#even if he needed to be decontaminated | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 3

WC: 1861 Masterpost CW: mentions of blood, past experimentation, and torture

Duke tugged the sleeves of the hoodie he had thrown on as he rolled out of bed down over his hands. The Cave was freezing. Usually the temperature was nice. Dressing up in layers of body armor and fighting crime made a person hot and the cool air of the Cave was a relief. When pulled out of bed by an all-hands meeting it was another story and so Duke tucked himself further in the hoodie.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t even his hoodie. This family (and those let into the inner circle) were almost all clothing thieves. Duke had even caught Wally West with his missing Gotham Academy hoodie once. The weird lack of boundaries had taken some getting used to. Seeing various family members naked for decontamination showers or medical procedures helped hurry that along. It was hard to care about who’s hoddie it was was after washing off cuddle pollen together.

The roar of a bike filled the Cave and Duke didn’t even look up. He knew the sound of Red Hood’s bike.

Man, he really had been in this family too long now, he thought and buried his face in his arms. Would they notice if he just went back to sleep?

“Perhaps some tea, Master Duke?”

Guess so.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Duke said and dragged himself properly upright to accept the mug of tea. At least it was warm.

Duke sipped at the tea, his favorite blend of course, as Jason sped into the Cave like the badass bastard he was. He spun his bike to a stop in one of the open spots.

“Hood,” Bruce addressed the other, the Batman™ gravel seeped into his voice even though he was dressed down in sweats, a hoodie Duke was pretty sure was actually Jason’s, and a brace on his wrist.

They all knew what Bruce meant though: report why an all-hands was called, why Tim wasn’t there, did those of them not suited up need to, was anyone they cared about hurt?

“No, old man, you report,” Jason said as he stalked up the steps towards them. “Who the fuck were you fucking fifteen years ago?”

Duke pinched himself to make sure he was actually awake and not still in bed having the most awkward dream. Alright, well, that hurt. So much for being saved from this conversation by the T-rex suddenly coming to life and breathing fire and them having to take it down with squirt guns and pool noodles.

He’d had some weird dreams since coming to live in the manor, alright?

“Um, ask what now, little wing?” Dick asked, looking between Jason and Bruce.

“I asked what I asked,” Jason said. He’d made it to the computer and they all turned obediently to look at the screen. Jason tugged off his helmet and set it down as he leaned against the console. “Who the fuck were you sleeping with at that time, Bruce?”

Bruce stared at Jason for a long moment. “Selina, mostly. Some socialites and such maybe still. What’s going on, Jason?”

“Oracle,” Jason said, not taking his eyes Bruce. “Red should have sent you some media. You’ll get why. Throw something fitting up on the screen.”

Despite what the superhero community and Gotham thought, everyone in the Cave knew that Batman was far from unflappable. They had all pulled one over on him before. But Duke had never seen Bruce looking like that before. As that image went up on the screen, it looked like someone had just shattered his brittle heart into pieces.

Duke couldn’t blame him. The sickly looking guy on the screen made Duke want to go find someone to punch and it wasn’t his face the other was wearing.

“Holy shit,” Steph whispered.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Damian ordered.

“Jay?” Dick prompted when Bruce seemed unable to find the words.

Jason scowled down at the ground. “Red and I were on patrol. He noticed… blood.”

Babs brought another image up on the left monitor without prompting. It was a Gotham alley like any other except it was splattered with a green spray.

“That is Lazarus water, that is not blood,” Damian said. His words were as haughty as ever, but there was a wobble under them.

“It’s blood for him,” Jason said. “Trust me. I held the kid as Red stitched him up. Knife wound. It was the only… new wound. Oracle, did Red send you…”

A new image popped up on the left screen and Jason closed his eyes. Duke had to swallow heavily and look away himself. He got now why Jason came in demanding who Bruce had slept with. Bruce’s heart was going to break all over again.

“Who?” Cass signed. Her motion was sharp and aggressive as she pulled her thumb from her chin after the sign.

“We don’t know,” Jason said. “He was jumpy.”

The picture of the horrible injuries was replaced by a video, clearly from Red’s suit. The guy was pressed against the wall, one hand gripped tight over the wet, green stain on his hoodie. He looked dwarfed in it.

“Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out,” Tim said in the video. Duke could hear how he was keeping his tone carefully light.

“…just who are you supposed to be?” The guy’s voice could barely be heard.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The guy snorted, curling further into himself rather than relaxing at that. “So you’re just going to hand me over to the government then?”

Everyone in the cave stiffened at that, including Jason, which was interesting.

“Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.”

“So that you can interrogate me? No thanks.”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

As the guy gave a horrible laugh, Duke reached out and touched Cass’ elbow, reminding her they were all there. These sort of things always hit her hard. She sent him a grateful smile before focusing back on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

The guy tensed suddenly, weight shifting like he was about to bolt as the video slumped slightly sideways.

Jason’s voice rumbled from close to the camera. “You’re what, sixteen?”

“…fifteen?”

“Uncertain,” Cass spoke. Duke had to agree, the guy didn’t know how old he was, not for sure.

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

Duke tracked the motion of the hood as it slipped. The white hair was curious, considering Bruce, but if the guy was a meta or had been in the Lazarus Pits long enough… or worse, both…

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid,” the Jason of the video said, something they all knew was true. It was an argument still often enough on bad days. “I’ve got places to put you if you needed somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or we can get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The guy laughed again. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

It was Tim who asked, “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?”

After the photo earlier, they all knew what the guy would look like when he lifted his head, but it still made Duke glance over at Bruce.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

Jason motioned and the video stopped there and went away.

Bruce closed his eyes.

I need to get to Bruce Wayne.

Another son he didn’t know about. Another son he failed to save from a horrible childhood because he didn’t know they existed.

“He didn’t want to see you right away, but we think that Tim and I convinced him that we could arrange a meeting between you and him,” Jason said.

“Of course,” Bruce answered instantly.

Jason just gave a little nod and explained, “He doesn’t trust the offer, or us, completely. It was enough to get him to the safe house. Passed out on the way.”

“And still asleep,” Tim piped up from the computer. “I’ve been running analysis on the… collar he’s wearing. It’s definitely a one off, but very professionally made. There’s, well, there was a tracker in it that’s been crushed. It’s meant to deliver a shock if someone messes with it, but I can disable that long enough to remove it.”

“You should wait until one of is is there,” Duke spoke up. “Just… in case there’s a reaction when it’s removed.”

Duke ducked his head when all eyes turned to him, still bashful as the newest member of the family. Bruce had been trying to reassure the other, but he knew that was far from his own strength. Clearly he needed to try a different approach.

“Just, you know, he’s clearly a meta? Of some type? It’s probably a containment collar and it could release a, you know, backlog? Of power?”

“Good thinking,” Bruce assured Duke.

“Someone better get here quick then. I hate seeing this thing on him,” Tim grumbled. At least he agreed.

Bruce looked back at the photo still on the center screen to the pale, drawn face. Even in sleep his son’s face was etched with pain.

“Bruce?” Dick prompted.

Bruce took a breath and made himself focus, to be Batman, not a grieving father. How often had he had to make that choice? “Dick, you and Jason both should go. Tim, as soon as the collar is off I want you and Oracle working on it but stay mindful of traps.”

“Will do,” Tim replied.

“And what of the rest of us?” Damian asked.

His youngest had come so far, but Bruce knew this would be a big disruption for him. They would have to watch him. He caught Cass’ eyes and she gave the slightest nod.

“I want Robin, Batgirl, and Spoiler out on the streets. Don’t ask questions yet, we don’t want to lead anyone to him, but get a sense of the mood around the big players. If this is already on anyone’s radar, I want to know.”

“And you need to make a list,” Jason said. “Kid talked in his sleep, begged his mom to stop. Could just be nightmares…”

“I’ll make one,” Bruce said. His bedroom proclivities were hardly what the papers reported, but with how this new son wasn’t certain of his age, it could be pre-Dick, or even at the start of Dick joining the family. It certainly meant there would be more names then any of the years later on. Whoever it was though, Bruce would find them.

He had to try and do that much for his son.

--- AN: Not entirely sure about Bruce's part here, but he's always harder for me to write! I think goal is to get at least one POV with all of the kids, so I guess Dick's is next likely! I'm super fuzzy today (fatigue, day fuck it, seven? Eight? Of this headache), so I hope this is at least decent~

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons #trauma tuesday

1K notes · View notes

welldonebeca · 4 months

Text

Glitter and Goo (I)

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

You watched the door of the ship nervously as Bucky ran up, keeping your distance as he practically barked at you in the COM system to do.

"Are you sure you're alright?" you insisted as he walked past you, sniffing, a little irritated on the nose.

What was that smell?

"I'm fine," he grunted. "I just need to clean up."

You hesitated a bit. The two of you were alone in that mission, to find some special element on a different planet.

"Did you get it?" you asked him, crossing your arms.

Bucky walked into the isolated decontamination shower.

"I did," he called from inside. "It's in my pocket."

You walked near the door, trying not to look inside.

"Get me a ziplock bag," he commanded.

"Are you sure you are alright?" you insisted. "Bucky, if it sprayed on you-"

He didn't even let you finish.

"I'll be fine," he snapped. "Just get me the ziplock bag!"

You stood stiffly, surprised by the harsh words.

Now, that wasn't like Bucky.

He sighed on the other side.

"Sorry," he spoke quickly. "I'm just... I want to wash this off of me."

You walked to the side, taking some of the ziplock bags you had.

"What happened?" you asked him, showing the empty ziplock to him.

The door opened slightly, and he pulled it from your hand quickly, closing the door again.

"Fucking flower exploded in front of me when I was kneeling," Bucky explained. "There's powder and goo everywhere. But I'm alright, really. Just... let me shower."

You pressed your lips together, but kept quiet, not wanting to fight with him and have a long, awkward trip back home. It was just the two of you for two fucking days.

"Do you want me to get you a change of clothes?" you offered.

This wasn't your shared bathroom, it was a fucking decontamination shower.

Bucky sighed.

"Yeah," he decided. "Please."

You did, placing it down in the exit and putting your protection equipment before taking his clothes and the element.

His jacket was covered in some pink shimmery dust, as he had just gotten in the way of a glitter bomb.

You took some of it too, putting it in your database, along with some of the goo, though most of it seemed to have dried already. The best-case scenario was that nothing would happen, but it was best to be safe.

"Friday?" you called. "Can you send a copy of these to HQ too? Maybe someone knows what they are."

"Yes, ma'am," the system answered back.

By the time you were done and back, Bucky had left the decontamination shower, and looked very grumpy.

"Hey," you stopped in front of him, still a little hesitant. "Doing alright?"

He glanced up at you, eyes lingering on your chest before moving to your face, scrubbing his metal arm.

"I'll have to get someone to look into my arm," he told you. "I don't know if something got between the plates."

You tilted your head, surprised.

"I thought it was self-cleaning," you noted. "Like... a fancy self-cleaning oven, of sorts."

His lips curled in a tiny smile at your joke.

"Most of the time," he confirmed. "But I never had alien pollen and goo on it before."

You shrugged, amused.

"Well, good luck," you wished him. "I sent that stuff to the database, just to be sure."

He hummed a bit in confirmation, and you left him alone, going to the food supply to fix dinner for you two.

"Bucky?" you called. "Why didn't you tell me they packed us lemons?"

Bucky had been the one to deal with the food on the way up, more used to making food in a ship than you'd ever been.

You looked back at the lack of answer and walked back to where you'd left him, finding him resting back on the wall, looking a little loopy.

"Bucky?" you called.

He jumped, surprised, though his eyes were still heavy.

"Hi," he gasped back. "Sorry, what?"

"Lemons," you told him. "You didn't tell me we had them. I can make lemonade."

Bucky took his hand to his nose, pinching in.

"I'm not hungry," he told you. "Maybe just... I don't know. Squeeze one for yourself?"

You shifted on your feet.

"Are you alright?"

Bucky rubbed his eye.

"Yeah," he waved you a dismissive hand.

"Maybe you should have a nap?" you suggested. "Did you sleep since we left?"

He moved slowly, shaking his head.

"Gotta make sure you're safe," he mumbled. "We're in space."

You shook your head.

Bucky was so protective, and it was cute, but it worried you a bit. You were a scientist, not an agent or an Avenger, like him, but it didn't mean you couldn't protect yourself. You worked for SHIELD! Being able to protect yourself was probably the most important thing after being good at your job.

"Well, we can't be more alone," you assured him. "And the ship is very good at protecting anyone who is inside."

He scoffed, but you reached for him anyway, pulling him.

"Come on," you told him. "Bedtime for you."

He grunted but followed you quietly as you guided him down to your shared dorm, sitting him on his bed - the bigger one, large enough to fit his massive body.

"Don't want to leave you alone," he fell back, hand holding yours closely.

You squeezed his hand and he took it closer to his face, nosing your skin.

"I'll be alright," you assured him. "Don't worry."

But Bucky didn't let you go, holding you with such firmness you couldn't help but focus a little too much on it.

His lips brushed against the back of your hand as his eyes closed, mumbling something so low you couldn't quite understand the words.

He dozed, and when you tried to move, he just held you in place.

You sighed, and reached for your bed, taking your pillow and sneaking it to his side. It was weird, maybe, but when you put it near his face, he sought it with his nose, sniffing it and moving closer and grabbing it, finally letting you go.

Bucky nuzzled your pillow happily, holding it in a tight grip as he turned to his side, and it awakened something in you, imagining how it would feel to be the one he was squeezing so closely like that.

Still, you stood up, shaking some wisdom into yourself and walking out, closing the door.

He needed to rest.

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515 @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs? @patzammit? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics? @alexisshoto

@dreams-of-feysand @dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

308 notes · View notes

dfortrafalgar · 5 days

Note

Hiii! I'm so happy you are taking requests! I love the way you write, everything feels so real! I'm loving ILY and it's a bittersweet feeling now that it is ending (I'm the anon that commented early on saying that it was so relatable because I also had a miscarriage at 6 weeks). Thank you for that fic 🥰🤗

Now, my requests, if you choose to take it! I would love a jealous/protective Law X fem reader. I was thinking, no established relationship but some flirting going on, perhaps. Could be SFW or NSFW, it's up to you! I would just really loooooove some protective Law! I'm also obsessed with his hands so you can do whatever with that 😂

Did I mention that I love your writting? I did? I'll do it again. Thank you for sharing your gift! ❤️

I'm in annon but you can call me R.J. 😋😎

AAA HELLO R.J im so happy to hear from you again!!!!! no lie ive been thinking about you every day, your first message during my story was so amazingly sweet and touching and i havent been able to stop thinking about it, im so happy that you loved the end of the fic and to hear that you're doing well!!! <333

i ended up projecting a bit in this fic... and it ended up being a bit more Protective Law rather than Jealous Law, but i hope you like it all the same! i also juggled on nsfw, but decided that sfw worked better for this specific plot, so i hope that's alright!!!

thank you so much for requesting!!!! 💗❤️💓💕

Decontaminate the Heart

Law x Fem Reader

Your feelings toward Law had gone from a reasonable level of respect to a deep infatuation that you were readily keeping hidden. An unfortunate encounter with a predatory shopkeep might be what unravels your feelings... and the feelings of your captain.

Warnings: some descriptions of gross behavior from a stranger, light fluff, pre-relationship vibes, protective law but also struggling-to-accept-his-feelings awkward law

Law wasn’t fond of the word ‘jealous.’ After all, he was a seasoned veteran in the long game of Keeping All Human Emotions Bottled Up Inside So That You Don’t Show Weakness To Those Who Might Be Out To Hurt You. He had become a pro at it, too. After all, putting a word to an undefined emotion only validated that feeling, which was exactly the opposite of what Law needed. Mouth constantly downturned in a pensive frown, steely, cold eyes shutting down all encounters with those he deemed unfamiliar or even the slightest bit threatening, holding even his closest friends at arm’s length on good days. If he wasn’t the strong-willed, feared captain of the Heart Pirates, a man with a three billion beri bounty on his head, then who was he?

The answer is: a loser. He was a loser. Especially after he brought you on board his crew as a boatswain. That day, he unwillingly began the downward spiral that would transform into his emotional demise. A psychic catastrophe. An inner turmoil of the highest degree.

Ikkaku called it infatuation. Bepo called it love. The rest of his raunchy, stifled male crew called it being horny.

Whatever it was, it had Law in a steel trap, never letting go.

And on a particularly warm, sunny day, docked cliffside on an island with idyllic spring weather, his steel trap was donned in a flowy sundress that complimented her entire outward appearance in a way he didn’t think was humanly possible. When she first greeted Law before they departed the Polar Tang, she had bent down slightly, holding her hands together in front of her and pushing her biceps together just enough that her cleavage was on center stage for just a brief moment. She had giggled at the way Law’s face flushed with a crimson hue. Unprovoked… but not necessarily unappreciated.

Days for leisure were hard to come by as a pirate, so the crew was sure to take full advantage of the opportunities that crossed your path. The pirates were given the freedom to roam to their heart’s content, so long as they didn’t cause trouble. “Stress-free activities are crucial to maintaining good cardiac health,” Law would say. But everyone knew he enjoyed some sparring days off just as much as any average bloke.

Especially when those days off were spent in your company.

“Thank you for coming with me, Captain!” you quipped, your voice cheerful as you walked beside him, a small paper bag clutched in your hand, containing a small product you had just purchased from one of the local shops. The entire crew had shed their usual boiler suits for the day in exchange for more casual attire, you taking the opportunity to don the sundress that you had purchased a few months ago with Ikkaku. “I’m always happy when you take days off to get out of that stuffy office of your’s.”

Law fought tooth and nail to keep the pleased smirk that twitched his lips from showing on his face. He already needed to duel with his wandering eyes which kept itching to gaze at the way your breasts fit into the bodice of your light, flowy gown. “Of course, it’s nice to get out sometimes.” ‘With you,’ he added in his head before quickly balling up the thought into a crumpled mess and chucking it into a garbage pail. The worst part about all of this, unrelated to walking side-by-side with you (which was the complete opposite of a bad thing), was the fact that he was pressured to leave Kikoku behind on the Polar Tang. He felt naked without his sword perched on his right shoulder.

Your eyes were eagerly glancing between the storefronts that surrounded you on both sides, happy townspeople window shopping with their families and loved ones, partaking in the outdoor food markets, and spending quality time in the sun. The domestic bliss of days like this always made your soul feel lighter, your footsteps almost floating off the ground. A few couples passed by, their hands intertwined and souls combining with bliss, a sight that made Law’s own fingers twitch with the deep-seeded need to grasp your hand. Every once in a while, your own fingers would tingle with the desire to reach out for him as well.

He wouldn’t hold your hand because of affection, Law told himself. It was just to make sure other people knew you were off limits.

Was that because of affection? Was he even entitled to such a thought?

He stifled a frustrated groan. “Are you looking for something?” he asked curiously, picking up on the way your gleaming eyes darted to and fro.

“There was a shop I read about in the latest paper that I could have sworn was on this island…” you muttered, bringing your free hand up to nervously stroke the skin of your cheek. After a few more moments, your face lit up as your eyes landed on a shop tucked away between two larger markets, almost completely hidden from public view. “Found it!”

Law’s heart almost leapt out of his throat when you subconsciously snatched his hand, yanking him out of the flow of people on the street and towards the storefront. His stern golden eyes flashed up towards the sign above the front door.

‘WILD BILL’S PAWN SHOP’

“You read about this somewhere?” he asked, his voice revealing a level of skepticism as you stopped in front of the front door. A dingy, beat-up ‘OPEN’ sign carved into a plank of birch wood and hanging from a rusty chain was flipped outward toward the street, beckoning townsfolk inside to peruse whatever wares were contained within the unassuming wooden shack.

You excitedly nodded. “Yup, I was looking for places that might sell rare coins.”

Law’s breath caught in his throat. “But you don’t collect coins.”

“I was looking for you!” you called out, flashing him a smile that could have easily put him in an early grave. So much for being conscious of his heart health. With the way his organ was hammering behind his sternum, he had half a mind to be worried about spontaneous cardiac arrest.

Instead of responding, all he could muster was a quiet, pensive, “Hmm.”

You finally released his hand (his palm felt so cold now), and pushed open the thin wooden door to enter the shop. An obnoxious, ear-piercing bell chimed above the hinges, alerting any other shoppers or employees of your entrance. Law always hated gimmicks like that, they were a pirate’s worst nightmare. Instantly, the smell of centuries old dust and mildew flooded Law’s nose, making him suppress a sneeze into the collar of his shirt. He was about to make a snide remark about being susceptible to allergens, but kept his lips sealed when an amused giggle emitted from your lips at the way his face contorted with mild disgust.

He blindly followed you to the back of the store, past dusty shelves containing books from all walks of life, old technology that Law had never even seen before, and antiques from across the globe. Your expression remained one of wonder as you passed by each new item, gazing fondly at some of the more sentimental goods- boxes of old postcards, old newspapers from decades prior, wanted posters for pirates long deceased. For such a ratty-looking establishment, the variety of wares this ‘Wild Bill’ had on hand was quite impressive. In the very back of the store, a long glass case spanning almost the entire length of the wall was situated, separating a back room from the rest of the establishment. There was a small space to walk around behind the case in between the wall, where small sliding doors were built in to allow someone to remove the wares kept safe inside.

Law’s eyes finally lit up in wonder.

A plethora of fine metalwork was kept in the special enclosure, jewelry with the finest minerals and perfectly sculpted details in precious velvet boxes, metal treasures surely passed down through generations of wealth, and in the nearest corner, an assortment of collectable, commemorative coins from across the world. You smiled to yourself as Law drifted toward the coins, crouching down on his calves to more closely inspect what the shop had to offer.

He was so adorable.

“Can I help you folks with anything?” a voice from behind you asked, startling you from your affectionate daze.

A larger, older man emerged from behind one of the tall bookshelves, his hands in his pockets. He was dressed surprisingly gaudy, a bright purple overcoat that traveled past his rump covering a sky-blue button-up shirt and a polka dot bowtie. His belly was quite large, a curled handlebar mustache perched atop his upper lip. He looked wildly out of place in such a modest, dusty shop. Must be Wild Bill.

You flashed a cordial smile. “Just looking around!”

The sound of your talking alerted Law, who stayed crouched in front of the coin collection but tossed accusatory glares over his shoulder, assessing the man’s interactions with you under an analytical gaze. Out of instinct, as a pirate. As a captain. Nothing more… probably.

“Well, let me know if you need help finding anything!” the man hollered, his receding hairline making the dim light of the nearby lamps reflect off his oily skin. He stepped behind the glass containers with a small huff and disappeared into the back room, a curtain swooping closed behind him.

With the outrageous stranger gone, Law resumed looking over the fine details of each coin housed within their own individual boxes, while you approached the other end of the glass case and examined the jewelry.

Your eyes darted excitedly between pieces. Delicate rings with rare gemstones sat perfectly in their boxes, some dated as old as centuries ago. A bracelet that was assembled with the finest minerals, gleaming brightly through the dim atmosphere of the shop. As your eyes continued to dart from one object to the next, you finally found yourself entranced by one thing in particular. It was a necklace, more of a choker than a longer-hanging piece, with a small purple amethyst mounted elegantly in the center of a silver pendant. The complimentary silver chain seemed to be fairly heavy duty just as it was delicate enough to still be an elegant accessory. You felt a smile pull at your lips. You doubted you had enough beri to afford it, but you’d be damned if you couldn’t at least try it on.

Wild Bill once again appeared from behind the curtain after a few moments, placing a few items on top of the counter to be placed inside the glass enclosure. Law watched as the old man’s gaze turned to you as you bent over, tucking your dress behind your knees to crouch down and get a closer look at the amethyst necklace.

“Anything caught your eye, missy?” Bill asked, his voice far too loud for such a small shop as he leaned over the top of the counter and gazed through the transparent surface at the pieces you were admiring. A seemingly friendly smile adorned his pudgy face.

You enthusiastically nodded. “Yes, actually, can I try on this necklace?” Your finger pointed through the protective barrier toward your interest. “The one with the small amethyst pendant.”

Law kept watching your interaction out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course, of course!” boomed Bill, bending over and sliding the door of the case open to remove the necklace, holding it by the chain in his large, burly hand.

Without being asked, he stepped out from behind the counter and approached you from behind, unclasping the chain and looping it around your neck. Law watched, his leg muscles tensing as you visibly stiffened at the proximity of the man as he clasped the chain together around your neck. He pulled over a small standing mirror to have you admire the piece that sat elegantly between your collarbones. Your fingers ghosted over the gemstone embedded in the fine silver, a small smile ghosting over your lips.

“It looks absolutely beautiful,” you whispered.

Bill stepped closer, almost pinning you from behind against the counter. His large hands rested against the glass case, caging you in. “It does… fitting for a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

The air went ice cold as Law watched the man’s hand wander upward, trailing across your forearm and up toward your bicep, across your shoulder and to your neck. Your face had quickly contorted into an expression of terror, having been caged against the counter all of a sudden against your will, being caressed by this stranger. Law felt frozen. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, to get you out of this shop as soon as possible. But he couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

“I’m sorry, I think I’m going to pass, actually,” you uttered, trying to push yourself away from him. Your voice had quickly grown shaky, apprehensive.

“No, no, it really does suit you!” Bill murmured, his head angling downward, predatory eyes gazing over the soft skin of your neck. The way he kept you pinned against the counter prevented you from moving away from him. His belly was almost pushed flush against your back, making your hands tremble in fear.

“ROOM.”

A flash of blue light engulfed the surrounding area. You immediately breathed a sigh of mild relief. A static sensation permeated the space around you, making goosebumps rise across your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Just as soon as the bubble surrounded you, the predatory man was replaced with your captain standing protectively behind you, his lean hand on your shoulder to keep you steady.

Now he’d done it.

“You’re…” Bill stammered, his own hands shaking with realization. “I’ve seen that ability, you’re… you’re…!”

Law didn’t give him time to fully realize who’s identity he was dealing with before his hand was in yours, forcefully dragging you out of the shop, harshly pushing between narrow shelves of delicate antiques until the two of you burst back out into the sunlight. Law didn’t let up his pace, your feet barely keeping you steady as you ran. Onlookers stepped back, shocked gasps and wide eyes following the two of you in your mad scramble back to the cliff where the submarine was kept concealed. He just needed to get you some place secure. Somewhere where you could wash away the phantom grime of the hands that had just touched you.

What a bad day to leave his sword behind.

The two of you had just barely made it past the outskirts of the port town when you tripped, slamming into Law’s backside and falling to your knees with a pained grunt. The shoes you were wearing definitely weren’t built for mad sprints through a town.

“Shit…” Law grumbled, crouching down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

Your hands were still shaking, anxiously palming the dirt and grass beneath your fingers as your lungs heaved, desperate to catch up on the oxygen you lost in your frantic sprint. Small tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes, but you were quick to blink them away. Your heart was pounding madly in your chest, your brain a fuzzy mess of scrambled, panicked thoughts that couldn’t make sense in any order. Law was so close to you, so close you could almost smell the mild soap he used in the shower. Something woody. Mellow. So very him. You wanted to hug him. The stress of the sudden incident was rapidly catching up to you.

Instead, the only thing you managed to do was blurt out an awkward, weary, “Thank you.”

Law wordlessly helped you to your feet, walking you back to the Polar Tang. His mouth was drawn in that pensive line once more.

—

It took a few hours for you to register the fact that you had sprinted out of the pawn shop with the necklace still clasped around your neck. When you took it off, you held it gently in your hands, gazing at the way the brilliant purple gem was nestled perfectly in the metal sculpted around it. But the fingerprints around the chain from the predatory man who groped you left a phantom burning pain on your skin. You still loved the piece, you truly did, and you wished you could wear it, but you felt violated. There was no denying it.

You needed to scrub it clean. You needed to scrub your own body clean, it seemed.

Law was in the medical bay when you carefully knocked on the door, hoping that no one was in there with him. The tired sounding, ‘Come in,’ granted you permission to gently push the heavy hatch door open, stepping into the dim lighting and closing the entrance behind you.

Your captain was in the midst of re-organizing the entire medicine cabinet, floor to ceiling. He did it when he was stressed.

“Yeah?” was all he asked when you entered, barely looking away from his obsessive work while you stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding your necklace in your cupped hands like it was a suspicious specimen to be brought to a lab.

“I know this is a weird request, but can you disinfect this?” you asked.

You held up the necklace by the very end of the chain, dangling it in the air away from you. Law finally turned his attention toward you, an eyebrow raised.

“Why?” He sounded genuinely oblivious to why you would ask for such a favor.

You rocked back and forth on your heels. “It still feels like it has the fingerprints of that guy. From the shop,” you clarified. When you said it out loud, you grimaced at how childish you sounded, but at the same time, you felt your concerns, your insecurities over what had transpired, were justified.

You were violated. Case closed.

It seemed Law picked up on that as well. As much as he struggled to put himself in other peoples’ shoes, he could see the anxious look in your eyes that told him everything he needed to know- you wanted to wash away all traces of the man who burst your personal bubble in one of the worst ways imaginable.

Law felt a searing jealousy in his chest, the sudden reminder of the way your face contorted in utter horror as you were touched.

Your captain wordlessly stepped forward and gently took the chain from your fingers. You watched him silently as he stepped back toward the counter, rummaging through the supplies he had laid out mid-organizing before procuring an opaque bottle of rubbing alcohol and filling a small container about halfway with the solution before submerging your necklace inside. He capped the bottle and placed it back where he found it, amongst his other disinfectant chemicals.

“We’ll let that sit for a few minutes,” he suggested. “In the meantime, I have these wet napkins you can use to clean your neck, if you want.”

He took the words right out of your head, as if he could read your mind. You gratefully accepted the small container of alcohol wipes, starting with your neck and rubbing the cold solution down your collarbones, chest, and arms. You didn’t care if it would dry out your skin later, the feeling of wiping away that man’s fingerprints in some capacity was more freeing than anything else in the world.

Law simply watched, glancing away from you every once in a while when you turned at an angle that would let you see him staring wanton daggers in your direction. He shouldn’t be watching you scrub yourself down while fully clothed, if anything that could also be a violation of your unspoken privacy.

After what felt like hours, you finally disposed of the wipes in the nearby waste receptacle while Law fished out your necklace with a gloved hand, placing it on a dry cloth and carefully removing all the liquid from the surface of the metal.

He started speaking without thinking. “Silver and amethyst are sturdy materials that can be placed in rubbing alcohol for disinfecting,” he stated. “If this was some other weaker gem, like an emerald, it wouldn’t be so easy.”

You grinned, stepping closer as he polished the chain. His hand that wasn’t gloved carefully moved along the cloth, outlining the shape of the necklace folded under it in precise, delicate motions.

Goodness, you loved his hands.

“So you’re as good with rocks and minerals as you are with health science?” you asked, a small, playful smirk on your lips.

Law’s own mouth twitched upward. “I suppose so.” He gently unfolded the cloth and removed the necklace. “There, all clean.”

You grinned appreciatively, turning around and brushing away any obstacles in the way of your neck.

He stared at you from behind your back. “... What are you doing?” he asked dumbly.

You tossed a glance over your shoulder. “Waiting for you to put it on.”

Law chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I trust you.”

What you didn’t say was just how much you trusted him. You would willingly lay down your life for your captain, the love for him, both as a person and as a pirate, greatly surpassing that of a captain and his subordinate. Sometimes, well, most of the time, you desperately hoped that he felt the same way.

After understanding your request, Law stepped toward you slightly, one hand still gloved as he looped the necklace around the front of your neck, bringing both ends of the chain around the back to clasp at the base of your spine. His deft, inked fingers left scorching hot trails in their wake, your skin craving his touch. The complete opposite of your counter in the pawn shop.

Once secured, you turned around to face him, a pleased smile on your face as your fingers once again ghosted over the delicate, purple mineral embedded into the pendant. “How does it look?”

Law prayed that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t noticeable through the dim lighting on the medical bay. He would put necklaces on your soft skin every day if you’d let him.

Oh, how he wished you’d let him.

“It looks great…” he mumbled, his voice soft and apprehensive. “It suits you.”

His voice, the anxious tilt of his eyebrows, spoke volumes to you as your smile grew wider. “Hey, Law?”

He turned his attention back to you, his lips pressed firmly together.

“Thank you for protecting me back there,” you sighed. Your voice had gone quiet, but the look on your face was indebted.

“Of course,” he whispered back. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, his brain clearly struggling to say the words he so desperately wanted to say.

The sight had you suppressing a giggle as you stepped forward, fighting back your reservations as you wrapped your arms around his torso in a hug, dropping your head into the crook of his shoulder and inhaling that scent that was oh-so familiar to you. Disinfectant and oil, so clearly from living life on the Polar Tang, but also so distinctly him.

You loved it.

You were starting to come to the conclusion that you really loved him.

And with the way Law’s arms slowly wrapped around your own body, the hands you loved so much resting between your shoulder blades and the lowest point of your back, you started to wonder if he secretly, deep down in that weary heart of his, felt the same way about you.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #request fics

241 notes · View notes

tanglepelt · 1 year

Text

Dc x dp idea 52

Danny is Bruce’s son. Danny knows. Bruce doesn’t.

Maddie and jack couldn’t conceive a second child. Somehow stole Bruce’s dna and made Danny.

Danny finds his files and confronts them.

They confirm it.

Danny doesn’t want to deal with any other billionaire fruitloops so doesn’t tell anyone minus jazz and his friends

Plus his parents tell him he’d get them arrested if he told anyone. That they did it out of love. Not just for science. Basically convince him not to say a word.

Fentons find out about Danny being half ghost. They are prepared to hand over Danny to GIW. Vlad offers a different solution he could take the little badger and put him through decontamination. He assures them he can fix Danny.

The Fenton parents agree. But tell vlad they are reporting it the Giw. In case Danny decides to flee treatment.

Danny is quick to get out of there.

With the files and dna test in hand . He decides perhaps he can hide out with his bio dad. Just until he can locate Ellie.

He’ll just travel around with her. They don’t need anyone but the two of them. Jazz can join after she finishes college.

He’d only need a hiding place for about a month or so. Bruce wouldn’t even need to talk to him or anything.

So he shows up at the manor. The dna test is off course positive. Danny just flat out says, yea I’m hiding from the government and my fruitloop of a godfather. Both want to capture me. One for painful experimentation and the other to forcefully adopt me. Then says he’d rather get experimented on then adopted by the fruitloop.

Obviously danny isn’t gone by the end of the month and much to his annoyance Ellie likes the place. The GIW has also been dealt with.

622 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 3 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 15: Love is... Co-Parenting (Prompt by... me! sorry-not-sorry for being self-indulgent)

wc: 1076 | Rated: T for swearing | cw: None

Tags: Steddie Dads (for my Joanie Munson AU), Valentine's Day Crafts, Co-Parenting Negotiation Tactics, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson

'Eddie vs. Valentine's Day Crafts'

Eddie splutters away, swatting at his face. He can see a speck of red glitter in his periphery, a remnant of his red glitter and heart-shaped confetti-filled afternoon. The offending shimmer is somewhere on his cheek and he needs to get rid of it this instant, or he is going to fucking scream.

He foolishly thought he had already removed all traces of Valentine’s Day crafts from his very being via what felt more like a decontamination scrub-down than a warm shower. Eddie grumbles, thinking about the monumental clean-up effort he endured right through to past dinnertime and his mind turns to the clothes hamper…

A job for Tomorrow Morning Steve, he smiles to himself, blinking and glitter free.

He holds out his hand for one final confirmation that the glitter has been vanquished once and for all.

Only he finds a little pink heart stuck to the middle of his goddamn palm.

“Fuck!” he curses, flailing on the bed and punching his fist into the sheets.

The mattress dips on the other side as a craft supply-free Steve finally joins him. The lucky bastard doesn’t know how good he has it!

“What’s wrong?” Steve chuckles.

Eddie rolls haphazardly onto his side, his legs tangling up in their bedding as he all but shoves his palm into his partner’s face.

“I take it all back,” he rants, “Our little girl is a complete gremlin. A stinky little bean who makes it her life’s mission to make a mess. Look!”

Steve grabs his wrist and moves it back at a (reasonable) distance, squinting without his glasses. He shrugs.

“Wonder where she gets it from?” he quips and Eddie all but yelps with frustration.

Steve gently curls up Eddie’s hand in his own and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I think we should drop her on Robin and Nance’s doorstep,” Eddie continues and scrunches his nose in every attempt to remain focused on complaining, even though his partner begins to massage his tense hand, “The glitter can be their problem. They love crafts!”

“I like my Valentine’s Day cards,” Steve says absentmindedly as he continues his ministrations, now rubbing at the skin typically covered by rings, “Made with love by my favourite munchkin...”

He leans over for a kiss when Eddie spots a red shimmer in his hair – an impossibility that causes him to throw himself onto Steve and dry-sob into his blue sleeping shirt.

“You know the trade-off,” Steve says, his hands moving to his hair with combing movements Eddie shouldn’t find so soothing right now, “I do Christmas crafts, you have Valentine’s Day and Halloween. I can’t help it if I’m better at containing glitter than you.”

Eddie pulls back and glares.

“Fuck you,” he spits with no real heat behind his words because Steve flashes a toothy grin and winks.

“Speaking of cards…” he purrs, taking his hand again and interlocking their fingers, “Where’s my naughty one?”

They both side-eye Steve’s pillow, a year’s old hiding spot for said obscene greeting cards, in unison.

Eddie yanks back his hand and slumps onto his own pillow, “Don’t know what you could possibly be referring to, Stevie.”

Their particular brand of Valentine’s Day celebrations can wait. He needs to renegotiate this whole co-parenting over holiday crafts thing…

“Think you do…” Steve coos, rolling on his side and shimmying closer, enough that he can press himself flush against Eddie’s side.

Eddie screws his eyes shut. It was cold today but of course, Steve runs hot. So hot that he thinks if they took their clothes off…

He can feel Steve’s breath against his ear as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, “The one where you say all the things you want to do to me…”

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, gulping as his very limited willpower quickly crumbles away. He thinks he’ll do anything to get out of this arrangement by Halloween - or god forbid, whatever random celebration Joanie’s preschool conjures up next.

Funny Hat Day? Easter? Favourite Character Day? Impractical-For-Preschool Clothes Day? Make Your Parents Stay Up All Night In A Glitter-Induced Nightmare Realm As They All But Glue Themselves To The Goddman Kitchen Table-Day?

His eyes shoot open at the thought of possible years to come of this – his vision blurred by a small pale dot of paper sticking to his left lashes.

“God damn it!”

He swishes his hand in front of his face again – at least until Steve bats him away, leans in and delicately plucks the rogue heart off. Steve even has the sense to reach for a tissue on the nightstand and squish the paper inside a balled-up clump, hopefully locking it up for good.

“Here,” he offers, sliding his hand under Eddie’s pillow with ease to retrieve a comically large red envelope, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve pecks him on the cheek before quickly settling to rest his head on his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, dipping his neck to watch Steve snuggle in tight, eyes closed and looking a little bashful.

“Hiding,” he mumbles.

“Did you write me some sappy sonnet, my love?” he asks, tearing the envelope open and filling their quiet bedroom with an abrupt riiip.

“Just... some words,” Steve yawns, as Eddie frees the card and tosses the destroyed envelope onto the floor, “I don’t know, it probably sounds pathetic.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie says, giving the card a once over, his free hand finding its way into Steve’s impossibly soft and fruity-scented locks.

The card features two brown teddy bears, cuddling and cozy as they sit amongst a bed of rose petals. Above are floating glittering red hearts and the words, ‘To my Dearest Husband on Valentine’s Day’.

“Steve,” he sighs, opening the card to a message that spans the whole inside.

“I know you aren't my husband, not technically anyway,” Steve mumbles, peaking through one eye, “But I meant everything I wrote…”

His voice trails off, any grip he has around Eddie’s middle going lax.

“Love you, Steve,” he whispers, “G-get some sleep, hmm?”

Eddie falters in his words, overcome with love for the man wrapped around him (one who is rapidly approaching a state of sleep that leaves him snoring like a jackhammer) as he begins reading about just how much Steve loves walking through life hand-in-hand as they raise their daughter together, confetti hearts and glitter or not.

#i thiiiink i might be late with this one!!!#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie dads #steddie as girl-dads #steddie au #steddielovemonth

111 notes · View notes

gofancyninjaworld · 7 months

Text

The quiet radicalism of basic respect

When you see Saitama with Genos tucked under his arm, you know that that only happened with Genos's specific permission -- and that Saitama would have asked.

The story makes this basic respect explicit. Dire emergencies aside, he never lays hands on Genos without asking, and he respects whatever answer he gets. Just like regular people ought to be able to expect.

When someone is 'other', it's amazing how often this basic respect does not seem to apply. Just as ONE has unashamedly made it clear that he judges people by whether they treat children decently, it looks like decency towards Genos, respecting that he *is* a person and not a fancy alien toy-man-thingie with few physical needs and fewer emotional ones is a mark of a character being a decent person. I like that ONE goes a bit further and makes the point that respecting Genos as a person does not mean liking him or refusing to acknowledge that he might have different needs, and this standard isn't hard to reach:

There's stories out there where Charanko would be a paragon of virtue for having seen beneath the scary exoskeleton and shown that the Cyborg is Not All Evil Afterall. But why?

Given that Saitama almost certainly went with Genos to Kuseno's lab after the Monster Association Raid (how else would Metal Knight not have dragged him to the lab for decontamination and testing?), there is one thing I would love deeply to see. I would love to see Kuseno extending the basic respect given to people, and not putting Genos on display like a freak of nature but insisting that Saitama wait to see him until Genos is conscious, lucid, and expresses the desire to have visitors. Even if that means Saitama leaving without getting to say goodbye in person.

It shouldn't be radical, but we seem to forget our manners when it comes to cyborgs. I'm glad that so far, ONE remembers.

#opm #meta #Genos #his being respected as a human being really is one of the best things #and those who don't tell us something about them

127 notes · View notes

tommysversion · 10 months

Text

Ache: Ezra x AFAB!Reader

Summary: you and Ezra get hit by something mysterious in the atmosphere, and it has... interesting... results.

CWs: dubcon (sex pollen) / breeding kink / Ezra's filthy mouth / unsafe PIV sex / squirting / established relationship (kind of).

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

Tagging: @serenaxpedro , @ezras--moon & @bearsbeetsbeskar

You think you’re used to everything The Green has to offer; the toxic air, the asshole mercenaries, the long days. Think you can handle everything it has to give you, especially now you have a somewhat established situationship with your companion.

Hell, it’s almost nice, the routine you’ve established. Go out prospecting, make it back to the lander, decontaminate, eat, curl up together in a tangle of sweat and satisfaction, Ezra whispering poetry into your ear.

It would be almost romantic if nine times out of ten, you weren’t dripping his cum onto the sheets. Or maybe that’s what makes it so. You don’t want to think too hard about what you are; putting labels on it just complicates things. You’re his, as much as he’s yours, and that’s all there is to it. Anything else makes it too difficult, too real, and once it becomes real, it means you have something to lose.

Anyway.

You’re not sure what’s happened; it’s usually cool in the lander at night, but you’re sweating, overheating, and it has nothing to do with your lover’s hands on you.

Part of you wonders if the air filters have gone faulty again, but you aren’t exactly thinking about the science of the situation right now, far too consumed with need and heat that won’t go away, no matter how desperate you are as you pull him to you, rub your soaked cunt along his cock.

Normally he’d comment on how needy you are, taunt you for it, but whatever is coursing through you has hit him, too, and hit him hard. He’s just as needy as you are, which is saying something.

Usually, he’s the one in control, perfectly composed and whispering filth into your ear as he steadily fucks into you. Not now. He’s clawing at you, spreading your thighs roughly, as though the only thing that matters to him right now is getting your legs wide enough for him to fit between.

It’s a fair assessment; you completely understand it, just as desperate, dragging your dripping pussy along his length as he lifts you into his arms, into his lap, guides himself to your entrance and pulls you, unceremoniously, downwards.

You cry out, making absolutely zero attempt at muffling the sound as you sink onto him, impale your tight cunt on the perfect thickness of him, wriggle your hips to settle, but it’s not enough. He’s as deep inside you as he can get, hips flush to yours, but you still need more, and so does he.

He draws himself out half way before dragging you back down by the hips, drawing a desperate moan from you that jolts straight to his cock. You’re so tight around him, he can feel himself pulse and throb inside you, swears he can feel every drop of pre cum that you milk from his cock as it drips into your eager, welcoming cunt.

“Fuck, please, I need-“ you aren’t even entirely sure what you need; he’s already as deep inside you as he can get, rocking his hips steadily, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each deep stroke.

“I know, sweet thing, I know…” Ezra moans it into your shoulder, even though he doesn’t know either, can’t put into words what you both so desperately need, even though he feels it too. Maybe there’s no words for it, just an overwhelming desire and need to be intimate like this, as though he might actually combust into flames if he doesn’t fuck himself as deep into you as possible.

A tiny part of his brain registers, dimly, that that isn’t scientifically possible, but then again, what does he know? As far as he was aware, whatever the fuck you’ve both been hit by in the atmosphere isn’t scientifically possible, either. The bigger part of his brain - and, arguably, the part thinking with his achingly hard cock - doesn’t care about science right now. All that matters is the steady rhythm of pulling half out of you, slamming back in, over and over, drawing those sweet, unrestrained moans from your lips.

You’ve never been this loud before, this confident; Ezra supposes it’s something to do with the drugs, rather than anything else; it doesn’t hurt his ego, because either way it’s still him causing this reaction, causing you to drag your nails up his chest, leaving claw marks in your wake. He’ll wear those like badges of honour, he thinks, as he leans in and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, sucks a deep purple mark into the soft skin.

You claw at him again, bear down onto him, your voice a wordless symphony of moans and pleas, even if there’s no actual words coming out; he can tell, knows what you want from him. Harder, faster, deeper if he can get there. He does, doesn’t care about the ache he’ll feel later, just as much as you don’t care about the subtle pain as he slams into you. All that matters is this.

You lean in, have to lean up, even in this position, and steal a hungry, demanding kiss, one hand knitting into his hair to keep him close as you take what you need from him, uncaring that when you pull away, your lips are still connected by a faint string of saliva. Maybe any other time, you’d find that disgusting. Not now. Now all that matters is leaving as much of each other on the other as possible.

“Starving, aren’t you?” There’s that vicious glint in his dark eyes again as he nuzzles his face between your tits, pulls you down onto his cock particularly hard. “Can’t blame you.”

He sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, moans at the taste of sweat and salt on your skin, holds you in place as your back arches. He isn’t gentle, teeth scraping, lips greedy; in his frenzied state he almost wishes you had something to give, would gladly lap at any liquid that he could draw from your body, especially when he’s commented before on how much he fucking loves your tits.

Maybe he should just do as you’ve begged of him before, as he’s considered, and fuck you so full of his spend that it takes, claim you as his, spend his nights worshipping at the altar of your body as it grows new life.

His cock throbs inside you at the thought as he pulls away to demand another kiss, moaning into it as his hips buck up against yours; you can only hold on, breathing ragged and desperate, no relief in sight no matter how many times you come for him. At least, not yet.

“C’mon, little dove, I know you can come for me, I can feel how close you are...”

You gasp out, half at the words, half because he finds your sweet spot, the thick head of his cock caressing it almost lovingly with each deep thrust.

“Fuck -“ you whine it out, drawn out and needy, “right there…”

He takes the hint, doesn’t change up the way he’s moving, keeps rutting into you like a man possessed, his hands holding you steady, stroking up and down your back as he urges you closer and closer, until you’re tightening painfully around him, back arching, aching cunt gushing over his cock, soaking him, you, his lap, the thin sheets.

It’s almost instant relief, like a fog in your head is cleared, but all you can do is cling to him; you have no idea how long you’ve been out of it, how long he’s been fucking you, but you’re aching and exhausted and yet still so desperate and determined that he’ll find pleasure too.

Whatever has hit you both clearly still has him in its grasp; part of you wonders if you should stop, now that you’re clear headed, but the way he’s holding onto you like you’re the last tether to life makes it impossible, even if you truly wanted to.

He nuzzles into your shoulder again, presses open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, like he can’t get enough of your scent, your taste, all while keeping himself pressed deep inside you, grinding his hips up into yours.

“Fuck… fuck…” he’s more moaning than speaking; you’ve never heard him sound so desperate, so needy. It must do something to you, because he groans again, nips at the junction of throat and collarbone.

“So wet for me, little dove, so fucking wet, I could find nirvana in this sweet little cunt, fuck-“

Normally, Ezra is a little more restrained; a little more eloquent in his words, making even the most sinful thoughts sound like poetry. Hearing him like this, completely unrestrained, almost feral, sends you over the edge again, drugged or not. You don’t need to be hit with some weird shit in the atmosphere to come again for him, and you do, clinging to him, gasping and sobbing his name as he fucks you through it, trailing more bites and kisses in his wake.

“Gonna come soon, birdie.” His voice is soft in your ear as he kisses just below it. “Gonna stuff you so full of me you’ll be dripping for days…”

You whimper softly at the thought; so far you’ve only been held in his arms, half riding him, half being pulled down onto him. He takes advantage of your distraction to flip you, press you into the bunk so he can fuck deeper into you, harder and faster as he chases his own release, entirely blind to anything but pleasure.

You’re more than happy to be used, to feel the comforting weight of him pressing your body down, your legs hooked tightly around his waist. It’s as if your bodies were made for each other, and you know it, staring up at him through half lidded eyes, lips parted as you study him, that single blonde streak in his hair falling into his face as already dark eyes become depthless with lust as he slams into you one final time, holds himself there.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, feel every hot, thick rope of his spend that fills you as he finally collapses on top of you, panting into your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuck…” he breathes it out between deep breaths, sounding more and more like himself with each passing moment.

You reach up one shaky hand to stroke his hair, just wanting to touch him, to reassure him that you’re there with him.

Silence fills the lander for a few moments before he finally speaks again.

“Hey, birdie?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is still a little ragged, too.

“Think we need to change out the filters in our suits.”

He lifts his head to give you a little smirk; you stare at him for a moment before you laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah I think we do, too.”

Neither of you make any attempt to move; you can change the filters out before you go out again. For now, you just stay wrapped up in each other, enjoying the afterglow and the ache that comes with it.

#pedro pascal #my writing #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra smut #pedro pascal characters #prospect 2018 #prospect movie

245 notes · View notes

driftwithme · 9 months

Text

Hopeful Pacific Rim Headcanons!!!!

Getting exposed to the anteverse made Raleigh healthier, somehow. The theory is that the breach did something to him when it scanned his genetic code, the same as Mako.

Newt and Hermann only know about it 'cause they drifted with that kaiju brain and recognised the strange part of their blood samples. They are also currently working on their memories to see if they can learn more about the kaijus and prevent another breach from happening.

Mako, Newt, Hermann and Raleigh are not entirely human anymore? They are not sure either way.

The closing of the breach, as violent and unexpected as it was, warped Earth time frame. It took LOCCENT some hours to notice that Sttiker Eureka seemed to be floating in the ocean as if nothing had happened. It didn't cure Pentecost like it happened with Raleigh, but it kept them (Stacker and Chuck) alive.

Herc doesn't believe in miracles and he doesn't give credit to the kaijus for the good in his life. For him, getting Chuck back is entirely a product of the skill of the rangers he works with. Humanity doing the impossible time and time and time again.

As an apology for defunding the jeager program and almost dooming humanity in the process, the United Nations kept the PPDC running. There's not enough money to return the jaeger program to what it was, so they all have to adapt.

The PPDC focus is on an hypothetically second invasion now.

J-techs work on creating a new mark of jaegers, smaller, safer, cheaper, but still enough to face a kaiji and win. There are some improvements they want to make as well, like a mechanism of defense that protect the jaeger limbs, maybe spikes or something like that; new escape-pods for the pilots; a kaiju dna detector/radar; and many more.

Along with the classic studies, K-science now includes a whole side dedicated on studying the social and possibly cultural aspects of the kaijus and the anteverse. Another side is dedicated to a better use of the kaiju remins and parts, lile studies on how to regenerate skin or reverse brain damage or use the same system of the kaijus to help the decontamination of the planet.

With the experience of former jaeger pilots, the program's updating the whole cadet training. New simulations based on double and even triple events with Slattern as a possible enemy, new fight techniques for underwater and on air scenarios, a basics of kaiju anatomy and strategies... The pilots also help with the majority of the research nd development of the other areas!

The UN also granted the PPDC the right of working independently of any nation and the exclusivity of jaeger creations. Super important to avoid military forces trying to create their own jaegers to use against mankind, or companies trying to use the drift technology for cold profit, with no ethics attached.

The PPDC allow teens above 16 years old to start their studies in ares like k-science and j-tech, but to join the jaeger pilots program the person must be 18 years old and only become legal rangers after their 22th birthday. Without the kaijus threatening the world, the PPDC has the luxury of going slow with the cadets, selecting only the best and even providing a lot of experience and grow before putting them in charge of a real jaeger. That's to prevent another Scott Hansen, or to prevent teens like Chuck and Raleigh from jumping into the fire before properly maturing, since there's no need of being in such a hurry.

The wall becomes a giant memorial, with artist allowed to practice their crafts on it as they pleased. It's also a reminder: humanity is not alone, the kaijus could come back. Yet, as long as the jaeger program exists, there's always hope to cancel the apocalypse, stop the clock.

124 notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 5 months

Text

My Version of Eyeless Jack

So, there's no cohesive narrative here I just wanted to infodump a bunch of stuff about how I write my EJ. I'll put it in headcanon form but know whenever you read my newer EJ fics (or whenever I get an inkling to talk about him), this is exactly how I envision him and want him to be seen as.

EJ grew up in a Polish somewhat American household. He's a second generation, with his parents both being from Poland and most of their extended family in the old country. His mother is from a smaller city in the southwest, and his father from Krakow. His mother instilled in him a deep love of the natural world, and a hunger for learning.

Jack's obsession for medicine and whatnot came up because his father was just a bit insane about keeping him healthy. Any cough or sneeze was instantly investigated. He was a bit sheltered in that sense, and was prone to sneaking out to experience a normal adolescence and whatnot as he grew up.

While Jack is not averse to getting his hands dirty and doing jobs no one else would even THINK of, he's still gotta go through a full cleansing and decontamination when he's done.

I like to think that, as a kid, he was deeply in love with Slavic mythology and he was, surprise surprise, really into Chernobog. That wasn't Chernobog whispering in his ear he was just always interested whether he realized it or not. This kinda faded out around 12 years old but as a guy that's literally possessed by him now, fused to make an entirely new being, he finds it just a hair ironic.

Yeah, he did have to go to Polish school on the weekends. Sometimes he loved it, other times not at all.

He was his parents only child so he was kind of under a magnifying glass from them both.

He was actually quite close with his grandmothers!

Jack has always had a biting, sarcastic wit. He can balance professionalism with clinical sarcasm fantastically. His humor is very deadpan and he'll dupe you multiple times if you're not careful.

Jack doesn't always understand why people insist on social politeness. He actually favors bluntness, but will be polite if the situation calls for it.

He has three tongues. Yes, he's choked on them before. This mostly happened in the beginning when he was first getting used to his new body.

He doesn't like sweet foods, but certain organs are sweeter to him than others. He can't quite explain that, but he favors certain parts of people over others.

He can eat human food, but it's like junk food for him. He will always need to feast on humans from time to time to keep himself well. Also this is NOT a constant thing with him. He has like a major feeding once or twice a month, and smaller feedings ever 7-10 days. He can get by just fine, he's not always starving.

Most of his work is him just preparing in case he's in a situation he can't hunt.

His body can heal at an accelerated rate!

Because he's possessed by/permanently fused with Chernobog, he has 'starfish' tendencies. Meaning, if he loses a finger, in about 6 months he'll have a new one. Anything bigger might take years but he's never been in a situation where that's needed to happen. This does not mean he's invincible.

Slender Man, who has been around for way longer than any of us can conceive, finds it funny that Chernobog is fused with a socially awkward young man who couldn't even ask a girl out normally and forewent his survival instinct just to hang out with her.

Slender Man, when just with Jack, will speak with him in Polish or older forms of Slavic languages when more directly addressing Chernobog.

Jack is physically HUGE. He's like 6'8, because his merging made him bigger. He was already tall at 5'10, but Chernobog required a bigger vessel. So, he painfully grew bigger. He's quite muscular, not overtly so but you know he has physical strength.

He's,,,,, human-like in appearance. Gives off uncanny valley at times.

He's actually quite funny and does take some joy in making people laugh.

He's not besties with Jeff but they are, more often than not, together doing things.

He actually prefers Jane's company!

It takes so, so long to gain his actual trust. He has varying levels of it, like anyone else, but it's difficult to even breach his first layer.

Has a deep fondness for birds, specifically vultures.

Doesn't like dogs. He has never liked dogs. Smile is his one and only exception. Does like cats.

His body has a stupid tattoo on his thigh he got when drunk one night at uni. He's still mildly embarrassed by it.

He occasionally smokes weed.

He won't admit it, but anyone that looks like Jenny brings back terrible, terrible memories. When he was younger, those types of women used to trigger panic attacks. He's much better now, but seeing women that look like her make him very uncomfortable.

He doesn't enjoy strong smelling perfumes or colognes. He thinks the scents themselves are nice, but they give him migraines. His sense of smell is very strong and well.

He can actually function quite well in normal society, he just doesn't physically fit the image. And even using his glamour-he sticks out from his height alone.

Jack wouldn't say this to anyone, but he sometimes hangs around in his glamour just to remember what he used to look like before. It's not a 100% match, but he sees himself as older. A bit more jaded and weathered. He wonders what would have happened if he listened to his roommate and didn't go.

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack headcanon #creepypasta headcanon #ej creepypasta #creepypasta

95 notes · View notes

vllergy · 17 days

Text

relations & afflictions

random allergy fic, 2.3k, old ocs of mine jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

Something’s been bothering Vesen’s nose ever since they left the warehouse. His insistence on delaying the inevitable is only driving both the offending appendage, and Jin by extension, insane.

There’s a lot Jin has yet to figure out about his alien partner. Human and Kheelen relations are touch and go as it is, and the fact that they’ve paired officers up like this for police work is a shoddy effort at best to keep the peace. There’s just still too much they don’t understand about one another for anything to go smoothly. Case in point—until today, Jin didn’t even know if the Kheelen could sneeze.

It’s not that they look all that different. Bipedal, humanoid, all the same parts and facial features—Kheelen just do everything more elegant and longer it seems like. Even now Vesen has to hunch over slightly to fit all the willowy six foot eight of himself inside Jin’s squad car, and he’s one of the shorter ones of his species. Vesen’s face is similarly angular and lean, almost feline, with deep black eyes and a nose that angles regally off the front of his profile. Jin has always thought the Kheelen look how high fashion used to think supermodels ought to look—distinctly alien, a little off putting, but still undeniably beautiful.

It helps that their skin comes in almost every shade of the rainbow. Vesen’s is a soft lilac, though you wouldn’t catch Jin admitting it. Nor should he even be thinking about how Vesen’s slightly-leaner-than-human nostrils are a little darker purple at the moment as they wriggle and flex with what looks like blatant irritation.

Thankfully, Vesen’s attitude keeps most amorous thoughts of Jin’s to a minimum. The guy’s taciturn, stoic, and doesn’t really give a shit about anyone but himself. He’s got a superiority complex too, but no one at the precinct seems to care. Everyone’s dealing with their own Kheelen partners and the messy diplomatic shitstorms they tend to kick up. It’s just unlucky Jin got the biggest fucking prick of the bunch.

He’s good at what he does though. They call him the Wraith. Jin has never seen anyone move like Vesen does, not even other Kheelen. At the very least, he’s not going to die with him as a partner.

At least, not from phaser fire. He may die from another problem entirely if the guy doesn’t stop sniffling like a leaky faucet next to him for the rest of this ride.

Jin squirms in his seat slightly and tries not to glance at Vesen out of the corner of his eye. Lean, purple forearms are braced against raised knees as the alien sits slightly crunched in the front seat. The seat is pulled all the way back but his legs are so damn long it’s impossible to make him comfortable. Jin thinks about getting the chief to requisition them some new vehicles. This is hardly fair.

Vesen’s dark silk hair is shaved down the sides of his skull and then braided across the top of his head and hung down his back, the braid extending all the way to the bottom of his spine. Self-consciously, Jin runs a hand through his own dark hair. Regulation cut. No frills. Pretty underwhelming all things considered.

His fingers come away dusty when he sets his hand back on the wheel. He frowns at his fingertips, rubbing them together slightly. The warehouse they raided today looked like it had been abandoned for decades. Maybe longer. He’s going to need a full decontamination shower after this—

“h-nNDT!”

His stomach drops. But coolly, he slides his eyes over to his passenger and finds Vesen as relaxed as ever. He’d stifled with barely a sound or movement at all. Only a slight irritated blink gives him away as he recovers

Jin could ignore it, and probably should. But the words are off his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

“I didn’t even know you could sneeze.”

He can feel the simmering fury radiating from the seat beside him as Vesen turns his head. Dark eyes bore into the side of his skull. Jin knows that look without even having to see it—imperious, infuriated.

Then, flatly in the dark baritone he’s come to loathe, Vesen responds, “Why would we not?”

Jin shrugs, “I dunno. Your biology is different from ours in a ton of different ways, I thought maybe you guys just didn’t.”

Vesen sniffs softly. The sound lashes a current of electricity up Jin’s spine.

“That is preposterous.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jin concedes, “You have noses and you breathe air, so it stands to reason.”

“You—hh?” Vesen pauses, gasps and turns his head away, pressing his knuckle to his septum and flinching into another soundless stifle. He recovers with a dry sniffle and swears in his own language. Jin hasn’t picked up the translation just yet, but he understands the intent just fine.

“Bless you,” he says, and feels a certain thrill at saying it. Especially to Vesen, who by all accounts probably is taking this all as a knock to his pride.

As if on cue, the alien gives him a reproachful look. “What?” he snaps.

Jin waves a hand, “It’s a human saying…well, in some regions. When someone sneezes.”

“Foolish.”

“What do the Kheelen say when someone sneezes?”

“Why are you so interested, Jin-young?”

Jin’s cheeks flush slightly. The question is an honest one, but it’s said with just the right amount of judgment that it feels like it’s getting too close to the truth. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders.

“Just making conversation. We’re supposed to be learning about each other, right?”

There’s a long pause. The inside of the car is tense. Finally, Vesen sniffs lightly and sighs.

“We do not say anything. It is not a…common occurrence.”

He says this with a bit of embarrassment, which piques Jin’s interest tenfold. No wonder he hadn’t been sure if the Kheelen even possessed this biological function—he’s worked with enough of them for long enough now he was bound to have seen it happen at least once. But it’s never come up before. Not until this at least.

Trying to keep the angle of the conversation on scholarly curiosity rather than selfish, Jin tilts his head.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Vesen doesn’t answer for a moment, and when Jin looks over he sees why. The alien is caught with his eyes half-lidded, mouth parted slightly, a shuddering breath quaking under his vest. He shakes his head and suddenly bows it, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. A very human pose, Jin thinks, despite only having four fingers on each hand.

“hH’DDIISSShhyue!”

Vesen rises from his hands instantly and doesn’t give Jin time to bless him, or even react, “We are a very hardy species. Unlike humans, it takes a great deal to afflict our sensibilities.”

Just to be a dick, Jin blesses him anyway. Vesen cuts him a watery glare before Jin continues, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, “But…something is clearly uh…afflicting you now, right?”

Vesen sniffs pointedly, “It appears so.”

Jin’s boiling alive under his uniform all of a sudden. He knows he should stop fanning the fire but his mouth is moving faster than his brain, and he can’t help but keep asking questions. The slightly stuffy quality to Vesen’s deep voice as this progresses isn’t helping things either. He white-knuckles the steering wheel.

“I wonder what it is,” he hums, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.” Flat, unmoved, typical Vesen. Jin almost rolls his eyes.

“Then, are you sick?”

“I am not ill.”

“Then I’m at a loss, bud."

“It is not your concern, Jin-young,” Vesen assures him, but in that slightly dismissive way that seems to suggest it never was to begin with.

That might have been it, and for a few moments Jin thinks it’s over. But after a lengthy pause, he hears Vesen take a clipped breath beside him. Then, he lowers his face slowly into his hands once more and Jin tenses, waiting for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the alien’s massive shoulders rising with a swell of breath before—

“hhH-rrSCHH!” Stronger and harsher than the one that came before it. Vesen lifts his head, thinking he’s finished, but is taken by two itchy sounding ones almost immediately after. He doesn’t bother lowering his head again and merely sneezes freely, misting his own palms as he shudders into them. “Chhssyu! ccHSH!”

“Okay, see, it is kind of my concern,” Jin reasons, and leans over to reach past Vesen’s knees for the glove box, “Because you’re my partner and now I’m officially worried.”

Vesen isn’t listening. He’s lost in the throes of whatever it has meant to finally give into this tickle that’s been plaguing him since they left the warehouse. His hands still cupped in front of him, his upper lip curls back slightly as he gears up for another. Jin unlocks the glove box, the back of his hand drifting against Vesen’s knee for a moment.

“Sorry,” he says, his heart pounding.

Vesen responds in kind with a stuttered gasp and another powerful sneeze.

“hH? hhH! ehH’HDJSshoo!”

He wrenches to the side at the last second to try and direct it against the window but Jin still feels the spray of it against his forearm and nearly loses control of the fucking car. He manages to somehow keep them alive and also force a wad of napkins into Vesen’s hands.

“Here, Vesen.”

Vesen gathers the crumpled paper and presses it to his dripping nose. He blows hard—Jin didn’t know they did that either—which seems to help just for a moment.

“I’m gonna get you back to headquarters, okay?” Jin says, trying not to let his voice shake. He’s almost certain Vesen can hear his heart pounding but he’s hoping he’s a little too distracted by the itch to notice.

Vesen nods blearily and gets one liquid sniffle in before something sets him off again. He holds the sodden napkins just slightly away from him and sneezes against them in short bursts. “aeh’ESSCH! chSSCH! t’SHH!”

“Jesus, you gonna make it?” Jin asks. Am I?

“Focus on your driving, Jin-young,” Vesen says evenly and dabs at his nose, “There is no need for alarm.”

Ah, good. So Vesen can hear his heartbeat, but he thinks it’s anxiety, not anything else. Good. Jin can roll with that, at least. Interspecies relations are hard enough without adding weird kinks to the mix.

“Are you sure? Because—“

“hH’RRSsch!”

“You sound like—“

“hHuh’IISH! ISHH! hh-Hh?…”Vesen pauses on the last one, hanging in limbo with his gaze flickering on the horizon. Jin waits for him, watching his throat bob as the urge takes him.

“hhH’yyIISSHAh!”

Vesen cups that one into his palm, though it does nothing to lessen the volume.

Jin swallows, “Wow. Because you sound like you’re getting worse.”

“A passing ihhritation,” Vesen says, somehow managing to sound cold while his voice wavers.

In other words: drop it.

But Jin can already see his face twitching around the need to sneeze again. It’s five more minutes back to the station and god, if he can even get out of his squad car to walk in it’ll be a fucking miracle. Either way, he’s in trouble. They’re supposed to watch out for their Kheelen counterparts in the field. Have each other’s backs. Bringing one back sneezing his goddamn head off seems like the opposite of that.

“Should we open a window?” Jin asks.

Vesen nods through his next sneeze and fumbles for the controls on the side panel as he snaps forward.

“aeh’eESSCHUu!”

Jin gets the controls going on his own side for him and both windows peel open. City air streams through the car. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it’s not terrible either. Jin grew up here so it’s part and parcel of his being. He can’t imaging what it must be like for the Kheelen. Breathing sweet, fresh air every day of their own planet to now…this. Maybe that’s why Vesen in particular is so sensitive. Or maybe he’s overthinking it.

A tired, weak sneeze is directed out towards the open air and into Vesen’s curled fist as the alien leans to the window. “hh’iIShoo!”

“Bless. Any better?” Jin asks.

“It smells of smog and metal,” Vesen complains and slides his finger under his nose, wicking moisture away petulantly.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

They ride the rest of the way in relative quiet, Vesen with his head out the window like a dog and Jin lowering his body temperature to acceptable levels. By the time they get to the precinct he’s actually able to stand up and get out of the squad car and can feel everything below the waist.

Just in time for Vesen to come around the side of the car and pin him by the shoulder. Jin has to look up at him because he’s so tall, and his hand feels like a vice against him. Vesen could snap him like a twig if he wanted. Something he’s fond of reminding him.

“Tell anyone of what transpired here, Jin-young, and you will not live long enough to regret it,” Vesen hisses at him, pointed teeth flashing.

It would be intimidating were it not for the inadvertent sniffle that follows as Vesen backs off. His eyes grow slightly hazy even as they try to bore into Jin’s and his hand loosens on his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon big guy, one more?” Jin asks, eyes flashing.

Fury sparks in Vesen’s face before the need overtakes him entirely. His expression crumples as he releases Jin to cover his nose and mouth with his hand and flinches into it.

“h’NNDXT!”

A full body shudder runs the length of Jin’s body. He can feel his lower belly melting again.

He smiles, “Bless you.”

Vesen growls and shoves at Jin with his opposite hand as he sniffles in recovery. He bares his teeth at him.

“Be quiet,” he says before turning away and heading toward the precinct steps.

“I think we bonded today!” Jin calls after him, “We’re making progress! Pioneers of human and Kheelen relations, you and me!”

#i was trying to link this to the ask and realized i couldn't find it anymore???#idk if i archived it or what and don't remember but its seemingly #vanished so #reposting for prosperity #snz kink #snzfic #my ocs #vesjin #if anyone finds the OG let me know im so confused lmao #ANYWAY THANK U FOR THE BEAUTIFUL ASK IM GOING TO BE RIDING THIS HIGH ALL DAY!!!!!

49 notes · View notes

lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 2 years

Text

Got bit by the fic bug

Beep beep beep beeeeeeeep.

Valerie stared at the device in the Guy in White's hand as it went off, the little blinking light on top flashing wildly.

Another agent dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"You need to come with us."

Valerie stared at him, as the students all around stared at her.

"What?" she didn't understand, why her? She wasn't a ghost, why was it responding to her?

"You're under arrest for suspicion of harbouring a ghost fugitive." the agent pulled out a pair of high tech looking manacles. "We're taking you in for questioning and decontamination."

Valerie smacked his hand off her shoulder and took several frantic steps back.

"I'm not harbouring anything! Your stupid scanner's busted or something."

"Yeah," Nathan spoke up somewhere from the line of students behind her. "She hates ghosts, she wouldn't be helping them."

There was a murmur of agreement among the crowd of teenagers gathered in the school's gym.

"Anyone with high ectoplasmic readings is to be taken in for questioning." the agent grabbed at her again. "No exceptions."

His hand barely brushed her shoulder when she gripped onto his forearm and twisted until his elbow popped. He cried out in pain as he dropped to his knees.

The students went nuts.

People cheered and screamed, hooting and hollering in excitement as Valerie let the agent go and stood back.

The organised lines of students were now a crowd surrounding Valerie, cheering her on. She held her ground as more agents approached.

"You're not taking me anywhere." she said through gritted teeth. "I don't care how many arms I have to break."

True to her word she lashed out at the agents surrounding her, kicking one in the knee and sending him to the ground before swiftly turning on her heel and planting her foot in another man's sternum with a loud CRACK.

Dash and Kwan were jumping up and down, clutching at each other in excitement as Valerie took down another agent.

"GO VAL GO! GO VAL GO!"

The chant picked up and soon enough half the student body were cheering her name.

Mr Lancer struggled through the packed crowd.

"'THE LAST CONTINENT', PEOPLE, THIS IS A SCHOOL ASSEMBLY! NOT A MOSH PIT!"

He stumbled his way to the nearest Guy in White and grabbed him by the lapels.

"This has gone far enough! A mandatory assembly is one thing, but physically attacking my students-"

"Your student is physically attacking my men."

Another agent skidded across the floor past their feet.

"She is clearly dangerous and obviously enhanced by some kind of ghostly contamination. For everyone's safety she must be contained."

Lancer watched as the man pulled an ecto-gun from his jacket and pointed it at the girl.

"No! You can't-" but before he could finish his sentence, someone else had stood directly in front of the barrel.

A concentrated ball of ectoplasm slammed itself into Danny Fenton's stomach and sent him flying backwards, almost crashing into Valerie.

There were more screams than cheers now, those who witnessed the gun go off began backing away from the agent in terror.

"He shot someone!"

"He shot Danny!"

"Fenton's been shot? Fenton's been shot!"

"Is he okay?!"

The circle around Valerie widened as the students fearfully retreated from the scuffle. Danny stood bent over clutching his stomach, Valarie grabbed at him desperately.

"Danny?? Danny are you okay?? Tell me you're okay!"

The agent with the gun looked down at the scanner on his wrist, it was beeping twice as fast as the other agent's device was minutes ago.

"The two of you huh." he murmured. "Guess you're both coming with me."

Valerie tightened her grip on Danny's arm.

"I'm fine Val." he grunted, "Run, hide in the crowd, I'll keep him busy."

No, absolutely not.

When the sound of the gun discharging a second time reached her ears, Valerie didn't even think before shoving Danny to the ground and taking the blast directly to the chest.

Everyone screamed, and then there was an eerie silence as Valerie stood tall, unharmed. Her iconic red armour's breastplate clinging to her form.

Danny looked up at her from the ground, eyes wide in shock.

"Val, you-"

"No time for that." she said as she bent down beside him. "We need to get out of here."

"We?" Danny's question cut off with a strangled squeak as Valerie scooped him up bridal style, the rest of her armour crept over her skin, her helmet closing over her head.

"Hold on tight."

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #dp #fanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfic #valerie gray #red huntress

982 notes · View notes

welldonebeca · 9 months

Text

Glitter and Goo*

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader Warnings: Tension. Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Sex promises. Passionate sex. Breeding kink. Praising kink. Size difference. Cock warming. Fluff. Aftercare. Comfort.