#all he has to do is come near me and I'm practically in fire like..... damn y'all.... this is so new idk what to do

[babyouran]

The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type! - a young boy joins the host club in hopes of learning from the masters to impress a special lady. yet they aren’t ready for all the effort it takes to train such a rowdy young man.

pairing - fem! reader x host club

apart of - ouran add-in

The theme for this special day was Arabian as their clothes were flowing and in gorgeous colors with prized possessions in gold filtered about the room. When a boy in a green uniform opened the door he was shocked at what he was witnessing, the image seeming like something not from their country but a foreign one. He tripped over himself and stared up at the members in astonishment. 

"Welcome to the Ouran Host Club," The club announced, all seated by each other with ripe, delicious fruits peeked in between and extravagant furniture. 

"Oh it's just a kid," Hikaru noticed.

"Not only that, it's just a boy," Kaoru added, clearly the two disappointed. 

"What's wrong little boy? Did you come to my palace in search of something?" Tamaki stuck out his hand with a golden ring and red gem resting in his palm.

"Uh, are you the king of this place?" The boy wondered, standing up from the ground.

"Come closer, lost one," Tamaki motioned for him to come over. "What was it you just called me?"

"The king."

"Ah, the King! Yes, I'm the king of the Ouran Host Club! Long live the host king."

"Oh no," Y/n whispered, looking at Tamaki who practically had stars in his eyes. He was standing up from his throne proudly, standing tall to pretend as if he were on a balcony surveying his kingdom. 

"I'm an elementary fifth year, Takaoji Shiro," He introduced. "I want the Host Club King to take me on as an apprentice!"

Due to a successful flattering, soon enough the elementary school student was taken on as a co-host and offered the opportunity to watch Tamaki in action. 

"Oh my, Tamaki, you have an apprentice?" A black-haired female wondered, sitting beside him.

"Yes, he's still in elementary school but I like the fire in his eyes.”

"But are you sure it's okay for such a young boy to become a host?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Love has nothing to do with age," Tamaki spoke, gently caressing her chin. "Take us for instance, whenever I look at you my heart starts pounding. Suddenly I feel no different than a lovesick little boy."

"Oh-oh Tamaki," The girl stuttered.

"Isn't it a little strange how Shiro-kun is just watching?" Y/n wondered, turning towards Haruhi and Kyoya who were also witnessing the whole scene go down. Shiro was in between Tamaki and his guest, face a little too close up to where Tamaki was touching her face. 

"There is a theory that people are considered more beautiful the closer they are viewed. Tamaki seems to live by that theory," Kyoya told them. Y/n nodded in understanding and walked up closer to Kyoya. She put her face near his, their noses almost touching, before pulling away and sitting back down beside Haruhi. 

He felt his cheeks warm up, "Well, ahem, let's leave them alone," He muttered, moving further away from where Y/n was now sitting.

"You naughty girl, you've drawn me to the forbidden fruit. Dearest you're the mermaid who's brought light into my lonely sea. My mermaid princess," Tamaki flirted.

"I remind you of a mermaid?" The girl asked.

"You look more like the carp that swims in my pond at home," The younger boy insulted. "I'd never give false compliments like that!"

"Carp?"

"Don't listen to him, he's just a kid, you know how kids are. They can't help but be honest," Tamaki tried to reassure her.

"Honest?"

"But that's just his opinion! I wouldn't say you look like a carp, and even if you did look like a carp you'd be the most beautiful carp of them all!" Tamaki spoke frantically.

"So I am a carp!"

"Uh, no that-that's not what I meant," Tamaki stuttered.

"Tamaki you're an idiot!" She cried, running out of the room embarrassed and ashamed.

"No wait! Mermaid princess!"

"Man, what a crybaby," Shiro commented, crossing his legs and arms in disappointment. 

"So how's it going boss, that's an adorable little apprentice you've got there," Hikaru laughed.

"Hikaru, do you wish you had a little brother like Shiro?" Kaoru questioned.

"Don't be silly, I could search the globe and I'd never find a better brother than you, Kaoru," Hikaru expressed, taking his brother into his arms for a tight hug.

"Uh, Hikaru."

"Look! They're doing it! It's forbidden brotherly love," Two girls cooed.

"They're homos! And they're brothers! That makes this totally insectuous!" The boy yelled.

"I think what you mean to say was incestuous," Tamaki corrected.

"Hey Shiro-chan! Want to have a piece of cake with me?" Honey wondered, jumping onto the younger boy's back. "We've got three kinds, chocolate, strawberry, and lime."

"Hey! Back off, what grade are you in any way?” Shiro shook his back in an attempt to get Honey off of him. “Why are you wearing a High school uniform?" Shiro asked staring at Honey with a disgusted face. In response, Honey's eyes started to bubble with tears.

"Something is wrong? Mitsukuni?" Mori queried.

"Honey-senpai, are you alright?" Y/n questioned, walking over to the boy. "I'd love to have cake with you, we can talk while you eat," Y/n nodded, letting the boy grab her hand.

"That's not fair! A little kid like you isn't supposed to have a cool older friend and a hot girl like her!" Shiro complained, walking backward in annoyance until he was stopped due to bumping into Haruhi.

"Are you alright? I know it's kinda hard to get used to all the weirdos around here, besides Y/n. She's very kind," Haruhi looked up at Y/n who was now showing a book to Mori. "It took me a while to get adjusted to all the craziness, so don't freak out. I'm sure you'll get used to it," She tried to reassure him.

"Do you need help with that tea, Haruhi-chan?" Y/n inquired, walking over and grabbing some of the cups.

"Bend down," The elementary boy gestured for Y/n to come down to his height. "What's with the mask?" He moved his hand to hover over her mouth, about to try and snatch the fabric to see what was underneath.

"Okay that's enough," Tamaki grabbed Shrio from the back of his jacket, pulling him away. "Shiro, why don't you take care of the tea set?"

"Y/n, you're looking very nice today," Hikaru commented, patting her head.

"Just give the set to the boy and let him do his training," Kaoru mentioned.

"Okay, just be careful, it's kind of heavy," Y/n told him, handing him the tray that Haruhi was once holding. Shiro quickly dropped it, the glass silverware and cups shattering all over the floor.

"It's not my fault I dropped it, it's her fault because she gave it to you, causing you to give it to me," Shiro said, pointing to Haruhi.

"Wait what?" Haruhi’s eyes went wide, shaking her head and raising her voice at the young boy's accusations.

"Excuse me?" Y/n asked, her opinion on the boy changing vastly. It was clear he was not a well-behaved child, speaking his mind in cases where he should be holding back. 

"That's another one hundred thousand yen Haruhi," Kyoya added.

"What?" She fumed.

"Have that mask girl do it, don't girls love doing that? I'm not here to carry tea sets, I'm here to learn how to make women happy!" He snarled. 

"Repeat that?" Y/n walked over by him, getting pulled back a bit by the twins.

"You won't get anywhere with that attitude. And I am not going to let you disrespect Y/n. So, put this brat in isolation!" Tamaki declared, pointing his finger at the boy.

"You got it, boss!" The twins popped up, fingers in the air, and soon enough a cage was lowered down, trapping Shrio.

"What's going on here?! Why'd you put me in a cage all of a sudden?!" Shiro thundered.

"I don't know if we can do this," Y/n muttered.

"Where did it come from? This is supposed to be a music room, right?" Haruhi's sweat dropped.

"This is no way to treat your loyal apprentice! Now let me out of this cage!" Shiro thudded on the bars. He tried to reach a hand through to reach something or someone, even though nothing was near his grip. 

"Not until you've learned your lesson," Tamaki told him, sipping some tea. "I made you my apprentice because I thought you were serious about becoming a host, but I guess I was wrong."

"I am serious. Totally serious," He argued, not jumping around in the cage as much as he once was.

"Are we going to let him out soon, if word gets out we keep people in cages, our family businesses will be in trouble," Y/n mentioned, looking around to see if anyone else would do something. With no one making the move she just sighed to herself and went over to the couch to read a novel. 

"I want you to teach me how to make a woman happy!" He exclaimed. "I'm going to run out of time. Please, won't you teach me? You're a host because you like girls, you like bringing a smile to a girl's face. That's why you do it, right? Please won't you teach me how to be like you?" Shiro begged. "You're a genius at it, you're the king!"

"Well, you may be a brat, but I admire your desire to become a host, so I'll teach you!" Tamaki decided. "You know Shiro, you and I are so much alike.”

"Here we go," Y/n looked up from her book to see the gleaming Tamaki, his pridefulness returned.

"Then you'll help me become a host that can make any woman happy?" Shiro grinned.

"Of course, making women happy is the sole purpose of being a host," Tamaki explained. "If this is what you really want Shiro, then you'll have to figure out how to use the material you already have.”

"What does that mean?"

"You see, here at the Ouran Host Club, our policy is to use our individual personality traits to meet the needs of our guests," Kyoya began. "For example, there's Tamaki, who is the princely type, strong silent type, boy lolita type, little devil type, cool type, and natural type," Kyoya showed, lastly pointing to Haruhi. "Now we are complete with Y/n, the special, caring type," He finished, the group now standing next to each other.

"Special, caring?" Y/n repeated

"It would seem that right now we have a perfect blend of characteristics, so it's going to be difficult to find a new type for Shiro," Kyoya confessed.

"If you go by his age, he should be the boy Lolita type."

"But Honey-senpai already has that covered," Kaoru told his brother.

"Is he going to replace me?" Honey worried.

"He's more like a tsundere type," Y/n mentioned, moving over by Haruhi.

"Oh, come on, is that all you got?" A voice wondered, soon motor noises were heard and Renge, once again, appeared from the ground.

"What's up with this place, it's supposed to be a music room," Haruhi voiced to Y/n, Y/n just shaking her head.

"Not all rich people's buildings are like this," Y/n commented. "Though at my house, we have a fish tank that comes out of the ground."

"Sorry to interrupt gentleman, but what's with the lackluster character analysis? I must say I'm quite disappointed, I thought I taught you better," She expressed.

"Alright Miss manager, how would you work Shiro into our collection of characters?" Tamaki queried. “He can't be the boy Lolita because Honey's already got that covered."

"You just don't get it, do you? Now listen up, there are plenty of girls out there who have a thing for younger boys or boys with baby faces," Renge told the group. "These girls would be considered Shota fans. Now, Shota can be a fairly broad category so it's important to know that the genre can be broken down into many different smaller sub-categories," She pointed.

"For example, shota fans with an interest in Lolita boys would favor a boy like Haninozuka-senpai," Renge told the boys, most of them listening carefully, Kyoya taking notes and Y/n peaking over to look at his notes. "But this little boy is different. If I had to pick a character for him... Yes! He'd be the naughty boy type without a doubt,"

"So tsundere?" Y/n voiced, looking at her friend who was currently trying to stifle a laugh.

"The naughty type?" Shiro repeated, someone blowing a whistle.

"Now to play up the naughty type, you should wear shorts," Renge bent down, noticing that he was wearing shorts, and she blew the whistle again. "You've got to have bumps and bruises, give him some scars!" She encouraged the twins who were putting bandages and drawing marks on Shiro.

"I don't think that Shiro needs to"

"Run like a spoiled child! Make it reckless!" Renge demanded. "Now I want you to trip and make it big!" Shiro ran and tripped on a rope, landing harshly. "Are you okay little boy? Now give them your catchphrase!"

"No big deal, it was nothing," He responded proudly.

"That was perfect! Absolutely perfect Shiro!" Renge beamed.

"That was outstanding," Tamaki clapped. "I never knew you were such a great coach, Renge."

"I've had enough of you people," Shiro yelled, gaining the attention of everyone. "This is so stupid, none of this is ever gonna help me make her happy.”

"Her?" Y/n pondered, watching the boy run away.

"Wait, Shiro! We haven't taught you how to apply the techniques you've learned yet," Tamaki called out to him.

"I swear younger boys are good for nothing. I went to all that trouble to coach him and he quits," Renge complained, disappearing back into the ground.

"I can't believe he ditched us just because he didn't like the lesson, what a selfish little brat," Tamaki ranted, clearly annoyed at losing his apprentice.

"I don't think he wanted us to assign him a personality. He had said 'she', he wants to impress a specific girl." Y/n tried to reason with the upset Tamaki. 

"Also, didn't you hear him mention that he was going to run out of time," Haruhi added. "What could that mean?"

Soon enough the club came up with a plan. They knew that the young boy needed some help and they were going to be the ones to do it, after all, he needed help impressing a girl and that was the club's specialty. Their genius plan was to send in Y/n and Honey as students at the elementary school in hopes of finding out more about Shiro and the mystery lady.

"I don't get why I'm a part of this," Y/n whispered, pouting underneath her mask.

"It will be okay N/n-chan. It was so easy to sneak in," Honey reassured her, wearing an elementary school uniform himself. "And wearing this uniform, I look like I'm in elementary school."

"Yeah I agree, I get why they wanted you. But I don't get why they needed me, I don't exactly resemble an elementary schooler with my size. Not to forget that I'm wearing a middle school uniform," Y/n looked down at her dress, and moved a hand to feel her braid. Along with the new outfit Y/n also had to put some dark blush on her cheeks, putting it on the parts that could be seen above her mask. "I don't get the point of these disguises."

In front of the two club members, some actual students just peered at them in confusion.

"Oh there's a reason, a damn good one," Tamaki muttered before Honey grabbed onto Y/n’s wrist and helped lead her down the hall. 

"Isn't she the cutest!" The twins adored.

"I don't think Y/n is happy about this," Haruhi commented.

"Look at her in that miniskirt, Y/n looks like a model," Tamaki admired.

"So, basically you just wanted to see her dressed up like that," Kyoya realized, watching Tamaki peek at the two 'undercover' members walking down the hall. Though Honey and Y/n weren’t easily seen since by then they had already made it into the classroom.

"This is it, Shiro-chan's classroom," Honey told her, opening the door.

"Okay, let's try not to cause any more attention than we already have," Y/n told him.

"When I was in elementary school, this was my classroom too!" Honey ran around.

"Wait, there is no one here," Y/n whispered to herself.

"So the kid's classroom is empty, is it?" Tamaki walked in.

"This surely takes me back," The twins reminisced, wandering around the classroom. The club members all walked around, looking around the desks, at the chalkboard, and checking out the bookshelves, they were reminded of their childhoods. 

"I wonder if my doodles are still on my desk," Kaoru wondered.

"Doubtful, the school changes out the desks every year," Kyoya informed them.

"Every year, at our schools they keep the same ones. If we were lucky they would somewhat clean them," Haruhi mentioned, following after them.

"If you guys are just walking in like nothing, what was the point of us wearing these?" Y/n pondered, gesturing down to her uniform in annoyance.

"Don't worry about it," Hikaru voiced.

"There's no one here to catch us," Kaoru reassured her. But as if he had just jinxed everyone, soon enough they could hear the echoing of footsteps in the hall. In the assumption that it was a teacher, they all ducked down under the desks.

"If the teacher finds us," Hikaru began.

"We'll have a hard time explaining how we snuck in," Kaoru finished.

"This is why I told you guys we should wait outside," Haruhi scolded them, while the twins then commented back, now the three first years bickering. 

"Be quiet, we don't want the teacher finding us," Y/n warned them, putting a finger to her lips. They waited a few silent moments before they could recognize that the footsteps had dispersed. Just to be sure, Y/n got up first and checked around before signaling everyone else to come out, "He's gone, but how are we going to find Shiro-kun?" She queried.

"Well, here's something interesting," Kyoya stated, looking at photos. The rest of the members surrounded Kyoya, all filing up beside him to look at what he had found.

"What did you find?" Haruhi questioned and in response, Kyoya pointed to a certain photo. "Hey! That's Shiro."

"So he's into classical music."

"He's also with a girl. Maybe that's the girl he was talking about," Y/n realized, turning around and looking at the group.

"There's Shiro-chan!" Honey pointed out to a classroom near the one they were in. He was seen talking with a girl before she had moved over to a piano bench to start playing. At the notice of another elementary girl from the same class exiting the classroom, Tamaki walked over to her.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," Tamaki started, catching her attention. "I've never seen a rose more lovely than you, my dear. Here, this is for you," He offered up the flower, bowing a little and then shortening his stance so they were more eye level. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that young lady playing the piano. Do you know her?"

"That's Kameeshido, Hina," The little girl told him.

"Her name is Hina?" Tamaki repeated.

"That's right, but you better not fall in love with her."

"Why?"

"Didn't you know? Hina has to move away soon. Her dad just got a new job in Germany, so they have to move there at the end of the week," She told him, waltzing away while smelling the pretty flower. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" Shiro yelled. "I want you idiots to leave immediately!" He rushed over to where the group was, face as red as a beet. But Tamaki made no reaction, just picked up the smaller boy and put him over his shoulder. "Put me down! What are you doing? Ah!" Tamaki made no hesitation in making the way out of the building with the rest of the club following behind, still carrying the flailing boy.

"It's time to go, gentleman, Y/n,” He paused for a few seconds, turning his head around the best he could to peer at Shiro, “Quit thrashing around," Tamaki deadpanned. 

Once they all finally made their way back to Ouran Highschool Tamaki had just plopped the boy onto the sofa.

"What is your problem, you big idiot!" Shiro snapped.

"I'm sorry, but you're the idiot. You said you wanted me to teach you how to make women happy. But that's not it, is it? You're not concerned with the happiness of just any woman. You've got your sights set on one woman in particular. You only care about one, and that's Kamishiro Hina," Tamaki objected. "When you care for someone, you must find the courage to express what is in your heart. You have to tell her how you feel about her."

"It doesn't matter anymore, I've run out of time. I just wanted to hear her play before she left for good, that's all," Shiro expressed, staring at his hands in his lap, refusing to make eye contact with Tamaki. 

"That piece she played, it's Mozart Sonata in D major for two pianos, isn't it?" Tamaki wondered, walking over to a curtain in the corner and pulling it back to show a beautiful, shining piano.

Haruhi turned towards Y/n, "Wait a minute, since when is there a grand piano in here?"

"Well, this is a music room after all," Kaoru told her, shrugging his shoulders.

"So, why wouldn't it have a grand piano?" Hikaru asked her.

"It is a music room," Kyoya asserted.

"It is a music room," Mori repeated.

"It's always been there, we just had it covered up," Honey explained happily bouncing over to where the piano stayed.

"It's such a nice piano too," Y/n admired taking a few steps to the musical instrument herself. She placed a hand on the top, admiring the keys, and before reaching over to play one Tamaki had taken a spot on the bench. He peered up at the girl, a soft smile on his features, and began to play himself. Shiro watched Tamaki in his prime who was playing a mystical piece and taking multiple peaks up to look over at Y/n’s expression.

Whenever there was an ounce of free time Shiro would be right on the bench learning to mimic the rapid finger movements that Tamaki possessed, all working towards completing the goal of expressing himself to Hina.

It didn’t take long, with all the effort and time Tamaki had taken to teach the young boy soon enough he was prepared to play the piece himself. On a special day, the host club invited Hina to come to Music Room 3, dressing up for the young girl in anticipation of the cute moment that awaited.  

"Welcome princess, we've been waiting," They all announced.

"I present to you, Takaoji Shiro’s piano recital," Tamaki introduced. He took Hina’s much smaller arm in his own, joining together at the arm, and pushed out a seat for her to sit near the piano and Shiro.

"Let's play together Hina," Shiro stated, and very happily the girl obliged. She pulled up her chair more to the other piano starting to play while he played his. It was a truly beautiful musical melody, the two kids glancing back at one another while passionately playing the piece. It was a comforting and rewarding scene for the club to witness. Just the two gleeful children indulging in some musical enjoyment.

"We did a good thing," Tamaki observed the two, with a smile on his face. Y/n looked at him, her eyes scrunched up a bit to show she was smiling underneath the mask. It was on this day she got to peak into Tamaki’s interior a bit more, he was a man who had such a large passion for guiding others. 

"You did Tamaki-senpai, you aren't too bad," She laughed as a small blush appeared on his cheeks with a certain admiration sparkling in his eyes. 

A week later Shiro came in to see the host club once again.

"So, you've been exchanging emails with Hina now that she's in Germany?" Haruhi inquired.

"That's great Shiro-kun," Y/n complemented.

"Yeah, I like her but she can get pretty jealous for an elementary school girl. She'd be upset if she knew I was with you ladies, so let's keep this our little secret," He confessed to the girls surrounding him on the couch and nearby chairs. 

"Naughty boys are the best!"

"I could kiss you."

"Ah, you little brat, those are my guests!" Tamaki fumed.

"Well it looks like they have found someone they like better," Shiro voiced. "It was so easy to steal your customers, I think there's a new host king in town."

"I thought he'd make it through without exploding this time," Kaoru and his brother expressed holding down the blonde.

"We should have known he was gonna blow up sooner or later," Hikaru realized.

"I'm going to assume Tamaki-senpai was also a spoiled brat as a child," Y/n declared, making her way over to Kyoya.

"I was not a spoiled brat! I was nothing like him when I was a kid! I was a sweet, innocent, precocious, adorable child," He whined.

"Of course senpai," Y/n voiced sarcastically. "And I was living in a commoner's home growing up," To this comment the twins broke out in loud laughter. 

"Wait what does that mean? Do you not believe me? Wait Y/n!"

next chapter - Jungle Pool SOS!

#ouran koukou host club #ohshc x reader #ouran x reader #ohshc fanfic #ohshc tamaki #ohshc haruhi #ouran hshc #ouran highschool host club #ouran high school host club #ouran host club #tamaki x reader #haruhi x reader #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #kaoru x reader #kyoya x reader #honey x reader #hikaru x reader #haruhi fujioka #mori x reader #ouranhighhostclub

[atlasscrumpit]

Avengers x Reader

(I think I've done one similar to this before?) 

The team had been called outside of the state, they knew shield was on sight already.

So far Tony decided he only needed him and Steve to help out.

While they were flying into the area they saw a large area that was completely burnt out, nearly in a perfect circle.

They landed the jet and stepped out to see Shield set up just outside of the burnt area.

"So, what's going on?" Tony asked as they walked up to Maria.

"Take a look for yourself." She said giving Tony some binoculars.

He looked through them to see a girl in the middle of everything, shivering and completely naked.

"She caused all of this... But, that's why we called you. Even our fire proof and radioactive proof suits won't work, we can't get near her. So, we need you to suit up and try." Maria informed them as they nodded.

"Can do." Tony said, grabbing a blanket and suiting up before slowly stepping into the radioactive area.

He kept moving forward, getting updates from Friday that it was fine to keep moving.

Eventually he made it to the strange figure, you looked up at him.

"I'm hungry." You whispered making him chuckle softly.

"I'm going to help you out of here, okay? Then we can get you some food." He said as you nodded a little, your body far too weak to even stand.

He reached down and covered you with the blanket before picking you up in his arms.

You slowly closed your eyes, your body completely limp against Tony.

"Hang in there, kid." He whispered as he trudged through the burnt wreckage.

He brought you back and people in giant suits rushed in to take you.

"It seems the area is radioactive... But, I don't think she is. At least not at the moment." Tony said, walking back to Maria and Steve.

"We'll take her back to the base, thank you for the help." Maria said as the two men nodded, it had been a pretty easy mission.

"Let us know what happens."

--

You sat in a cell, your knees hugged to your chest as you glanced out through the glass.

Maria walked in and stood in front of you.

"We need to ask you some questions, to see what we're dealing with. I need you to be truthful otherwise we will have to go to other measures for the truth. Is that understood?" She said as you nodded a little and looked at her.

She started off simple like, name, date of birth, place of birth but then she got more personal.

"Why did we find you in the middle of a radioactive field that was littered with dead bodies?" She said as you looked away from her.

"I didn't mean it." You grumbled as she sighed.

"That wasn't the question, was it?" She continued making you groan a little and looked away.

"I need the truth, Y/N." She demanded as you looked at her.

"These men came to my house... They were after my father, he used to be in the military. My brother tried to stop them and they shot him in the head, and then they killed my mother and then my father. They found me hiding and I lost control, everything went black and all I felt was rage. I wanted everyone to burn, I wanted to rip their fucking skulls from their heads." You growled as your body began to give off a small glow.

Suddenly air was let in and it cooled your body down completely.

You groaned and looked at her.

"Thanks... I think."

--

Tony and Steve had visited the Shield base to be updated on your condition.

They walked through the halls of the base with Maria.

"So, it seems she has the ability to go nuclear based on emotions. We've created a cuff on her wrist that helps keep her calm and practically sedated. We think you'll be able to study her a lot better than we can, come up with something to stabilise her without numbing her emotions." Maria said as the two men nodded.

"So, she was the one who killed the entire town?" Steve asked as Maria nodded in response.

"Yes, she killed everyone she ever knew and destroyed her home. But, she didn't mean it. If I know one thing, it's that she definitely didn't mean it." Maria replied before the made it to your cell.

"She's completely sedated right now so it's easier for you guys to take her back to the tower." She continued as Steve made his way into the cell and gently picked you up.

You were completely unconscious in his arms as he walked out with you.

"Does she have any belongings?" Tony asked as Maria handed him a plastic bag with a single open pendant inside.

"This was all the survived on her body. I'm guessing it was a necklace." She said as the nodded.

"Thanks, we'll get her back to the tower."

--

Tony slowly woke you up in a new room they had built for you.

One that could contain you if you had an outburst.

You groaned and slowly sat up and rubbed your face.

"Tony?" You muttered in confusion.

"Hey, kid." He said with a smile.

"You're at the tower now, I know Maria filled you in with what's happening. Do you want me to leave you to rest?" He asked as you nodded.

"Wait... Before you go. I want to ask you something." You whispered as he sat on the side of your bed.

"Ask away, kid." He replied, you looked away from him.

"I don't feel bad... I miss my family, but I don't feel bad about killing anyone. I'm a monster, aren't I?" You whispered as Tony looked at you sadly.

"I don't think you're a monster, Y/N. I think that your mind is trying to deal with all of this. Sometimes our minds can block things out of force us to feel certain things to protect us." He said in response as you nodded a little.

"So... I'm not a terrible person?" You asked, still not looking up at him.

"No, Y/N. You're not a terrible person, you're a survivor."

#Mcu #Marvel #Avengers #Avengers x Reader #Tony stark #Steve Rogers

[miloonepiece]

I have a request/idea for opla!sanji if you'd like :]

Maybe after saving a village on their journeys, a party is held (similar to the one on coco village), and lots of people are dancing, especially in pairs. No one has asked the Reader to dance, which makes them feel a bit self-conscious. Seeing this, however, Sanji knows that can't stand and asks the Reader if they would dance with him. A bit flustered, Reader accepts. Maybe Nami, Usopp, or Zoro could tease Reader about it afterward.

Obviously no pressure if this doesn't strike your fancy, but I thought I'd shoot the idea your way. All the best!

note: this is so cute and I won't lie I struggled a bit to write this, and I'm so sorry I left this on a cliffhanger,, I might do another part if I can think of anything else to write.

Ma Belle

featuring: opla!sanji x gn!reader contents: Anxiety Reference, Made-up lore, Small angst to fluff, Almost kissing, Sanji being a flirt, Slight cliffhanger word count: 1078

Yet another victory for the straw hats, your crew had gathered around a beach nearby and started up a campfire. A few people from the town you had saved were there to celebrate and thank Luffy for protecting them and practically saving them. You stood off to the side and watched as everyone was enjoying themselves. Usopp was near the fire telling several children and a few adults about his adventures, as well as saving a group of people. You let out a small laugh, as the children watched in amazement and disbelief that he was that strong and capable whilst the adults had all their brows furrowed.

You watched as people began to dance along with the soft music that was playing, you smiled for a moment before you glanced around. Everyone was so distracted with their own thing and yet here you were, stood alone. You swallowed suddenly the thought that everyone was whispering and staring at you for being alone filled your thoughts, you harshly looked down hoping to find something more interesting about the ground than what was standing upon it a few feet away from you.

Sanji had finally run out of food to serve and was done for the night, he wiped his hands off on his towel and then placed it off to the side. A few girls came up to him and urged him to dance, he almost gave into their begging before his eyes saw you. A pain ran through his chest as he saw you standing there alone, you looked amazing and he was shocked that no one had come up to ask you to dance. The girls in front of him snapped him away from you but it only made him realize, why wasn’t he asking you?

“Sorry ladies, I've already gotten a dance partner.” He smiled to him a soft smile, hoping they’d give up and walk off. They didn’t so he resorted to simply walking away from them and going towards you, they followed after him spewing out a few more pleas before they spotted you and froze.

Sanji smiled as he approached you and heard the girls’ voice stop almost instantly, his hands kept in his pockets as he finally stood in front of you. “Evening love.” He spoke out, your eyes darting upwards immediately and being met with his ocean-blue eyes. “Oh… Sanji.” You spoke out, you glanced around to see if you had zoned out long enough that everyone was leaving but to your dismay, you saw that everyone was still partying and enjoying their time.

His eyes studied your face, taking in every single feature about you before you connected your eyes back with his. “Why aren’t you out there flirting with another lady?” You ask him, attempting to shove down your thoughts you put a mischievous grin on your lips. He laughed at your comment before he spoke again, “That’s what I’m trying to do right now.” The way he said it so calmly and quickly made your heart flutter, your grin had dropped and your eyebrows raised. “Me? You are trying to flirt with me?” You asked in disbelief.

He smiled at you and nodded, “I mean, I am talking to you, no?” He asked you, his head slightly tilting to the side as he then brought his hand up to hold it out for you to take it. “So will I have the honor?” He straightened his head back up. You swallowed heavily as you stared at him taking a moment to process what he had just asked of you before your eyes slowly moved down to his hand, you felt yourself smile softly. “I think you will.” You say as you place your hand in his looking up to see a small glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

He leads you to the group of people dancing and slowly brings you closer to him, his hand letting go of yours and instantly attaching them to his hips. You felt your heart do a little flutter yet again your eyes struggling to keep eye contact with him, so you kept your eyes stuck on his shoulder. He took notice too this and took a moment before one of his hands lifted to gently redirect your face to look towards him, “Nervous?” He asked you, you swore you could hear a small purr at the end of the word.

You let out a soft laugh as you looked down at your feet, Sanji began to shift the two of you side to side along with the music. You take a moment before you let out a soft sigh, “Just a little…” You take a moment before you blurt out the truth “I never thought I’d be here dancing with you.” You say, then looking up at him to meet your eyes with his. God his eyes were beautiful, you’ve always thought the ocean was beautiful but as you stared into his eyes you couldn’t help but think they were almost… more beautiful.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes and you watched as his eyes slowly moved down to your lips, your stomach began to tighten with anticipation. I wonder if his lips are as soft as they look. You thought as your eyes looked down at his lips, you weren’t sure but you were 50% positive that he had tilted his head and was beginning to lean in closer to you. You found yourself moving closer getting caught in your own thoughts and belief that Sanji would ever want to kiss you.

“[Name]!” You heard your voice being called and you turned your head to look over at Luffy, He ran over excited to show you a new thing he found somewhere off near the water. You immediately scolded him for getting so close to the water without anyone else around, not realizing that you had pulled away from Sanji. Sanji watched you get dragged away from him, he almost kissed you… and of course, the moment had to be ruined. Nami walked over to Sanji and nudged him, “That almost hurt to watch.” She teased him, Sanji looked at her and pouted internally before he found a response “Just, it wasn’t the right time.” He says a small smile on his face, Nami walks away laughing leaving Sanji to pout alone.

#multifandom #writing #fanfic #milometisfics #one piece #sanji x reader #opla sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece x reader

[shirefantasies]

Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #faramir #eomer #haldir #eowyn #arwen #elrond #lindir #ask #anon #requested

[thechaoticdruid]

[Firsts] (1/2)

Pairing: Astarion x Named F!Tav

Plot: Astarion's been acting way too flirty lately. Seriously it was starting to weird Winnie out. She knew the man flirted with pretty much everyone in the group, but lately since she'd given him a taste of her blood it seemed much more targeted at her and very aggressive. Could he actually be attracted to her? Pfft! No way!

Content/Warnings: Sexual themes, sexual humor, light smut, no actual sex yet, making out, dry humping, groping, violence, blood, death, Winnie has very low self esteem, Astarion being a perv, Virgin MC, Astarion bullies Gale, Gale has one sided crush on MC, oblivious MC, Astarion being Astarion, body issues.

Second part: [2/2]

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Things had kinda been weird for Winnie ever since she'd discovered one of her companions was a vampire. Astarion had always been rather flirtatious with the members of their merry band of weirdos, but now it was different. Ever since he'd gotten a taste of her blood his flirtations seem much more targeted towards her. 

Winnie would most often brush them aside. It didn't mean anything after all. Either Astarion was just a naturally flirty person or he wanted to butter her up so she'd be more likely to let him have more of her blood. The female druid was certain these flirtations weren't anything serious. 

Men like Astarion did not pursue women like Winnie. The human female wasn't exactly sure anyone would ever pursue her, but it definitely wouldn't be someone as breathtakingly beautiful as the pale elf. 

Winnie glanced around the blighted village before pushing through the door of an old abandoned house as she began to remember something one of the elder druids in her circle said when she was a child. “She's nothing but a weed amongst the flowers.” The old bitch had said.  Winnie rolled her eyes with a sigh as the others scouted the area.

“This looks like a suitable place to make camp.” Gale stated, looking around.

“It'll serve.” Lae'zel added and dropped her pack on the ground near an old fireplace. 

“It'll be nice to at least have a roof over our heads for once.” Shadowheart chimed in as she walked over and glanced over an arrangement of books that littered one of the walls. 

“Pft, if you can even call it that! This hovel is practically crumbling!” Astarion exclaimed.

“If you'd prefer to sleep elsewhere, be my guest.” Winnie replied before setting her own things down.

Wyll looked over the fireplace and checked around the house for any fire wood, but unfortunately there didn't appear to be any in sight. 

“We might want to go find some wood to build a fire before nightfall.” He suggested.

“I can do that.” Winnie stood up, “I'll see if there's anything else we can scavenge nearby.” 

“I'll go with you. It would only be the gentlemanly thing to do, accompanying a lady.” Gale piped up.

“Yeah sure, come if you want.” Winnie shrugged before turning and leaving the ruined house.

Gale followed after her before the two were also accompanied by Astarion.

“I’m coming too.” He said, sauntering up behind Winnie. 

“I'm surprised Astarion. I didn't think manual labor was your forte, nor yours either Gale.” The druid female hummed.

“Well I'm not about to let you go and do all the work alone!” The wizard added.

“And I never said I was going to help, watch Gale fail miserably to impress you perhaps, but I am certainly not going to risk damaging these nails for firewood.” Astarion sassed looking over his pointed vampire spawn claws with a pout.

Winnie rolled her eyes, ”good gods, might as well have let me go alone.” The druid female muttered, walking off ahead of the two men. Her eyes scanned the blighted village. The place was crawling with goblins and even though they let the party pass through on the count of them being ‘True Souls’ Winnie wasn't very convinced that they would be friendly enough to offer her group supplies. 

Her and the boys continued to search about, Astarion seeming all too pleased to give Gale a hard time today. Eventually after passing a large gate and strolling towards the edge of the ruined village the three adventures came across a shed.

Winnie stepped towards it, immediately coming to a halt as she began to hear low grunts and moans coming from the other side of the door.

“Oh dear….” Gale exclaimed, a look of horror adorning his bearded face.

“Do I even want to know…?” Winnie turned pale with disgust.

“I do! Sounds absolutely disgusting heh heh heh..”Astarion chuckled with a mischievous glint in his crimson red eyes. 

“You want to take a peek be my guest, but don't expect me to rush in after you.” Winnie rolled her eyes looking back at Astarion. 

“And here I thought you'd be interested in joining the fun, darling.” Astarion gave Winnie a wink before swinging the door open, a giddy shit eating grin spreading across the pale elf's face. 

“Oh gods….” Winnie gasped as she and Gale looked forward seeing a bugbear and a lady ogre in the ahem doggy style position. The two humans' faces were filled with horror and disgust while Astarion still had that same stupid grin on his face.

“WHAT THE HELLS ARE YOU DOING!?” The bugbear screamed as he pulled away from his lover. 

“Uh…. I'm very sorry! W-We were just leaving!” Winnie said nervously, face turning red in embarrassment.

“You two make a lovely couple by the way!” Gale said, trying to deflect any tension, but the two lovers did not seem to appreciate the compliment.

“Kinky.” Astarion clicked his tongue with a smirk. 

“MOMENT RUINED! I SMASH YOU!” The ogre suddenly pulled out a huge club and slammed it down right in Winnie's direction. Luckily the druid was able to leap back just in the nick of time. 

The bugbear began to charge in her direction only to receive an arrow to his shoulder, swiftly shot by Astarion who’d quickly climbed atop some nearby crates.  Winnie quickly unsheathed her scimitars from her back, rushing the bugbear and slashing him across the chest.  The she-ogre growled and took another swing at Winnie, prompting Gale to cast magic missile hitting both the ogre and bugbear. 

The bugbear let out a loud scream of pain before dropping down onto the ground.

“NO GRUKKOH!!!” The ogre shouted, tears welling up in her eyes before she glared at Gale with pure hate and rage. “YOU WILL DIE!!!!” 

Quickly before she can move to smite Gale with her club Astarion is quick to notch an arrow and fire it, hitting the ogre right in the left eye. Gale hits her with a bolt of lightning before Winnie makes a dash to run behind her. She then turns and uses her druidic magic to summon a vine from her hand and lasso the ogre’s leg, yanking on it hard. The beastly female tumbled back letting out a cry as she fell to the ground. 

Winnie then took the opportunity to leap up on top of her and slam her scimitars right down into the ogre’s chest, piercing her heart. Blood splattered upon the druid as she pulled her blades out of the she-beast’s chest, getting on her face and shoulders. She panted and hopped down off the large corpse. Astarion's ears turned a bit pink as he glanced over at the blood drenched female.  Honestly he had to admit…..That was kind of hot…

“A pity we had to put an end to the two lovers.” Gale spoke up.

“Better them than me.” Winnie said wiping a bit of blood off her face.

“Darling, hold on a moment. Allow me to help.” Astarion said, quickly rushing over to where the human female stood. Her strange fushia colored eyes looked back at him with curiosity. The vampire ran his thumb over her cheek, collecting a bit of blood before all too eagerly sucking it off his digit. His thumb pulled out of his mouth with a wet pop. “That was a very….enticing display you know?~” He purred seductively in her ear just quiet enough for Gale not to hear. 

“Uh…Thanks…” Winnie looked off to the side checks turning bright red. 

“Ahem! Well shouldn't we return to work? The sun’s nearly gone and we have yet to find some firewood!” Gale piped up, trying to change the subject before stepping in between the rogue and druid.

“Actually darling, I think our dear druid should probably take a rest. She did most of the fighting after all.” Astarion put his hand on Gale’s shoulder.  “And offering to get the firewood for her would definitely be the gentlemanly thing to do.” 

“You're not going to offer to help me are you?” Gale rose an eyebrow.

“Oh gods no! My dear wizard, you can't expect me to leave this sweet little thing all by herself?” Astarion said before moving piece of Winnie’s messy brown locks out of her face.

“I'm perfectly fine guys….I can actually just go get the wood by myself….” Winnie said feeling Astarion's hungry eyes leering at her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Why was he being so aggressive with his flirting today?

Winnie wasn't exactly too worn out, but at the same time she really didn't feel like feeding this overgrown mosquito tonight. Partially because she had been getting devoured by actual mosquitoes left and right since they’d wondering the wilderness. 

“I'm not sure if it's wise to leave a lamb alone with a wolf.” Gale gave Astarion a suspicious glare. 

“Hey! If anyone’s a wolf it's me!” Winnie pouted and crossed her arms. She was rather offended Gale didn't seem to acknowledge her most used wildshape.

“A wolf and a panther then.” Gale said.

“How dare you! I would never lay a finger on our darling leader!” Astarion crossed his arms.

“Okay, I think we've wasted enough time already.” Winnie said before wild-shaping into a black bear and wandering off to collect the wood herself.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~• 

Later that evening after Winnie had brought back the firewood she shifted back into her human form and hid herself away from the others, making herself comfortable in what was left of the ruined house’s bedroom.  She glanced up at the mirror beside her, studying her face. Dark circles colored underneath her eyes, left by sleepless nights. Messy brown locks that never behaved no matter what she did.  A scarred lip from her first real battle. And her body oh how she despised it. It was far too plump for her tastes.

"Nothing but a weed amongst the flowers."

“Why would anyone ever fall in love with you? You're disgusting!”

“Just as fat as a deep rothé and twice as ugly!”

“She's definitely gonna die alone.”

Winnie’s brows knitted together before she stood up and slammed the mirror into the wall, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. She breathed in and out, taking a moment to process what she had just done. The young druid honestly had no idea what had come over her. Why were these tormentful thoughts all coming back now?

Surely there were better things to be thinking about!? The disgusting parasite in her brain for one! She needed to get it together, or risk turning into something much more grotesque.

Winnie needed to get some air. She left the house through the back entrance and stepped off into the nearby forest, breathing in and out slowly. She closed her eyes and just took a moment to listen to all the soothing sounds of nature. Frogs croaking, crickets chirping, an owl hooting above the trees and footsteps…

Wait, footsteps!?

Winnie quickly turned around, her hand reaching into her pack for a blade when she noticed a familiar pair of red eyes looking back at her.

“I was hoping I'd finally be able to get you alone.~” 

“Astarion? Look, I'm really not in the mood to give you blood tonight. Maybe tomorrow?” Winnie sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, I'm not here for that darling. I'm here for you.” Astarion approached, eyes looking her up and down as his perfect pretty lips formed a painfully fake looking smile.

“You need my help with something?” Winnie tilted her head in confusion.

“In a manner of speaking. I've grown rather attached to you if I'm honest.” Astarion placed a hand on his hip.

“Ah, well that's sweet of you to say. I'm really glad to have made some friends on this journey.” Winnie said with a smile. 

“Oh my sweet. I'm not talking about friendship. I'm talking about desire.~” Astarion leaned a bit closer. His breath hit Winnie’s face as he slightly towered over the short female.

“I…. Don't follow….” Winnie said awkwardly. Astarion blinked and then proceeded to pinch the bride of his nose.

“Oh for gods sake. SEX. Darling, I'm talking about sex.” Astarion said with annoyance, crossing his arms. Winnie’s face turned bright red as he finally spelled it out.  It finally explained why he seemed so aggressive with his flirting lately. But at the same time Winnie just couldn't believe Astarion was actually making a pass at her. Her of all people!

“You're joking, right?” Winnie chuckled nervously.

“Why would I be?” Astarion gave her a confused look.

“Wouldn't you rather spend a night with one of the others? Lae'zel or Shadowheart? Or maybe even Wyll?” Winnie asked.

“Ha! Please. As if I'd waste my time with one of them! I have standards, dear.” Astarion said sassily.

“I'm just…You have seen me right?” Winnie said, looking away shyly. Astarion couldn't help but frown for a moment. Winnie seemed very....well insecure. It was clear she didn't seem to believe he could in any way find her attractive. He was however quick to resume his flirty persona.

“Indeed, I have and I find you to be rather delectable looking.~” 

“Yeah, yeah stop messing with me, okay. It's not funny.” Winnie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. Astarion internally panicked. Fuck. He couldn't let her leave. It would completely ruin his plans! 

“I'm not! I crave you!” Astarion quickly grabbed hold of her and pinned her to a tree. Winnie let out a grunt before looking up and blushing darkly.

“I want to feel you squirm under me.~” He said huskily. Winnie was at a complete loss for words. What the hells was she even supposed to fucking say to that!? Her heart was pounding so fast and she honestly felt like if he said one more word she'd faint right there. “And I know you want me too.~ I've seen how you look at me. How your heart races when I'm near. And don't think I haven't noticed the little lustful glances you give my backside you naughty thing!~”

“I-I-I…OKAY YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT!” Winnie said, and pushed against him, making him back up.  She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take before she suddenly melted into a puddle. Winnie was not used to this kind of attention at all. “Sorry I just…I'm not used to this…” Winnie said, a bit embarrassed, “feel like I'm going to explode…Heheh…”

“Cute.” Astarion smirked at Winnie’s nervousness.

“I've never been with anyone if I'm honest….Hells I’ve never even been kissed.” Winnie looked down, honestly feeling rather ashamed.

Oh gods, why did you say that!? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! 

Astarion then gently took her hand, “I would be happy to teach you.” He said before planting a soft kiss on her hand. Winnie took a deep breath, nervousness filled her belly. She looked into his eyes and nodded, “okay.” 

Astarion cupped her cheek, his crimson red eyes staring into her pink ones as he rubbed a cold thumb over her cheek.  Winnie closed her eyes and puckered her lips, slowly anticipating for him to make the next move.  She felt his breath hit her face before his soft lips met her own. At first it was sweet and innocent, nothing but a chaste little peck. But then he pushed her back up against the tree and pressed his body against hers. Winnie gasped feeling Astarion grind himself against her, allowing him to snake his tongue into her mouth deeping their kiss. His free hand reached down to cup one of her ass cheeks, giving it a firm squeeze through her pants. 

“Mmmm!” Winnie moaned into his mouth, her arms slowly finding their way around his neck as she squirmed. She could feel a hard growing bulge prod her core as he pushed his hips against her own. His tongue swirled around her own, exploring and dominating her mouth, but eventually she was forced to pull back for air.  A string of saliva connected their mouths as they pulled back. Winnie panted, staring back at the vampire who was seductively licking his lips. One of his hands was still groping her ass. 

“A-Ah!~” The brunette haired druid let out a whimper as the elf pressed his clothed cock into her. 

“You make such adorable sounds, darling.” He purred before planting another kiss on her lips. Winnie quickly returned it before Astarion began to move down her jaw, trailing kisses lower. 

His tongue lapped over her neck before he quickly began to suck on the delicate skin eagerly.

He kept one hand on her ass while the other reached up to undo her the buttons of her shirt.

Winnie bit her lip as she felt the cool air hit her breasts, her nipples hardening quick.  

Astarion smirked, his eyes hungrily eyeing her well endowed assets. Who knew she could fit something so big under her shirt? If he'd known they were this large he'd have bedded her sooner. Astarion licked his lips before leaning in to plant a kiss on top of one of her breasts. Unfortunately before his mouth could make contact with her skin he ended up being rudely interrupted. 

“There you two are-” Gale's voice trailed off, his face turned bright red.

“Is everything okay….Oh….” Wyll’s eyes widened as he peaked out from behind Gale.

“What is it? Did something happen!? Oh well that's interesting…” Shadowheart said, appearing behind Wyll. 

“Chk! As expected. It was only a matter of time.” Lae'zel seemed completely unfazed as she stood beside Shadowheart.

“Ooh Winnie! Get it!” Karlach cheered, jumping out from behind the others, tail wagging with excitement.

“Do you fucking mind!?” Astarion hissed and pulled back, glaring at the others as Winnie quickly turned away and buttoned up her shirt.  This was so fucking embarrassing! Her pink eyes quickly scanned the area for a hole to crawl inside.

“And here I was worried you were planning on eating our dear friend. Although I suppose I'm technically not wrong….” Gale hummed.

To be continued………

Note From TheChaoticDruid: Just gonna say, the last part was inspired by an infamous Dragon Age Inquisition scene. XD And I was going to try to fit both parts into one, but it just got so long that I decided to cut it in half.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion my beloved #astarion x reader #astarion romance #bg3 tav #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x mc #astarion x female reader #astarion x female oc #druid tav #astarion x human tav #human tav #astarion x chubby reader #chubby tav #named tav

[ddejavvu]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on bradley bradshaw in which y/n is a girl in her early/mid 20's who's maverick's daughter and her and bradley are secretly dating. one day mav finds something belonging to rooster in her bedroom and realises what her daughter has been up to, but isn't pleased at all.

thanks x

Bradley's aviators are the last thing Pete wants to find when he washes your sheets. You've insisted a thousand times that you're a big girl now, you don't need your dad to do your laundry for you, but he likes it. He likes taking care of you, even if he doesn't need to.

He doesn't like it now, though. Not when he spies a pair of muted sunglasses, a familiar chip in their bridge. He'd made that chip, more years ago than he's come to terms with, when he'd elbowed Goose and sent the man ramming face-first into a pole. Knowing who they belong to now unsettles him greatly, because they should not have been anywhere near your bed.

He pockets them, refraining from the urge to crush them just for the memories they hold.

Bradley stops by twenty minutes later, before Pete's had enough time to process what he's assuming is the situation. He's fuming, not only that his baby is having sex, but that she's having sex with Bradley.

"Hey, Mav." Bradley nods to the man, and Pete reconsiders the key he's given to Bradley for emergencies, seeing as he's been waltzing in to canoodle with his daughter.

"Hello, Bradley." His tone is icy, but Bradley's used to Pete having bad days sometimes. It's practically part of the job description.

Bradley pokes his head into the kitchen, then the bathroom, before finally exploring the living room where Maverick sits.

"I can't find my glasses," He offers up an explanation where it isn't requested, desperate to make conversation instead of suffering in silence, "I just don't know where I left 'em, they're not in my car, they're not in my apartment, they're- they're in your hands..." Bradley frowns at the aviators he can see in Maverick's grip, "Where were they?"

Maverick doesn't bother looking at him, glaring at the glasses instead, "In my daughter's bed."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit? Oh, shit? Yeah, 'oh shit'! Bradley, how could you?" Pete shoots out of his seat, fist squeezing around the glasses, "I've spent her entire life telling her not to get involved with pilots, warning her off from men I know spend their time in testosterone-filled locker rooms of pure filth, who see women at bars like conquests, who get so crazed on deployment that they'll fuck anything in a skirt. Because I was that pilot, Bradley. She deserves better than someone like me, and I'm trying to make sure she gest that! And you know that, you were her bodyguard at bars! You were supposed to help me protect her, how long have you been going behind my back like this? When I trusted you?"

"Mav, slow down," Bradley keeps his voice calm, "I know a lot of pilots are like that, okay? Trust me I know, I work with Hangman. But that's fucked up, and I know that. You think I cheer him on in the locker room? You think I bet him he can't bone a lady in the bathroom? He's gross, and that's not how I act. You know that, I know you do. I know you know I care about her. And I don't blame you for being scared, but you're not gonna chase me away. That's- that's because I care about her. I care about her, so I'm not gonna leave just 'cause you tell me to. You can be mad all you want, but I'm not gonna dump her for it."

"How long?" Maverick repeats, face flushed in anger, "I said, how long?"

"Eight months." Bradley admits, voice strong. "It's been long enough to know I care about her. And I- I love her."

Pete's eyes flutter shut, then squeeze. He looks like he's in physical pain, and he's barely able to stop himself from crushing the glasses. Bradley doesn't dare speak, doesn't add fuel to whatever fire is burning in Pete's chest. He just stands there, strong and silent.

"I'm not happy about this." Pete finally grunts, keeping his eyes shut as he shoves his fist forwards, jamming the aviators into Bradley's chest. The younger pilot catches them, tucking them into the front of his shirt before Mav can change his mind and stomp on them.

"I'm sorry. I hope you see things differently when you see us together. All you know now is the, uh, undesirable stuff. But I treat her well."

"You'd better." Pete threatens, his voice barely above a whisper, "Go home. When I open my eyes I don't want to see you here. And no sneaking in tonight, or- or ever again. I'm installing cameras."

"Deal," Bradley promises, already on his way to the door in case Pete changes his mind and charges, "And- um, is it alright if I take her to dinner tonight?"

"Only if you take her somewhere nice," Pete decides, "And have her home by nine."

"Yes, sir."

When the door shuts behind Bradley, Pete lets out a monumental sigh. He feels like his lungs collapse with the breath, and all he can do is pray that you're actually treated to dinner, and that you two don't sneak off to some motel somewhere to pass the time.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader fanfiction #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw drabble #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster oneshot #rooster fluff #rooster blurb #rooster drabble #rooster fanfiction #rooster x reader fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff

[madman479r]

It was a bright and sunny day at Beacon Academy, today all the students had the day off. A time for the students to relax and recuperate from gruelling lessons of Beacon.

A day Ruby fully intended to take advantage of.

She stood atop a chair as she looked down at the small gathering within team RWBY’s dorm.

"Alright, everyone! Today we are free from boring classes and can do whatever we want..." Ruby began her speech.

"Within the law, of course." Weiss interject.

"Right, right. Do whatever we want within the law and I have the whole day planned for us all!" Ruby shouted out near the end with a fist raised into the air.

Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you for also inviting us, Ruby."

"Of course! Team RWBY and JNPR are practically one big team!" Ruby beamed back.

"So, sis. What's the plan for today?" Yang asked with a hand on her hip.

"I'm glad you asked." Ruby opened up her binder, her own one. Weiss had gotten annoyed with Ruby constantly stealing borrowing hers and bought one for the scythe wielder. "I was thinking we head down town and see what it has to offer. I was gonna head the weapons store first for some ammo and see if they have anything I can use to upgrade crescent rose. Next I figured we could..."

As Ruby continued to give out her plan, Jaune felt his scroll buzz and casually opened the device to see he had a new message. He didn't read the name of the sender before he opened said message but once he saw if, he had a good idea who it was and a large blush on his face.

Jaune quickly hid the scroll to his chest and looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully everyone was focused on Ruby so nobody saw him.

Jaune took another peak at his scroll and bit his lip, feeling his blood rush to the surface of his face and to his lower regions.

"... So? We all in agreement?" Ruby's voice broke Jaune from his trance.

"Yeah, sounds fun." Yang said.

"You had me at bookstore." Blake gave a rare smile with Ren humming in agreement.

"You had ME at arcade!" Nora said energetically.

"I do need to resupply my dust." Weiss nodded.

"It sounds grand." Pyrrha beamed.

Jaune hissed in dismay, which made all eyes turn to him. "Oh, uh... sorry, Rubes, but I can't come with." Jaune smiled apologetically.

Ruby and Pyrrha looked saddened by this. "Awwww! What?! Why?!" She exclaimed.

Pyrrha frowned. "I was looking forward to going to the comic store with you." She had never read comics before she met Jaune and found herself liking them. She especially liked reading them with Jaune.

Jaune winced, feeling incrediblely guilty. "Uh... You see... somethings come up, all of a sudden. And I'm needed." Jaune tried to explain as he got up from his chair and started for the door.

"But, Jaune." Ruby whined.

Jaune was halfway out the door as he addressed his fellow leader. "I'm sorry but I can't ignore it. Look, next week I promise I'll do whatever you want." He smiled.

Ruby slumped with a kicked puppy expression. "...Promise?" She meekly asked.

The sight was like a sword to Jaune’s heart. "An Arc never goes back on their word." He reminded her.

Ruby sighed but conceded. "Okay."

Jaune gave another apologetic smiled before he exited the room.

Jaune hurried down the halls of Beacon as he made his way to his destination.

His destination? Miss Goodwitch's office.

As he sped walked towards his professor's office, Jaune couldn't help but take a peak at the message he received, which only fuelled the fire within his belly.

Jaune bit his lip again, subconsciously imagining his own lip to be Glynda's perky nipple and gulped down a growl of want. He never imagined the strict combat teacher/head mistress would have this side to her, much less be the one to see and experience it.

But he wasn't complaining.

#rwby #jaune arc #glynda goodwitch #jaune x glynda #jaune arc x glynda goodwitch #arcwitch #rwby arcwitch #rwby arcwitch (jaune x Glynda) #rwby arcwitch (jaune arc x Glynda Goodwitch) #sorcerous-knight #sorcerous knight #not sfw #non sfw #nsft

[sprout-fics]

Stitches (Part One)

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Three of Snowblind

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 6.1k Tags: Slow Burn, Heavy Angst, Trauma, Found Family, Taskforce 141, Team Dynamics, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Self Esteem Issues, Referenced Familial abuse, Hospitalization, Self Sabotage Warnings: Explicit Injury mention, Forced sedation A/N: The needed, heavy, heavy chapter for Fix. Please head the warnings and read carefully, and practice self care if you need to

The first time you need heli-evac, it's in Venezuela.

Tracking down a cartel supplier to AQ forces, Laswell tells you. International arms dealers. The mission is off the books, quiet. Clean house, harvest intel. Price and Gaz could have cleared it easily, but for some reason Laswell mandated the full task force. Something about the intel not adding up, too many loose ends. You know better than to question her, all of you do.

Unfortunately for you, Laswell's prophecy comes true.

You see the rug on the floor shift a moment too late. The trapdoor flies open out of the corner of your eyes as you spin, and there's yelling in Spanish just a split second before the bullet rips through your side. You fall backwards just in time to avoid the next hail of fire, and the motion throws off the aim of the attack long enough for you to squeeze off a round, the cartel member's figure jerking grotesquely as your aim rings true.

There's voices then, as your head falls back against the floor, cursing blindly at the pain. You'd been shot before, but this, the bullet inside you feeling for all the world like it was trying to twist inside you further, deeper, makes your voice crack hard and dry in your throat. There's iron in your lungs, breathed in with every staggered inhale, lancets of agony etched across your torso and spine. Something inside you feels wet and warm and abstractly wrong.

You press a hand to the center of the pain, and when it comes away red there's a cognizant dissonance to it, a small 'oh' that manages to filter through your thoughts as the stain blossoms scarlet against your side. It's the sight that manages to make the world begin to spin, hazy and unfocused even as there's shouts and it's Gaz's face that flickers into view, trembling like the hazy after effect of a poorly animated CGI movie.

He's talking, but with the blood rushing in your ears you barely hear him, blinking and trying to clear the strange filter that obscures the pure look of fear in his eyes.

"Stay with me, Fix. Gonna get you out of here."

You nod, and it's all you can really manage, heart pounding relentlessly, pain bubbling up your throat in a choked, pleading cry that has Gaz's face grow ashen with concern.

It's Price, then, who shoves the sergeant aside, and even in your dissociative, blank-minded state you see the tremble of his hands as he fumbles for the med pack strapped to your kit.

Oh. You think a bit groggily, blinking as you remember. I'm the medic.

That's probably bad.

There's no time to process it further, because suddenly Price is pressing down on your side and you yell, try and flail away from the pain. Gaz has to hold you down, face pinching with something that tears further at you, an emotion that feels far too concerned for what you're feeling. There's a distant part of your mind that runs through the possibilities, of the bullet lodged up against your diaphragm, through your spleen, or possibly even your lungs. You can breathe, you can kick your legs, but the dizzying rate of the spinning world around you does not bode well for your near and distant future.

"...x...h-ey...Fix! Keep your eyes on me, mate."

You try to, from behind the veil of tears that clouds your vision as the hurt coats the underside of your tongue in an open, confused whimper. Price is yelling something you can't quite make out, and there's a tone to his voice you've never heard before. It cracks and makes you blink, forces you to try and raise your head at him, only to have Kyle's gentle, gloved hand resting you back down against the floorboards.

When you try to breathe you choke, feeling your chest compress down painfully. The air in your lungs stales, and with a wheeze you grasp blindly at Kyle, feeling panic race potent and toxic through your veins. You catch his eyes then, and the worry there has now transformed into something all consuming. Terror.

He snaps at Price, and though you can't hear the words you hear the tremble in his voice, and you realize at that moment just how terrible things must be, because suddenly Price is cutting the straps of your tac vest and shoving it rudely aside, ripping your jacket and shirt and placing an ear to your chest.

He pales.

It's that bad. Something in your thoughts whispers, and then, in a sudden, macabre burst of clarity. Try to say goodbye.

When you fumble for Price, however, he only snaps at you, tells you to stay still and stay awake. You try, you do, but the world is too bright, oversaturated, spinning like the lights of the county fair rides you saw once as a child from the window of a car. Fluorescent, vibrant, dizzying and enchanting. Glittering in the distance from beneath the grey haze of incoming mid-season thunderstorms. Now it's tinted with a putrid, vile taste of metal and bile and a sudden wave of nausea washes over you, as the skies grow green in your memory. You close your eyes against it, trying to find ground on which to retreat where there is none. Price says something about a helicopter, and whether it's moments or minutes later you feel the dull whump whump whump in the distance, beating the air around you slower than your stuttering heart rate.

Who's arms hoist you up, you aren't sure, but you can smell the scent of them. Charcoal. Gun oil. Sweat. Musk. It's familiar somehow, but it isn't until you see your blood seeping red over white skeletal gloves that you understand.

It's the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

---

You wake about eighteen hours later, and the first word out of your mouth startles Soap so much beside you he barks a laugh.

"Your mother teach you to curse like that?" He asks, but mercifully dims the overhead light when you whine at him. You ignore the fact that your mother would turn you over to your father if you ever spoke like that, deciding that such a tiny detail isn't really worth the time it would take to convey it to the Scot.

When you turn to him, Soap's brow is furrowed in a way you don't recognize. He sits in a chair at your bedside, hands clasped, shoulders hunched forwards, leg bouncing and fidgety. Wound too tight. Anxious. His blue grey eyes are drawn with concern, brow furrowed. He doesn't look at you.

"Scared us stiff, hen." He murmurs low, enough that you have to strain to hear it. "Nearly kicked the bucket- Christ on a cross, Fix. There was so much blood."

You don't reply. There's not much to say, really. You messed up, forgot to check a corner like a goddamn rookie, nearly bled out a result but you're here. Alive, mostly whole...minus the hole.

You tell him as much, but when Soap laughs it's a little mirthless, his head shaking as if he's deciding between disbelief or a reprimand.

It isn't long before Price appears, leaning on the door with a weary smile that betrays his concern. You wonder if he's slept recently, or if he's subsisting only on cigars and a gluttonous dose of black coffee. Cognac, if he found it.

The captain gives you the rundown of your injury. Gunshot to the left side of your ribs, nothing short of a bloody miracle it missed your major arteries. However, it managed to puncture your lung, collapsing it and forcing you to briefly asphyxiate on the helicopter. You were unconscious by the time you were handed off to the med-evac crew, flagging by the time you got to the hospital. Had there been a chopper unavailable, and had it not been for Gaz's quick attention to your labored breathing, it very well could have been your death would have been in a sticky, spider infested cartel hideout, far, far away from home.

That fact makes you feel your heart drop down to your stomach, and Soap sends the captain a look. Yet Price's eyes remain locked on you, arms crossed, head slightly bowed, gauging your reaction. He's waiting for you to say you want out, for you to quit, to go home.

Home, wherever that may be, to the waspish gaze of your father and the sad, docile eyes of your mother. To linen sheets and pristine, white French doors, a garden where you aren't allowed to dig your hands into the soil.

You refuse. You don't speak to Price, returning his gaze with your own. Silent, unwavering, a bough not bending to the howling gale of your thoughts.

He nods to himself, then nods to the nurse hovering by the door, and promptly vanishes.

Gaz comes to visit you, and in the days that pass between him and Soap you are hardly ever lonely. They brings cards, games, sneak you snacks past the nurses. Slowly, their laughter and banter eases the unspokenness between you, the 'What if?' that hangs as a constant reminder in the shape of your bandages. Yet you see it in their eyes, the way they glance at you when wince after laughing too hard, when your eyes grow distant in the silence.

Price floats by, brings with him a thermos of hot tea. It's unlike him, and when you question him on it he merely shrugs, tells you to drink up. Yorkshire gold, you recognize. The same kind you mother liked, with her British sensibilities.

You try to ignore the bitter ache of disappointment that settles inside you when Ghost doesn't visit, acrid like over-steeped tea.

It's on Price's third visit that he tells you you're cleared to head back to base with them. After that, however, you have a mandatory six week leave to fully recover.

It sinks your stomach.

Six weeks. Six weeks they'll be deployed without you, six weeks you'll be trapped at base, not knowing the details of their missions, not knowing if it's at that very moment that they need you. All because you got caught off-guard, because you didn't check your corners and nearly bled out in from of your team.

You swallow hard at the news, but know any protest on your part is futile. Price's orders, as per the doctor's, are absolute.

The next day, you find yourself being assisted down to the tarmac, Soap present at your side and offering little jabs that mask his worry. Price deposits your pack beside his, between the three others. You blink then, see in one of them the thermos he brought you, and wonder why it isn't stored with his own things.

Ghost watches you from where he sits, locks eyes with you when you glance from the thermos to his silent, piercing stare.

Ah.

Yorkshire Gold.

You settle in one of the seats, wave off Gaz's fussing as he checks with your pain. You'd been dosed shortly before the flight, and by the time the plane is in the air you find yourself drifting off to sleep, slouching uncomfortably as drowsiness takes you.

Strangely, when you wake shortly before your landing about eight hours later, it's not your seat you find yourself in. Instead, you lay on the floor of the cargo hold, head braced by a folded jacket. You can smell the scent on it. Charcoal. Musk. Gun oil. You have just enough time to turn and bury your face into it before Soap is shaking you awake and helping you back to your seat.

No sooner have you landed are you rushed off to medical once more, checking your stitches, rebandaging the gash in your side. The doctor frowns when he examines you, pushing his glasses up his nose and commenting within ear range of your captain to not undertake any strenuous activity, that you may require eight weeks instead of the six you've been issued with.

Eight weeks. Fifty six days. Two months without your team.

Stuck alone on base, in the dim light of your room, praying that somehow they return whole, unharmed.

Price must sense your thoughts, for he lays a heavy hand on your shoulder, offers you a conciliatory smile that you feel only deepen the wound in your chest.

"It seems like a long time." He tells you genuinely, voice dipping low, rusty with cigar smoke. "It'll be over before you know it."

You don't have time to reply, because to your horror there's another soldier at the door, saluting before conveying that the captain is needed in the briefing office. When you trail behind Price, he only turns, settles both his hands on your shoulders and gruffly tells you to rest.

When you watch his back vanish down the corridor, you try not to hear the sound of creaking bones and rifle bullets, of cataclysmic destruction that leaves behind only the aching void of loneliness in its wake.

You don't even have time to say goodbye.

You watch from the windows of the barracks as the plane lifts off to an unknown destination, vanishes behind the veil of clouds, and then there's just you.

Alone. Again.

Alone with your thoughts, with the embrace of rumination that feels like the whisper of the witching hours, desolate, dark, restless. You feel it wrap around you even in sunlight, and the ghost of solicitude loops her lithe arms around your neck like a lost lover, kisses the inside of your thoughts with the taste of temptation.

They aren't coming back. They don't need you. They've seen how weak you are now, they'll never return.

"They'll be back." You whisper aloud to yourself in response, placing a trembling hand against the glass pane. "They haven't given up on me yet."

---

You wander the base aimlessly for the next few days, haunting the mess hall and rec room, trying to find yourself in the silhouettes of others. Your small collection of paperback novels is polished off quickly, tiny notes scribbled  in the margins of 'Dante's Inferno' and 'Wuthering Heights'. Eventually they stack in a tiny tower at your bedside, spines creased gently and pages dog-eared.

You heal slowly. Far too slowly. The pain has become mostly manageable, but there are nights when you rise in your sleep with a wheeze, pace the dark confines of your room trying to escape the shadows there. It doesn't help that your dreams are plagued by them, your comrades, bloodied and broken, reaching out for hands that aren't there. Hands you cannot reach.

One night you wake in a cold sweat, gasping for air, the visage of a cracked, bone white skull mask haunting your innermost thoughts. The eyes blank, cold. Dead.

Laswell tells you little about the mission. You get bits and pieces, but every time you push all you receive on the other line is a disparaging sigh and "Fix, you need to rest. I'll keep you updated if anything goes wrong."

You hate it. You don't want to know when things go wrong. You want to be there when they do, to prove yourself to them, in hopes that maybe they'll keep you just a little longer.

Soon. You remind yourself by day five of the team's absence, constantly pacing the corridors, trying to find instances of them in your loneliness. Soon they'll be back. Soon they'll need me again. Soon, I'll know I can stay.

You wake on day six before dawn, gasping awake as you fall in your dream, endlessly into the chasm of failure, where the crippled bodies of your teammates reach out for you with emaciated, broken limbs.

The training grounds are still dark by the time you get to them. You run them, blasting music, circling the perimeter over and over again like you're trying to stay to the edge of a dark, endless whirlpool. Running so as to avoid the chasing, predatory self-doubt that nips at your heels with feral eyes and jagged teeth.

The sun rises, and soon it begins to bake the back of your neck, your shoulders. Eventually you stop, and the inertia of your motion threatens to drag you off your feet. Your chest aches, but you welcome the pain. It's a distraction, a reminder. An anchor against the fraught silence that plagues you more than any wound.

By the time dinner rolls around you're back again, circling the drain until well past sunset, after your playlist has looped for the third time that day. By the end of it you're bent over, breathless, shaking, and yet somehow there's triumph. Yet it tastes hollow, bitter like over-steeped tea, and you push down the part of you that offers a gentle respite, a reminder of self-preservation.

If you run, you can flee, can hide from the perilous self-doubt that threatens to haunt the shadows of your thoughts, spinning cobwebs of dismay that overtake the empty caverns you've long since carved out. Fight or flight fuels every waking moment, a spiral you mimic with your steps across the training field, running a rut in the grass so deep it resembles the abyss that haunts your dreams. Perilous failure, a chasm where the wind howls in your ears and bites across your skin. You feel like a doe in the twilight glade, heaving heavy breaths as the wolves of your ruminations bark and howl, nip at the hocks of your legs.

The entire time your mind flashes with visions of them. Of Gaz's grin, eyes hidden by his sunglasses that reflect the sibylline brightness of daytime. Of Soap's jovial laughter, the corners of his eyes scrunching and broad chest rising, a sound that feels like trumpets announcing victory. Of Price and the sulfurous mist exhaled like dragon's breath, floating up into the same sky where you silently offer wishes for his approval.

Of Ghost, of the stygian, merciless presence of him that feels less like the visitation of a reaper and more of shadows in which to shelter yourself from the dazzling brightness of all things blinding. You lean into him and wordlessly, he has you, watches you from afar and traces your steps that mimic the history of his, observes you ascend the precarious tower of expectations you've yet to dismantle inside your soul. He extends his arms, prepares to catch you if you fall.

You need them. More than they need you, and it's the realization of that which has you clawing your sheets in your dreams. You need them to keep you, here in the place where you've found a home, dangerous and fraught that it may be. There's nowhere else for you. Not with your parents, not with your former company. You need to not be alone. You need to prove to them you can stay. Even if you can just fool them, be selfish enough to trick them into keeping you, you need them to smile at you long enough for the smoke to clear in your hideous self-deprecation, to drink in the oxygen of them like it's your last breath.

If you can heal faster, can show them how resilient you are, then everything will be fine, everything will be-

Red. On your fingers.

Wet, warm, crimson as you delicately prop under your shirt, hissing at the feeling of something torn and damp against your skin. It shines rusty under the scant light of the dark training grounds, coats the pads of your fingers like scarlet ink with which to smear a forbidden oath.

You stare down at it mutely, realizing with a strange sort of distance that it's yours. Gingerly, your hand snakes under your shirt, reveals a torn gash in your side. When you press down your knees nearly buckle at the sudden wash of pain, dark and viscous and choking you. Your voice chokes in your throat and you hate the sound of it, hearing the useless whimper of agony that chases up your windpipe. How you didn't notice the tear before is beyond you, something about imbibing in the hurt, letting the ache fill the crevasses of your heart like liquid metal seeping into a fissure.

Your hand clings to the fence beside you, fingers tangling with the chain link as the distress of your injury washed over you all at once.

Fuck, it hurts.

You've done something, whatever that may be, and now your mistakes seeps over your fingers.

This is bad.

Bad not just for you, but for your recovery. Shit, the looming eight weeks ahead of you seems to stretch into infinity, into an inexhaustible leave where they leave you behind, dismiss you and curse you to roam the earth endlessly, looking for a place in which to rest.

The infirmary.

You have a key, of course, being one of the medics. It's probably empty at this hour save for the sergeant on attendance. You can probably sneak past them, grab enough supplies to see to this yourself without one of the nurses telling on you to Price or Laswell.

You stumble in the direction of the barracks to retrieve your key, shrugging on your jacket to hide the blossoming stain across your side.

You don't hear the plane land.

The barracks are quiet by the time you reach them, most of the officers and squaddies already tucked into their quarters, the commanding officers lounging in the rec room or officer's lounge. It makes your journey easier as you traverse the corridors, trying to avoid any questions lest someone see you even now, realize what a complete and utter wreck you are, dipping falsehoods onto your fingers. Your feet nearly trip over the stairs, hand clutching at the rail ad dragging yourself upwards despite the effort it takes to not think about your leaking wound.

Carnations, scarlet and blotted with vibrance, blossom where stitches meet skin, a grotesque bouquet of regrets with the scent only of iron to color your senses.

When you reach the third floor, and turn the corner, you feel a wave of nausea suddenly wash over you, green and viscous and sour. You have to brace on the wall for a moment, waiting for your stomach to settle before making your way down the hall.

Then you see him.

Tall, imposing, clad in black. He soaks up what little light there is in the dim hallway. The unshed tactical gear makes him look bigger than he is, looming like a phantom outside your door. His scarf trails behind his back, and for a moment it feels almost like the cowl of a specter, his bone white mask a flash of white before it all ends and you're sucked down into an obsidian infinitum.

His hand is raised to knock, hovering over the metal surface. You can smell the grenade smoke wafting off of him from where you stand, acrid, burnt, molten metal like the glint of his stare. You blink as you realize he must have come straight from the plane, not bothering to untack or store his gear before coming to see you.

You startle at the sight of him, and it's in the corner of his stained vision that somehow he sees you, turns with an alert gaze that's soon masked by an expression of disinterest.

"Ghost." You hoarse, and his eyes narrow at your tone, closing the last few steps between you, stopping just short of you. Not touching, not moving, not reaching for you. Contained in his own orbit that you're drawn to anyways, looking up into his eyes, where the ink of his paint has faded from his blonde lashes.

"Fix." He greets, hands loose at his sides, chin tucked to fully regard you. The strap of his helmet creaks as he does, and briefly your eyes dart up to the night-vision goggles still strapped to his head.

"Price sent me to check on you." He offers in the silence that follows, and there's enough clarity within you to note that it somehow feels rehearsed, too practiced.

"Well-" You huff an anxious laugh, try to not let your eyes dart to your door handle, mind running to your desk drawer, where you keep your clinic key stashed. "Consider me checked on."

There's a pause between you, and within it lies the heaviness of the unspoken, the unsaid. All the confessions inside of you threaten to bubble up like the last gap of air before drowning in the deep, dark ocean.

I'm glad you're safe. Where are the others? Are they hurt? Did you need me? Will you forgive me when I wasn't there?

"How's your injury?" He asks suddenly, voice flat, but beneath the feigned disinterest you see his eyes, framed by blonde lashes, dip to your side. Your heartbeat flutters -too loud- as you pray the blood has yet to seep through the fabric of your jacket.

"Fine." You answer, a little too quickly, and that dark gaze sweeps up to your face, pins you to the spot without a single touch. You feel your chest tighten now not with the constricting compression of pain, but with something more phantasmic, a byproduct of his very presence. A prickle of awareness that breathes across your neck every time he ventures close, a reminder of him where he smears his ink stained fingers on the inside of your skull.

Door. Desk. Drawer. Stairs. Five minute walk. Clinic. Back room. Supply closet. Third shelf.

Your mind runs the steps ahead of you, but you can't sidle past, not with Ghost's immense, towering form blocking the width of the hallway. His dark gaze stares down at you, scrutinizing you, and it feels somehow like you're being flayed open by his knife, skin parting from bone as he dares a glance at the hidden, duplicitous interior of you. You try to not meet his eyes, knowing that if you do he'll see it, he'll see all of you, with his gaze that feels like black holes, threatens to tear you asunder with the gravity inside them.

He says something else when your eyes again dart to your door. When you don't immediately, he tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing.

"Fix?"

"Sorry-" You supply immediately, eyes darting back to Ghost. Yet the world around you wavers then, and you frown, blink, trying once more to tether yourself firmly to gravity. Even as you focus, however, the room seems to tilt and sway under you, and you can't help but rock on your feet a little in a subtle but desperate bid to find balance. "W-what did you just say?"

Ghost stills suddenly, and his eyes narrow from behind his mask, form going rigid as he appraises you.

Don't. You think desperately, both to yourself and to him. Don't look.

The wound must be worse than you thought, because the sudden wash of dizziness makes you threaten to sway on your feet, lost in inertia. You can feel the tug of it, your feet carrying you in endless circles as you spiral down a familiar whirlpool, lost in despair.

"...You alright?" Ghost asks tentatively, as if not expecting you to give him a straight answer.

"Solid." You reply almost instantly, and even as you tilt your head up to regard his massive form the shape of him seems to shift before your eyes. Despite being pinned under his stare you try not to sway, not to buckle.

Just breathe. You remind yourself, forcing manual inhales and exhales in an attempt to remain composed. The warm wetness of your wound is already bleeding through your bandages, soaking the gauze packed against your side and dyeing it a rancid scarlet that reeks of failure. You know the longer you stay here, the longer he questions you that you run the risk of being discovered, of your ruse being revealed in horrific, dazzling color.

God, you wonder if he can smell it on you- the bitter, iron taste of blood.

"Don't lie." He states, stepping closer, and when you instinctively take a step back you nearly stumble, one arm dropping to your side in an attempt to find something to balance with. "You don't look fine."

"W-what do you mean?" You try, but your voice wavers when you speak- as unsteady as your form. A sapling in a thunderstorm. Lighting bursts across the darkened skies of your anxiety.

"Fix." Ghost states, and that sends a flash of panic through you, the way his voice evens with seriousness, eyes suddenly steely and trained completely on you. A hunter's scope, and you're caught in the snare.

"Don't." You manage, and take another step back, retreating-

The world shifts under you.

You have just enough time to blink, for your lips to part in an 'oh' of realization before the weakness in your legs finally gives. As they buckle your eyes dart to Ghost's, and you catch a single glimpse of shock that flashes plainly across his gaze before he's moving, reaching for you-

When the world stills again it's to the sensation of an arm under your back, the hand snaking around your side and pressing close to your raw, seeping wound hidden under your gear.

You choke on the pain, the sound a strangled gasp that bubbles up your throat and forces the air from your lungs.

When Ghost moves his hand you feel it, feel the crimson ooze soaking through your shirt and jacket against your side, and painting his glove in dark, glistening wetness.

"FUCKING hell." Ghost snarls when he realizes what it is, his eyes darting down to your side where red colors across the fabric of your white tee.

"G-Ghost-" You manage, even as the world spins around you, an abrupt kaleidoscope of shape and color. It's the white of his mask that grounds you, mirroring his wide, surprised gaze as it turns from his glove to your ashen, stricken expression. "LT, wait-"

"You stupid girl." Ghost snarls, and you flinch.

Before you can stop him, Ghost reaches for his radio, and when he presses down it leaves a bloody stain on the casing.

"Price." He barks, voice grating deep in his chest- the one he uses to issue orders, bring men back into line. "Fix is injured. Tore her stitches."

In a desperate bid you try to reach for him, face alight with pain and shock as you try to stop him, try to grapple the radio away. Yet Ghost merely knocks your hand aside and fixes you with a stare so harsh and cold it freezes you in place.

"How bad?" Price's voice crackles from the other end of the comm, and you swallow, try to answer.

"I-I'm okay." You supply, but Ghost snarls at you.

"She's not okay." He echoes over you. "She's fucking bleeding out."

"I'm...not-"

"Shut up." Ghost bites at you, but there's a waver in his voice you don't recognize as it harshes inside his chest, grinding and impatient and...somehow scared.

You hear Price curse on the other end of the radio.

"Where are you? I'm on my way and sending Gaz to find a medic."

"Southeast hallway. Third floor. Outside her bunk." Ghost replies sharply, and at once he's readjusting you, laying you down on your uninjured side. You curl into yourself, feeling tears threaten as he does so.

It hurts.

The pain itself, but the knowledge that with every stained drop you're exposing yourself, letting him know you failed, that you aren't fit to stand by him, that your injury is-

When Ghost's hand presses down against your wound you yell, the agony of his touch unexpected and horrific as he tries to stem the gush from your side. It blinds you, sends white shooting across your vision in brilliant white specks, blotting out the brightness of the humming fluorescent lights above you both. The aftertaste of it lingers in your mouth, like burnt pennies, thick and vile as it clogs your chest, grips your heart-

"Stay. Still." Ghost tells you on no uncertain terms even as you writhe, tears now spilling from your eyes and tracing down your cheeks in hot, furious trails.

"I'm sorry-" You try, but your voice is cracked, caught in your throat as a sob. "Ghost, I'm sorry-"

"Why did you do this?!" He hisses, as he uses one hand to press against your shoulder and anchor you. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

You swallow, but it does nothing to stop the ache in your throat, the pain that laces up your side and cross your spine, your hips, your heart.

"I-I didn't-" You hiccup, and the world is in chaos now, with your cries and your secrets exposed, with his gaze raking over your trembling, injured form. "Didn't want you to see, Ghost. I'm sorry-"

He stills.

Then, Ghost's eyes take on a light you've never seen before. Frustration, anger, disappointment, these things you've been witness to in your lieutenant. However now the color of Ghost's eyes is dark not with these things, but with fury.

"Have you gone bloody mental?!" He bellows at you, and the world feels like it's trembling with the volume of his voice alone, shaking at the foundations of the earth itself. "Do you have any idea the danger you put yourself in?!"

There's a note of his words that ring true in you, that cleave apart the shell of doubt and allow radiance to seep through. You hide from it, curl further into yourself on the cold linoleum of the hallway, a sob cracking your throat as the weight of the world comes crashing down around you.

They're going to leave you for this. You're going to be alone again, all because your life seems to be a litany of failures, an impossible grave to claw out of as dirt pours in from the top.

You're heaving now, breaths too uneven, too ragged, and when it presses down on your lung the hurt is enough to make you cry out a strangled yell, kick out your feet in an automatic reflex.

Ghost's voice sounds distant now as blood rushes in your ears, your heartbeat wild and banging against the inside of your chest like a frantic, trapped bird. His hands are on you but you hardly feel them as panic engulfs you, and the whirlpool roars as it drags you down, down, down.

"Hey! Calm down, Fix! Fuck, just breathe!"

It hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest, your side, your lungs, the pain feels like it's seeping into your bloodstream, blocking your airways, poison running through your veins.

Another set of hands. Cigar smoke, ash.

"Soldier! Fix! Look at me!"

You can't. You refuse. If you see Price's gaze now in the moment of your ruin the stitches that bind you together will come loose at the seam and you'll unspill, empty cotton falling over their fingers. Fluff where there's supposed to be iron.

"Where the fuck is the medical team?!"

"They're on their way. Keep pressure on the wound."

Hands on your face. Gloves that smell like gun smoke.

"Fix, darling. You're having a panic attack. You need to breathe, you're going to hurt yourself if you don't."

You shake your head, dislodging the captain's touch.

No. You think with a ragged heave of air. Don't look. Don't look don't look please don't look.

The ground trembles as footsteps draw closer, and there's voice you don't recognize, hands pawing at you, light in your eyes-

You flail blindly, confused, scared, and when a heavy pair of hands lands on your shoulders to pin you it only makes your voice choke out with a frantic cry.

"We need to put her under."

No, no, please don't. Not sleep, not the nightmares-

"Do it."

Price. Captain. No, please-

"It's alright, darling. We've got you. You're okay."

Don't-

A jab, a little pinch on the inside of your arm. You try to make a noise, a whimpering sound of protest. There's a sudden flash of clarity before the darkness, and you open your eyes (When did you start crying?) to Price above you, his face pinched, distraught. Ghost is holding down your legs, and as your eyes drift to him he becomes nothing more than a shimmering phantom, blurred dark at the edges, a void in contrast to the too bright world around you.

"Please-" You whisper, the word heavy on your lips, eyes blinking-

Then there's nothing.

Tag List: (Reblog this post to be added to future fics from this series! If you'd like to be removed please DM me!)

@dankest-farrik @zwiiicnziiix @moondirti @sritashimada @ladiilokii @yeyinde @sandinthemachine @verdandis-blog @guyfieriiifierriii @fan-of-encouragement @starlitnotes

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #mw2 #cod mw22 #Simon ghost riley x oc #reader insert #cod x reader #fic: shadow and bone #oc: fix

[obxsummer]

Dreamcatcher // JJ Maybank

pairing: jj maybank x gn!reader

request: “I broke the lock. You were screaming.” and ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ with jj? gn!reader has been having nightmares every night since the treasure hunting started, and its the first night back in obx after poguelandia and they have a really bad one, and jj is there to help? of course, only write it if you want to, your writing is beautiful! lots of love <3

warnings: nightmares, creepy wound descriptions

a/n: y'all i have no idea why the links are going to the browser the way they are but I'm hoping tumble fixes itself here soon

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#obx3celebration

--

Your time in Poguelandia was hard. Learning how to survive off the island around you was rewarding, but also terrifying. What if you ate something poisonous or someone got seriously injured? Each day got a little bit easier than the one before but you couldn’t lie and say it was a vacation. 

You were glad to be back in the OBX. Although it sucked living back here on your own, it was nice to be back in your bed and to know what exactly you were surrounding yourself with. JJ followed along with you after coming back to an eviction notice on his door. You were more than happy to offer up the extra room in your home, grateful to not have an empty house. 

You’d grown up alongside Sarah Cameron and the Kooks, easily becoming one of her best friends over the years. Eventually, you were dragged into the chaos and solidified your Pogue friendship with Kie, JJ, Pope, and John B. They were your best friends, your steady pillars in a rocky world. Of course, jumping off a boat in the middle of the ocean wasn’t on your bucket list, but you’d do anything for them.

Nothing brought people together better than trauma bonding, of course. In the past month, you and JJ slowly inched closer. Both of you had nobody to return home to and nowhere to be. He was lost and you were broken; two puzzle pieces that oddly fit together. 

JJ was crashing in the guest bedroom, having showered and fallen asleep quickly after the two of you got dropped off. You took your time to get to bed, knowing as soon as you sat on the mattress, you’d be out for hours. 

You didn’t know where your parents were, opting that maybe they never even knew you were gone in the first place. You were quick to find a spare phone and get it set back up in case the Pogues reached out with any news. 

The dark and quiet of your room was intimidating as you lay there on your back. You were so used to the crackle of a dying fire, or one of your friends snoring. The moon almost always cast a light around you as well and the sound of the moving ocean was calming. 

It wasn’t obvious when the dark of your ceiling turned into the dark of your dreams but suddenly, you were back on that island. The sky was black above you with flashes of light from a nearing storm. Turning around, you quickly realized you were alone. You tried not to resort straight to panic but it was hard to do, especially here of all places.

Your feet moved quickly through the terrain as you attempted to make your way back to where you knew your camp was set up. “JJ? Sarah! Hello? Anyone!” Your voice was scratchy as you yelled in hopes that someone would hear you and call back.

Fear bubbled in your chest when you couldn’t find camp. Everything was gone; Sarah’s woven baskets, the fire JJ had built, all of the food you’d surfaced, everything. Everyone.

“Someone! Hello!” You spun towards the open water, the liquid black with the night. You were stranded by yourself, with no way home. No friends to help you. “Help, please!”

“Looking for someone?” The voice of Ward Cameron grabbed your attention instantly. He faded into view, covered in blood, and looked like he meant revenge. “They’re all dead. You killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” You mumbled in confusion. Your eyes dropped to your own hands that were covered in dark red, the liquid practically dripping off your fingers. “Where are they?”

“You’re the reason we’re dead, Y/N.” A hand landed on your shoulder and forced you to spin. John B’s figure was standing in front of you with a noticeable bullet wound in his chest. Blood seeped through his shirt as Sarah walked up behind him with a similar wound in her hip. 

You shook your head drastically, choking on the air in your throat at the sight of them. “No, no it wasn’t me! I-I don’t even-”

“We told you you weren’t cut out for this,” Kiara’s voice interrupted your desperate pleas as she moved into your vision. “You didn’t pull me out of the airplane, Y/N. Why didn’t you pull me out?”

“Stop!” You sobbed as you backed up to put distance between the three of them. This couldn’t be real. You swore you’d never let anything happen to any of the Pogues.

A sickening laugh came from next to you where Cleo and Pope were standing. Their clothing was smoking, almost ashy in nature. “It’s real,” Pope snapped to confirm your thoughts. “You didn’t save us. You said you would save us from the fire.”

Your body heaved at the sight of all of them, so damaged and lifelike in front of you. “No! I wouldn’t have let anything happen I-”

“You caused all of it.” JJ was suddenly right in front of you, bruises littering his body as blood smeared from open wounds. “You watched as my dad ended my life. Didn’t even move, didn’t flinch. You watched all of us die, Y/N, and you didn’t even try to stop it.”

“Now it’s time for us to bring you with us.” Kie’s grin was devilish as they all surrounded you. “Actions have consequences.”

“Y/N! Y/N, wake the hell up!”

You gasped air into your lungs and sat up sharply as the vision faded to nothing. You blinked tears from your eyes and folded over to get oxygen back into your body. Someone’s hand was warm on your back as they rubbed comforting circles.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ’s voice sent chills down your spine. It was a stark contrast to the vicious, cruel tone you’d witnessed just seconds ago. “Just breathe. I gotcha.”

It took a moment before you could sit back up. You had become too aware of how cold your body was, no doubt from the sweat of whatever nightmare you’d just lived through. “What…What happened?”

“I broke the lock,” JJ admitted as you collapsed into his side and shivered. He cradled you against him tightly. “You were screaming.”

“Sorry, bad dream,” You apologized roughly. Your fingers were clenching the comforter harshly. It felt too real like he would disappear from beneath you in a split second and you’d be facing the consequences of something you caused. 

JJ could feel you shaking in his arms. He’d barely gotten any sleep himself, so the second you cried out he came flying. It was hard not to assume the worst automatically. He’d watched you put on a brave face for so long and a break was inevitable at some point. He just didn’t expect you to scream the way you did. He didn’t hesitate to kick your bedroom door in and run to your side.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?” The question was soft and felt optional for you to agree to. 

You shrugged in his grasp, mumbling a thank you when he handed you the water from your nightstand. Nightmares like this had been happening for a while, ever since the treasure hunting started really. You’d dreamt through most of your memories but through a horrific lens instead. The only person you ever told was Pope, who had told you of similar instances himself. You guys went from being kids who fucked around for fun to life-and-death situations around every corner. 

 “It’s just like…ever since we started looking for the gold, these nightmares have gotten worse and worse. The scary part is they’re all very possible of being true. Of you guys getting hurt or-or worse? And I can’t even stop it, I’m just forced to watch it all unfold until I lose every single one of you.”

JJ was quiet as he listened to you speak. The wavering in your voice as you recounted what you’d seen made him even more upset that you’d dealt with this for so long. It was no secret your friend group got up to mischievous plans, but to know that it was at the point where you lost sleep over the idea of not having them was heartbreaking. 

“It’s all over now,” JJ reassured as his thumb brushed at your cheeks. “Promise. Nothin’s gonna happen to any of us. I wouldn’t let it.”

His words didn’t bring as much comfort as you would’ve liked. Nothing ever really did until you saw each of your friends in front of you and were able to hug them. That’s the only way it ever felt real like the bad dreams were nothing compared to having them around you. 

Your phone flashed 4:22 am back in your direction as you skimmed the notifications. You’d have to wait until it was acceptable to call everyone or gather them up to see them. You let out a defeated sigh, “Thanks, J. You didn’t have to come in.”

“Course I did. Gotta make sure you’re safe,” His response brought a smile to your face as you finally pulled out of his embrace. “Do…Do you want me to stay?”

You took a second to consider his offer before shaking your head and moving away from him. “I’m probably gonna stay awake and I don’t want you to have to-”

“Y/N.” JJ grabbed your hand to pull your attention back to him. “Just answer the question.”

You stared at him for a moment, your teeth digging into the skin on the inside of your lip before you nodded in response. JJ didn’t hesitate to wiggle under your sheets. He was a heavy sleeper so it would likely be easy for him to slip back into a peaceful slumber while you tossed and turned the rest of the night.

“Lay down before I drag you to sleep myself,” His voice was raspy as his fingers tugged against your t-shirt until you gave in and shuffled down next to him. JJ’s hand was warm as it reached across your frame to grab your right him to pull you closer until your chest was against his. “Just try, I gotcha.”

You adjusted so your head rest against his chest, fingers brushing his shirtless side before you settled in. Your busted doorframe could be fixed in the morning. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were still exhausted and JJ’s warmth was taking over as you listened to his steady breathing fill your surroundings. 

“Promise you’ll be here in the morning?” You whispered shyly. Part of you hoped that was enough nightmares for the night but you didn’t wanna jinx yourself.

JJ’s blue eyes blinked open as a small smile formed across his face. His arm moved until his fingers grabbed yours from his side so he could hold them closer. If this was how you had to spend every night from here on out to keep the bad dreams away, he’d chase them until he couldn’t anymore. He’d do anything to make sure you were okay.

“Gonna be right here when you open your eyes. Promise.”

--

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#obx3celebration #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #rudy pankox #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank fanfic

[akesdraws-blog]

Giving you a hand

Version (🎞️TMNT BAYVERSE🎞️)

Note: The turtles help you prepare for a job interview and will pretend to be the future or possible boss. Warnings: None, spelling mistakes

🍵Leonardo 🍵

It will prepare you as if you were going to go into the most dangerous fight of your life. He was reading your application for a few moments and made you show him that you really have all those skills that you put. (If you said you are fast at writing, you better be, because it will take your time) You better not stutter at any point or you'll get Leo's ninja stare. (And he is not very pretty to say the least)

Y/N. -Why the hell do I have to practice immobilizing someone?!- L. -Never know what is going to happen in your work- Y/N. -But I'm going to apply for secretary, not security!-

And when they have to simulate the interview, Leo will come into character, a boss who may seem friendly but will not be. He will offer you some tea and they will start doing the “interview”. But after a few minutes his response is…

L. -We will call you- Y/N. -What? Leo, this is supposed to be the part where you tell me I have the job.- L. -I would if you had done it well- Y/N. -But I did everything right! I answered everything, which part was wrong- L. -To begin the posture, you are hunched over, and you play with your feet, in addition to fiddling with your hands, that does not show security, and your smile seemed more like a request for help… Shall I continue? -

That's right, Leo is going to evaluate everything you do. Internally you will be grateful that you are not going to have a boss like him.

⚗️Donatello ⚗️

This guy will review your application about 10 times and he will always find some error, which will cause you to do it again. He gave you a time to answer each question and you better not spend another second or they will go back to the beginning. He himself wrote you a few pretty good letters of recommendation. He will prepare you in any aspect that the interview may cover and even that which it will not cover.

Y/N. -Is it necessary for me to study this?- D. -They have to see that you are skilled in any case- Y/N. -But I don't think a cafeteria would ask me to know how to repair an engine- D. -But maybe your boss's car doesn't work, and that's where you act!-

When it's time to simulate the interview, you'll be as nervous as if it were a real one. Because like Leo, he gets into character and we're not talking about a good one, his character will be like talking to John Jonah Jameson Jr. himself.

D. -So you want to work- Y/N. -That's how it is- D. -Why here? Why not somewhere else? I heard they were looking for one near here- Y/N. -Well, it's the closest to where I live- D. -Just that? Isn't it because we are the best? Are you reducing us only as an option for closeness? Y/N. -I did not mean that- D. -If you don't see how we are the best of the best, maybe it's not the place for you, look for another place!- Y/N. -Donnie!- D. -What? Was it too much? You never know what kind of boss you will have-

Let's say you'll practice interviewing with different types of bosses, from a nice boss to one you'd want to hang. But in the end he will apologize if he feels that he has crossed the line or notices that your morals have gone to the ground.

🥊Raphael 🥊

It will only help with two issues.If she found what you were doing curious or because she saw you as nervous as a chihuahua. (And your murmurs were already bothering him)

First he will question the place and position you will go to, he knows that you are much better for such a low position, but he hopes that at least they will give you a good pay.

But if you have photos of the place where you are going to apply, this guy will go into overprotective mode.

R. -Why can't you see where the fire extinguishers are? The emergency exit is very far away, and have you already seen the windows? Any crazy person could throw a stone and it would break into thousands of pieces, what kind of security protocol? do they have in case of a theft? Or if the Foot Clan arrive?

Y/N. -Why would those on the foot go to a cafeteria?-

R. -They may be criminals but everyone needs a coffee-

That's right, raph just created a new fear for you.

You will have to beg him to simulate an interview, because in his words it is a waste of time.

R. -Do you have schedule availability?-

Y/N. -Yes!, at the time I set I will come right away and...-

R. -Do you know how to make coffee, tea or whatever we sell?

Y/N. -Yes, my espressos are wonderful and...-

R. -Do you want to work here?-

Y/N. -Um, yes, but you have to let me finish talking...-

R. -Hired, I'm leaving-

Y/N. -Raph!-

It will be a matter of a few minutes before your mock interview ends, mostly because Raph won't let you finish talking.

But he always encourages you, he knows that you can do it if you put your mind to it.

🍕Miguel Angel 🍕

He already knew that you were preparing for an interview, it's not like he will use your phone to order a pizza and by mistake he read the message of the day and time your interview would be, that didn't happen at all.

He will show you the best streets and shortcuts to avoid traffic.

M. -And if you go this way you can get there in less than 20 minutes-

Y/N. -Mike... They are buildings-

M. -You will never see traffic over there-

Mikey will beg to simulate the interview.He even converted the room into an office, you saw how he made a boss badge out of a pizza box that said “Super Chief Cowabunga”.

You don't even know where he got a tie, much less a briefcase.

Y/N. -Very well, remember Mikey, you are the one who is going to interview me, just follow the questions that I put on the sheet and the ones that occur to you-

M. -Understood, but bosses are always full of papers, Donnie must have a lot of papers-

Y/N. -I don't think they are necessary-

M. -And the bosses also have a phone to call their pretty assistants-

Y/N. -I don't even think that's important right now-

M. -Wait, a boss has a white cat, right? I need a white cat-

Y/N. -I don't think bosses have a white cat-

They never start to simulate the interview, as Mikey quickly gets distracted.

In the end you will only see how Mikey continues to bring more and more things to be a true “boss”

One good thing is that you weren't nervous anymore, and if you started to feel a little nervous you only remembered how Mikey started to get distracted and it just made you laugh a little.

•°~•°~•°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•

Tags:

@turtle-babe83 . @dilucsflame33. @thelaundrybitch . @scholastic-dragon. @leosgirl82. @tmnt-tychou .@little-bunny-in-space . @happymoonangel . @lazyafgurl . @kikithedreamerwriter .@androidships007.

#tmnt fandom #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #bayverse donnie #bayverse leo #bayverse mikey #bayverse raph #bayverse turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt april #april o'neil #tmnt casey jones #casey jones #bayverse casey jones #Bayverse april

[circe69]

Hello, hello!

I was wondering if the prompt

20.) hand massages - "let me practice on you please? i just need to make sure i'm good at it." *ends massage* "well? how was it?" *takes a deep, shaky breath* "you have to promise you'll only do that for me." Was already taken.

If not, could it possibly be a Simon Riley x fem reader (or gn) ?

He deserves so much affection…

If not, then thank you for reading. I hope you have an awesome day

Stay safe 🤍

hi! yes of course! another sweet nonnie also requested this specific scenario, but i wasn't sure how to put that on here. anyways, thank you for participating in my special!

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟎 - 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 - ❤︎

You walked down the dim-lit hall with wet boots clanking on the ground, lotion in one hand, and the other being bandaged and empty. Coming home from a mission was never easy, but this one in particular really made you question your entire career.

It was storming outside, and your head was killing you from all the guns that went off right next to you ear, but you knew someone else that was having a harder time than you.

Ghost never let things get to him, it took a lot to shake him up, but after tonight, you weren't sure if he'd ever be the same. There was a little boy, probably not much older than 5, who had died due to casualties, and those very same casualties would be the cause for Ghost's guilt for the rest of his life.

People died all the time, Ghost being the reason, but kids were different.

You took a deep breath, finally nearing the Lieutenants metal door and preparing yourself to hopefully make his night a little better.

What am I even doing here? There's nothing I could do that would help, you thought, wondering if you should just turn back around. You took a minute to observe your surroundings, the loud and shaky AC harmonizing with the rain pouring on the window at the opposite end of the hall, the few lightbulbs hanging only a few inches above your head, and the thunder that shook the entire base every few minutes, leaving you restless and yearning for someone to just be with.

Raising and clenching your fist, you hesitatingly knocked on the door, 3 times, just like you always did. It was quiet, but you hoped it was enough for him to hear.

Seconds went by, and your pride was already too deep in a ditch to knock again. You started to turn around and head back to your room when the door swung open.

You stopped in your tracks, abruptly turning to face him, the man who you had once been terrified of, but now see him as someone who's just sick of everything he has to do, but does it anyway.

"Y/N." His voice was deep, like fire crackling and splitting wood. It sounded the same as it always did, except for the slight turn his words took at the end of his sentences.

"Sir."

His eyes grazed over you, they looked tired and black around the edges, most likely due to the face paint he feverishly tried to rinse off.

"Do you need something?" He eyed the lotion sticking out of your pocket, resulting in you pulling your tank top over the edge of your pants to hide it.

"I was actually just coming by to make sure," You stopped for a second to scan over his face, "make sure you were alright."

Ghost stood there, leaning against the doorway and eyebrows furrowing so deeply, you could see it through the fabric of his mask. His hands were tight, muscles still tense from events that had happened hours ago.

"I'm alright," he started to close the door right in your face, but you placed your hand against it just in time. "Lieutenant." You were known as somewhat demanding, but always gentle simultaneously. Ghost was confused by it, and how your demeanor always contradicted itself, but it intrigued him nonetheless.

His eyes were drawn to your hand, veins popping out and knuckles turning white due to the amount of strength you were pushing against the door. Due to how hard you were trying to just be with him.

"Get in." He turned around and let you into his room, turning on the singular light as he walked past the switch. He took a seat on his cot, causing the metal springs to groan under his weight, and you pulled up a chair right across from him and sat down, scooting in slightly to be closer.

You bit down on your lip to conceal the smile you so badly wanted to show, but was scared Ghost would kick you out immediately.

"Hurry up and do what you came here to do." His knees were touching yours, but neither of you moved; you felt your stomach jump just at the feeling alone.

You held your hand out, signaling to him that you wanted to see his hand. He hesitated, his eyes shifting from your hand up to your eyes than back down again. Ghost finally caved, his hand outstretching onto yours, and letting the weight of it slowly relax.

"People say I'm really good at it," you paused to watch his eyes widen at the vague statement, "Hand massages, I mean." Your mouth stretched into a smile as you saw a tiny one show through his mask but quickly disappear.

"I'll be the judge of that." His words were quiet, seductively quiet.

You slowly removed the black, leather glove from his calloused hands, and through it over on the bed behind him. Uncapping the coconut scented lotion, you squeezed out a tiny bit on your middle finger before screwing the lid back on the placing it on the carpet below you.

Spreading the cream on his hands, you slowly worked with every one of his fingers, trying to ignore the pleased noises coming from Ghost's throat but never leaving his mouth. There was a particular spot on the webbing between his thumb and finger that made his eyes close in delight, and you pressed there for a little longer to relieve any tension he was holding.

It was all the guns he held, all the triggers he had to hover above for hours at a time before moving. All the salutes and punches he had to swing, it all piled up on his shoulders and the pressure worked its way down his arms and onto his poor hands. Hands that had held his dying family, dying dogs, dying boys. Hands that wiped blood off of himself, not all of it even being his own.

As you finished massaging both of his hands, and hearing him breathe deeply in and out, relishing in the soft scent that reminded him of you, you patted his palm to tell silently tell him you were finished.

"Well? How was it, Lieutenant?"

His eyes slowly opened again, pleased to see that you really were sitting in front of him, and it wasn't another dream.

"You have to promise me something," Ghost said, sliding his fingerless gloves back on and cracking his knuckles.

"What is it?"

He stood up, hovering almost 3 feet over where you sat and crossed his arms as he looked down at you. You tried to disregard taking in his body in its entirety, but your eyes found it hard to stay in one place.

Ghost finally broke the silence that felt like hours but somehow seconds at the same time, "You'll only do that for me."

You smiled, and nodded in fast agreement, you knew from the minute his eyes locked onto yours that he would be the only one you'd ever want to do anything for.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warfare #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #circe69scribbles #circes1kevent

[whiskey-bumblebee]

I'm On Fire

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Reader (gender neutral, I think!)

Word Count: 2730

A/N: I got towards the end and realized there was way too much I wanted to pack in here, so I think I'm going to do a part 2! Let me know if you'd be interested! <3

Warnings: older Hotch/younger reader, a brief scene of hotch getting off on his own, inappropriate relationships <3 I think that's it?

Your soaked clothes cling to your body as you stand in the pouring rain. Cars pass you, occasionally honking, leaving you sighing. Your dad was meant to pick you up from practice half an hour ago.

A familiar car nears the curb where you're standing, and you squint into the headlights, holding up your hand to block out some of the brightness.

Great, you think. Now I'm going to get kidnapped.

The car pulls over, and you take a step back. The window rolls down and you're met with a familiar face, leaning over the passenger seat.

"Get in," He calls.

Mr. Hotchner. Aaron.

You hesitate for a moment, looking around. It's dark. For all you know, your dad isn't coming at all.

You sigh and open the door, taking a seat. You're completely soaked, and you cringe at the way the rain drips onto the leather upholstery. You drop your bag in the footwell.

"I'm sorry," You say before anything else. "I'll get you a towel as soon as we're at my place."

Mr. Hotchner doesn't react, looking you over carefully. "Are you okay? It's freezing out there."

You nod. "I'm okay. My dad was..."

"Late," He finishes, his jaw clenching as he flicks the indicator on.

"Have you heard from him?" You say hopefully.

He shakes his head as he merges seamlessly into the traffic.

"Home?" He asks.

You nod. "Thank you, Mr. Hotchner."

"Aaron," He corrects, a slight sharp edge to his voice. "I've told you that you can call me Aaron."

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold suddenly hitting you now that you're not able to walk around to keep yourself warm.

"Fuck," You murmur under your breath.

Aaron looks you over again. "Bad, huh?"

You will yourself to stop shivering. Fucking embarrassing, being soaking wet and now you're shivering like a dog. Pull yourself together.

You shrug. "Was out there for about half an hour."

"Half an-" He glances at you quickly, then back at the road. "Where's your dad?"

"Probably with his new girlfriend. He's not home much."

You glance at his wedding ring. For a moment, you wish that your dad was more like Mr. Hotchner. Dedicated, loyal. Reliable.

"How's Mrs. Hotchner?"

He clears his throat. "She's alright."

You look at him, the way his grip has tightened on the wheel, his brow furrowing, his shoulders closer to his ears.

"You're lying," You say softly. "You can talk about it, if you want."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. We all have our things," He looks over at you, putting on a smile. "Right?"

You nod. "Right."

A while later, you arrive in front of your house. Aaron waits out front for you to let yourself in. You walk in, and he realizes that all of the lights are off. He waits in the driver's seat, feeling that something's wrong. Sure enough, you walk back out, looking at him sheepishly. He gestures for you to come back out to the car.

"This is awkward, but my dad's not home and there's nothing in the fridge. Could you take me to a drive through?"

He looks at you for a moment.

"Do you want to come to mine? I don't like the idea of you being home all by yourself. It's late."

It's your turn to look at him, trying to find the right way to phrase it.

"I'm not sure Mrs. Hotchner would understand..." You start, and he sighs, but nods. You're right.

The rain is still pouring down, so he gestures for you to get into the car. He presses a few buttons on his phone and you press your lips together.

"Hi, honey," He greets his wife. You look at his ring again. His wife.

"I was just driving home and I got a call from Gideon. He wants us back at the office to start on another case," He explains, turning his head away from yours.

You feel your heart beat faster. Why? Stop. Stop that.

"I'm sorry," He says, and there's real guilt in his voice. You chew your lip. He's lying for you. You almost interrupt to tell him to stop. You'll be fine. But then he's staring at the phone and the car falls into silence. She hung up on him.

"What do you feel like?" He says, and you can tell he's trying to sound upbeat.

"Maybe Mexican?"

He nods. "I know a place."

In all honesty, you'd been expecting him to take you to a Chipotle, or a Taco Bell, something quick and easy, then drop you home again. Instead, you find yourself outside a food truck, where Mr. Hotchner greets the owners by name.

"I forget, are you vegetarian? Is this okay?"

He points at an item on the menu and you nod enthusiastically. It sounds delicious.

While he's ordering, a drunk man lurches towards you. Without thinking, you grab onto Aaron's arm, pressing your body against his. He reacts immediately, pulling you closer.

"Hey," He says authoritatively, and his face sets into a stern look that you've never seen before. He looks lethal. The guy holds up his hands and walks away. You relax, taking a step back.

Aaron pays, and the two of you walk back to his car.

"You okay?" He asks, opening your car door for you.

You nod and slip into the car. He walks around the front of the car, glancing over his shoulder.

He places the food on your lap and starts driving again.

"I don't think..." He clears his throat. "I don't think I should wait for your dad at your place."

You look at him for a moment, trying to understand where his discomfort is stemming from. You're both adults. Yes, he was friends with your dad, but you knew each other well. You'd seen him around often, and spent time alone occasionally. Once or twice he'd driven you home, although those times were planned, not spur of the moment like this was.

"I think I need to change," You say slowly, trying to find a solution before you finish your sentence. "It's really cold."

"Oh, I..." He glances in the backseat quickly. "I have some clothes in the back?"

You nod. "Okay."

You unclip your seatbelt and slip into the back seats as Aaron drives down the highway. He tries to protest, but you're gone before he can get a word out.

"Where are you going?" You ask, eyeing him in the rearview. He keeps his gaze contained to the strip of glass, where he can see your eyes and little else.

"Oh." He looks at the signs hanging over the highway. "Home, I guess. I wasn't thinking."

You duck for a moment, pulling his shirt over your head. For a moment, you fumble with a few of the tiny buttons, doing most of them up.

"Do you want to drive for a while? We could wait until we hear from him?"

"Sure," You reply, touching your hair to see how damp it still is. It feels cool to the touch, but you'll shower in the morning, reset it from the unexpected 'wash'.

In the end it's 3am when your dad texts you back. He apologizes and says he'll be home around lunch. Aaron rolls his eyes when he thinks you're not looking, but you notice.

At some point after that, you must have fallen asleep, because you notice that Aaron has draped his blazer over you, and you have a definite stiffness on one side of your neck from where you'd rested it against the window.

You swear you hear seagulls, and you look around.

"Where are we?" You say, looking out over the water.

"Delaware," He replies, a hint of humour in his voice. "Rehoboth Beach."

"Don't you have work?" You yawn.

"Don't you?" He teases.

You shake your head. "Day off."

"I just kept driving, thought it's been a while since I'd seen the ocean."

You nod, and continue to watch the sunrise over the ocean.

He could retire here, he thinks. The charming seaside houses and hotels, the boardwalk, the sand dunes, the purplish blue of the ocean in this light. It's a beautiful place. The seagulls provide a soundscape unlike any other he's heard. It reminds him of Seattle, in a way, but fresher. The local coffee shop towards the end of the street, the lone jogger taking a quick run before work.

"How about a swim before we head home?"

"Are you kidding?" He says, voice taking on a higher tone as he responds to what he assumes is a joke.

"We came all this way," You shrug. "Seems like a waste not to."

"I don't have a swimsuit with me."

You gesture out at the empty beach. "I don't think anyone will mind."

He shakes his head. "That's..."

"Be crazy," You say, grasping his hand in both of yours. "You just drove to Delaware instead of going home. Something tells me you need some crazy."

He looks at you, dead serious for a moment. You know you've hit the nail on the head. He pulls his hand back from yours, but nods.

"Alright. Last one to get in buys coffee."

"Deal," You grin. Immediately, you tug off your (his) joggers and open the car door, racing to the shoreline.

"No fair!" He calls out. "I'm in a suit!"

He hears your radiant laugh carried back to him on the surprisingly warm breeze, and you look back at him, smiling widely, hair tousled by the wind. He wishes he had a camera.

He takes off his pants slowly, and the same for his shirt and undershirt. He leaves them folded on the driver's seat and tucks the keys in the nook just above one of the wheels.

"I hope you know my coffee order," You tease, sending a wave of water at him as he finally joins you.

His white button up has gone completely transparent in the water, and he thinks you look like a goddess in it. He tries not to look, but he notices your nipples showing through it. Your wet hair emphasizes your facial features, drawing emphasis to the planes of your face, and he thinks he could watch you all day long, the golden tones of the sunrise lighting you like some wondrous painting.

You lie back in the water, letting yourself float. For a precious, fleeting moment, your worries melt away into the water. Your absent father, your uncertain future... In this moment, with the sun on your face and the smell of salt in your nose, you couldn't be happier.

When you open your eyes and find your footing in the sand again, you see that Aaron is doing just the same; laying back and floating with his eyes closed. For a moment you think of kissing him, and take a step closer. Just as you do, he opens his eyes and stands up.

"You're right," He says, and you look at him questioningly. "I needed this."

You nod, then run your hand over your arms. They're decidedly chilly.

"Home?"

He nods. "On the way, you can tell me your coffee order."

It's all explained away easily enough, and what can't be explained can be cleaned or hidden.

You: a "friend" ended up picking you up and driving you to pick up some Mexican food, hence the leftovers. The white button up is tucked away in the back of your closet, rinsed in the bathroom sink so nobody noticed it in the laundry basket. You were home and in bed by the time your dad made it back home.

Him: the "case" ended up being a dud, but unfortunately Aaron had been halfway through the paperwork when they found out. He pays for the 24 hour car wash in cash, vacuuming the sand out of every crevice. He was starving, so he picked up some takeout on the way home, which is why the car smells like food.

It's almost too easy to slip into your new life of 'crime'. The lies come too quickly, fresh secrets blossoming in clandestine gardens.

It's 2 am when Aaron wakes up, drenched in sweat, with a pounding headache. He's so warm he thinks he must be running a fever, but when he checks with the thermometer, he sees that he isn't. He uses a cool washcloth to wipe down his face.

When he walks back into his bedroom and sees Haley lying there in the dark, he tries not to wish it was you instead. He tries to erase the images his mind had spun in the silver threads of a dream, the way your mouth had dropped open so prettily for him as he eased into you. He tries. He really does.

He scrawls a note to Haley on the notepad on his bedside table, slipping it onto her bedside table so she'll see it when she wakes up.

Didn't sleep well. I'll call in sick when I wake up.

Around 9, he wakes, panicking at first when he sees the time, then remembering he was planning to phone it in. He sees a note on his bedside table, folded into quarters. He'll read it in a while, he thinks. Haley's gone off to work by now.

When he closes his eyes, the images he'd earnestly tried to erase last night came pouring back. You were under him, in his shirt, looking up at him with your trademark smile, ready to burst with a witty comment or bubble of laughter.

He squeezes his eyes shut again. No. This is bad. Your friend's daughter. She's half your age.

It's just a thought. She never needs to know. You're not really doing anything, let alone anything wrong.

He slips his left hand into the front of his joggers, palming himself, surprised that he's already half hard. For a moment, he runs his other hand over his chest, his stomach, then reaching down, stroking his upper thighs, cupping his balls.

It only takes a moment of remembering you on the beach to make up his mind, and he starts fucking his fist, gritting his teeth. It'll be quick and dirty. Just to get it out of the way. Then he'll be over it.

He comes, hot and wet over his fist and his stomach, and he groans softly. He wipes his hand on his skin and reaches for his phone. He feels like he's at law school again; this messy barely-a-man, jerking off, calling in sick to work, ignoring his responsibilities for one day of peace.

"Gideon," He says. "I know, I know. I'm fine. I won't be coming in today."

He glances down at his stomach, still coated in come. He thinks about how your stomach would look... Shower.

"Tomorrow," He says quickly, not fully sure if he's answering the question. "It's a personal day, I'm not sick."

He hangs up without listening to the rest. He doesn't want to know the case details, the people he's neglecting by not showing up.

When he puts the phone back on his nightstand, he remembers the note, and picks it up, expecting to be greeted with some vague sentence of marital pleasantries.

Aaron. This isn't working. I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to say. I want a divorce, is that it? I want more, Aaron. I want the man who promised to love me on my best and worst days. I want a baby. I'm going to stay with my sister. Next time you're out of town on a case, message me so I can come get my things. I don't care about the house or the money. I can't do this anymore.

Before he knows it, he's at Rehoboth Beach. He looks out at the water and he's not sure what to do. He rests his head on the steering wheel, then realizes it's incredibly painful to bend down so low, and glances at the boardwalk. The town is shabby-looking, the paint peeling from the sea air. The coffee shop is shuttered, a 'for lease' sign in the window. The jogger's face is heavy, exhausted. There's debris in the dunes, the remnants of a night of teenage drinking, he's sure. The light of the sun on the ocean is too harsh.

Worst of all, his passenger seat is empty.

#aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #my writing #criminal minds #dbf!hotch #i'm on fire

[theres-a-body-here]

Ghostface with Creep!reader

A new killer has been snatched by the Entity. Something about their cheap Halloween werewolf mask and casual clothing made some of the realms residents uneasy

Was drawn to you from the beginning

Not in the way you'd expect

He was offended

He saw you as a cheap imitation. A copycat

A masked killer that stalks their victims and records their last moments?

You were basically begging to be stabbed

The Entity shut that down real quick before he could push his blade into your liver

He made sure to downright ignore you after that event

That was until he spectated your trials

As the Entity's favorite, he had many "perks". Being able to spectate matches as they happened was one of them

You weren't bad, but you weren't great

He'd grit his teeth whenever you'd prioritize filming the survivors with your video camera instead of injuring them

He'd facepalm whenever you'd swing at a vaulting survivor, only to hit the wall

He needed to intervene

Don't get it wrong. Not for your sake, but for his

Danny hates copycats, but he hates it even more when said copycat is shit at it

Makes him look bad

After your trial, he grabs you by your arm and pulls you deep into the forest

The Entity hasn't stopped him yet, so you guess he isn't trying to kill you again. You let yourself get dragged along

Get ready for a long rant followed by an even longer lesson in stalking

"What the fuck was that? You didn't even bring one slowdown perk. Come on now. If you're going to imitate me, at least do it with finesse." Behind his mask, Danny's lips twisted into a snarl.

You occupied a spot on a toppled tree trunk, engrossed in reviewing recordings on your video camcorder. Evidently, his lecture failed to captivate your attention.

"The Entity seems to be pleased with my performance. If I was doing bad she would've let it be known. Get off my back"

Your voice retained an air of calmness, though the underlying hint of a threat was unmistakable.

Despite how it appeared, you and Danny have started to "hang out" more after that

It usually goes like this: you exit a trial and Ghostface begins to hound you over your mistakes. However, he always gives a few pointers before he leaves for his own trials

He would never admit it, but he slowly started warming up to you

Not even 2 months later, Danny shares his perks with you

"Here you faker. Maybe now you'll finally get more than one kill per trial"

He still criticizes and taunts you as you both sit near the fire with the other killers within hearing range

But it's more friendly than malicious

Amidst the silence around the campfire, Danny couldn't resist taking a playful jab at your looping skills, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I've seen toddlers with better footwork when it comes to catching survivors."

You shot him a mock glare. "Hey, not all of us can be stealthy killers with years of practice."

A chuckle escaped from Danny's masked lips, but before the moment could settle, Frank chimed in with a taunt of his own. "Yeah, Danny's right. I've seen snails with better chasing skills."

The campfire's atmosphere shifted instantaneously. Danny's chuckles ceased, replaced by a tense stillness. His masked gaze settled on Frank with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those around.

Danny's voice was low and controlled, his anger barely contained. "You've got a death wish, asshole?"

Frank seemed to realize his mistake too late, his face paling behind his own mask under the weight of Danny's glare. He stammered, trying to backtrack, "I... I didn't mean..."

But Danny's patience had worn thin. He stood abruptly, the menace radiating from him unmistakable. "You listen, and you listen well. You don't get to insult them. Only I do."

Frank swallowed hard, his bravado evaporating. "I... I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean anything by it."

Danny's gaze didn't waver, his message conveyed without a need for further words. Frank nodded frantically, looking as though he'd just escaped a close encounter with the Entity itself.

Danny's shoulders visibly relaxed as he resumed his seat by the fire, his attention returning to you. His voice regained its familiar tone of teasing, but there was an undertone of possessiveness. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, talking about how you managed to lose a survivor while they were practically walking backward."

You and Danny didn't exactly exemplify the poster image of a perfect and conventional friendship dynamic, but it worked out well enough

Masterlist here

#dbd x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #slasher x reader #dead by daylight x reader #killer!reader #dbd imagines #platonic or romantic

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x you #flufftober 2023 #day 12 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #kinda

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I find You Again): Part 1

I'll be posting parts 1 and 2 right now. The rest should be up later tonight, but I'm gonna be tied up the next five or six hours.

As you can see, we have a title for this fic! (I may drop the parentheses. Been going back and forth on that.)

Summary: Danny and Jason meet shortly after Jason becomes a ghost in the zone and become good friends. This segment will cover their first two meetings.

Word Count: 2k words

----------

Jason sat on the island that appeared around him when he landed in this strange place and stared into the swirling green void. It should have been unsettling, but it felt peaceful. If he closed his eyes, it felt like his dad would be right behind him and Alfred was going to call them in for dinner any minute.

But he was surrounded by silence and all alone.

He screamed just to make a noise and turned away from the void. Behind him a punching bag had appeared. Good. With another yell he went to town on it, practicing all the punches and kicks he’d learned at Batman’s side. Gloves formed over his hands, making him realize his clothes had morphed into his Robin costume.

It just made his punches that much harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at the bag when he realized some of the yells he was hearing weren’t his own.

“And fuck Chaucer!”

Chaucer? What could that be about? But the ridiculousness of it was enough to pull him from his anger. Robin faded as Jason, literary nerd, took his place. No one dissed Chaucer in his hearing. Where was the yelling coming from?

He flew up and looked around before shaking his head. He wasn’t alive anymore and his sight wasn’t his best sense here. Closing his eyes, he sent out his awareness. This close to his island, he could tell whenever anyone was nearby.

And there they were! Close, but not uncomfortably so which was why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Following the feeling, it didn’t take long to find a boy with a backpack on shouting and throwing what looked like green fire at pieces of paper.

“Oi!” he called. “Who’re you to diss Chaucer near my lair?”

“Well maybe if he would just make fucking sense, I wouldn’t have to diss him!” The boy’s hands still glowed green, and Jason fell into a defensive position.

“He does make sense! Not his fault if you’re too dense to know it.” Jason cautiously moved closer, keeping a close eye on the boy’s posture to prepare for an attack. People in this world loved to fight, but while the kid remained wary, he didn’t move to attack. As soon as Jason was close enough, he grabbed one of the papers out of the air.

It felt weird. Both more and less solid that normal paper. Where had this come from? He took his eyes off the boy to skim the paper. It was a page from an exam? Completely covered in red ink. Well-deserved red ink, too.

“Are these your answers?” Jason couldn’t help but look up with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t understand Chaucer, do you?”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have time to study!” complained the boy. He drew up his knees and covered his face with his no-longer-glowing hands. “I’m so tired and it doesn’t make sense and Lancer doesn’t care.”

“Tired? But we’re dead. We don’t need to sleep. I didn’t even know there was a school for ghosts. Where is it? Is it any good?”

The boy pulled his hands away and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You, you don’t know who I am?”

Jason bristled and stood a little taller. “Should I?” he asked. Maybe he should venture out from his lair more. He just felt so uncomfortable anytime he left that he hadn’t bothered. What if someone came and tried to take it from him and he wasn’t there to protect it?

“No! It’s just… Everyone I’ve met has already learned about me from somewhere.” A ring of light surrounded his waist and passed over his body, leaving a living human in his place. Instinctively, Jason raised his hands again and flared his core in warning, but the boy raised his hands and sent out no-harm, peace pulses. “I’m Danny. The halfa. Half-dead, half-alive. Half-ghost, half-human.”

“How…?” Jason didn’t even know how to finish his sentence and let it trail unfinished. Though, he had seen people come back to life when he was Robin. So, maybe it did make sense.

Danny shrugged. “My parents are scientists studying ghosts. They built a portal to the zone and because I was stupid, it turned on while I was inside. Thousands of volts of electricity and ectoplasm killed and revived me at the same time.”

“That’s why the paper feels weird…” Jason grabbed one of them again and ran his fingers along it. “It’s from Earth.”

“Yep. My latest failed English test. I just don’t have the time to read the books. And when I do, I don’t see the same things Mr. Lancer swears are there! Or I don’t understand them.” Danny sighed and rubbed his face again. “I hate it. I was a straight A student before I died.”

Jason looked between the paper and the boy. “Why has it been so much harder since you died?”

“So many other ghosts are trying to get through the portal to spend time on Earth. And when they do, they hurt people or cause property damage or try and hunt me for sport. I have to stop them. Even if it’s the middle of the night or during class.”

“Oh, you’re a superhero. I was a hero, too, before I died.” He let his Robin uniform replace the civilian clothes and grinned at Danny. “I’m Jason. I’d say nice to meet you, but I can’t like anyone who disses Chaucer.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Do you have the book with you?” asked Jason, nodding his head at Danny’s backpack.

Danny shrugged it off and pulled out a book. “Yeah, why?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.” He turned and headed back to his lair, gesturing for Danny to follow him. On his island was a building, the outside rather plain, like any run down apartment building in Gotham. But the door led directly to Alfred’s kitchen in the manor. He held it open and waved Danny through.

The boy, still in human form, looked around curiously. “You know, no one’s ever let me come to their island before. Or enter their door.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I need to prove you wrong about Chaucer and no reason we can’t be comfortable as we do. And if I change your mind, then we can be friends!”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

“I take you outside and we fight it out like proper ghosts.” Jason grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Danny laughed. “All right, do your best.”

“So, the page I saw was full of questions on the Wife of Bath and her prologue and tale, so we’ll start there. To really understand her, you have to know what women dealt with in the fourteenth century…”

-----

Jason tried not to worry when Danny didn’t come back right away despite promising to return for more English tutoring. Jason also planned to help him figure out how to balance a civilian and hero life. He looked over the lesson plans for both English and martial arts training that he’d made for the hundredth time.

He was going to start with how to safely fall. Just as Dick had taught him back when Bruce first brought him home. Was Dick happy that he had Bruce to himself again now that Jason was gone? Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he looked around for something to distract himself. Bread. He could make bread. Alfred taught him how and kneading was excellent stress relief.

He’d just finished kneading and set the dough in a covered bowl to proof when he felt the unmistakable shiver that meant someone was coming close to his haunt. His Robin uniform replaced jeans and a t-shirt as he flew out the kitchen towards the intruder.

Only to laugh and relax when he saw Danny.

“So, the halfa returns! I was starting to think you didn’t like me.” Jason said it with a grin to prove it was a joke, even as something in his core relaxed.

“Sorry, life’s been hectic. Do you know Skulker? He got through the portal again and it took me three days to get him contained. And as soon as I did, Technus was out. And then my parents built a new defense system for the house that I had to dismantle before it could kill me. Again.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What was that last one?”

Danny paused. “Did I not tell you about my parents?”

“Not really. Just that they study ghosts.”

“Hunt, more like. They build ghost weapons to destroy ghosts. It’s why I haven’t told them about me. They’d accept me, I’m sure of it. But… then they talk about how they’d like to rip a ghost molecule-by-molecule and I can’t get the words out.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “And I thought I won the lottery for terrible birth parents. But at least I had Bruce and Alfred. You should contact the Justice League, get help. I can tell you how.”

But Danny just waved a hand in the air. “A year and a half ago, I would’ve jumped at the offer. But I’ve got it under control now. And I don’t want anyone with powers in Amity. What if they get overshadowed? Then I’d be fighting someone with both meta abilities and ghost abilities.”

“Overshadowed?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard the term before.

“You know, when you take over a human’s body and control it.”

Jason blinked. “We can do that?”

“You… didn’t know? How long have you been a ghost?”

Jason tried to consider. It was impossible to tell time in the Realms. The area off his island was always the same swirling green with no sun or moon in sight. And he wasn’t sure how long it had taken to gain consciousness after dying. He didn’t think it was immediate. “I’m… not sure. I died December 1st XX. What’s the date on Earth now?”

“So recently? I’ve never met such a young ghost before. Its only been a few weeks. Today’s the twentieth.”

That wasn’t possible. Jason shook his head. “No, that can’t be. I know I’ve been here longer than that. I know how long it takes me to read a book and how many I’ve read.”

“Time in the zone can be a bit wonky.” Danny clasped Jason’s arm. The gesture made him flinch, though he knew it was supposed to be comforting. Danny’s arms fell to his side again. “Sorry.”

Needing to change the subject, Jason asked, “So overshadowing, huh? What else can ghosts do?”

The grin Danny gave him convinced him he had the right idea. “Oh, you have no idea. How about instead of whatever you were going to show me, I teach you to fight like a ghost?”

Jason got an overwhelming feeling of fun-excitement-mischief that weren’t his own and his eyes widened. “Can I sense your emotions? Is that another ghost thing?”

Danny laughed and it was filled with so much enjoyment that Jason couldn’t even be offended. “Dude, you really don’t know anything. We can project emotions to other ghosts. It’s easy. Think something at me.”

Jason bit his lip as he considered what to do. His eyes lit up and he tapped Danny on the nose as he thought hard game-tag-play-fun before flying away as fast as he could.

Danny shouted after him, “You are so not getting away from me!”

As expected, Danny used the game to show him all the cool things ghosts could do. He could shoot energy beams now! Just like Kori! Or, well he would be just like her once he got a bit better at controlling them.

After who knows how long, they ended up lying on their backs on the grass, exhausted from the exertion. Jason wasn’t even sure who was It anymore.

It had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he cared to remember.

----------

Next

Have all the fluff. I love them so much.

Not much of a tag list yet since this is so new, but I can add more on if you'd like.

@britcision, @echoednonny

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #dead on main #jason will throw hands if you diss chaucer in his hearing #or he may convert you to a fan #but you will not end the meeting in the same shape you started it in #and now they both have new friends

[jellyfishsthings]

This is my first ever fic so...my English are not that good ,since they are not my native language

Warnings: minors do not interact, female reader, no use of y/n, smut, CAR SEX, oral sex (f receiving),teasing, thigh thumping, pussy slapping, p in v, WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT ... aftercare <3

The mentioned song:

My favorite song is blaring in Remus' car radio and we sing our hearts out as we return from our movie date. We took a detour on our way home and now we are heading to the Cliff Park and overlook the city as every light shuts down as its inhabitants fall asleep.

We arrive at our destination and he turns off the lights. We look at each other and start giggling like crazy people.

"That had to be the worst movie we ever watched." I say laughingly.

"Really because if i remember correctly you couldn't stop laughing over those horrible jokes." He says as he fixes me with a horrified look. "Remind me why I want to be in a relationship with you?"

"Because you love me and will treasure me until the end of time. And the only reason I was laughing was your horrible jokes. Seriously I have gotten so used to them that now this awkward laughing has become a coping mechanism." I say back at him and smirk triumphantly.

"From all those absurd words that left your mouth only few are true." He answers without stopping and reaches over and draws me closer for a kiss. One long and rough kiss that leaves me breathless when I lean back. "I do love you and I will treasure you until the end of time. And I will worship you, as I have done multiple times already, and will continue doing so." He continues without missing a bit and sounding as normal as ever.

His words knock the breath out of my lungs more effectively than his previous kiss. I rest against my seat, firing a look his way and wiggle my eyebrows as I lower my car seat. He unbuckles his seat belt and grabs me to cover his body with mine. He starts kissing me again and I open my mouth practically demanding him to make out with me. He complies happily and sucks harshly at my bottom lip as if saying I'm in charge here, just before he breaks our kiss.

He places his hands on my hips and starts grinding them against his. A satisfied sigh leaves me as he repositions me on his thigh and he starts bouncing me and marks my neck. My forehead glues to his as I open my mouth in a silent scream and let him guide me to my high. My pleasure though is short lived as I accidentally hit the steering wheel and the horn echoes. We look at each other and we burst out laughing.

He wraps his hands around me and lays me in the backseat. He hooks his fingers in my trousers and throws them somewhere near my feet. He spreads my legs and starts running a finger on top of my panties, teasing me, pulling them even higher, giving me a minimum friction of what is going to follow in a few minutes. After he is done torturing me, he rests on his knees and throws my feet on his shoulders as he lowers his head on my heat and starts sucking my clit on top of my panties along with licking and wetting them even more. I whine and whimper as it starts becoming too much, though he doesn't stop and tightens his grip on my hips and fondles my ass, having only one goal, making me come undone as many times as possible. And he does just that. I scream as I reach my high and he circles my clit in the very clear shape of a heart as I calm down.

"Meanie" I whisper to him. He gloats as he answers "Yeah, but you like it that way. Your body responses betray you my love." I hum agreeing with his retort and make grubby hands at him and pouting my lips. He gets the message and leans down to kiss me sweetly on the lips, but I startle as I feel a hand slapping my sensitive cunt. An involuntary moan slips out of my mouth and I look up at him as he stares at me innocently and rips my panties.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Sounds out just before he brings his hand down on my cunt, overstimulating my nerves and filling me with pleasuring pain. One, two, three… ten times and stops as I beg him. "Please what, my dove?" He asks mockingly, just to spite me even though he knows exactly what I am asking for.

I stare daggers at him and thankfully he doesn't give me a hard time. He removes my shirt and my bra along with his clothes and enters me without a single warning or changing our position. He fills me to the hilt and I fill his tip nudging my stomach, watching as it reforms my skin in that area. He draws back a few centimeters and slams back into me, his balls hitting my ass. He rests on his elbows, right above me and continues slamming into me at a brutal pace. My hands try to find something steady to hold onto and and travel towards the window, where I leave a very prominent handprint, in its fogged surface from our rapid breaths.

The only things I can hear is Remus' and mine labored breathing, accompanied with moans and grunts and a lovely melody.

The world was on fire; nobody can save me but you.

My favorite song still plays in the background and as we both reach our peak, we whisper these lyrics, adorned with love and confessing one again our feelings for each other.

My eyes roll back and my mind fogs. A nose nudges mine and I slowly open my eyes and see those beautiful green eyes staring back at me full with devotion. We lay on our sides and stay tangled as we study each other and talk hoarsely after our little adventure.

word count: 1.022

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #Spotify