#but I don’t feel like taking it off the wall for accuracy in a tag on a tumblr post so

[greenieart]

More tiny paintings I did in January 💚

#acrylic painting #tiny paintings #painting #traditional #original #idk how to tag these properly #anyway these are all 2x2 except for the monstera piece which is 3x3 #also. the mushrooms are chlorophyllum molybdites also known as the vomiter which is my favorite mushroom #the flower is a johnny jump up which is one of my favorite flowers #variagated monstera deliciosa of course (sp?) #CRENSHINIBON. THE CRYSTAL SHARD. #pomegranate #and what’s meant to be a brown junebug but idk how successful the attempt was. a bug. #OH the pomegranate isn’t quite a 2x2 or a 3x3 she’s somewhere in the middle? I only had one canvas of that size and I’d measure it #but I don’t feel like taking it off the wall for accuracy in a tag on a tumblr post so #eh #also hope y’all enjoy the multiple shots of my living room

[cynettic]

Hey so I just read the Laser Tag AU and maaaan, now I really want to play Splatoon smh aksksjjdjs

Anywayyy my point is: may I request more hcs but with the other boyos (Childe, Albedo, Bennett, Razor, Chongyun, Xingqiu and maybe Aether if you do him too xD)

Laser Tag ( genshin x reader )

Summary - Genshin characters playing laser tag with you their s/o.

Pairings - Reader x Childe/Bennett/Razor/Chongyun/Albedo/Scaramouche

Warnings - Mention of guns and shooting.

A/N - Added in Scaramouche- But I couldn’t think of anything for Xingqiu. I can surprisingly see the majority of the Genshin boys being good at wielding guns, even though they’d probably suck lol

Laser Tag

Childe

Childe is a beast.

Whether it’s in the terrain of his battlefield, or the streets of Liyue playing laser tag, Childe plays to win. He’s always been the competitive type, enjoying the thrill of battle, or in this case, laser tag.

He loves the game.

And of course, you just have to end up on the opposite team as him.

This game is the perfect setup for an enemies to lovers kind of vibe btw. With him shooting at your comrades and eliminating them from left to right, and you doing the same for his team. Very few people stand against him in this game, and his accuracy and sense of battle.

The two of you will spend the entirety of the game playing cat and mouse. Childe chasing after you while you simply escape his sights every time, taking down his teammates while you’re at it.

Childe isn’t as interested in winning, and once you prove to be worthy of a decent laser tag battle, he tries his best to force you to confront him.

Of course you on the other hand take his reckless behaviour to your advantage to turn the game in your favour and strike down his team. You know it’ll piss him off later when you win.

However, it Childe does manage to catch you…

The two of you will fight, that much is obvious. Dodging and attacking him, he will get very into it. Maybe a little too much, but you don’t give in, not until the very end.

Not until he’s on top of you, the two of you toppled over a bunch of hay that cushions your fall when he crashes into you. Not until he’s holding the plastic revolver against your temple, staring straight into your eyes with his signature smirk.

He might sneak a little kiss in there just to throw you off.

But in the end he will make sure he wins, or rather, he eliminates you. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t win the entirety of the game, taking you down was satisfactory enough, and he feels well accomplished and content after.

Would definitely rub it in your face.

If you brush it off as something you didn’t really try in, be prepared to be pinned against the wall and kissed until you admit that you were in fact, doing your best. And yes, he won fair and square.

Bennett

Omg this precious boy-

Bennett will try his hardest, stick by your side and shoot at any approaching target. Considering that the two of you are on the same team, he will promise to protect you.

With one problem.

No matter how well he aims, whether it is going to hit his target or not, the lazer disagrees. Rather, his terrible luck absolutely ruins it and somehow his lazer point ends up somewhere completely else.

“It changed its direction completely!”

Well… you never know, maybe it’s the gun that sends the lazers ray so far off, but considering it’s Bennett, you know it’s no coincidence.

So you end up protecting him.

Dragging him from place to place and shooting down your opponents, the two of you spend your time tripping over random large ass rocks ( with only Bennett’s terrible luck to blame ) and attacking opponents.

You make sure that Bennett is not shot, no matter what. And you give everyone else a terrible glare that basically screams that if they shoot him, they’ll face your wrath.

Nobody shoots Bennett.

By the end of the game, he’ll be grinning ear to ear. And even if he didn’t manage to eliminate anyone, he’ll boast about how his amazing dodging skills pulled him through the game. You’ll agree, lacing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him to the good Hunter to get a good meal.

Just to buy one though, the poor boy can’t cook for his life.

Razor

“Razor… very confused.”

The wolf boy has difficulty with the rules of the game, but the concept of pointing the gun at an opponent and shooting them with a lazer isn’t too hard to grasp.

You find out very quickly that Razor is actually pretty good with aim.

His hands don’t shake for one, and he is so adept to his surroundings that people struggle finding the source of their depleting health. Despite being overall confused at how to play, Razor easily becomes one of the main players taking opponents down.

As someone on his team, he makes sure to keep you by his side the entire time. He understands the elimination part, and he doesn’t want his lupical to get taken out, even if it’s a game.

He can be oddly affectionate at certain times, pushing your face against his chest as he takes out the remaining players in the field you both are in. He will carry you, and take no hesitation when pulling you out of the way, even if it’s a little too rough.

When the game ends, it might take a while to explain to the poor boy that your team won. And that it was a good thing.

Razor will begin to smile when he notices how content you are with it.

Chongyun

This man has the audacity to wield a gun while licking his ‘popsicle.’

Like goddamnit Chongyun, being good at shooting is already a flex, you don’t have to nibble at your popsicle while you’re at it.

You can’t really blame him though, it’s hot outside, and with the sun beaming down on the poor boy's head you know he can’t stand it. Especially with all the adrenaline and yells from opposing teams.

As someone on the same team as him, you take on the job of Chongyun’s personal popsicle restocker, and shooting anyone down once he gets tired. As good as the boy is at shooting, he sucks at keeping himself unknown to the other players.

So you take on the job to make sure they don’t shoot him down.

The two of you are a good team, and if it gets too hot, Chongyun might even let you have one of his popsicles. Of course you don’t have his talent of being able to shoot while having a popsicle in your mouth-

Your team will end up losing though, and even though Chongyun isn’t bothered, he will be slightly worried if you care. The two of you were obviously trying your best, and as long as you both had fun that’s all that matters to him.

But if it really bothers you that much…

He knows you feel comforted by physical contact, so he’ll hold your hand and offer a comforting smile. Tell you that you played well, and that he had fun.

That cheers you up right away.

Kiss him on the cheek please, even though he will flinch at the contact, his cheeks are flushed red and he won’t admit it. But he likes it.

Albedo

Why is it so easy to picture Albedo as a hot sexy stoic mafioso wielding a gun?

Anyways, Albedo is terribly good at wielding a gun. So good at that he only holds the plastic revolver with one hand, never missing a shot as he walks down the streets of Monstadt.

He knows the area well, so good luck trying to sneak up on him. The way his eyes so carelessly sweep the buildings, it hardly looks like he’s trying. Eliminating players with his lasers as he mindlessly strides past the fountain.

Of course, you’re against him.

Albedo isn’t really motivated to play, he’d rather be in his lab experimenting or recording down his discoveries. But he was dragged into this mess, he might as well play his part and support his team.

Albedo won’t hesitate to shoot at you and take you down.

As much as you may be important to you, he plays this game fair and square. He will take you down, or rather, he will try, because you get creative :)

He knows Monstadt well, but he can’t possibly keep his eye on all angles around him. So you’ll aim for his blind spots, throw yourself at him and tackle him to the ground. Simply eliminating him isnt satisfying enough, you need more.

So you turn this into a little game to fluster him.

Tackle him and pin him down, watch him scramble for the gun and then give him a peck on the lips. Watch as his grip loosens, and one of his hands instinctively come to nestle against your hair to pull you closer, and then you pull away.

Watching his idle confusement turn into a light blush on his cheeks is just too good, and how he grows even redder when you start laughing is even better.

Of course his team wins, not that he cares.

The minute the game ends he’s back in his office, conducting experiments. You can go interrupt him though, sneak into his office and press a kiss against his neck. He doesn’t often react or do much to it, but after your linger kiss at the game, he will pull you close and sit you on his lap. Have a proper make out session after you left him hanging with that peck earlier ;)

Scaramouche

This little man is ‘terrifying’.

It’s scary enough that whether you’re against him or on the same team as him, you keep your distance.

“Are you avoiding me Y/n?”

You play on the same team, and even if he’s your boyfriend, you know better than to stay too close when it comes to battle. He shows his cruelty, and you really weren’t looking forward to be put in the middle of that.

‘Unfortunately you didn’t have a choice-‘

Scaramouche will literally drag you, a hand looped around your waist to tug you to his side and take you along with him as he takes down opponents after opponents. He doesn’t ask for your praise, but you still give him it knowing he appreciates it. Mentally.

When he’s tired or bored, he will lean his head on your shoulder, wait there for a bit before jumping back up and shooting a random straggler on the sides. Heavens knows how the boy knows he was there, it’s like he has some sixth sense.

We don’t even want to get into his accuracy and precision, Scaramouche is born a mafioso.

At the end when your team wins, no surprise, give him a hug. Tell him he did well and even if he tries to push away, hold him tight. Even though he could easily pull your arms away if he wanted to, he’ll just pretend to give a little struggle and then give in to your warmth.

#genshin #genshin oneshot #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin childe #genshin Scaramouche #genshin razor #genshin bennett #genshin albedo #childe x reader #Scaramouche x reader #razor x reader #bennett x reader #albedo x reader #genshin chongyun #chongyun x reader #laser tag #cynshealthysfw

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween resurrection

[phis-corner]

I recently read your platonic brucinette post, it was amazing, i couldn't stop laughing. What if she invites herself over to the Manor or something and the boys have no idea who she is (cause I feel like he wouldn't mention her cause she would probably ruin his reputation even more since his kids would probably spread the stories to their own friends) but I feel like maybe Tim already know her since he was in Paris looking for Bruce (when he got "killed" by Darkseid), he would probably see her as a mom or fun aunt that he could vent to

Ask and you shall recieve! again, any grammar mistakes are because I did not bother proofreading. whoops.

Masterlist ◈ Original

Dick Grayson had seen a lot of unexpected things throughout his lifetime, but he really did not expect to come downstairs for a nice bowl of cereal for breakfast and find a woman who looked eerily like the late Martha Wayne sitting at the table and eating his Bat Puffs.

Wait.

“Those are my Bat Puffs!” Dick shrieks, because he has priorities. That’s the last of his cereal, okay? And it’s going to be two days before Alfred goes on his next grocery run and he’s really bad at shopping for food on his own. Sue him.

Not-Or-Maybe-Possibly-If-You-Believe-Conspiracy-Theories-Martha-Wayne simply laughs, and easily dances out of the way of his grab for the bowl, moving out of his reach with an elegance and grace that can only mean she spends part of her day dressed in a different costume. Whether or not she was a good guy still remained to be seen, considering she had somehow broken into the Manor without setting a single alarm off and was currently eating the last of his Bat Puffs. 

A truly despicable act, indeed.

“Grayson?” Damian chooses that exact moment to come down the stairs. “I heard you scream. What’s-” He snarls the moment he catches sight of Not-Martha-Wayne, pulling out a knife from somewhere in the folds of his pajamas and hurling it at her head with impressive speed and accuracy.

Not-Martha-Wayne simply ducks, letting the knife thud into the wall behind her, making Dick wince. Alfred was not going to be happy.

“Identify yourself, woman!” Damian screeches, pulling out another knife. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

Not-Martha-Wayne tilts her head, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Really? I’m not even allowed to eat cereal in my own home now?”

Dick is slowly growing more and more convinced that Not-Martha-Wayne is actually Zombie-Martha-Wayne.

Damian freezes, eyeing her suspiciously. “Your home?”

“Wh’s goin’ on?” Tim slurs, stumbling down the stairs. “Why ‘re you all screamin’?”

Maybe-Zombie-Martha-Wayne brightens when she sees Tim. “Timber! How’s it going?”

Tim rubs his eyes, once, twice, and then his face splits into a grin when he finally registers Maybe-Zombie-Martha-Wayne’s presence. “Marinette! It’s so good to see you!”

And okay, what.

Tim hurries down the stairs (meaning only marginally faster than before, he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet,) and ignores the coffee machine in favor of hugging Possibly-Undead-Martha-Wayne, who laughs and puts down the bowl of Bat Puffs in favor of hugging him back. Dick takes the opportunity to snatch the bowl away from her, mourning the fact that there’s only a bit of milk left at the bottom of the bowl.

“Good to see you too, Tim,” Not-Martha-Wayne, whose name is apparently Marinette (why does that sound familiar?) ruffles Tim’s hair. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Tim,” Dick says, at the same time Damian demands “Drake.”

“How do you know this woman?” They say at the same time (Dick stubbornly ignores that Damian replaced ‘woman’ with ‘harlot’).

“You mean you don’t?” Tim asks, frowning. “She’s-”

“Marinette,” Bruce cuts Tim off, having appeared at the foot of the stairs in his usual dramatic fashion. 

Not-Martha-Wayne-But-Still-Really-Looks-Like-Her-Whose-Name-Is-Apparently-Marinette beams and waves cheerfully at Bruce, who looks done with life. “Hey, little brother! I see you haven’t gotten tired of dressing up as a giant bat to beat people up yet!”

Well, that was a lot to unpack. Dick decided he’d start with the easiest thing.

“Little brother?” He looks from Marinette to Bruce, Bruce to Marinette, noting the resemblance in both of them to Thomas and Martha Wayne. “You mean- she’s your older sister?” Dick shrieks, turning to Bruce. “Why have we never heard about her?”

“Really, Bruce?” Marinette gasps, mockingly placing a hand over her heart. “I’m devastated. How could you, after everything we’ve been through, not even tell your hundred thousand children that I even exist?”

Bruce doesn’t reply, instead letting out one long sigh through his nose. Huh. Sixteen whole seconds. Impressive.

“Just kidding,” Marinette grins once Bruce has finally stopped sighing. “He’s never told you because I travel the world a lot, my job is super dangerous, and because I’d expose all his deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Like his greatest fears?” Damian asks. Cass, who had silently entered the kitchen at some point or another, stood behind him, ready just in case he pulled out another knife.

Marinette tilts her head. “What? No!” Like how he wiped off one of the eyebrows on Sylvia McCartney’s face when he was four-”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Bruce has made a mad dash across the kitchen, evidently aiming to get her to stay quiet. Marinette dances out of his hold with a giggle and continues speaking even as Bruce chases her all around the kitchen.

“-anyway, he declared that ‘she had something on her face’, wiped off one of her drawn-on eyebrows-” She ducks underneath a plate, which Cass deftly catches before it hits the wall. “-and then went ‘There. I got it for you!’”

A shoe flies at her head. Marinette bats it away with one hand. 

Dick tries valiantly to stifle his snickers, but judging by the evil eye Bruce is giving him, it’s not quite working.

“And there was that time we were at that four-star restaurant in Star City and he ate too much and-” Marinette raises an eyebrow as she catches a toaster in her hands. “Really now, Bruce? A toaster? You know it’ll take more than that to stop me. So he ate too much and got a stomach ache, then started holding his torso and very loudly declaring that he was starting his period.”

Dick doesn’t even bother holding in the laughter this time, and neither do any of his siblings. If only Jason was here to see this, but alas, he was at his own apartment and had no clue that this was going on. Neither did Steph, for that matter, and Duke was already out on patrol since he was somehow a morning person. What a travesty.

“And then there was that time when-” Marinette is cut off by another one of Bruce’s long, very drawn-out sighs. 

“Look, Mari, I think they get the point,” He groans (well - as close to groaning as the Batman ever got), pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stop now.”

“Oh, you’re just annoyed that you couldn’t stop me,” Marinette retorts with yet another smile, and Dick is once again struck by how similar she looks to the lady in the portrait that hangs over the fireplace in the largest of the Manor’s three living rooms. “I suppose you’re right, however. Despite the abundance of embarrassing stories, they do run out at some point, and I’d prefer not to use them all up in one go, ya know? I have to be the cool aunt. Kate can keep wine aunt, but I’m the cool one now.”

“I think Miss Katherine might disagree with that,” Alfred says mildly. “However, I do believe you can win the children over if you tell them about the time your father brought Master Bruce to his board meeting.”

The look of utter betrayal Bruce gives Alfred makes them crack up all over again.

--o0o--

“Man, I am so glad you got it all on camera,” Duke grins, placing two bowls of popcorn on the coffee table before flopping back down onto the couch. “This is going to be great.”

Tim waves a hand dismissively. “I just hacked the cameras in the Manor. Bruce’s paranoia backfired this time.”

Steph cheers and immediately makes a grab for the popcorn as Cass hits the play button on the remote, and Dick can’t help but crack a smile at his own face when he sees the last of his cereal being eaten.

“Richard, I find it concerning that your first thought was of your cereal and not the intruder,” Damian observes.

Dick ruffles his hair, drawing out a squawk of protest. “Well, what can I say? I really like Bat Puffs.”

The Wayne siblings settle down for a movie night that is definitely going to be filled with lots of laughter.

permanent tags

@wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fantasyislive @chocolateherringtacofan @junarvion @susiej1118 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladybug-182 @itsmeevie01 @g-arya @souleateralicestein @nightstarblue @i-is-mysterious @moonystars14 @vixen-uchiha @flapdoodle-noodle @labschaos @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @kaithehero @iamablinkmarvelarmy @luveverything12 @technicallyburninggarden 

unspecified

@momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me @laurcad123 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @sassakitty @fusser90

#maribat #my writing #asks #platonic brucinette

[cozyenigma]

Idle Hands

FLOOF TIME (hopefully lol 😅)

Pairing- Raeder/Darkiplier

Word Count- 1139

Request?- Yes!

Summary: You were left to your own devices for once, which usually lead to trouble later. Namely, when you got caught in the act of your latest bout of shenanigans.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010​

(New to doing tag lists and whatnot so let me know if you’d like to be included!)

There was no way around it. You were bored.

Yesterday was your day off and you had intended to spend it right by doing absolutely nothing. You had slept in, gotten cozy on the couch with your favorite show, even chatted with your friends a bit. It was glorious. Your days off were usually unplanned ones; your work schedule in general was hectic. So it came as a shock when you got a rare second day off in a row.

But, shortly into the morning, you needed something to do beyond watching TV. You heaved yourself up with a sigh. Deciding to at least try and be productive, you go to do some laundry as the show droned on in the background.

Unceremoniously chucking dirty clothes into your laundry basket, you paused before a closet. The one Dark had seen fit to make his own. Though the two of you never really talked about it, it seemed like it was a natural change. You hummed, fingers drumming against the side of the basket.

He'd been away on 'business' for the past few days. What kind of business was anyone's guess considering he was about as forthcoming as a brick wall despite your curious prodding. Still, you didn't expect him back for a couple more days at least.

You figured it wouldn't hurt. Plus it might even help the boredom situation. Sitting down the basket, you threw open the closet revealing Dark's clothes inside. Meticulously neat and organized, not a single item was out of place. There wasn't even any empty hangers in there.

You ran your hands over the fabric of one of his suit jackets, matte black and softer than you expected. Maybe you could convince him to try a new color sometime? At the very least a different neutral colour. Carefully, you took it off the hanger. The thing probably wasn't machine wash so you didn't want to mess with it too much.

Slipping it on, you found it didn't fit quite as well on you obviously. The length was off and the fit on the shoulders was weird. That didn't stop the silly grin on your face though.

It was even better once you found a mirror. The look was kind of ridiculous. You hadn't taken off your shirt before hand so it was peaking through, your pants weren't doing the outfit any favors either.

You adjusted the lapels and button it up. The next few minutes were spent trying to get a passable impression of Dark. Every time you make a face into the mirror you ruin it by smiling. You couldn't help it! This was the silliest thing you'd done all week!

Finally you decide to put the jacket back, still a little scared of ruining it somehow. You were walking back, undoing the buttons on the way, when the hairs on the back of neck stand up. Before you can even react, a pair of arms snake around your waist.

Dark chuckled at your startled yelp, chin resting your shoulder. "I see you've been busy, love."

Still trying to calm your racing heart, you grin sheepishly. "Well, you did leave me to my own devices." You glance down at the jacket. "Sorry, I was just going to go put it back."

Dark hummed, not commenting and slipping his hands into the jacket pockets.

"It suits you," he said simply.

You snort. "It really doesn't. It doesn't even fit, Dark."

He presses a kiss to your cheek before letting go and you can finally turn around to see him properly. Giving you a small, tired smile Dark gives you a glance over.

"Don't think I'd ever object to you being in my clothes."

You felt your ears turn red as he pulled you forward by the lapels, giving you another kiss. Pulling away, you smile.

"Just wait till you see my impressions."

Eyebrow raised, he stepped back and crossed his arms. "Oh really?"

You cleared your throat, schooling you expression into something similar to Dark's usual glare. At first you couldn't tell what his reaction was. Maybe something just to the left of exasperated.

"Yes," you said, pitching your voice a bit lower. Was it really a good impression of the man if you didn't get that broody rumble? "I think I'll just be stuck glowering at people like this."

"Really?" He asked, tone deadly flat.

Undeterred, you continued.  "Maybe I'll go give Wilford a piece of my mind. End the day with-" you snorted, "telling some kids to get off my lawn perhaps?"

By the end your already mediocre impression was crumbling. You were tacking on increasingly ridiculous things, only barely managing to keep from losing it completely. Everything cartoonishly out of character. Dark just watched with narrowed eyes as you steadily lost your composure.

You broke off with a laugh, covering your mouth and looking up at him. It wasn't often you tried to get a rise out of him. Most of the time he kept his cool, betraying nothing. Now he just looked on in disbelief.

"Right," he said, slowly, "if you're going for complete accuracy however-"

The squeak of surprise you let out as he snatches you around the waist was one you probably weren't going to live down. Even though you put up a token resistance, it was clear you weren't going anywhere. Dark seemed pleased with himself.  

"Is this really necessary?" You asked.

You could practically feel him laugh from how he was holding you. "Oh of course. I haven't had the pleasure of being home for some time so naturally I'd want to spend it correctly."

"Gotta be accurate," you said. "Dinner then?"

"Naturally."

You glanced back at him. Whatever he was doing while he was gone was taxing, considering how beat he looked. On that note, you didn't feel much like cooking either.

"Take out?

A pause. Then Dark sighed. "I suppose this once."

He gently let you down on the couch before fishing out his phone. The jacket you were still wearing was thoroughly wrinkled now. When you tried to apologize though Dark didn't even know what you meant at first.

Waving a hand, he turned back to his phone. "It's an easy fix, love." He rubbed his eyes and sighed, "The headache isn't unfortunately."

You leaned over, grabbing his phone much to his chagrin. "I'll pick this time."

"Fine. But I'm paying."

"Sure you are," you said with grin, scrolling through the little menu.

The evening was a quiet one. If you hadn't noticed Dark was wiped before it was extremely obvious now. He had propped his chin up on one hand as the two of you talked. You were happy to take the lead, talking about your day, what you had planned for later.

It was a quiet evening but hardly a boring one.

#dark x reader #darkiplier x reader #writersofmark #darkiplier #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing

[captainamericasbeard]

Empathy Ch. 1

Pairing: Bucky x Empath!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None in this first chapter

Summary: Y/N is an empath tasked with helping the Avengers but healing only comes if you want it. 

A/N: I’m incredibly proud and excited to be bringing you this story! If you’d like to be tagged just send an ask and I’d be happy to knock up a list. 

Empathy MASTERLIST ll MASTERLIST 

The sound of your heels clicking on linoleum filled your ears. You smoothed down the front of your skirt and tucked a stray hair behind your ear as you walked briskly down the long hallway. You reached the door to Nick Fury’s office sooner than you would have liked and you took a steadying breath as you raised your hand to knock. Tap tap tap and the door opened immediately. Nick Fury was standing there dressed all in black with his eye patch perfectly in place. You’d seen Fury from afar before, passing through a room, on tv, but you’d never been in close proximity before. He was taller than you expected.

“I’m guessing I shouldn’t shake your hand?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Not unless you want me to know exactly what you’re thinking and feeling.” You reply, a mischievous grin curling your lips.

“Maybe next time,” Fury said inviting you in with a wave of his hand.

“I’m just kidding. I don’t automatically read every person I touch, unless their emotions are running high.” You explain as Fury escorts you to a leather chair across from a small couch.  

“I know a girl who can’t touch anyone. It’s… not a fun way to live,” Fury says as he sits in the chair leaving the couch open for you. You smooth your skirt behind you and sit down crossing your legs.

“I can imagine. When I was a girl my powers were so overwhelming I wasn't able to touch anyone. Years of hard work and practice and I’m a mostly functional member of society. Director Fury, I’ve been with 3P since I was 12. Why are we pretending you don’t already know everything about me.” You drop any naiveté and fix the director with a knowing look. Fury had never taken an interest in your powers before, why now?

“Common courtesy,” Fury said with a shrug.

“Well, thank you. Why don’t we talk about why I’m really here,” you said.

“I’ve got a job for you, if you want it,” Fury offered.  

“I’ve already got a job,” you reply with an arched eyebrow. You had an inkling as to where this was going.

“You do. In my linguists department. Because after being experimented on and tortured you decided to get your PhD in ancient languages and try to contribute some good to society,” Fury said, diving once again into his seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of your life.  

“Yes sir,” you confirmed.

“And as a result of that torture and experimentation you have telempathetic powers and super strength,” Fury said.

“In a nutshell, yes.” Let him think he knows everything, even you didn’t know the true extent of your powers.

Fury leaned back in his seat and fixed you with an inscrutable glare. Penny in the air.

“I have a select group of high functioning people with specific skills I’d like you to work with,” Fury stated. And the penny drops.

“I’m not interested in becoming an Avenger, sir” you said.

“Not becoming one of them, helping them. No field work. I’ve got enough super soldiers.” You smiled at that. It was true, you had no desire to throw yourself into the fray and save the world. But helping, that was something you were good at.

“Helping how?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

“The team gets themselves into some pretty sticky situations and it’s not always easy for them to bounce back, mentally or emotionally. You would be there to… lighten the load, as only you can,” Fury said

“I’m not a therapist,” you said firmly.  

“I’ve got therapists. The team goes regularly. Requirement for being on the payroll. I’m asking you to take it that step further. Help ‘em sleep at night.” You were beginning to catch on.

“I understand. Help their minds rest a bit so things like therapy can be that much more effective,” you said.

“That’s the idea,” Fury said.

“I think I can be of assistance,” you consent. “What about linguistics?”

“What about it? You keep at it. You’re one of our best and I’d hate to lose you,” Fury stated. It was true, you excelled at languages. You worked twice as hard and with higher accuracy than your counterparts. You took a moment to consider Fury’s offer and what it would mean for your life and career. You had reservations but ultimately the thought of using your powers for good won out.

“When do I start,” you ask.  

“You have dinner with the team at 8:00 tonight,” Fury said as he stood up. You stood too and followed him to the door as he held it open for you.  

“8:00. I’ll be there. Thank you Director,” you said.

“No, thank you,” Fury said as you stepped out of his office. You gave him a smile and started down the hallway.

“Oh and Y/n? Maybe you can do something for Barnes,” Fury called after you.

“Sergeant Barnes? What do you mean,” you ask, turning on your heel. “Let’s just say, he’s a troubled man," Fury said with one last glare. With that he shut the door and you were left to ponder what he meant. You started down the hallway and were met by Fury’s assistant who informed you you would be moving into the Avenger’s quarters.

“Go home and pack a bag for a couple of days and we will come by for the rest of your things,” he said.

…

The Avengers occupied the top 4 levels of the main building of the compound. Sprawling common spaces, private rooms, and a gym made up the bulk of the quarters. Tony had a lab and his own private quarters with Pepper. Natasha, Sam, Bucky, and Steve had their own rooms and shared the common areas.

The elevator carried you up and up and up and as you rose your nerves rose too. You clutched your overnight bag in your hand and your knuckles went white. You took a few deep, steadying breaths as the elevator arrived. The doors opened and there stood Steve Rogers, arms crossed and a neutral look on his face. You could feel the apprehension rolling off him but you knew mentioning that would start you off on the wrong foot. You put on your most winning smile and extended your hand. He glanced at it but made no move to shake it so you let it fall. You were used to it.

“So, you’re Y/N,” Steve stated.

“That’s me,” you replied.

“You can leave your bag here. Kitchen’s this way. Don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve led you through a tastefully decorated common room to the kitchen where the rest of the team sat chatting quietly. The conversation, clearly about you, died away with your entrance. The team turned to greet you. For those who smiled it didn’t reach their eyes. You could feel fear, panic, judgement. You knew you had some huge walls to scale.

“Don’t worry guys, I don’t bite,” you said holding up your hands defensively.

“Don’t mind them,” Sam said approaching you with a hand extended, “they’re a little wary around people who can read their thoughts.” You gratefully shook Sam’s hand.

“I’m not reading anyone’s thoughts, certainly not without their permission. Though you guys are going to have to calm down if you don’t want me knowing how much you dislike me,” you added with a light chuckle.

“Not dislike. Distrust.” Natasha clarified.

“No, its a bit of dislike too. And that’s ok. We have to start somewhere,” you countered, keeping a charming smile on your lips.  

“Hungry?” Sam asked, “It's spaghetti night. My speciality,” He said with a toothy grin.

“Famished,” you replied and sat down and the team followed. “Let’s hold off the questions until after we’ve eaten though. Interrogation’s not great for my digestion.” A few laughed at that and you soon settled into a conversation lead mostly by Sam with Steve and Nat chiming in here and there. Bucky remained stoic, eyes down picking at his food. You tried to catch his eye at first to give him a reassuring smile but he was actively avoiding your gaze.

As the meal ended the light hearted conversation faded away. One by one the team leaned back in their chairs and fixed you with interrogative stares. You were careful not to adopt a defensive stance, keeping your body open and your mind clear. You knew Steve would want to take the lead so you turned to him with a smile.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Steve asked abruptly.

“I told you, I’m here to help. No ulterior motive,” you replied simply. Steve and Natasha exchanged a quick glance and that’s when you knew these questions had been rehearsed.

“Are you a spy? You report back to Fury?” Natasha asked.

“Not a spy and I don’t report to anyone. Everything I do stays between us.” You knew you couldn’t lie to Natasha even if you wanted to.

“So what’s your deal,” Sam asks, “Telempathetic? What does that even mean?”

“It means I can read and manipulate emotions. I can make a group of people feel one thing or I can focus on just one person. I can heal emotional damage or cause it. I can tell what you’re feeling and even thinking to an extent.”

“What else you got?” Bucky asked in a gruff voice. This you could see caught the others off guard. Bucky was reading you and he was doing a damn good job.

“My physicality is much like yours and Steve’s,” you answered. Steve’s eyebrow went up at this. You felt like you’d been caught in a lie.  

"How do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Increased strength and agility. Increased healing factor. Longer than average life span. That sort of thing.”

“So you're a super solider?” Bucky stated. He was watching you with arms crossed and brow furrowed. You had your work cut out for you with this one.

“Super without the solider,” you explained.

“Fury doesn’t want you in the field?” Steve questioned.

“No, and I don’t want to be there. I’m not here to be an Avenger. I'm just here to help,” you said.

“Help how?” Natasha asked.

“When a mission is too much, or even life is too much, I can help. I can ease your burdens. It's… hard to explain.”

"Show us. Show us what you’ve got.” Sam challenges.

“I'll need a volunteer from the audience,” you said with a coy smile.  

“You said you could do a group. Do all of us,” you felt fear spike in the group and you didn’t need to ask where it came from.

“Not everyone here is comfortable with what I can do. I’d like a willing volunteer,” you said.  

“I asked so I guess I'll do it. Why not. You’re not gonna mess with my memories or anything, are you?” You catch Bucky visibly squirm in his seat at this question.

“No, no, not at all. Nothing like that. If you feel me going somewhere you don’t want me to simply close that door and I’ll stay out. Can I touch your shoulder?” you ask and Sam nods.

“Do you have to be touching the person?” Steve asks curiously.

“No, but it helps,” you say with a soft smile. You reach out and gently lay a hand on Sam’s shoulder. You feel his tension, and his distrust. Suddenly a giggle erupts from Sam’s lips. He claps his hand over his mouth but more soon follow. Steve and Nat glance at each other and Bucky’s scowl deepens as Sam keeps laughing. He’s roaring now, doubled over with tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve chuckles and shakes his head.

“Alright, alright,” he says. You take your hand off Sam’s shoulder and his laughter slowly abates. He chuckles and wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“That was a trip! I’ve never felt anything like that! How’d you do that?” Sam asked. “That I can’t answer. I don’t know the how behind it.”

“But you were experimented on. I mean, you weren’t born like this.” Bucky asked.

“Come on Buck, she doesn’t have to go into that,” Steve said surprising you.

“No, it’s ok. Yes, I was experimented on. By Hydra. My father, he was a scientist and a genius but his experiments were of the unethical variety. Hydra found him disgraced and gave him a home. They gave him the freedom of human experimentation without consequences. And who better to transform than his own daughter.” A ripple of disgust passed through the group at your revelation. “He thought he was creating a god but I only thought I was a monster. I escaped and sought refuge here at Shield with 3P. I put myself through school, college, all under Shield’s protection.”

“3P?” Sam asked.

“Shield’s Powered Protection Program. They take in people with abilities who for one reason or another aren’t safe out in the world,” Natasha answered for you and you nodded.

“Alright, that’s enough for one day. Let’s let Y/N get settled.” Steve said ending the interview. The team seemed finally satisfied. They didn’t trust you yet but they weren’t going to throw you out of the compound. Steve rose and you followed him to the elevator to pick up your bag and on to a hallway lined with doors. Yours was the second on the right.

“Bucky’s on your right and I’m across the hall,” Steve said waving his hand.

“Thanks Steve.”  

“Is that all you have,” he asked pointing to your small bag.

“For now. Logistics is bringing over the rest of my things in the next few days. I just live on campus,” Steve’s face softened a bit at this.

“You know for most of us, this is the only family we’ve got. We’re just protecting what’s most valuable to us,” he explained apologetically.

“I understand. And I’m not offended. I’m here if any of you need me,” you replied.  

“Well, don’t hold your breath on that. I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said with a small smile and closed your door.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #empath #empath!reader #bucky x empath!reader #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #Steve Rogers #nick fury #fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

[mrsalwayswrite]

Filthy Tease (Eugene Roe x f!reader)

I meant for this to be a spicy Roe piece but it kinda of took a different route than anticipated... oops? Anyway, i wanna dedicate this to @saritanotserena for giving me the idea but also cuz she is amazing! (sorry if this is awful, i still think i’m terrible at smut) also, not super edited cuz we die like men, alright?

Warning: sexual content- teasing & fingering & my poor attempts at dirty talk

Words:3700

Tag list: @happyveday @saritanotserena @sydney-m @evelynshelby

 There were many things most people were not aware of in regards to Easy Company's Eugene Roe. For example, he was terrified of bees. But instead of running away screaming, he would freeze and not move, barely breathing until he felt safe enough to move. Also, the man was obsessed with strawberries. He would pick them any day over chocolate or any other kind of dessert. When alone, he enjoyed quietly quoting poetry. He never did it in front of the men, for fear they would mock him. The biggest secret that would surprise people though?

 Eugene Roe was a filthy tease whose lips dripped sin and hands brought you to heaven with their touch. 

 And you were well acquainted with this side of him. 

 In Albourne, the replacements had begun calling you 'mama bear' shortly after you punched a Sergeant from a different company, who was picking on one of Easy's replacements. You also had the habit of checking up on them and trying to teach them extra things that training left out. You did not mind the nickname. Honestly, you thought it was sweet how all the boys took to you so. Since most of the Toccoa guys did not want anything to do with the replacements, you stepped up. 

 Unfortunately, all this extra attention from the replacements seemed to spark unnecessary jealousy from Roe. In the quiet moments you two managed to sneak away, you always tried to remind and show him how he was the only man who caught your eye. You would shower him with words of affection, hold him close and kiss him until he forgot his worries. You both hated that you had to keep your relationship a secret. You tried to remind him that this was only temporary. One day you could kiss and hold hands in public. One day you could stand before him in a white dress. One day you would make others jealous with the overwhelming love you had for each other. 

 But that was not today. Or in any sense of the foreseeable future. So you kept your relationship secret and tried to keep your affections on a slow simmer as to not alert the rest of the company. 

 After you started gaining more attention from the replacements, after you started spending more time with them…. Roe changed his tactics in reminding you of who always stole your breath and made you feel like a goddess on earth. 

 And that was how you learned he was a filthy tease. 

 It started off with simple things. He would walk past you and let his hand caress your ass for a fleeting moment before moving on to avoid drawing notice to the pair of you. Or if you sat next to one another to eat, he would place his hand on your knee or thigh underneath the table, giving you an occasional squeeze. If your hair got in your face, he would tenderly tuck it behind your ear or adjust your cap if your hands were full. It was sweet how tactical he was. Always seeking for a way to subtly touch you. 

 Then one day, you were walking with a couple of replacements back from the firing range, having been helping them with their accuracy. You saw Roe approaching, hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on you. He commented how he needed your advice for something and so you innocently followed him towards the small aid station set up in Albourne, having waved goodbye to the replacements. 

 As you passed a huge stack of empty boxes next to a brick building, he pushed you off the road and behind the boxes. You slammed against the brick wall, shock making you unable to cry out or demand about his actions. He had never been rough with you before. Concern and anger warned in you, unsure if something was wrong with him or he was being an asshole. When you leaned back, ready to demand what was going on, your words were cut off by his mouth covering yours and his tongue slipping between your lips. His body pressed against you, pinning you between him and the brick wall behind you. His mouth and touch dominated you, bringing you to the brink and turning you into a puddle of desire. Just as a whine left your throat, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most, he pulled back. Through the haze of lust, you could see his lips swollen, eyes dilated, and chest rising and falling rapidly, matching your own. 

 "What…?" You stumbled out, your mind and body quaking with need. 

 "That's so ya don't forget." Even his voice was affected, more husky than normal. God, it sounded delicious and you wanted to taste it from the source again. 

 "Forget… forget what?"

 "Who makes ya feel good. Who can please ya… and who always wants ya." He stepped back, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. "See ya later, chéri." Then he walked away, back onto the road, hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened. As if he had not left you aching in need and obscenely wet. 

 You stayed there against the brick wall for longer than you would ever care to admit. Your heart hammered in your chest, the ache in your belly at an almost painful level, your breathing heavy in anticipation for what you thought was to come. But now you stood there… alone… and horny. 

 You thought maybe this was just a one-time thing. He had never done anything like this before. 

 Oh, how wrong you were. 

 A couple days later you sat in the back of a lecture room, Nixon at the front talking about something very important. But you could not hear a word he was saying. Oh no, because Eugene Roe was sitting next to you, whispering in your ear about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you in quite explicit terms. Half the stuff he whispered, you wondered where he even got the ideas. Soon enough, his words seeped into your mind as he painted such lewd images of the two of you. You had to press your thighs tightly together to deal with the growing ache. Something you were positive he noticed and delighted in. At one point, he even drew his finger slowly up from your knee to your hip as he whispered about sneaking into Sink's office and letting him fuck you over the man's desk. Once the lecture was over, Roe just gave you a wink and easily got up to walk away with the others heading out. You had to sit there for several minutes, taking long, deep breaths to try and will away the flush over your skin and suppress the pooling desire in your belly. 

 You could not decide if you loved or hated this new side of Roe. 

 Another time he asked for your help, that he might practice a new technique he read about in one of his medical books. You laid down on one of the beds in the aid station. The quiet chatting of a couple of the other medics behind the half-wall curtain filled the otherwise silent air from the other side of the station. Roe snuck a quick kiss to your lips making you giggle quietly and the two of you easily fell into a light-hearted conversation about a party being set up for the enlisted. Though as you two kept talking and he practiced wrapping and unwrapping various parts of your body, his hands began to…. wander. His fingers skimmed up your thighs, moving teasingly close to your groin then darting away. 

 At first you thought it was an accident and paid no mind, but after a couple times, you realized he was doing it on purpose. When you called him out on it, he pretended to have no idea what you were talking about. Then he told you he needed to practice working on a chest wound. Next thing you knew, he had the top several buttons of your army-issued jacket open, and he was laying a bandage on your exposed skin. His hands roamed across your chest, brushing your breasts with firm strokes. At one point he murmured something about giving you morphine and pretended to jab a syringe into your thigh; but as his hand moved back up, it grazed over your sex, leaving a fiery trail up your torso and back to your chest in its wake.  

 "Gene…" you moaned, unable to take it anymore, wriggling underneath his touch seeking friction. 

 He hushed you, wicked eyes glancing towards where the others were in the aid station. "Ya gotta keep quiet, pretty lady. Can ya do that for me?"

 You nodded but it was only half-hearted, your mind already drawing in the euphoric hunger he induced in you. His hands worked you- skimming, fondling, cupping and teasing- in all the ways that soon left you a quivering mess, biting down on your hand to keep the lascivious moans at bay. 

 The whole time he complimented and whispered to you, saying things that only seemed to heighten the experience. "Doin' so good, mon chéri, look at ya. Beautiful." Or "gotta keep quiet, pretty lady." Or "just imagine when I do this to ya, but with my tongue… I know ya taste so damn good. How's that feel, darlin'?"

 Finally, you were toeing the edge, body desperate to fall off that cliff. Your body vibrated with maddening want. "Gene, please…." You begged without shame; the desire, the need too great for you to care. 

 "Shhh...can't let 'em see ya like this." He cooed, one hand cupping your cheek while the other fondled your breast. "This is for me only, yeah? Say it, chéri."

 "Just you… just you, Gene."

 "Mmm… good girl." Then he finally slipped his skilled hand into your pants and pushed you off the edge. Your body drowned in bliss, mind hazy with pleasure. 

 This went on for weeks. Any opportunity he could pull you into a dark corner, push you against a wall, touch you, or drive you wild… he took full advantage of. 

 To everyone else, he still remained the quiet, slightly reclusive medic with a heart of gold and healing hands. 

 But to you… he was a fallen angel with the sole purpose to tempt you with that delightful Cajun accent and take control of you with those sinful lips and magical hands. 

 ***

 The atmosphere in the pub was jovial. Glenn Miller played in the background from the radio. The many voices of the paratroopers filled the pub, overshadowing the famous artist. The place reeked of beer, cigarette smoke and testosterone.  

 Buck, Luz, Toye and Heffron played darts in the corner. A few of the other Toccoa men heckled them and laughed at their own jokes, ignoring the replacements scattered about. The divide between Toccoa men and replacements felt like a terrible chasm. You tried to bridge it though. Floating between both parties, you laughed and cracked jokes with everyone while sipping on your beer. 

 This was the first time you had worn your WAAC uniform in months, reviving fond memories at its feel and look. You had started in the WAAC but then threw a series of unexpected encounters and circumstances, you eventually found yourself at Camp Toccoa training to be a paratrooper. Now, it felt odd to be wearing a skirt, stockings and kitten heels. You had become so used to your dirty ODs. Tonight though, you donned your skirt and heels, even going so far to put on some red lipstick. Who knew when the next chance you would have to dress up would be?

 "Come on, just one dance." Simmons was begging from the seat beside you, his boyish charm on full display, enhanced by the dimples in his cheeks. 

 You laughed, more amused than annoyed by his persistence. "No, if I dance with you then everyone else will expect a dance too."

 "Give it up, Peter." Burkle chuckled. "Mama bear ain't going out there."

 You pointed a finger at the dark-haired replacement across the table. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Frank."

 "Ya hear 'bout the man who got caught joy-ridin' the other day?" Ralph Nestor changed the topic thankfully, leaning forward against the table, ready to spread the latest gossip. 

 Taking another sip of your beer, you listened but scanned the crowd around you. It was about time for you to move on to the next group. 

 As if sensing a pair of eyes burning into you, you swiveled your head trying to locate the gaze. It did not take long for you to meet the eyes of Eugene Roe. He sat with Spina and a few others at a table on the other side of the bar. He subtly tapped the empty spot next to him after he caught your eye. A warmth filled you. It was stupid since you knew he loved you but even here amongst a crowd, he wanted you by his side. 

 "Well, I'm off, fellas. Don't get too drunk tonight please… and if you do, make sure to keep all your clothes on. I'm looking at you, Private Burkle." You teased, watching the young man's face redden at the reminder, while the others laughed. Standing up, you brushed your skirt down, still unused to the feeling after so long. 

 "Yes, mama bear." A couple of them chorused. 

 You smiled. As you reached forward to grab your half-full beer glass, a hand slipped into yours and spun you around into a solid chest. "What?"

 Simmons held your hand as he placed his other on your waist. "Come on, one dance. I'll even keep my hands to myself."

 "Your hands wander at all, there's at least thirty men here who will rip your hands off for me if I ask."

 "Oh believe me, I know." He squeezed your hand, a cheeky smile on his face. "Please?"

 "Simmons, give it up!" Nestor said. "I see your platoon Sergeant looking over here."

 That got Simmons to freeze, glancing over his shoulder to see Guarnere with eyes narrowed at the two of you. 

 You laughed, pushing away from the replacement. "Better not piss your platoon Sergeant off. I'll be back for my glass." Swiftly, you moved in the direction of the bathroom, sending a wink Guarnere's way and receiving one in return. 

 The women's bathroom was small and cramped with two stalls, barely room to move, and a small counter with a sink. Either women did not frequent this pub much or this was awkwardly small to discourage women from lounging and socializing in here away from men. In your mind, it could go either way honestly. 

 After you finished your business, you stood at the sink washing your hands. The cool water soothed your skin after the heat in the pub. Looking up in the mirror, you saw your lipstick had faded and was slightly smudged. Most likely from the beer glass. Carefully, you tried to fix it using the tip of your finger. It seemed absurd, with everything you had been through- the training and combat you had seen- for you to be standing here worried about your smudged lipstick. Perhaps it would not have felt so odd if you stayed in the WAAC instead of joining the paratroopers. 

 Behind you, the bathroom door opened which surprised you. You thought you had been the only woman at the pub tonight. Maybe a few local women showed up? You looked up into the mirror, prepared to greet the woman. After the person stepped through, your jaw dropped and eyes widened. For it was not a local woman in a pretty dress that stepped in.  

 It was Eugene Roe. 

 "What are you doing in here, Gene?" You looked at him through the mirror. "Is the men's bathroom full?"

 Instead of verbally responding, you watched him latch the simple lock over the door. Your movements stilled as you realized what he just did. 

 "Gene?"

 In a single stride, he came up behind you, putting his arms out on either side of you, caging you between the sink and his body. 

 "Darlin'," he crooned in your ear as his lips left a trail of sweet heat along your neck. "Ya look too damn sexy out there. I see ya legs in those heels and skirt and all I can think about is how good they feel wrapped around me as I pound into ya."

 Your skin felt feverish as the heat radiated off his body. Even through all the layers between you two, your body soaked it in like the parched ground after a thunderstorm. With the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin and his filthy words, your womb clenched from that alone. 

 "Then I see that boy with his hands on ya… shit, it took everythin' for me to not rip him off ya."

 "He didn't mean anything, Gene. I promise."

 "Don't matter. I hate it." His hands gripped the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up and bunching it around your hips. He began laying open-mouth kisses along your neck, the whole time his eyes holding yours, as you watched him in the mirror. "I need to 'ear ya sing, pretty lady, I need to 'ear ya gorgeous sounds."

 "Gene…" you moaned out, your eyelids fluttering. That delicious warmth, that only he could fuel, began growing in your belly. "We can't right here." 

 "Shall we find out?"

 Without preamble, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, the other still bunching the fabric up around you and out of the way. You hissed slightly as he touched your bare core, unable to completely hide the smirk on your face as he gave a slight groan. 

 "Mon chéri, where ya skivvies at? Ya been out there this whole time with no underwear on?" 

 "I wanted to surprise you… I thought you might try something."

 "Fuck!" He bit your earlobe and ground his hardening cock against your ass. "Ya tryin' to tease me? Mmm?"

 Before you could retort something smart back at him, you gasped as he slipped a finger into you, finding you already wet for him. 

 "Look at ya, sweetheart, so fuckin' beautiful right now." He murmured, eyes not having left yours in the mirror this whole time, pining you even more so than his body still caging you. 

 With one hand, you grabbed the sink to anchor yourself, your legs turning into jelly beneath you from the onslaught of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Gene, please." You begged. 

 Eyes boring into yours, he pulled his finger out of you, drawing a whiny whimper from your lips. With a salacious smirk, he opened his mouth and placed his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around them then pulled them slowly out. 

 "Holy fuck…"

 Still smirking, he reached down and slipped both fingers into you. They plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds lewdly echoed in the small bathroom. Roe continued to grind against you from behind, timing it to match with the thrusts of his fingers. You wanted to close your eyes, to sink into the heat bubbling in you. But you were unable to for Roe watched you with a heated, heavy gaze in the mirror. Your gazes locked as he brought you closer and closer to your climax, moans and sighs slipping from your lips. 

 "Good girl, mon chérie, so beautiful. Look at ya."

 He continued to whisper in your ear in between leaving open-mouth kisses and bites on your neck and jaw. 

 "Ya close, sweetheart? I can feel it, so close."

 "Oh God, please, Gene…. Don't stop. Please."

 With a dark chuckle, he gave one last flick to your clit and pushed you over the edge. As you opened your mouth, he slammed his mouth over yours, greedily swallowing your cry of bliss. You floated on waves of ecstasy; your eyes closed to soak in the sensations. Eventually you opened your eyes, even if the movement felt sluggish and your body limp. 

 "There's those gorgeous eyes." Roe nuzzle your temple. "Ya back with me?"

 "Mmm… I think so."

 He chuckled. "Think ya can stand?"

 That was when you noticed he was practically holding you up between an arm now wrapped around your waist and you still pinned between him and the sink. 

 "Sorry." You mumbled, standing up on shaky legs. When you noticed his cocky smirk, you languidly swatted at him. "Shut up." Slowly you turned around to look at him. It did not escape your notice his… um… large problem he was sporting in his trousers. 

 "You know… the couple I am billeted with, they left this afternoon for a weekend in London visiting family."

 "Oh? Well, that is interestin' news."

 "Uh huh. What's the likelihood we can sneak out of here unnoticed?"

 He leaned down to press his lips against yours, drawing a soft sigh from you at the sweetness in the kiss. "Very likely… Guess we'll find out though."

 "And what's the likelihood we'll actually make it to the house before you try to get under my skirt again?"

 "Less likely."

 You laughed, pressing a hand to his chest to push him back. Running a hand over your skirt, you tried to smooth it out as much as possible and hide any evidence of your tryst. 

 "Ready?"

 "Always."

 The two of you somehow managed to sneak out of the bathroom and out of the pub without drawing notice to yourselves. As you stepped out into the night, walking quickly down the street, you both were giggling like teenagers having snuck out of your parents' homes. He snagged your hand and pulled you along, almost jogging down the silent road in Albourne. 

 Before you even made it halfway to your billeted house, Roe pulled you into a dark corner, just off the road. You laughed before his mouth covered yours, silencing you and turning your laughter into moans. 

 You did not mind too much. 

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #doc roe #doc roe x reader #mzwrites

[azucanela]

HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats

A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf 

When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential. 

Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.

At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.

Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.

Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.

She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation. 

One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.

The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.

Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.

Sometimes she wished it was more than that though. 

It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.

Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.” 

Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.

“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised. 

Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk. 

“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned. 

She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”

Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-” 

“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed 

His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him. 

She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain. 

If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.” 

Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.

Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from. 

Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?

“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”

He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea. 

She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.

They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”

He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup. 

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.” 

She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.

And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat. 

Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.

“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.

She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.

“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,

“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go. 

She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence. 

Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.

Of course it had been thugs.

One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”

Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.

He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.” 

The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”

The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him. 

Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.

One of the men was missing. 

Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building. 

The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.” 

“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.

“Zuko-”

“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.

“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out. 

Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.

“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?” 

In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner. 

“Protecting the only home I have left.” 

Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person. 

You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.

a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko #zuko atla #avatar the last airbender #atla #lok #legend of korra #prince zuko #prince zuko atla #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #iroh makes an appearance #zuko atla x reader

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Come Back | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey Lovelies! I decided to switch it up and try something a little more angsty! Lemme know what you think (and if I should do a part two?) It's a little short, I started it before receiving all the requests that y'all have been sending in! I was in a little bit of a writers block and a slump and wrote this while listening to/crying to "My Immortal" by Evanessence. Anyways, enjoy my loves! Keep sending in your ideas! I'm starting on them presently! <3

Description: Elijah dies and the reader is falling apart in the shower, Kol and Klaus rescue her. Really just a short little blurb.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Kol and Klaus, Mentions of Elijah

Warnings: The reader in this is grieving and trying to feel something in some self destructive ways. Not self harm but not nice either. Mentions of loss and grieving.

Word count: 1764

Tags: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Part Two

(Pics aren't mine but the mood board is :) )

The water pours over your head with a fury. How it’s still hot you don’t know. Hell, you don’t care. You can’t feel it anyway, every inch of you skin having gone numb an hour ago. Was it an hour? Your fingers are pruned but it only feels like it’s been seconds. It doesn’t even matter anymore. You turn the dial further to the left, not flinching when the scalding water hits your face. You only hope it burns away every last trace of him.

When you close your eyes you can feel strong hands slip around your waist. They draw across your skin, tracing every dip and curve of your hips. Thumbs massage into your skin, delicately kneading your sensitive flesh. You sag into the touch for a second, allowing yourself a moment to memorize the feeling. Your heart aches dangerously, threatening to split apart in your chest.

You slam your hand against the wall, your wrist jarring where it meets the tiles, “let me go!”

The sound tears itself from your body like a second entity, the scream perhaps a banshee living in the cavity where your heart should be rather than your own ruptured soul fighting to be released. Maybe it’s the same thing, though. Water rushes in your ears, mingling with the crushing bang of your pulse. You can feel it throb in every vein in your body, singing the same song of agony over and over again.

You scrub your hips furiously with a loofa, avoiding the bottle of pine soap on the rack at all costs. You can’t feel the scraping anymore. You lost all the feeling in your body an hour ago. Or five hours ago. Or five minutes ago. You still can’t remember. You continue to scrub at your hips. The shower continues to steam. If your eyes weren't open you would wonder if you even had any skin at all left. But they are open, and unfortunately the skin is still there.

Lips meet your shoulder blade, laying soft kisses down your spine. Now the hands reach lower, slipping down your thighs with feather light strokes. Your head finds the wall once more, supporting you when your knees buckle beneath you. The lips find the side of your neck, nipping with soft loving bites. It feels like acid against your skin. You peel your eyes open again, the taste of salt filling your mouth like sand, gritty and sharp against your tongue.

“Leave me alone,” you choke on your words, the scream mingling with tangy bile, “please!”

The sound that rips itself from you is in no way human but it doesn’t matter, you can barely hear it. Water pours into your mouth, rinsing the vomit back down your throat. Your throat feels like it's blistering. Like someone is reaching down and snipping each vocal cord one by one. You can feel the screams as they fight their way out of your body, each one a knife being shoved in your ear and down your lungs. You still can’t hear them.

“If you’re not going to come back then get out!”

Your body convulses with each word. You turn the dial again, forcing the water as hot as it can go. Maybe it can burn your skin off. At least that way it'll take the memories with it. You sink to your knees, pulling them into your chest. All you can feel are the gentle hands on your back, rubbing up and down. It lulls you, like a tiger waiting to strike, your body becoming limp before squeezing in agony.

You rake your hands down your arms violently, clawing the feeling of his touch off of your body. You’re angry at him. You don’t want to be and that makes you even more fucking angry. It wasn’t his fault what happened. He didn't want to leave. You have to keep repeating it to yourself. Every minute of every hour of every day. He didn’t want to leave you.

You curl into yourself tighter, threading your hands through your hair and pulling until you feel something, “you promised. You promised me! I need you!”

You slam your hands against the floor of the shower, over and over again. You can feel the crack but you keep going. You can’t feel nearly as much as you want to. As you need to. You need it to hurt more. Your stomach heaves again and you can smell the acid more than you can taste it. Fingers rake softly through your hair.

“Come back, Eli. Please! I’ll do anything.”

Hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a strong chest. You choke on the sobs as they come, not fighting it anymore. Not physically, at least.

“This is cruel, Elijah!”

“Darling it’s me,” Kol’s voice is strained and tired, “It’s Kol. I’ve got you.”

You can feel more of him when he speaks. Not just the traces of touch but all of him. Every part of him is wrapped around you, holding you on his lap. His arms cage you in tight. You’re clinging to his arms, your nails digging in hard. Everywhere that your skin meets his you can feel yourself shaking. The water pouring over you is now ice cold. How long have you been here?

“Kol,” your voice cracks sharply, ripping a pain that you cling to down your throat, “I- when did you come in?”

Your senses flood back to you slowly, like molasses, creeping over you with sticky disdain. The bathroom lights sting your eyes. Your hands feel broken, if not close to it. Your throat to your eardrums feel raw. It all hits you at once, in full force, like a punch to the chest. You cough hard when the wind is knocked from your lungs.

Kol’s hand smooths up and down your back carefully but he’s not the one who speaks, “we’ve been here the whole time, love. We couldn't leave you.”

Klaus isn’t in the shower with you and Kol but he’s as close as he can be, kneeling on the floor next to the base. His eyes are red, dark circles laced below them. Your heart cracks more at the look on his face. You shiver as the water continues to pour over you, mixing with the tears pouring down your face. You can feel each one as they trace over your skin and sink down the drain.

“Let’s get you out of here, darling,” Kol scoops you closer to his chest while Klaus turns the shower off.

The silence left in the wake of the water is overwhelming. It’s too quiet. You can hear all the space not being taken up. There are no footsteps anywhere else in the house. No doors opening and closing, no muffled voices, no noise whatsoever. There are only three people in a space that was supposed to always have four and it fucking hurts. It feels like your soul is trying to fill every space he isn't in by tearing itself apart. The problem is there isn’t enough of you to do that. He took his part of your soul with him.

Kol passes you to Klaus who wraps you in a towel that still smells too much like pine for your liking. It wraps around you completely, clinging to your raw skin and melding into your bones. Your chest screams with every breath of Elijah that you take. You just want it to stop. You want it all to stop. You can’t breathe but you can’t stop at the same time. Every part of your body screams in agony.

“I- I can’t,” you cling to Klaus with everything you have, digging into his shoulders and drawing blood, “it won’t stop. Why won’t it stop? I- I can’t do this! It hurts Klaus!”

He wraps his arms around you as tight as he can, pressing his forehead against yours. He rocks you gently back and forth. Warm droplets hit your burning skin, mixing with your own. You lose track of which tears are yours and which are his.

“I know love, I know. Us too, we can feel it all,” he lays his lips against your forehead, pulling more strangled sobs from your chest, “everything you feel, we feel it too. I wish I could take it away, my love. I would do anything to make it stop for you. We’re doing everything we can to bring him back to us. You have to trust us.”

Kol’s hands find their way back to your back when he steps out of the shower, his lips soft on your shoulder.

“You need to sleep, darling. Elijah would want you to rest.”

The thought of sleeping makes you nauseous. Everytime you close your eyes all you see is him. It’s almost unbearable. Almost. Part of you clings to him while you still can. Holding tight to his memory before his face begins to warp and his voice fades. It already is starting to fade, sounding a little different each night. It's agonizing, like losing him twice.

Klaus squeezes you tighter, nuzzling his face against your head. Kol rubs his hands down your back, soothing your burning skin. Together they calm you enough to slow your sobs. They can’t make the tears stop completely but they manage to stop the panic attack you've been having for the past few hours. You can feel the spots Elijah should be taking up with painful accuracy. You have to push yourself to focus on the two Mikaelson’s you have.

“I can’t,” even as you say it you can feel yourself fading out, as if the mere mention of sleep reminds your bones of how exhausted they were, “I can’t see Eli. I can’t keep losing him every night.”

“We’ll get him back, darling. We will not stop until we get him back, but you have to rest for us,” Kol’s voice is rough but determined.

Your chest aches, each beat of your heart a reminder that his is still. For days all you’ve been doing is thinking about Elijah. Every agonizing moment spent thinking of ways to bring him back. You know it can be done. Scratch that, it has to be done. If he doesn’t come back you don’t know what will happen to you. You have to trust them.

Your words are too quiet, “do you promise Eli will come back?”

“I promise.”

Both of your Mikaelson's speak together but you swear you hear the third, whispering alongside them. For just a moment you feel almost whole again.

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #Kol Mikaelson Imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #TVD #the vampire diaries #the originals #to #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #reader insert

[elena-reina]

First Love - Harry Potter x Reader

Request: Hiya! I love your writing & just spent the last few hours binge-reading your Draco imagines. Could you write a Harry Potter imagine with a post-war Harry who becomes a DADA Professor & the reader is the new Potions Professor. The backstory could be the reader tagged along with Harry somewhere dangerous with him. They were dating but he broke up with her to keep her safe in later years. They haven't spoken since he broke up with her but haven't moved on. Thank you so much! - Anon

Warnings: none

Part 2

"I think I want to stay back," said a student named Zamira in your Potions class, "I do miss my parents back home, but I really want to spend a Christmas here with you guys."

“That would be perfect! We could visit Hogsmeade and have sleepovers in each others room,” her friend sighed happily.

You looked over at Zamira and gave a small smile. Walking by her table with your hands behind your back, she noticed your presence and shyly went back to working on her potion.

“Well I think it would be best if you were to quickly speak to Professor McGonagall if you’d like to stay here for Christmas, sweetie.”

“You don’t think it’s too late?” she asked, lifting her gaze.

Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays so she could have a headcount. There was still a few days left before the students left for Christmas.

“No, of course not. Class is about to be over in a few minutes. Put your potion on the shelf and you can get a headstart to the Grand Hall.”

Her eyes lit up and she stood up eagerly.

“Thank you, Professor Y/L/N! You’re the best,” she smiled, and rushed to do as you said.

After class, you slowly made your way to the Grand Hall. You stood at the table with the other Professors as Professor McGonagall gave her usual speech to the students about the holidays. You conversed in light conversation with the others, until you stopped mid sentence.

There stood a person you don’t recall seeing before. You no longer could focus on the person talking to you. Harry Potter locked eyes with yours and softened. A wave of emotions hit you all at once.

Harry's feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the mist line of black mountains beyond the village and the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts, and light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks. He remembered with piercing accuracy, how he had landed here nearly a year before, you comfortingly held onto his arm keeping your hood over your head as you and Harry walked together.

The air was rent by a scream that sounded like Voldemort's when he had realized the cup had been stolen: It tore at every nerve in Harry's body, and he knew that your guys’ appearance had caused it.

“Put up your hood,” you instructed lowly, avoiding contact with anyone around. He bowed his head, putting on his hood.

The air through which you needed to move, seemed to have become solid as the harsh winds slapped you everywhere it could. You could not Disapparate; the Death Eaters at the moment had casted their charms well. 

The cold was biting deeper and deeper into you, making you snuggle closer to Harry. He protectively held you in his chest, giving your temple a light, reassuring kiss. He knew you were nervous. You didn’t want anything to happen to him, but you would rather be there fighting alongside him instead of waiting back at Hogwarts to see if he would return home or not. 

The two of you retreated down the side street, groping your way along the wall trying not to make a sound. Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. 

Could they sense fear in the vicinity? 

Absolutely. They seemed to be coming quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths you detested, tasting despair in the air, closing in. You shakily reached for your wand, but Harry beat you to it. 

He raised his wand: He could not, would not suffer the Dementor's Kiss, whatever happened afterward. It was of you that he thought as he whispered "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver stag burst from his wand and charged: The Dementors scattered and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight

"It's him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!"

The Dementors have retreated, the stars were popping out again and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder.

“Harry, we have to go!” you whisper-yelled.

But before Harry in his panic could decide what to do, there was a grinding of bolts nearby, a door opened on the left-side of the narrow street, and a rough voice said: "Potter, Y/L/N, in here, quick!"

He obeyed without hesitation pulling you along, hurrying through the open doorway.

"Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!" muttered a tall figure, passing them on his way into the street and slammed the door behind him.

“Harry,” you whispered.

“Hush, Y/L/N,” he silenced.

Harry had had no idea where the two of you were, but now he saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust bar of the Hog's Head Inn. You ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a trickery wooden staircase, that you climbed as fast as you two could. The stairs opened into a sitting room with a durable carpet and a small fireplace, above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness.

“You two can stay here,” the man muttered, “I’m a friend of your mothers’ Potter. You’re safe until dawn.” He then left the two of you

Letting out a breath of relief, you turned to face Harry who was still shaken up. but he was trying his best to hide it. 

“Y/N, I just put your life in danger,” he breathed. Frowning, you rubbed his arm.

“It’s okay, we’re in this together until the end, remember.”

He scratched the back of his head. You grabbed his face with your hands, pressing your lips to his. He lightly kissed you back. You immediately knew somethign was off.

“I’m fine with me getting hurt, but I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt. I can’t keep putting your life on the line when this is my battle to fight,” he said. You took a step back.

“Why’re you talking like this, Harry. What’re you trying to say,” you scoffed. You didn’t know how to react.

“I’m saying that.. we need to break up-”

“No. Harry, no. You are not doing this right now,” you cut him off. You crossed your arms over your chest as you felt your eyes stinging. You were not going to cry; this would only make matters worse.

“We have to. You’re not safe with me-”

“And Ron and Hermione are when they’re with you?!” you exclaimed, devastated. “They’re no different than I other than we have a romantic relationship.”

“That’s different and you know it Y/N. I’ve known them longer.”

He immediately regretted saying that after it left his mouth. You jaw dropped and shook your head, letting out an unbelieveable scoff through your nose. He had really just said that.

“Wow, I didn’t know that I meant nothing to you this whole time.”

“That’s not what I meant to say-”

You put your hand in his face. Your eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now as you looked around properly, the only picture in the room. “Well you did.”

Harry felt overwhelmed; he could not explain it. “I’m just trying to do what is best you. You know I love you with all my heart, but I can’t allow you to get hurt because of me.”

You kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about letting you go because that was the last thing he wanted to do. He had no desire to doubt himself again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. 

You met his gaze, his bright green eyes held so much pain behind them. All you did was nodded and apparated out of the room, returning to what was left of Hagrid’s cottage at the time.

Ever since your breakup, the two of you never spoke again. You still saw him frequently, however you were good at cutting people out of your life and he unfortunately had became one of them. It hurt him just to see you or hear someone talking about you. The both of you tried to hide your pain from each other but it was obvious to everyone else except the two of you. 

Eventually, you had gone through the war without seeing Harry and since then you erased him from your memory. But one little trigger could have brought it back- such as this moment.

Harry walked and sat down right next to you. He pulled you in for a hug and you returned the gesture. Breathing in each others scents, both of you didn’t want to let go.

It had been years, but you couldn’t help but still feel a bit of resentment

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said smiling. 

Pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, you let out a small laugh. A laugh he longed to hear since the moment you two had split.

“Yeah, I teach potions here. How about you? You wanted to come back to Hogwarts after everything?”

He nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor now.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, isn’t that a cursed position,” you chuckled.

He smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s something like that. I’m hoping to break that curse starting with me and the future to come.”

You nodded, returning your gaze back to the students. You didn’t know how you felt talking to him again. Your mind was going in different directions.

He cleared his throat catching your attention again.

“Y/N. I know this is long overdue but, I wanted to apologize for that night,” he began.

You remained emotionless. You didn’t want him to know how affected you had been.

“I know there were still unspoken things between us that we wanted to say-”

“I didn’t have anything to say to you Harry. I respected your decision,” you shook off, waving your hand. You held onto your own arms, staring at your plate in front of you. 

Were there still feelings? Yes. 

“I just don’t want any hard feelings between us,” he frowned, “I could never let anything happen to you.”

“I know, I understand why you did what you did,” you said.

“I have to admit that I couldn’t help but feel as though you hated me whenever I saw you through the halls when we were students,” he said forcing out a laugh. At this point, he was trying to make conversation with you because he didn’t want to say goodbye again.

No one knew how you two didn’t see each other throughout the entire school year. You just kept yourself so preoccupied that you never paid attention to who was here at the school.

“I don’t hate you. You are... were my first love,” you admitted, biting the inside of your cheek. 

This time Harry got quiet.

Without realization, time had passed by quicker than you expected. McGonagall clacked her glass with her spoon catching the attention of everyone. She instructed that dinner was over and for everyone to return to their rooms. You immediately stood up. Turning to Harry, you pulled him in for one more hug.

“It was nice seeing you, Harry. I’ll see you around, okay?” you weakly smiled.

“Right,” he said lowly. He hugged you back, returning the gesture with more strength. He didn’t want to let go. Hesitantly pulling away, you bowed your head and made your way outside the Grand Hall.

#Harry Potter #harry #potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #HP #hp fanfic #hp imagine #hp reader insert #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter x one shot #daniel radcliffe

[shirtlesssammy]

4x12: Criss Angel Is a Douchebag

Then:

I always trusted her.

Now:

Let me start by exclaiming Barry Bostwick is in an episode of Supernatural! I often forget because I don’t rewatch this episode that much. I don’t know why. It also has the PI from House and a cool Prestige vibe to it. 

Anyway, Barry Bostwick Jay is trying to impress a young bartender with a neat card trick, but messes up the shuffle. Another magician mocks him from across the bar. A companion admonishes his rudeness. The man is clearly drunk and comes over to ruin the trick.

The bartender tells the guy to “leave the old guy alone.” Oof, Barry Bostwick will never be old. (I weep thinking how old this episode is now!) 

Later, Jay and two companions, Charlie and Vernon, mock a Criss Angel-like illusionist practice his stage performance. (I recognize one of his companions because I watched Fletch in my youth more times than a child should). Jay tells them that this “douchebag” isn’t the joke, they are. They’re washed up old men, and their magic days are behind them. He announces that he’s going to do the Table of Death that night. It’s crazy talk! 

Cut to Jay on stage about to perform the Table of Death. He gets locked into the table and glaces at the spikes above him. AlL iS GoOd! Charlie pulls the curtain and walks off stage to share grim looks with Vernon. 

Drunk Magician leaves the bar, with the warning by his companion that his show is in an hour. A man in a cape need not worry about time! 

The Table of Death is looking more death-y as the seconds tick. Jay struggles to escape his confines. The fuse burns down to the rope. The music escalates. The spikes drop. And Drunk Magician grasps his chest. The curtain is pulled back to reveal a fully intact Jay. He did it! Hurrah! Drunk Magician though? He’s dead on the street, puncture wounds dotting his white tuxedo shirt. No, Barry Bostwick! 

Criss Angel-lite is performing a “demonstration” on the street to onlookers. This is not a trick. It’s a “demonstration about angels and demons.. love and lust..” And that’s it. That’s the story of Supernatural. They’re not trying to trick us guys. Anyway, Dean and Sam approach in their FBI garb. Dean is skeptical but Sam, the nerd’s nerd that he is, knows how the guy is. He’s Jeb Dexter, kinda famous for “douchebaggery”. He does his little trick and the crowd is impressed. 

Dean remembers that Sam went through a faze of liking magic when he was 13. Dean doesn’t understand the appeal of playing the act when there’s actually magic and demons out there. And I ACHE For HIM. AND Sam. Like, Sam was able to indulge in the playing of the supernatural and mystical because of how Dean raised him. Dean didn’t get the chance to play at anything. Bby Dean, you escape into your soap operas and horror movies where the good guy always wins! Take a break. 

They’re in town to investigate Drunk Magician’s Vance’s death. His assistant makes it clear that he wasn’t well liked in the community. Dean asks about weird stuff with him and she shows them the Ten of Swords tarot card. 

Charlie and Jay talk in Jay’s hotel room. Charlie wants to know how Jay pulled off the Table of Death. 

Jay is super pumped about his new super magician powers! He can do amazing card tricks! He’s ready to try the Executioner! That sounds...wise. He’s better than Houdini! Charlie doesn’t want him to do it. He won’t watch Jay die. 

Later, at the venue, Dean interviews Vernon about Vance. Jeb really is a douchebag. He’s interviewing Jim Jay, “a wicked cat that came before [him]”. Vernon used to use the tarot deck in his act, but that’s been years ago now. Dean wonders if he knows anyone that uses the deck now. They send Dean away with a vague “guy down on Bleecker Street” lead. Dean, how can you not see through them!? Anyway, they send him to a place where he’s supposed to ask for “Chief”. 

Dean goes to see “Chief” and is led to a very dark and dreary basement. And he gets to meet “Chief”. 

Ruby show sup at Sam’s door telling him that he’s got to get back into fighting form. The seals are breaking. She tells him he needs to go after Lilith if he wants to stop all this. (Sure, Jan.) If Lucifer rises, “oceans of people” are going to die. Sam needs to start drinking that demon blood again! 

Dean and Sam meet up at the magician show. We overhear Vernon and Charlie discuss talking Jay out of doing his latest trick. Dean calls them out of sending him to the “Chief”. They call him out on being a fake fed. Touche. They cover by saying they’re actually doing research beause they’re aspiring magicians themselves. 

Jay’s act starts. 

Jay gets trussed up in a straight jacket and noose. (Jeb preens in front of his mirror.) He has 60 seconds to escape. The curtain is drawn. His shadow struggles. (Jeb continues to preen. A noose uncoils and snakes it’s way around his ceiling fan.) The time runs out. Jay seemingly falls to his death. (Jeb meets Mr. Rope and dies instead.) Jay’s FINE! Dean is SO impressed (Like, bby is ACTUALLY impressed, sweet child.) Sam has doubts. (Jeb is dead dead dead.)

Back at their motel, Sam and Dean pore over the lore - or at least over Jay’s bio. Once a “big deal” magician, Jay’s slid into obscurity. They’re speculating that the culprit is a death transference spell. “I hope I die before I get old,” Dean says, and I hiss like a cat who has just been dunked in a lake. Sam yearns to live long enough to marry a blurry woman. Dean wants to go out well before the dreaded old age of sixty. “It ends bloody or sad, that’s just the life,” Dean tells him.

I wonder how Dean managed to crystal ball his way into their future with such cutting accuracy. Sam wonders if they go after the head evil honcho, if maybe they can carve out a happy ending for themselves.

At Jeb’s hotel, Dean flashes the latest tarot card to Sam. He speculates that the cards are a way to pinpoint the death transference spell to a particular victim.

Jay returns to his motel room, tailed by The Amazing Winchesters. They confront him with guns drawn and demand that he confess to the magical murders. Jay scoffs. There’s no such thing as magic, dummies! Hitting a wall with their shock confession tactic, they decide to tie Jay up to buy themselves some time. Alas, Jay the magician slips his bonds and escapes. Cops confront the Winchesters in the lobby.

Later, Charlie berates Jay for his reckless stunts in the green room. Jay’s spooked by the Winchesters’ allegations. He reveals that he had intended to kill himself with the table of death trick. Charlie bolsters Jay’s ego, telling him that he’s an incredible magician and that he’s got to TAKE CHANCES and DO THE TRICK. On stage, Jay struggles against his bonds, but once again avoids certain death. Unfortunately, there’s a shriek backstage. Charlie lies dead, punctured on the floor.

Jay springs the Winchesters from jail and meets them at a bar. They theorize that Vernon is running the mojo behind the scenes. While Vernon heads to the stage to meet with Jay, Sam and Dean investigate Vernon’s room.

Jay’s in full accusation mode with Vernon when a young...Charlie appears!

He shed his skin like a snek! Charlie reveals that he’s been alive for a long time. He found a spell for immortality in a spellbook, as one does. Charlie tries to convince them to join the immortal magicians club when the Winchesters burst in.

Charlie tosses a magical rope around Dean’s neck, leaving Sam to menace Charlie with his handgun. Quickly, Charlie gets the upper hand and straps Sam Fucking Winchester under the spikes o’ doom. It’s looking bad for our heroes, when Charlie suddenly gets invisibly stabbed.

Jay stands stoic, with a knife buried in his gut. He took Charlie down by picking the magic tarot deck from his pocket and planting a card on him. As Charlie dies, the Winchesters are released.

Back in the bar later, Jay sadly shuffles cards. He’s lost his magic-boosted skillz. Dean thanks him for killing Charlie. Urf. “Charlie was like my brother. Now he’s dead because I did the right thing,” Jay spits (thematically) before toddling off sadly to head back home.

The Winchesters avoid discussing their feelings. Sam takes a walk and finds Ruby outside. “I’m in,” he tells her. He doesn’t want to still be fighting when he’s an old man.

Abracaquotes:

What’s the price tag on immortality? 

You ain't been had ‘til you been had by the Chief

The whole world's about to be engulfed in hellfire, and you're in Magictown, USA

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #spn 4x12 #criss angel is a douchebag #supernatural season 4

[writingblock101]

Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Request for anon: “Would you write a Damian fic that’s him basically being a total brat in the beginning and immediately starting an antagonistic or combative relationship only to be thrown on his ass when he’s like wait?? I think I actually like her?? How do I get her to stop arguing with me??

Word Count: 3,700

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

You and Damian are 12 at the beginning of this. Enjoy! 

“That was awesome!” Jon grins. “But watch this!” He fires laser beams from his eyes at the target down the range. 

“Whoa!” You cheer. “Oh, I got another one!” You notch and fire six consecutive arrows, hitting the target in the pattern of a smiley face. 

Jon laughs. 

“Can you do any other shapes?” 

“I’m working on doing animals. Roy thinks it’s funny, and Jason wants me to learn how to spell out messages,” You grin proudly.  

You started as a street rat in Star City inspired by Green Arrow and Arsenal but you bit off a little more than you could chew. Good thing Arsenal was there to watch your back then he found himself in possession of a protege. To this day, Roy swears he still doesn’t know how you talked him into training you, but Jason told you he has a soft spot for street kids. 

You’re at the Justice League Watch Tower because apparently the Justice League wants to work out a deal with the Outlaws or something. You think it’s stupid, but you guess you can give credit to League for trying to bridge the gap between themselves and the Outlaws. Batman has failed for years to do so effectively, but then again, for the world’s greatest detective, Batman is kind of a dumbass. 

Luckily, you didn’t have to sit in on the shit show because Superman brought Superboy with him, and apparently Batman is bringing Robin. Jon speaks highly of Damian, but Jason refers to him as the “demon child”. Then again, Jason didn’t like Tim for a long time, but you think Tim is cool, so maybe Jason’s wrong about Damian. 

“Oh, great, another arrow,” A new voice groans from behind you. 

“Damian!” Jon grins. “This is Y/N, Black Falcon!” 

“I was expecting someone more impressive, but perhaps I had my standards too high for an arrow,” Damian narrows his eyes. 

Okay, maybe Jason wasn’t wrong... 

“Funny,” You raise an eyebrow. “I thought Robin would be taller.” 

“I am a perfectly adequate height,” He growls. 

“Okay, pipsqueak.” 

Damian rolls his eyes again. 

“It’s clear you’ve been living with Todd by your childish insults.” 

“At least I don’t get mistaken for a nine-year-old.” 

“Perhaps that is a problem you have. I am twelve.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

You watch his jaw clench, a smirk working onto your face. It’s almost cute how hard he is pretending to not be annoyed by you. 

“Y/N was showing me her archery skills! Look, she can make shapes!” Jon points toward the target downrange, probably hoping to diffuse the situation quickly building between you and Damian. 

Damian rolls his eyes, looking unimpressed. 

“What tactical advantage does shooting your arrows in a smiley face give you?” 

“None,” You admit, slinging your bow over your shoulder. “But I bet you can’t do something more impressive.” 

You see him rising to the bait as he glares at you. 

“I don’t stoop to childish competitions to prove myself.” 

“Come on, Dami,” Jon pleads. “Show us the trick with the Batarang and the apple!” 

Damian whips around to glare at Jon for exposing him partaking in “childish competitions” while your mischievous smile deepens. 

“Unless you’re scared of your party trick looking lame,” You taunt. 

“It’s not a party trick!” Damian barks. 

“Right because I’m sure you have a lot of use for being able to throw Batarangs at apples in the field,” You roll your eyes. 

“Target practice,” Damian snaps.

“And a normal target wouldn’t work?” 

Damian glares at you for a long minute. 

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving past Jon toward another room. 

“Does this mean you’re going to do it?” Jon asks hopefully.

“Fine.” 

“Yes!” Jon grins, then motions for you to follow him. “Come on! We’ve gotta go get apples from the cafeteria!” 

“There’s a cafeteria in here?” You dazedly question, following Jon and Damian.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes. 

While the Outlaws have some cool technology (especially Kori’s ship!), most of their technology pales in comparison to the Justice League’s resources. Damian retrieves apples while Jon explains some of the other technology around the Watch Tower. The three of you return to the training room then Jon tosses an apple into the air. 

Damian throws three Batarangs, slicing the apple into six even pieces in midair. He glances back at you, looking smug. You will admit, his accuracy is impressive. You’ve thrown knives before and it’s hard to be accurate throwing one knife at a moving object, much less three and slicing the target evenly, but of course, you can’t show that you’re impressed. 

“Hey, Jon, can you slice one of these apples mid-air with your laser eyes?” You ask. “I’ve got an idea.” 

Jon grins and eagerly throws an apple in a high arch, then cuts it with a blast of his laser eyes. You notch an arrow and fire it through the two apple halves, pinning it to the wall before it can hit the ground.

“Nice,” Jon praises while Damian looks bored. “My turn,” He hands you an apple to throw.

You toss it for him and Jon flashes his laser eyes again, but this time when the apple hits the ground, there’s a zig-zag pattern wrapped around it. 

“That was cool!” You grin. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Damian looking at the apple with an impressed expression. 

“Toss two at once,” You tell Jon, notching an arrow. 

He throws two apples into the air, then you fire your arrow through both apples, pinning them to the wall. 

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes. “Throw two more,” He tells Jon. 

Jon grins, then throws two more apples. Damian throws a Batarang, one side of it catching one apple and the other burying itself into the other apple so that by the time the Batarang hits the floor, both apples are embedded on either side of it. 

“I bet I can hit an apple before you can slice it with a Batarang,” You challenge Damian. 

A smirk crosses his face. 

“Be prepared to be disappointed.” 

. . .

By the time Roy came to get you, you, Jon, and Damian had ran out of apples. Instead, Damian was throwing one of his Batarangs with a hole in the center of it while you tried to fire an arrow through the hole. 

You notch another arrow then nod at Damian. He tosses the Batarang. You follow it with your arrow through the high arch then release, the arrow flying through the air and through the hole in the middle of the Batarang. 

“Yes!” You cheer, high fiving Jon and Damian. 

“Damian! Do you think you can hit one of Y/N’s arrows mid-air?” Jon asks. 

Damian glances over at you for a moment. 

“I can hit one of Y/N’s arrows easily, but will Y/N be able to hit one of my Batarangs?” He taunts. 

“I could hit it in my sleep.” 

Before Damian could remark with something witty, Roy interrupts. 

“And as much as I would love to watch that, I don’t feel like replacing all your arrows yet. Come on, let’s go home.” 

You frown at Roy but turn to Jon and Damian. 

“Next time,” You promise, then follow Roy out of the room. 

Jon and Damian watch you two leave then Jon turns to Damian with a grin. 

“Y/N is cool. I like her.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“She’s insufferable.” 

“Sure,” Jon agrees knowingly. 

Damian glares at him, ignoring the mischievous smile on Jon’s face. 

. . .

You’ve never been to the Manor before, but a few months after the Justice League meeting, Jason had to retrieve some intel from Batman, and Roy sent you along with him to make sure Jason doesn’t start a fight with his foster father. He says Jason wants to set a good example for you so he won’t get in a fistfight with Bruce while you’re there.

“Alright, come on,” Jason ruffles your hair. “I know you want to see the Batcave.” 

Currently, you’re sitting in the kitchen, chatting with Alfred, but at the mention of the Batcave, your face lights up. 

“Thanks for the sandwich, Alfred!” You grin, chasing Jason out of the room. 

“Of course,” He smiles. 

Jason leads you over to the grandfather clock then moves the hands on the clock to a specific time. The clock shifts, revealing a doorway. 

“Whoa,” You breathe, following Jason down the stairs into the huge cave. 

You walk around the room slowly, taking everything in then you notice a figure sitting in front of the Bat computer. 

“Tim!” You grin. 

Tim spins around in his chair and smiles at you. 

“Hey, Y/N, hey Jay. I didn’t know you guys were going to be here.” 

“I’m picking up some intel from Bruce,” Jason tells him. “Roy made me bring Y/N to make sure I would be on my best behavior,” He rolls his eyes. 

“And I wanted to see the Batcave,” You add. 

“Bruce is in the back,” Tim jerks his head back toward a different area of the cave. “Come on, Y/N, I’ll show you around.” 

You grin and eagerly follow Tim around, soaking in all the information. He shows you the various souvenirs Batman has collected from the Rogue gallery, the collection of Bat suits and past Robin suits, miscellaneous technology, and the vast array of weapons. 

“This one is yours, right?” You ask, taking the bo staff off the wall. 

“Yep,” Tim confirms, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You ever used one?”  

“No,” You admit. “But sometimes I use my bow for hand to hand combat when I’m in a pinch. I’m not very good, but I’m getting better. Jason is helping me.” 

“I could show you a few moves if you want,” Tim offers.

“Yeah!” You grin then Tim leads you onto the mats in the training area. 

In comparison to Dick and Jason, Tim is fairly skinny. He doesn’t have the advantage of lots of muscle mass, so he has to compensate in different ways which is perfect for training you. While Roy and Jason are both good teachers, they are also both jacked while as of a year ago, you were starving on the streets, so you’ve been building your muscle back up, but you’re nowhere near their muscle mass (and probably never will be). 

Tim shows you a few moves with his bo staff and even finds a bow for you to practice with so you can translate the moves over to your choice of weapon. He also shows you a few moves that allow you to flip someone over, even when they are heavier than you. 

You push with your legs, driving your hips forward and pull down on Tim’s left arm, forcing him over your shoulder. Tim hits the ground with an “oof” but grins up at you. 

“That was good,” He praises then you hear a familiar scoff behind you. 

“That was child’s play,” Damian cross his arms. 

Tim sighs, sitting up. 

“Oh yeah?” You cross your arms. “Come on the mats, I’ll show you child’s play.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“If I wanted an easy fight, I’d spar Drake.” 

“Thanks,” Tim remarks sarcastically. 

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” You taunt. 

“Tt, I’ve fought against opponents twice your size blindfolded and won. I don’t fear losing.” 

“Sounds like a lot of excuses to me.”  

“I spend my training time improving, not fighting those beneath me.” 

“Beneath you?” You question. “You’re three feet tall. There’s not many people beneath you.” 

Tim snickers from the mats while Damian glares at you. 

“I am not short!” He protests. 

“Sure you aren’t, champ,” You smile condescendingly. “You’re just fun sized!” 

Damian glowers at you then steps onto the mats. 

“Fine. I’ll partake in your pathetic training exercise.” 

You grin then Tim steps off the mats to let you two spar, watching from the side. You will admit that you may be a bit out of your depth by sparing Damian. It’s no secret that he is very well trained and an extremely talented fighter. You’re more a long-range type of fighter, but he’s too damn smug for you to not at least try to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. Somehow, you manage to shake out of Damian’s hold, flinging him off you. 

Damian is a good fighter, but you know you’re putting up one hell of a fight right now. He lunges forward, and that’s when you see your opportunity. One minute, Damian is upright, in fighter’s guard, ready to strike, the next minute, he’s on his back staring at the ceiling, all the air knocked out of his lunges. 

“Nice job, Y/N!” Tim grins while you cheer, running over to high five him. 

“It worked!” You grin. “That was so cool.” 

Damian slowly sits up, looking a little dazed then Jason walks over and announces that it’s time to go. 

“Bye Tim!” You grin then smirk at Damian. “See you later, Bat Brat!” 

Damian doesn’t even have a witty remark to shoot back at the insulting nickname you yelled to him. Once you and Jason leave the cave, Tim looks over at Damian with a knowing grin. 

“You look a little starry-eyed there, Dames,” Tim shoots him a shit-eating grin. “Someone has a crush.” 

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian growls. “I do not have a crush.” 

“Oh please, everyone in this family practically falls in love when they meet someone who can knock them on their ass. I know that look. You like Y/N.” 

“No, I do not,” Damian snaps, getting to his feet. “She is insufferable and you’re even bigger idiot than I thought if you think I would ever be attracted to someone like her,” He storms out of the cave while Tim grins. 

. . . 

Initially, you didn’t want to join the Teen Titans. You think something similar to the Outlaws is more appealing than the Teen Titans, but Roy and Kori convince you to give it a chance. The Titans had an especially big mission that they needed some extra manpower on so you agreed to help. 

Low and behold, no one other than Damian Wayne is leading the team. You stroll into the tower with an overnight bag slung over your shoulder, Damian not noticing you until you say: 

“Wow, Robin. I remember when I was taller than you. Then again, everyone was taller than you.” 

Puberty was kind to Damian, finally blessing him with his father’s height. While Damian doesn’t have near the muscle mass of Bruce (what seventeen year old does?), you predict that Damian will eventually be taller than Bruce. 

Damian sighs, slowly turning to face you with an unimpressed look. 

“I see your humor hasn’t improved with age.” 

“I see you still have a stick up your ass.” 

It’s been a few years since you’ve seen Damian. Both of you have grown more into yourselves and improved skills, but some things never change. 

“Why are you here?” Damian demands. 

“Didn’t you hear? I’m your extra manpower on this mission,” You grin viciously. “I’m Y/N,” You introduce to the few Teen Titans you don’t recognize. 

“Great, the Justice League is dooming us to fail,” Damian rolls his eyes. 

“They did that when they put you in charge,” You snap back. 

“Yes, and I suppose you’ve had lots of experience leading your nonexistent team.” 

“Cute,” You sneer, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “I’m going to go claim a bed,” You announce then wander further into the tower. 

“So, Dames,” Gar asks. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Not a friend,” Damian growls. 

“You wish she were more than a friend,” Jon grins. 

“No, I do not,” Damian snaps. 

“I dunno,” Gar trails off. “It seemed flirty to me. What do you think, Jon?” 

“Definitely flirty,” Jon agrees. 

“Shut up,” Damian growls. “I was not flirting with Y/N. She is insufferable,” Then Damian storms off. 

Gar and Jon exchange a look. 

“He’s so into her,” Gar insists. 

“Has been since we were twelve,” Jon confirms. 

. . . 

You’ll admit it. Damian is a good leader. He’s a smug dick, but he’s good at what he does. Of course, just like any other of Damian’s talents, you would never admit this to him. His ego is big enough without you inflating it anymore. 

And while Damian is a good leader and a fantastic planner, sometimes, plans go astray, like this plan, right now.

“Shit,” Robin curses. 

You frown from where you’re keeping watch while Robin hacks into the compound files. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“They’ve got a highly advance software on here that will recover any deleted files from the hard drive,” Robin frowns. 

It was a rescue and extraction mission from a highly advanced facility experimenting on kidnapped kids to make super humans. The rest of the team was evacuating the facility while you and Robin went to extract data and destroy files. 

“So, we have to destroy the computer system,” You frown, looking at the vast system which spreads across the huge room then look in your quiver. “I only have two exploding arrows left and they aren’t strong enough to take out everything.” 

Robin curses in Arabic. 

“I don’t have enough explosives on me to destroy the whole system either. Perhaps Superboy could--” He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps running your direction. 

You draw your bow again, ready to fire. 

“Looks like we’ve been found.” 

As the first security guard rounds the counter, you let the arrow fly, shooting him in the shoulder. Robin uses a flying roundhouse to knock out the guard while you fire an arrow at a guard attempting to sneak up on him. You fire another arrow then punch a nearby guard in the face. Before the guard can recover, you backhand him with your bow then knock him backward with a front kick. 

“Black Falcon!” Robin calls, then flings a guard toward you. 

You fire an arrow into the guard’s shoulder and knee, the man collapsing to the ground with a scream. 

“We’ve gotta figure out how to destroy that computer without blowing up the building,” You grab Robin’s arm. “Come on, before they send more guards!” 

Robin nods, running back to the computer room with you, emptying the small explosives he carries with him. 

“These will take out some of the systems, but it won’t destroy the whole thing,” Robin frowns, digging through his utility belt. 

“What if I fire my explosive arrows at them? Between both of the explosives, that would be enough, right?” 

Robin pauses to think for a moment then begins arranging the explosives in a specific pattern. 

“Can you fire both of your explosive arrows at the same time?” 

“Pft, easily.” 

Robin nods then finishes arranging the explosives. 

“We need to get to a higher vantage point,” He pauses, looking around the room, then spots a vent. “There.” 

“Uh… You’re a little big for a vent, don’t you think?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at Robin’s broad shoulders. 

“Getting into small, high places is Nightwing’s specialty. I am more than capable.” 

You shrug. 

“Whatever you say.” 

“I’ve set the explosives to be a chain reaction. Fire at that one,” Then Robin points to the explosives at the top of the chain and you two make your way into the vent. 

While it’s a tight squeeze for Robin, he’s true to his word and maneuvers expertly into the vent. The only feasible way to hold your bow is sideways, but you’ve shot sideways plenty of times. 

“You ready, Bat Brat?” You ask. 

Robin nods curtly, clearly unimpressed with the old nickname. You grin at him then fire at the explosives. 

. . . 

The rest of the mission goes smoothly. All of the people experimented on are getting medical attention, any of the Titans that were injured are being patched up, and there were no casualties. You don’t mind the Titans. Heck, you might even join the team. 

Currently, you’re sitting on the roof of the tower, your feet dangling over the edge. While the Titans are cool, you enjoy your tall perches. You blame Roy for introducing you to the thrilling world of heights. 

Someone silently sits down next to you. You don’t even have to turn your head to know who it is. 

“You’ve got a good team, Dames,” You tell him. 

“They’re adequate,” He says simply. 

“That’s pretty high praise coming from you,” You tease. 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“You were also… adequate on the mission.” 

“Aw sucks, Dames. You’re gonna make me blush.” 

Damian rolls his eyes again. 

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” You tell him, bumping his shoulder. “You’re a good leader. This team is lucky to have you.” 

You see Damian look down out of the corner of your eye. You turn to see him hiding a blush. 

“Aw, Damian, are you blushing?” You tease, poking his cheek. 

“Shut up!” Damian snaps, his face growing darker. He bats your hand away. “I’m not blushing!” 

“Sure you’re not,” You grin, leaning back on your hands and admiring the city. 

You two sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the sunset over the city. Maybe Roy and Kori are right. Maybe it’s time for you to join a team of your own… 

“I…” Damian starts slowly. “I enjoyed having you in the field today.” 

You look over at Damian with a shit-eating grin. 

“Careful, Dames. With words like that, you might make me think you actually like me.” 

Damian blushes again, looking irritated. 

“Your personality is insufferable, but you have good skills.” 

“Uh-huh,” You nod, not buying anything he is saying. “Is that why you’re sitting on the roof with me and not your teammates?” 

Damian doesn’t say anything which only deepens your grin. 

“I enjoyed today too. We work well together,” You say. “I think I’ll have to tag along on another mission soon.” 

“...I’d like that,” Damian admits. 

You grin again, laying your head on Damian’s shoulder. 

“You know, you may be a cocky son of a bitch, but you’re alright, Dames.” 

“You’re still insufferable,” Damian tells you but leans his head on yours anyways. 

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with that line.” 

“I don’t need to fool anyone, it’s the truth!” 

“Uh-huh, Dames. Sure it is.” 

Me? Write a Damian fic where I’m happy with his dialog and characterization? It’s more likely than I thought. 

Part 2

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #robin #robin x reader #jon kent #superboy #roy harper #arsenal #red arrow #jason todd #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #roy and jason are co parenting #it's great #tim drake #red robin #garfeild #beast boy #can't remember his last name #dc #batman #dc comics #I'm really happy with how this turned out

[batmansymbol]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

dear anon! i don't think it's conceited at all to want to write for an audience. it feels wonderful to know when your work is connecting with readers. advice below.

so, in terms of my fic journey, lol: i first got traction on FFNet with my first long fic eleven years ago. i had done nothing to advertise it. this is unhelpful in terms of actionable advice, but it DOES show that readership levels can be random and unrelated to quality. that fic, though objectively worse than anything i've written in the past five years, remains my most popular piece.

and these are good things to keep in mind. there are loads of AMAZING fics that don't take off for whatever reason, and many popular works are...... hmmmm...... of questionable merit not for me. very important to just keep trucking and focusing on the craft, and not to let the readership game get you down!

anyway, that's not what you asked. regarding advertising: since joining tumblr in the Days of Yore like a decade ago, i've done what you've said you do - post here under the appropriate tags when i update, and that's it. BUT i do know there are other fan hubs where you could spread the word about your fics further! i'm aware of subreddits and discord servers for both HP fanfic in general and specific ships. i'm sure there are facebook groups and tiktok communities too.

i'm not sure what the etiquette is, but i'll bet there are threads/channels where you can link to your fics and increase the number of eyes on your work.

if you (like me) feel that cross-posting and promoting is a lot of work and anxiety, i also have some other advice that doesn't involve "advertising." it's more under the category of like... "product marketing," if i were to be real corporate about it.

the outside of the tin must match what's inside. ensure that your title and summary give an accurate sense of your story's tone. with this sort of "packaging" stuff, accuracy is always more important than ~sounding cool and dramatic~. it doesn't matter if somebody clicks through to your story if they then discover it's different than what they wanted.

in general you won't want your summary to be too long or too anemic. (unless it's short and REALLY snappy, like this one)

also, on AO3, avoid gigantic tag walls. best to list focal characters, relationships, and themes rather than every single thing inside. otherwise, it's hard for readers to discern what they're getting into.

if it's a long fic, have enough written at the outset to update regularly in the early days. people in fandom are, in my experience, SUPER forgiving toward authors who abandon or hiatus their works - but in terms of building interest, readers will naturally want to feel that the piece has momentum.

for instance, it might be hard to get excited about a fic that obviously has a massive scope, when only 5k words of it are available, posted in two chapters four months apart.

so, posting regularly up front is a good way to show that you're here to stay and excited to complete the work!

stay in one place. use a single pseudonym for similar works so that if somebody likes one piece of yours, they can easily access the others.

in some ways, i feel like fic-writing is a long game. say your first fic doesn't have a massive readership, but there are some people who are enthusiastic about it and will look forward to what you do next. repeat that seven times, and by fic number 8, you will start out of the gate with people who know and are excited about your work.

this goes double if you keep writing pieces in the same ship or sub-section of fandom. which is basically just branding.

more excitingly, you will also have improved your work by seven fics' worth of writing!

i hope this is somewhat helpful! happy writing, anon!

#reply #advice

[nerd2614]

April's Fall - Part 5

Lost Memories

@write-it-motherfuckers original prompt

Part 1 // Part 4

“Run away with me!” The young teen exclaimed as he twirled away from my blade.

I laughed and parried his returning blow. He was joking about it more often these days.

“I can’t, Raph. You know we’re needed here.” A smirk crossed my face as he fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Oh my April, my Autumn moon! How could you wound me so?” Raph threw his head back with all the pompous royal arrogance he could muster. I rolled my eyes and held my hand out for him to grasp. Raphael’s hand in my own was warm.

“We’re only using wooden swords now because someone got scared.” I teased.

His grip tightened and I braced to help him to his feet. He winked and swept his legs under my own. With a thud, I fell on top of Raphael and was flipped to the ground. I felt the cold bite of his dagger at my throat.

“We’re using wooden swords because you spilled my blood.” He reminded me with a wicked grin.

“You are both using wooden swords because we can’t trust either of you not to lob each other’s heads off accidentally.” A firm voice reminded us.

“Hello Father, Mother.” I greeted them politely, brushing the dust off my training pants. Raphael inclined his head and murmured his acknowledgement.

“Are you training like you’re meant to, children?” Mother inquired with a teasing lilt.

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Yes mother.”

“Carry on then.” Father waved his hand to reset the match. Raphael and I turned to face the centre of the ring, swords poised at the ready.

“I’m getting better!” Raphael exclaimed as he knocked the gilded blade from my hand. Practising to fight in ceremonial garb was always a pain. The weapons were too heavy and the material too restrictive.

I huffed and crossed my arms. I would never tell him, but the last round hand jarred my wrist badly. “Only because I let you win!”

“Oh, come on, April -” Raphael boasted as he passed my sword back, “- it is I who lets you win!”

I growled and brought my blade to attention, ignoring the twinge of pain. “Wanna bet?” Instead of retorting, Raphael nodded to someone behind me. I turned to see one of the younger messengers from the court. We had all celebrated his centenary not two moons ago.

“Lady April, there’s been terrible news from The Twisted. They’ve captured your parents.”

Suddenly my wrist didn’t hurt so much.

I was informed to wear the gown of spider silk as we were meeting someone important today. Standing next to Raphael, I could not figure out what was so important about the toad in front of us. He had beady eyes that reeked of betrayal. His hair was weird too, more like matted fur.

“This is James,” Raphael’s mother introduced when it became clear that I would not inquire, “he will help protect the both of you. You can trust him.” The last sentence was directed to me. She then left us to get acquainted, as was the custom.

“Hi, James, I’m Raphael! It’s about time there’s another guy around!” My friend grinned and held his hand out. He nudged me to encourage me to introduce myself.

“I don’t like you.”

“April!”

James licked his lips. “Don’t worry, Raphael. April and I will be close before you know it.”

I was aiming the arrows with vicious accuracy. Raphael had requested James accompany him today so he could learn the ropes. So when a throat cleared behind me I launched into an attack.

“Your training is coming along nicely, April.” The guardian almost smiled as he halted the arrows with a flick of his wrist.

“Guardian Sebastian.” I bowed my head in deference. “I apologise.”

“There is no need to apologise, child. It is I who should extend my apologies. We found your parents bodies at sunrise.”

Walking around in the forest was never peaceful anymore.

"She's only young." The people whispered.

"Who would take care of her?" Those of the court gossiped.

Even the trees were not silent. "Evil witches." they hissed as I passed them.

“You’ve been feeding information to the witch.” Raphael's demeanor was calm, but his eyes were filled with contempt.

"No, I haven't! How could -" With a flick of my wrist, the ceremonial sword that had been dangling uselessly on the wall bit into James' fleshy neck. His tearful protests stopped almost immediately, replaced with a smug grin.

"I see you have progressed far more than you let on, April." He spat my name with a venom that only fueled my disdain.

"Answer the question." The only reason he was alive was because Raphael desperately wanted it to be untrue.

"How did you know, Elf?" I sighed at James' futile attempt at prolonging the inevitable.

"I may look young, but I’m much older than you, mutt." Raphael snarled. I smiled and forced the sword deeper into his neck, making James stumble backwards to avoid being beheaded.

"That may be." James mocked. "I just can't wait for the day you get what you deserve. The war is just beginning… and I'll take everything from you. Just wait." With that he stormed out of the room into the arms of the guardians. His yells echoed through the corridor as he was dragged to his new home.

"I never did like him." I pointed out smugly. Raphael rolled his eyes before sinking into a pensive state.

Only mere seconds had passed between you swallowing the potion and waking up. You were still trying to warn your not-so-stranger against fighting the hellhound that held you captive. “Run!” You croaked weakly. “Run, Raphael”

James cackled with his hand still gripping your throat. “How does it feel to have lost, Raph?” He taunted.

“Get your hands off her!” Raphael snarled dangerously, "I shall not tell you again."

"What will you do, lover boy? Once I discard you it won't take long for April to forget all about you again!"

"What have you done!?" The one you'd been calling Grandmother screeched as she stormed out of the front door. "All of my hard work! Wasted!"

In her anger, the witch sent James flying through the air towards herself. She flung his body into the ground and proceeded to send sharp pebbles to collide with his skin.

“Idiot!” She bellowed.

Before you could process what was happening, Raphael had hoisted you to your feet and the two of you stumbled into the woods. Your vision was still faulty. The trees started to blur together.

“April, my love, please hang on just a bit longer.” Raphael knelt next to you and stroked your cheek lovingly. Blood smeared across your cheek.

“It’s really you.” A happy sigh escaped you as you returned the gesture. His face was battered and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

“Yes.” Raphael took in a deep, laboured breath. His hands clasped both of yours, squeezed them gently and let them go. “Now run. Stay off the path. The others are coming. I will distract her.”

“But-”

“Go.” His voice was firm. “You will see me again.”

You glared at Raphael without malice. It was not a vow that you would see him again alive. He always had a way with words, manipulating the person to think the outcome would be in their favour if they followed his words. You were always more direct - sometimes forgoing words altogether.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Raphael’s lips. He knew you would escape and be safe. Only because it was he who asked you. You limped further into the trees. Away from James’ howls of pain.

Birds fluttered in the trees above you. Small game hopped, ran, and bounded around you, creating a path for you to follow. The leaves crunched under your feet. One foot in front of the other, you concentrated on moving forward as fast as you could. You stumbled and fell to your knees. Tears welled in your eyes but you blinked them away. A doe tip-toed out from behind the trees. She knelt beside you in order to nuzzle you up. Her nose was velvety soft as you stroked it.

It took all the strength you had, but you managed to drag yourself to your feet. The doe stood with you. Placing a hand on her back, you allowed yourself to be led through the thicket. The howls faded until there was nothing but the sounds of running water and the whispering of trees.

You made it to a river before you fell again. The cold water was refreshing against the bruises and cuts on your skin. You wept into the water. Nothing made sense. Memories were still whirling in your head. Disgust at James. Betrayal at your Grandmother - no, the witch. Your bruised ribs made it hard to breathe which exacerbated your rising panic.

Movement further up the river caught your attention.

“Lady April!” A voice called out. He was wearing light armour that changed colours with the trees. “You’re back!” The young elf grinned as he placed a hand on your shoulder. You flinched away instinctively. His grin dropped.

“Where’s the Prince?” He asked, voice curious and stern.

“The Prince…”

“Oh, my Prince!” I swooned into Raphael’s arms. He promptly dropped me onto the soft clovers we were practising on.

“That’s no way to win!” Raphael laughed, pinning me to the ground. His grip was cumbered by the poofy skirts that made up my dress. I used it to my advantage to flip him over.

“I say it is.” I giggled. “Use every element to my advantage, right?”

“That’s why you’re my knight, my protector.” Raphael breathed out.

“A great job I’m doing.” I rolled off him to lay beside him in the grass.

“You are.” The Prince of the Autumn court stroked my hand with his thumb. “You know, one day I’ll rescue you.”

"And, one day, I'll be a Princess." I snorted.

Raphael smiled softly. "One day."

You clamped onto the elf’s hand. “The Prince, you have to help him. He’s fighting with-”

“APRIL!” His scream echoed over the water.

“- her.”

The witch cackled as she levitated Raphael behind her.

Tags: @scuzmunkie, @wordsaremylife, @luarinne, @inuhuffclaw, @wayward-demigod

#april's fall #April's Fall - part 5