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thatsdemko · 10 months

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feeling better - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: y(ish)- “Hi! Sorry, can I make a shameless suggestion 🙈🤭 that some more husband Charles content like drought would be fun to say the least, sexy and cute as heck!”

p.s. - to the anon, I’m keeping your request around in my inbox in the event that this is 1. not what you wanted and 2. because I have other husband!charles fics in my drafts similar to drought that I think you might love xx

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x wife!reader

warnings: mentions of periods + oral (m receiving) + not intended for minors

a/n: inspired by @thisismeracing’s beautiful mick fic that I just can’t get out of my head! I’m not entirely proud of this smut! I haven’t wrote anything filthy in so long so I apologize I’m not into my groove, but I just love husband!charles and if anyone has any req’s for husband!charles lmk ;)

this is for all the period havers going thru a tough time rn (believe been there done that last week) xx

“so I’ve been thinking—“

“well that’s never good.”

“can I finish?” well he’s rather sassy today, you think to yourself.

shutting your phone off, you give him your undivided attention, “alright talk.”

Charles rolls his eyes thinking the same thing, those damn hormones of yours had a way of making your words rough on the edge and bitter at the tongue. but he finds it hot, he likes when you get a little grouchy and filled with an edge. it’s rare.

“since you’re not feeling well—“

“I never said I was—“

“ah that’s where you’re wrong.” a smirk tugs at his lips that he tries to contain as he takes the empty seat next to you on the couch, “it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’re on your period, and talking to my mother about it was where you failed.”

“well it shouldn’t take my husband that long to figure it out.” you bite back. being married for three years and having dated prior, you’d imagine by now he’d be an expert of knowing when that time of the month came around.

“you want to try again with a different tone?”

“you want to try me, leclerc?”

you stare each other down neither one of you backs down until he rolls his eyes and his shoulders soften, “can I just offer my help? or will you bite my head off?”

“depends,” you tilt your head, “what’s the offer?”

“sex. unless you’re too busy being an asshole then my dick is off the table.”

you let out a laugh that you can’t contain and throw your arms around his neck allowing his hand to wrap up under your shirt. his fingers move up and down your back, you notice his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when he discovers you’re not wearing a bra.

“no bra?” he says, but it comes out rather like a question. you watch the wheels turn in his head like it’s his lucky day.

“my boobs are sore.”

“let me take care of that.” he turns in his seat pressing a hard passionate kiss against your lips. you can feel the electricity of the kiss run down your spine and warm your insides up. your cold heart softens under him.

“I’m sorry I was mean—“

“shut up, I love it.” his breath is rigid in between the heat of your bodies against each other and from the sloppy kisses, “I like dirty.”

“it’s going to be a bitch to clean—“

“I’m not talking about that dirty.” he cuts you off. his hands yank your shirt over your head revealing your perky breasts. he stands up from the couch, carefully laying you down against the black leather cushions, “I’m talking about your mouth.”

his hand barely cups one of your breasts. it sends an ache through your body and a shiver down your spine as you try to relax. the look on your face reminds him to go easy, and he does. his mouth wraps around the nipple, tongue ever so ghostly swipes across your flesh.

you gasp at the sensitivity, begging for more of his tongue, “Charles,”

“too much?”

“so good.” you moan into his skin, mouth hovering over the crook of his neck he forgets how to breathe for a second.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask. carefully removing your shorts, you reveal the most unattractive pair of underwear you could be wearing. Charles doesn’t seem to notice or even care, he just nods along pulling out a condom that’s surely useless during this time.

“do you not want to have sex? I thought it would help? does it not? is the internet a liar—“

you rip the condom off his cock and just wrap your mouth around the tip getting him to shut up. his breath hitches, cock drips in precum, your warm tongue swirls, twirls, and slurps up every bit of him.

his ragged breathing fills your ears. your teeth gently press into the skin of his cock earning him to release right into your mouth. he watches you swallow with a smile on your face before leaning yourself back against the couch cushions.

“the internet was right, you girls are incredibly horny.”

“just horny for you,” you whisper wrapping your legs around his hips feeling his cock go straight for your clit.

there was no messing around. he had scoured the internet for hours and knew the best pleasure comes from the clit. and pleasure was all you ever asked for on your period, it’s too bad Mother Nature could never deliver what Charles was giving.

“horny for you, and your big dick.”

he slams into your clit again, a raspy moan exits your lips. you feel yourself coming undone underneath him. your legs shake, head becomes fuzzy until you release against him.

“merde,” he mutters under his breath, “I’ll be right back.” he gets up from the couch, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, he leaves and soon comes back with a towel and a smile.

“you want a hot bath?”

“it’ll only be hot if you’re in there with me.” you reply feeling the rough material against your inner thighs not even daring to look at the mess.

“I’m always down for round two. especially in the tub.”

“well then don’t leave me hanging, let’s go.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix

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ne0n-fantasies · 1 month

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Can I just get an absolutely wicked chase with a Naga or Yautja of your choice go absolutely crazy. Like being hunted down by them and trying to run away but you can never outrun a supernatural being. it can be horror or nsfw or both or just anything you’d like i just need that chase UGHHH so good

gender neutral reader if possible 🙏‼️

• 💪 anon

I went through about 5 different ideas for this before I settled on one, I hope you like it!! I will absolutely do nsfw for a part 2 :)

Naga x GN!Reader

In which the reader encounters a forgotten deity

♡ Pt.2 here ♡

On cold windless nights, when the moon is bright and casts shadows of the wispy clouds, a serpent hunts. Searching for its next victim, to deliver its wrath upon. A forgotten deity, at least that's what the elders of your village said.

One claimed to have seen it. Half man and half snake, with scales that gave off a hypnotic shine. Eyes as cold as the winter months, but with a hunger unlike anything a mortal would know. You should have believed them.

It was fun, at first. Sneaking away from the village with your friends, laughing around a fire in the woods. Until one of them vanished. You thought nothing of it at first, maybe they had needed to relieve themselves in the bushes. But when another went looking for them, and vanished as well, your small group started to panic.

Soon you were alone. A burning pain filled your lungs as you ran, not caring where you ended up, just wanting to get away. You had hardly seen it before you took off, an ethereal figure in the trees. Larger than any man you'd seen, its pale skin glowing beneath the moonlight. And the scales. White, iredescent scales. That was all you had needed to see.

You could hear it behind you, snarling words in some ancient tongue- warnings. Still, you ran. Tripping over branches and roots, scraping yourself on thorns- but you didn't care. You took a sharp turn, hoping to throw off the monster, only for a scream to be ripped from your lungs. It was much faster than you.

You could taste dirt and blood in your mouth, your ears ringing as you try to push yourself off the forest floor. You couldn't, though, a heavy weight pressing against your lower back. A hollow, ghostly voice brushed against your ear- the breath like frost against your skin. You didn't understand what it was saying, and you only hoped it would make your death quick.

The thoughts racing through your mind stopped. Your eyes grew tired, and your head spun. Cold flesh pressed against your neck, and more hushed whispers followed. It felt like you had fallen under a spell, and soon, your body was limp against the underbrush.

Something was whispered in your ear before you lost consciousness. Broken common tongue, spoken with a quiet accent.

"How poetic, my sweet, to have me hunt you down. But it took far too long to find you."

#monster x reader #naga #naga x reader #monster x human #naga x human

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kelcemenow · 6 months

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Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1661

Warnings Strong language, but not much and a wee bit of flirting.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The dialling tone rang loudly in your ear for a few seconds as you wedged the office phone between your head and left shoulder. You typed up a couple of notes on the computer when the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it that Mr Kelce? It's Y/N from KC Auto repairs." You said, checking your notes.

A deep voice laughed, "Hey, yeah it's Travis. You can call me Travis."

"Oh, okay Travis. I had a look at your car and there is a problem with your combustion chamber. You see, vehicles need the right amount of air and fuel to mix and then-"

"Woah woah, you lost me at combustion." Travis said, "Just tell me, is the car a goner?"

You giggled, "No, you just need new spark plugs. It's around $250 including labour."

You could hear him sigh down the line, "Oh! That's fine then, do what you need to do."

"Okay, sure thing. I'll be finished with it by 4pm. Are you able to come and collect around then?"

There was a short silence, "I've got a crazy day. I got a couple of things to figure out first, I don't know if I'll be around."

You checked your schedule in the large leather bound diary in front of you, "Well, I'll be in the shop late working on some other cars, so if you drop by anytime before 7, I should still be here."

"Awesome, I'll stop by!"

"Great, catch you later." You placed the phone back onto the receiver and quickly jotted down in your diary details to remind yourself to replace Travis' spark plugs.

The office door opened and the noises of the shop floor grew increased for a second before they were muffled again as the door closed.

"Hey sport." You felt your Dad's hands on your shoulders, "Your headache gone yet?"

"Not really. I already got two cars to finish up, a service and now these new spark plugs for do for that GMC." You pointed your pen in the direction of Travis' car as you began to write out a worksheet.

Your Dad leant down across your shoulder, "I could do the GMC for you?"

"Dad no, Dr Martin said you had to take it easy." You covered the worksheet with your hand.

He swiped your hand away, "Oh come on, I'm fine! It's spark plugs."

You laughed until you noticed that his face had quickly changed when he caught sight of the sheet, "What's wrong?"

His once rosy cheeked complexion was now a ghostly shade of white, "Travis Kelce...you have Travis Kelce's car here?"

"Yeah, why?"

His eyes widened as he looked towards the shop floor, "His car is in my shop? The GMC, that's Travis Kelce's car?"

Your eyebrows lowered in confusion, "Yeah, he dropped it off this morning?"

"Oh man! Y/N, you gotta let me do it! The boys at the fishing lake aren't gonna believe this!"

"What is going on? Who is this guy?" Your voice was beginning to heighten in pitch.

Your Dad lifted his sweatshirt up to reveal a bright red jersey with the number 87 emblazoned on the front, "Travis Kelce is one of the greatest tight ends the Chiefs have ever seen!"

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your diary for the day.

"Which you would know if you ever watched football with me!" He poked you in the arm with his finger.

You tore off the worksheet from the pad, "If I give you this, will you stop shouting and making my headache worse?"

You Dad carefully took the paper from your hands and gently kissed the top of your head before dancing his way out of the office and onto the shop floor, Travis' GMC waiting in the corner of the garage.

______________________________________________________________

Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, you noted that it was 6.25pm. All of your colleagues had already left for the day, leaving you in the shop by yourself. You preferred working alone but your Dad's business had built up a good reputation in the city for being the best repair shop and it was always busy.

When you were younger, you had always preferred fixing your Barbie's houses to make them better as apposed to playing with the dolls themselves. As a teenager you could always be found in the workshop tinkering with tools and learning everything you could from your Dad. You started helping him in his shop during the summer and when you left school, he took you on and gave you a job. You saved every penny you could and when your Dad needed to take a step back from work, you bought into the business, running it alongside him.

You gazed up at the underside of the Ford that was lifted above you, squinting as the night drew in. The crackled radio played in the background and as you hummed along to yourself, the faint sound of footsteps seemed to blend into the music.

"Um...hello?"

You turned your head towards the direction of the deep voice, a silhouette standing in the doorway of the shop.

You squinted further, trying to make out any defining features but to no avail. "Karl, if this is you trying to scare the shit out of me, you gotta try harder than that." You shook your head and dropped your wrench down onto the floor, the sound of the metal hitting the cement loudly echoing in the vast room.

The figure stepped further forwards, his hands held up, "I'm sorry...it's Travis. I'm just here to pick up my car?"

You felt your cheeks flush red, "Travis? I am so sorry, that was really unprofessional of me."

"Hey, it's all good! Don't worry, I probably shouldn't have lingered in the doorway watching you."

Your mouth twisted to the side, "You were watching me?"

His eyes grew bigger, "Not in a creepy way. But now I've said that it wasn't in a creepy way, it sounds like it was in a creepy way."

You wiped your hands on your towel, smiling slightly as you listened to him struggle.

"I was just...impressed. Like I said earlier, I have no clue when it comes to shit like this." He looked around the room at the various tools and parts that were dotted around.

You slowly nodded your head, "Well, thanks...I guess?"

Travis scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet, a clear indication that he was nervous. You took the opportunity to really look at him. He was wearing bright white trainers, dark wash jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket with a white shirt underneath. He was so pristine and you were quite concerned that he wouldn't make it out of the shop without a smudge of oil on him.

"So, my car?"

You looked towards it, digging the keys from one of your many pockets, a couple of bolts coming out with them, "Uh yeah, my Dad took great pride in fixing your car. He's a big fan."

"Oh yeah? Well please, tell your Dad I said thanks!" He smiled before looking around again, "You on your own?"

You sighed, "Yeah, I got a few things to clear up on these babies and then I'll be done."

He unlocked his car and opened the door, pausing for a second before he turned back to you, "Wanna go for a drink?"

Your heart stopped for a beat or two and your chest tightened, a feeling you weren't used to. Men didn't usually ask you out, especially not at work. You didn't exactly make an effort to only be covered in grease all day and everyone knew that your Dad wouldn't be far away, meaning most potential dates kept you very much at an arms length. But here he was, an exception.

"I've still got some work to do." You looked down at your current appearance, "And I might not be down with the latest trends, but I'm pretty sure no one will let me in anywhere looking like this."

Travis smiled coyly, "So, is that a no?"

You winced at his hidden hurt, guessing he wasn't used to women turning him down, "Thanks...but no." Digging into your pocket, you retrieved his invoice, black fingerprints smudged across the paper.

As he reached to take the invoice, his large hand covered yours and you subconsciously held your breath, a fast heat rising to your face.

"No sweat, I might see you around anyway?" He jumped into his car, turning the engine on, "I'll wire you the money for the spark...things."

You nodded in acknowledgement, watching as he pulled away carefully out of the garage and into the night. You unclenched your shoulders and laughed to yourself, turning your attention back to the Ford.

______________________________________________________________

"A package? Who from?" You questioned.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. I didn't open it."

"We never get packages."

You became slightly distracted as Jordan tugged at the bottom hem of his hoodie and pulled it up and over his head, his shirt lifting up slightly to reveal a peek at his toned abs. He threw the garment onto the floor beside him and gazed at you.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, "Uh...I'll go and have a look now."

You furrowed your brows, making your way towards the office and shaking your head on the way, exacerbated at yourself.

On the desk was a small brown package with no indication of who it was from. You ripped open the paper and carefully pulled out the framed photograph. It was a picture of Travis midgame, the ball safely clutched in his gloved hands and speeding towards the end zone. He had signed the corner of the photograph. You turned the frame over to see some slightly messy handwriting on the back.

"For your Dad."

You smiled at his kind gesture.

"Let me know when you want to go for that drink."

______________________________________________________________

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#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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inthememetime · 2 years

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An AU in which a young adult Danny inherits a branch of FentonWorks located on Gotham, he does some work as a Ghost hunter, as Phantom, and as the illusive Ghost King.

Then one day he get an odd request; He, Daniel Fenton, is hired to protect the hero Phantom, himself, from the evil ghost king, also himself, at the request of the Justice League.

🤣 I fucking love you, anon. I would credit you if I could. I'm calling this: Fenton, King of the Scams

Due to length, I'm splitting this bad boi in two.

Danny got into the 'family business' mostly due to a lack of other options. Anywhere that would do blood or physical tests would spot he wasn't completely human pretty quick. But, despite working in FentonWorks, he gained a reputation both from ghosts and humans as an extremely fair arbitrator.

He won't destroy your property- unless absolutely necessary- but he WILL sit down with you and the ghost bothering you and figure it out. 90% of the time, the ghost just can't get to the GZ, or needs to talk to a friend/family member one last time. Sure, you're out $25/hour, but the problems are almost always solved without bloodshed.

He's even worked with Constantine a few times! Nobody knows why, but ghosts really seem to respect him. And the JL respects him as well.

News, however, moves slowly in some parts and quickly in others from one side of the veil to the other. The JL knows, now, the Ghost King is up and around permanently. (True)

They know that, historically, the GK is evil. (True- with Pariah. Most of the others were good. There's a reason the former kings kept their names, and Pariah's was changed to...well...Pariah)

And they know Pariah Dark hates mediums and living humans. (True!)

They do not, however, know that the Ghost King has changed; The King of the Damned, Lord of Screams is an unknown, although he does admit- having his Title reflect his ghostly wail means it's a little bit ominous.

Phantom, meanwhile, is known as a superhero- albeit a dead one. He works with the Bats, the JL, and YJL willingly.

No one has, as of yet, connected patient (albeit snarky), careful Danny Fenton with aggressive, often asshole-ish Phantom. Fewer still- outside of Amity Park- have connected Phantom to the Ghost King of the Damned. Or, more commonly in Amity Park- King Phantom.

Danny found this out on a normal Tuesday evening.

"Phantom!" Batman called, and the ghost stopped to hover nearby.

"Hey tall, dark, and furry! What's shakin'?"

Batman scowled. (Victory!) "Phantom, the Justice League has a long-term contract for you."

"Ooh! What is it?"

Batman handed him a folder. "Let me know tomorrow night- same time and place- if you can take it."

"You got it, bats! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the dead bugs bite!" He cackled as he flew away. "Dead bugs. Ooh that was a good one."

When he returned- not home, he knew there was a tracker (it had become somewhat of a game between him and the batfam. Loser bought BatBurgers)- he looked through it. And promptly laughed until he nearly cried.

The next day, he- as Fenton- went to the JL's Gotham station. "Hi, Leslie, I'd like to speak with- Batman probably isn't in yet. Constantine? Or someone involved on order 7 GH-1800B?"

The receptionist looked through- she couldn't see any details past level 2, but she could see who to direct him to for questions. "You're in luck, Danny! Batman, Constantine, Superman, Green Lantern, and Green Arrow are all on it. Superman's up top, just take the blue elevator and push the top floor button."

"Thanks!" It said something that he was here often enough to be friends with the staff. He'd never get over the beauty of space. Every time, as Fenton or Phantom, it took his breath away. The way the stars wheeled, the way he could hear them thanks to his obsession.

"Still beautiful, isn't it?" A voice asked. He jolted, then grinned apologetically at Superman.

"Sorry. I was supposed to be finding you, but- every time, it gets more beautiful."

He nodded. "I can understand that. How can I help you, Mr. Fenton?"

"Danny, please. I actually had some questions on this order protecting me from the Ghost King?"

"Sure. I know Phantom's not the most discrete hero," fair, but ouch, "but his power set is best able to combat ghosts."

"Oh, I know that- we worked together a lot, back in Illinois. I guess the question is- why from the Ghost King? The current one isn't bad. I'd say he's pretty good, myself."

Superman smiled a little pityingly. "I know you think the best of ghosts- and usually, you're right! But this guy- we've been looking at historical records, and he's a real piece of work."

"Oh, you mean Pariah Dark," he said, now understanding. Easy mistake.

"Exactly. So until we get a few ways to combat him, we'd like to keep our Ghost Expert safe and sound." An alarm blared before he could correct the Man of Steel. "I've got to go- just stay safe, ok, Danny?"

"But Pariah Dark is- aaand you're gone. Ok then."

Maybe it was time to come clean to the JL. Memories of being on a dissection table at a GIW base, turned in by someone he'd trusted, flooded him and he winced. Or he could make easy money protecting himself.

Yeah. That sounded good.

"Did you really have to drop the trackers in a pile of bat droppings at the zoo?"

"You found them! Hey, at least we know it works even if you're-"

"Phantom," he warned.

"In deep-"

"Don't."

"In deep shit."

Batman sighed heavily.

"I'll take it, by the way. I talked to Fenton, we worked together a lot, he's cool with it."

Batman rubbed his temples. "Thank you."

"Sure! Hey, can you even feel yourself through that material? Whoa, that came out wrong. I meant can you feel your head- oh, that's not better."

"Have a good night, Phantom."

"You too! Sorry for the innuendo! It'll probably happen again."

"At least you recognize that." Was that a smile? Double score!

---

"So how's this look?"

"Good, but do we really want to summon the Ghost King?"

"That's the only way we'll find out if this works- it's been months. We need to know if the weapons we've altered with hurt him."

The summoning began. It was a long, tedious affair; generally, if one knew a spirit's title, they could do a summoning in just a few minutes. But something like this? Constantine and Zantana agreed, it was some of their best work. The King wouldn't be able to escape this, and more importantly, would be unable to attack them.

After nearly half an hour, the two magic users plopped on the ground, sweating and exhausted. "Is...something supposed to be happening?" Asked the Flash.

"It didn't work. HOW didn't it work?!"

Superman cleared his throat. "Would it still work if you had the wrong name?"

Slowly, both magic users turned to him. "Explain," the magician hissed, and Constantine pulled out a cigarette.

Superman cleared his throat. "Well. What if Pariah Dark isn't a title, but a name?"

Constantine closed his eyes. "Fuck this. Alright, Supes, what happened?"

"Well- Mr. Fen- ah, Danny came by to ask about the order of protection. He said the Ghost King was an okay guy, and then asked if I 'meant Pariah Dark'. So would that affect it?"

Constantine rose, left the room, and screamed. After a moment, he returned. "Somebody call Fenton, please. We need a nap."

"And a beer!"

"Two beers. Each."

"Oh, hey, Wonder Woman. How are you doing? Did your curator friend find another haunted artifact?"

"Well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Pretty good, thanks!"

She smiled. "Good. She does have a few leads, but nothing solid yet. I was wondering if you could tell me about a few ghosts?"

He nodded. "Sure, sure. Want something to drink?"

"Whatever you're having is fine," she replied easily, and sat on his creaky old couch.

He sat across from her and passed over a mug of hot cocoa. "So, who can I tell you about?"

"Let's start with Pariah Dark."

He made a curious noise. "You know, Supes asked me about him a few days ago, but ran off before I could say anything. Are you looking for his powers, history, or?"

"Is Pariah Dark a name or a title?" She asked.

"Bit of both. He became king a few thousand years ago, but was just the worst. When he was stopped the first time, ghosts stopped using his real name, and replaced anything with his name on it with Pariah. Dark was his real last name, though."

She frowned. "The first time? He is no longer the King?"

"About...eh, a thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries, the Ancients got together and sealed him to stop him from destroying the world. Nobody could win head-on, though, so he was king in name. Then, a few years back, he was released, and decided to do the whole destroy the world thing again," he said.

"But the current King didn't want the world to be destroyed, so he, Phantom, and other ghosts held him at bay long enough for him to challenge and win in single combat, then become king. Like I told Superman, though, he's a good guy."

"And do you know this new King's name?"

Oh. Shit. "We're allies, and it's incredibly unwise to share information like that about him," although technically, they already knew it, "but I can tell you that he's known as the King of the Damned, and he's very human friendly, minus a few crazies."

There. They'd be able to summon him with an incomplete title, but bindings wouldn't work without at least part of his name and his full title. It was why beings like Clockwork went by 'Master of Time', or Clockwork instead of their true name.

Wonder Woman's gaze sharpened- she'd caught onto the half truth. Luckily for him, her emergency communicator beeped before she could get out her lasso. Hooo boy. Maybe he needed to lay low in the GZ for a bit.

"Phantom, where is Fenton? The person you were asked to guard?" Batman asked.

The other side of the communicator was silent. "Phantom, respond." Silence. Batman turned to Constantine. "Any luck?"

He shook his head. "Turns out he didn't give us a true name. I keep getting images of his female counterpart in Illinois or a weird thermos, most of the time," he said. He sighed deeply. "The rest of the time, there's a ghost way scarier than Phantom in a crown."

"It's my fault," the Amazonian princess said quietly. "I kept pressing about Pariah Dark and the new King. Fenton warned me sharing information about the current Ghost King was unwise- I should've known even speaking about him could get Fenton in trouble. And if Phantom swore to you to protect Fenton, well."

"Hey, you didn't know the guy had a werewolf with portal powers that would just kidnap him," the Flash offered. "Who could? It's nuts."

"I think we only have one choice," Superman said warily, "and I don't like it." Superman had an understandable nervousness of ghosts- they were one of the only things that could reliably harm him without kryptonite.

"Neither do I. But l'll see if Zatanna is free."

In the secretary's desk, who'd had to leave early a week ago and was still in the hospital, was a note from one Daniel J. Fenton. It said, in general, that he was sorry he had to leave abruptly, but he would be perfectly safe with Phantom as an honored guest at the Ghost King's court for the next month.

The interim receptionist incorrectly noted this as junk mail, or perhaps a bit of fanfiction, and let it alone.

There was a painful tug in Danny's gut, and he groaned. "My liege?" Fright Knight asked.

"My apologies, I'm being summoned to the mortal realm," he said, then cocked his head to the side. "As King, not Phantom. Hmm. I'll see you all as soon as I can."

"We understand," said Queen Dora, and Danny took his true form.

Phantom looked like a young man, albeit with white hair, big eyes- basically, as friendly as he could while still being taken seriously. His true form was a little more...eldritch. He didn't actually have feet like this, just a long, black tail. His entire body, really, was that of a massive black serpent made out of static- if serpents had four arms with sharp claws, if their coils randomply dissipated into green and black smoke before remaking, and-

Ok. He looked...nothing like a serpent. Danny did, however, have to admit, the black crown, burning in ectoplasmic fire that matched the curling green horns and solid green eyes did make a pretty cool accessory for summonings.

Danny liked summonings- sometimes. More accurately, he liked fucking with people. And this would be a perfect- wait, was that Constantine?

At first, John thought it another dud. Nothing appeared in the circle. "Is it just me, or is the temp dropping in here?" The Flash asked.

Batman grunted- as good a yes as they'd get.

"King of the Damned, you have been summoned to this place. Show yourself!"

Constantine, a moment later, wished he hadn't spoken. It was impossible to keep track of the monster before them- its' body kept shifting and changing. One moment, static. The next, a clear view of the milky way. The next, stars he'd never seen before and that no mortal was meant to.

"Y̷o̵u̶'̸l̸l̴ ̴f̴i̴n̸d̶ ̵i̶t̴ ̸e̴a̵s̴i̸e̷r̷ ̵t̸o̶ ̷f̷o̶c̴u̷s̷ ̶o̵n̴ ̸m̶y̵ ̸f̴a̸c̶e̶,̵" said the King, kindly enough. Superman covered his ears and winced.

He- it? Danny'd always referred to it as a he. He was right. Somehow, the massive, green glowing maw filled with giant teeth and solid, unblinking eyes below fiery white hair and massive horns was easier to focus on. He hurriedly looked away from the horns, which were changing shape and size as quick as the rest of him.

"Right. We're looking for a missing persons- two, actually," he said. "Do you know where Danny Fenton and the spirit known as Phantom are?"

Did he know- Danny couldn't help the laugh. "O̷f̴ ̴c̷o̶u̴r̷s̶e̵!̷ ̷T̴h̴e̸y̷ ̴l̵e̵f̸t̴ ̴a̶ ̴n̷o̷t̷e̶ ̸f̷o̵r̴ ̸y̵o̸u̸,̸ ̶r̶e̴m̷e̶m̵b̵e̸r̴?̶"

Batman spoke. "We received no notes."

The King frowned. "L̵e̶s̵l̷i̴e̸ ̷d̵i̸d̸n̶'̶t̶ ̷g̵e̶t̶ ̵i̸t̷ ̶t̷o̴ ̷y̴o̵u̴?̷ ̶F̶e̶n̶t̴o̴n̶ ̸s̵a̷i̶d̵ ̶h̸e̸ ̸l̴e̶f̷t̷ ̷i̸t̴ ̵w̴i̴t̵h̵ ̵a̶ ̸m̵o̷r̸t̴a̴l̵ ̷b̸y̵ ̶t̴h̸a̶t̷ ̵n̶a̵m̷e̴.̶" He tacked on the 'mortal' at the last moment. Man, it was hard to be yourself while playing like you weren't yourself, while acting like you knew yourself a little.

Flash jumped up, and less than a second later, cleared his throat sheepishly. "So, uh. Honored guests at your court?"

He nodded.

"Can we talk to them? One or both?"

#inthememetime #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp x dc #dpxdc #ghost king danny #john constantine #danny fenton #ask answered #fenton King of Scams #long post

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goosetheluce · 9 months

Text

Teach Me (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "gwen stacy x fem reader where gwen is trying to teach reader how to play the drums 😽😽"

warnings: suggestive tension, flirting, pet names, kissing

a/n: this is random, but i imagined gwen playing "spin" by taking back sunday, if you'd like a better picture of the fic

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You wrapped your fingers around the doorframe, peering over it from the hallway. You had just finished up a meeting stemming from your extracurricular. You marveled the ghostly stairwells; the school was basically empty, especially where Gwen was. You and Gwen had agreed to meet each other at the music room, where she usually practiced every day after school. As you strolled by the room, you saw her scrolling on her phone with her headphones beginning to blare music. She looked warm with the evening sun washed over her brown-and-blonde undercut.

She clearly had no idea you were just outside the room, still nodding along to her playlist.

Huh, you thought. She really doesn't see me. You stepped out from behind the wall and instead leaned against the doorframe. You crossed one of your ankles over the other and watched silently as Gwen immersed herself.

She had been tapping her drumsticks along to whatever song she was listening to against the drumset, but as the seconds ticked by, her rhythm incorporated the rest of her limbs and head.

Warming up, maybe?

With a quick tap on her phone, Gwen's headphones suddenly tuned into the speakers in the room. She slid her headphones off her ears, letting them fall to her shoulders. She twirled her right drumstick and positioned her shoe atop the bass, still studying the set beneath her.

A grin spread across her face, and her first movements began as the next song started. Initially, she went timidly along with the song, still seeming a bit reserved. To a stranger, she would have seemed at peace, but you knew Gwen. Her shoulders were slightly tensed, and her face remained relatively straight.

Just a few seconds later, though, the chorus hit, and Gwen began nearly abusing the set. Her shoulders loosened completely as her passion bubbled to the surface, crashing against the drums perfectly with the song. She began to scream along, her face twisting and throwing her body along with the current of the percussion.

Her head hung closer to the drums, hair swaying and bouncing as she nodded with such aggression it made your head hurt. Her muscles pushed against her milky skin as she kept drumming; veins, which were usually veiled, appeared. You realized her eyes were squeezed close while pounding away, and you wondered in awe how long she had been learning.

It all lasted but a minute before she finally looked in your direction and choked on the lyrics pouring from her mouth. She kicked on the wrong beat (the first and last time you'd ever hear such a mistake) and swiftly paused the music.

"Jesus, Y/N, I thought Halloween was two months away. Care to give me another heart attack?"

You let out a breathy laugh, striding to Gwen. "Wasn't my intention. You were fucking great, though." And hot, you thought separately. Sweat began dripping down Gwen's arms and face from the cease of action.

"Thanks! Been playing for a few years now," she explained casually. Your brow furrowed.

"A few years? I figured you'd been playing your whole life."

"Oh, hell no. I live in an apartment. I could only start learning once I got to high school, where there was an actual set."

You nodded, walking behind Gwen to play with her hair. Your fingers sifted through her coarse strands. She brought her hand up to gently wrap around your forearm absentmindedly.

"You're just a genius at drums, then," you remarked after a few moments. Gwen scoffed.

"I wouldn't say that...anyone can learn."

Your hands fell away from her hair to rest on your hips. "Oh, really?" you taunted. "Teach me, then." Gwen turned her head to where you could see her side profile. Her lips pulled into a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am," she teased. She rose from her seat and guided your shoulders to sit you down.

She leaned down to pick up her drumsticks, placing them in your open palms and shutting your fingers around them.

"There are 5 actual drums in most standard kits. There are 3 toms," she instructed, pointing to each respective piece. "The bass, and then the snare. There are also ride cymbals, hi-hats, and crash cymbals." You tried to absorb as much information as possible, clutching the sticks.

She snaked behind you, settling her hands on your shoulders once more. You could feel her intense eyes trained on the back of your neck.

"Hit the snare."

You reached toward the snare, timidly tapping it. It barely made a sound.

"I said hit it."

More force snapped against the drum this time. Gwen, now hovering beside your ear, smiled.

"Better. Now, kick the bass twice in a row."

You obeyed, beginning to quiver. Being around Gwen made you nervous. Butterflies erupted in your abdomen as her breath passed over your neck.

"Yeah, keep that going, babe. Immediately after the second kick, hit the snare and crash at the same time."

You fumbled the timing over and over again, hesitating with each do-over. Part of it had to do with the honeyed words Gwen rasped into your ear. You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes.

Christ, I need her to kiss me.

You turned your head to face her, scanning her. Embarrassment scorched your cheeks. She was amused by this.

Giving in to your bottled frustration, you erupted from your seat and nearly got to Gwen's lips.

Nearly.

Gwen denied your attempt by firmly cupping your face in her hands. Her corners of her plump lips twitched with a small smirk. She leaned forward.

"Finish the sequence and you'll get what you want," she murmured, a tease edging her voice.

You groaned and plopped back on the seat, swiveling around to face the kit.

"Just focus, hon. You got it."

Impress her.

You took a deep breath, held it for a second, and started the progression as you released the air from your lungs. Your muscles tightened. You just wanted to get this right.

Right for her.

You messed it up again a few times, sweat pricking atop your skin with concentration. You felt the frustration settling in the cavity of your chest again. You felt Gwen's fingertips brush against your cheek from the back.

"Just let go," she suggested softly.

You nodded. "Okay."

As Gwen's body pressed up against your back, you closed your eyes and relaxed your muscles. You envisioned the routine in your head, eyes still closed, and went for it.

Getting out of your own head worked, and the moment you realized it did, you kept the rhythm going. After spending fifteen minutes trying to perfect the instructions from Gwen, the relief was sweet.

You stumbled again and stopped, but it didn't matter. You succeeded.

To your surprise, Gwen's arms wrapped around your waist and she pulled you out of your chair. She whirled you around and pulled your body tightly against her willowy build. She wound her fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, pushing you towards her lips.

The kiss was heated, passionate. It lit you ablaze as her other hand slid down your body and rested firmly on your hips. When she pulled your lips apart, her eyes were glazed and heavy. Her cheeks were flushed with fire. Giggling at your dazed expression, she kissed your neck.

"Anyone can learn...with rewards."

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

#lucy writes #lucy's anons #gwen stacy x reader #gwen x reader #spider gwen #gwen spiderverse #gwen stacy #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #spiderwoman #spider gwen x fem!reader #ghost spider x fem!reader #itsv #atsv #itsv x reader #atsv x reader

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lcvernat · 1 year

Text

Case of the Sniffles | Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: could you write a fic with natasha x fem!reader where the all avengers were sent on like a really important mission but natasha’s missing and no one can find her so reader goes looking for her to find her sick asf in her bedroom? can u make it really fluffy, please? thank u!! 😁

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of the flu/medicine, strong language

A/N: thank you for requesting anon! i am so sorry this took me so long to get to but i hope you enjoy this anyway <3 sick fics are so cute and fluffy to write i rlly enjoy writing them so thank you again for this request

"Where the hell is Romanoff?"

Tony finally put words to what the rest of the team had been thinking for the past few minutes. The team were geared up and ready to infiltrate a highly secured HYDRA base, one of the most important missions to date. Months of gathering intel had led up to finding this base - they had hidden it extremely well, and time was of the essence right now. Except, a very obvious anomaly was the missing presence of your girlfriend.

This was extremely unusual, because one thing Natasha Romanoff never missed out on was a mission. Especially one of this importance. It was very out of character for her, and you tried your hardest not to worry. Tried not to let your mind drift to dark, unrealistic places. She was fine, she had to be fine, you had literally seen her last night and she was fine. She just wasn't present.

"I'll go look for her," you volunteer, getting a murmur of agreement from the rest of the team as you set off on your hunt through the Compound.

"Nat?" You call out, "Did you forget that we have a mission today? Leaving in... what was meant to be three minutes ago, actually."

No answer.

You sigh. She wasn't in the kitchen or in the living room, so the most logical place to check next would be her own bedroom. She was never one to sleep in, but it wouldn't hurt to check. She had to be somewhere, after all.

Knocking gently on the door to her bedroom, you called out, "Sweetheart, you in here?"

Still no answer, so you gently pushed open the door and walked in. It was pitch black, and the curtains were drawn. You could just about make out a figure on the bed, deciding to switch the light on and squinting your eyes at the brightness. With the room now full of light, you could tell that the figure on the bed was definitely Natasha, if the strands of fiery red hair peeking out of her blanket cocoon were anything to go by.

"Nat?" You whisper, gently poking her and sending a silent prayer up that she isn't dead. She groaned in response, shuffling around in her cocoon as she subconsciously pulled the blanket further over her head. At least she was alive. Still very uncharacteristically Natasha, though. "You okay? Forget about the mission?"

Natasha shoved the blankets off of herself then, shooting up in the bed with wide eyes, "Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I missed my al-" She was cut off by a sneeze, and your suspicion rose. Now that you could take a better look at her without her being covered by blankets, she didn't look well. At all. Her face had taken on a ghostly pallor, and her eyes looked visibly tired despite her just being asleep for hours longer than she'd normally be. You narrow your eyes, gently placing the back of your hand on her forehead and you nearly wince at the heat radiating off of it.

"God, Tasha, you're burning up. You have a fever."

She shook her head, "No. 'M fine. Promise. I just slept in."

"You are not fine. Lie back down. You're clearly sick."

As if to answer your question, a sneezing fit shook her entire body. Still, Natasha was relentlessly stubborn, even if she had a fever that felt like she'd spent the entire night in a sauna, "I am fine," she insisted, sniffling. She tried to push herself off of the bed, only to be greeted by your firm hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down.

"No. You are not going anywhere. You are going to get some rest, and I'll be your doctor. I'll strap you down to this bed if I need to."

She glared at you, but she must feel really shit because it didn't take that much for her to finally agree, even if it was reluctantly. She lay back down, and you kissed her forehead gently, brushing her hair out of her face. "Okay, I'm going to tell the team that they can manage the mission without me, because I have a girlfriend who needs to be taken care of, and I'll grab a few things for you. You stay here, and keep the blankets off you, you don't want to overheat with your fever."

"Yes, ma'am," Natasha mock-saluted and you laughed, kissing her forehead once more before leaving to tell the team.

Honestly, Peter should be locked up for telling Tony what 'whipped' and 'simp' meant, because the amount of times he had called you those two words when you explained why you were staying behind was enough to last a lifetime. As if he wouldn't do the same for Pepper. He was such a hypocrite.

After taking a detour to change out of your suit and into something more comfortable, you returned to Natasha's room carrying a box of tissues, some Tylenol, a thermometer, a thin blanket, a bottle of water and a pint of ice cream. The redhead sat up in bed as you entered, and you flashed her a smile.

"Okay," you dumped the items at the bottom of her bed, "first, here's a blanket for you. It's thin enough so it won't cause you to overheat but will help with the chills that can come with a fever," you threw the blanket towards Natasha and she caught it with a grateful smile, draping it over herself.

"I've brought ice cream for later, and I can make you soup if you want some. We can have a movie day too. Now open wide," you smirked, picking up the thermometer and walking towards her, popping it into her mouth. She reached out to take ahold of your free hand as you both waited, and you hummed contentedly. It seemed sick Natasha was a clingy Natasha. You liked that bit.

The thermometer beeped and you took it out of her mouth, inhaling sharply as you read the number, "102 degrees? Yeah, you're definitely not going anywhere for the next few days."

Natasha groaned, opening her mouth to more than likely complain, but she quickly closed it when you answered her with a warning glare. "No arguing."

You handed her the bottle of water and some Tylenol before putting the thermometer away.

"You want some soup?"

She took the pills before shaking her head, "Not hungry. In the mood for some cuddles, though."

"That, I can do," you smiled. Putting the pint of ice cream on the bedside table for later, you jumped onto the bed, snuggling into Natasha. "You feeling okay?"

She nodded, "Apart from feeling like general shit, I'm a lot better now that you're here."

"That was extremely sappy of you, Romanoff."

She smiled before breaking into a cough, "Seriously, though. I've never had someone take care of me before, even if it's as simple as taking care of me when I have the flu, so it... it means a lot. Thank you," she sniffed.

You passed Natasha a tissue, trying your hardest not to cry at her reaction to such a simple gesture. Taking care of someone when they're sick should be expected, it shouldn't be surprising for Natasha, and you hated that it was. "I love you, of course I'll take care of you when you're sick. Even when you're not sick, anything you need and I'm here, okay?"

She nodded, putting an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. You didn't even care that you could potentially catch her germs, all you wanted was to be in her arms and make her feel better.

"Wanna have a movie marathon for the entire day?" You asked, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Absolutely."

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718 @lovelyy-moonlight

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x you #black widow fanfiction

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sin-sidejob · 1 year

Note

hello ghostJR anon here!!, If you want to of course, can you EHEM- got me all nervous now uhhh- ghost JR window sex with mc pressed against one of the windows and him just loving the vieww 👀👀

Ghost!JR Scheimpough x GN AFAB Reader

A Haunting Display

warnings: smut, NSFW, minors DNI, p-in-v smut, ghost sex, monsterfucking I guess?? Specter sex?? Heh. Anyways, porn. AFAB Reader who wears a dress and has "tits", non-descript. Use of pet names and terms of endearment such as baby, pretty little thing, peach, and bunny. Here, he's a mid-century man and speaks + fucks like it

contents: smut, against a window smut, it’s just smut and you fuck a smarmy ghost. Can I tell you it’s smut again?? here’s the link to my Halloween fic with ghost JR Scheimpough + here’s the link to the art that started it all from Skoshibuns on Instagram + tag list: @damnitkyla + 💤 anon honorable mentions lol — can be read independently of the work this is based on or together, whatever gets your rocks off length: 2.7k note: anon, I got VERY carried away with the concept — many thanks to you, little sinner ;)

Having a ghostly roommate didn’t turn out so bad, especially now that you have company and companionship and a partner that knows he’s lucky to have you. You’re quite fortunate that JR’s got a tendency to show you just how appreciative and grateful he is for your presence.

Including now, as he interrupted your Sunday cleaning when you tried to wipe down the windows to coming up from behind and helping you make a mess of them.

“What’re you up to here?”

You turn back from where you stand before the upstairs hallway window, spray bottle of glass cleaner in one hand and an old rag in the other.

“Just cleaning! Saw from outside when I got back from work yesterday that the window looked a bit smudged,” smiling up at him, brows raised, face innocent, “just figured I could clean it up before it started to bother me.”

JR hums, noncommittal, and you go back to cleaning the window and humming along to the song stuck in your head idly and moving along as you wipe the glass, hearing the warping noise as you go along.

As you try and clean the bottom half of the floor to ceiling length window, you kneel and send the skirt of your dress pooling around your thighs as you wipe the glass clean, revealing more clarity. By the time you stand after setting down the cleaner and rag, you feel the air shift and know JR’s hovering.

“Hello again.”

About to turn, you feel his cold hands wrap around your waist and settle low on your belly, head near yours. “Hi there.”

You purse your lips and try to look at him from the angle, brows furrowed but amused nonetheless. “What’re you up to? You’re a bit clingy today.”

“What, is there something wrong with holding onto you?” JR sends back, speaking into the skin of your neck and sending a chill up your spine with the icy touch. “Why don’t you take a break so you can warm me up?”

“C’mon JR,” You whine, pouting yourself, “I need to clean, I just got this window done and I should do the others.” His eyes flicker with something you don't necessarily recognize and before you know it, he’s got you against the window, encircled by the chill of the glass and of him.

“Look too good to pass up,” he mutters low and hollow in your ear, “shame that you’ll have to clean this window again.” JR grins brightly into the column of your throat, more felt than seen, while his hands drift to your dress and undo the little button on the side and the tied bow, letting it fall and pool at your ankles and does the same to your panties.

He's stripped you bare before the window, the risk that met the proposed reward fleeting as he smooths a hand down your now bare belly to splay across your mons and lower stomach, rubbing at the flushed skin there and feeling you twitch at the chill he always brings, even to the most heated parts of yourself.

You hiss as your nipples pebble against the cool of the glass, chills raise across your body, standing your hair on edge, biting your lip as he soothes you in soft praise, nearly warmed by it as he cups your sex while you stand bare.

He's clothed this time, not like it matters because if your neighbors walk down the street or stare a bit too hard at the third floor of the house, they'll just get a view of you alone with your tits out and squished against the window pane.

"C'mon baby, let me have a chance to show you off'a little, you know how quiet it can be in this house," JR murmurs, nosing at your jaw and breathing shakily once you mewl as his fingers finally curl in the heat of your cunt, the warmth felt in his spine as yours does, feeding off the fire you produce, licking the flames like he does the sweat off your neck. "There's my pretty thing, cooing all sweet for me, taking my fingers so well. So fuckin' pretty," JR comments, kissing your cheek as the other presses to the glass, watching the puffs of your panting breath fogging the glass.

"JR, p-please," you whine, lifting your leg against the glass a bit for him to get the message, his hand lowering from your waist to curl on the underside of your knee, raising it against the window to expose your cunt to the cool of the air. He whistles when he catches the reflection, spotting the shine of your slick from the smears between your thighs and the way it glosses the puffy lips of your pussy, drenched and gleaming for him all on display.

"Looking mighty fine there peach, wish I had a camera," JR croons as he smooths your hair back to nestle his head on your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your torso to squeeze at your tit while the other slides from your walls with a lewd, resounding squelch that makes you moan aloud, brokenly, allowing JR to watch your throat bob in the reflection.

"Maybe a — ah, fuuck — a-another time, baby," you mutter, rocking your hips back and whining once you feel his erection against your ass, wanting him deep like yesterday, like last year. It's promising, the idea of having him documented and real as he pumps your cunt with abandon, and it sends your belly clenching taut with the concept. JR seems to like your reaction, because he makes a noise of approval, guttural and from deep in his chest, sounding it out in a groan of your name as he presses against your back as he cages you in.

“I’ll hold you to it,”

He punctuates his words with grinds against your backside, a hand cupping the cleft of your ass cheek to widen between your legs so he can slide himself in the pooling slick of your sex. “God, sound so good — ya’hear that?”

And how could you not? As JR slicks himself in your arousal, you hear it, lewd and raunchy and utterly debauched as you gush for him, thighs sticky and letting him fluidly shift back and forth, drawing in and out until the cockhead catches at your clit. You nod, unable to not hear how wet you are for him in the quiet of the house.

“Pretty pussy’s practically cryin’ for me baby, and you didn’t want to take a break,” he chides, pointed teeth precariously draping over vital veins, grazing with mirth rather than malice, “want me to let you go back to cleaning?”

Shaking your head, you sigh breathily and give a weak “Nuh uh” in disagreement, leaning your weight back onto him with his chest supporting your lax spine, easing the burden of standing as he toys with you like a doll.

“Gonna’ have to speak up, peach,” JR shoots back, tone of voice making it sound like a suggestion, but even when cock-drunk, you know better, “wanna’ have you earn it, right pretty baby?”

“Yessir,” you slur, tongue heavy as he drags his cock between your lips and covers the sound of your moan with a hand he brings to your lips from your cunt, saturated in your desire as you swallow it down eagerly, hollowing your cheeks as you peer back at him through the glass at his eyes, nearly translucent beyond the glint in them. It always reminds you that he’s not truly a good man, never was one.

It’s a good thing you don’t care. And besides, he more than makes up for it in how he lays you down.

“Wanna’ be good f’you, take everything you give me.”

“That’s right, such a good little bunny. Now breathe for me, I’ve got you,” he gives as a brief warning, shifting your ass and thigh up so he can lean his cock back to sink it deep into your cunt, slowly bottoming out as he hears your cunt suck him in, taking every inch of him.

You shudder when you feel him knock at your cervix, fat cockhead rubbing deep enough for you to feel it when you inhale, noting the base of him that never fits anyhow as he rocks back and forth slowly, balls patting at your ass as he speeds up. With one hand pressed in support to the window surface, you lean the other back around his neck to nestle in his hair and tug approvingly when his strokes hit just right.

“Fuck, right there, give it to me please baby,” you beg outright, uncaring about anything other than cumming around his cock and getting stuffed full, certainly forgetting about the window and the whole voyeur thing JR has going on. However, he hadn’t and fulfills your wishes by snapping his hips faster as requested with a dual purpose, especially since he’s got the attention of that pesky neighbor of yours, the one who can’t seem to get the hint and continues to flirt with you.

By now, seeing you getting fucked against the glass and literally drooling against it by him, using a little flair to make sure he seems as real as possible and nearly human, and how he fucks the breath and sanity from you, JR assumes that your neighbor will leave you the fuck alone.

He’d also admit he’s gotten quite a bit closer to cumming from having someone see you as fucked-out as you are when it's all because of him.

The hand that tugs taut at his hair gets him to focus more of his attention on you instead of grinning through the glass, even if he is pleased as punch. “About to cum?”

You nod, eyes watery in the weight of overwhelmed tears, lip puffy and slick in your spit from you gnawing on it as you gasp and cry for him as he splits you open on his cock, the sound of him colliding in smacks of his hips against your ass have your lids fluttering even as you try and shift your hips back.

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself on me, nearly there with’ya,” JR groans, snaking a hand from your waist down to your clit again, collecting some slick where it pools at your lips, raising it back up to roll his fingertips over your bundle of nerves in smooth strokes and start spelling out his name, the full one he’s only whispered to you once you’ve fallen asleep most nights.

Even though you don’t know what he’s spelling, or even what he’s doing beyond piping you well and sending your belly taut as you feel your orgasm building, clenching around him and hearing him stifle a nearly pained sounding groan against the skin of your shoulder. The nosy neighbor is no longer his concern. Rather, getting you to cum around him as soon as possible becomes the highest goal and his one priority.

His other hand guides your faltering hips back and forth as he slows his pace to go deeper, kissing at your cervix with his cockhead every time he bottoms out, loving the wet splurching noise your cunt makes every time he slides in and out thoroughly.

With a few more swipes of your clit, you’re nearly there, mewling incoherent words to him as he fucks you dumb against the window, any thoughts emerging as pants against now-heated glass that fog the surface. “Atta’ babe, m’almost there, just gotta’ give me a second, okay?”

You coo in response, pleased and a bit drowsy with your eyes half-lidded, tits squished between yourself and the window panes. JR’s grip on your fleshy hip tightens, squeezing the dough of your side in his hand as he rubs at your clit. You’re glad you’ve got him standing you up, your knees had given out long ago.

“Wanna’ cum, c’mon JR, baby please, fuck, fuck — need it.”

“Need, oh f-fuck, need wha’ peach?” he falters as your cunt clenches taut, feeling himself nearly cum then and there, getting back to his pace as he kisses at your neck.

“Need your cum, need it s’bad,” whining, you tell him, shifting your hips back with his guidance as you jut your lip out in a pout, tugging on his hair and eliciting another groan from him.

The admission gets him going, pinching at your clit as he releases deep into your cunt with a cry of your name, deeply uttered into the salt of your skin. The cool of him within your cunt sends you gushing not a whole moment later, neck craned back as you cry aloud open-mouthed, arching against him as he holds onto you, fucking the both of you through your climaxes in short, stuttery thrusts.

He weakens after a while, slowing to a stop where he locks his knees back to support you, feeling himself flicker from solid to semi-transparent. JR’s eyes are closed shut, head knelt to your shoulder as if in prayer, meanwhile you’ve got your head leaned atop his, meagerly blinking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the ceiling.

You falter, setting your weight onto your own feet before catching yourself and leaning back, letting JR’s hand shift to wrap his arm around your waist, easing you to remain still as his other hand guides his now-soft cock out from you, making him hiss once the air greets him as you whine, clenching around nothing due to his absence.

“Let’s get you cleaned up then into bed for a nap, peach,” JR suggests, exhaustion lacing his tone as he tucks himself back into his pants before reaching for your clothes on the floor, leaving the cleaning products behind for him to take care of later. It’s the least he can do anyhow.

You hum, turning around and leaning against his side as he walks you to your bedroom, his shoes clacking against the hardwood as your bare feet softly tread.

JR eases you into the en suite bathroom so he can wipe you down between your thighs, letting you sit at the edge of the tub as he does so, smiling a tad as he realizes that he finally addresses you here in a nearly similar condition.

“Doing so well for me, almost done,” he praises, kissing at the swells of your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb smooths over the indent of the glass against your face. He guides you back to bed after, tossing the rag in the dirty clothes bin on the way out as he snags a shirt and a pair of baggy shorts for you, helping you into them and then under the covers.

JR watches as you nestle into bed, a dopey and freshly-fucked smile upon your face meeting his own, unable to not match the joy you radiate. A beat passes and he goes to leave and let you sleep before you break the silence.

“So, Hank saw?”

He blinks, tilting his head and feigning confusion, hiding the bob of his throat.. “Hank?”

“The neighbor that keeps bothering me that you want to kill, the one who took a good look at my tits while you were plowing me like a workman’s horse,” you offer as you smooth the covers over your waist, curling up against the pillows and staring up at him from where he sits at the edge of the bed.

He hesitates before muttering out a quiet “maybe” that makes you snicker, nose upturning as you nearly giggle, wriggling deeper into the bed and its comfort.

“Eh, fuck him. I don’t think he’ll be messing with me anymore.” murmuring, you shut your eyes as you continue to giggle, dark and devilish as you grin against the pillows, peeking at him between little fits of laughter.

He heads out, fading more and more as he heads to the door, nearly glassy in how the sharpest features are his eyes, glinting beneath his metal-edged frames. JR falters though, lingering by the door as you whisper his name, getting his head to turn just as you smile soft, adoringly, and it nearly breaks his heart how perfect you look in this moment.

“Thank you JR.”

He smiles and it wrinkles the lines in his face, making him look like a happier man.

“Anytime peach.”

#jr scheimpough #inside job #personal inside job #my inside job #my thots #jr #jr scheimpough x reader #jr schiempough x gn reader #jr scheimpough x afab reader #ghost!jr #ghost!jr schieimpough #ghost!jr scheimpough x reader #ghost sex #spectre sex #spectrophilia

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luwritesomething · 1 year

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mickey altieri x reader where she starts getting suspicious of him but ignores it cause he’s her boyfriend (and she’s in denial) until one day she accidentally catches him still in costume without him knowing. Reader then starts avoiding him and is super upset and doesn’t know what to do until one day he shows up and asks her why she’s been avoiding him. She tells Mickey that she saw him in the Ghostface costume and knows that he is the killer and he tries to explain himself and tries to calm her down. She’s very upset about it and is scared that he might hurt her but he reassures her that he won’t. She loves him so she eventually decides to stay with him anyway and promises that she won’t leave him or tell anyone abt him being the killer… I hope this made sense lol I feel like I put a lot I’m just in desperate need of mickey fics 😭

Mickey Altieri x Reader: Please.

Warnings: swearing, manipulation (mickey manipulates the reader to stay by his side), lack of morals from reader's side, mentions of blood and murder.

Word count: 2160

Author's note: i'm living for these requests! with this little piece, i was able to answer two of them, that's why i added the other one. i love mickey, but i actually struggled with writing this one because my moral alarm was going off everytime i tried to think of a reason for reader to stay with mickey after finding out... that's why i went down the manipulation path! hope you like it, and remember, no matter how 'unoriginal' or 'boring' you think your reqs may be, i love getting them and will most probably write them <3

also in here mickey is a little dumb dumb because he goes into his dorm with the ghostface costume on, something that i don't think mickey would actually do... but anyways! no more spoilers :)

graphic by me! also, i'm leaving my mickey altieri playlist, if anyone wants to take a look at it, feel free!

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, mickey altieri, chad martin-meeks, mindy martin-meeks, tara carpenter, anika kayoko, laura crane

The pounding of your heart was the only thing you could feel as you shut your eyes close and try not to make a damn sound. You knew you hadn’t been meant to witness what you had since the moment your mind had been able to connect the dots together, just some minutes ago, and now you were just trying not to discover yourself.

The sounds of someone moving around Mickey’s room had woken you up from your heavy sleep, the coldness from your boyfriend not being by your side anymore easing you up to reality. You had barely opened your eyes, a quick flutter that registered the small lamp in Mickey’s desk shedding its light in the figure next to it. Your heart had stopped at the sight of the figure who, even though had its back turned to you, you could recognize everywhere after last week’s news.

Someone was on a murder spree on campus, dressed with the same costume the figure there was wearing, so it was natural for your first thought to be that you were the next victim. You even saw the knife in the figure’s hand, blade stained with blood that meant you weren’t about to be the only dead of the night. But, before you could even think about moving to try and save your life, the figure had taken the ghostly mask off and you had recognized Mickey, your dear and loved and lovely boyfriend Mickey, in less than a second. That was when you had stopped breathing, your eyes closing as you tried to wash the sight of the bloody knife off your mind, and your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You waited in silence, trying to control the thoughts that raced through your mind, and not making a single move that could expose you to Mickey. Luckily enough, he got out of the room with a towel on his shoulder, to go and use the communitary shower, and that allowed you to breathe deep before trying to control the panic trying to take over your body.

Was Mickey really the killer? When you opened your eyes again, the costume was nowhere to be seen but it was not like you had the imagination to make that up. And if you were true to yourself, Mickey had been shady as fuck. Oh, God, were you really suspecting your own boyfriend of being a killer? The evidence had been right there, in front of your eyes — that wasn’t suspecting anymore.

When some steps could be heard outside the door, you forced yourself to close your eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the sick feeling messing with your stomach. You kept yourself grounded, hidden between the pillow and the sheets, and your body stilled terribly when Micky got himself on bed, like nothing had happened. He smelled sweet, the scent of his shampoo surrounding you.

Quietly, you held your breath as his arms surrounded you, lovingly, and you waited for something — anything — to happen.

You waited for the whole night, but nothing other than Mickey swiftly falling asleep did.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days passed by, and your mind couldn’t help but bring back the image of Mickey on the costume with the bloody knife whenever you were around him. And that was terrible, because you spent an incredible amount of time with Mickey, which quickly brought you to avoid him.

At first it was rather small and subtle — made up group projects, very real homework, studying. Then, the need to be on your own, which triggered his suspicions of something else going on. You were inevitably jumpy around him during those times you ran out of excuses, laughing less than usual and sometimes even zoning out on him. The thought of you losing your feelings for him was nearly driving him insane.

Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about you during his film history course, and not in a good way. From college, his murder spree and now you acting up, he had received a ridiculous amount of stress — enough to make him space out in every single class of his. In the middle of the lesson he had already made up his mind about having to talk things out with you and figure out what he had said or done to upset you that much.

When the class ended he was the first one to get out, without even saying goodbye to Randy, and heading towards the classroom he knew you’d be in. You both had learned each other’s schedules after spending so much time together, and that hour was perfect, since his class ended a little bit before yours and both were the last classes of the day.

Oblivious to his presence outside the classroom, you calmly gathered your things once the class came to an end, agreeing a date and hour with the partner you had been assigned to for your next project. Attending your classes and focusing on your schoolwork kept your mind off things — things being Mickey — but as soon as you crossed the classroom doors and saw him there, it all came back.

Mickey smiled at you, even if you didn’t smile back, and walked towards you with that easy going manner of doing things he had. You waited for him with your fingers drumming against your side, which he caught on — weren’t you happy to see him? Even if he had verbalized that question, he wouldn’t have gotten an answer.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.” You said, forcing a smile that, surprisingly, hadn’t felt so forced. Maybe you had been slipping lately, but your objective was not to be killed, and you didn’t know how far he was planning on going. “I have to go to the library, do you want to hang after—?”

“I just wanna talk to you for a minute.” Mickey interrupted you, grabbing the hand you had use to lightly gesture around.

Your heart started pounding so loudly you were afraid he able to hear it. He wasn't, but you didn’t notice his fingers pressing on the pulse point on your grip, checking that, indeed, you were pretty nervous. “It can’t wait?”

“It’ll be just a min.” Mickey promised, insisting oh so charmingly. He squeezed your hand once. “Please?”

How were you supposed to say no to him when he asked so nicely, with his head cocked and his eyes shining? You nodded softly and sighed under your breath, letting him take you wherever he wanted as you tried not to think too much about it.

He led you outside and to the side of the building, a not so hidden place that equally allowed you to be seen by the students walking through campus but not be heard unless you raised your voices. You found yourself terribly afraid of noticing all these things, but Mickey letting your hand go and placing himself across from you got your attention too fast.

“What’s gotten into you?” He finally asked, head cocked.

It took you a second to catch it. “What?”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Mickey pursed his lips slightly, then shook his head. He truly looked worried. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I’m not avoiding—”

“Oh, please.” Mickey waved his hand to make you stop, diminishing your ridiculous attempt to fool him. “Don’t lie to me like that. Just… tell me what I did wrong so I can undo it and—”

You started shaking your head, nervous. “It’s not— It’s not like that.”

The look in Mickey’s eyes was so helpless that you felt how your heart started to crumble. “Please?”

You looked away from him, feeling the fast way your heart was pumping blood. If you had been seated, you would have started to bounce your leg up and down — Mickey couldn’t be more confused at your nervous-wreck state.

“Are you the murderer?” You asked in a whisper, almost not daring to look up to see his reaction.

But his face didn’t tell you anything. Mickey was completely emotionless as he stared back into your eyes, his brain processing very slowly those four words that had just left your mouth. How could you know? He was sure he had been really careful, trying not to let his mood after a kill or planning affect any scenario between you. Mickey knew you were smart, but how?

That was not the right direction to go, though, he realized as you waited for him to give you an answer. You had been acting all weird around him because of being scared of him, and that feeling didn’t make him feel entirely good.

“Listen…” He started, coming a step closer to you, but you instantly backed away.

“Don’t.” You hissed rather abruptly, still not believing he hadn’t denied it completely and put an end to your delusion. You were right. “If you get closer I’ll scream.”

“Sweetheart!” Mickey exclaimed, surprised, his eyebrows shooting up as the pet name he reserved for your softest moments slipping past his lips in what was an improvised plan of manipulation. The seriousness in his voice and face was the only thing you could pay attention to, though. “I wouldn’t hurt you. You know that, right?”

You hesitated and he almost hissed right then. Falling for you hadn’t been on his plan, but now that same plan was being threatened just because you had found — and he couldn’t have that happen. Mickey wouldn’t kill you, no, but his partner easily could if you did something stupid, and he also did not want you to go to the police saying things about him and the murders. He needed to think of a solution, and fast.

“Then why would you hurt others?” You said hastily, then your head looking around you to really make sure no one was listening. “You’ve killed people, Mickey. I knew some of them—”

“You have to trust me.” He interrupted you instantly. There was only one way out, as he saw it: manipulation. Mickey needed you by his side. His acting skills were enough for you to stop looking so nervous, watching closely how his eyes fell to the floor in fake defeat — but you didn’t know he was acting. You didn’t even know he was a star. “I can’t tell you but you have to trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

His hand reached out to grab yours, but you dodged it, rather defensive. “And why would I trust you?”

“Because I’m not a liar.” Mickey frowned slightly. If you didn’t let him convince you of staying by his side, he would have to… The way he called out your name was rather heartbreaking, this time managing to catch your hand and pressing it against his chest. “Please. I wouldn’t hurt you, and you know that.”

He was making you doubt, he realized, as your eyes fell to your hand on his chest. Mickey seemed desperate from your eyes — begging you to stay. But it wasn’t right… “It just… this changes so many things.”

Mickey shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I still love you, and I always will.” His promise sounded genuine, and it was. There was no denying that, Mickey truly loved you. If he didn’t, you would already be another number on his back, after those little four words you said to him.

But there he was, playing tricks on your mind without you noticing. “I’d trade my life for yours.”

“Mickey…”

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He insisted, more strongly now. His eyes continuously searched for yours, knowing you wouldn’t be able to deny him if you were looking right into his eyes. “Please, please, you have to trust me. Don’t you love me anymore?”

The question shocked you, and if you had been in your right mind, you would have realized the length of the manipulation. But in that moment it only made you gasp, surprised that he would actually question it with such a real expression.

You were quick. “Of course I do!”

“Then…” A sigh interrupted Mickey, who looked down, letting your hand go. He didn’t need that much dramatism, but now that he had actually gotten used to the part, why stop? “Please.”

There wasn’t much thinking from your side. Mickey had asked you to please trust him, and that was what you were going to do. He had also promised not to hurt you, and you knew him too well — or so you thought. There needed to be more behind all this, and you had to be by his side.

“I trust you.” You muttered after some seconds, and he looked up instantly. A soft smile blossomed in his lips as you nodded. “I won’t tell, I promise.”

Mickey leaned closer to you, with the swiftest movement, a hand cupping your cheek. “I love you.” He whispered softly.

“I love you too.” You replied against his lips.

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lilithlinen · 2 months

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Wounds Of The Past - John Wick x You

Requested by: Anon Plot: 7 years ago John Wick left you because of the danger of his work. As years goes by, he regret it after, because one night on doing his mission he saw you saying 'yes' to the proposal of your new partner.

FLASHBACK

7 Years ago, you and John were standing at the edge of Central Park, the autumn leaves dancing around you both. He held your hand tightly, his heart heavy with apprehension. "I can't keep putting you in danger," he told you, trying to hide the pain behind his eyes.

"Listen, John, I understand what you're going through, and I respect your decision. But I won't let you just walk away and disappear from my life," you pleaded, gripping his hands tighter. "We've been together for so long, and I love you, even if this dangerous lifestyle is part of who you are." You leaned in closer, looking deeply into his eyes, a desperate hope shining through.

John couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt at the expression of pure love reflected in your eyes. "This isn't easy for me, either" he whispered, pulling you gently against him. "But your safety, our future... it always comes first. This life isn't fair to you." He took a deep breath, trying to find the strength within himself to say the words that would change their lives forever. "It's final and we are not going to negotiate this. Just promise me something, okay?"

Tears start welling up in your eyes and you look away, "I can't believe you're doing this to me...to us."

"I'm so sorry," John murmured, feeling the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "This isn't what I wanted for us, but I need to protect you. Promise me, no matter where I am, no matter how far apart we'll be, you'll stay safe. Stay strong." His voice cracked slightly, and he couldn't hold back the emotions anymore. He looked at you, wiping the stray tears from your face with trembling fingers. "Promise me that, please."

You took a deep breath, wiping your own tears and meeting his gaze. "I promise, John. But I also want you to promise me something," You paused. "I want you to promise me that you'll always remember that you were the one who abandoned me." Your voice cracked at the last word.

A bitter taste filled John's mouth as he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'll never forget," he managed, trying to smile despite the pain piercing his heart. "And I'll make sure to come back to you as soon as I can. Stay safe, okay? Take care of yourself." Your embrace tightened, and you both stood there, holding onto each other, silently wishing for a different reality.

With a final squeeze of your hand, he turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the night, leaving you standing alone in Central Park

Present day, seven years later:

Years went by, and the emptiness John felt grew deeper as countless missions blurred into one another. Then one fateful evening, while engrossed in yet another assignment, he caught sight of you, his ex-partner in an unexpected moment. Blinking back at the sudden flood of memories, he watched as you said 'yes' to another man's proposal. The blow reverberated inside him; his heart, once again, torn. But he won't let this happen, yes, he left you and yes, he abandoned you BUT you're HIS after all.

In that instant moment, resolve stiffened his spine. No man would replace him in your life.

With a sharp intake of breath, John broke his cover, stepping out into the moonlit street, his eyes fixed on your silhouette. Time seemed to freeze as everyone around stopped mid-step, recognizing him as the ghostly figure clad in black. "Stop right there!" he called out, the command echoing through the night air. The commotion attracted attention. "Back off, all of you. This is personal." A deadly glare warned anyone against crossing him. With determination etched on his face, he marched towards you.

Eyes widening, your 'fiancé' lets out a nervous laugh, attempting to shield you. "Mister, we don't want trouble here—"

John shot him a chilling stare, interrupting him in mid-sentence. "She doesn't belong to you," his voice cracked with barely concealed emotion, "and I'm taking her back." Ignoring the armed guards closing in, he extended a hand towards you, your eyes mirroring the mixture of fear and confusion. "Come with me," his tone was hard but gentle, loaded with the pain of lost time.

You swallowed the gulp in your throat and just stared at him. "The audacity of yours! Why would- Why would I go with you?!"

John met your fiery glare calmly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. "Because you need to listen to me." He responded firmly, his voice was low, resonating with the old familiarity that used to warm your heart. "And besides, I'm afraid you don't have much choice in this. Not without creating quite the scene here." His gaze flickered to the encroaching figures, emphasizing their dire situation. "Let's not test these fine people's patience longer than necessary, shall we?"

"You can't do this!" your 'fiancé' protested, anger creeping into his voice. "She's engaged to me now!"

John leveled him a gaze colder than ice. "You haven't officially wed yet, have you?" he asked rhetorically, flashing a killer's grin. The tension between them was palpable, threatening to ignite chaos. "Well, then it seems you're out of time." A swift motion later, he offered you his hand once more, a silent plea for your cooperation. Leaving the confused groom-to-be and his entourage reeling, John guided you away, his grip firm but reassuring, like the one you shared on those long-lost walks in Central Park.

As you both traversed the cleared path, whispers followed you into the night, a testament to the spectacle unfolding. Yet, for John and you, there was only the echo of haunting echoes and promises unfulfilled.

"Where do you think we're going, John?" You asked curiously while looking at the direction you're moving.

He glanced at you, acknowledging your question with a brief nod. "Somewhere far from here," he replied cryptically. "To set things right, starting with explaining myself." His features set determinedly ahead. "Your safety will always come first, even if it means defying the rules set by my current life..." Pausing for effect, he turned to face you fully. "No matter what obstacles arise, I intend to make things right between us, to understand why you chose this man and give you the chance to explain yourself." His eyes held steely resolution. "We'll clear the air; for this is what we both deserve – answers and decisions."

You scoff and stop walking. "Excuse me?! Explain myself?!!" You went off at him, pulling away from his grip.

Taken aback by your vehemence, John paused midstride, brows furrowing. "I didn't mean it that way," he interjected quickly, holding up both hands in submission. "You have every right to be angry; believe me, I know." A begrudging acceptance graced his face. "But please hear me out. If anything, let's walk together without distractions so we can talk this through." His chest rose and fell steadily as he pleaded with quiet determination. "Don't push me away just yet. Let's explore the truth together - for our sake."

You huffed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Always so certain," you muttered with a mix of admiration and frustration. "Very well," you conceded finally, letting him take your hand again. "But remember, this isn't going to be easy."

He nodded, acknowledging your caution. You started walking at an unhurried pace down dimly lit streets. The silence between you both was heavy yet somehow comforting; years hadn't diminished your connection.

"So," You began hesitantly after some moments passed in quietude, breaking the spell of your past, "Why did you leave me?" John slowed slightly, allowing room for your query before responding thoughtfully.

"After the first few times, it became harder to see you," he admitted, staring at the ground with the weight of his decision bearing down on him. His grip tightened on yours. "I never wanted to leave you but...the job was tearing us apart. My past caught up with me too quickly and when I came home to you...that day remains etched in my mind." Swallowing hard, John found strength in your silent encouragement. "I couldn't risk losing you or putting anyone else you care about in harm's way."

You both walked further into the night till you reached your destination; an abandoned warehouse near docks filled with flickering lightbulbs hanging from ceilings high above you. Inside lay two old wooden chairs leaning against concrete walls painted graffiti blue. In its solitude, it was perfect for your conversation. "Sit down," John suggested gently, gesturing toward one such chair. "Now tell me about this man."

Your cheeks flushed red as you sat down, crossing your legs neatly. "It wasn't love at first sight or anything grandiose," you confessed softly. "We met at work and had similar interests...we grew close over time." Your voice wavered momentarily before finding resolve again.

John listened attentively before asking questions. "Did you ever feel loved?" He inquired, concern underlying each word spoken aloud.

"What do you mean?" You looked at him quizzically.

"When I left seven years ago," John explained seriously, "I hoped another person could fill the void left behind by me. But I needed to know whether he truly loved YOU - not just loved having someone in his life...and if you loved him too."

You sighed deeply before meeting his gaze. "He's a good man John..." You said quietly, "I don't think he loves me in the way that an idealized romantic partner should. We share commonalities and laughed together for sure, but I don't see a future with him where we grow old together". Pain sparkled in your eyes reflecting past memories you once shared with John.

"He proposed out of obligation towards family expectations more than anything else," You continued firmly. "Maybe that's why tonight shocked me so much hearing it publicly...I realized there's still more inside my heart left reserved for someone..." You trailed off.

John nodded slowly, absorbing these revelations. He could see remnants of bitterness lingering but also hope gleaming beneath it all - a hint at renewed possibilities. Gently taking your hand, he traced lines over your knuckles.

"Then perhaps we both made mistakes - me leaving too soon and you rushing into something artificial..." He whispered tenderly. "Let's make amends today though - start afresh if possible."

You look at him in hesitation. "What if you left me again?"

His grip on your hand tightened reassuringly. "If that happens," he replied firmly yet tenderly, "know that it won't be my choice." Your eyes locked in an intense exchange of promises unspoken.

He sighed heavily before speaking again. "Whatever path lies ahead - happiness or pain- we'll walk side by side from now on." His lips curved into a faint smile before continuing with resoluteness lacing every word. "This time...I promise not to abandon you again." His gaze softened into one filled with undeniable longing.

You stared into those familiar brown depths searching for sincerity and found it mirrored back at yourself.

In the dim glow of the warehouse, the air between you and John thickened with unsaid words. As if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned closer to him until your faces were mere inches apart. With gentle intensity, John brushed his fingers along your jawline while gazing intently into your eyes - connecting on levels beyond physical attraction and past painful memories.

With a slight nod signaling understanding and agreement from both sides, he cupped your face gently before closing the distance between you both. Your lips met softly yet passionately in a kiss filled with love and regret.

John whispered fervently against your parted lips: "I'm sorry for everything...but most importantly...I missed you."

You murmured back softly: "And I love you..." Your embrace deepened further despite doubts nipping at your thoughts, you felt a glimmer of hope stirring within - maybe you could find solace in each other's arms once more?

#request #requsted #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #keanuverse #john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction

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cursedmystic · 7 months

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🐾 + What did you think of the haunted house that Matsuba set up?

There's a chorus of voices that answer. Each ghost who had helped speaks up at once --

"FUN! Fun, so fun! Want to play hide and seek again?" Banette's voice is high and fast, like a zipper being unfurled, and she bursts into witchy cackles alongside Mismagius as she dances in her spot.

"Want to find more shinies. Sweets are good, but not crunchy enough." Sableye seems to be lamenting losing the coins, even if he took them unfairly from Gimmighoul.

Gengar and Jellicent nod in unison at their part at the end. Jellicent's voice is an old sea captain's rumble, calling to mind a man stroking his mustache.

"It was a very enjoyable experience. Our trainer has had a rough year."

Gengar's voice is old too, but the wizened sound of an elder rather than the edged voice of a captain.

"He needs to lighten up some! Once he gets some help."

ask the pokemon!

#HEH #a ghostly figure / anon.

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giggly-squiggily · 11 months

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Helloooooooooo! Can I request lee!Itadori and ler!Gojo? Perhaps poor poor yuuuji is having a bad day and Gojo just has to cheer him up cuz he is his dear dear student??

Thank youuuuu^^ (Your fics are AWESOME btw)

Oo, I love this!!! I haven't written enough JJK here on my blog! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D (Thank you so much! I appreciate it!)

It was a strange day when the team’s sunshine was down and out.

Yuji Itadori- a walking ball of energetic sunshine- was uncharacteristically quiet. He didn’t talk much, only answering questions with simple replies, and his few rare smiles were ghostly and heavy.

“Did something happen?” Gojo asked as the day went on, growing increasingly worried for his student. He figured he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and would bounce back after breakfast, but he only seemed to wilt further as the day went on.

“I don’t know- I tried everything I could think of to get him happy again, but nothing worked.” Nobara shook her head in defeat, folding her arms in thought. “Maybe he got bad news?”

“Not likely- it would have to go through me before it goes to him.” Gojo hummed. “Got his heart broken?”

“Hasn’t been on any recent dates. Anniversary of his grandfather’s death?”

“Nope- that was a few months ago.” Gojo tilted his head, tapping his chin. “Did he get into a fight with Megumi?”

“Who’d I fight?” Said boy asked as he walked up. After a quick briefing, he was just as confused. “Maybe he’s just having a bad day. We all get those once and awhile.”

“Yeah but…it’s weird, seeing him so down.” Nobara tightened her arms around herself, brows furrowing. “If I knew what was wrong, I could fix it.”

“I don’t think there’s a straw doll technique that could.” Megumi shrugged, earning a light glare from the girl. Gojo on the other hand looked suddenly thoughtful.

“Maybe not a curse technique, but…” He grinned. “I think I know what to do.”

~~~

Yuji was laying in his bed when Gojo appeared, halfheartedly reading a volume of Chainsaw Man. His headphones were in, soft music blocking out the world around him. To anyone else, it’d be a clear sign he wanted to be left alone.

For Gojo however, it was an invitation to strike.

Putting his skills to work, he placed himself on Yuji’s bed, hovering over the younger sorcerer with an easy grin. Then he leaned in so his nose was hovering over the manga, waiting for Yuji to notice him.

The younger boy let out a low sigh as he went to turn the page, eyes flicking upward at Gojo. Silence. Then-

“AH!” Yuji squawked, manga tumbling out of hand and headphones flying off his ears as he scooted back on the bed, staring at his teacher. “G-Gojo sensei! What- how- when-”

“Who, where, why?” Gojo finished, closing the discarded manga and tossing it on the nearby table. “That’s what I’d like to know. First of all: How are you?”

“I uh…” Yuji’s shock faded some, that sad look from earlier returning. “I’m fine. Just…”

“Moping in your room, reading manga and pretending the world doesn’t exist?” Gojo asked, pushing Yuji down by his shoulder. “Relatable, but we can’t have that now, can we?”

“G-Gojo-sensei? What are you-” Yuji began, lips flattening and eyes widening when a finger wiggled into his armpit. He squeezed his arm tightly against his torso, trying to block out the invasive finger. “N-No! No do-don’t!”

“Oh? Why not?” Gojo teased, motivated by the wobbly smile on Yuji’s lips. He added a second finger, a third, and before long he had pushed his entire hand into Yuji’s armpit, clawing gently and earning even more struggles from the other. “Is someone ticklish?”

“Yo-You alreahahdy know thahahhat!” Yuji tried to argue, giggles pushing past his lips as he squirmed. This was NOT how he planned on spending the rest of his “Mope hours”! “Goohohohohjo, wahahahhait!”

“No way- you’re still sad! I won’t stop until you’re happy again!” Gojo shot his other hand into Yuji’s pit, earning an arch and a squeal. With that, he was laughing, twisting about on the bed as he tried getting away from Gojo’s tickly fingers. “Come on, let me see you smiling!”

“Nohoohohohoho! I wahahhahant to mohohohohohope!” He cried, cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut with mirth. “Lehehehhehet me behehehehehehehhee!”

Gojo’s response was to drop a hand to his belly, drilling into the center and making Yuji shriek. He went to shove his hand away, but that only opened his armpits up further for more tickling. ‘Coohohohohohohome ohohohohohon, this ihihihiihihisn’t fahhahahahhahair!”

“All is fair in a tickle war!” Gojo chimed, stretching his fingers back further so he could prod the back of Yuji’s ribs, earning a snort. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“AHEHAHHAHAHA! FIIHIHIHINE, FIIHHIIHIHNE!”

“Promise?”

“YEEHEHHEHEHS!”

“Reeaaallly promise?’

“GOHOHOOHOHJO!”

“....You sure?”

“I PROHOOHOMIHIHIHISE NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Yuji cried, gasping for air when the tickling came to an end. “Ehehehehe..hehehehhe…yohohohoohu’re ehehhehevil!”

“Mmhmm! The evilest sensei you’ve ever had!” Gojo skittered his fingers over Yuji’s belly before climbing off him, flopping at the end of the bed with a grin. “So, what’s going on, sunshine?”

“Ehehe!” Yuji spasmed, giggling. With a wave, he sat up , crossing his legs as he caught his breath. “Heh…I’m fine, really.” At Gojo’s raised brow, Yuji pushed on. “No, for real. I just…I had a rough night.”

“Nightmare?” Gojo asked, watching Yuji nod. “Wanna talk about it?”

“....No, not really.” Yuji shook his head, looking up with a small but genuine smile. “I’m feeling better- I don’t want to go back to that right now.”

“Fair enough.” Gojo nodded, reaching out and patting Yuji’s leg. “If you ever need to talk though- you know where I am.”

“Thanks, Gojo.” Yuji’s smile grew, as did Gojo’s.

“Anytime. Hey- let’s go get food with the gang. My treat.” Gojo stood, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I heard there’s this new place that opened up; they sell gyoza. Hungry?”

Almost on cue, Yuji’s stomach growled, making them laugh. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Thanks for reading!

#JJK #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #The way I had to tone this one down cause it was getting too heavy at the end #I'm on the flow while writing this so things tend to get extra angsty those days #this isn't angsty though #I reeled it in #just straight up floof #and some cheer up tickles! :D

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yandereorg · 1 year

Note

Hoi, it’s the Damien anon from a couple days ago 🥹💖

I’ve been having brain rot ever since and I was wondering how you think he’d react to someone who works with pre-school kids? What about inadvertent rejection (because I’m dumb and can’t read a room and would mess things up)

I have little brain but it was working hard after seeing your response.

I did a love letter, headcannons and a lil drabble bc why not<3 I hope you enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!!

to my beloved angel,

You warm my heart, watching you all days with the little ones fuel my daydreams, both innocent ones like the two of us raising a baby and the two of us making one, sorry im getting caught up in them, I'm writing to remind you that I love you, and that I'm exemely proud of the progress your making within the school, I often brag about you to the others and although the two of us aren't together yet, there is something that ties us together, we are bond, I know it, no one haunts me the same way you do. and the strangest thing? I adore your ghostly image which haunts my mind. Your image. Everything. I feel as though you're my guardian angel, given me a deeper purpose, helped me realise that humanity is worth all the effect my father puts into his job.

With love DW

Damian is loyal to a fault. He loves his family more than almost anything else, the else being you and the future family you have with him. And your job fuels these pretty daydreams. He does watch you at work and he just wants to skip over all this yearning, he wants past all this self made heartbreak, he hasn't made a move yet and he's already feeling the ache of rejection.

Damian didn't see the point of romance until some suggests that you would like it and then it becomes important to him, he goes through your favourite films trying to figure out something. And he does and it's perfect, he even ran it by Kori who applauded his efforts and gave him some reassurance along with Dick whose advice often came with taunts, leaving his skin with an irritating warmth, also mentioned that this will be perfect. He'd leave you notes, then pick you up, he even designed the bouquets of yellow roses, Tim suggested them as they represented undying love and Damian knew you loved flower language and loved overthinking, the florist was terrified with a frightening figure that loomed over his shoulder, ready to scream at him for the smallest mistake and because of his overwhelming aura he didn't correct Damian when he said yellow roses ment undying love, though he did suggest asters but that had been quickly rejected, he'd bring you to a restaurant which was booked out, he wouldn't allow a stranger to ruin this, not when Tim already had it covered.

Damian woke up shining, gleaming and Tim couldn't help but giggle. He didn't know you but he knew Damian and Damian would flex the fact about flowers and you would hopefully correct him, leading to Damian's overwhelming embarrassment. But it went worse than this.

You saw the yellow roses, took it as a friendzone and went home. Damian was going to kill him. How could he trust drake? Dick was protecting him, thinking it was a little bit funny and if it didn't send Damian into a murderous rage. He'd try again but Tim drake would not go unscathed.

by the end of the week he was in your bed, spending blissful mornings with you, and yellow roses would become a long running joke within the relationship.

𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

Every time you walked home from work you wished you hadn't. You wished that you weren’t too embarrassed to ask for help, but here you were once again, cold, scared and still 45 minutes away from your apartment.

You had already received some unwanted attention, spiking your paranoia. you changed your route, in hopes that if the man had continued trailing behind you they wouldn’t be lead back to your apartment, your heart began to pang as you realised that you didn’t know where in Gotham you were and footsteps also commenced, heavy and fast approaching. You didn’t look back, just started walking faster, and faster, until it was a sprint. if you had only looked back and would’ve realised that the man who was fast approaching wasn’t a danger to you yet, or ever really. You are someone that would never have to fear Damian and his more violent tendencies. But he wasn’t Damian currently, rather Robin. the chase didn’t last too long. Damian had you pinned against an alley wall within seconds, you were so helpless, he quite liked the feeling of you squirming.

After a lecture about walking home in the dark, you found yourself in the batmobile being driven home by a stranger who seems so familiar, and he also seems to know you, Damian could never keep secrets from you and in his mind the two of you were already a thing, he loved you and you probably loved him too, you showed similar signs, whenever he spoke to you as a civilian you dodged his eyes, focusing on his nose, though he hoped you were staring at his lips, he often thought about yours but unlike Tim he could usually hide his creepier habits, though that thought had escaped his mind in this moment. Driving to your apartment, saying your name, asking about work, the warmth that you brought along with you was so comfortable, kind, warm, things he yearned for, your sweet perfume flooded the car. Damian sometimes thinks that he shouldn't be allowed alone with you, you were such a sweet treat, a magnificent indulgence.

He loved speaking to you, talking about the kids and the funny things they did or said, Damian couldn't wait for these conversations to be about your child, you’d be so cute, of course he’d hide the three of you from the world for a while. He loved the thought of you and him, tucked away in a cottage, the world could rust away and you’d be safe in his arms. and he adored how you spoke about your hobbies, you’d always show him pictures of your plants, showing him what they mean, what their preferred conditions were. He always knew what to say to keep you talking, gaining access to the cameras at your work helped, perfect leading questions.

Everyone had noticed his yearning. it lead to taunts and unwanted advice causing a small tantrum within the Wayne household, especially when drake hoped on, Damian was a fews seconds away from jumping on him, but eventually Damian had come up with a plan. Everyone had helped, Dick suggested the venue, Bruce suggested that he brought a gift, Jason helped pick one out, and Tim suggested flowers, yellow roses.

A knock rang out through the silent loneliness of your apartment. It was Damian, he was dressed smart like he was going on a date, the suit fitted him well. You wished it was you who was the object of his affection but the yellow roses felt like a stab, he had just plunged you deep into the friendzone. Though it wasn't an outright rejection it still stung, so you thanked him, took the flowers and closed the door before he could notice the tears that started to swell in your eyes.

Damian was confused, hurt, mostly confused though. When he got home, he was bombarded with questions, why he was home so soon, then Tim let out a giggled and explained his little joke.

Damian was enraged, Tim of course flew the nest, leaving Dick to calm him down, telling him he might need to be a bit more obvious.

He caught you walking home, again, this time he was Damian, and he was dressed a lot more causally, asking you on a coffee date, apologising for the roses and suggesting that the red asters showcased his emotions better. it was just like the all the other times the two of you hang out but this time Damian made clear his emotions , anxiety rife within him, and you let him know with a kiss. The love you provided him with was alien to Damian, but he adored the change, even bruce’s love felt conditional at times but you were glowing diamond, he often thought you could be the child of the sun with the warmth and beauty you gave the world. The moment your lips met his, he felt himself melt into you, the two of you were soulmates, he knew it.

The two of you moved quickly, soon acting like a married couple. Damian never left you unless he had to, but he had also made sure that you’d have all your meals met, even if he wasn’t there to eat with you, he even packed you lunches, saying sweet messages about how you were stopping the next generation of criminals before they could become them. He wanted to show that he could be your provider, look after you, so you knew that he was all you needed.

#yandere damian x you #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere robin x reader #yandere robin #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne

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ragingwaters · 6 months

Text

🌊INTRO POST🌊

Hey everyone! Nessa here, Hulbury gym leader and part-time fashion model!

Heard some of my favorite blokes were on here, so I figured I’d join in on the fun as well as keep everyone updated with my day-to-day life.

Water-type pokemon are my passion, and I’m gonna show the world how turbulent they can be!

Now, let’s get the basics outta the way, shall we?

Name: Nessa (obv)

Age: 23

Height: 5’8” (6’0” in heels~)

Pronouns: She/Her (Cisgender)

Sexuality: Lesbian (and happily taken💙)

Pokemon Team:

♀Drednaw (GMAX) - Kaimana

♂Golisopod - Hama

♂Quagsire - Kano

♂Pelipper - Fjord

♀Barraskewda - Hali

♀Seaking - Calypso

♂Toxapek - Hoku

(//OOC: PLEASE READ BELOW BEFORE INTERACTING)

DNI: PRO-SHIPPERS, TERFS RAD/LIBFEMS, TRANSPHOBES, RACISTS, ETC. NO NSFW POSTS/RPS ALLOWED (If you do nsfw, keep it off my blog thank you.)

Hey, mun Nova, here 30+ years old and I use he/they pronouns!

If you have any questions don't be afraid to contact me, my DMs are always open! Also this is an rp blog that takes place in the pokemon universe, so pls keep in mind I will be RPing as such! Also I will be using A LOT of personal HCs, so if you don't like them err... sorry?

>Friendly reminder that if you try to engage in a plot with me without at least discussing it with me first, then I will likely not respond. Even if you do approach me with a plot in mind, there is no guarantee I will agree.

I AM A-OKAY INTERACTING WITH OCS. This involves: Fallers, Eebydeebies, sentient pokemon, hybrids, etc. If you're not sure just ask! I promise I do not bite <3

If you are looking to interact with my muse, and your muse is tied to some potentially triggering topics, I would prefer if you discussed potential interactions with me first. This is for my own comfort, so please keep this in mind.

This is a side blog, so I'll usually send asks on anon and sign off with “-@RagingWaters”

I follow back from my main @galactic-mermaid

IF YOU READ THIS ENTIRE THING, PLS SEND (DM or Ask) THE PHRASE "Sink or Swim" TO ME AS CONFIRMATION.

Check out my other Pokemon RP blogs!:

@piers-official (Piers/Marnie RP blog)

@ghostly-groundskeeper (Pokemon OC)

@darkpunkrocker (Sidney E4 RP Blog)

@thetravelingymleader (Pokemon OC)

@krazy-for-klara (Klara RP blog)

@a-gastly-trio (Pokemon Gijinka OCs) ((HIATUS))

#pinned post #blog intro #intro post #pokemon #pkmn irl #nessa pokemon #gym leader nessa #rotomblr #pokeblogging #unreality #pkmn rp

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blu3cl0v3rs · 6 months

Note

end of the year fic asks! did you do any prompts/challenges this year? if so, do you have a favorite of the bunch?

Hello anon, thanks for the ask!

I actually don't think I published this one, but I wrote this one for a discord server game.

I titled it,

Morro, of the Wind

Wind whistled in his ears as he fell.

Once, he feared that noise. Even a simple breeze felt like a knife’s tip brushed across his skin, just light enough to not to cut.

Now, he plummeted below the flying ship and away from the voices of his teammates, eyes shut as he relished the roaring of the wind in his ears.

When the blonde was about to ram into the ground, his leathery wings stretched out. He swooped just above a field. Lloyd twisted and dragged his hands and the fluffy tip of his tail through the grass.

The boy got bored of playing with the blades, and rapidly flapped upwards. He rocketed through the clouds. The Dragoni left his wings spread and rode the wind currents high above the ground. Any thoughts were overrun by the rushed wind.

Above the clouds, there was only the open blue sky and the fluffy tops of clouds. No responsibility, no rules, no people to save. Just the sky, the clouds, himself, and a purplish blob following him.

…wait, what?

He halted, and the clouds below him spun out of the way of his flapping wings that held him in place. Emerald eyes scanned the horizon for that strange purple thing he saw.

He looked, and looked, and looked. It’s like the thing vanished, Lloyd thought to himself.

“...hello?” Lloyd rotated his scaly ears, and listened for any tell-tale noise of movement.

All he could hear was the wind.

He hesitantly returned to the air current, but this time he was fully alert; eyes and ears darted in search for anything not cloud and sky.

This time he would catch it.

As he waited patiently, boredom seeped in. He could also feel his not often used muscles aching. He should really fly more.

Lloyd shook his head. He was losing focus! He glanced around quickly, and hoped he found the purple mystery.

He saw it. Lloyd launched himself after it, and the thing ran. Flew? Whatever it was doing, it was fast.

It’s like the wind’s boosting it, Lloyd thought. No, it’s like it is the wind.

Flashes of Nya merging with the ocean came to mind. He grimaced, and ignored the images in favor of speeding up.

The purplish thing ducked underneath the clouds. So that’s how it’s been hiding, Lloyd realized as he followed.

The sight of rocky cliffs that dropped to the ocean emerged from the clouds. The purple blob swirled down to the jagged edge of a cliff. The blonde swooped after it, and the two landed on the rock ledge.

It seemed to pulse, as if it was trying to decide its shape. Like Nya did after she merged, his mind supplied more unpleasant memories that Lloyd ignored. It formed into a familiar person, one more popular in his nightmares; Morro.

“Hello,” Morro didn’t exactly speak; it was more like an echo, or the breeze mimicking words. “You are familiar to me. I know you.”

The words sounded like Morro, but far away and lacked the ghostly distortion.

“Lloooo… Lloyd?” the wind figure tested, as if he was saying it for the first time.

“Yeah,” he replied on instinct.

“I wronged you… I hurt you.”

“Yeah."

The wind picked up, and Morro began to fade. “I…”

Whatever words he said next were stolen by the swirling wind, and Morro disappeared.

Lloyd sat there, his wings sagged in confusion. He stayed there until the Destiny's Bounty arrived and his siblings yelled at him for flying off.

#answering asks #anon ask #ninjago #lego ninjago #morro #morro ninjago #ninjago morro #morro master of wind #morro wu #lloyd ninjago #dragon lloyd #merged morro au

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sitp-recs · 1 year

Note

Hi Liv, i wondered if you had a reclist for fics with awesome OCs (human or animal, like Saras Girl)? Thanks for all your hard work!

Hi anon! Of course, here are some recs with great OCs:

In The Company Of Serpents by @corvuscrowned (E, 25k)

There’s something wrong with the serpents at the Greengrass Ophidiarium. Luckily, a certain Parselmouth just might be able to help.

Heart Like Neon by @lqtraintracks (E, 41k)

Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Not minds, not Legilimens, but their whole self, and he can give them what they don’t even know they want. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself. Harry can’t help but want to break into him, to figure him out. And Draco, thinking he’ll fuck Potter on a lark, has no idea what he’s in for.

Of Roses and Dragonfire by xErised (E, 53k)

Years after That Kiss, Potter (and his new pet snake) appears again, this time as Hogwarts's Quidditch and Muggle Games instructor (what are Muggle Games anyway? Is this why Potter is swimming in the Great Lake wearing such a tiny pair of pants?), disrupting Draco's peaceful life as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It's bad enough dealing with one exuberant Gryffindor (Charlie Weasley as Care of Magical Creatures professor) on the faculty, and what's all the gossip about Potter courting Draco?

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 77k)

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

A Case of You by @epitomereally (E, 97k)

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down. Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #original characters

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