#and She shoots me this strained smile because hey

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

💐

#ya know? I think I figure out that ‘girls are really pretty’ during late high school #i had strength and conditioning (how i found out i loved lifting but hate ‘gym’) #and all the girls were separated into groups-and two groups to each station #on this particular day #we had to do squats #i was struggling with mine and so was the girl in front of me but not nearly as much #we both go down at the same time but as we go up—I look up and since her group is *right and I mean right* in front of me #i could reach a hand out and touch her #i make eye contact—she’s looking at me and I’m looking at her #and She shoots me this strained smile because hey #these weights are heavy? am i right! #and i think that’s the first time my heart skipped a beat

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[opluffys]

Hey ! I love your stuff ! What a bout a pov when Ghost does spicy things whit the fem reader , but she is pregnant ! Xoxo

hi thank you so much!!! <3 very very sorry for answering this so late!! i just saw it now :( but i hope that you like it and that i wrote what you had in mind :) <3

•

-nsfw/smut-

ghost has gotten lucky enough to be home with you for the last stretch of your pregnancy. he wanted to be there for you to ensure that you didn't have to lift a finger. there were many times where you had to wake him in the dead of the night, just to shyly ask him to run to the store for your off the wall cravings.

but ghost would always make sure that you were satisfied, gently pushing his fingers inside your wet pussy when you grew needy. or he’d lower himself to his knees and eating at you like a man starved. but he hasn't been overly intimate with you in a while, ever since you started getting later and later into your pregnancy. truth be told, ghost didn't want to hurt you, he would never forgive himself, especially if it was for something as superficial as his own pleasure. as long as you’re appeased, he’s happy.

right now, you're standing in front of your mirror, changing into your nightclothes. ghost silently watches as you do your little routine that takes longer and longer each day- it's the only thing he's not allowed to help you with. he's downright staring at you, that ethereal glow that usually surrounds you has increased tenfold.

and he can't take it anymore.

he hasn't been able to for the last couple of weeks, either. he excuses himself to your shared restroom, not missing your concerned glance towards him. he quickly locks the door behind him and stares at his own reflection. he runs a hand over his face, tired and rugged, so undoubtedly him.

he can feel how strained his pants are, lowering them just enough so his cock hits his abdomen. he braces a single hand on the porcelain sink, wrapping his hand around his painfully hard length. he stifles a groan, gradually beginning to set a slow pace.

and oh, ghost wishes that it was you. picturing your pretty face and familiar facial expressions as he drives his cock deep into you. he can practically feel your nails digging into the muscle of his back, creating deep crescent marks that fade away with time.

his head tips back as he swipes a thumb over his tip, pre-cum spilling forth. he's unable to contain the low groan that leaves him, pure euphoria shooting through his veins.

it's short lived as he hears a knock at the door.

"simon?" your light voice reaches his ears, sounding concerned, "you okay..?"

he hesitates before answering, not making a move to open the door. a slight sense of shame fills him as he makes eye contact with that glittering band on his ring finger.

"yeah, s'alright love."

you can tell he's lying.

"can you open the door for me?"

he can't tell you no, can he?

ghost quickly makes himself look decent before opening the door, allowing you to look at him. your eyes trail lower before returning back up into his honey and clouded eyes. and he damns your intuition, because he’s sure you knew what he was doing.

“wanna help you, simon.” your hand gently brushes against the noticeable bulge in his pants. he doesn’t know what kind of hold you have over him, but that small and singular touch from you has him reeling.

“don’t-“ he lets out a shaky breath at feeling you continue, “don’t wanna hurt you, sweet girl.”

he hears you laugh, such an addicting sound that graces his ears and repeats in his head. your hand laces with his and you lead him back to the bedroom, sitting him down on the large bed.

“you’ve been gentle before.” you take a seat atop his thighs and not facing him, your clothed cunt rubbing against his cock. he instinctively places his hands on your hips, watching as you turn around to look down at him with a warm smile. your hand reaches down to push all of his necessary clothing out of the way.

your hips rise as you move your own undergarments to the side, raising yourself further to sink down his cock. it’s been a while since he’s stuffed you so full of him, a quiet whimper leaving you while he’s full on moaning your name.

“fuck, fuck you feel so fuckin’ good love.” he assists you ride him, lifting you as if you weigh absolutely nothing. his voice is strained, and you know he’s holding back just for you and your well-being. it makes your heart swell as you lace a hand with his, holding it tightly.

ghost stares, utterly mesmerised as he watches your smaller body accommodate him inside of you. he feels your cunt squeeze him tightly, your free hand curling into the sheets. your sounds start to grow as you fervently chase after your own bliss- ghost not at all minding and just glad that you were comfortable enough.

ghost is usually very good at hiding his own sounds, normally quiet so he can hear you instead. but when you just feel so phenomenal around him, so snug, warm and tight around his cock- he can’t form a single coherent thought in his mind. his moans are low and guttural, muttering praises to you with every breath he can draw. it makes your head swim, not accustomed to seeing him like this, so desperate and overly infatuated with you.

but you can definitely get used to it.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #fem reader

[princessconsuela120]

☁ HOLD ME CLOSE AND HOLD ME FAST ☁

— ☁

Summary: You fall asleep on Ominis' shoulder during class.

Warnings: Cursing, fluffy fluff fluffy

Author's Note: I love this so much. @clownfacepancakes120 this one's for you :}

— ☁

IT WAS A WELL KNOWN FACT IN HOGWARTS THAT HISTORY OF MAGIC CLASS WAS INCREDIBLY BORING. So boring in fact, that when you begun school, Professor Fog warned you to purchase a pillow in hogsmeade for said class. You didn’t understand him at first, but now as you sat in class, listening to the gravelly voice of professor bins as he floating through the aisles, your eyes straining to stay awake, you wished you had brought your pillow.

“You know you’re incredibly slick, darling.” Ominis said sarcastically, causing you to shoot your head up at the sound of his voice.

“Hmm?” You mumbled, already feeling your eyes grow heavy again.

“I can’t even see you and I can hear the way you're trying to stay up right now.”

He chuckled to himself, hearing uou scoff as you shifted in your seat.

“Am not. I’m just, focusing super hard.” You lied, your head already falling into his shoulder.

“Mhmm.” He teased, before you scoffed, not having the energy to fight back.

Ominis couldn’t help but smile at the feeling, loving everytime you’d lean your head against his shoulder. The two of you started dating in your 6th year, not noticing your feelings until after you defeated rankrok. Ominis realized the fear he felt when you fought came from love. You two had been dating ever since, after Sebastian forced the two of you to get together, insisting that Ominis wouldn’t stop mopping about his love for you.

So now here uou we’re, sat with your head against his shoulder, fast asleep as Professor Bins muttered none sense.

“Darling?” He whispered, turning to look at you when he heard your soft snores from beside him.“Silly girl, you’re drooling.” He chuckled, wiping your chin as you shifted against him. He placed a soft kiss against your head, jumping slightly when Sebastian laid against his other shoulder, a loud ground shaking snore erupting from his chest.

“Wake up you oaf! You’re snoring like a troll!” He yelled, shoving Sebastian, trying not to wake you in the process.

“Hey! Why does she get to sleep?!” Sebastian yelled, looked at Sebastian angrily as he threw a hand out at you.

“Because I love her.” He replied, rolling his eyes as if it were obvious.

“Unbelievable. You know, I used to be the one who got to sleep on your shoulder.” Sebastian grumbled, huffing angrily as he folded his arms.

“I never let you sleep on my shoulder.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows at Sebastian as the freckles boy pouted, slamming his chin in his palm on the table.

“Yeah well, what happens while you’re sleeping can’t hurt you.” He grumbled, making Ominis roll his eyes.

“You’re such a pillock Sebastian.” Ominis. teased, running his fingers gently through your hair.

“And you my friend, are incredibly whipped.” Sebastian said, patting Ominis’ shoulder, making him smile.

“I know.”

Ominis smiles down at you as you snuggle closer into his shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. Your soft snores filth is ears, a much better sound in his eyes than Professor Bins mumbling, as butterflies grew in his stomach at the warm feeling you radiated.

#ominis #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy

[cosmal]

✪ — *94 from the prompts list with any of the marauders you see fit lolzies 🫶

i'll hold it

summary — james gets you in his lap when there's no seats.

content — james potter x fem!afab!reader, drunk!james

You can't find your friends anywhere. The local you're at is packed, everyone squashed in like sardines to watch the footy finals. You despise Sirius for convincing you to come. But not as much so when you spot James across the beer garden.

He spots you at the same time and shoots his hand up in the air, giving you a wave. You try to hide your smile in your scarf and fail miserably.

You push through a group of people and reach their table. "Hello," you smile.

You push your thighs into the edge of the table and try to avoid the rings of sticky drink on the wood. "Hello," James beams and you melt like the ice in his glass. He's been drinking vodka and squash by the looks of it.

"Y/N!' Sirius calls from the end of their table as you expected. You look to Emmeline for refuge and she smacks him in the arm. "Hello, lovely! Please, save me, James won't shut up about you."

James tries to hide his embarrassment in his empty glass. This time, Frank smacks him to keep him quiet. You giggle and it has James relaxing.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say to everyone. Sirius seems too preoccupied in Remus's side already for you to feel too guilty. "Bus strikes."

You didn't think you were too late, but by the looks of Lily's flushed cheeks and how many empty glasses don their table, you think they've been at it for a while.

It's only now you realise there's no room at their table. The bench and the seats are all taken up. You feel awkward suddenly and decide to go find an empty chair, no matter how impossible that seems.

James grabs your wrist and you startle. He's pouting when you turn back around. "Where ya goin'?" he asks. He seems drunker than you thought when he blinks slowly. Eyelashes touch his cheeks when his eyes droop for a second.

"To find another chair," you tell him, smiling. You want to melt with the way he's looking at you.

He lets go of your wrist and scoots back in his seat, tapping his thighs. It's more of a smack where his thighs strain against the denim of his jeans. "No offence, lovely," he says, smiling like he can't help it. "But I think you should sit in my lap.''

"James," you giggle. You turn serious when you think he's not kidding around. "You don't want me to do that, I'll squash you."

James scoffs indignantly and you think you catch him rolling his eyes. Before you can even think about moving off again, he's got his hands at your waist. He tugs you down until you're landing in his lap and your feet are dangling from the ground. He's big, firm, and you think you don't have a single problem with being manhandled like this.

You have a thought, it's so quick but it's still there, but you think he'd be able to throw you around. You shake it from your head before you think you might pass out and focus on how he feels beneath you. His fucking thighs.

"James," you sigh, keeping your hands on his shoulders. "James, c'mon, be serious. You'll get uncomfortable in no time."

"Will not," he hiccups and you realise he's still got his hands spread over your hips. Where he bunches your skirt until it rides up your thighs and shows the ladder in your tights you were trying to hide.

"Yes, you will."

He sits his chin on your shoulder. He's so close that you shiver when he speaks. "I'm gonna prove you so wrong, babe."

Babe. "What if you need to pee?"

"I'll hold it."

"You've been drinking."

James brightens up a bit, looking half-offended. "You think because I'm drunk, that I'm incontinent?"

"Hey, Prongs!" Sirius calls out for James and he rolls his eyes again. "Hey- remember that one time after you got smashed at The Yorkey's?!"

"Shut up!"

"Yeah- yeah when you-"

"Stop fucking talking!''

He flushes with embarrassment. Smothering a groan in your shoulder. You cage your hands over his head and tug at his curls. "Oh, my poor baby," you sigh, half giggling. James shivers.

"Please don't listen to him," he groans and sits back up. He's still just as flustered. You mourn the loss of his curls under your fingers terribly.

"I never do," you tell him.

He takes a breath. "Good."

After a moment, you allow him to relax a little. You turn around to push his glasses up his nose after your shoulder had nudged them to sit crookedly. He'd been too embarrassed to fix them, clearly.

You lean in and say, "Were you really so drunk you wet yourself?"

"What!?" James gawps, sitting up so straight he almost knocks Alice behind him. "No, Y/N! I wasn't."

You do spend the entire night in his lap. He also spends the entire night hiding in your shoulder.

#james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x shy!reader #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter x reader fluff #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter blurbs #james potter drabble

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

Imagine: Mike is back at his mall security guard job, and reader works at the support desk, but more specifically; is in charge of the lost and found.

1st time was because he found an forgotten phone (or something), and was told to take it to the lost and found, where he first met reader.

Then he starts being extra vigilent when walking around, looking for any item that looks misplaced or lost, no matter how unimportant, just as an excuse to go to the lost and found to talk to reader

(Ive never done this before, so sorry if i did anything wrong!)

lost and found | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none! just a nice little fluffy piece about a sad sad man lol <3

to the asker, i hope you know that i saw this in my inbox and literally squealed, i was waiting for someone to drop a mike request

i hope that this is to your liking, i was going back and forth trying to decide how to start this off and coming up with tiny little ideas to add

also this probably goes without saying, but i have never worked at a mall nor interacted with mall staff if i can help it so if anything sounds off, feel free to correct me

to anyone who also writes on tumblr, pls tell me how you avoid using y/n, i tried to work around it as much as possible but some times just called for it

you hold your polite (albeit strained) smile to the blubbering woman walking away, unsure what to do with yourself as whoever she stands with rubs her back in comfortable circles. another lost wedding ring, gone to the test of time as long as the mall shall live: it's not that you didn't feel bad but after wedding ring #120, you kind of start to get used to the routine of things. lost and found wasn't your first choice when you first started working here but as long as you were getting a paycheck, you weren't going to complain. your side of the mall was rarely visited anyway, giving you the opportunity to do plenty of people watching when you weren't rummaging through piles of lost sweaters and purses.

you let out a quiet sigh once the customers are gone, sitting back in your seat and picking up the book you had once been reading; not like there was anything better to do. fully immersed in your book, you don't even notice the footsteps coming up to the counter. "um, hey." you jolt a bit at the sound of a voice, your gaze snapping from your book to whoever is standing only a few feet away. you have to hold back your reaction when you meet his eyes, tired but trying their best to look interested; it takes you a second to realize this is security and not another customer. "shoot, sorry." you mumble with an awkward smile as you sit up, resting your book in your lap to give the man in front of you your full attention. "how can i help you?" with a thin-lipped smile, he holds up a purse; from the looks of the logo on it, it's obvious this is designer.

you whistle as you take the purse from him, examining it with raised eyebrows. "well, you don't see this everyday. someone should come back for it, thanks." you say, flashing a grin at the security guard as he gives you a much more genuine smile. "no problem. if i had known lost and found got to see stuff like this, i would have put in to work over here instead." he says with a chuckle, folding his hands in front of him as he leans on the counter. "oh, we don't get interesting stuff that often, i promise you." you say with a roll of your eyes, putting the purse behind the counter; anyone in their right mind would come back for this thing. "enlighten me." before you can say something, the security guard outstretches a hand to you with a smile. "i'm mike, by the way. i work security." he says as you shake his hand, raising your eyebrows at him playfully. "(y/n). to give you some insight into how very little happens here, try and guess how many gachapon toys i have behind this counter."

and just like that, you've made a friend; not that you'd admit that mike wasn't sore on the eyes this soon. you just found it easy to talk to him considering you had never seen him around up until this point. after your first meeting, mike would regularly stop by whether he had something lost to leave with you or not: if you were lucky, he would even join you for lunch or walk you out at the end of a shift. little by little, you couldn't help but anticipate his arrival, the same relaxed smile always on his face much unlike the first time he'd approached you.

it's been almost a month by this point, you've had so many lost items deposited to you that after a while, throwing things away or reselling them (specific orders from your boss who was rather shocked at how many items you had in the back room) was required after a certain amount of time: not like anyone came back for them anyway. today was no different than the rest, the sounds of buzzing conversation in the distance from the more crowded areas of the mall. you pop the gum in your mouth as you paint your thumbnail a light-yellow color, scrunching your nose a bit at the smell of the nail polish. you blow softly on it, your eyes glancing up to scan your surroundings. what you see nearly makes you laugh. mike is walking over, seemingly at his normal pace before something catches his attention; whatever it is, you most definitely can't see it. when he stoops down to inspect it, he makes a face that you can only decipher as him being slightly annoyed. he catches you looking at him, an embarrassed smile on his face as he makes the rest of the walk of shame over to you when he realizes he's been caught.

"well, what is it this time? a broken watch? some cap with an unexplainable stain on it?" "what kind of person do you take me for? i'm just a faithful employee trying to do my job." mike says as he extends his arms with a playful smile, making you role your eyes as you abandon your nail polish to look up at the man in front of you. you close your eyes as you hold out your hand to him expectantly, waiting for him to drop something into your palm; after how often he came around, you made it something of a guessing game as to what mike was going to bring out. surprisingly, it's small, definitely plastic from the muted sound it makes when it lands in your hand. "it's a toy." "warm enough. you can open your eyes." you start to say something, opening your eyes and inspecting the item in your hand before you pause.

a small, plastic cat sits on a swing, it's paws holding on to the small chains attached to a brightly colored tab; it's obvious you could hang this off a shelf. your cheeks redden a bit as a sheepish smile grows on your face, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as your other hand holds it up to inspect it further. you'd never actually stopped at the capsule toy machines yourself, starting your collection only a few weeks after starting your job when they popped up so frequently at the counter. "you like it?" you blink at mike as he smiles fondly at you, one hand propping his chin up; you swear you can see a hint of smugness in his gaze. "it's..yeah. it's cute." you say, unable to help the way you giggle a bit as you hang the toy on the edge of the counter. "good. better hope no one come's looking for it." he chuckles softly, his eyes dropping from yours for a moment as you stare in delight at the newest addition to your collection. "i wouldn't give it to them anyway. not knowing you got it for me." mike's lips part a bit in shock, a scoff of disbelief leaving him despite the smile on his face as you smile up at him knowingly. he tries to defend himself, stuttering to say something before you're called by one of your coworkers. "duty calls." you giggle as you rise from your seat, pretending not to notice the way mike is still trying to recover from being caught as you make your way over to your coworker, a smile tugging at your lips.

SECOND ONE SHOT IN A WEEK HOLY MOLY THIS IS NEW to the asker, i hope you enjoyed this, i tried to add my own little spin to things just to give it that little extra romantic flair lol BUTTT i hope that all of you are having a good rest of your day/night/afternoon and stay safe! :D

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #oneshot #x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

[biancadjarin]

thinking about Bully!Eddie

passing you notes in class

18+

“Hey nerd.” Eddie whispers into your ear from his seat behind you in algebra. You try to ignore him, eyes staying fixed on the teacher at the front of the class. He tugs on one of your long braids causing your neck to strain back before he leans back in his seat with a laugh.

A couple minutes later a folded up note is being pressed onto the edge of your desk. You shoot him a glare as he smirks at you and winks as he mouths “read it.”

You roll your eyes as you unwrap it quietly, not wanting to get in trouble for passing notes.

“I heard you moan when I pulled your hair. You liked that didn’t you?”

You scoff and crumble the note before tossing it back to him. He laughs and opens it up, writing a new line.

“Ok ok but I think I need a tutor ;) Your place after school sound good for our first lesson?”

“Maybe if you’d actually pay attention and take notes, you wouldn’t be failing.” You scribble in your girly handwriting before discreetly passing the note back to Eddie.

He huffs out a laugh before writing his response.

“Meet me by my van after school.”

“We can’t go to my house, Eddie. Not happening.”

You pass the note back and hope that’s the end of it. As your fingers graze his, you both linger there for a second. He lets the pads of his guitar string calloused fingers caress the tips of yours and you instantly feel tingles. Your eyes look down at your hands and he has to hold back a smile when he sees the way your cheeks blush.

He opens the note and reads it as the teacher catches the both of you.

“Munson!” His head shoots up, your eyes scan the classroom, hoping no one noticed you were passing notes to him.

“What’s so interesting that you and Miss Meyers can’t wait to discuss it after class?”

You slump in your chair, wanting to disappear, wishing you wouldn’t have fallen for his immature tricks. I should’ve just ignored him. Kept taking my notes and he would’ve left me alone. Except you know that’s a lie. He wouldn’t have.

“Oh y/n was just asking if I wanted to study together after school, she thinks she can help me with this chapter.”

Your eyes grow wide as the blush on your cheeks covers your whole face. You wish you could just crawl out of the room and disappear. Why is he doing this??

“Oh well that’s nice. You could use the extra study time. You both could. Your last quiz score wasn’t up to your usual standards Miss Meyers.” You teacher chastised. Kill me now.

You got a D on your last quiz because every time the teacher looked away, Eddie ripped your paper from your desk to copy your answers. After you got halfway through the quiz, you started to circle wrong answers on purpose just so he’d get a bad grade too.

After the class bell rang, you and Eddie walked out of class with the rest of the students. He followed you to your locker, staring at your ass the entire time.

“You wearing a thong, baby?” He asked as he crowded behind you while you spun the combination into your lock. He left little room between you and the locker so you had to back up into him a bit to swing it open. “Mmm yeah baby, just like that. My lap was feeling empty.” He purrs as his hands grab your hips harshly.

“Ugh Eddie please.” You say as you grab what you need for your next class. His big brown eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint. He leans his face close to you, sniffing at your hair. “Yeah, beg me for it baby, say my name again.” He says into your neck. “Gonna have you screaming it later in your room.” His breath is warm and minty on your skin, it feels so good and his words are making you wet but you try to act disgusted. You push back against him but he doesn’t go far. “So do you?”

You look at him confused. “Do I what? Want to study with you? No!”

“Oh you’re ‘studying’ with me.” He says using air quotes. “No doubt about that.. I meant do you wear thongs?”

You scoff, “You’re disgusting, Eddie.” You say as you slam your locker closed. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Gimme a kiss and I’ll let you go.” He whispers against your lips. You want to kiss him. Everything in your body is telling you to lean forward and see if his lips feel as soft as they look. But you can’t because if you do, he wins.

“I’m not kissing you Eddie!” You say, maneuvering out of his strong grip. “If you really want me to help you study, you can come over after school but we’re only studying. Ok?”

He smiles wide as the class bell rings. “Ok, sweet angel. Whatever you say.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

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more bully!eddie here

masterlist here

#eddie munson #bully!eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #bully!eddie #bully!eddie munson #bully!eddie x y/n

[boxfullaturtles]

Donnie, number 19

hehehehehhehe angst for donnie

time to Good Genes Rise Donatello again lol

this one got long because it contains my favorite tropes, non-consensual body modification and painful transformations uwu

---------

“I did warn you turtley-boos to keep out of my business,” Big Mama coos at them and Raph dearly wants to punch her in her face.

But Donnie is down and Leo’s trying to tend to him and Raph’s not stupid enough to think that he and Mikey alone can take on Big Mama. Especially when Raph is preoccupied by the fact that Donnie’s been shot.

Big Mama's still got the gun in her hand--not a human gun, something yokai that glows a sickly yellow and looks like it has teeth. Donnie's sitting on the floor, breathing hard and curling away from Leo. And Leo is trying to pry Donnie's fingers away from the bloody spot and Raph is so, so angry. And scared. They've never been shot before.

"Shame, firearms aren't really my frivvly-forte," Big Mama hums, "I was aiming for the little one. Ah well, the result will still be the same~" She smiles at them and waves the gun in a farewell, "It will keep you busy for a bitty-while. Ta-ta~"

Raph's not about to just let her walk away and he makes to launch after her with a snarl. A painful cry from Donnie and a worried order from Leo stop him in his tracks, making him stagger and turn. He's never heard Donnie make a sound like that before and it makes his heart lurch in his chest.

Donnie's left arm--the one that's been shot--is shaking and spasming, the tremor running through his entire body. Worse still are the veins of toxic yellow seeping from the bullet wound. Donnie is panting, gasping for air, trying to hold his own arm still as it jitters at his side.

Then, horrifically, his arm bulges.

A scream of pain tears out of Donnie and he doubles over on the ground, grinding his forehead into gritty cement. His injured arm is jutted out in front of him, fingers dancing across the floor. The swell in his upper arm, right beneath the bullet hole, wriggles and spreads, pressing outward. Donnie screams again as his arm bulges, gets bigger, straining the elbow pad until it threatens to tear. And Raph realizes that Donnie's arm isn't just swelling, it's packing on muscle.

There's an awful CRACK and Donnie's scream hits higher, scratching the air. His arm is growing. It's growing bigger and longer and it's wrong, it's so very wrong.

The change reaches Donnie's wrist and he lets out a screaming sob, his other hand coming to paw at his vambrace tech. He leaves smears of his own blood over the screen. His skin is bunching against the metal, trying to stretch and grow, hampered by Donnie's tech. Leo dives forward and pries it off and the growth shoots down Donnie's arm. His hand slams into the floor and veins bulge from the back, bones cracking and popping as they grow bigger. His nail thicken and sharpen into claws.

A monstrous, mutated arm is swollen from Donnie's shoulder, his violet markings stretched like streaks of paint. His arm is as big as Raph's. Maybe even bigger.

"I...is it...stopping?" Mikey's voice is trembling, his hands pressed against his mouth. His watery eyes are staring helplessly at his brother.

"...Dee?" Leo ventures carefully, "Donnie? Hey, come on, buddy, speak to me."

The only thing he gets in answer is a wheezing, whispered, "...help."

Something creaks and Donnie groans. It takes Raph a moment to realize that what he's hearing is the strain of metal.

"His battle shell," He murmurs to himself and then, louder, "His battle shell! Take it off!" He doesn't wait for Leo, just leaps forward and grabs the shoulder clamps of Donnie's precious battle shell. He knows there's a release button on there somewhere but he can't be bothered to look for it. He just mutters a quick apology and snaps the clamps off, tossing them aside and wrenching the shell from Donnie's back.

"Oh god..." Leo sounds like he's being strangled.

Donnie's soft shell is rippling and churning. He lets out another agonizing groan as the little ridges along his spine stretch up and out into sharp spikes. The spikes rise off his arched back and then fold back down again, flexing like tiny wings, stretching new muscles that are forcing themselves into place. The edges of his shell spread, curving into bony spikes, and a sharp, snapping clicking starts as Donnie's spine lengthens.

He's sobbing now, gasping for air as his body warps. There's an awful CRUNCH and Donnie jolts, his cries turning into a breathless gargle when his plastron bows outward, new scutes wedging themselves into existence.

It's spreading faster now.

The belt at Donnie's waist snaps as his lithe frame widens, bulking up with muscle and mass. The elbow pad and glove on his left arm have split at the seams and the ones on his right are going to follow soon enough. His neck thickens, veins pulsing along its length and Donnie throws his head back, choking, eyes rolling in pain.

"Do something...!" Mikey whimpers and then grabs Raph's arm, shaking him, "Do something! Do something! Help him! Raph!"

But Raph doesn't know what to do. He can only stand there in cold terror as his brother's body is twisted. Raph looks at Leo but Leo is on his knees, clutching Donnie's wrist tech to his chest, sinking deep into shock as he watches what's happening. None of them know what to do. None of them know how to stop this.

Donnie's breathing has become deeper, heavier, huffing bellowing growls from the expanding cavity of his broad chest. His next scream comes out in a shaky roar. His tail clicks with new vertebrae as it lengthens, thickening and growing small spikes until its longer than Raph's tail. Donnie digs his feet into the cement, whining and snarling as bones and muscles bulge and grow. His knees break into a new shape with a sickening, wet SNAP that makes Raph feel sick, fresh joints jamming into place, toes growing bigger, claws scraping the floor.

There's a pause, a second where everything holds its breath, like the changes are settling into place. Donnie's normal face looks tiny on his hulking new body. Then comes a splintering crunch and Donnie howls in agony.

It's horrifying to watch his skull grow, pressing outward, stretching his bandana almost to its limits. The bridge of his goggles snap and tumble to the ground. Skin stretches, rippling over changing structures, and Donnie gags, coughing, and vomits onto the ground. His jaw crackles as it grows, his tongue lengthening and spilling out of his mouth while he pants for air. His gums begin to bleed and Donnie cries and wails as his teeth fall out, pushed out by the lethal set of jagged, predatory fangs he's sprouting.

Mikey is sobbing now, pressed against Raph's side because none of them can help, none of them can stop this. All they can do is watch.

Donnie collapses to the floor, wheezing, claws scrabbling and his tail lashing. His eyes roll wildly until he locks gazes with Raph. There's a second that lasts for hours where Raph looks into Donnie's eyes and sees his little brother begging for help, begging for Raph to stop the pain. Raph's heart is in pieces.

He's still making staring at Donnie when the light of intelligence flickers in his brother's eyes...and goes out.

And just like that, Donatello Hamato is gone.

The creature that's warped his body roars and thrashes on the ground, snapping its teeth and snarling. Spittle flies from its gnashing jaws and its tail is beating so hard against the floor that it vibrates like a bass drum.

"Don..." Leo's voice is a trembling whisper. He's in shock, just sitting on the floor, staring at what he twin has become.

Raph feels like he's floating off into a void; adrift, lost, and hopeless. The pieces of his shattered heart have dropped into his icy stomach and his body is far away, numb. It belongs to someone else, someone who can actually be a hero, someone who can save his brothers, someone who is a big brother.

Someone who isn't Raph, who can only stare at the creature that used to be Donnie as it rises shakily to its feet, towering over him.

And Raphael has never felt so small and useless.

--------

lil messy sketch of monster don so i could visualize him at least he got to keep his bandana :)

#rottmnt #tmnt angst prompts #sage writes turtles #cw painful transformation #cw body horror #i spent all day agonizing over what to write for this #rottmnt fic server saved my bacon. thank you my dudes.

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi. Can you write something about Emily being obsessed with Aarons arms pls …

Title:  Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 5/7)   Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.   

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count:  3,3k Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, dirty talk, feels

“I’m sorry.” She whispers it in the quiet elevator the next morning as they’re getting ready to leave.

He’s standing in front of her, back turned. They’re alone and Emily wants to disappear. She hadn’t counted on them being alone so quickly, hadn’t expected not to give them both some more time to digest that she left him. Again.

Guilt was seeping through her body, like every nerve was set ablaze by regret and had been ever since she wrote her message only a few hours before.

“Aaron?” She tries softly and reaches for him, but the second her hand lands on his upper arm he takes a step forward.

“I don’t need an apology.” He says just moments before the doors open and reveals the team standing in the lobby, already waiting for them bags in hand. “I need you to give me some time. You know what I want, how I feel, if you can’t give me that then you need to give me some time.”

She knows he’s right, she knows that she’s the one that’s hurting him. So she sucks in a long breath as he walks away. It doesn’t matter that she knows that she’s made a mistake, not when she could hear the heartbreak in his voice, could see the hurt in his eyes.

It was her choice, and now she’d has to live with the consequences.

*

“Hey, Prentiss. You good?” Derek’s familiar voice comes from behind her. It’s been a few days since Texas, since that night and Emily knows that the team’s picked up on something. She’s been tired, easily irritated in a way that she normally wasn’t.

“Yeah. Just a bad week.” She turns in her chair and forces a smile that she hopes looks genuine. “Not enough sleep, you know how it goes.”

“Is it-” He stops himself, eyes flittering quicky to the bruise that’s still on her wrist, finger shaped blues, greens and yellows coloring her skin. “Is it because of the case? Because of-”

“No this has nothing to do with the case.” She cuts him off and she can tell that Derek knows he’s overstepped. “I’m fine Morgan, really.” She stands up and squeezes his shoulder. “But thank you for caring.” Her voice was genuine now, because as much as she didn’t want her friends to meddle in her life, she appreciated that they cared.

“Anytime, Princess.”

*

It’s not even a week later and they’re flying to New York. Things are still strained between them, clipped words and sharp sentences that she doesn’t mind because she knows that Aaron, just like her, aren’t granted the privilege to put physical space between each other. He’s hurting and trying to cope the best he can. So she gives him that.

The second she hears about Kate Joyner she feels annoyed, the subtle dig Dave makes, the knowing looks between JJ and Spencer, it all bugs her. Jealousy she knows she has no right to feel rooting in her stomach and stays there. It doesn’t help that the woman is stunning, a copy of his ex-wife and Emily forces a joke to JJ but all she wants is to drag Aaron out of the office the blonde had just dragged him into.

The jealousy doesn’t go away, even if she manages to subdue it in between fired shots and detective Sam Cooper who she’s seen right through. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the banter, the easiness of it. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

And then the unsub stops mid-chase and shoots him, so she fires back and for a split second everything stops.

Her mind is still reeling as Cooper is being driven off in an ambulance, his blood still on her hands. Aaron is there, he shows up with Joyner but his eyes are on her and she can tell that he’s looking to see if she’s hurt, a slight franticness to him as he does. But she’s okay, gives him a nod and then he continues to talk to Dave and Spencer.

When they regroup it all makes sense. They aren’t dealing with a group of unsubs, they’re dealing with terrorists.

There’s been an explosion, and everything is chaos. There’s been an explosion and she’s been driving like a maniac to find her team. There’s been an explosion and Aaron isn’t there. Aaron isn’t there.

She can’t think about anything else, can’t think about anything other than that he is gone and she knows in her gut that something is wrong. Then Penelope tells them what’s happened and she breathes a sigh of relief because he’s okay, even as her body is filled with disgust because Kate is hurt, badly. She knows she shouldn’t feel relief, but she does because Aaron wasn’t in the car, he isn’t dead.

She’s the first one to say that she’s going to the hospital, she needed to see him, needed to make sure he was still alive.

“I’m fine.”

She hears his voice just as a doctor pushes back a curtain and she follows him quickly.

“Where are my clothes, please?”

“Lay down.”

The sound of her voice seems to surprise him just enough to make him stop.

“I said, lay down and let them do their job.” She says again, staring him down as her arms cross over her chest. To her own surprise he listens.

“Can you give us a minute?” She turns to the doctor who nods, seemingly more than happy that someone else would take over. Once they’re alone she stands planted at the foot of the gurney, glaring at him and he glares right back.

“Has anything happened since the blast?” He asks and she feels rage curse through her.

“You could have died.” She ignores the way her voice shakes but knows that he hears it.

“Emily-”’

“No, Aaron no.” She cuts him off and he sits up, his feet already on the floor before she manages to push him in the chest to keep him from getting up. It doesn’t hurt him, barely makes him budge but he stays sitting on the edge of the bed. “You could have died tonight and we are still in this mess.” A single tear falls down her cheek and he carefully wipes it away.

“But I didn’t.” He says softly and she fights a sob that wants to erupt. “I didn’t die.”

“What if I- fuck Aaron I didn’t know- all I could think about.” She starts her sentence over and over. This isn’t the time or the place, she knows that. But she also knows that not telling him how she felt was impossible, not after having thought that she’d lost him.

He seems to realize too, his eyes gentle and warm as he waits for her to tell him what they both knew, what they had been fighting for weeks now.

“I didn’t.” He whispers and closes her eyes tight, like she’s trying to rid herself of the memories. “I’m right here, I didn’t die.”

“You could have.” She repeats and his warm, large hands move to gently hold her hips, the simple touch nudging her the last bit to say what she needed. “I-I can’t lose you. I’m falling in love with you.”

For a few seconds he stays completely silent, eyes on her, face almost an unreadable and she thinks that she’s too late. But then he smiles.

“So what I needed to do was to almost get blown up for you to admit your feelings?” His words make her chuckle, even as a few more tears fall from her eyes.

“You’re such an ass.”

When they kiss it’s soft, a promise of more and for those few seconds, nothing existed but them.

But of course they’re in the middle of a terrorist attack, Kate has died, and they don’t have time for much more. The team shows up, and as they’re putting the last few pieces together Derek, as brave as he is, drives off with a bomb in a way that Emily would later call stupid.

“I saved all of us.” He defends as they all get ready to leave for the airport the next day. Except Emily and Aaron, they’re driving back.

“Yeah, you’re still and idiot.” She teases just as Aaron walks out and gives her a nod.

“Hey, you’re sure you want to drive back to Washington? I could do it.” Derek offers and she smiles because he has no idea just how much she wants to be alone with Aaron right now.

“I’m good Morgan. I’ll see you at the office.”

When she gets in the driver’s seat, Aaron is already seated in the passenger seat.

“Ready to get going?” She asks and he nods with a smile.

“Did you tell him?” He gestures to Derek who’s about to get into the car and drive away.

“No, let’s keep this between us. For a while.” She feels his warm hand on her thigh and she places her own over his and gives his hand a squeeze.

*

Three weeks later

They’ve been together only for a few weeks when Emily wakes up with Aaron’s strong arm around her middle. They had spent almost every night together, getting to know each other as more than friends and colleagues and she came to find that it was easy to differentiate Aaron from Hotch. She wakes up before him, something that was rare but she loved when she got to enjoy him as he relaxed against her.

She let her eyes drift over his strong arm, the comfort of the slight heaviness something she’s gotten used to. She looked over his arm, from where his fingers twitched slightly as he slept, to the dark hair starting low on his wrist that she can’t help but to gently trace with her finger. His muscle jumped and she knew he was waking up so she turned from where she was lying on her side.

“Morning sweetheart.” He mumbled, voice rough from sleep and she couldn’t believe that he was this effortlessly sexy. Still couldn’t believe that she had fought this for as long as she had.

“Good morning.” She smiled as he pressed a lazy smile against the crook of her neck where he had buried his face. “It’s still early, you can keep sleeping.”

“Or, I could do this instead.” He already sounds more awake, lips trailing from her neck to her jaw and then he’s kissing her as he shifts and she feels all of him pressing against her. He’s hard against her thigh and she whimpers slightly against his lips.

“I never thought I’d meet someone with a higher sex drive than me.” She teases and he hums in between kisses that are getting more heated as his hands start to move down her body.

They fuck lazily, enjoying each other until he’s coming deep inside of her as she grinds on top off him.

Later she finds herself watching him again. He’s making her breakfast, wearing nothing but dark green boxers that hang low on his hips and she’s almost taken back by how delicious he looks. She once again finds herself looking at his arms, how the strong muscle is hidden under soft skin, watches the veins as he sits beside her, how the coffee cup looks tiny in his large hand.

“What?” He asks, catching her not so subtle gawking with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t I enjoy the view?” Her words make him blush, and it’s another thing she loved about him. He had no idea just how gorgeous he was.

“What do you want to do today?” He changes the subject and she shrugs as her hand lands on his forearm.

“I don’t know, we could stay at home? Relax for once?” She traces a finger through the fine hair covering his arm, eyes fastened on it.

“Or, you could meet Jack?”

That made her look at him so fast he almost laughs.

“Already?” They had talked about it, but she had figured that it would be months before Aaron was ready for that. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“No.” It’s his turn to shrug. “I mean unless you’re planning on ditching me anytime soon?” He winks at her as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “I’m only kidding.” He stamps a kiss to her lips. “If you’re not ready to meet him, then that’s okay, it is soon. I just want him to meet my girlfriend.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.” She smiles, big and toothy and he chuckles.

“That you’re my girlfriend?” When she nods he moves to gently hold her neck, pulling her forward. “Of course you’re my girlfriend, Emily.”

She smiles into a kiss and when they break apart there’s not a doubt in her mind. She wants the man in front of her, she wants him forever.

“Call Haley and ask if it’s okay.”

*

That same night she’s coming into the kitchen just as Aaron takes the chicken out of the oven, hair still wet from her shower, body wrapped in a bathrobe. She was tired, but it wasn’t tired in the way you were in you slept too little or were too stressed, no she was tired in the way you were when you had spent hours with a three-year-old. It was the kind of tired she didn’t mind, because Jack was worth it.

“So let me be the first to say, Jack adores you.” Aaron says as she stretches, her hands high above her head.

“I adore him too. He’s such a great kid.” She goes to hug him from behind and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “But am I a horrible person if I say that I’m happy that it’s just us tonight?”

“No, you’re not.” He’s smiling when he turns around to face her. “Did you have something in mind though?” When her eyebrow raised and she gives him a look, his hands grip her a little tighter. “What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, at least not for food.” She removes her bathrobe and reveals the lace underwear set she’s wearing.

“Emily.” Her name is a breathy gasp and when she falls to her knees in front of him, Aaron moves to lean against the counter.

She holds his gaze as she gets his jeans off then presses a kiss against his bulge over his underwear. When she feels him jerking against her lips she smirks.

“Take off your shirt.” She says and he immediately complies. “You’re so fucking sexy.” She looks over his body while pulling down his boxers. “And all mine.” When she takes him in her mouth his knees buckle for a second.

“Fuck baby.” He husks out, fingers easily finding their way to her still damp hair. She moans softly around him, the feeling of his fingers gently tugging and gripping making her shiver as she slowly works her way down his shaft.

He’s getting harder with every second, each swipe of her tongue and every suck making him delirious with want. Then she looks back up at him, eyes hazy in that familiar way, pupils blown wide.

“So good.” He whispers and her cheeks tint pink at the praise. “I swear you were made for me, every fucking hole.” His fingers tighten in her hair and she whimper around him. Her thighs clench as she starts to bop her head faster.

She takes him as deep as she can, ignores how she chokes and how her eyes turn glassy as she works his cock over. When his hips start to jerk against her face, she wraps a fist around him and starts to pump. She pulls off him only to suck in a couple of breaths and then she takes him back in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the tip of him as her hand twists his base and Aaron groans above her.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” She pants and his jaw clenches as he swallows hard. “I want it all.” Spit hangs from her bottom lip and he wipes it with his thumb before sucking that same thumb between his lips.

“Make me come, then.” He smirks and she has him in her mouth only a few moments later. She pushes forward, keeps going until her nose presses against his pelvis and Aaron groans. Her throat contracts around him, her eyes are glassy as she looks up at him, and then she pulls back, only to do the same thing again and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

He tugs her hair again and then he fists it hard, making her gasp around the tip of him. She knows what he wants, so she sits back on her heels and opens her mouth wide. When he starts to thrust against her face, she can’t resist and moves a hand between her legs. She’s soaked, the fabric of her underwear damp and she moans quietly around his cock as he keeps pushing his hips against her.

“Don’t come.” He grits out, almost overwhelmed by the pleasure of her mouth and the visual of her on her knees touching herself. “You’re going to wait until I’m ready to fuck you.”

Emily nods, even as her fingers are circling her clit faster. She can tell that he’s getting close, hips stuttering, filthy words fall from his mouth and she’s pretty sure she’s dripping onto the floor by now. Her eyes move over him, from his face, to his chest, to his arms. She can see the muscle in his forearm tense as he grips her hair tighter. She knows how strong his arms are, how easily he pins her down or throws her around and she whines at the thought.

“Gonna come.” His hushed words bring her eyes back to his face. “You ready for it?”

She nods frantically, stops touching herself and instead focuses everything on pleasing him. He tenses just as he grunts and then the salty taste of him lands on her waiting tongue. His hips jerk as she sucks on his tip, her hand coming up to jerk the rest of him, drawing out the pleasure until he’s backing away, still panting.

“Jesus Christ Em.” He leans against the counter, hands gripping it to keep steady before he helps her up to stand. He pulls her into a kiss, pushes his tongue against hers and groans at the taste of him that still lingers. His hand moves into her underwear and when he feels the slick of her he can’t help to hum. “My my, such a messy girl.”

“Aaron.” She whimpers, her hands digging into the muscle of his upper arms. “Need you.”

“Then why would you make me come in that pretty mouth of yours?” He teases as he turns them around until he can bend her over the counter. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you sweetheart.”

He makes her come three times before he’s even inside of her, by the time they land in a messy tangle of limbs Emily’s exhausted and sated. She falls asleep with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The next morning Aaron wakes up to an empty bed and for a second he feels panicked, but then he hears Emily humming to herself in the bathroom and his eyes move to the note that’s on her pillow.Don’t think the notes stop just cause I’m your girlfriend now. Em

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Oooh, I couldn't help but see you're taking prompt requests for Frankie and Santiago! What about "Don't make me jealous" and "No worry, you weren't that obvious"?

Hey angel!! Thank you so much for sending this in my love! I just did one for Santi, so I went with Frankie for this one! I hope you enjoy! I’m not crazy about the ending but…. It’s ok it’s ok. I hope you like it!!!!!

100 Follower Celebration:

Two Left Feet

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

For as long as Francisco Morales knew you, you loved to dance.

That's how he met you, on the dance floor at a Cumbia night at the local bar Santi dragged him to. You saw him sitting on the sidelines and lured him in with your eyes and sweet smile. 3 years later and you now lived together, and the kitchen tiles were your nightly dance floor. Even with those nightly slow dances, Frankie couldn't shake his natural shy nature when it came to beats swirling around his feet. You encouraged him that he was a wonderful dancer, he tried to avoid public dancing as much as possible, even if you begged him.

So it baffled him as to how he was convinced to attend at the edge of town with Santi. Music was blasting trying to be heard above the cacophany of voices of a hundred people chatting, eating, and dancing. He did not want to be here. At all. What he wanted to be doing was to be on the couch, with you, in his sweatpants, with a pizza and a crap movie on. He had tried all afternoon to get you to stay home instead, but you would not relent. You hadn't gone out in months and when Santi mentioned it to you and Frankie at your weekly dinner, you jumped at the chance. Frankie complaining and moping would not deter you.

The only thing that made this at all worth it was to see that smile on your perfect face. And the tight jeans you brought out for the night. One of your favorite songs starts blaring on the speakers and your eyes light up like fireworks, "Ah! Francisco c'mon! This song was playing when we met do you remember?"

Frankie shook his head, pushing his hat further down on his head, "Mmm no it's ok princessa. I think I'm going to sit this one out. You go on."

You pouted, "Frankie c'mon please? It's our favorite song. Please come dance with me?"

"No baby I'm not going out there."

You opened your mouth to fight with him, but Santi put his hand on your shoulder to stop you, "Hey don't worry muñeca, I'll go dance with you. Get on the floor, I'll meet up with you. I just gotta give Fish some cash for gas."

You nodded and gave a small smile to Pope, not without shooting a look at Frankie. Frankie watched you bounce along onto the dance floor already stealing the metaphysical spotlight. Santi punched Frankie on the shoulder, "It is unbelievable to me that you would let your girl out on that dance floor looking like that with a man that's not you."

Frankie rubbed his shoulder, "I'm not a good dancer, it's embarrassing."

Santi threw his hands to his sides, "So? Fish. You have the most beautiful girl in the place begging you to hold her and dance with her and you say no because you don't think you can dance? Literally all she wants is for you to spend time with you and to have fun with you. What is your deal?"

"You can dance with her! She'll have a much better time with you and won't get embarrassed. You're a much better dancer."

Santi looked at you, who was clearly waiting for him, and then looked back at Frankie. A plan started forming. With a sly smirk he purred out, "Hm. I am the better dancer. Maybe I can also show her who the better boyfriend is too."

Frankie crossed his arms, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Santi just tapped his shoulder, "Don't worry about it viejo. You go sit down, don't want you to strain your back or anything. I'll take good care of your girl."

And with that Santi waltzed over to you, all too excited to see how the night would play out. Frankie was always very even keeled. Methodical. Rational. Nothing really riled him up and he wasn't prone to jealousy. Unless it came to you. And Santi knew it. He had gone through enough tours and late nights to know what made Fish tick. And Santi was going to press all of them. Whatever it took to make Fish stop being such a baby.

You watched the interaction between the two friends, and it did not skip by you that Frankie clearly became angry at whatever Santi said. Santi on the other hand looked much too pleased. When Santi finally made it to you and took you to the middle of the floor you questioned, "What did you do?"

Santi smiled and whispered to you, "Frankie is being a baby and is shy about embarrassing you since he thinks he's bad at dancing. I'm just... pushing him out of the nest."

As you began stepping in time with Santi you raised your brows, "Pushing him out of the nest by..."

Santi grabbed your lower back, "Encouraging him to take what's his before someone else does."

"Santi I don't play like that."

"Neither do I honey. Just have fun, I'll take the flack for it. Frankie boy needs to get over himself."

Maybe it was wrong. No it was. It was wrong to mess with Frankie like this. But you rationalized it by thinking about how many times Frankie refused to dance with you recently. Even in the kitchen. How many times he refused show his affection in public. Because he didn't want to looked whipped. Maybe it was wrong. But you wanted Frankie to want you with the ferocity that he did when you first got together. And if it took Santi being a little mean... well...

Santi spun you around and kept you in beat with the other couples turning around. You laughed and sang with Santi as if no one was watching. But you could feel Frankie’s eyes raking over you. Burning like a hot stove. When you nodded to Santi to look, Santi chuckled and whispered, “Any minute now.”

Francisco Morales was on the edge of his seat. Every muscle in his body rigid as the rage bubbled up. He prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. Not letting passions get the better of him. But this was becoming too much. You were having too much fun. Santi was smiling way too much and holding you much too tight for his liking.

It ended now.

As one song ended and another song started, you saw Frankie stomping over. So authoritative that couples parted away from him and his wake. His face was fixed in a scowl, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine. Frankie yanked Santi off you as gently as he could, “Alright knock it off. Get lost.”

Santi winked at you and laughed, “He’s all yours honey.” Santi smacked Frankie’s behind as he looked for another dance partner.

Frankie pulled you impossibly close. Your breath hitching and shyness rising. A slower more sensual number started up, and the butterflies began running amuck in your stomach. Frankie pulled your face to his to whisper to you, “Don’t make me jealous baby. I don’t like having to compete and get handsy.”

Frankie kisses your forehead and nips at your ear, causing you to gasp and giggle. You turn to face him, kissing his pouty lips. “I just wanted you to dance with me baby. I’m sorry if I made you think you ever had to compete with me.”

He hummed kissing you back, “It’s ok querida. I understand. I’ve been letting my pride get in the way of loving you the way you need me to. The way I want to. Just… let’s not play those games anymore yeah?”

You nodded, laying your head on his chest. You let your hands roam his broad back, murmuring, “You did look sexy stomping over here all jealous.”

Frankie laughed, leaning back to look at you, “Was it that obvious?”

You shook your head quickly and dramatically, “oh no… no not obvious at all.”

He laughed some more, pulling you back into his chest. You danced the night away with him. Feeling those same butterflies you felt that first night you met. Stepping all over those two left feet.

#triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #100 follower celebration #pedro pascal fanfiction

[pebbleswritessometimes]

Hi!! Since everyone is sending in fluffy prompts, let’s change it up and add some angst *evil laugh* but not so much cos I can’t handle it. Can I request a Larissa x teacher!reader where they both have a crush on one another but they’re friends so no one says anything. They’re always together on their free time but lately, since a new teacher transferred, it seems like Larissa is always with them (because the teacher has a crush but Larissa is just helping them get settled). R isn’t really the type to get jealous so they’re just sad and pulls away from Larissa, opting to spend time with another teacher (in a besties way) but it makes Larissa jealous so they confront reader and they finally end up telling each other how they feel. This was long. I’m sorry. Thanks though!

Misunderstanding

Larissa weems x reader

Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted ❤️ not proof read

Fluffy/angst/not really angst :)

Gods, you loved her. Yes, of course she was your friend, maybe even your best, but it was so much more than that. What you would do just to hold her in a much more vulnerable way. To hold her face and be the one to reassure her, but the risk was too big. You’d be damned if you lost her simply because you couldn’t contain your feelings.

You two were set to meet in her office for your usual glass of wine in front of the fireplace. Typically, you’d ramble about your day, random mischief that your students would get up to and she’d tell you all about the new sponsors, events, or ideas for the school. Today though.. today, she mentioned a new hire in the administrations office. She went on about how bubbly her character was and how much of an addition she presumed she would be. She’s just being an enthusiastic boss, so why are you jealous? “Goodness, honestly! She couldn’t have arrived at a more appropriate time,” Larissa chuckled as she began to down the remainder of her glass. “I’m sure! She seems like she’s quite the woman, huh?” You forced out a strained smile. You two finished your glasses and ended the night in a tipsy, silly haze.

Finally the weekend arrived. Usually, you would spend your Saturdays enjoying the the scenery that the academy provided, or you’d go with Larissa to the Cafe for a cup of tea. Greeting colleagues, you waltzed your way to the courtyard. “Morning, Rissa!” You spoke. Looking beautiful as ever, she grinned, “Good morning, Miss Y/L/N. How are you doing? This is our new hire, Miss Green,” turning back to the shorter woman. Miss Green waved as you spoke, “I- uh. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Green,” you attempted to conceal the confusion in your tone. You weren’t sure why she referred to you as if you two were still working. “I wanted to see if you’d like to come get some tea with me like we usually do,” rocking back and forth on your heels, you looked up at her. You loved the lines that formed when she smiled down at you. It was as if an artist carefully put a pencil to her features. Shading her lips and defining the apples of her cheeks.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Y/L/N, Miss Green and I are going to take a trip around Jericho,” she spoke with a smile. You couldn’t help the furrowing of your eyebrows, she had always loved going to the town with you. Even when she went with others, she always asked you to join. “Oh…okay. Hm well, I guess I’ll see you later… Miss Weems?” Unsure about how to address her. You politely said bye to the new woman, spun around and headed back in, opting to relax in the library for a little instead. “Haven’t read this one yet,” you mumbled to yourself, picking up a small novel. “Hey, Stranger!” Shooting backwards at the sudden voice, you tumbled into a bookshelf. “Oh my god! Don’t do that! You scared me,” clutching your necklace in an attempt to steady your breath. “Pfft, sorry! I didn’t mean to, really. What’re you doing in here? I thought you were going to the cafe with Larissa,” Marilyn bent down to pick up some of the fallen books.

Sighing, you told her about how she said she was going out with the your new colleague. “I don’t know, it was just weird. I understand she’s busy sometimes and her life doesn’t revolve around me, but..she just,” unable to find your words. Marylin decided she was on a mission to make you smile. She went through jokes, comparing books, and even made a poor attempt at a portrait of you. It may have looked more like a sheep who put on a milfs business suit, but the heart was there.

What felt like minutes turned into hours of laughter and bonding between two good friends. Unbeknownst to you, Larissa and Miss Green had arrived back at Nevermore a couple hours ago. Miss Green retired to her quarters early and Larissa spent the rest of the afternoon looking for you. She wanted to tell you all about her trip with Miss Green. She knocked at your door, checked in your study, and wondered around the courtyard. She even glanced into her office to see if you were there waiting for her. “Where the hell is this woman?” She thought to herself. Suddenly, just as she was walking past the library, she heard an eruption of laughter. One that was unmistakable to her. It was a laughter that she could play in her mind like the bumps in an old music box.

“And she did! She actually went up to this poor guy and made him dance with her,” Marilyn spoke through broken laughter. With both of you wheezing, you didn’t notice the tall figure whose presence filled the empty corner in the library. You were practically folded into yourself, tears making their way down your cheeks. “Sounds like you two have had quite the time today,” There was a tinge of disdain in her voice. “Larissa! Hello! I heard you went with the new girl to visit Jericho,” Marylin smirked as she leaned and pushed against her knees to stand. “Ah. Yes, that we did,” clenching her jaw as she closed the distance between you three. “How was it? Have a good time?” She spoke as she packed her two chosen novels into her bag. “Yes, it was lovely. Good weather,” giving a short response, grabbing your book from the table and examining the cover. Marylin had bid adieu to you both and gave you a look as she exited the library.

Pulling your mouth into a thin line, you bit the bullet and spoke first, “Im glad you had a good day.”

“Thank you. Um so..you and Marylin seem to be pretty close,” her face stuck in a constant furrow. Silence took over the room again. Larissa sat down next to you on the seat, fiddling with her fingers. “What is it about her?” She questioned. “What?” Squinting at her question, you didn’t understand what she was talking about. “Marylin. I was looking for you for a while, only to find you in here with her. You’ve never been one to stay inside on Saturdays. And the way you laughed, that was your real, full laugh and it seemed effortless for her to make you-“ her rambling came to a halt as she felt your hand grab hers. Offering her a soft smile, you reminded her to take a breath. “Well..I- earlier today, when I spoke to you?” waiting for her acknowledgment. She nodded. “You turned down tea with me, which is okay, you know. I know I can’t have you all the time, but then you referred to me as Miss Y/L/N. I was just a little hurt and it made me sad so I decided maybe I’d just gather myself here. Marylin scared me,” chuckling at the memory, “I ended up bumping into a shelf and knocking down a few books. We’ve been here since.”

“I made you sad? How did I-“ stopping to think. You could’ve melted with the way she looked at you, holding your hands. Taking a deep inhale, “You referred to me very professionally. Normally that’s fine, when we’re working, but we usually spend most of our time together. I felt as if maybe you didn’t want Miss Green to know that..I don’t know, I guess I thought maybe you were embarrassed of having me as a friend or maybe you saw something in her and didn’t want her to think that we were involved? Like romantically? So.. I- I came here.”

You heard her sigh, feeling her hand come up to hold your face. Leaning into her touch, you closed your eyes. “Look at me. Y/N, please,” She swept her thumb across your cheek. “I would never be embarrassed of you and I’m sorry that I made you feel negatively. It was never my intention, I promise. And as for being interested in Miss Green.. she’s lovely and her work ethic is phenomenal, but if there’s anyone that I’d have a desire to be with, it’s you,” a blush creeping upon her features at her admission. Grabbing her face, you nearly lost yourself in her eyes, looking for an ounce of malicious intent or a lie. You found nothing but truth, nothing but love as she committed your every blink to memory. Before for you knew it, your mouth was on hers. She tasted like the strawberry chapstick she faithfully put on over her signature red shade. Moving her hand to the back of your neck, she deepened the kiss. You two would’ve been there for hours if you hadn’t pulled away, swollen-lipped, at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Took you two long enough,” Marylin must’ve forgotten something in the library. She chuckled as she made her way back out of the door. Both of you busting out in laughter.

You and Larissa decided to head to her office for your usual glass of wine, giddy like two teenagers who just had their first kiss.

Turns out you got to hold her the way you wanted to, after all.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday weems #larissa x reader #weems #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #wednesday 2022 #Larissa imagine

[munsonsreputation]

Congratulations to 500 followers 🥳🥳💕. You deserve it.

Could you do a little somewhere with Robin and the two prompts ?

"You're jealous aren't you?" "I'm not jealous."

"I might never get another chance to say this."

Love you 💚😍

hey anela!!!!

thanks so much for sending in this request!! i loved this prompt and ive been wanting to write more robin so this was perfect!! this was so sweet and i hope i did your prompt justice!!

and thank you so much for the support and kind words!! it means the world to me!!! 🧸💘

Parties were never your thing, but of course after the coming months of you getting closer to Robin it also led you getting closer to her friends—one of her best friends, Steve, who hosted parties every other weekend at his house.

Usually you’d decline the invite but not when Robin was the one asking you to come. You’d tag along with her anywhere if it meant getting to hear her laughter, brush your hands against one another, and share smiles.

It was sorta obvious. Very obvious that you and Robin liked each other. They saw the way you two looked at each other and laughed a little too hard at one another’s corny jokes. It was cute for a while, but after months of this dragging on, they all were just waiting for you two to get together. To stop dancing around those obvious feelings and finally confess your crushes.

But of course, neither of you had the guts to admit your feelings. At least not right now, because that would possibly ruin your friendship and that was not something either of you were ready to do.

But not for long, at least not for Robin who clutched her soda can so tight that the aluminium crumpled and her glare seemed to harden as she watched you across Steve’s living room.

“So are you from Hawkins?”

The guy had approached you two minutes ago, and you were already over the conversation the minute he opened his mouth.

You nodded, tightly smiling as you looked down at your almost empty cup, “Yeah, lived here my whole life…”

Another wave of awkward silence passed while you waited for him to catch the hint and excuse himself from his place next to you on the couch. But no, of course, an obnoxious guy so full of himself couldn’t catch any fucking hint if his life depended on it.

“Why is she talking to him?” Steve nudged Robin who sighed and shrugged, not tearing her eyes off of you and the stranger.

“He came up to her…he looks like a real douche.” She grumbled sadly.

“Well, first of all, why don’t we put this down,” He reached for the smashed soda, pulling it out of her hands, “second, she obviously looks uncomfortable.”

Steve gestured to you, looking anywhere but the guy and practically burying yourself into the leather of the couch. The smile she loved to see on your face was strained and forced, even more so was the laugh you let out.

“Put your jealousy aside, Robs,” Steve patted her shoulder as she scoffed, smacking his arm lightly.

“I’m not jealous!” She argued ridiculously.

He laughed, pushing her by the shoulders, “Go, Robin!”

Stumbling a bit, she regained her path and made her way over to you. Words already flowing through her head as she rolled her shoulders back and tried to pull herself together.

As she got closer to you, your eyes drifted to the familiar presence of Robin, grateful and relieved that she was near. A genuine smile coated your face while you sat up, waving timidly, “Hey, Robs!”

“H-hey!” She stuffed her hands into her pockets, shooting you a smile that lingered on both of your faced for way too long before she began speaking again.

“Do you wanna go out back and take a breather?” She turned her head to the back sliding doors, the yard empty with everyone inside mingling in the warmth.

You nodded quickly, immediately taking her hand as she offered it to you, helping you up before you turned back to the guy who sulked, “I forgot to tell you I don’t like guys!”

Robin heard you, her cheeks reddening away from your view, where she pulled you through the sliding doors and towards the pool chairs.

“You’re a lifesaver, Robin.” You thanked her, settling into one of the seats and patting the space beside you, gesturing for her to lie next to you under the starry sky.

She took her place, trying not to think about being so close to you. Not that it was anything out of the sort. You and Robin would cuddle each other all the time during movie nights with your friends and sometimes subconsciously during sleepovers where you two with wake tangled in each other’s arms.

But something in the air just told her that tonight was going to be different. She could feel the warmth radiating off your body through the cold air while you tucked yourself into her side, slinging your arm over her stomach.

“What did he say to you?” She asked quietly, wrapping one of her arms across your shoulders while the other went behind her head.

You let out a mixture of giggles and groans, “Just the classic douchey pickup lines. I mean seriously, I feel bad for the girls who actually fall for those kind of guys.”

Her laugh whirled through her chest while she nodded her head, a gentle hand rubbing your shoulders soothingly, “No, yeah, I mean like, you would think they would actually be funny, you know to make up for all the things they lack, but they just totally suck all around.”

You snickered, stuffing your face in the crook of her neck where she could feel the warmth of your breath hitting her skin. She looked down at you, watching the way you tried to stop laughing, but couldn’t because you found her so funny.

She always thought no one would get her humor.

Until she met you.

How could anyone ever compare to you?

You were too precious for this world.

She wished she could show you how much you meant to her.

Robin pulled you in a little closer, a fire lighting inside her soul when she remembered how tense you looked back in there, “Seriously! You looked so uncomfortable, I would totally go back in there and give him a peace of my mind.”

The butterflies erupted in your stomach. She was so protective of you for someone who hated confrontation. You would totally let her go back in there and give that douchebag a piece of her mind, but that would mean missing out on the moment of you and her basking in the moonlight—and you weren’t going to let that happen.

Not tonight, because you knew it was going to be different.

You sat up slightly looking down at her where she furrowed her brows and stared at you, “Y-you ok? Did you want to go back inside?” she sat up too, pointing her thumbs back inside before you slightly shoved her back to lie down.

“Hmph! O-okaaay, what’s going on?” She swallowed, while you smirked, a sense of confidence and courage coming to you.

“You were jealous, weren’t you?” You said slowly, watching as her face dropped as quickly as she tried to put on an unconvincing look on her face that told you otherwise.

“W-what? No, I wasn’t! Why would I be jealous?! I’m not even the jealous type!” She babbled, waving her hands all of the place while she looked anywhere but your eyes, already a clear signal that she was lying.

Your fingers wrapped around her flailing wrists, gently calming her erratic movements. “Robin…” you whispered softly, “I might not get another chance to say this…but I like you. More than friends.”

Holy shit, was this happening right now?

The moment that she was finally waiting for.

Robin was more than awestruck. You could literally see the stars shining in her eyes while she open mouth stared at you, trying to form words of any kind to tell you she felt the same. Her heart was skipping and beating and her stomach was doing somersaults with the way you were staring at her with such admiration.

But at the moment, all she could do was sit up, closing the space between the both of you while she reached for your cheeks, pulling your lips to hers as you two melted into a kiss. Your lips were soft and pillowy against her slightly chapped ones. It was a gentle, sweet kiss at first, but it quickly deepened as the two of you lost yourselves in each other.

The best first kiss of your lives.

When she pulled away,

As you both pulled away to catch your breath, Robin looked at you with a smile, “I’ve been waiting to do that since forever,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion, “I—I like you too. A lot. More than friends.”

You couldn’t help yourself, capturing her lips once more where you two fell back onto the pool bed, giggling against each other’s lips basking in this moment that cemented everything.

“I guess I should go in there and thank that douchebag for making you jealous?” You joked, squishing her cheeks, while she shook her head and pulled you closer.

“Over my dead body!” She hollered out loud with no care in the world because all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders with you in her arms.

Maybe jealousy wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

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[mutable-manifestation]

The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch. 24

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23

Part 24!

Me, trying to write the DC characters in-character and desperately trying to sort through the various timeline changes to get a rough idea of how they should/would behave, in patrick star voice: WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!?

Anyway, this took forever but here it is.

***

Deadman is really feeling his namesake not five minutes into Batman grilling him for details on the Realms.

The guy sure can glare.

‘I don’t know what the majority of the place looks like because I never left Rama’s side when I was there’ is apparently unhelpful, but he can offer them what he read about it - an endless expanse dotted with doors and islands and other small structures.

“Doors are always lairs - ghost homes, basically - if they’re floating alone, but the ones on islands can be normal doors - mostly. You can kind of get a feel for which are which. Islands vary from lairs to wilds, but you can’t really tell based on appearance since a ghost might just want a jungle lair. Our best bet is to just not open any doors or land on any islands.”

“If everything is floating, is it like space? I mean, is there even any air in there?” Flash asks, brow raised.

“Yeah kind of! And no, everything is made of ectoplasm.”

“You said it was human-safe,” Robin glares.

“It is!” Deadman smiles guilelessly.

“How are we meant to breathe if everything is made of this ‘ectoplasm’?”

Apparently ‘You just do’ isn’t a very reassuring answer.

He throws his hands up at the collective bat-glares.

“Hey, hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I dunno what to tell ya here. Humans have ventured into the Zone before and they were breathing just fine. Went back to the land of the living in one piece with no problems. I’m no scientist, I can’t begin to tell ya the hows or the whys of it, but I guarantee you can all breathe just fine in there. Double-cross my core and everything. If it’ll make you feel better you can always bring air tanks or somethin.”

“Right,” Signal sighs, “We’ll figure something out. If we need to fly to traverse the place we’re probably better off taking the jet anyway, assuming you can make a big enough portal?”

“Uh,” Deadman stares at him, wide-eyed. “Who can make a what-now?”

“A portal,” Red Robin interjects. “If they’re required for you to access your home realm there’s no way you don’t know how to make them. How else would you have gotten to the ‘Zone’ originally to ‘not leave Rama’s side’?"

“Yeah, no,” he crosses his arms in an X for emphasis. “Portal powers are rare. Like, rare-rare, even in - maybe even especially in - the Realms. Rama can communicate through the veil with little effort, but even she had to use a complex ritual to summon me to her side and later send me back.”

“And yet the wolf just tore one open with a swipe of his hand,” Red Robin notes.

“Yeah, because he’s Wulf - it’s his name, by the by. With a ‘u.’”

“You know him?” Batman demands, leaning forward even more attentively.

“I know of him. I’m pretty sure no ghost doesn’t, what with how he’s the right hand of the High King of the Infinite Realms and all.”

“‘High King of the Infinite Realms?’” Constantine pipes up, voice high and strained.

“Yep,” Deadman pops the ‘p.’ “High King of the Infinite Realms, King of the Dead, or just ‘The Ghost King.’ He’s the guy that has the final say on everything in the realms. Like, if Hades and Anubis get into a fight, he’s the one to break it up, that kinda thing.”

There’s a long silence at that.

“But there’s no need to worry!” Deadman hastens to amend when the quiet stretches worryingly long. “The current king is a nice guy! He’s hailed as a hero for defeating the old tyrant king, Pariah Dark after he escaped the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. And he’s been making a lot of positive reforms ever since he took the throne! Look on the bright side! At least you know your guy is getting the comfy treatment!”

“This entire mission hinges on us having access to the Infinite Realms,” Batman states, ignoring Deadman’s attempt at positivity and the implications of his son apparently being taken in by ghost royalty. “Do you think the ritual that was used for you to cross over would work for this?”

“I doubt it. It wasn’t a portal, I was literally just. Summoned. Here one moment, there the next, no tears in space involved.”

“Lucky us,” Oracle pipes up from where she’d been typing away since Wulf first swept Jason away, “We might have another option. I’ve got a few hits on ‘ectoplasm’ in the system. Old files - like, really old - and three of them mention portals.”

Tentative relief floods the room at a solution presenting itself nearly the moment the problem crops up.

“Two locations,” she continues, putting a picture of an…eccentric building on the display. “The first is a ghost-themed gift shop-slash-museum in a small town in Illinois. Records show the previous owners to be self-proclaimed ghost hunters with what the shop’s website calls a ‘full armory of ecto-weapons, sensors, and defensive tools.’ Apparently they sell replicas, keep the originals for the museum display. The portal has since shut down but the new owners have kept everything well-preserved and documented, despite passing it all off as a heavily-themed tourist trap.”

“A promising lead if the tech is truly functional,” Batman muses. “And the second?”

“An abandoned mansion in the middle of Wisconsin. Apparently the owner went missing but has automatic pay set up for taxes and things to remain ready for his return ‘in perpetuity’ - at least, until the money runs out - even in the event of his untimely death. Some financial consultant manages the whole thing, and has ever since he picked up where his father left off around 50 years ago.”

She takes a second to replace the eccentric building with two more images - a grand castle and a lab straight out of a mad science cartoon.

Or a very thematically dedicated rouge.

“Some housekeeping staff reported odd stuff in the basement, and a now-defunct government branch called the Ghost Investigation Ward - which was only functional for 3 years - came in and classified a lot of the stuff as ‘ecto-tech’ and even documented the presence of a ‘ghost-portal.’ They were going to claim the ecto-tech for research, but the Ward was shut down before the project could get any further. If it works like the paperwork claims, we may just have our way in.”

“If they were finding working portals to the afterlife then why was the Ward shut down?” Red Robin asks, disbelief scrawled across the visible parts of his face.

“A lot of things. Trespassing, destruction of property, entry without a warrant, false imprisonment, use of untested weapons, reckless endangerment, child endangerment, loitering, littering, stalking, harassment, emotional and psychological distress, assault… the list drags on. Apparently they were more lucky than competent, stepped on a lot of toes. Then they left some kind of weapon lying around and it ended up killing two kids. The parents and community as a whole had enough at that point - most of their work was in a single location, specifically the town with the museum portal - and came at them with every charge that they had any evidence for. Which was almost all of them.”

“Ah, so we might have a portal to literal hell or two just lying around in the middles of nowhere, America. And at least one of them is probably booby-trapped with a few deadly weapons,” Constantine snips. “Perfect.”

“It’s not hell, Constantine, it’s the afterlife as a whole,” Deadman corrects.

Constantine does not look soothed.

“The castle first,” Batman decides. “The sooner we get to Red Hood back, the better. Red Robin, get in touch with the consultant. Oracle, get a list of all the ecto-tech the Illinois location claims to have and what it can do. Flash, given your reaction to the portal earlier do you believe it would be better for you to remain behind?”

Flash flinches.

“I…just being near it was…horrifying. Going through it…I don’t know if I can. If the other side all feels that way….” He shudders. “I think I’d be better off guarding the portal from this side of things.”

“Right,” Batman agrees before turning back to Constantine. “What can we do to prevent a repeat of the earlier possession while we’re in there.”

Constantine’s right eye twitches, but he barely has a chance to open his mouth when Deadman answers for him.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that!”

Constantine slams a hand on the table as he stands.

“Like bloody hell there’s no need! If we go in there without preparation we’re all liable to end up short a ‘self’ to control!”

“You’re still thinkin in terms’a this side of things, Constantine. Things don’t work like that in the Zone.”

“What, so humans are just suddenly immune to being possessed so long as they’re surrounded by ghosts?” He tosses his arms in the air disbelievingly.

“No, I mean a living being in the Zone can choose to be outta step with it. Kinda like how stronger ghosts can choose to be outta step with this side to phase through things, or how I’m outta step by default. Living beings aren’t from the Zone so if you kinda focus on that lack of hold, nothing in the Zone can affect you - including possession. It’s why the new king kept some of the restrictions on bringing real-world items into the Zone - usually it requires a level of sentience, but without special care even generally inanimate objects could end up as untouchable debris somewhere. They can still follow you back to the human realm to hurt you, though, so I’d highly recommend avoiding inciting any grudges while we’re in there,” he tags on hastily.

“‘Generally inanimate?’” Batman asks.

“Eh, ecto does whacky things to real-world items sometimes,” Deadman shrugs. “It takes, like, at least a decade usually, but they can sort of gain just enough awareness to not want to be touched - like a flower fleeing shadows to chase the sun.”

“Poetic.”

“Eh, just trying to distinguish from, like, bugs and animals and stuff.”

“Right. We’ll have to run some tests from this side of the portal first. Given the involvement of this ‘High King’ I’d say this is an all-hands situation.”

“Given the way my powers work,” Shazam speaks up, “this High King is apparently my powers’ sources’ boss, I definitely want to be there.”

“Indeed,” Aquaman adds. “As a fellow King it is important to establish diplomatic retort. While the lead-up to this meeting is somewhat unfortunate, we can hope the conclusion will be as peaceful as Deadman believes and work towards that very outcome.”

Green Lantern and Wonder Woman nod their agreement.

“Then I will remain here, to look after the Earth in your absence,” Martian Manhunter says.

“I’ll let Guy and John know to contact you if anything comes up, then,” Hal nods.

With that, Batman stands.

“Let’s move.”

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

Kevin Bordair - the estate manager for the departed Vlad Masters - was more than happy to have them explore the lab.

He had been very hands-off with the lab, as his father had instructed, but that lack of information on what might be festering down there….

When he’d looked over the more publicly available Fenton documents he’d discovered that it was…inadvisable to leave most of the materials in an ecto-lab to fester. Without proper filtration for so long there could be explosive results if anything turned on.

No one he’d contacted had wanted to enter the place.

His only saving grace was that the weapons were largely dormant and the portal had mysteriously shut down on its own some 20 years before he took over.

The lab itself didn’t have anything in the way of instructions - presumably the previous owner kept them all digital, but no one wanted to risk turning on the computer without a guarantee that it wouldn’t blow up.

Luckily, Bordair was eager for the potential to have them deal with the mess and had brought print-outs of the Fenton documents - including blueprints for the weapons and the portal that hadn’t been available digitally.

Most of the writing on them was practically chicken scratch, but between Oracle and Red Robin’s technical expertise they were able to work out a proper filtration method.

Five hours later, they had just enough clean ectoplasm to start up the portal and power a few of the net devices they’d found lying around. The rest was too decayed to use and none of the notes explained how to extract or synthesize more - the Illinois location’s documents stated that all of its ecto had been ‘properly disposed of’ decades ago.

The portal whirred up surprisingly quietly, green blooming to life with no more noise than the gentle hum of a refrigerator.

A portal to the afterlife, torn open with less effort than it took to put the Riddler back in Arkham after an escape.

Superman was the first to venture in - to test the atmosphere for the more squishy members of their groups, as well as the comms.

He reappeared not 10 seconds after he entered.

“Deadman was right, empty space all around. We’ll need to expand the portal to fit the batplane or pair off into flight-capable teams. No trouble breathing - felt just like an in-Earth atmosphere to me - but there’s nothing on the comms on my end.”

“I could just get us all some ghost phones?” Deadman offers, drawing all eyes to him.

“That’s a thing?” Constantine asks incredulously.

“Yeah! The Ghost King 2: Electric Boogaloo ma-”

“I’m SORRY? Ghost King 2???” Constantine interrupts, standing from his slouch against the only non-weapon-covered wall.

“There’s more than one ghost king?” Batman demands.

“Well, yeah? There’s only one High King, of course, but he’s got two spouses - his wife The Ghost Queen and his husband. Apparently the observants wanted him to have the standard ‘Prince Consort’ title, but the High King and the Queen were not having it because it sounded belittling or like he was less important? Something like that. The point is that none of them liked it, So King 2 decided if they wanted him to have a title that differentiated him from the High King he’d title himself Ghost King 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

Deadman leans forward gleefully, “Rumor has it that the only reason the title was approved - without the High King having to force it through - is because the Queen & High King couldn’t stop laughing whenever the observants said the title to try and contest it, which just made the big O’s angrier and angrier until they just ended up signing the approval to get them to leave.

Anyway, King 2 is all about tech stuff and he - alongside his right hand, Technus - is responsible for adapting modern technology to work throughout the greater zone. Fully functional stuff with all the bells and whistles are pretty limited, but simple headsets for vocal chat are pretty easy to get.”

“…Can you guarantee that we won’t just phase through them,” Batman asks.

“Nah,” he answers, waving a hand carelessly, “The old models are made with a split of real-world and ghost-zone materials, nothing can phase through them.”

“Do they accept human currency?”

“...Maybe?”

“Maybe,” he deadpans, crossing his arms.

“Give me a break! I never needed ghost phones before!”

“Do you even know where to get them?”

“Um. Most major lairs are supposed to have extras…?”

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

Red Robin coughs pointedly before he can begin to address the various problems with Deadman’s suggestion.

“The Fentonworks location lists having a dozen devices called ‘Fenton Phones’ in their display. Supposedly meant to act as interdimensional communication devices. If we sacrifice one of the nets we should have enough spare ectoplasm to power them all.”

“Flash.”

“On it!”

“Right. Expanding the portal isn’t feasible given the limited supply of ectoplasm. We can’t afford to damage this. We’ll have to pair off into teams of two - one flight-capable member each-” he cuts himself off, noticing the sudden hand waving in the air. “Yes, Deadman?”

“So, uh, mighta forgot to mention this before, but that’s really not necessary. Remember how I said you’re ‘out of step’ with the ghost zone? Yeah, you can also fly.”

“...I see. Are there any other things we might do in the ghost zone that we should be aware of in advance,” Batman asks, suppressing an eye twitch.

“Not really. Just don’t go offering up soul bits to randos like JohnCon here and try not to offend anybody.”

Constantine’s eye twitches.

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

The museum is more than happy to lend them the Fenton Phones, thankfully. Once they’re all online they have just enough for each member of the team being sent in - Shazam, Green Lantern, Superman, Batman, Orphan, Red Robin, Signal, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Constantine, and Deadman - and one for the team guarding the portal - Flash, Oracle, and Robin.

Down to two working net devices, they leave one with Robin in case of a ghost escaping into the living - a valid concern since the portal will have to remain open due to the lack of a seal other than ‘turn it off.’

The other stays with Batman for their journey into the zone.

He hopes things will remain peaceful as Deadman claims, and the ability to not allow themselves to be untouched made him much less uncomfortable going in with so little in the way of gear. Still, better safe than sorry - even if Deadman, Shazam, and Constantine should be able to act if needed - thus, the net.

Another quick test by Superman verifies the headsets work between the castle and the Zone, and Batman himself jumps in to test intra-zone communications - as well as to verify the flight ability.

With that confirmed and Deadman’s confirmation that he knows the way - mostly - and that it shouldn’t take more than a few hours to arrive, the rest of the Zone team files through the portal, taking a moment to get their bearings.

987 miles away, Dick and Stephanie lay sleeping in their rooms after their cover-patrol while Alfred has his breakfast and prays for his family’s safety. Below them all, a glowing green note falls to the floor in an empty cave.

***

@mayoota-blog1 @kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface @a-star-with-a-human-name @akikoyuii @newgraywolf @tytythehistoryguy @lemccr

Fun Fact(s): Danny doesn’t do the whole ‘servant’ thing, but he got Wulf perma-freed from Walker’s prison unless Danny approved the imprisonment first (which he wouldn’t do without a good reason, and bringing in living world books doesn’t count)

& Wulf was like ‘I owe you’ to which Danny was like ‘Hey you really don’t have to but I should be able to make my own portals at some point and if you don’t mind can you teach me how so I can find xyz quicker to keep improving the GZ’ to which Wulf was like ‘of course! :D’

And he just kinda took to retrieving people/things on Danny’s behalf while he was still learning - akin to how Fright Knight retrieved stuff (crown, amity park, probably a few people’s heads/cores on a platter, etc) for Pariah Dark, earning Wulf the title ‘Right Hand of the High King of the Infinite Realms’ despite the fact that it was only sporadic stuff over the course of, like, three years (yeah, the portal power was a lot), which is how Deadman recognizes him (from the ‘Read these or else’ books)

Tucker absolutely jokingly refers to Technus as his minion sometimes (bc they’re tech buds now & Tuck’s a king. Just some friendly teasing) But the gossip chain don’t care, the gossip chain just went: That’s king 2’s minion [like wulf w a less-flattering title]

A scene I wanted to add but couldn’t make work: Superman: And also how anyone else is supposed to move in there, given the lack of a ground?

Batman: the what

Deadman, seeing opportunity: you just float

Batman: some of us can’t float

Deadman, grinning: We all float down there

Batman, who has seen the movie:...

#dpxdc #comedy-horror of errors #jl pov

[divinegrey]

𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

this is spicy but not the kind of spicy you're thinking. hope you enjoy!

prompt: if it's alright, may i please ask for a spicy viper x femreader prompt wherein viper tries to seduce her but reader is very oblivious about it to the point viper gets frustrated. Thank uuu!!

words: 1400

warnings: fade being a wingwoman, viper being dommy mommy, reader being a bottom, implied nsfw content

“Is it just me, or does Viper seem more annoyed than usual?” You ask, dipping a carrot into some hummus before biting into it with a loud SNAP! Fade, laying across your lap with a book in her hand, reaches for a carrot and some hummus of her own. 

“I wonder why,” Fade says airily, absorbed in the contents of whatever the book is. You give a curious glance down at her; Fade is a person who knows a lot of things. With a roll of your eyes, you yank the book out of her hands. She blinks once. “Was that necessary?” 

“Yes, because I need you, my dear informant of the shadows, to tell me why Viper is mad at me.” 

Fade sits up, a carrot hanging halfway out of her mouth. “Because you have been extraordinarily oblivious to Viper’s fairly obvious attempts to seduce you.” 

The words cause you to choke on air. “W— what?!” 

The Turkish bounty hunter is exasperated, falling onto the cushions with an overly loud groan. “Aye, inanılmazsın. Y/N, you can’t be serious. Did you really think that Viper purchasing flowers for you was a matter of friendliness? Or her putting her hand on your waist while you were cooking? Or her leaning down to whisper in your ear despite not needing to?” 

Fade’s words, one after the other, jog the memories of these very specific situations, some of which Fade wasn’t even present for. How she knows about them is beyond you, but you’re left examining the subtext of all these prior moments and realizing that no, Viper was not just being friendly, and that you’re a huge fucking idiot. 

You put your face into your hands, turning red at Fade’s laughter. 

“And she finally realizes it! Huzzah! We’re all saved, fucking finally,” Fade remarks, clapping her hands onto her thighs. “I’m going to choke if I have to see Viper stare at you like she wants to tear you apart again.” 

Your head shoots upward. “Like she what?!” 

— — —

After the revelation, you make no move. Instead, you find yourself in Viper’s lab, humming as you work on a mission report that Brimstone needs to send to the execs. Viper is hard at work, leaning over some complicated machines. You’re scared to ask what she’s doing, not out of fear that she’ll be mad with you, but that you’ll understand nothing about it. Science was never one of your strong suits. 

But… it might lend well for you to test your theory.

“Hey, Viper?” You say softly, turning away from the laptop. 

“Yes?” Viper doesn’t look away, clicking some buttons on a piece of machinery with latex gloves over her hands. 

“Whatcha working on?” You stand up from the stool, walking over with your arms folded behind your back. At the sound of footsteps, Viper glances up and over her shoulder. Her emerald eyes fall onto you, and you don’t miss the way her eyes flick down, then back up. 

“DNA sequencing. I’m cross-breeding strains of flowers to concoct a new type of venom and I need to ensure I get the correct sequences into the gametes for the best results,” Viper readily explains, and it confirms your earlier thoughts that you don’t understand science, not one bit. 

“So this thing,” you say, gesturing to the machine. “It’s reading DNA?” 

“Scanning it and determining the order of nucleotide bases, I’ve already figured out which ones do what I want,” Viper says, placing her hands on the black countertop. You lean your hip against it, folding your arms over your chest and giving her an encouraging smile to continue. Viper’s face remains impassive. “I merely need to cross the chromosomes at the correct sites, and then fuse the offspring together once they’re ready for pollination. Once that’s complete, I have to mature the flower until it’s ready for harvest.” 

With a click of your tongue, you say, “Sounds like it’s going to take a while. Hopefully you have some… thing to keep you busy, while you’re waiting.” 

Hook, line, and sinker. Viper sees the bait, you know she does, judging by the way she tilts her head just a centimeter down and her eyes narrow. Your heart pounds inside of your chest as you lean back on the countertop. 

Viper shifts to the side, her height dwarfing you easily. She stands in front of you, placing her palms on either side of your own and caging you in against the counter. 

“Do correct me if I’m wrong—” Viper’s voice is low, throaty in the way that it sounds when she first wakes up. You have to suppress the chill that runs down your spine. “But I can’t help but think you’re insinuating something. Is that right?” 

“You’re correct,” you whisper, swallowing the nerves in your throat. “Figured I should— uh—” 

Viper steps closer, her legs brushing against yours. 

“Return the favor,” you finish your sentence, albeit rushed. You take a deep breath, then repeat, “Figured I should return the favor. If you’re… still interested.” 

You feel like a mere mouse being sized up by the biggest apex predator you’ve ever seen. Viper is not just a snake— she’s a goddamn King Cobra, black-scaled and green eyes that could kill any man on sight. You know that if Viper wanted to, she could easily reduce you down to nothingness, and it sends a thrill down your spine. 

Viper tilts her head an inch to the side. “Didn’t think you’d be so bold, little mouse. Didn’t think you were interested, either.” 

“Sabine,” you whisper, your voice a drawl. Something in Viper’s eyes lights up at the usage of her name, said so reverently. “You should know that I’m very oblivious. Things need to be spelled out for little ol’ me.” 

“Spelled out?” Viper echoes your words. She leans back just enough to snap off the gloves on her hands, balling them up. She tosses them to the side and you get whiplash at how fast her hand moves after, sliding around your throat. Her mouth drifts close to yours and you find yourself tilting upward for a kiss that never comes. Instead, Viper merely ducks her head to your ear, then lets out the softest sigh, one that sends heat straight down your body, one that makes you think of other ways you could hear that very sound. 

“Fuck.” The curse from your mouth comes out strangled. You grab onto her coat, fisting the white fabric tightly. 

“I’ve been watching,” Viper murmurs into the shell of your ear, her breath warm. “I’ve been watching, little mouse, and I want. I want to make you scream, I want to make you moan, I want to make you cry, and I want to make you fall apart in my hands. Is that spelled out enough for you, mouse?” 

Oh, god. 

“Please kiss me,” you ask. Viper’s eyes shine. 

“No,” Viper replies, and your heart sinks into your stomach. “I don’t think I will. How unfair of you to make me wait yet demand a kiss of me once you finally come to your senses. No, you’re going to wait your turn like a good little girl, and let me finish my work. Do you understand?” 

You’ve never felt a heat like this burn inside of you before. It’s all encompassing, threatening to swallow you whole. Nodding shakily, you say, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” 

“So obedient,” Viper says, tracing her finger along your jaw. “Go back to your seat, finish your report. Do what I ask, and I’ll give you the world.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

She grins, and you swear you see rows of sharp teeth in her mouth before shaking yourself out of your delirium. Viper purrs, “Good girl.” 

Stepping to the side, she releases you from her hold and you feel like you’ve just been choked by a boa constrictor as you amble back to your seat. 

Holy fucking shit. 

You’re not going to survive once she’s through with you. 

~~~~~ A/N: WHEW goddaMN i love viper when she's mean 

#viper x reader #valorant viper x reader #viper #viper valorant #sabine callas #viper imagines #valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #valorant imagines

[undertale-writing-times]

The jealous prompt "hey, you okay? you look off..." with Dream, please?

Dream is so jealous in this haha.

Dream didn’t like bad feelings. He didn’t like feeling irritated or angry, it was a negative feeling and yes, they were needed, but he still didn’t like it! He didn’t like the idea of it.

He didn’t like to be mad, but damn it, he was. 

Today was a day in which he could not overlook it… no matter how hard he strained to.

You could ask him what was wrong, what was happening. 

Well, Ink decided to try to help Y/n figure out how to do this new thing of art. Just painting, and agreed to allow them to paint on her face. 

Y/n had their hand rested against Ink’s cheek, and was painting over her skull with the paint and Dream hated just how close they were together. 

This isn’t fair! Ink knew just how much he liked Y/n, and she was doing this just to mess with him! He knew it! He sat on the couch, tapping his fingers, trying to ignore what was happening just a little bit away. This is so annoying! Why was he so jealous?

He shouldn’t be jealous. 

Y/n wasn’t even his partner… It was fine that they were spending time with Ink! In fact, Dream was delighted that Ink and Y/n were spending time together! Even though Dream was the one that brought Y/n here in the first place.

They should be spending time with him.

He continued to rant and ramble in his head, his eyes narrowed slightly. Ink knew that Dream had a crush on Y/n, come on Ink, Dream normally doesn’t feel this kind of attachment to people that often. Why would you go and try to do this? 

Well… Ink might not have been trying to get him jealous, now that he thought about it. Ink wasn’t the most intelligent.

Dream’s eyes shoot over to see what they were doing, and Y/n was looking into their box to get a different brush. Ink looks at him, their eyes meeting, then she winks while sticking out her tongue. 

Dream stops himself from gasping. 

How dare she?

She knew exactly what she was doing! “Hey, Y/n, can you do a little heart on my cheek?” she reaches up, tapping her cheek. 

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Y/n says, with a smile on their face. They started to draw the heart to paint it.

Y/n had no idea what Ink was trying to do, and to be honest, neither did Dream. Why would Ink go and try to make Dream jealous? All of the star sanses knew about Dream’s crush. 

Blueberry has almost spilled the beans once or twice, both times Cross had to stop him. It meant a lot to Dream. 

He turns his head down and starts to complain to himself again, tapping his fingers on his knees. The positive feelings coming from Y/n was nice, but Dream wanted those positive feelings to be coming because of him! Not Ink who was doing this to make him jealous! Ahhhhh!

"Hey, you okay? You look off..." he heard, causing his body to tense, and he lifts his head quickly to look over. Y/n was looking at him, a frown on their face. They looked nervous.

"Oh- ah- yes... yes! Right, of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm peachy. Thank you for asking... what do you need? Are you okay?" he rests his head down against his fist, leaning on the couch pillow.

He saw Ink snort, putting her hand over her mouth. Ugh... rude. 

Y/n lets out a soft huh sound, before smiling and they shrug their shoulders "I'm alright, I'm working on the art stuff" They look back at Ink who was still giggling. "Ink decided to help me out" 

Ink, out of nowhere, perks up "Right! That reminds me" she starts, "Bye, Dream can help you!" she falls back off the couch into a puddle of ink to disappear. 

Y/n blinks and leans over the couch, looking down at the portal before it closes, and they frown, mumbling "what?" They look over at Dream.

Dream's eyeshines shoots down, then looks at them, and shuts his teeth tighter "You can... you can paint on me instead, if you want?" he asks, with a little smile poking his fingers together. 

They look over at him again, getting a small smile "Are you sure?" When he nods, they scoot closer again, "Alright, do you mind taking off your crown?"

Dream pauses, but nods slowly, and reaches up to take it off slowly. He normally hated to take it off but he didn't want Y/n to feel bad. So, for now, he figured it would be fine.

#Dream #Dreamtale #Dreamtale Dream #Dream Sans #Dreamtale Dream Sans #Dream X Reader #Reader X Dream #undertale alternate universe #undertale alternate timeline #undertale ask blog #undertale imagines #undertale au #Ink

[hoodoo12]

(De)Flower

@batxmasisrjuice ,who is a delightful person all around and I wish we lived closer so we could hang out, made a generous donation to Mr Alex Brightman for the Arthritis Foundation's Jingle Bell Run. She gets a story! You could too if you want; you have today to make a donation! Dm me the receipt and I'll write one for you. It can be personalized, it can be any character, it can be private (like others have asked for), it can be whatever! Just support a good cause!

NSFW, Beetlejuice x f!reader, losin' that virginity!

The constant barrage of innuendos, suggestions, and cartoon noises like honking or that stupid “A-OOOOga” sound first made you embarrassed. Then they were annoying. Then, one time when he surprised you with a particularly well timed hip thrust at something innocuous, you laughed. Your laughter startled him, but he couldn’t help grinning like the cat that got the cream. The breakthrough laughter made all of Beetlejuice’s poor attempts at flirting and seduction much more bearable. You even started calling his cheesy one liners “bad pick up lines”, which of course only encouraged him. By the time you felt comfortable enough with all of it to shoot back a “that’s what she said” after he said something completely normal, the two of you fell over each other laughing at the stupidity of it all. 

Then one night while you were simultaneously watching TV and your phone, the specter wandered in from the kitchen--you didn’t have the energy to wonder what he was doing in there--and out of the blue he said, “Hey babe. My crotch has been feeling extra dead lately. Wanna do some mouth to mouth on it?” “Okay. Sure.” Your response surprised him. You too, honestly, because you actually weren’t kidding.

“Ha ha,” Beetlejuice said, literally enunciating the fake laughter. “You got me.”

“No,” you replied, because for the first time the idea didn’t disgust you but actually aroused you a little, “I’m not.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. “Ha ha,” Beetlejuice repeated, although this time it was strained. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smile beginning to lift the corners of your lips. “Ha ha.” Now the two syllables had a touch of hysteria in them. “Beetlejuice,” you said, shifting on the couch to make room for him and to squeeze your thighs together, “come here. Sit down with me.” “Oh. Uh . . . geeze. I don’t know, babe, I, uh, got a . . . cake in the oven? A-and--” he stuttered, looking over his shoulder like looking for an escape route. 

“You do have some cake. I think I’d like a bite.” Pointedly you dropped your gaze to his middle, even if his ass wasn’t in view at this particular moment. 

Beetlejuice stared blankly at you for a moment, before a grin crept over his face. It wasn’t hungry or smug. In fact, you’d call it almost shy. The unexpectedness of him looking a little soft made your arousal flare a little; you patted the cushion beside you in invitation again. This time he walked forward as if his knees were locked, almost stumbling a little. “Bet your legs aren’t the only thing that’s stiff,” you said, and this time he couldn’t even choke out his ridiculous laugh. Finally standing in front of you, you reached up and fiddled with the row of buttons under his tie while you looked up at him. His chest rose and fell exactly as if he could breathe, like he was turned on too. His tongue, startling pink against the pallor of his lips, ran over them before disappearing again as he stared at your hands. A thought you’d only entertained to yourself, deep in the night, broke through the surface of your mind: “Would his mouth taste of wormwood?”

Without warning, you stood up. He didn’t step back to give you room, so you pressed solidly against the front of him. Your fingers slipped through the placket of his shirt and lightly rested against his skin. Now face to face, lips inches apart, you had the overwhelming urge to lick your own lips. “Babe, h-hey now--” He stuttered out your name. It was rare he used it, and that only made you want him more. “Yes?” you purred as you tilted your head for a better angle. “I, uh, uh, I--” His sentence never even had a chance to finish. You pressed your mouth against his and he lost capacity for speech. Truthfully, so did you.

It was awkward and fumbling, as first kisses tended to be. Beetlejuice didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands and it took him a moment to finally rest them on your hips, while your grip tightened in the fabric of his shirt. Your tongue slipped passed the seal of his lips and he groaned; everything escalated.

You pushed against him. He pushed against you. His tongue followed your lead and shoved into your mouth so quickly you had to take a breath, but once you were used to the invading feeling of it you returned the favor. It felt like more hands held your waist, and now there was one at the nape of your neck? A thin whining filled the air; it took you several moments to realize it came from him. Breathlessly, sightlessly, you worked the small chipped buttons of his shirt, trying to open it. Suddenly you were too hot. Your clothing was constricting, so you could only imagine how Beetlejuice’s trousers felt! You chuckled at your own thought as you finished all but the top button, under his tie. Your hands less occupied, you took his waist and physically spun him on his heel before pushing him down to the vacated couch. Not expecting that move, Beetlejuice dropped flat on his back. You pounced, straddling his legs. His jacket and shirt now open--although the striped shirt was still tethered at his neck and pinned in place by his suspenders--showcasing the pale expanse of his belly, you drew two fingers down it. Amusingly, the sparse hair scattered on him seemed to have taken on a pinkish hue. You giggled. Reaching the button on his pants, you made swift work of it before pausing to finally rid yourself of your shirt. And then bra, because those sucked in the best of times. Below you, Beetlejuice’s eyes comically widened to a bulge and once again, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They remained at his sides, trembling. “Oh come on. I know you’ve spied on me in the shower,” you chided, pushing your tits together to create cleavage. His mouth agape and his eyes glued to your nipples, he gave a ghost of a nod. Leaning forward over him, you dipped lower as if to kiss him again. Your lips close to his, you whispered, “You’re drooling.” Then you sat back up. Beetlejuice swiped his jacketed forearm over his lower face, never once taking his eyes off you. You weren’t even sure if he’d blinked recently. His zipper caught, so you had to look down to undo it the rest of the way. It came as no surprise to you that he wore nothing under his striped pants. Unkempt and decidedly mossy green, his pubic hair cushioned his erection. A dark spot in the fabric of his trousers showed where pre-come had been absorbed, but a new bead formed at the head while you watched. You realized the specter under you stopped making any noise. Glancing back up at his face, you were surprised to see that his eyes were closed and he was biting his lip so hard you’d have expected to see blood welling around his teeth. If he wasn’t, you know. Dead.

“Beej?” you asked quietly. 

He shook his head. “You okay?” He nodded, shook his head, and shrugged in the epitome of a non-answer.

“Beej . . .” Now unsure of what the heck was happening, you stopped. “I want you!” he blurted. “Oh god, I fucking want you so bad! But, but--” Your eyebrows raised while you gently stroked his stomach, you couldn’t wait to hear what the finale of that broken sentence could be. But ghosts and breathers can’t have sex? That ghosts and breathers make demon babies? That his dick had been chomped off by a shark and what you were seeing was a pricey, high-end Netherworld hologram? 

“--butIdon’tknowwhatI’mdoing,” Beetlejuice slurred. You couldn’t decipher that last part. “What?” He flinched. “I . . . I . . . don’t know what I’m doing.” Confused, you could only repeat, “What?”

He flinched again, and this time curled into himself a little, his eyes squeezed shut so hard wrinkles formed at his temples.. “I don’t know . . . anything. I have a general idea, I’ve seen enough people . . . doing it . . . but I. I just . . .” Hanging his head even more, he whispered, “I’ve never actually. You know. Done it. I . . . I’m a virgin.”

For a second you were stunned silent. A laugh tapped the back of your teeth, but luckily you were able to keep it in check. The way he hunched and his ashamed tone exuded pure embarrassment. As hard as it was to believe, he was telling the truth. “Oh!” you replied, a little too brightly, overcompensating for your surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry! We don’t have to do anything, I shouldn’t have been so aggressive--” Beetlejuice’s eyes shot open. 

“No, no--I want to!” he interrupted, almost desperately. “Please, you turn me on so much, I wanna, oh shit, I wanna do . . . all that! I just don’t know how, exactly, and I’m sorry, I’m so dumb, it’s so stupid--” You’d sort through the Ghost with the Most being a stone-cold virgin later. Right now, if he wanted, you were more than ready to go. It excited you, a little, that for all his blustery dirty talk he was inexperienced and you were going to be the one to pop his cherry. “Stop that,” you ordered, refusing to let him continue to put himself down. “Let’s do this thing.” You dropped your voice to mimic his trademark rasp, to try and get him to laugh. 

Instead, he just looked worried. “Are you sure you want to?” 

“Yes!” “Okay, then . . . how about . . .  I’ll do all the work. You can just lay back and enjoy it.” The worried expression on his face didn’t abate. You vowed to yourself to go slowly, no matter how excited you actually were now that this was happening. 

Standing back up, you shimmied out of your pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Leaning back over the specter who seemed frozen in place on your couch, you kissed him lightly, intending to strip him too. He didn’t seem to understand this was just a quick peck on the lips, however; he surged upward, straining from his core to keep in contact with your mouth. 

Laughing at his eagerness, you pushed him back down. Turning to midsection and legs, you unbuttoned his suspenders, took his waistband, and told him to lift his ass so you could get his pants off. He complied. Tugging the striped fabric down his legs, managing to turn them inside out as you did, you realized in your own eagerness he still had his boots on, stopping the whole process. Silently you wondered if you could just leave him hobbled around the ankles--

Snapping his fingers, everything below his waist disappeared. “You could have done that all along?!” “Uh-huh,” he agreed sheepishly. “But you seemed so determined and-and . . . I liked watching you.” “You’re such a creeper.” “A leopard doesn’t change its spots.” Narrowing your eyes, you only hummed in semi-agreement. At least he admitted he was a creep. His cock had paid attention too, still erect and now drooling over itself. The shine on it matched the shine on Beej’s lower lip. 

His eyes had grown dark in the light from the TV, and his chest rose and fell more quickly again. Tentatively, he reached for you. 

Carefully, you took up position over his thighs again. Now nothing separated you but air. Beetlejuice’s tremble had returned, and you found yourself shaking a little, too. His gaze took you in like a starving man offered a feast. One hand went to your knee, then the other, and his eyes were locked on the juncture of your thighs. “The first time should be something special,” you mused aloud. “Like, soft and easy. Just getting used to it, you know?” You dragged your fingernails down his chest, flicking the loose straps of his suspenders out of the way. You should have stripped him naked, but there was something exciting about just leaving him half-clothed while you were completely nude on top of  him. “I, uh--yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, still staring at your crotch, “but, uh . . . mostly . . .” “Mostly what?” “Mostly I just w-want to . . . fuck.” His voice cracked at the last word. His eyes darted up to yours, and he looked almost embarrassed he’d been so crude. You couldn’t help but laugh; he was nothing but inappropriate at the best of times and now that it was real he couldn’t handle it?

“Okay, you got it, Beetlejuice.”The use of his full name made him shudder deliciously below you. Licking your hand, you ran the spit through your pussy, then repeated it to lube his cock. He jumped and moaned at your touch. The sound didn’t abate as you held him in position so you could sink down onto him. No true foreplay meant a little extra stretch as he entered you, and you moaned too. Instead of dropping directly to the cradle of his pelvis you stroked lightly, up then down, getting a little deeper with each cycle. His hands on your knees tightened until the flesh around each finger was white but you continued until he was seated fully inside you. Panting, you paused. “Can’t say you’re a virgin anymore, Beej. How’s that?” Keening wordlessly with an obvious effort not to move, Beetlejuice could barely crank open his eyes to look at you. “It’s-it’s, oh my god--it’s so . . . fucking . . . good--!” “Uh-huh,” you agreed, and rocked just a little for some of that sweet friction. His eyes widened. “Oh shit, oh my god--that’s--it’s too much, I’m gonna--” Knowing exactly what he meant but being well versed enough that him getting off quickly didn’t mean that funtime was over, you rose up even higher and dropped back down with a little more intent. He keened. You did it again. He began an open-mouthed, undulating moan. You did it again, and again, adding a swift circular motion with your hips just for variety. Unexpectedly the specter under you bucked so hard you were almost unseated; you were suddenly glad he still had his shirt and jacket on as you grabbed them for stability. 

Beetlejuice had been drooling before; now he actively spit whenever he tried to force a word out. He writhed below you. At one point, when you leaned forward to adjust position, he licked your chin. Mistaking it for an attempt to kiss, you tried to return it but his jaw was too loose.

In under two minutes, Beetlejuice squeezed your knees so tightly they ached, arched under your weight, and wailed. 

Pausing, working for breath, you let him have his time during his climax. You did keep moving a little though, because it just felt good. 

When he was finally able to focus his eyes on you again, you smiled down at him. “I’m a fucking loser,” he croaked out, like his throat was dry. “You’re fucking, at least. Let’s hold out judgement on the loser thing.” He hung his head. “I . . . you . . . you didn’t get off. I think? I don’t really know, I couldn’t really tell . . .” “I didn’t.” He flinched, even more ashamed. “Hey. Hey! Listen,” you said. “That’s okay! First time, it’s not uncommon. You’ll get more stamina.” “I think . . .” Beetlejuice paused to consider something. “I think maybe . . .” His voice trailed off. “You think what?” you coaxed. “ . . . I think we should practice a lot more. Build up my stamina, you know?” Lightly you slapped his chest. “Come on, babe. Maybe I’ll need a sec to be able to do it again, but what can I do for you? Get you one of those fancy cinnamon dolce lattes you like so much? Or maybe, just maybe-- He took a moment to wipe around his mouth, as if removing any residual drool.  

“--maybe you’d like to go for a mustache ride?”

There was the Beetlejuice you knew. Shrieking with laughter, you slapped him again and told him you would like one of those fancy cinnamon dolce lattes, thank you very much and then the two of you could talk about additional physical activities. 

fin!

#Beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #for someone who deserves it #writing #fanfiction