#as far as i am concerned that is a ghost

[starfiresyugiohocs]

OC Profile: Nana

Full Name: Nana Mutou. Nicknames: Sunbeam (by her grandparents), Na-chan, BaNana. Aliases: N/A. Nationality: Japanese. Birthplace: Domino City, Japan. Gender: Female (she/her). Sexuality: Lesbian, possibly polyamorous. Age: 18-20 years old. Birthday: November 7th. Star Sign: Scorpio. Occupation: Psychology & Fine Arts student; counter clerk at Kame Game. Voiceclaim: Mae Whitman

Hair Color: Red, with blonde bangs. Hairstyle: Goes a bit past her shoulders, absolutely wild and untamable, very thick and has just that little bit off spike and fluff to it. Her bangs fall in a similar manner to her brother's and grandfather's, just without the spikiness. Eye Color: Aqua blue. Skintone: Deep tan. Notable Features: Being a 6'3" giant in a family of hobbits is pretty notable. Excess amount of freckles all over, pierced ears. Outfit Style: Very vibrant and/or pastel colors. Loves jeans that she's painted or has embroidery on them, and graphic tees. Very comfy and easy to move around in. Also has a ton of workout clothes. Accessories: Anklets are a big thing and she still wears friendship bracelets.

Personality: Bright and bubbly personality. Easily excitable, especially when it comes to her friends. She wants to be a positive influence, always encouraging others to reach their full potential. Lot of warmth and compassion in her heart. Still tends to be a bit lonely, thankful for the dear friends she's made but she struggled with making friends outside of her group. Gets flustered very easily. Mom Friend 24/7. Constantly looks out for everyone. Protective of her little brother, always trying to stick up for him. Very determined, can be a little stubborn at times. Has a harder time managing stress but is thankful for her psychology classes to help give her some blueprints. Hobbies: Painting, drawing, making jewelry, jogging, baking, reading comics, collecting knick knacks (i.e. fun mugs).  Habits/Mannerisms: Tugging at her bangs when she's nervous, snorting when she laughs, smile through the pain, bear hugs and spinning people around when excited. Likes: Cozy games, watercolors, animated movies (esp Ghibli films), being at the beach, board games, summer, fireworks, festivals, butterflies. Dislikes: Driving, egotistical people, the cold, snow, first person shooters, writing essays, when it's pitch dark. Favorite Food: Oyakodon, cookie cakes. Least Favorite Food: Cold soba.

Deck: Elemental Heroes. Signature Card(s): Elemental Hero Lady Heat. Ranking: Isn't as active in the tournament scene herself, and just tends to enjoy the game. She doesn't have near the win streak Yugi and Yami have, and I don't think she's ever beaten her Grandpa, but she's got a few wins under her belt!

Parents: Asami Mutou (deceased) and Hanzo Inaba (absent completely). Was raised by her grandparents, Solomon Mutou and Hina Mutou (nee Shimada). Sibling(s): Yugi Mutou (younger brother). By extension, she also comes to view the spirit of the Puzzle, Yami, as her brother as well. Extended Family: I would say consult the family tree, but it's pretty straight forward and she doesn't really have any. Pet(s): A Shiba Inu named Taro. Love Interest(s): Ishizu Ishtar, Nami Izumi (credit: @icychill) Extensive Relationships: See page here (coming soon)

History:

Born as the eldest child to her parents, with Yugi following after two years. Her father disappeared from their life not long after her brother was born and she doesn't have any real memory of him and is happy enough not needing to seek him out.

Grew up with a group of friends very dear to her and she developed deep bonds with and are the exact reason Yugi craves that connection with people; he saw the example from her.

Their mother passed away when Nana was eight and Yugi was six, leading to them living with their grandparents at the game shop full time; they'd been helping watch after them since they were little after all.

Yugi finds the Puzzle a year afterwards and while Nana tried solving it herself, found it was better to let Yugi try (mostly because she got frustrated)

Started up college not long before the first fic and is excited to become a therapist so she can help others!

#oc tag: nana #oc profile: nana #yugioh ocs #ygo ocs #yugioh #ygo #wow i actually figured out nana's parent situation #yes i know technically yugi's mom is alive in the manga but like #do you ever see that lady #i saw her twice ever. once to yell at yugi about socks and the other time she was with gramps when he got discharged at the hospital #you never see her #as far as i am concerned that is a ghost

[zkretchy]

@alllthequeenshorses you continue being too funy-have this for now and also thank you for all the tags they made my day(night?)!!

#the witcher #possession au #kiyan #geralt #the duo of kiyan and roach is also something terrifying to imagine thank you #i currently have 1(one) serious note in my...well note file of this #which is imagining the hell that would be cut loose #is kiyan was around for the threads quest aka 'hey karadin killed aiden help me get revenge' #but like...now you have a whole extra cat to consider who will be very pissed #lambert&kiyan ready to tear karadin apart rIGHT NOW #geralt having to be the reasonable one currently trying not to have every city on the way report them for gruesome murder #and also actually getting them to skellige etc #i KNOW in game you have the option to be nice and soft and not kill everyone...but like....I am not going for that #i dont think geralt would protect karadin either #i know the sniper died bc i was like 'oki lambs go have fun and do it how you want <333' and then woops i got to stab people #a win win as far as i'm concerned really #anyway thats again a completely different topic but yeah #in my griffins au aiden def gets to live bc there are a couple of kids ready to protect and fight for him #and while he will survive whenever i want this would prob keep it more like a hidden faked death case #just so i can imagine the terror ghost/demon kiyan could bring on top of everything #more fun #also apparently kiyan now got my trait of 'be quiet/more introverted a lot of time but also overshare and poke at everything bc emotional- #zoomies' or smth #idk i either do nothing or wanna run across the ceiling no betweens #rn its a ceilings case-I have been switching between 10 videos the past 2 minutes and am not relaxed/tired enough for anything relaxing #insert cat fuck/fight zoomies here i GUESS #how do you exhaust a ghost though.....fuck #art #zkretchy

[banglatown]

.

#in reality - on the relationship front anyway #i’m not ready for a relationship and i don’t think i ever have been #i’m incredibly emotional and immature and so i attract emotionally unavailable ppl … bc i myself am also emotionally unavailable … dude tht #was a tough pill to swallow i’ll tell you tht for free .. #but once i did realise .. a lot of my tendencies started to make sense and i started to be able to identify shit abt myself better and know #what i need and want #like trauma is horrible but like it doesn’t make any of us bad ppl … but we all need to stop ppl who trigger our abandonment or attachment #issues .. DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS #now you can be wondering ‘beebs .. how dyek they’re doing tht xyz’ #okay .. do they make you feel anxious? like not just 🦋 but like … ANXIOUS #like do you find yourself become unhinged so if they reply to you #… tht’s it … tht’s literally it #and how you stop them is … literally just remove them off of everything .. bloque bloque bloque #as far as they’re concerned you’re a fucking phantom (one of the few times i’ll excuse ghosting) #DO NOT EVER ACCEPT THT SHIT FROM NO ONE #bc none of our days r over and yk what … i do believe our persons are out there … i do 🪽🪽🪽 #but we need to be patient for them #n i do think the universe is on our sides yk #like i think it makes these ppl tht IT KNOWSSS are bad for us hurt us to push them away from us … bc we don’t need them bad vibrations #i leave you w this oscar wilde quote i love: #‘never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary’ #you’ve got this i’ve got this we’ve all got this 🧿 love n light #beebs.txt

[midamrevenant]

cringe as fucking hell for a piece of media to be anti-vegan in 2024. hannibal is running circles over you. HANNIBAL.

#this is abt dead b/oy detectives. - #which i am overall enjoying thus far but like….really? - #EDWIN P/AYNE (died 1916) CALLED HE WANTS H - #in general the morals of this show are really fucking weird which doesn’t surprise me necessarily as a show heavily concerning the… - #afterlife but like…god why did they have crystal turn those kids into the police for One Fucking Thing…. - #WHY R CRYSTAL AND CHARLES MAKING OUT HE’S BEEN A GHOST FOR 35 YEARS???? LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME WE’RE REALLY SUPPOSED TO… - #INTERNALIZE CHARLES AND EDWIN AS ~~~JUST TEENS LOL~~~ -

[shotmrmiller]

A familiar face pays you a visit a few days after you wake up next to a living Simon Riley.

"Captain MacTavish. You are much younger now than when I last saw you."

His crystal blue eyes widen when he realizes what you've said.

"Captain? That's what I am in yer time?" he asks, his disbelief apparent. "Did I also have a wife?"

Before you can answer him, Simon Ghost storms into the room and locks eyes with MacTavish, whose spine has gone stiff, expecting a reprimand.

"Get out, Sergeant. You're not to be in here again, understood?" his tone is austere.

"Aye, sir." MacTavish mouths an apology your way, and swiftly walks out the door, leaving you alone with the man who wears the face of your husband.

"You," he pivots on his heels to look at you, his eyes dark, swirling with fury, "are to talk to no one here. As far as I'm concerned, you're an enemy. Why the Captain hasn't locked you up in a cage is beyond me."

As you feel that unmistakable feeling of your throat tightening, your eyes well up with tears, causing your vision to blur. Your Simon would never look at you like that— never speak to you like this.

Understanding that this isn't a discussion, you turn away, clenching your jaw to suppress the overwhelming urge to sob. There is a sharp ache in your chest, a poignant sting that relentlessly pierces your heart.

But a harsh grip on your chin jerks your attention back to Ghost so abruptly your neck pops, and growls, "Don't turn your back to me, bint. I'm not done talkin'."

Meeting his gaze, your eyes betray you as tears overflow, tracing a path of glistening sorrow down your face.

"Now I see why you haven't married in this life," you choke out. "You're a bitter, foul shell of a man with no sympathy."

Angrily wiping your cheeks and grabbing at his thick wrist, you lurch it away from you.

You grab at the dog tags that have been hidden under your shirt. "I have been nothing but miserable since I met you. I loved my husband with everything I had and so painfully wished I had been buried with him."

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you remark, "You may share his body, but you are nothing like him."

"I don't know how anyone could ever grow to love you."

The room is quiet, except for your shaky breathing and occasional sniffle. Ghost remains stock-still in front of you, unblinking. He slowly rises to full height and silently walks out of the room.

You lift the dog tags to press a kiss onto them with a trembling hand, and your thumb runs over the engraved 'Simon "Ghost" Riley' on it.

What have you done?

it's gotta get worse before it gets better :( sorry!

@fruitymoonbeams-blog

part 1 part 3

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #multiverse cod

[ghosts-bandwagon]

141 + los vaqueros + könig with an s/o who is kind of naive and innocent being called dumb?? Just how they would react and comfort their s/o <33 thank you lovely!!!!

I love big strong men standing up for their sweet little s/o 😭

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

You gotta have some kinda death wish

I can’t imagine him getting violent off whip, his main concern would be removing you from the situation and providing comfort

However, that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t memorized who that person is, their face, their voice, their tone, their words

And that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t track them down later and give them a piece of his mind

Before he does that, his concern is you, he’s got your favorite show playing and he’s telling you it’s not worth thinking about what they said, he wishes he can take his own advice but when you’re curled up against his chest sniffling with a quivering lip, he’s imagining how satisfying it would be to run his fist through their face

Once you’ve fallen asleep, he’s tracking them down and when he finds them, in seconds he’s gripping the front of their shirt, lifting them slightly, their back bruising against the wall he’s pushing them against

“If I ever hear your voice again, I’ll crush your fuckin’ throat, am I clear?”

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He loves your sweet, good natured spirit, it gives him such genuine joy

He’s the only one that can poke fun at you because he’s not being malicious about it, it comes from a place of love and endearment

So when he sees a recruit making fun of you for it, he kinda loses it a little bit

Just like Ghost, his main concern is removing you from that situation but at the same time he’s pissed

So he’s wedging himself between you two with a strong emphasis on the person bringing you down, his chest is all puffed up, shoulders square, and he’s got the angriest look in his eyes

“Care to repeat what you said?”

He might not be as scary or intimidating as Ghost but that doesn’t mean that his strength is just for show either

The recruit backs away almost immediately but doesn’t get very far before Johnny grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back

“The next time I catch you even looking at them, you’ll be so fucking sorry.” The poison in his words thickening his accent in his throat and the poor idiot was tripping over his feet trying to get away

In seconds, Johnny turned to face you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your forehead

“C’mon darlin, let’s get somethin’ sweet for my sweet somethin’.” He teased with a wink and a bump of his hips against yours

John Price:

He loves your innocence honestly, it’s so refreshing for him

Like the first drink of ice water after spending a day in the desert heat, it soothes him as much as it concerns him

He teases you about it both out of love and genuine concern, he’s not always around and it worries him how innocent and kind you are

And then while you’re all out getting drinks and wrapping up a hard day’s work, he sees you getting picked on, he sees your shoulders slump ever so slightly and he crossed the room in seconds

Honestly? He doesn’t even have to say anything, his body language, his demeanor, the vicious look in his eyes, all speak volumes to how bad this guy fucked up

He stood behind you, a hand on your shoulder and whispering loving words in your ear, you’re a little confused as you walk back to the group, looking over your shoulder, not thinking to look in front of you (luckily Johnny gets hold of you before you walk into someone)

You can’t hear what he’s saying but you get the sense it’s pretty bad considering the guy loses all color in his face and sweat starts to bead on his brow

You wave at John with a smile as he walks back to you, he gathers you in his arms and pulls you in for a kiss

An offer of home and comfort shortly followed

How could you possibly refuse?

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Oh honey he’s poking fun at you very often, but always out of love, he loves your naivety and will often use it to tease you

He loves seeing you get all worked up, cheeks puffed up and an embarrassed blush on your cheeks when he calls you out on it, it warms his heart as much as it makes him wanna give you big ol’ smooch

However

He’s the only one allowed to do it

So when he sees one of the cadets try to pull one over you the way he does, but in a much meaner fashion that has embarrassed tears welling in your eyes, he sees red

He’s at your side in a matter of seconds, chest pushing against the other guy as he backs him away from you, he’s so angry he doesn’t know what to say, barely manages to put a filter on his words

“Think you’re so fuckin’ funny do ya? Makin’ ‘em upset, who the fuck do ya think you are?”

John has to step in and get between the two men, knowing full well how it’ll end, he physically turns Kyle around to face you and gives him a shove in your direction

Kyle takes your hand and walks away, grumbling all the while about how he should’ve punched the fuckers lights out, but when you lean into his side as you’re walking along, the anger starts to simmer and fade

It won’t be long before he’s mumbling an apology to you for how he reacted, just give him a kiss and he’ll be back to his normal self

König:

I mean… you gotta be some kinda stupid to mess with his s/o in any capacity, like have you seen him???

He’s never far from you, always in your peripheral or at your side, touching you in some way, it’s soothing for him to be around you and he knows you feel the same

So when he hears someone snap at you and call you dumb, he bites his cheek so hard he tasted blood

Without hesitation he pulled you away and behind him as he stood up at full height, glaring daggers at the man through the holes of his hood

He doesn’t even have to say anything, the angry rise and fall of his chest, the cold fury in his eyes, the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides are all indicators enough of his rage

The man couldn’t apologize and scramble away quick enough, tripping over a chair as he tried to make a hasty escape

König was frozen in place, so god damn angry that he couldn’t move, it took your small voice quietly calling his name for him to snap out of it, he turned to face you and gently took your hand in his, his thumb stroking over your knuckles

You smiled softly at him, even if he wasn’t looking directly at you, his eyes pinned to your hand in his, you gave it a gentle squeeze and he finally looked up at you

The adoration in your eyes enough to melt the fury and bring him back to himself, “Let’s go, schatz, you said you were hungry, yes?”

“A while ago, yeah.”

“Then let’s go remedy that.”

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro loves with his entire being, he’s so steadfast in his love that any slight against you, is a slight against him

“What the fuck did you say cabron?”

He’s up in arms almost immediately, hackles raised, nostrils flaring, fists clenched at his side and ready to swing

“Alejo, please, it’s fine.” He knew it wasn’t fine, he knew you wanted to put in a brave face but he didn’t miss the way your eyes watered or the way your jaw tensed when the insult was hurled at you

“No, amor, let him repeat himself. See if he’s man enough to say it again.”

He’s seeing red at this point, his heart is hammering in his chest and he’s ready to knock out the bastard

When he sees that the man is wide eyed, panicked, and stuttering out apologies, trying to gain some semblance of spine as he tries to make a hasty retreat, he backs off and moves closer to you

“Más le vale, cabron.” (Loose translation: that’s what I thought)

He’s got his arm around you and he’s walking you both away from scene,

“You didn’t have to do that, Ale.”

“What are you talking about, amor, of course I did. If you’re wounded, then so am I.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You teased with a small peck to his jaw, he chuckled and rested his head on yours as you both made your way home

Rodolfo Parra:

He’s too good for this world tbh he doesn’t give that idiot a second glance as he’s walking you away from him

He’s kissing your temple and shooting a glare over his shoulder, a promise of retribution in his eyes

“Don’t listen to them, mi vida.”

He’s nothing if not reassuring and comforting, he’s holding your hand and lovingly stroking it with his thumb

As he’s giving you a hug and kissing the top of your head, he’s thinking of all the ways he can wring the new recruit’s neck tomorrow

But that won’t stop him from spoiling you a little bit to cheer you up

Even if you’re insisting that you’re well over it and have moved past it, he’s just as insistent in getting your favorite food, watching your favorite movies

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Headcanons and Scenarios

Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?

Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661

Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb

Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333

My CoD Masterlist <3

Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)

❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!

❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.

❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.

❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.

❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.

❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.

❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?

You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..

Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.

"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.

"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"

❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.

❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.

A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.

If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.

My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.

A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.

Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))

#cod x reader #aethelwyne lia writes #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #ghost x plus size reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x y/n #dad!ghost #dad!simon

[nabtime]

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

#nap shitposts in the afterlife #naps fics #dp x dc #dpxdc #i leave the ending up to your imagination or someone elses potential continuation #i just had the funny idea that they'd all be good together. yes that includes Fright Knight. #have fun with the ship and ship name byyyeeee

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 19: Marking - Remus Lupin

Summary: Remus accidentally bites your neck too hard and leaves indents of his teeth, and now it's woken something within him, needing everyone to see the mark he's left on you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, possessive, biting, thigh riding, keeping quiet, licking, sucking, marking, oral (f receiving), size kink/difference, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Remus! You've left a mark on my fucking neck!” you huffed in frustration as you bared your neck further, trying to see the damage your boyfriend had left in your reflection in the cracked mission of the girl's bathroom. It was your favourite place to sneak away to have some alone time which, usually meant fucking against the stall as the bathroom on the third floor wasn’t in use due to the resident ghost, moaning Myrtle, who knew to travel elsewhere when you and Remus came to visit.

Your boyfriend was straightening his tie when he looked up at you, “Shit, did I?” To give him some credit, he sounded genuinely concerned as he came closer, turning your body to face him to inspect your neck. The tip of his index finger and thumb tilted your chin away gently, his forest green eyes dancing over the area of your neck that throbbed slightly. “Oh, I really did mark you up,” he acknowledged his warm breath that smelled faintly of your pussy drifting over your cheek, causing the area to warm in embarrassment. The pad of his thumb brushed over the indent of teeth marks, surrounded by irritated skin from where he’d bitten you during the heat of the moment.

“Does that hurt? When I touch it, does it hurt?” he asked, his voice softening with his gaze. 

“No, it doesn't hurt, but everyone is going to see it. I can't exactly walk around wearing a scarf during class; it's the middle of summer”. Stepping away from him, you rubbed over the area of your neck that had begun to tickle under his delicate touch. Looking up into his bright eyes, you noticed they were still staring at the spot where your fingers were now caressing.

Even though he appeared to be in somewhat of a serious mood, especially as his hands hurt you, there was something more, and fear crept up your spine that maybe the area had begun to appear worse. Quickly turning back to the mirror, you inspected your neck but found it seemed the same.

Your eyes wandered back up to your boyfriend, asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Remus continued to gaze at your bite mark, his scarred hand lifting to stroke along your jaw. “I don't know”, he admitted, but the deepness of his voice had your eyelids fluttering. “I just like seeing my mark on you. It’ll remind everyone who owns you.” Even though his words were possessive, the smile that peaked on his lips proved he was jesting.

Stepping closer until your neck was aching from a different reason to the mark as you had to tilt back so far to see up into his taller face. “Is that you talking or the possessive wolf?” your smile matched Remus until he was chuckling under his breath as you shoved him against his chest, laughing just as hard. “Asshole, you don’t own me, I am a strong, independent woman”.

Remus dipped his head, laughter still dancing in his eyes, but his words were full of a different type of tease, “Are you sure about that? Weren’t you just saying ‘im yours’ as I fucked you?”

He knew instantly that he’d won when you looked away, body heating in embarrassment. “Not the point”, you huff, returning to looking at your neck in the mirror. “Still doesn’t mean I want to walk around with a giant bite mark on my neck; what am I supposed to do?”

Remus rifles through his school bag until he found the well-used tin he always kept with him as it held a green salve that eased any injuries he’d gain from the full moon. “Come here”, he gently asks, holding out his hand for you to take as he walks into the light a bit more so he can see better. With as much care as he could muster, Remus carefully applied a light layer over the bite mark. You tried not to focus on his fingers' pressure or the intense stare that further warmed your skin. Remus had you wrapped around his little finger, that was for sure, and he could tell by the humming of your pounding heartbeat that he felt as he pressed against your throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a knowing smile spread across Remus’ face, but thankfully, he began to stand up to his full height, declaring, “All done, you’re as good as new”. He kisses your cheek dramatically before letting go so that you can return to the mirror. The bite mark had healed entirely, and a light sheen from the salve remained.

“Thank you!” you say rejoiced and relieved. Grabbing his hand, you begin to pull him towards the exit, “Come on, the others’ class should be finished by now.

The remainder of the day was pleasantly ordinary. However, you could constantly feel Remus’ eyes on your neck, to the point that you were checking in any reflective surfaces to see if the mark had returned, but it hadn’t. You weren’t sure if it was the desire you saw in his eyes or sympathy as he tended to regret accidentally hurting you through the rough, intimate moments, even as you pleaded with him that you loved every second.

The first time the two of you were finally by yourselves was when it was time for bed. “Is everything okay? You keep looking at my neck and making me paranoid”.

You’re both squished together in his bed in the men’s dormitory, facing one another and whispering so that the others couldn’t hear; even though the curtains were drawn closed, you both had to keep the volume entirely as silencing spells weren’t as effective in the beds which were only discovered after a highly embarrassing night.

Remus lifts his head to rest on his fist, staring down at you, “I just keep thinking about that mark on you”. Lowering his face, he gently kisses over the area of your throat where your pulse throbbed the hardest.

Sighing gently into the touch, you reciprocated the delicateness by running your fingers through his soft hair. “I kept thinking about how much I liked seeing it on you”. Ever the tease, Remus shifted further over your body, turning you slightly onto your back to allow his thigh to push between yours.

“You…did?” between your legs where Remus’ thigh was pressing on began to warm as he tried to keep his voice hushed, which meant that it sounded even more, hoarser than usual, and each draw of his words sent tingles straight to your core. Remus knew you were becoming more aroused and knew his effect on you. Carefully and without any rush, he cupped both of your hands together from behind his head and pushed them up so they were now above yours on the pillow as he held them in one hand.

He nods in answer to your question as he continues kissing up and down your exposed neck, which you bared fully for him. “I just keep thinking about everyone else seeing it, knowing I gave it to you, that you’re mine, and they can’t have you”.

A smile graces your lips as you say with a hint of tease, “You’re very possessive. Has anyone ever told you that, Mr Lupin?”

He groans deep in his chest whilst being mindful of the volume as his open mouth moves up your chin until he’s hovering over your lips, his breath mixing with yours as he confidently states, “You love it”.

You’re arching to try and kiss him, but he keeps moving away. “I do”, you admit which was all he was waiting for before kissing you deeply, breathing heavily against your cheek as your lips move in synchronised passion. His fingers tightened around your hands, holding you down entirely as your body seemed to react of its own accord, hips rolling and lowering so that your naked pussy could rub against the toned muscle of his thighs. As you ground down harder, your clit was massaged and tweaked against his body.

The kiss was momentarily paused as he dipped his face next to yours so that his lips hovered next to your ear as he asked, “Because I’m such a nice boyfriend, I’ll ask this time. Do I have permission to bite and suck wherever I like?”

You knew that he had more salve left in his tin, so without even thinking about it, you pleaded, “You have permission to do anything you want to me”.

Remus didn’t rush; he’d suffer the consequences of being tired tomorrow, but decided it was worth seeing you all riled up. With every inch of self-restraint, your boyfriend's lips caressed back down your neck, so softly that it tickled and caused your whole body to shiver. Especially as he licked certain areas and blew cool air across them, goosebumps would peak over your skin at the action.

As he reached your collarbones, he teased further but this time with his teeth, nipping sharply before easing the pain with a simple kiss. Lower he moved whilst still holding your hands above your head, his thigh remaining stable between yours so that you could continue to get yourself off. You were breathing heavily, back arched to try and move closer as he hovered about your perked nipple.

Remus licked the very tip of your nipple first to see how you’d react, smiling to himself when you accidentally let an innocent moan out before quickly biting your lower lip to shut up so that the others in the room didn’t hear. Shifting his face so that his mouth was just about your nipple, his mouth lowered and sucked harshly, his chin rubbing against your nipple, adding extra stimulation. Again, he licked over the area that now lightly throbbed from where all the blood had gathered at the surface, knowing it would be tender tomorrow.

He did this to each breast, avoiding your nipples altogether, which only made you feel more desperately turned on, which was evident by the wetness soaking the hair over his thighs. He moved, journeying down your sternum and stomach, leaving a sprinkling of bites and hickeys. The most sensitive area - where he had to hold a hand over your mouth to stop your cries - was the inside of your hips, where he knew you were ticklish, but as he sucked and then bit the area, your thighs trembled as the sensation pulsed desire to your core.

If your hands were free from their restraints, you’d have pushed his face lower, especially as the awkward position meant his thigh had disappeared. Thankfully, Remus knew you were melting in the palm of his hand, so he lowered to where you wished. Keeping one hand still holding your wrists and the other over your mouth, Remus was able to lower his face between your legs, which you spread willingly.

A single kiss against your folds had your eyebrows knitting together and moaning so desperate to be released that for a second, you didn’t care if anyone heard you. Remus wanted to release his groan as his lips were now coated in your juices, and he hadn’t even delved deeper yet.

“Gotta keep quiet for me. Can you do that, Love?” Remus asks so that his breath brushes against your core. You nod your head, deciding to bite your tongue instead of your lip as his hands disappear from both your mouth and hands so that he can grip both of your thighs, pushing them back so that you are spread out wider for him.

With a lick to his lips to taste you fully, he contemplated just getting right into it, but instead, he began to bite and mark your thighs. If he wasn’t biting, he was licking or sucking until you were shaking and grabbing to hold onto his hands that were still holding you. You were thoroughly drenched and begging for him to touch any of your pussy, but you made sure to keep your mouth shut. Even though it was dark in the cramped space of his enclosed bed, Remus could see how much you were losing your mind.

Finally snapping his restraint for holding back, he released his hold on your body and began to crawl up it instead until he crowded around you, all long limbs covering you completely. It wasn’t often that you both fucked in his bed, especially with everyone else in the room, because it was nearly impossible to stay quiet, which is why you both sneak away during the day to shag in a bathroom stool. However, Remus couldn’t deny his best girl from being pleasured how she wanted, now when she was currently coated in his marks.

“Silenco”, Remus waved his wand that had been hidden beneath the pillow, causing the atmosphere to sound as if cotton was in your ears, but even with the spell, the bed would creak, and the gaps in the curtains would leak out noise, but it was better than nothing.

You were soaked enough that he didn’t need lube or even spit as he reached between your bodies to swipe his cock between your folds, parting them to gather as much fluids as he could over his impressively sized cock. As he positioned himself at your entrance, he kept one hand over your mouth and then muffled himself by dipping his head between your neck and pressing his lips against your skin.

Your jaw trembled with the desperation to open it and let out the more pathetic of moans as he slowly thrust in, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust. Your hands settled over his back, careful of his sensitive scars, before digging your nails into the surrounding areas to pull him closer.

In the random areas across Hogwarts that he was able to pull you into supply cupboards or bathroom stalls, Remus fucked you relentlessly hard and fast until his pelvis was a blur. But, in the dormitory, on the rare occasions that you both did have sex, it was slow, with deep penetrations that filled you up to the very brim.

Every single drag of his cock had your eyes shut, with the overwhelming sensations dispersing through your nerves. It felt like he was touching every single part of you at the same time. Your walls fluttered around him as he moved deeper until the tip kissed your cervix, a sweet touch compared to his grip on your throat. It was almost like he was trying to hold you down like a dog in heat, and it did cross your mind to check whether the full moon was any time soon with how possessive he was being.

You’d cum twice by the time his thighs began to tremble, and he was no longer able to hold his tongue anymore. 

“Look so good with my marks on your body, so fucking pretty and desperate for me. Gonna make you mine, so full up and covered in my bites”. His hand rested over your abdomen as he spoke, caressing the area over your womb. “You gonna take it? Like you’ve taken my marks?”

You nod, your hands over your mouth now as you knew it would have been a blubbering sob that would wake everyone in the room if they hadn’t already awakened from Remus's demands. With a powerful thrust that nearly shoved you entirely up the bed, Remus stilled, but you could feel the pulse of his shaft and the way he trembled as his hot seed soaked into your hole.

Thankfully, you were already on a potion for birth control; otherwise, Remus probably would have made his breeding wish come true. After a couple of seconds of catching his breath, sweat coating both of your bodies from the humidity in the enclosed bed space, Remus finally collapsed next to you, turning your body onto its side so he could spoon around you.

You were exhausted and falling asleep before you could nuzzle into the feeling of his lips kissing the marks over your shoulder and neck soothingly. Thankfully there was no noise from any of the other bunks in the room so you assumed everyone had not been woken by the fucking.

The following day, you wake bleary-eyed, and Remus is kissing underneath your ear from where he still lay wrapped around you from behind. Stretching your body and groaning at the sensation of your muscles and joints waking for the day, you giggled as he nipped your ear lobe, “Morning”.

His voice was always so low and husky when he first woke up, but it only made you want to lean into him further, finding his voice soothing and comforting. However, your stomach grumbled to life, alerting both of you to your hunger, which made him chuckle. “I’m hungry too”, he declares, moving further down the bed to open the curtain, shuffling through the clothes on the floor before handing yours over and closing the curtain. From the sounds of it, the other boys were beginning to wake up as Remus changed in the dormitory and you in the curtained-off bed, giving you some privacy from everyone else.

Your muscles ached from the night's activities, but you didn’t think much of it, and it was too dark to notice the darkened areas on your body, which you, too, had forgotten about. Shuffling awkwardly, you eased back the curtain with a sing-song voice shouting, “Morning boys! The sun is shining; what a beautiful day!”

Sirius’ bunk was opposite yours; his curtains were pulled back as he sat up in bed with a soft smile at your morning antics. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he did a double take, looking over your body with wide eyes before it slowly shifted to a deep-set smirk.

Whistling lowly, he glanced between you and Remus. “Merlin Moony, did you try and chew your girlfriend to death last night?”

Your entire body burned with embarrassment as you looked at your knees, which were bare as you’d dressed in a skirt, seeing the apparent marks on the sensitive inner flesh. “Shit!” you cursed before grabbing your neck, remembering how much Remus had enjoyed playing there last night and shouting, “Shit!” again before rushing to the bathroom, thankful no one else was there.

The mirror in the bathroom gave you the perfect view of the thoroughly marked column of your throat. How could you have forgotten? You were mortified, to say the least. Remus casually leans against the door frame, tying his school time as you hide your embarrassed face in your hands.

“I’m never leaving this room ever again, Sirius is going to tell everyone!”

Remus’ warm body slides up behind yours as he eases your hands away from your face, “I’ll tell him not to, don’t worry. Anyway, I told you I like people seeing these marks on you; it makes me want to do more”. He begins to kiss along your jaw, your body instantly melting into the embrace before you snap out of it and elbows into his gut, pushing him away.

“Stop being so possessive and go and get the salve, please”.

Remus playfully rolls his eyes and then leans in close, whispering into your ear, “I’ll get rid of the ones on your neck and knee, but the ones under the clothes are staying”.

He didn’t even give you time to answer before he walked off, and you were feeling warm under the skin for an entirely different reason now as you thought about walking around all day with all his marks over your body. Maybe you would keep a few, you decided, especially when you get to see him riled up like last night.

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin one shot #harry potter smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine* #harry potter

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny: First official chapter

The busy hospital was on its last leg. Nurses and interns were scattered, running around like mice.

Sounds of trauma care patients and emergency care patients alarms were constantly ringing.

In the midst of it all, one calm collected doctor cared tenderly for each patient.

He, was Danny Fenton, who used to be known for having two crazy ghost enthusiasts for parents. He still loved his parents despite how hard it was growing up as half ghost.

Jazz had told them a long time ago and they had ignored it for the most part. Like that side of him didn't exist.

It had hurt at the time but Danny had managed to move past it. After successfully securing his position as ghost king (on accident) he put his newfound authority to good use making the ghosts swear a vow to behave.

A ghost vow is a big deal, which is why Danny swore a vow in return acknowledging them, if ever a ghost were in danger he would help them.

After the lack of ghost attacks Danny found he had next to nothing to do. His only hobby outside of playing video games had been ghost fighting. He hadn't realized how used to it he had gotten.

Danny hadn't even picked the college he wanted to go to yet.

Danny approached the Nasty Burger, his last refuge.

That's when he noticed a man who seemed a little out of it. The man stumbled making Danny wonder if he was drunk.

Danny turned to go inside when the man collapsed. Danny rushed over to the man and rolled him on his back. He checked for a pulse but couldn't find one.

Of course he wasn't exactly medically trained.

Danny dialed nine-one-one and started to perform CPR as best he could.

He explained to the operator clearly the situation and the ambulance came in no time.

Later that night Danny was processing the events in his head and instead of feeling scared or nervous he felt excited.

He was thrilled to have something to get his blood pumping again. Which is why he applied for med school. He studied hard, using all the time he had to memorize all the medical information that he could.

After graduation he interned at Amity Parks local hospital before moving up his position to resident.

Only a week after getting his new position he was forced to leave the hospital. It was closing because of a lack of funding.

"Please sir! What about the staff or the patients?"

The head of the medical board shook his head.

"Dr. Fenton, this hospital runs on little to nothing to begin with, we are lucky to have even made it this far. The patients will be transfered and the staff, relocated"

Danny furrowed his brows in concern.

"Don't worry Dr. Fenton, your quite literally the best we've seen walk these halls, your sure to get a good recommendation"

Danny clenched his fist.

"What are my options?" He asked.

The board looked at his sheet, flipping several until he found the right one on his clipboard.

"You said you wanted to work at a busy hospital right?"

Danny nodded yes.

"There aren't too many around here, the busiest hospital I can think of belongs to a crime ridden city a bit far  from here." He said.

"Gotham City"

Danny's breath hitched. He had heard about Gotham before. It was notorious for its villains.

Despite that, it was alluring.

"There! Send me to Gothams hospital!" He said suddenly and eagerly.

"Okay, if you say so. Do us all a favor and survive alright"

Danny laughed, "sure, I'll do my best. No promises though"

Just like that Danny packed up moved to Gotham.

He had little time to research Gotham before hand but he had heard several mutters in passing of a place called Crime Alley, a strange nickname for sure.

Danny was sure that this place would either be completely clean due to police intervention or incredibly overrun.

Danny signed a lease at the Shirley Apartments.

"Are you sure about this young man" the desk lady asked him.

He smiled kindly.

"Yes I am, I've heard the rumors and have weighed the risk. In the end it might be helpful to know just how my patients love to receive the injuries they do"

The lady sighed.

"That's right, you said your a doctor. Be careful out there, any talent in Gotham is either warped by a villain or destroyed"

Danny was a little startled by the warning, apparently there was even more to Gotham than he knew.

"I'm sorry I forgot to ask for your name"

"Didn't give one, in Gotham it's best to remain anonymous"

Danny blinked a little surprised.

"It's that dangerous, well I'll take your word for it then, thank you miss" he said as he took the key from her.

He had been able to store the old car his dad had given to him in a locked garage. He wasn't sure how well it would hold up but there was only so much he could do against humans.

Ghost powers had little, of any, effect on humans when it came to offense. Defensively they were pretty great to have.

He had only brought five boxes with him, no furniture. Back in Amity he had been busy studying and had brushed aside buying furniture.

Unfortunately that meant he had no bed.

Danny was glad to have found a beaten up wardrobe. It was missing it's doors and was leaning to the side, even so Danny was able to fix it and hang his clothes up in it.

He grabbed one of the boxes and smiled warmly when he saw a Fenton Emergency pack inside.

His mom must've stuffed it there when he was looking, lucky for him it had a sleeping bag.

An air mattress would've been nice too, but it's the thought that counts.

Danny safely stored his two favorite pictures. One of him with his family and one with his friends.

They were hidden just in case someone decided to break in, not that there would be much to find anyway but it never hurt to be careful.

Danny went to sleep soon after despite the sounds of the city.

Danny woke up feeling refreshed. He grabbed his bags and hopped in his car.

Danny hadn't realized how busy Gothams hospital actually was. Danny pulled into Gotham General and as soon as he was in his scrubs and coat he was dragged into the frey.

"We need a doctor over here!" Someone called just as Danny had finished with a patient.

Despite having to run around all day Danny wasn't tired, his ghost half supplied him energy after his human side ran dry.

All in all Danny first day on the job was hectic and he had worked for fourteen hours.

Once he was back in his apartment Danny set up a table that he had pre ordered online.

Then he got to work. According to his knowledge, most of his patients had suffered from some kind of attack or other.

Most of the heavy hitters were villains named Joker, Penguin and two face.

The riddler was taken care of, Poison Ivy had been rehabilitated and Harley Quinn had broken free from Jokers choke hold on her.

There was also the less obvious villains, like the business man lex Luther.

Lex Luther was shady at best, while no one could get hard evidence on him most people knew to be wary.

But just being informed didn't stop them from falling into his traps.

Lately Bruce had done official business with Lex Luther, which made him a suspicious person whom Danny had decided to keep tabs on, he was wary of the rich and for good reasons.

The cork board above Danny table has a litter of documents and pictured pined by red string. The players who were out of the game were crossed off.

Then there were the vigilantes. A few of them had been known to be rough, a necessary violence.

Still they seemed to have little awareness of what their little battles did to other people. Because many people came in for minor injuries due to being caught in the crossfire.

Which meant Danny had to find a way to keep everybody in line so patients would decrease in number. Danny let himself sleep for four hours before returning to the hospital.

"Oh my gosh, Doctor Fenton is still here" one nurse whispered. It had been a full day and half, Danny was running on his ghost half that seemed to keep replenishing itself due to the toxic air of Gotham. A positive side effect.

"How does he never get tired?"

"Maybe he's superhuman" one girl cracked. They noticed as he rushed by them to get to another patient.

"He's quite handsome too" one said wistfully, "but who wants a husband that works all the time"

Danny noticed the next patient seemed tense and he kept screaming for his daughter.

Danny whispered in the man's ear and put a hand on his forehead. He had used a ghost technique he learned from Nocturne and the man calmed down.

The other doctors were impressed as they worked to care for the man's injuries.

Finally the head of the unit noticed Danny and after reviewing his chart had forced him to go home.

"I don't feel fatigued at all sir, I promise I am not compromised. I can care for the patients"

The head wasn't having any of it.

"Above all your health is just as important as the patients we care for. For them to get healthy, you have to be healthy. Go home Dr.Fenton, you can come back after you get at least ten hours of sleep."

Danny wanted to argue but he knew the head was right.

"Yes sir" he said before changing into civilian clothes and leaving the hospital.

Now that he was out of a hospital setting things like hunger started to appear.

Maybe he had been to focused to notice how hungry he had been.

Danny blearily noticed a fast food place. His instincts told him the food would be greasy and way too unhealthy.

Mmm, comfort food.

The nostalgia fought with his doctoral instincts and won. All Danny wanted was to sit in a booth and eat some greasy food.

Danny ordered the double cheeseburger with bacon with a side of ten pieces chicken nuggets and large order of fries.

Waiting, even for five minutes, was starting to make Danny ravenous. As soon as he got his food he sat down and started gorging himself.

It was pretty good food for a little fast food place in the world's worst city.

Danny liked the tenderness and crispiness of the burger, the cheese was melted just right too.

Danny dipped his nuggets in sweet n' sour sauce while fighting the urge to kick his legs like a happy little kid.

As Danny left the restraint he saw an alert on his phone for a villain attack and rushed to the scene.

To his satisfaction the culprits were already being hauled away in police custody. They were just small fries, not of them appeared connected to a big player, so Danny was free to shut them out of his mind.

Which is exactly what he did. Danny drove back to his apartment and let out a sigh of relief.

That's when he noticed his door was slightly ajar.

His guard was up immediately. Danny stepped inside cautiously. He was relieved when everything appeared untouched but the scare had sent him a trip to get stronger locks.

On his way back to his car from the store he heard sound of a glass bottle breaking in a nearby alley. It was small alley, from what Danny could tell it was also a dead end alley.

Taking a risk Danny stepped in and chills went down his spine when he heard labored breathing.

Danny rushed over and froze at what he saw.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc universe #batman #dpxdc #redhood #JL #DoctorDanny #batfam

[hitomisuzuya]

HIIII HOW ARE YOU!?!!?!?! I HAVE A GREAT IDEA

HOW ABOUT INNOCENT CONCUBINE USER X TYRANT EMPEROR SCARA SMUT!!!

HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL!!!

- 🎧

Scaramouche x fem!reader Smut. Handjob. A dash of breeding kink.

I know what concubine means, but I wasn't sure what concubine user met.

What Scaramouche wants, Scaramouche gets. And what he wanted was you.

The second he laid eyes on you, you in all your shy innocence waiting to be corrupted and defiled by him, he had to have you. You are his favorite girl, his only favorite girl.

As far as he was concerned, any other concubines sent to him would automatically be assigned to be your handmaidens and that was that. He kept you close by his side, even getting twice as bratty when he had to leave your side or couldn't have you with him.

Even a tyrant ruler needed someone by his side.

You'd looked especially shy, with all that breakable innocence, when he asked you to cock warm him during an important meeting with advisors. You are always so eager to please him.

Scaramouche sighed and rested back against your chest, the warm water in the large bath tub did little soothe him though. "Incompetence is exhausting," You felt one of his hands squeeze your thigh as he settled between your legs.

You put your arms around him, trailing a hand down his chest. "Let me help you relax," He felt a tremble quiver through your hand. He knew what you were thinking, 'I can't believe I just said that, but I like it' was no doubt echoing in your head. You put your lips next to his ear, "my Lord."

Scaramouche could practically sense the shy blush on your cheeks. You always made his cock twitch and harden when you called him my Lord.

Your fingers ghosted featherlight over his nipples, hearing him sigh shakily. You gently pinched and skimmed your thumb across one, you hand dipping down between his legs.

His hips jerked to rut into your hand when you grasped his cock, rubbing your thumb on the head. You palmed and rubbed his cock, earning a soft moan from him.

You felt like melt against you as you wrapped your hand around his cock, squeezing before pumping your hand. The sound of water sloshing around in the bath tub could be hard as you jacked him off.

"Fuck..fuck..I am going to fill your slutty cunt twice tonight for this," Scaramouche groaned, his eyes rolling closed as his cock pulsed and throbbed in your hand.

"Please do, my Lord," You swept your hand up to pinch the head of his cock, "Who knows, maybe tonight will be the night."

Scaramouche's cock throbbed more in your hand when you mentioned he might get you pregnant. The mere thought of fucking you full enough to knock you up hardened his cock more in your hand, his moans echoing around the bathroom.

He lost himself in the pleasure your hand was providing for him. Your other hand pinched and played with his nipples. High pitched whimpers and moans sounded from him, his legs shaking as he fucked himself into your hand.

Cum spurted into your hand and into the bathwater. Your hand never faltered, nursing him through his orgasm. It only stopped when his hips stilled. He rested back against you, panting.

After a few moments, he made a motion at you with his hand, signalling that he wanted you to leaned around him. He stole your lips up in a soft kiss, changing positions with you.

Scaramouche fully intended to play with your cunt until you begged him to empty himself twice in you like he promised.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #au #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost cod #ceil writing #cod modern warfare

[reiding-writing]

may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3

malfunction [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.

WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying

pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33

It was late.

12:06AM to be exact.

Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.

You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.

It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.

You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.

Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.

You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.

You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.

It didn’t last for very long.

A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.

Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.

Then they turn to Spencer.

Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.

“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.

“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”

"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."

“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.

Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.

“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”

“Reid- Calm down.”

You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.

"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."

But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.

He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.

“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.

Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"

“We’re going to be fine,”

You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”

"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.

He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"

“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”

Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.

It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.

He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.

Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.

His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.

He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.

The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.

“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”

“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.

“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.

“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.

You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.

“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”

He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.

“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.

“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.

He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.

You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.

As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.

You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.

But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.

“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”

“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”

You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.

It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.

You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.

He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.

That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.

That’s something that he’d never want.

“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.

“Reid…”

“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.

“Reid-“

“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“

“Spencer.”

You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”

“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”

He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”

“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”

“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”

You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”

“Why would he do that?”

You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”

“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.

“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”

“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”

“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”

Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.

“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.

Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.

“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.

“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.

“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”

“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”

Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”

The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.

Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“

“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”

“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”

“I just-”

You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”

Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?

He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.

He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.

God he was pathetic.

Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.

On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.

A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.

His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.

“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.

“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”

"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."

He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."

"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."

Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.

“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.

The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.

“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”

“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.

“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.

“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.

He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.

“That would be great, thank you…”

“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”

He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

[xysidhequeen]

The King and his Red Knight

DPxDC crossover fic

Part 1

Really sorry to everyone who suffered through the fact that I didn't know about the existence of readmore. I can't fix the thread now but the individual posts are better? Sorry I have like a very rough idea of how this site works 😭

Check the: The King and his Red Knight tag to find all the parts

"Go here, Danny. Go then, Danny. Go to a random cemetery in the middle of the night for no reason, Danny." A voice grumbled, accompanied by the sound of sneakers rhythmically tapping stone.

Danny Fenton, currently Phantom, sat on a gravestone, his white hair a beacon in the dark night. There were no stars in the sky for him to gaze upon, their light hidden behind swaths of smog and neon lights playing off the gray clouds.

Clockwork had dumped him here, with no explanation for why. Not that he ever really explained much when he sent Danny off on his tasks. He supposed he should be grateful, at least he was in the same when rather than being transported a thousand years into the past.

"Wait here King Phantom. You will understand in time." Danny mimicked his mentor's voice as he let himself float off the grave he'd been dumped on after Clockwork shoved him out of a portal. His body floated higher until he could flip around, his legs crossing. He sat upside down, his chin in his palm as he glared petulantly at the assembled gravestones surrounding him, his toxic green eyes glowing.

"So far all I've seen is a concerning amount of ecotplasm for a city without a ghost portal and some blob ghosts! How long am I supposed to wait here?" Danny asked the air, and the aforementioned blob ghosts who were hanging off his body, soaking in the ambient ecotoplasm he radiated at all times now.

Neither provided him with an answer to his question and Danny let out a frustrated groan as he lowered his still flipped body to look once more on the gravestone he'd been tasked with waiting on.

Jason Todd, the name read. The dates, too close together, made something in Danny squeeze painfully. He'd been young, barely older than Danny when he stepped into the portal. Only for this teenager there had been no ectoplasm to bind to his dying body and repair the damage of death and force him back into a semblance of life.

"Who were you and why did Clockwork send me to you?" Danny asked the gravestone, one clawed finger tracing the words before he pulled back with a sigh when the gravestone gave him no explanation. The dead didn't always speak, not even to their king.

Turning his body Danny looked over the rest of the cemetery. It was empty, as most usually were this time of night, of the living. There were a few shades wandering around, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence. No full ghosts though, but oddly enough there rarely were in cemeteries. This was where the dead came to rest. To remember, if they wanted to. Cemeteries were sacred spaces to the dead, much as a temple or a church would be for the living who were religious. Ghosts who still clung to life, to their obsessions, did not frequent cemeteries, did not dare trespass and disturb those who had already found their peace.

Danny himself was an oddity. He had never shied from cemeteries, enjoying the peace he found in them, the guarantee of safety offered. And perhaps, he mourned that he himself would never have a gravestone for the living to place their flowers and their tears at. Who would make a grave for someone who was both alive and dead? There would never be a body to bury for him. His human half would continue to live on so long as his ghost core remained and could fuel it.

Maybe that was why he found peace in cemeteries, for all his whining that Clockwork had dumped him here. Cemeteries were for the living and the dead, one of the only places both existed in harmony naturally. For someone who was as much dead as he was alive such a place held a certain degree of belonging for him.

Danny straightened out in the air, letting his body lie above the grave as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the covered sky. He complained and whined about this task, but he was secretly glad that Clockwork had given him something to do. Even if it was just 'hang out in a random cemetary'.

Ever since he'd graduated high-school, revealed himself to his parents and discovered how deep prejudice and hate could run, and he'd run away to the Infinite Realms for sanctuary while his friends moved forward with their lives, he'd felt unmoored. A ghost with no haunt. Bored was too light a word for the gaping emptiness he felt in his chest, for the loneliness clawing at him. Clockwork, Wulf, Pandora they could help chip at the ache inside of him but not banish it. Not now that his family, his friends, were spread so far apart and so distant from him.

Not that he resented their choices, their distance, in fact he'd fought for them to do just that, to get out of Amity Park, to go to college, to become more than overworked teen superheroes. Still he missed them, even if he could visit them whenever he wanted. It was becoming clear as time moved forward that the world they belonged to and the one he did were two different things.

Danny Fenton couldn't go to college when his parents had declared him dead. Danny Fenton didn't exist as far as the government was concerned. Danny Phantom couldn't return to Amity when those same parents were waiting to capture him and tear him apart 'molecule by molecule'. Danny Phantom couldn't go back when the GIW were crawling over the town like ants.

So neither Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom returned to Amity after that day. And he made sure they couldnt follow him when he ensured the portal that took his life to function never opened again. He didn't need the portal any longer to get in and out of the Infinite Realms, and it was safer for the ghosts, his subjects, if the temptation of the Fenton portal was gone.

The world of the living was not yet ready to accept that the dead didn't always stay dead. And Danny would keep his people safe until they were.

Danny jolted from his lazing state of reverie when a pulse of emotion rocked through him, the strength of it stealing his breath if he had any to take.

Fear/Trapped/Dark/Fear/Help/HELP pounded into him and Danny frantically flipped around, head swiveling, poisonous green eyes wide as he triedf to locate the source. The emotions, the plea for help, burned his core, his Obsession screamed at him.

Help/SomeonePlease/Dark/Trapped/CANTBREATHE/HELP another wave of messages, of emotions pushed themselves at Danny and this time underneath the onslaught he could hear a rhythmic thudding. Danny looked down, horror filling him when he realized the thudding was coming from under the ground. From the grave he'd been hovering over for an hour now.

Danny flew down, sending back a wave of I'mHere/HelpIsComing/I'mComing to the boy trapped in his own coffin, feeling the intense wave of relief and hope sent back before he dived into the earth as if it wasn't there. Danny paused for a moment when he passed the thick wooden coffin, seeing a boy in the dark with wide, panicked blue eyes and fingers tipped with shredded nails and fresh blood.

"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" Danny told the boy, keeping his voice gentle, soft. The boy jolted, fixating on the only source of light, Danny's growing green eyes. Danny hoped his smile came off as calming instead of 'freaky AF' as Tucker liked to call it. He grabbed the boy, Jason, as carefully as he could and then let his intangibility wash over the terrified teen as he lifted them both out of the coffin.

When they emerged from the coffin and the ground Danny set the teen down, leaning him against the gravestone, his own gravestone, and pulled back a bit. The boy was gasping in air as if the fetid, polluted air was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Danny tilted his head as he watched the boy ground himself. Now that the emotions were leveling out and his Obsession was purring in contentment rather than growling in a frenzy, Danny could feel something off about the boy.

Disregarding the fact that he'd just come back from the dead, of course. But that wasn't the oddest thing Danny had seen in his afterlife. No the boy felt... not like a normal, living human. Not even like an Amity Park resident, who all felt more than slightly liminal. No this boy, this Jason Todd, felt closer to liminal than even Jazz, Tucker or Sam, who were three of the most liminal humans Danny had ever been around.

Jason felt almost...like a ghost. But not. Danny could feel the tickle in his throat that proceeded his ghost sense but the tell-tale mist never emerged. It was as if Jason was...like him. But Danny couldn't sense a core either. Even halfas had cores.

"Who are you?" Jason spoke, breaking Danny from his thoughts and examination. Jason was looking at him with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Which, fair. Danny had just pulled him from his own coffin and there were so many questions that could stem from all of this, disregarding all the weirdness that was just Danny himself.

"I'm Danny, Danny Phantom. Or just Phantom. I go by either. And you're Jason, right?" Danny asked, smiling at the teen and oops, yeah that was definitely his scary smile based on the slight flinch there. It wasn't his fault his teeth were too sharp now and his lips split a bit too wide.

"How did you know that?" Jason asked, blue eyes narrowing. Danny nodded at the gravestone the boy was leaning against with a raised brow. Jason turned and almost toppled over from the movement. Danny frowned as the boy caught himself on his gravestone. His skin was still pale, too pale, and as Danny watched Jason swayed again.

"Shit. You're fading. You didn't form a core and your body isn't stabilizing." Danny cursed, moving towards the boy who scrambled back, only to be stopped by his grave.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, hands fisting as he tried to rise only to fall back to the ground when his legs refused to hold his weight.

"Saving your life. The dead aren't supposed to come back. There's always a price to pay, a balance that is struck. Currently, as you are, if I don't get enough ectoplasm in you to form your core, you'll fade and turn into a brain-dead husk." Danny told Jason, tone stern and no nonsense as he grabbed him. Jason made an effort to break free, but it was weak, and even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break Danny's hold. Few in this realm could.

If they had the time, Danny would've approached this situation in a far different manner, but this close he could hear Jason's heartbeat, a weak flutter in his chest, skipping beats as it tried to fuel a body that was past saving. Jason didn't have the time for Danny to approach this gently and kindly, to coax trust out of the teen like he would a feral cat.

Jason had minutes left before his ectoplasm starved body consumed itself trying to make a core and failed because while wherever they were had more ambient ectoplasm than most places, it was far from enough to sustain the birth of a halfa. Maybe if Jason had stayed dead for another year, he'd have naturally formed a core and risen as a proper ghost. But that wasn't what happened, somehow he'd gathered enough to fix his body of whatever wounds or illness had put him in that coffin to begin with and come back to 'life' but without a core to sustain his body he'd be dead, again, in minutes. And Danny was not about to watch while a teenager, another teenager, died.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Jason hissed as Danny pushed his arms down and laid his clawed hands on Jason's chest.

"You don't. But you don't have another choice." Danny said with a shrug. "Now are you going to let me save your life or not?" Danny asked, not moving his hands. He'd save Jason either way but this would be easier if Jason worked with him.

"Fine." Jason spat and Danny smirked as his hands began to glow a toxic green that matched his eyes.

Ectoplasm pooled out of his hands and rushed into Jason, filling him until the boy glowed bright enough to rival the neon lights of the city around them. The green light flared around him like an aura, slowly shrinking but getting impossibly brighter as the glow centralized around his chest until a small glowing ball of green, like a trapped star, blazed from his chest.

Jason gasped, back arching as Danny pulled his hands away and the light vanished under Jason's skin. For a moment Jason's blue eyes burned green and his hair flashed snow white before returning to black, with one single lock of unearthly white left above his forehead. Jason collapsed back against his grave, chest heaving. Danny watched, eyes full of a sad understanding.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason panted out.

"Welcome to the world of the half alive, half dead." Danny said with a smile. "Want to get a burger and talk about it?" He asked, standing up and dusting off his hands.

"Make it a chili dog and you've got a deal."

~~~~~

Fixed some typos added some lines

Maybe I'll continue this AU. Maybe not. This scene was in my head for days and I wanted to share

#dc x dp #Clockwork:And the new Fright Knight is born #Danny said im going to adopt kids from cemetaries now its my thing #Clockwork thought Danny needed more friends so he located the teenager closest to Dannys age and most compatible to being a halfa #Dani: Does this make him my brother or an uncle or what? #Bruce isnt getting this one back #not for awhile anyways #Danny has to teach Jason the ways of the halfa #He gets Jason ghost guns and Jason is very content with that #also with all the fighting he gets to do because thats like how ghosts say hello #Jason also takes one look at Fright Knight's sword and says: I want that gimme #Fright Knight and Skulker take to Jason very quickly and enjoy training him #Jason and Skulker shootouts range half the ghost zone and Danny is just amused #Eventually Jason asks Danny if he wants to help him prank his family and Danny is 100% on board #the red hood arrives back in Gotham with 100% less heads in a dufflebag but 1000% more chaos #Jason and Danny legit haunt the mannor for a few months and convince everyone BUT Alfred theyre conventional ghosts #Danny also adopts Tim during this time because Bruce obviously cant take care of this neglected child and Danny said bet this is mine now #danny phantom #jason todd #batfam #dp x dc #danny phantom au #phantom au #danny phantom fic #The King and his Red Knight #The King and his Red Knight AU #TKAHRK AU #Red Knight AU

[drabblesandimagines]

Imperfections

Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy festive nonsense

Leon squints at the small piece of paper, trying to decipher the name upon it. It’s not the handwriting he’s struggling with, more the fact he probably does need reading glasses and he hates to admit it. He looks around, making sure no-one is looking in his direction and holds it aloft, trying to find the perfect spot where the blurry squiggles will finally transform into a name.

A name he knows all too well, it turns out.

Yours.

You’ve been working for the department just shy of a year – a new recruit in February – and had been partnered with him on a fair few missions. He’d underestimated you at first, mistakeably deemed you too sweet a thing to be wrapped up in this sort of business, but you’d shown him your mettle from the off and especially when things had got dicey – held your own, got the job done, saved his ass a couple of times and all usually with that beautiful smile on your face.

God, Kennedy, he chides himself, smitten or what?

He folds up the slip of paper, sticks it in his wallet for safe-keeping and his mind begins to whirl - what in the hell is he going to get you?

Secret Santa at the DSO – a bit of holiday nonsense put forward as a suggestion to ‘boost morale’ and apparently the President had loved it, has thrown together a whole Holiday Mixer around having the exchange. Everyone working here isn’t depressed due to a lack of Christmas spirit, more the state of the world itself and the dark depths they’re forced to confront…

But, hey, Leon S Kennedy will do as he’s told as far as the President’s concerned, and so he’d stuck his hand in the Santa hat when it had been thrust in his direction, full of his colleagues’ names.

There’s rules – has to be in government-officiated fun – gifts to be exchanged at the Holiday Mixer in a week’s time and, to try and avoid an influx of gift cards and novelty socks, it must include a handmade element, with a $25 limit.

“So,” you plonk yourself down on his desk - right on a pile of manilla folders that were left there earlier for his upcoming briefing and he’d yet to tackle - and lean in, “who’d you get?”

He sweeps his hair out of his eyes and sits back a little in his chair to take you all in. “Uh-uh, that’s against the rules.” You roll your eyes at that. “And since when has Leon Kennedy been a stickler for the rules?”

“I just don’t wanna be on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Fine.” You pout, crossing your arms in fake annoyance. “I won’t tell you who I got either.”

“Good, cos I don’t remember asking... And don't make an old man joke."

“Wasn't gonna." He gives you a look and you can't help but smile. "Okay, but seriously - I get the handmade rule, I do,” you shuffle back a little more on his desk, making yourself comfortable as you get to your point, “but what I don’t get is why it’s mandatory to participate in the whole thing.”

“It’s not really mandatory. We’re a small operation – you don’t participate, you’ll show up on the President’s radar for not being a team player. You know he’s all about that.”

“Well, make us do a team building exercise - build a bridge out of newspaper, do trust falls or something besides try and be crafty.”

Leon scoffs. “I’m not doing a trust fall with you – not after last time.”

You open your mouth to reply – that was most definitely not meant to be a trust fall, Leon had just straight up fell - when Hunnigan pops her head around the cubicle, not even surprised to see you sitting on his desk, and gives the two of you a polite smile.

“Kennedy – intel briefing set for 1200. You prepped?”

“Sure am.”

Hunnigan eyes the pile of folders she clearly remembered placing on his desk first thing this morning, the exact ones which are nestled underneath your thighs.

“Uh-huh… Conference room seven. See you there.” She turns on her heels and departs, and you feel Leon’s hand ghost your thigh.

You look down, a little startled – sure there’s been flirtatious touches here and there, a time where you would’ve bet that month’s pay check that he was gonna kiss you after a particularly close call but swerved for your cheek at the last moment – and realise he’s tugging at the corner of a folder.

“Whilst I won’t deny that you’re an awful pretty paperweight, mind if I get back to work now?”

 You slide off – managing not to take the folders down with you - and mock a salute. “Yes, sir.”

--

The briefing is dull, which should be a good thing, really. No current BOW threats on the radar, though the threat level remains at orange. Leon can’t remember the last time they lowered it to yellow, so it seems a pointless system to him but he still throws in his two cents when called upon. He’s got another few weeks of desk duty to get through after Alcatraz after his medical - knows he’s not getting any younger and that’s why it’s taking him a little longer to recover after quite the beating.

Dismissed from the briefing, Leon swings by your desk on the way back to his, only to feel a little silly when he’s disappointed at the lack of you at it. There’s a shoebox sat on your desk though, lid taped on with a few rounds of parcel tape, but overall it looks a more than just a little worse for wear - crumpled corners and scuff marks all over the cardboard.

“Snooping, Kennedy?”

He can’t help the smile when you come to his side, your laptop tucked under your arm – must’ve had a meeting of your own. He holds up his mug, waving it from side to side in demonstration. “Was gonna see if you wanted a coffee, actually. That package looks a little suspect to get through the security check, right?”

You place your laptop down beside it and frown, before reading the return address. “Oh, no. It’s just some things that I asked my ex to send on. I forgot them in the move, only realized when I went to put my tree up last week…”

You trail off as you move the box towards you ever so slightly and there’s a horrible clinking sound that makes your stomach sink.

You grab a biro, jamming it through the tape lined around the edge as a make-shift knife and tentatively pull off the lid, bracing yourself for what you might discover within. Whilst you had safely stored them away in layers of bubble wrap, each in its own bo, he seems to have dumped them all out into the shoe box, one layer of bubble wrap on the bottom, another on top and they’ve obviously cracked together in transit, resulting in the shattered mess before you.

“Shit.” He comments, softly, watching as you pick up shards. “What are they?”

“My grandmother’s baubles.” Your voice goes flat as you pick up pieces of what once were precious memories and his heart aches. “She was a really talented artist before the arthritis got bad… Used to paint these and sell them at Christmas fairs.”

He’s silent as you continue picking through the pieces. There’s one that seems mostly intact, a smaller one but after further investigation there’s a big chunk missing from the side and you drop it back down in the box in defeat. Leon lays his hand on your shoulder then, seeing how you almost deflate in front of his very eyes, and he hopes to give you a reassuring squeeze – to let you know he’s here, he's always here for you, even if he’s not going to say it aloud. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” But he knows it’s not by how tight your voice is. You’ve never got emotional in front of him before, not even when you’d been injured had you let that stupid, gorgeous smile falter. “I… I have to head out. I’ll see you later.”

You place the lid back on the shoebox and shove it off the desk. It lands in the waste basket with another awful sound of broken ceramic.

“Whoa, wait, don’t you wan-?” He begins to protest but you shrug his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head and now keeping your eyes downcast.

“Sorry, I really have to go.” He swears you just about jog out of his sight, no real destination in mind.

Leon doesn’t see you the rest of the day, though he swings by your desk a few more times when he gets up to stretch his legs. The maintenance team will be in later – dispose of the shredded paperwork, wipe down surfaces empty the waste baskets… so he doesn’t think twice when he picks up the shoebox as he leaves, holding it tightly in the crook of his arm as if it were the broken pieces of your heart.

--

Later that evening after dinner, he sits on his sofa, changed into his sweats rather than stuffy shirt and suit trousers, a soda on the table in a heavy-bottomed glass – doesn’t drink anymore, isn’t worth it, but he still likes the weight of a good glass in his hand – with his laptop perched on his knees.

The cursor blinks in place before he slowly types in the search bar.

How to fix a broken ceramic bauble.

He’s good with his hands from weapons maintenance, can handle delicate stuff, so why couldn’t he glue some bits of ceramic back together into a sphere?

He scrolls down the search results – various how-to articles and videos. He reads through a few, learns that it can depend on such factors of where the break occurred, if it’s clean break or not, how thick the ceramic is and, after all that, there’s the danger it could look like a kid put it together for their mom at kindergarten with a pot of PVA glue and got bored halfway through.

He’s not put off, though, as he continues his scroll until something bright and gold catches his eye…

Kintsugi?

Huh. Sounds… promising.

--

He does a test first. Practice makes perfect, and he’s determined he will make them as close to perfect again as he can… once he’s sure he’s got the hang of it. He buys a box of six ceramic baubles from a nearby department store, whacks one off the table edge gently until it shatters into reasonable-sized pieces, then sets about setting it back together with the kit he’d bought online – paid for express next-day delivery as well, no time to sit and wait around for 3-5 working days, longer in the Christmas build-up.

You’d not mentioned the baubles the next day in the office or how you’d rushed off, just came and sat on his desk with a coffee, had the usual back and forth banter but he can tell you’re a little flat, the light isn’t quite reaching your eyes as it once was and he hates it. You’d been excited for Christmas – even brought in a Christmas mug on the 1st of December – but it’s all been extinguished, now a DSO-logo stamped black mug in your hands.

It takes him the entire box over the next few evenings until he’s confident enough to tackle one of your prized possessions. Each bauble is unique – swirling patterns of pastel colours on all-white ceramic, but he treats the pieces like a puzzle as he slowly divides the piles into category of each bauble – four in total – and gently works out which piece belongs to which. There are bits that aren’t going to be a clean seam but he’s prepared for this in his practice rounds, still a little shake in his hand as he finally puts two and two together.

He likes the meaning behind the practice - embracing imperfections, not trying to hide the cracks or broken bits, but instead highlighting it, making it a feature with bright and beautiful gold. Lord knows he isn’t perfect, far from it, and he will never be the man he was before Raccoon City. A few years ago, when he was at his darkest, he would’ve described himself as beyond repair – too smashed up to ever be whole again.

Slowly but surely, he’s began to piece himself back together, embracing the fact that whilst he’s not quite whole and might never be, held together by his friends, his will and some glue and now your presence in his life giving him a little bit of sparkle.

He shakes his head, leans forward and switches off the made-for-TV Christmas movie.

--

Friday evening is here before he knows it and, frustratingly, an intel mission he’s on runs a little long – gets caught up in traffic. He needs to swing by his apartment to pick up your gift and needs to get changed while he’s at it – the dress code quite clear. He enters the hotel ball room in a shirt, suit jacket and trousers, sans tie, an over an hour and a bit late, carrying the gift bag as carefully as he would a baby or a bomb. The mixer already seems to be in full swing - there’s half a dozen round tables, discarded wrapping paper scattered across the tops of them as well as empty champagne glasses and he realizes he must’ve missed the gift exchange.

“There you are! I thought you were a no-show.” You tease, appearing at his side a little too quick to not have been waiting for him. You’re looking beautiful in your black cocktail dress, the one that hugs all the right places and your hair half up and half down, held in place with a red bow.

“Duty called. Did I miss the exchange?”

“Eh, kinda. It wasn’t a whole big thing. The President’s not coming – double booked himself, so everyone’s just been awkwardly exchanging gifts and downing more and more free drink.”

He tugs at the ribbon hanging down off your shoulder ever so gently.

“Well, you certainly look as pretty as a present. Please tell me you didn’t panic and gift yourself…”

You ignore him, loop your arm through his instead and guide him over to an empty table – there’s a large queue at the open bar and hopefully a few more minutes of privacy before making endless small talk – and encourage him to take a seat. As he does, you crouch besides another chair and fish for something underneath, pulling out a red and gold gift bag, an embarrassed smile as you hold it out to him.

“Merry Christmas, from your Secret Santa.”

He raises an eyebrow but still accepts the bag, placing it on the table. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Why?”

“You’re my Secret Santa?”

“Can you at least hold in the disappointment until after you open it?” You pout.

“No, I mean… I got you. We got each other.”

“What? That’s… weird.” You sit down heavily in the chair, looking a bit bemused. “What’s the statistics on that even happening?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to demand a re-count.” He rolls his eyes and holds out his own gift bag. “Ladies first.”

You smile, brushing your fingers with his as you take it, before placing the gift bag down on the table and see four small cardboard boxes nestled within. You take out the first one and unfold the tabs, carefully, before removing the piece of red tissue paper he’d nestled on top.

What lies below it makes your heart stop.

It’s your grandmother’s baubles, or one of them, now held back in one piece and held together with threads of beautiful gold.

You look at him and then back down at the bauble.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.”

“Leon, I…”

He sees the tears in your eyes as you take out the remaining boxes with a shaking hand, lining them up on the table and revealing each one in turn.

“I hope they aren’t an insult to your grandmother’s memory.” He blurts out after sitting in silence, unsure of what to make of yours. “They were just about to be tossed and so I took them, did some research on repair techniques and, well…”

“Did you do this?” There it is – the smile, the real smile that lights up your eyes.

“What, you think this old dog can’t learn new tricks? Everything’s on the internet these days.” He shrugs off – he won’t tell you the hours he spent, the headaches he got from squinting as he pieced parts together. Hell, he’d do it all again if he had to.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. I… I can’t believe you did this for me. I… I just, I mean…”

He places a hand on your knee, gives you a soft smile.

“There’s a lot I’d do for you, you know, if you’d let me.”

There’s a moment as your eyes meet that you feel perhaps your cheeks have gone as red as the bow on top of your head and quickly try to deflect, nodding your head at his unopened gift bag.

“You should’ve let me go first - this is going to be such a disappointment in comparison.”

Leon gives your knee a squeeze before he peers into this gift bag, digging out a small gift box. He places it down on the table and tugs off the lid to find there’s a beautiful ridged glass nestled in red tissue paper, heavy-bottomed – you know his preference all right - but there’s something within the glass too. A mass of what appears to be red and green yarn, a little loop of black string at the top… He picks it up between two fingers.

“It’s…” He trails off, looking at the colours. “It’s certainly festive.”

“Okay, I can’t knit but I tried and that’s the important thing here, right?”

“No, no, it’s… cute.” He smiles. “And the glass – I love it. Just my style.”

You bite your lip, looking a little flustered and unsure, but he assumes you’re still feeling a little emotional over his present… until you try and yank the yarn from his hands.

“Hey!” He gets to his feet out of instinct of being attacked and clutches whatever it is closely to his chest.

“Look, if you just give me it, I can try some other craft thing. Just I was in a pity party all week and I stayed up all night doing that and it shows.” You get to your feet then, trying to weasel through fingers into his to retrieve it. “I can’t leave you with that, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s mine.”

You don’t give up your attempt to wrestle it back, though Leon’s grip never falters. “You don’t even know what it’s meant to be!”

“Sure I do. It’s…” He retaliates, whipping it quickly above his head and yours – too high for you to snatch out of his hands despite your heels – and squints once more, comparing it against some of the festive décor in the hall.

“Oh.”

“It’s so dumb.” You begin your protest again, now trying to grab it from above your heads. “I just tho-” Leon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you forward firmly against his chest, before he finally drops his other arm and cups your cheek, knitted mistletoe still in his fingers and kisses you firmly on the lips, swallowing down the rest of your sentence. He can’t help but grin as he feels you relax into his embrace, pressing your palm now flat against his chest. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, poking ever so gently to seek permission and-

“About goddamn time, Kennedy!” The shout of an inebriated agent causes the two of you to pull apart and you feel flustered by both the overdue kiss and what feels like the eyes of the entire DSO on the two of you.

Leon takes it all in his stride though, keeps a warm palm right on your lower back as he smiles and nods at whoever the hell it was that had interrupted, before pressing a sweet, solitary kiss to your cheek.

“Now, seeing as I’ve got this mistletoe, how about we go back to my place and try it out a little more, beautiful?”

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

[mpileons]

behind the goal posts | alexia putellas x reader

chapter 1 <

Summary: Everyone knows Alexia Putellas. Star football player and the face of Barcelona. However, what they don’t know is that she is been in a secret relationship for years, and that relationship is slowly slipping out of her hands.

Word Count: 2.8K

—

A/N: i got a bit too carried w/ the angst.. oops. and i didnt proof read this so i apologize for any inevitable mistakes :)

Chapter Two …

Present Day – 

As 12AM hits, I find myself still waiting for Ale to come home from training. I decide to call my bestfriend to prevent my thoughts from further spiralling. “Hey chica, wait what's up?” my best friend's voice blares through my headphones as a frown etches onto her face, sensing that something is off with me. “Did she do something?” I start to shake my head because I know if I speak my voice will betray me and all my anxieties will be laid bare for her to see. It’s not that I don't want her to see, more that I don't want to acknowledge any of this. I’d like to believe that Alexia and I are still in that honeymoon, that she’ll come home early and shower me with kisses while we make dinner,that we will go back to watching films while our limbs intertwined till we didn't know whose body is whose. I know deep down that we have derailed so far away, we are slowly plummeting into an abyss of resentment and I don't know how to save us. “Y/N please talk to me” Kira’s voice brings me back to earth, I see the anxiety increasing tenfold on her face as she watches me intently. “I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper as I fiddle with the strings of my hoodie. 

"It's just... Ale was out late last night, and she's still not home. And she's been so distant lately. It’s like I am living with a ghost,  I can't shake this feeling that something's wrong." I rush out as quickly as humanly possible, as if I say it fast enough my brain won’t think about it and therefore it won’t become real.

“That’s strange, have you brought it up with her?” Kira's voice held a gentle probing, her concern evident. But then again, I couldn't fault her for that. Our nightly chats had become a lifeline, teetering on the edge of panic. It's strange, really. Ale used to be the one to ease these moments, but now, it's her actions that stir them up.

Present Day | Alexia’s Point of View —

As I step into the dimly lit apartment, the sharp remnants of the night at the club are still echoing in my mind. However, the laughter and camaraderie of my teammates felt distant now, replaced by a hollow emptiness.

I moved through our shared apartment with a sense of detachment, a space that was once so familiar now feels like a ghost town. The weight of exhaustion drags at my limbs as I head towards our room. But as I pass by the closed door, I can hear a snippet of a conversation that catches my attention, drawing me to a sudden halt.

"... it's strange how Ale used to calm me down from these attacks and now it is her that is causing them," Y/N's voice, tinged with worry and frustration, drifted through the door, sending a pang of unexpected guilt coursing through my chest.

For a moment, I stood rooted to the spot, Y/N’s words hanging heavy in the air like an accusation. The weight of her evident disappointment bores down on me like a crushing weight, quickly suffocating and stealing every word out of my mouth. How had I become the source of Y/N's pain, when did this happen?

Without another word, I retreated to the living room where the walls feel like they are closing in around me as the echoes of Y/N's words reverberated in my mind.  Hours passed in agonising silence, the tension in the apartment thickening with each passing moment. And then, as if on cue, the dam burst.

Present Day | Y/N’s Point of View —

I took tentative steps to the living room to check if Ale had come home, the faint scent of alcohol hanging in the air further proving that she’s back.  

As I rounded the corner, my gaze fell upon Alexia slumped on the couch with her head bowed and a half-empty bottle of whiskey clenched tightly in her hand. Her usually vibrant eyes were now dull and unfocused, the lines of exhaustion etched into her features.

A sudden surge of anger and frustration takes over my body. I naively thought that maybe today would be different, that today Ale would come to me instead of seeking comfort from a bottle.

But as I stood in front of Ale and truly take in the sight in front of me, a different surge of emotions come. I am quickly overwhelmed with a wave of guilt as I watch the woman I love more than anything crumble beneath the weight of her own self-destructive tendencies. No matter what I try to do or say, nothing can seem to get through the indestructible walls she had built around herself, the walls she once used to let down around me. 

All of a sudden, I couldn't muster up any anger towards the woman who firmly held my heart in her grasp. I could shove aside my own emotions, even if it meant indulging in self-destructive tendencies, just to care for her. 

"Ale," My voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as if my words would fracture her even further. I slowly approached the couch, my heart aching with a pain I couldn't name. "What happened tonight?" I asked while tentatively taking the bottle out of her grasp.

Alexia's head snapped up at the sound of my voice, her eyes glazed and distant as she struggled to focus on me, an effect from her excessive drinking that has become more familiar to me than I’d like. "Nothing," she muttered, her voice slurred with the aftereffects of alcohol. "Just... just another night out with the girls."

My eyes furrow with concern, I try to find any piece of the woman I loved, the woman who would buy me new flowers immediately after the previous flowers died, the woman who would wake up earlier before practice just to spend time with me, the woman who would bring me food to the library while I was drowning in assignments. But all I could see was the shell of that woman. All I could was emptiness and it was killing me. She was killing herself while clutching my heart within her hands, bringing me down with her. 

My voice trembled with disappointment as I settled beside Alexia on the couch, the tension between us crackling like electricity. The atmosphere in the room felt heavy, suffused with the weight of unspoken grievances and broken promises. "You promised, Ale," I began, my tone beginning to edge with unbearable frustration as I decide to confront her broken vows. "You swore you'd try to get better, that you wouldn't let this control you anymore. That you would try for me, for us."

Alexia's eyes flashed with a mix of shame and defiance, her fingers stealing the bottle from my hands and tightening around the bottle in her hand as she clearly tried to brace herself for the impending conflict. The lines etched on her face increased tenfold. "I know," she admitted, her voice strained with the evident weight of her own struggles. "But it's not as simple as just trying, Y/N. You don't understand how hard it is. You just don’t."

My patience waned quickly as I met Alexia's gaze, my own resolve beginning to falter under the weight of our unresolved issues. "I'm trying to understand, Alexia," I defiantly retorted, my voice rising slightly with frustration. "But how can I when you won't let me in? You keep shutting me out, pushing me away every time I try to help."

A spark of anger ignited within Alexia's eyes as she rose to meet my challenge, her own frustrations bubbling to the surface. "Maybe if you actually understood what I'm going through, you'd realise that I'm not doing this to hurt you," she shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I'm doing this because I can't bear to see you disappointed in me again."

The raw emotion in Alexia's words further broke my heart, the sting of guilt mixing with her own simmering anger. "I know, but you promised, Alexia," I murmured, my tone quiet  but sharp with anger, "It just seems like you don't care about keeping your word anymore. You're drowning yourself in alcohol, and you're dragging us down with you."

I can see Alexia's gaze harden, her own frustration boiling over as she shot back once again, Never one to back down. “Don't act like you're perfect, Y/N. You're always on my case, like you have it all figured out. But guess what? You don't. You never have."

I clench my jaw as I fight to keep my temper in check, I know that Alexia isnt in the right state for this discussion, but her words hold some flicker of truth which is why the words spill out despite my best efforts. "I may not understand everything you're going through, but at least I'm trying. What about you, Ale? Are you even trying anymore, or have you just given up once again?"

The accusation struck a nerve, and Alexia's temper flared, her voice rising to match my intensity. "Of course, I'm trying!" she exclaimed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "But it's not enough for you, is it? Nothing I do is ever enough!"

My eyes flash with hurt and indignation while my voice trembles with emotion. "That's not true, Ale," I protest, my heart aching at the sight of the woman I adore unravelling right before my eyes. "I just want you to be happy, but I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I can't do it anymore when it is destroying me further knowing I can’t help you despite my best attempts to."

Tears welled in Alexia's eyes as she struggled to contain her rising emotions, the weight of their argument bearing down on her like a crushing weight. "I don't know how to be happy anymore, Y/N," she admitted, her voice breaking with despair. "I feel like I'm drowning, and I can't find a way out."

The distance between us grew with each passing minute, each second driving a deeper wedge between our fractured hearts. And during the chaos of our bitter exchange, I just had a sinking feeling that my love might not be enough to save us from the impending darkness that I know will consume us completely, sooner or later.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, my voice immediately softened, a tremor of uncertainty lacing my words as I try to grind the words I thought I’d never say out loud, not to Alexia, not even in a million years or in a hundred different universes did I think I’d say this to her.. "Maybe... maybe we need some time apart," I suggest, the weight of the admission heavy on my tongue.

Alexia's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief at the suggestion. "A break?" she echoed, the word heavy with resignation and a hint of desperation.

I nod, my own heart aching at the realisation that our relationship might be hanging by a thread. "Just... for a little while," I murmur, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "To figure things out."

6 Months Ago | Alexia’s Point of View —

As the sun set over the horizon, casting hues of pink and gold across the sky, I led Y/N to a secluded spot in the park since I decided to surprise her with a special outing to a drive-in cinema. I see her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of twinkling fairy lights strung between the trees and a soft glow emanating from a cluster of candles.

With a nervous but determined smile, I take Y/N's hand and lead her to a cozy spot in front of the car. We start to settle onto a blanket spread out in the back of the car, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of birds chirping.

As we cuddle together under the starlit sky, the screen flickers to life with the opening scenes of "La La Land," Y/N's favorite film, I had put that somewhere in the depths of my mind when she told me, knowing it will somehow be important later on.

During an especially poignant moment in the film, I reach into a nearby picnic basket and pull out a carefully crafted scrapbook that took me longer than I’d like to admit. After all I am athlete not an artsy person. But for her, it’s all worth it.

I watch as she curiously flips through the pages, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as she sees photos of our many movie nights together, interspersed with handwritten notes and film strips capturing precious moments we’ve shared over the last few months.

My hands start to lightly tremble while I intertwine Y/N's hand with mine, as I feel her hand fitting perfectly into mine, a warmth spreads through me, comforting the trembles that threaten to give away my nerves. "Y/N," I start, my voice barely above a whisper but laced with the depth of my feelings, "I never imagined that one person could fuel my heart with such love and devotion, I can’t even imagine my life without by my side and I ..."

Y/N's eyes meet mine, shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. Without a word, her gentle nod speaks volumes, affirming the depth of her love and commitment. "Yes, Ale," she murmurs, her voice a soft caress against the night air, "I choose you, now and forever."

Present day | Y/N’s Point of View —

Before I can even take a step forward, a familiar blonde head of hair envelops me, momentarily throwing off my balance. "Geez, Leah, trying to knock me over?" I chuckle, returning the embrace of my lifelong friend. Football was never my thing before Ale, but Leah and I go way back to our days in the primary school astronomy club, and our bond has only grown stronger since then. Proving our friendship to be stronger than any time zone or country.

"How do you manage to shrink every time I see you? Is there something in the water in Barca?" Leah teases as she takes my luggage from my grasp and leads the way to her car. I just shake my head at her usual antics, gazing out at the Heathrow Airport parking lot. London. I haven’t been back home in years, never felt the need to with Ale around, but now that I've lost her, it feels like I've lost my home along the way as well. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, leaving me feeling nauseous. In just a few days, I've lost everything that mattered.

Hours later, after battling the infamous London traffic, we finally arrive at my flat. It's a sad time capsule of my past life. Remnants of old friendships and memories linger in every corner, a stark reminder that while I've changed, the world around me has kept on spinning. That time waits for no one, and as I sink deeper into my thoughts, Leah's concerned voice breaks through the silence. "Are we going to talk about it, or are we gonna keep pretending like nothing's happened?" she asks, her honesty cutting through the tension. I join her on the couch, resting my head on her shoulder with a heavy sigh. "I don’t know," I admit, uncertainty weighing heavily on my mind.

“Cmon, as your favourite bestfriend I think i deserve more honesty than that.” She tries to lightly joke, but I know her words hold some level of honestly. And the words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I find myself at a loss for words. She's always been there for me, through the good times and the bad, but this... this feels different. It's not just a bump in the road; it's a complete upheaval of everything I thought I knew. I know nothing anymore.

"I know," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... it's all so overwhelming, you know? I thought I had everything figured out, but now... now I don't know what to do."

Leah quickly wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer in a comforting embrace. "It's okay not to have all the answers," she reassures me, her voice soft but firm. "Just take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out together. You still have me no matter what. You know that.”

I nod, grateful for her words of wisdom. But even as I try to take comfort in her presence, a nagging feeling of unease lingers at the back of my mind. How do you move forward when everything you once knew has been shattered right in front of you? Where do you even begin?

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