yandere Knight, who only had one birthday given to him of all forty years of his life and it was before his parents had been murdered. A memory suppressed in the back of his mind for the sake of protecting the only few cherished ones he had.

Yandere Knight, who learned that the only reason you were so nervous that day you had been crowned was because it was his birthday and you felt bad for such a precious days of his was being taken over. So, you decided to bake him a cake with your very two hands and celebrate his birthday the next day.

Yandere Knight, who felt something in his heart and whatever it was, scared him. For a knight to become close with their ruler, it was foreign to him. He was never treated more than a relic and used when proved to be useful. He didn't accept your gift and you didn't push him. You smiled, he could see your sadness but you tried your best to hide it, and nodded, apologizing for troubling him. That didn't help the feeling in his heart.

Yandere Knight, who somehow changed the way he felt towards you. No longer were you this idiotic child to him, but something more. Something more greater than he has ever seen before.

Yandere Knight, who wanted to protect you. Unlike any ruler before you, he had felt like that. It was a requirement, something he could do with his eyes and without a worry in his mind, but with you, he was worried about the dangers lurking around every corner.

Yandere Knight, who had managed to rid the palace of traitors lurking in the shadows without your knowledge. There were spies in the castle who wanted your death and downfall and he wasn't going to allow it to happen, even if it meant killing everyone.

#yandere knight x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere knight x royal reader

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mangosrar · 3 months

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call it what you want pt7.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

over the years, matt had got into many fights, countless punches thrown at people, and almost an infinite number of run ins with those who simply just pissed him off.

but it always shocked you that he was like this. chris and nick we’re such nice people. sure they had both had fights with people before, but matt was ridiculous.

and this factor was part of the reason you couldn’t stand him. you had never been in a fight before. you’d never hit or punched anyone, never even laid a harmful finger on one single person, so the earth shifted a little when you locked eyes on jessica levri, pushing, and yelling in your fake boyfreinds face, because like a hounds blood, you were drawn to it.

you weren’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline from what just happened with matt, or the pure fact that jessica levri had been on her high fucking horse far too long and she needed a rude awakening, but before you could even register what was happening, you were wedging yourself between her and matt and pushing her shoulders, sending her stumbling back.

she looked at you, scoffing like you were the most vile thing on earth.

you’re gaze on her was intense, like she was about to turn to stone any second, and your whole body was red hot with anger.

by now pretty much the whole team were stood around, waiting in anticipation. matt was behind you, chris to your left, caden to your right, and elijah stood behind jess.

you watched as she swapped her eyes from yours to matts, before smirking and opening her mouth.

“get your dog under control matty, it looks like she bites” she sneered.

there was no reply from matt, but you heard him suck in a breath from behind you.

you bit the inside of your cheek. you had gotten this far, but you hadn’t thought it through. what we’re you even going to say?

she laughed before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning down, getting right in your face.

“what? you gonna hit me?”

great idea.

there was no time for any other person to even get a word in edge ways.

as soon as you pulled your hand back, it was like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion.

the whole school was watching.

caden.

matt was right behind you.

oh god your parents, what would they think.

you were probably going to be expelled.

you were about to rock Jessica levris shit in front of half of your town.

there was no turning back now.

the second your fist landed on her face with a searing crack, the whole crowd gasped.

she dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks. clutching her face, crying like a kicked dog.

“yes bitch” you yelled, bending down slightly.

your chest was heaving up and down, red hot fury surging through your veins like the deadliest poison, and somehow it felt exhilarating, like taking a breath after drowning.

everyone stood completely gobsmacked. matt, elijah, caden, chris. all in complete silence, mouths hanging open at your outburst.

there was a brief moment, and the temptation to jump on her and carry on hitting her stupid bitchy face was through the roof.

but just as you went to make a move, hands came around you from behind your waist, throwing you over their shoulder, and escorting you off of the rink, while you kicked and screamed, yelling whoever it was to put you down.

“i mean what we’re you even thinking y/n” chris yelled, pacing up and down the locker room while you sat on the bench, watching him like a disciplined child. he had picked you up and walked you right out, preventing you from causing anymore damage.

about 20 minutes had passed, and still no sign of matt.

“i don’t know” you muttered quietly.

“you know you’re gonna be in trouble right?” he said, coming to a halt and pointing a finger at you.

you simply nodded and looked down.

the both of you just basked in the silence, taking a moment to recollect after the complete shit show that just occurred.

it was now that you were realising, that hitting jessica was the stupidest decision you had ever had. no good would come of it. matt would still probably go back to her, your parents were gonna be furious, ans the school we’re gonna expel you. what a waste of bruised knuckles.

suddenly, the locker room door burst open and matt came rushing through, making both you and chris to snap your heads up in his direction.

“i’ve looked everywhere for you guys” he panted.

“yeah, i had to get this Chihuahua away from the general public, who knows who’s next on her hit list” chris spat. you knew he was angry with you. this was the most out of character thing you’ve ever done.

matt nodded, looking at you, before rubbing a hand over his face and opening his mouth to speak.

“hey uh, would you give us a minute to talk?” he asked, swapping his gaze to his brother.

he just scoffed, not even sparing you a glance, before walking away, slamming the door shut on his way out, making you flinch.

matt watched the door close before padding over to you and sitting down.

you refused to look up at him, too worried to see his expression.

“he’s pissed” matt stated.

you just nodded. keeping your eyes trained to your feet. you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“you broke her nose” he spoke, his tone flat.

“good that bitch deserved it” you scoffed.

matt just shook his head, letting out a breath, before standing up in-front of you.

“what has gotten into you? last i checked, you wouldn’t even talk shit about someone without feeling bad and now you’re hitting people?” he questioned.

“i don’t know matt! i was pissed at you and then she just-“ you cut yourself off, sighing. “i don’t know” you finished. finally bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“so you wanted to hit me, but you hit her instead?” he raised his eyebrows, eyes boring into yours.

you just shrugged, there was no justification for it at all, apart from the fact that she was a complete bitch, and she was right there.

“you can’t just punch people y/n” he said sternly, folding his arms over his chest, looking down at you like a disappointed parent.

“you do” you exclaimed, looking up at him, raising your voice slightly.

“but you’re not me, you’re not like this, you’re nice and smart, and you’re always gentle with people” he shot back. his words threw you off a little. that was probably the nicest thing matt had ever said about you.

you didn’t reply. you just blinked up at him with furrowed brows.

matt sighed before taking a seat next to you again.

“for what it’s worth, i’d punch your ex for no reason” he said. turning to look at you.

“thanks matt. that means a lot. that doesn’t change the fact that everyone is pissed at me” you yelped, throwing your hands up and letting them fall, and slap against your legs.

“chris will come round, and i’m not pissed at you” he spoke lowly.

you sighed, and turned your head to look at him, and the look that he was giving you made you want to squeeze your thighs together.

there was something written on his face that you couldn’t decipher. his eyes were low and dilated. like he was hungry for something.

there it was again, that moment of silence, both of you just staring at eachother.

matt brought his hand up to brush against your face, then letting it cup your cheek, and in that very moment, you did know better.

your lips were on his in less than a second, pushing and pulling against him.

you felt his tongue prod at your lips. begging for entrance witch you granted, and he was all over you, running his tongue along the roof of your mouth, making you whine and matt smirked against your lips.

his hands came round to pull you up onto his lap and you happily obliged. running your hands up his chest and round to the back of his neck, tugging his hair, pulling a low groan from matts mouth, as his hands ran up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer.

the kiss was hot and sloppy, the both of you, somehow, relishing in the hatred for one another, but basking in the tension.

you felt matts hands travel down to your ass, pushing you back and pulling you forward, making you rock your hips against his, and you damn near dropped to your knees, before a voice snapped you both out of it.

“well this is a sight for sore eyes”.

—————————————-—————————————

also my taglist is not working, so if it says i haven’t tagged you, trust me i tried 💕

this long as fuck taglist: @sturnssan @biplrbtch bitch @valerieburkens @ukyios @eyelessdemon00 @iheart2021chris @hearts4chris @leah-loves-lilies @whicked-hazlatwhore e @lexihowardsgf @1201pm-blog m @chrislover911 @yourmom-123456789 5 @x4nd3rsukz @ilovechrissturnioloposts @mattnchrisworld @leoloveeeee e @jazab3lla @martyniukpl @sturnbaby @knowingnothingnoel @ilovemattstromboli i @obsessedwithyou @dragonstoneshortcake @breeloveschris @biinthisbitch13 @skyteller143 @innocentfsin @mattswifue @thatcrazybitch-69 @ihateeveryone357474 4 @shmophsturniolo o @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 @sturnisposts @jenna0rtegaswife @jeffbuckleylvr27 @katelynmeier14 @sara2233445 @alexb25598 @sturniolos4lifee @st7rnioloss @kasiaslayuje @causeidontlikegolsrush @cosmicmistake42069 9 @xxloveralways14 @24kmar @creamoncreamoncream2 @kennyhop @khloe7233 @sofiasnookiee @sfdfgy @iker-blog1 yn @sleepdeprivedandinsane @quinnroki @lvr444life e @ffhgdxgg @travelintheworld2 @aubreyswift13 @sturniololol @starziick @heartlesssturniolos @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes

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star-girl69 · 3 months

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imagine the little family but reader gets hit on by one of the new campers and the rest of the camp is waiting to see ivy and clarisse reaction 🌚

I LOVE THIS OMMGGGGGG

no bc this is specifically so funny and dear to me bc imagine

you’re like sitting with ivy and playing in the sand on the beach having a fun time

and then hi harry from better than revenge in an alternate universe

clarisse has been so busy lately bc it’s the start of summer and there’s all these new campers and things

so you haven’t been around each other as much 💔

dumbass harry walks over to you and is like “it’s so sweet how you treat your younger sibling like your own”

and ivy is preening at the attention of this nice boy who quickly realizes the way to your heart is through ivy

you just think he’s nice and playing with ivy in the sand and making a killer sand castle tbh….

then he says smth a little flirty like a compliment but neither you or ivy think much of it at first

then he’s like “oh hey here you have some sand on your face” and leans so close to you to brush your cheek with his thumb

woah buddy 😟😟😟😟😟

ivy is like ok what the freak (she’s not supposed to swear) (let’s be real she still does)

bc like she’s not dumb….. she knows the only person who touches you like this is clarisse and yeah this guy is nice but she doesn’t like him THAT much

he doesn’t look that strong he can’t be her jungle gym she’s not liking it

you’re sitting there in shock and ivy is getting mad bc HE SHUFFLES CLOSER TO YOU

she climbs into your lap and starts SCREAMING bloody murder and kicking out wildly at harry

“Y/N I WANT TO GO Y/N I WANT TO GO I WANT TO GO I WANT TO GO”

so you pick her up and rush your little butts out of there and harry is trying to follow you bc THIS BITCH WILL NOT GIVE UP DAMN

and you’re looking over your shoulder like GO AWAY

after another second you think he’s gone so you set ivy down

you crouch down and you’re pretty sure she just didn’t like harry flirting w you but you just wanna make sure smth wasn’t actually wrong

“hey are you guys okay?”

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” is ivy’s war cry as she jumps on top of harry and starts screaming and kicking and hitting him

AND YOURE SCREAMING TOO BC WTF??????

“IVY YOU GET DOWN RIGHT NOW NO DESSERT FOR THREE DAYS I SWEAR”

eventually everyone kinda heads towards the commotion of this 10 year old screaming and attacking harry and you desperately trying to pull ivy off of him

that is when clarisse walks over

she just stares at the scene for a second in absolute shock

then harry finally pushes ivy off of him and she FLIES into you like he pushed her HARD bc he’s a BITCH

and you weren’t expecting it so you fall back w ivy in your arms

CLARISSE IS ABOUT TO GO INSANE

she runs over but harry is like NO NO NO MY CHANCES ARE RUINED

so he’s desperately trying to help you up and you’re like oh my god i think i’m gonna die

ivy starts attacking him like a feral dog again

“YOU- HURT- MY- Y/N- STUPID HEAD!!!!!!!”

you need a leash for her atp

but by the time clarisse makes it over to you she realizes what’s going on

she crouches down next to you and says ivy’s name really intimidatingly and ivy is like

“OMG HI CLARISSE I LITERALLY SAVED Y/N’S LIFE ARENT YOU PROUD OF ME”

and after she looks over you and sees that your find just a little shocked and very tired (motherhood is hard) she decides to glare at harry

“okay and what does that mean?”

“ok so we were playing in the sand and then harry comes over and he’s nice and he’s helping me build my sandcastle and then he starts TOUCHING Y/N and getting all CLOSE TO HER and i was like woah wait hold on what the freak so then i threw a tantrum so we would leave BUT HE KEPT FOLLOWING!!!!!!! I JUST WANTED HIM TO GO AWAY BC YOURE THE ONLY ONE WHO TOUCHES Y/N LIKE THAT SO I ATTACKED HIM AND THEN HE PUSHED ME SO I ATTACKED HIM MORE BUT NOW YOURE HERE!!!!!!”

harry is just horrified bc that’s exactly what happened this child was just throwing a tantrum 5 minutes ago how is she so articulated

she’s just smart like that tho

clarisse is like “oh so you’re flirting with my girlfriend? are you dumb? literally everyone knows.”

harry just accepts defeat and mutters a few choice words under his breath and walks away

clarisse debates about punching him but decides that ivy has already done all of the work for her

ivy hugs clarisse so tight

“you are so amazing my little warrior you did such a great job protecting y/n i am so proud”

then you join the hug “yes you’re my little knight in shining armor but please remember violence is not always the answer”

ivy and clarisse share a look like “this crazy lady just be saying stuff”

“EXCUSE ME???? BC I KNOW YOU TWO DIDNT JUST LOOK AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT-”

you try to actually make ivy skip dessert for a few days but she’s so adorable so you give it to her anyways

clarisse teaches her how to properly throw a punch and kick someone

you are not pleased

ivy is ecstatic her new passion is fighting

harry stays far away from you

also percy is now campaigning to bring awareness to the clarisse and mini clarisse epidemic

he is very concerned.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family

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lazycats-stuff · 9 months

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May i request a baby bat (preferably male) that's left at home with a babysitter (it was after Alfred's surgery or he could just be sick but he's resting) while everyone is out on missions and the babysitter is completely ignoring the babies cries for food and a diaper change while titus is trying to comfort him (btw i noticed that you write titus as doberman even though he's a great dane? Please don't take offense i didn't know if this was on purpose or not so i just thought I'll point it out!) baby ends up crawling out of his crib, out of the doggy door and into the streets in only a diaper and shorts and of course titus is right behind, every time baby tries to go into traffic titus is gently nudging him away with his snout , every time a random person tries to pick up the baby and take him to the police titus is not having it, until eventually word reaches the batfam about this and they go to investigate and the unbelievable anger they felt after watching the camera footage of inside their house, you can choose what happens to the babysitter but family fluff with the baby please! Sorry if this is long i just heard from other writers that the more details they have the easier it is to write, thank you!

Okay, thank you for pointing it out that Titus is a great dane because, I could swear on anything, that Titus is a Doberman. I'm not sure whether or not I need new glasses or a new brain. And don't worry, I'm not offended, just shocked that I'm that dumb and blind. Either way lets get to writing.

Summary: (Y/N) has to be babysat by somebody outside of the family. It doesn't end well.

Warnings: child neglect, Titus is the best dog, the batfam loosing their minds, again child neglect if anyone is sensitive to that, babysitter is awful.

This GIF is in honor of Titus and I know Titus isn't the same color, but it's too cute.

Bruce was very hesitant to leave his young son with an outsider. He was a baby and Bruce might be protective, but this is his first son who was a baby, so unable to defend himself, so vulnerable. Jason sometimes said a bit stupid, but that they had a sense of who was who.

Whenever he cried, Bruce was the one to calm him down. And (Y/N) could tell when to do help out the family. He still remembers how Lex took him from his arms and Jason was ready to deck him. What did (Y/N do?

Threw up on a very expensive Italian suit. Bruce was apologizing, but with absolutely no sincerity in his voice. Jason took (Y/N) at the time, cooing at the baby, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

Bruce was impressed with how much babies had a sense for people. Maybe that should have been thinking of that when he hired the babysitter. (Y/N) was fine with Bruce, but with the babysitter he got a bit fussy. But Bruce brushed it off, thinking it must be because she is new. But Bruce had no choice. Alfred is recovering and they are swamped with missions.

And it seems that (Y/N) was right about his feeling about this babysitter. After caring for a few hours, (Y/N) was forgotten. Bruce had given the babysitter a very specific schedule on when (Y/N) was supposed to be fed and when he was going to go to sleep.

(Y/N) was crying, because he was hungry. He was squirming in his crib, the diaper heavy due to being unchanged. The only person who seemed to care, well, an animal who seemed to care was Titus, Damian's dog. The Great Dane fell in love with (Y/N) from the moment he has seen him as a newborn.

Everyone was slightly worried, but the Great Dane was great with (Y/N). Always near him, always coming to check on him when he is crying, or just to watch him play. Even when Damian is taking him for a walk or just to play outside, he always has to have (Y/N) watching. So more often then not, Damian is carrying (Y/N) in a baby carrier while in the yard with Titus.

And Titus came to (Y/N)'s room, wondering why his baby brother was crying. He sniffed his hands and gave them a lick to comfort his brother. (Y/N) stopped crying for a second, but he still sniffled. Titus sniffed down at the diaper. He whined a bit from the smell too.

Bruce said that Titus had a superpower when it came to (Y/N)'s diapers. Although just a good sense of smell, Titus alerted everyone when (Y/N)'s diaper needed to be changed. Anyone he could find, he would lead them to (Y/N).

Now (Y/N) was slightly less upset, but still upset. Titus tilted his head when he saw how (Y/N) turned on his stomach and started moving through a small opening. (Y/N) was now crawling out of the room and Titus followed. The babysitter was laughing on the phone, laughing at whatever the friend said.

(Y/N) crawled to the kitchen, stopping for a second. He moved to the back door, crawling through the doggy door. Titus followed without hesitation, walking right behind (Y/N).

Eventually, they have reached the city. Titus was never a fan of it, believe it or not. He preferred the backyard and its quietness. He never liked the smell of it either.

(Y/N) tried to get to the road and Titus was quick to push him away from them. They continued walking and it looked like something out a movie. Maybe a children's cartoon.

And not a good one.

A lady tried to pick (Y/N) up, but Titus made a biting sound at her, not wanting her to take his baby brother. She backed off and (Y/N) continued on his adventure. Well, there was some luck to it. James Gordon aka Jim Gordon was driving by and stopped the car.

He met the family and they were good friends. He recognized Titus and he recognized (Y/N). He stopped the car and got out, moving towards the animal baby duo.

" (Y/N)! What are you doing here champ? " Gordon said, crouching down in front of the baby. Titus bared his teeth, but relaxed when he saw that it was Gordon.

" And what are you doing here Titus? Either way, lets get you both to the station. "

(Y/N) was picked up and Titus waited in front on the passengers side. Gordon opened it and Titus squeezed himself in. Gordon sat back inside and went directly to the station. He needed to change (Y/N)'s diapers and call Bruce Wayne. Something is off.

Bruce was on the way back home, just ready to crash. His kids were with him too and they all wanted to see (Y/N) after being separated for so long. It felt awful. All of a sudden there was a call in the car. Bruce accepted, not even looking at who it was.

" Yes? "

" Hey Bruce, it's Jim. There is some news about your youngest. "

Everyone was alert now.

" What do you mean? "

" He was found wandering the streets. Titus was with him, moving him away from the traffic. Is anyone watching him? "

" Babysitter is supposed to... Why? " Bruce asked, now worried.

" Well, he was in a desperate need of a diaper change and a bottle. He downed a bottle. "

Bruce was speechless. What!?

" Okay, I'm going to the station now, I also have the camera feed on my phone so I can check what the hell happened. " Bruce said, taking his phone out. He unlocked and handed it to Tim next to him.

" Tim, check the footage. I want to know what's happening. " Bruce said, taking a sharp turn.

" Hang on, let me find it. " Tim said, looking for the said footage.

Bruce floored the gas pedal, making sure to be fast as possible. He parked with a screech and everyone got out of the car. Bruce and the others went inside, moving quickly to the offices and they saw Titus and people around him, just petting him, but Gordon was sitting in the chair with (Y/N) on his lap.

" Hey Bruce. " Gordon said, watching the distraught father taking his son into his arms, cooing and swaying him.

" Oh my son, what were you doing in the streets? " Bruce said, kissing his son on the head. Titus went to Damian and Damian gave him scratches and praises.

" Good boy, you followed (Y/N) and made sure he was safe. "

" I have something B. It seems that the babysitter ignored (Y/N). " Tim said and everyone crowded around Tim to see. Everyone in the room looked in shock as they watched the babysitter ignore (Y/N). Titus was there to comfort him at least.

" Oh no. Oh hell no old man. " Jason said, clenching his fists.

" Don't worry mister Todd, we will arrest her. " Gordon said.

" Good. Oh my poor brother. Hand him over. " Jason said, taking (Y/N) into his arms.

" Damian, remind me to buy Titus everything he wants next time we go to the pet shop. " Jason said, kissing his brother's head.

" Will do. Now can we go to the manor to arrest her? " Damian asked, and Gordon agreed.

The babysitter walked out of the manor in cuffs, protesting. Bruce didn't waste his words, he went to his room and laid down on the bed and then laying (Y/N) down on his chest.

The others filed in, laying down to Bruce on both sides. They were comfortable on the Alaskan bed, happy to be near their baby brother.

" Night everyone. " Bruce said.

There were murmurs of good night and all of them could finally fall asleep, with their baby brother near them. Oh and Titus?

That good boy, no, the best boy laid down at the foot of the bed, also guarding the little boy.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #batfamily #x male reader #batkids #batman x child!male reader #bruce wayne #batman #platonic relationships

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chaotic-iguana · 5 months

Text

lovers’ spat, part i

miggy is an oblivious overworking idiot and fails to see you’ve had a bad day. he eventually makes up for it, though. (there will be a smut follow-up)

warnings: no smut (yet). just some nice angst (the girls are fightinggggg hehehe)

it starts with a missed alarm. then a sip of too-hot coffee burning your tongue. being late to work, getting yelled at by your boss, then by a client and finally by some randomon the fucking street when you’re walking home and he’s catcalling you and you refuse to look his way.

so yeah. it’s been a shit day.

but you’ve opened a portal to nueva york, you’re close to hq and you know migs will be inside and ready to take care of you. so all hope is not lost. yet. you burst through the double doors, half-sprinting to the elevator to reach his…lair? office is too mild for it, really. (eh, miguel’s a moody guy. it fits his vibe.)

you’re just about to walk in but you’re stopped by the call of your name paired with a babbling baby behind you. twisting to see the top of mayday’s head disappear behind him, you watch as peter b walks towards you with a grimace on his face and purple blooming under his eyes.

“are you…alright? you look a bit rough.” it sounds funny as you say it - take one look in the fucking mirror and you’d be saying it to yourself - but you can’t stop yourself from asking. he does look tired. and upset. which is entirely unlike him, but they do say parenthood is an adjustment. plus, it can’t be easy balancing being a spider and a dad and a journalist all at the same time. an offer to babysit bubbles in your mouth but stops at him shaking his head with a wry grin.

“today’s been rough. to be honest, i doubt miguel’s gonna be able to see you right now - we just caught an anomaly who stopped a canon event. he’s dealing with the fallout.” he’s speaking slowly, like he’s placating a child or dog. your frown must be obvious, because he starts chuckling nervously and follows up with a “but i’m sure he can work it out! goodnight!” before he’s swinging away - typical of a man who loves setting fires but never knows quite what to do with the ashes.

so now you’re stomping into miguel’s office, tearing through the tranquility of silence as you scowl at the raised platform and squint through the frankly shitty lighting. the sound of his fingers on the keyboard halts, and you think you hear him take a deep breath before his voice rings out.

“‘m busy, cariño. be home late tonight. don’t wait up.”

and it’s the way he says it, the irritation and annoyance glinting in his monotone words that has you seeing red, until your fingers are clenched in fists and your teeth are bared in the direction of his stupid, stupid platform. (you’d rip it apart with your bare hands if you could. why can’t he just work on the floor like a normal person? fucking medieval villain much? why don’t you just menacingly twiddle your thumbs and mwahaha while coming down then. idiot.)

you’re barely thinking straight, fury sparking in your veins and thrumming in your blood as you rip off a sandal and chuck it in the vague direction of the stupid thing. it’s not like you can tell, because your migraine and miguel’s shitty decor seem to have teamed up to fucking impair your vision and why in the fuck did he have to blow you off tonight of all nights-

your heel clunks against the metal, clattering to the ground with a pathetic thud. a sharp intake of his breath through his nose - loud enough to let you know he’s pissed - and therecomes the creaking of the dumb thing being lowered, inch by inch. you wait as the top of his head appears, hair standing in all directions and you just know he’s been doing that thing he does absentmindedly where he runs his hands through it over and over when he’s focused. and normally it’s cute but right now you just want to scream at him or walk away and you’re not quite sure which one to lean towards. and then he comes into view, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, hands stiff by his sides while he…frowns at you? lunging off the platform, he crouches to pick up your shoe before stalking over in your direction, glaring down at you.

“por qué joder harías eso?” he’s snarling now, jaw tensing with the effort it takes for him to spit the words at you. it makes you flinch, the forceful weight of his words and his tone and the way he’s towering over you like you’re one of those anomalies he hunts and something in your chest just cracks at the sight. straightening your spine, you curl your fingers around his to snatch back your shoe before slipping it on.

“qué esperabas? what did you expect, miguel? that i come here after a long day to find out again, for the billionth fucking time that my husband is too busy fighting something new-because there is always something new-to so much as look at me when he basically tells me to fuck off.”

eyes wild, your chest heaves as you meet his fierce look with one of your own. you can see him processing what you said, guilt flashing in his eyes for a split second before it’s replaced by concern. you can see him softening, reaching out - but you don’t want it right now. don’t quite know what to do with the sudden care in his eyes just moments after he was being so dismissive towards you. and if you’re honest - after the day you’ve had, it’s easier to cling to the venom coating your next words than it is to give into however the fuck he’s planning on fixing the situation.

“vete a la mierda, miguel. don’t come home tonight.”

and with that, you walk out.

you make it three steps before lyla pops up, wincing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. you’re scrambling for your watch, fumbling your way through portalling home to curl up in bed. you can distantly tell she’s cooing something at you, placating and warm, but you’re too far gone to hear it; the AI too much of a reminder of miguel for your comfort. a wave of your hand through her hologram and a stumble through the portal, and she’s gone too.

well, fuck. that couldn’t have gone worse.

v excited to continue this one. as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day<3

taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @pertinentpostmortem i know most of y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — h-hello firefighter!bakugou and heart surgeon!reader

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, sfw. mentions of hospitals, surgeons, fires, firefighting, mutual pining, crushes, he has a huge crush on you ok!! and yes i’m sorry, this is grey’s anatomy inspired ajaja

“so— open wide— what brings you in this time, blondie?”

bakugou looks at you, petulant like a child and pissed all at once— begrudgingly letting you pry open his plump rosey lips with what looks like a popsicle stick. he sticks out his tongue for good measure, letting you inspect the back of his throat for black specks of ash while he eyes you up. not that you mind.

“purse pooch,” he grunts once you let him free to notes on your clipboard to document the state of his health. he watches your hands, stable and good enough to hold hearts and feel them beat. you’ve got a grip on his own heart and you hardly know the extent of it. “some chick left her stupid dog in her apartment while the building burnt down.” your fingers are soft as they brush over his chest and then his back before you reach for your stethoscope. “i told you, ‘m fine.”

rolling your eyes, you press the cool metal tool to bakugou’s back— his shoulders rippling at the cool temperature and his tight protective shirt does nothing to hide the dips of each muscle beneath it. “who’s the chief of cardio at this hospital, blondie?” you tease him, feeling around for the dull thump of his heart. the one that you’re so used to. the one that you love to hear. you’ve been treating katsuki since you were an intern and he’d just started out as a firefighter— now you’re here, years later, an attending in cardio at a top trauma-focused hospital in Japan and katsuki, the captain of his regiment.

bakugou rebuttals with pettish silence and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “exactly. i am.” there’s something about the way his heart sounds… beating faster and faster until it seems like it’s going to burst. it makes your face drop because as a doctor, it sounds like his heart is sick and not like he’s panicked over how close you are. “and i don’t go telling you how to do your job mister ‘i run into fires and save stupid dogs’, although i should. i see you in this ER more than i see my own apartment. dogs aren’t stupid by the way.”

“they are, ‘nd i told you, i’m fine.” amused, the blonde swats you away and clears his throat nervously when you meet his eye, moving to face him with the stethoscope hovering over his chest this time. stupidly and perfectly sculpted, it makes you hot under the skin.

“are not,” you respond to both of his statements like a child goading another one into getting in trouble. you even stick your tongue too. “and the girl was obviously worried sick about her pet. they can mean a lot people. just as much as a person can. when you love something, someone, their lives are important.”

just as you finish your wistful speech, katsuki’s pulse speeds on the monitor and your resident who had taken over charting perks up at the incessant beeping. “uh, doc? should we be concerned about that?”

you shouldn’t be. medically, it’s nothing — the firefighter is just flustered by you and your existence. how you speak so tenderly about someone’s love for something. to everyone else in this hospital including you, katsuki’s heart rate could be an indicator of something dangerous or life-ending instead of the obvious crush he has on you.

bakugou’s cheeks warm as he tries to bat your resident off of him— he can just tell that they want something to be wrong with him so the case can turn surgical. “get off’a me, twerp!” he spits, sourly. “i’m fine!”

“i’m the doctor, i decide when you’re fine. you decide when and how the fire goes out.” you’re scolding him, bantering with the man and it drives him up the wall— gives him another reason to fall for you.

relenting, and no longer fighting treatment— bakugou keeps talking to you, hungry for more than just your medical attention. “okay, the dog wasn’t stupid. it was…just dumb of the chick to leave him. he meant a lot to her son ‘nd that typa carelessness pisses me off. went back in to keep the kid from losin’ his animal…am i off the hook now?”

“so you do have a heart, i knew you went back in there for a reason.” you smile softly despite your worry for his health, repeatedly checking his pulse on the monitor until you can get it down. “he’s got elevated breath sounds on the right and a racing pulse. no soot in his lungs but i’d like to get him up to CT just to double check.” you tell your resident and step back to put the arms of his bed up.

“how many times do i gotta tell you, doc? i’m fine!”

bakugou grows grumpier. maybe because after all these years of him coming in for check-ups…you haven’t realised how much he likes you.

how much me might even love you.

“i know that, but i want to make sure, and i figured you’d want to stay with me for a few extra hours while i check up on you.” honey runs through his ears as you speak, leaning over bakugou to lower his bed and wheel him around with your resident.

bakugou blushes profusely, forgets how to breathe and how to speak. “s-shut up,” he stutters.

because you still don’t know how much of his heart you hold in your practiced hands.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagines #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 5 months

Note

I really liked that one ask from before where the MC paired up with an NRC boy to do the flour baby project, could I ask for a repeat of that but with Silver, Vil, Floyd, Idia, and Ortho?

Floyd Leech:

You cannot leave your flour baby alone with Floyd as it will be in harm's way; he convinced you of this even more when he began talking about survival of the fittest, and his other siblings that never made it through the gauntlet. It practically feels like Floyd is the one you’re really looking after, especially when your attention leaves him for even a second as you tried to focus on the baby. You think the teacher must hold a grudge against you to put you in this situation but you’re determined to turn him into a father figure (and you might die trying).

Idia Shroud:

Idia wished the school would get with the times and just give a game simulation type project rather than making him lug around a flour sack in a diaper all day. It was like a Magikarp holding an Everstone, doomed to stay in its useless state forever. It almost led him to an existential crisis as he had a nightmare of himself turning in a bag of flour, never able to enjoy trolling online or flexing how much smarter he was when it came to technology ever again. You do help ground him (and perhaps add a different stress) by being closer with him, this surprise event giving him the perfect excuse to spend time with you despite the flour sack in the room.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t get the point of the assignment as the sack of flour could never properly simulate taking care of a real child. He’s excited to do this project with you thought, listing off every parenting tip he could find until you practically thought you were in a reality where you were pregnant (regardless of how capable of that you really were). He’s fiercely protective of his flour baby, glaring (and nearly vaporizing) an innocent school chef who mistook his baby as a misplaced bag of flour. Ortho even offered up a tearful goodbye, keeping his fond memories of raising his baby with you locked away somewhere safe where he’d never forget.

Silver:

Silver takes the project seriously, but his sleep prone habits leave you a little worried your sweet flour child may be kidnapped by a group of birds and never seen again. He dutifully keeps it strapped to him while patrolling, sometimes even forgetting it's there as he questions why everyone keeps looking at him. This project is your first glance at the sweeter side of Silver, leaving you enamored with a man who showed genuine kindness and care to even an inanimate object.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil loathed the thought of lugging flour around all day, not thrilled with the concept it might dirty his uniform at some point. He’s not about to get a failing grade either, showing a determination to glam his baby up. You mostly follow his lead on this one for the sake of his happiness and your sanity, knowing he wouldn’t go too far. You almost found the small dog outfits he put on your flour sack child cute. It’s like they were having their own father/child bonding time, with Vil even showing them his favorite films to share a little moment together (before he felt entirely too stupid and tried to forget about it).

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Floyd Leech #Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Silver #TWST Silver #Vil Schoenheit #Floyd Leech x Reader #Idia Shroud x Reader #Ortho Shroud x Reader #Silver x Reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader

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madebycloud · 6 months

Text

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season!

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters.

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla.

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun.

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you.

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories.

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her.

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter.

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.”

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.”

“Just... once?”

“Just once,” she repeats.

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?”

“Understood.” You grinned.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!”

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the garish plumber's costume she was forced to wear. She even had to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she was sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You winked, but she was having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groaned inwardly. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snaked around your wrist, her grip was so tight you could feel it even through your gloves.

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs.

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a quick smile and head towards the house.

You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door.

That was rude.

You returned to Wednesday, your shoulders slumping as you held up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She could almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside.

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy.

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies.

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbled as she walked alongside you, still holding onto your hand. Her hand slipped into your biceps, yet she hardly even noticed.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you.

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume.

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe someone had recognized her in her stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She could swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turned to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waved at both of you. “Hey Eugene!”

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replied eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widened. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward.

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone.

Wednesday snapped her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she would never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looked at your smile and realized that, despite her aversion to the costume, she didn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured.

She couldn't deny the warmth in her chest as she watched the picture saved to your phone.

—

You realized that your feet were starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your tired legs, the two of you made your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees.

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She eventually pulled out one of the candies and popped it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her.

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts.

You were almost too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips.

Small smile formed on her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She offered the candy before you swallowed it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday had leaned in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pulled away, you were left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips part slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a gentle hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before. Your lips lock together in a sensual dance.

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Wednesday's eyes narrow, clearly annoyed at your choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

She rolls her eyes, but you could already see the corner of her lips twitching up into a small smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday imagine #wedneday addams imagines #wednesday series #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you #wednesday x fem!reader #jenna x reader #reader insert #female reader

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her.

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath.

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl.

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes.

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so.

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction

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arabellasleopardcoat · 17 days

Text

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

237 notes · View notes

oceansprompts · 10 months

Text

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

#rp sentence meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #sentence starters #text message prompts

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faeriekit · 12 days

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Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone.

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline.

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears.

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink.

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?”

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay.

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door.

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book.

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering.

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere.

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale.

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge.

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here.

…Maybe he should look downstairs?

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny.

Danny floated down deeper.

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow.

They ended at a closed door.

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through.

On the other side was a ghost.

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave.

Danny barely made it three doors down.

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered.

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath.

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!”

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped.

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away.

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question.

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this?

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way?

Danny followed him into the room.

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest.

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head.

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true?

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous.

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response.

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?”

No.

The ghost added nothing more.

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine.

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire.

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him.

…Huh.

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move.

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?”

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?”

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning.

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy.

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.”

Oh.

…Oh.

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him.

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia.

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?”

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.”

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.”

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?”

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone.

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal.

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.”

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed.

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again.

#phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #vlad masters #I forget Alicia's last name ngl #dead fenton parents #Jazz is sir not appearing in this film #danny fenton #good!Vlad au #phic phight #RIP a prarie home companion you were a cool show but your host was [REDACTED] of course you were gonna get cancelled #my and my persistent love of landlines #faer fic #I do not LIKE vlad. However. This intrigued me.#dead ghost man who furthers the study of ghosts while knowing his college besties might take advantage of him for their own research. whack #anyway. the portal blew up #phic phight 24

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