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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

#bamf danny phantom #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #Jason takes him to a library and they pick out books for each other #Danny asks him on a second date and they talk about the book over coffee #and then they watch the stars (Danny uses his ghost powers to clear a patch of sky)#but Danny just kind of watches Jason’s face and goes yeah this is just as good #Danny dngasf #Danny will throw hands with a clown #Danny thinks the Gotham Rogues are kinda cute #with their gimmicks #unimpressed bc they’re kind of obvious #and he’s seen worse and better #danny is Gotham’s Mom Friend

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 17 days

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DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc memes #damian and danny are brothers

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deadghosy · 2 months

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Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

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The Royal Consort. Part 3

"Mr. Fenton! Will you be attending the Wayne Charity Gala with your husband?" A reporter demands, thrusting her mic into Danny's face.

"I-" He tries to say, but another reporter jumps in.

"Is it true Bruce Wayne is attempting to have his kids seduce your husband?"

"What?"

"Mr. Fenton, is it true that you could stop a war simply by batting your eyelashes?!"

"Hey, now that's uncalled for."

"What is the political climate in the wake of the disbanded Anti-Ecto Acts?"

Danny couldn't even tell where the questions were coming from. He tried to push through the crowd of new crews, but every step of the way, more and more people crowded him.

He should've stayed in the hotel room Mr. Wayne had rented for his family, but Danny had thought he could sneak out and explore Gotham.

After Dani had burst into the meeting room, in all her ghostly glory, the Justice League had allowed them a short recess so his parents could meet their "granddaughter."

He is still determining exactly what she told them, as he is too busy to dodge more of Batman's questions. He just hoped she could keep the ruse up in the face of his parents' smothering apologies.

His dad wrapped her up I'm his arms, sobbing the whole time while his mother was snapping pictures of Dani, crying about how much she had grown.

Thank the stars Jazz had pulled her "niece" to the side for a short conversation. When they came back, Dani had taken the princess role so well that she answered most of the Ghost Zone questions like the ambassador she was pretending to be.

Her age? Yeah, that was off cause the time zone difference in the Ghost Zone. She was only four years in human years but looked sixteen due to her half-blood and where she grew up.

The chances of war? No, her dad had appeased the war council after the United Nations called the USA on their bullshit.

Demands Phantom had? Respect the dead. Honor the rights of his people. Leave the natural portals alone, and if his subjects were causing issues call one of his to take care of it.

Did she not need an anchor? She's half-human, so she could pop between worlds at will, but only because the Ghost King allowed it.

Where had she been before Phantom took the throne? Danny was not in a stage of life to raise a child- he had only been fifteen!- so Phantom raised her in his lair. Yes, she came to visit Danny.

Did she practically say she was a child of separated parents? Yes. Did she regret it? Only when rumors about Phantom wanting to replace Danny sprung, and she had people trying to get her to introduce them to his "father."

How strong was she? Step into the ring, Wonder Woman; let's test it. (They did spar, and surprisingly, she gave Wonder Woman a run for her money, but in the end, the more experienced fighter won. The Amazonian offered to train her)

By the end of it, Danny and Dani left with stacks of possible legislation about peace among their people. They both promised to get it to Phantom.

Just as they left, Batman informed them that Bruce Wayne had invited them to the Gala. He also offered them asylum in Gotham by housing them in his family manor until the media died.

Danny had almost accepted, but Jazz had stepped in with sharp eyes and a cold smile. "Please tell Mr. Wayne we are honored by the offer, but we would prefer our own space."

Batman grunted. "Would a penthouse be predered?"

"Yes, thank you."

He loved Jazz.

His mom had whispered in Danny's ear as they were teleporting- the Justice League had teleporting technology!?- back to Earth. "Do you think the rumors about Bruce Wayne being Batman's lover are true?"

Danny had yet to pay much mind to Wes Weston's theories, but honestly, the way Batman was able just to promise things on Mr. Wayne's behalf.....well, if the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady could happen, why not a billionaire and a crime-fighting

Danny, Jazz, and Dani had been hiding in the pen house for about three days. His parents had returned home to secure their lab after the fifth time curious meddlesome reporters had tripped their house security.

Danny will admit he went stir-crazy, so using his powers, he turned invisible and went out when his sisters had been watching a show. He had made it for about five hours when someone saw him buying a coffee and tweeted his location.

His sightseeing had been cut short by the crowds of people that swarmed him.

"Mr. Fenton, what do you say about parents criticizing how early you married?"

Danny was pushed up against the wall by the crowd, wishing he could just turn ghost and drop this whole thing. He felt a burning sensation in the back of his eyes, and for one horrifying moment, he thought they were going to record him bursting into tears when a man broke through the crowd.

"That is far enough!" The man placed himself in front of Danny, shielding the eighteen-year-old. His British accent made the sharpness of his words even more scorching. "You all know that a press conference will be in a few days and that surrounding a royal could be an act of war! Get back!"

Danny had a moment of relief until someone snatched his arm. He flinches away, going for a punch, but it gets caught by the person tugging him through the crowd.

Danny could only blink at the smiling face of Dick Grayson until the man helped him into a car. The British man quickly came back, jumping into the driver's seat and speeding off as the crowd of reporters tried to get one last photo.

Danny's breaths were coming in short, fast puffs. He wasn't very sure what was going on. He couldn't think. There were so many flashes. So many voices. So many people-!.

A hand pushed his head between his knees, rubbing his back. "It's okay. You're okay. "

Danny gasped, tears finally falling as he tried to explain why he had done something stupid. "I-i just wanted to see- the landmarks- I didn't mean- I- I."

"Shhh. I know. It's okay. You're okay."

After a while, Danny was able to sit up. His saviors had asked him to name five things he saw, four things he could hear, three things he could listen to, and one thing he could taste to calm down, but it worked. Only then did he realize there were more people in the fancy car with them.

A boy his age sat on his right, having been the one to push his head down. It took only a second to recognize him: Tim Drake, teenage CEO and one of the most attractive men he had ever seen.

A blond teenage girl who also seemed their age sat in the passenger seat, though she twisted around to give him a warm smile. She was also very gorgeous.

Not to mention Dick Grayson, who had a warm hand on his back. Adonis must have returned as the first adopted son of Bruce Wayne because, goddam, that man was fine.

Even the British man was handsome for someone his grandfather's age.

Had he died (again) and gone to heaven?

"Here," Drake placed a cold water bottle in his palm, offering the gobsmacked Danny a small smile. "Drink. It'll help."

"Ugh...I.. thank you for rescuing me," He managed to gasp out.

"Don't mention it. We all know the hell of the paparazzi. Glad you alright. " the girl said. "I'm Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph. The guy to your right is Tim Drake, the one on your left is Dick Grayson, and this fine man driving us is Alfred Pennyworth."

"I'm Danny Fenton." He says, taking a swing. The cold water went down his throat and grounded him.

"We know. You've made quite the wave with your marriage." Grayson said though not unkindly. "We'll have to take you to our manor to switch cars; otherwise, they'll just wait for us at the hotel."

Danny thought it over before whispering, "Can I message my sister? She must be worried-"

A portal rips open in front of him. The other humans all let out cries of alarm but not as loudly as Danny when Phantom's head pokes out of it.

He has a moment to wonder how in the world that was possible until the ghost waves at him using one of Clockwork's necklaces. Oh, it's him from the future. Okay. That's happening.

"Darling! I felt you in distress! What happened?! Shall I punish everyone in Gotham? " Phantom questions in a tone Danny had never been aware he could make. It's smooth. It's all-knowing. It's seductive.

What the fuck is going on?

"There is no need for any form of punishment. Not to worry, your highness." Drake quickly jumps in. "We would never allow anything to happen to your husband. I will personally keep Mr. Fenton away from any danger. "

Danny watched in slight horror as his future ghost self gave the other man a long look before smirking. "I appreciate the offer, and you are certainly my type with that black hair and blue eyes, but I am fine with only one husband. Danny will decide to add you to the marriage if he would like to have more partners."

Drake blinks wide started eyes. "I- I beg your pardon?"

"I have a protection and ice core. Proclaiming to keep my romantic partner safe is the same as asking for my hand in marriage due to the customs of protective spirits. Were you not aware?"

"I wasn't!" Danny interrupts loudly. " I was very unaware that meant marriage proposals!"

Phantom gives him a cheeky smile, and suddenly Danny understands why all his Rouges had wanted to beat his face so often. He can be rather annoying.

"No one will be above you, darling. You are the embodiment of beauty, and I would never desire another. However, the royal family is allowed concubines. You may take human ones if you wish to. I wouldn't want to ruin any of your fun."

"Who told you to say this!?" Danny demands, forgetting himself for a moment. Or the watchful eyes of the Waynes swinging between them with prompt attention.

"Why just the royal advisor!" Phantom laughs, his white hair bouncing as he tilts his head.

Jazz. She was responsible for this. How could he have thought she was sane?

"I don't want a concubine!" Danny yells, face burning. He's never been more mortified in his life, including walking down. For breakfast in Superman boxers, only to find Superman at the bottom of the stairs.

What a terrible day that was to run out of clean pants.

Phantom smiles. "I love you too, darling. I shall see you soon. I do not wish to strain your body anymore."

He thrusts his head back into the glowing green portal, and with a soft pop, he's gone. The car is utterly silent until Grayson whispers.

"Does this mean Tim just got married through fae laws?"

Danny whips his head at him. "No! It does not!"

Drake lets out a small breath of relief. "Oh, thank God. Not that you aren't hot, Mr. Fenton, but I'm not ready for marriage."

Danny wonders if he can reach the door handle to throw himself out of a speeding car. He knows somewhere in the future. He is laughing his ass off at current him.

"Dude, none taken. Could you clarify how I ended up here? I just wanted to jump across Gotham roofs, and suddenly, I can marriage trap people."

Danny wishes he could kick his own ass- not counting Dan- as Steph breaks into uncontrolled laughter.

"Oh, Danny, you're going to fit in well!" She says between wheezing.

Grayson raises his hand, face glued to his phone. "Bruce just sent in the family group chat that none of us are allowed near Phantom."

"Why?" Danny asks.

Grayson shrugs. "We're all his type, and Bruce's heart can't handle that."

"Fair enough"

(Part 1) (Part 2)

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #the royal consort #Part 3 #Danny time traveled just keep up the ruse #Jazz figured out Batman was suspecting something so she sent him back to give Phantom a Brucie Wayne cover #Bruce is having a heart attack #Once again Alfred is Real MVP

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spacexseven · 1 year

Note

Fyodor would be a family man that’s good at hiding his true intentions from his family such as the decay of angels and rats house along with his s/o just nurturing their son and having a peaceful side along with Nikolai being a family friend who would entertain Fyodors son. One happy family

anon i could kiss you senseless rn...literally one of the best things i've ever had the honor of seeing in my inbox. this idea has ruined me i swear it's Perfect

fem reader, reader is married to fyodor and has a son w him

cw: yandere character, deceit, manipulation, mentioned murder

fyodor dostoevsky makes for a wonderful husband—loving, ordinary, almost suspiciously so, but you married him knowing that he was an ordinary man. you loved him knowing that he was an ordinary man.

an ordinary man with some extremely unsettling secrets, none that you knew about.

the fyodor dostoevsky you knew and loved was the man who kissed the palm of your hand, and if he was feeling particularly affectionate, your forehead, every morning before he left for work, with a half-smile on his lips and a fond gleam in his eyes. you weren't quite sure what he did, except that he worked for a company of some kind, but you didn't like the way his face hardened when you probed, so you left it at that. it didn't matter what he did, anyway, so long as he came back to greet you every night, safe and unharmed.

the man you married was the one who'd come home to greet you with a tired nod and a warm embrace, entertaining your son's excited rambling over dinner. he held you close when he read before sleeping, stroking your hair with a light touch. as far as you were concerned, he was an amazing husband and lover.

though he was not necessarily a good person otherwise.

you were so easily blinded by the tender warmth he showed his family, that you hardly cared for his uncharacteristic slip-ups. like when he scowls, ever so slightly, when the news broadcasts some detective agency receiving an award, or when a ghost of a smile lingers as you wonder out loud how a casino could be floating in the sky.

you never once questioned the times he came home in an entirely different coat from when he went out, or when he was away for days on end, not calling you or leaving you a single message. was it because you trusted him wholeheartedly, or because you were afraid of what the truth really was?

but even if you had your own suspicions, it would have never even come close to what fyodor was really doing. how were you to know that the same lips that whispered sweet songs of praise to you with a coquettish smile were the same ones that uttered a death sentence to his countless victims? and how were you to know that the steady hands that caressed your body so intimately had also touched numerous corpses? the husband that spoiled you on anniversaries and birthdays could not be the same man that was actively planning to cover the world with the blood of sinners.

for the most part, you liked nikolai too. he was a little odd, considering his getup and his tendency to seemingly pop out of nowhere, but he was good friends with your husband—dos, as he called fyodor—and your son loved playing with him. he didn't tell you what he did, either, though he let it slip that he worked very closely with your husband. he refused to explain fyodor's unexplained disappearances, though he would often stop by to show your son a new magic trick when fyodor was gone for a little too long, just to reassure you a little.

nothing really gave it away; not the amused expression when you told him to stay safe on his way, nor his eccentric coworkers. you were just happy that your husband always came home to you, and never failed to remind you that he loved you. there were, perhaps, more things that should have worried you. the way fyodor insisted that you keep your social circle small, or the frustrated look in his eyes that was beginning to appear more and more often. even the peculiar things he was beginning to tell you.

you're lying in fyodor's lap, mind drifting between sleep and consciousness as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. then, perhaps noticing that you weren't completely asleep, a little smile appears on his face. "tell me," his voice is soft, but every word feels strangely heavy, "will you ever leave me?" you frown slightly, and he chuckles. "even if i did something you don't agree with?" you shake your head, "what's this about?" his smile widens, and he gently pinches your cheek. the look in his eyes is unnaturally cold. "it doesn't matter. either way...you don't have anyone else to turn to."

and you could have continued the way life was, with your mostly ordinary husband and your wonderful family. at least, until he turns up at your door after an especially long period of disappearance. you would be thrilled, normally, but you're much too shocked at the sight of your husband in what looks like a prison uniform to feel any relief.

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Home : bat!family x bat!sister

Summary: no one gets to offend my siblings and father. No one but me. I'll make sure of it.

***

Maybe it was a bad idea to apply for that Erasmus program and leave her brothers and adoptive father alone for whole three months. Sure, studying abroad, expanding knowledge, learning language and customs was an amazing experience, but it came with the cost. The price of being in fear that her family would get themselves in trouble, pain, fight they could not recover from.

The first two weeks of her adventure was the worst, since she was waking up at most random night hours, ready to jump into fight, those vigilantes instincts and habits kicking in.

Those were the nights when she was turning and tossing in her bed unable to close an eye and in result sneaking out her dorm room and walk around the campus like the ghost. The quietness and peacefulness of her surroundings at the academy were so different from those she knew in Gotham, it was almost disturbing.

There was no denying that Y/N was the smartest in the family, even Tim admitted it once (obviously not while talking to her, but she overheard his conversation with Bernard) but at times like this she was second-guessing her choices.

Due to her specific upbringing and family background she also never managed to form any deep connection with her fellow students, preferring to stay by herself, focus on the task and putting a lot of work into expanding her knowledge and skills in technology. She never complained, but from other people’s perspective she was an eremite. Kind, polite with perfect manners when someone asked her for something or while working in group, but still highly reserved. Just like her adoptive father, whose relation to she was trying to keep a secret. And it worked up to the day when one of the lecturers accidentally called her “Miss Wayne” in front of the whole class. The second he did it the air in the auditorium froze. She might have been in different country, but for God’s sake she was studying technology, of course everyone heard about the Wayne Enterprises and the Bruce Wayne.

“You’re his daughter?” one of the boys in the lower row turned around and eyed her suspiciously

“Yes. Adoptive one.”

“Of course. He’s well known for taking kids in, right? Seems like some sort of complex or maybe even a disease” he smirked and it made the girl clench her fist. Her relationship with Bruce might have been rocky, but no one except her and her brothers were allowed to judge and offend him.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” she hissed, eyeing the guy with ice cold gaze

“Miss Y/L/N! Mister Olsen! Please calm down and sit down!” the teacher tried to make up for his mistake but it was far too late for that.

“You misspelled my name once, might as well keep calling me Wayne now.” the tone of her voice matched the gaze. She was not going to let the guy easily, but getting in trouble with the dean was not a part of her plan. “Now, can we continue with the lecture? I don’t know about anyone else in her, but speaking for myself I would love to actually learn something useful.”

***

Y/N was the middle child. Younger than Dick and Jason, older than Tim and Damian which placed her literally halfway in the family. Because of that she was a mix of responsibility and carelessness, doing her own thing, not always the right way, but still capable of getting away with a lot more than the others. Not as family oriented as Dick, feeling a bit overshadowed by Jason, highly competitive with Tim and more independent and individualistic than Damian. Still, even despite her “boss bitch” attitude, she was sandwiched between her brothers which made her the best negotiator and mediator in the family. Y/N also had a strong sense of fairness and morality and would always try her best to do the right things. Objectively, not subjectively. And making fun of her family was not one the things she could forget. However, before taking any action she had to gather intel, figure out what the guy knew and then come right at him.

***

Waiting till the end of the class was probably the greatest torture she ever had to endure, every minute stretching into infinity and when it was over the sense of relief almost made her drop the plan. Almost.

“I’m not done with you, Olsen.” she was faster to the door, stopping her potential victim from getting away.

“You want more, Wayne?”

“Please. Hit me with your best shot. What is your problem with my family, exactly?”

“Let me think” he tapped his chin. “There are so many. Like for instance, your oldest brother. What was his name again? Oh, right! Dick. Suits him quite well, doesn’t it. A prick, if you ask me. Definitely a show-off with no skills.” He scoffed “Shall I continue?”

“ Please. You got like three more people to gossip about.”

“The second in line, Jason, right? Oh, the unhinged one. Violent, mocking, thinking he is better than anyone else around, when in reality he’s just a lost, scared child. Probably a dumbass too.”

“Pretty sure he would agree with that. Now what about Tim and Damian?”

At this point Olsen was getting a bit surprised that the girl in front of him was still unfazed. Her calmness, a sign of silent inside fury making him slightly uncomfortable. Not enough to stop however.

“Drake…..” the name rolled of his tongue while the boy was wondering what words to choose “oh, he’s the gay one, right? Such a shame that the renowned Wayne family has someone like that as a member. Bet your father would never take him in, if he knew. A fairy becoming the next CEO of his renowned company. How ironic!”

“Hm.” Oh, Y/N was so much like Bruce at times and it showed in the least expected moments.

Damn that girl! How could it not make her angry?

“And …… Damian, the only biological child. Absolutely maladjusted and unaware of social norms and boundaries. Tell me, how was it like to have your youngest brother violate your boundaries and personal space?”

“It was. ….educatory. Just like it was with everything you just said. You presented yourself as someone with some serious psychological issues and possibly an unhealthy interest in my family’s life. So thank you, it truly was illuminating.”

***

“What the hell did you do Y/N?” a very alerted Dick appeared on the other side of the screen

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” The girl sighted and fell onto the cushions bringing the computer onto her lap to see her brother better

“Don’t lie to me now, sis.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Bruce has been on the phone for the last fifteen minutes and from what I figured it’s about something that happened on the campus.”

“The only thing happening on the campus are students who skip classes.” She mumbled “maybe except that one time when one of the boys lost some stupid bet and blew up the fountain as some sort of punishment. That was funny.”

A little grunt was heard on Dick’s side and for a second he disappeared from the screen.

“Dick?”

“Sorry, I had a little interruption.” He rubbed his forehead “Now, back onto what you did…..”

“Did you say that someone blew the fountain?” third face appeared on the screen in the corner, taking over the conversation.

“Hello, Jason.”

“Hi sis. Maybe I should have joined you in your academic career. Seems like you have a lot of fun there. Besides, I never really finished school, since you know…. I died.”

“We know.” Y/N and Dick said in unison

“Always a good opportunity to remind you, right?” he grinned “Now, sis, tell me, how was it going full rogue on fellow student? I gotta admit I’m proud of you here.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Dick’s eyes grew wider than ever “I;m gonna ask you once again, Y/N. what did you do?”

“Nothing permanent.”

“What…..?”

“Cut her some slack, Grayson.”

“Look who decided to join us.” Y/N smirked “improved your computer skills much, Damian?”

“I got tired of being left out.”

“Since when do you care about the group?”

“Leverage, sis. Knowledge is power, I thought you knew that.”

“Ok, that is enough!” Dick finally lost his patience “I’m trying to have a conversation with my little sis here. Both of you, get out of the line!”

“Mhm, keep dreamin’ Dickhead.”

“For once I agree with Todd.”

“You have no right to…..”

“Guys…..” Y/N tried to mitigate them, but deep inside she enjoyed their bantering. It was a while since she experienced it and only now realized how familiar it was.

“I was here first!” Dick yelled “And I’m the oldest”

“No one cares Grayson! You are a Bludhaven resident now. Just because you visit the manor does not mean you can keep Y/N busy using the wayne’s devices!”

“Don’t you have someone to kill in the crime alley, Jay?”

“Unlike you, I succeeded in all my latest missions.”

“Is that what you call coming back to your safe house bloodied and injured. You were on the verge of death!” Damian smirked “you were absolutely inept, that’s not a success.”

“You were what, now?!” Y/N shrieked. Her second oldest brother was sometimes too careless.

“It was not that bad, Y/N, I swear. And how the fuck do you know about it, demon?”

“I have my ways.”

“I would suspect Drake of spying on me, but you?”

“Speaking of the devil, I’m surprised Tim hasn’t already join us.” Dick muttered

“Oh, he did.” Y/N pointed out

“WHAT?” her brothers cried. Now there was another one fighting for her attention and it was not a secret that Tim was her favorite making the situation harder.

“I did.” Tim chuckled “Well, to tell the truth Y/N let me in the channel. We have our ways with technology. Something none of you could ever fully understand. “

“Of course not….”

“Cheer up, Dami. You can’t monopolize all the areas.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Ok, everyone hold up here. I think we lost the point of the conversation. The thing was that Bruce was on the phone, probably taking to the dean about….”

“Y/N played a little prank on her classmate, is that right?” of course Tim was the one who everything best.

“He deserved it.”

“Y/n…..”

“Stop using the big brother voice on me! It’s not going to work!”

“How about we use Damian’s youngest one?” Dick teased

“I refuse to be used in this….”

“SHUT UP DAMIAN!” Dick and Jason shouted together and shared a murderous look between one another. Now they were both desperate to find out what happened since Tim would rather die than spill the bean. It was infuriating. They were the older brothers! This had to mean something.

“Ok, that’s it.” Damian stood up and the view of the empty chair in the place where his face should be was highly disturbing.

“That is not good.” Y/N said out loud something that all of them already knew. Her presumptions turned out to be right a second later when the shouting and yelling reverberated through the speakers and a blur of black and green rushed into Dick’s room.

“hey, I want to join the fight too!” Jason started up and with a speed, Wally West could be jealous of involved in the mix of limbs and screams.

“Wait! I though Dick was in Bludhaven! Tim?”

“Not today. We’re all in the manor.”

“And you idiots were talking to me through four different computers?”

“Are you actually surprised?”

“On second thought, not at all.” She sighed. It’s a good thing you are the reasonable one here…..”

“There you are, Timmy” now the situation has turned as it was Dick who appeared in the door of Tim’s bedroom “you are not getting out of this. If you want Y/n to yourself you have to fight me.”

“And me!” Jason tackled Dick to the ground with a loud thump

“Losers!” Damian jumped over their bodies and came right at Tim

Because of their actions, Y/N was the only one who noticed two men stepping from the shadows and exchanging some words. Apparently Bruce wasn’t capable of putting the boys in their places and asked Alfred to try this instead. And a single grunt from the butler did a miracle as all of them stood up and started explaining and apologizing. Funny as it was, Y/N knew that with Bruce’s arrival she was heading straight towards preaching from her father.

“Y/N.”

“Hello Bruce.”

“Did you break his arm?”

“You broke his arm?” Dick was halfway out but turned back immediately

“No.” Y/n shook her head “I broke his arm and hurt his legs.”

“Don’t forget that you also demolished his dorm room.”

“That wasn’t me. That was….”

“Did you go at him as a vigilante? Wow! Way to go, sis. Now I truly am proud of you.”

“Ok, both of you, out!” Bruce lost the rest of his patience pushing Dick and Jay away. “Now that we are alone…….” he sighed deeply closing the door tight

“I;m not sorry.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m not mad, because I’m sure you had a reason to do it. So tell me, why?”

“you…. you want to know ?”

“Of course. Look Y/n, I’m aware I won’t get a father of the year cup from you, but I care all right? Did that boy hurt you and you took retaliation? Just tell me….”

“He was talking shit about our family.”

“And you felt the urge to protect the Wayne’s honor?” Bruce smirked “this is so not like you.”

“Honor, my ass. We’ve lost that ages ago, Bruce. The only thing I was protecting was my sole privilege of mocking you. No one else is allowed to do it.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell your brothers that you miss them. “

“That would be most welcome.”

“And you have to know that we don’t miss you either, y/n.” father and daughter’s gazes met and they both nodded in silent agreement, right corners of their mouths lifting almost unnoticeable. “You coming to visit next week?”

***

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong and that tingling sensation became unbearable the second she climbed the manor’s stairs and reach for the doorknob with a heartrate so fast it would send anyone else straight into cardiac arrest. Y/N however kept her cold blood, focusing on what may happened inside and considering her options and strategies for a potential fight.

She could not expect that the moment she opened the door four figures would jump out from the shadows making the noise that would bring the dead from behind the grave. It startled her and as a result she stumbled back, hitting the wardrobe and making it shake. She could not expect that on said wardrobe there would be packets and packets of paint and that those would fall down straight on her making her look like some abstractionism painting.

“I hate you all.” She muttered while her brothers run away in four different directions.

“Welcome home, miss Y/N” Alfred approached her with a tissue so she could at least wipe the paint from her eyes.

“Home.” She whispered “Yes, it definitely feels like it.”

It was good to be back.

But she was still going after them. .....

Later. When they would least expect it.

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dellalyra · 10 months

Note

I looked at the prompt list, but i literally COULD NOT decide, but i was thinking, what if Megumi or Tsumiki had a really bad nightmare? How would Gojo and Reader help them? I was thinking baby Megumi, in his sleepy, not being as menacing and just being scared and asking reader for help (cause gojo would bully him)

Also Ily, thank you for your service to society.

A/N: cryin screamin throwin up i can’t this was so sweet to write I think I got a cavity. Having soft sleepy baby Megumi made me so happy to write bc I feel he definitely had his vulnerable tiny little boy moments with these two after he settled in - still a prickly little cactus man most days but occasionally he just needed a cuddle - bc who wouldn’t? Especially if it’s Gojo giving them. Also ily and thank you so much these kind of messages MAKE MY FUCKIN DAY. Keep em coming!!!!!

listen to: luv note - chloe moriondo

la lune - billie marten

A Little Extra Love

Waking up to the sound of obvious nightmares wasn’t unusual for you. You’d been sleeping beside Satoru for a couple of years now, and you’ve shared rooms with Geto and Shoko - the four of you have seen too much shit to sleep unscathed. At least once a month, you’d be sitting with Satoru, still shaking and crying from the lingering feelings of fear and pain stemming from the nightmare - of Riko, of Suguru, of Toji - of losing you. You were no stranger yourself, dreams of bloodied white hair in your lap and vacant blue eyes with a stab wound through his throat plagued you - the image of Suguru holding a young girl's corpse, of the last time you saw Haibara all poisoned your sleep now and again.

So waking at 2am to the sounds of soft whimpers made you immediately turn around to wake your boyfriend from what you expected to be his nightmare - only to find him fast asleep, hair wild across the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as he lay starfished across the bed. There was no relief however in seeing a peaceful Satoru - because that meant it was one of the kids.

They’d been with you for about 9 months now, and it was almost Megumi’s 7th birthday.

You bolted up, trying to stay silent as you creeped out your door and ran down the hallway to the kids rooms - the sound was coming from Megumi’s room so you softly opened the door and came face to face with a sight that broke your heart. Megumi was clutching his frog plush so tight that his small knuckles were white and his face was contorted in fear - whimpers and soft cries coming from his trembling mouth.

Dashing across to his bed, you gently sat on the bed beside him. You knew that waking anyone - let alone a 6 year old - abruptly from a nightmare would only cause more fear, so you began to softly coo his name and stroke his soft black hair away from his face. After about 20 seconds, you placed a hand on his little chest and rubbed soothing circles - causing his eyes to flash open and the frog to be clutched even tighter to his chest as he let out a yelp at whatever woke him, eyes wide and petrified frantically scanning the room before he surprised you by flinging his tiny arms around your neck and clutching you right and crawling his way into your lap.

“You’re okay sweet boy, you’re safe. It was a nasty dream, that’s all.” You coo into his hair, with the softest voice you can muster. You hate seeing him like this, you wish he didn’t have the trauma he did so he could worry about things normal little boys did instead.

He sniffled into your chest, head pressed into your fluffy pyjama top face first. You continue the slow cycles on his back and wrap your arm around his legs to keep his close to you.

“Do you wanna talk about it, baby?” You ask.

He shudders, but nods.

“He c-came to get us, my dad, he came in here and took me and ‘Miki and said w-we had to leave with him to the big Zen’in family and never come home again and h-he said you didn’t w-want us and-” and the sobs took over as you got the gist of the dream and if the ghost of Toji Fushiguro was in front of you right now you’d kill him and send him back to hell again.

“Oh, my sweet boy - that’s never gonna happen. We’re never leaving you or Tsumiki, we always will want you guys - we love you both so much. I promise, no matter how much me and Satoru annoy you guys you can’t get rid of us, ‘Kay? We’re a family now. Your dad isn’t taking you from us, pinky promise.”

‘Because your unofficially adopted father killed him and him and I threatened the Zen’in family so much that they’re too scared to come within a mile of you two!’ Is the bit you leave out.

You also leave out that you and Satoru are looking at legally adopting them - that’s for another, happier time.

He sticks his little pinkie finger out and locks it with yours, sniffling a tiny bit more and rubbing his face (snot and all) onto your koala print top, but you couldn’t care less when you can feel the shaking start to settle.

“We can stay with you guys forever, ‘Miki too? Even though she has no magic stuff like me and you guys because the Zen’in said that she wasn’t worth keeping and -” He asks.

“Megumi - we don’t want you two because of what you can or can’t do - we love you guys as Megumi and Tsumiki, nothing else. Even if neither of you could do any of that stuff, you’re stuck with us, okay? Satoru and I have enough magic to keep us all safe - the whole family, okay?” You hate the Zen’in family for even planting that fear in his little brain.

“I love you too.” He says as his tears dry and you wipe his little face. This is only the second time he’s said it to you both, once was a few weeks ago when you and Satoru put him to sleep and both whispered “love you!” into his softly lit room and he whispered “love you guys too.”

You both sobbed that night - you’re both only 21 - can’t be doing that bad of a job with them if he says it back, can you?

“You’re such a brave boy. If you get more yucky dreams again, you come get me or Satoru, okay?” You plonk a kiss on his spiky hair.

“Just you. Not Satoru.” He looks down, fiddling with your necklace.

“Why not, sweetie?”

“I - don’t want him to know.”

“About the nightmares?”

He nods.

“He - he’s the strongest. I don’t want him to think I’m not brave or strong.” He says, words that shouldn’t even compute that way in his head.

“Absolutely not - baby, who told you that being scared makes you not brave or strong?” You tilt his little head up.

“My dad.”

“Well your dad’s dumb then. You can only be really brave if you’re scared. Being scared and fighting anyway is the bravest thing a person can do, I promise. Think about it this way - who’s the bravest and strongest person you know?” You ask as he giggles at you saying Toji’s dumb (you’ve plenty of other names too for that man.)

“You and Satoru.” He says with such resolve your heart melts, you expected him to say Satoru, so being included felt good.

“Satoru and I both get nightmares too, I had one last week, Satoru a few nights ago. It doesn’t mean you’re not brave or strong - it just means you need a little extra love, that’s all.” You nod at him, and you seem the surprise in his eyes at the revelation that the strongest and bravest people he knows get nightmares too, shattering the words Toji had planted into smithereens. How could nightmares mean you’re not those things if you guys had them? You had to know, because you and Aunty Koko were the smartest people in the world. Maybe Ijichi too.

He’s quiet for a minute.

“So if I have a bad dream - I can come get you or Satoru?” He asks.

“You can get more or him for anything at all, honey, not just bad dreams. We’re always here for you, and nothing will change our minds about how much we love you, or how brave and strong and smart and kind you are - ‘Kay?” He nods into your chest at this.

He settles down, small fingers still fiddling with your pendant.

“C’mon, do you wanna come stay with us in our room tonight?” You say.

He thinks for a second.

Then nods, and yawns.

So you lift him onto your hip, ensuring he has his frog and his water bottle and carry him down the hall into your room. Satoru’s still splayed across the bed like he’s determined to use every single centimetre of his long ass body to claim territory.

You point at the drool on his face and Megumi giggles, hearing Satoru order dessert in his sleep.

You lay him down between you both, and crawl in under the covers as he settles in - the movement stirring Satoru, who’s eyes open and he looks in confusion.

“Princess whatcha doin’ up? S’late. Wait - what you doin’ here kid?” He slurs, lifting himself onto his side to face you both.

Megumi looks at you and you smile, tucking him into the bed with you both.

“‘Gumi had a bad dream, ‘toru - so he’s going to stay with us tonight, a little extra love - yeah?” You say, petting both your boys hair. ‘A little extra love’ was what you had said to Satoru when you found him awake after a nightmare back in first year of high school. He smiled at that, eyes dropping back closed as he ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Bad dream are the worst, aren’t they kiddo? I hate ‘em. If any bad guys come near you I’ll blast them into space, ‘kay? You just shout for me in your dream and let me deal with ‘em.” Satoru mumbles, sleep quickly taking him again, as he shuffles in closer to the middle and you both wrap an arm around the little boy who is snuggling in to return to sleep.

“Promise?” Megumi asks, poking Satoru’s nose.

“Pinky promise.” Satoru replies, lips quirked but eyes shut.

Megumi smiles softly to himself, and hugs his frog and shuts his eyes.

You let out a yawn, eyes closing heavy.

“Goodnight boys, I love you both.”

“Night Y/N. Luh’ you too.” Megumi mumbles, hair splayed almost identically to Satoru’s.

“Night night, Princess. Love ya’ always, you too kiddo.”

No more nightmares that night, just four sleeping soundly in a quiet cottage.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #family formations au #family formations drabbles

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thekitsunesiren · 1 year

Note

mind if I give a dp×dc prompt?

Constantine means to summon the ghost king but instead summons the ghost prince who is currently has a fork hanging out of his mouth.

Damian just wanted to eat lunch with his adoptive father king phantom, in peace.

I just want to put that I love this prompt, and will enjoy writing this so much!

Now, onto the big question: How did Damian become the Ghost Prince of the Infinite Realms in the first place?

And of course, the answer is obviously because of Ra's al Ghul. I could think of it as two ways.

One would be Ra's summoned the Ghost King and offered his son in exchange for immortality. Danny not only denies him, but still takes Damian with him because he's obviously better off anywhere but there.

The other way would be Damian would be forced to watch the summoning as Ra's possibly wanted to show him his ascent into being immortal. Though, when summoning Danny, he just looked around, saw Damian, grabbed him, and disappeared back through the summoning circle while flipping off Ra's al Ghul.

Now, what's the Ghost King supposed to do with the human kid he just kidnapped without a second thought?

Sure, the kids previous living conditions probably wasn't the best. I mean, how would it when the man had an entire pit of rotten ectoplasm? But Danny was pretty much still a kid himself. And he had his kingly duties on top of that. But that doesn't mean he was just going to dump the kid somewhere else and hope for the best.

So what does Danny do? He goes to his sister.

Jazz is conflicted about the whole ordeal. On one hand, it was good for Danny to rescue the child from the possible dangerous situation. On the other, they had a whole child that they didn't know what to do with.

Damian was confused about the entire situation. He was there with his grandfather (whether by force or his own accord depending how he got there) to watch him summon the King of the Dead in order to establish himself as one of the higher beings in this world to rule it. Instead, the King, who turned out to be no more older than him, denied his grandfather upright before grabbing him and vanishing back into the same portal he was summoned from.

Now, he was sitting between the Ghost King and an older teen. Sister, maybe? Either way, he was unsure as to what to do now. He had no idea how far he was away from the hideout of the League. And if the King was as powerful as legends told, he doubted he would make it far if he were to run anywhere before he was caught.

So, Damian believed that the best thing to do in this situation was to try and get onto the Ghost King's good side until he could find what would be the next step. So his next words shocked both him and the woman he was talking with.

"I want to stay with you, Great King of the Dead."

So! Damian decided that staying with the Ghost King, or Phantom, as he preferred to be called at most, would be best. Of course, his request threw the king off guard along with the girl. But it was all he had up his sleeve and he was going to use it.

And now that that was settled, a lot of things followed suite:

Danny, with the gain of a new charge, called in Sam and Tucker for a full on meeting on what to do with the kid along with Jazz.

Of course with Danny officially kidnapping him, he was under Danny's care. The Ghost King's care. That was basically signing some sort of second death wish.

With all of his friends and family being alive, they decide the best place for him to leave was in his castle in the Ghost Zone. There was plenty of room there! And he was sure that it would be safe. Maybe. Hopefully. You know what? He'll probably have to do a quick check before he officially brought to the castle.

That being said, he would also have to warn those who stayed in the castle the arrival of his....guest? Kidnappee? Ward? A kid that he took from the environment that was not safe for him!

Surprisingly, the ghosts were excited about the development. So excited, in fact, that when he returned to the castle with Damian in turn, there was already talk about the Ghost King's heir was already going around of all the realms. That was fine though. If the word spread around fast enough, hopefully that that meant he would be easily protected against any possible attacks.

Danny introduces to some of those he can. A few members of his Rogue Gallery who he gotten closer to over the time, Ellie ("It's big sister Ellie, now! I can't believe you just kidnapped a kid like that!")

Others were introduced to him as well. Especially Frost Bite and Fright Knight. Both of which were interested in meeting his sudden charge. (But with the way he saw the kid eyeing Fright Knight's sword, it's best their unsupervised interactions were kept to a minimum.)

And seeing that he was a kid himself, it was going to be weird raising one that's probably not much younger than him. Clockwork sure did get a kick out of it though.

Here is a list of possible outcomes that come from Danny and his friends & family raising Damian:

He doesn't grow up to be as stiff and cold as before. With Danny and the others around (especially Jazz's "Aunt Jazz, Damian," Aunt Jazz's mandatory sessions about his life with the League of Assassin's) his formality is more royalty like instead of an assassin waiting to strike. Though, there is a bit still there.

Training. As being accepted as the ward and possible heir of the Ghost King, it meant that that Damian would have protection and would have to learn the ways of the Infinite Realms. Both its politics and ways of combat. That was fine, Damian was sure he could handle it. He was raised by the League of Assassins after all. But he was wrong...so wrong. His first training session showed how he fared as a human against a ghost. But he wasn't deterred and continued fighting. (It was alright in the end, because he got his own ghost sword. Of course, it didn't send the opponent into a realm of neverending nightmares, but it was still good. Danny was sure he heard Damian cackle madly when the sword was presented to him.)

Bonding time with Danny and his friends. He would most likely learn about Danny about how he became Phantom and King of the Infinite Realms, as well as a bit of his friends and family that was with him the entire time.

Even if he is Danny's ward, that doesn't mean that he keeps him in the Infinite Realms the entire time. He often took Damian out to various spots that he deemed alright for some bonding between the two to get to know each other a bit more personally.

He would even allow Damian some time alone in the human realm if he wanted it. Of course, he would only leave him for about an hour or two before picking him up again. During that time he would simply work on some kingly duties he couldn't do with Damian around.

Overtime, Damian would become more liminal than most due to all the exposure in the realms. Of course he wasn't a full on ghost, but the most he could do was float, fly and even turn invisible. But even that would take a lot out of him for too long.

After a while, Damian would be referred as "Little Prince" or "Prince of the Infinite Realms".

All. The. Animals. With all of the ecto-based animals along with the blob ghosts, he would be in absolute heaven.

Now, I want to bring something else up to this prompt: How would Bruce react?

Depending on how Danny kidnapped adopted Damian, there are two ways that Bruce could find out.

Bruce gains word from Talia after a League of Assassins member finds her and tells her of the passing of Ra's al Ghul and the kidnapping of his grandson. Both of which happened by the hands of the Ghost King.

Words gets out that Ra's failed to get the Ghost King under his control to grant his wish of immortality and that the Ghost King took his grandson as well.

Either way would be how Bruce managed to have a biological son that he was unaware of. Which could also lead to him digging into anything he could find about the King of the Infinite Realms, even seeking JL Dark for any information. Of course, their information isn't up to date and he think that Damian has been kidnapped by the cruel Ghost King Pariah Dark instead of Danny Phantom: The King who can't say no to a kid with a sword bigger than his own body.

So yes. This whole ordeal would just be chaos from beginning to end.

#ghost king danny #dp #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp crossover #dcxdp #Kitsune Kounters

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mrsparrasblog · 1 month

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I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

#johnny #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soapghost #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #hurtful #tw death

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nelkcats · 1 year

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Austen's little boy

When a new ghost is formed within the Infinite Realms, they unconsciously locates themselves near relatives or people who can take good care of them.

Because the ghost babies are very delicate, and depending on their age they can be in serious danger depending on their caretaker, the Realms itself often change the location in which they will appear.

If it's a rare case where the new ghost has their entire family present, they will line up near the member who can take best care of them; if the family was abusive or unable to teach them about their new status correctly, the Realms place them near people they admired during their lifetime, or ghosts who are alone and can teach them.

That's the reason after Jason Todd died and began to form in the Realms, he ended up forming within the haunt of Jane Austen, who saw not only a new ghost, but a new ghost child, one of the most fragile types of ghosts, he was hurt and in tears. This broke her heart.

She didn't reveal her identity at first, saying she was just Jane, and it took Jason a while to trust on her, but in the end he ended up being adopted by the kind woman who loved reading as much as he did. Although he sometimes was curious where he had heard her before.

Sadly, they were both separated when Jason was revived; one day Austen's little boy disappeared from her haunt, and although she wasn't quite sure what had happened, she thought that perhaps he had decided to rest in peace. Something that was quickly refuted when rumors spread about her son returning to the world of the living.

Austen decided to take the risk and went through one of the natural portals, she traveled to "Gotham" and there was her baby, she didn't really care about the Red Hood part, she was more concerned about his safety.

Though it was sad to discover that due to his corrupted ectoplasm his little core had been damaged, and Jason was unable to see her. However, that did not affect her decision and she decided to stay by his side, taking care of him the best she could.

When Danny started flirting with Jason in one of Gotham's bars he was greatly surprised when an angry ghost started berating him about using better flirt lines. And how he should be more romantic than that.

That's how he found out that Jason apparently had a Ghost Parent, which after discovering that the halfa could see her, asked for his help to talk to her son again, and yes, Danny might have to stay in Gotham for a while.

That corrupted ectoplasm case looks serious, and maybe he'll even get a date by the end of the problem.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd #red hood #Austen is Jason ghost mother #He just don't remember her #but she followed him to the human word after hearing some rumors of his kid alive #she was sad when he suddenly disappeared #thought he passed completely #but no #her baby is alive #she is not sharing custody with Bruce #Danny is going to help Jason with the corrupted ectoplasm #it's going to be a sweet reunion #and after that Austen will give the ghost boy a shovel talk #because obviously he has a crush with her boy #danny fenton #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #Just Jason having his adoptive author as adoptive parent #Jane didn't tell him she was Austen at first tho #she wanted a real relationship first #without the celebrity admiration #she trusted Jason #but is better prevent that regret #Danny was happy with the result and asked Jason for a date after all that #Jason just laughed and accepted #while Austen judged him in the background #Also Austen is not as powerful as other ghosts so she can't make herself more present that she already is and Gotham curses don't help her

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blingblong55 · 1 year

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Vienna- 141

This is based on a request.

Angst, death of a character, (spoiler it's you, lol), suicide, MDNI

Slow down you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then if you're so smart tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Backstory:

It was you, the one who always had everyone's backs. But who had yours? It was you, the same one who would get cleaning duties because you took the blame for everyone. The team couldn't sleep? oh, there you go at 4 am, 4 hours of sleep and making coffee and tea for your team. One time, a mission went wrong. Evac would happen with or without you five. So, you gave yourself up so the team could make it to evacuation. They held you for 15 hours before you ran off and back to base. Now, the question is, did your precious boys mind it? no, they swore you were already on base, no need for a search. To this day you have nightmares about that day. You cry, and make it known you are going through some form of PTSD. Not once have they mentioned getting you help.

Soap was sick one time, real sick. So as you naturally did, you made soup for him and prepared him for a nice time. And stayed up all night, despite having other duties in the morning. This was your life. And yes, maybe they didn't reciprocate their love or affection, but who could blame them. You were so young. In their eyes, you were just trying to fit in, trying too hard and for them, it just wasn't going to happen. But that was who you were. A natural giver and lover. That was until this past mission.

Too bad, but it's the life you lead You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need Though you can see when you're wrong You know you can't always see when you're right

--------

Things to a turn for the worse. Your own mind messing with you. And you finally did it. Like any coward, you killed yourself. It was fast and sudden. But soon you had met your Vienna.

It was a rookie that found you. Lying on the floor with the gun in your hand. They called Price. He naturally thought it was a prank from Soap. So he stayed in his office until his men were on the other side of the door. "Sir, they...they really did it" Ghost spoke up. Some regret and shame on his voice.

Turns out, you didn't have any family but them. That's why you showed them all of your unconditional love. At the bar, the four men told stories about you. "R/n once told me about some place, and said they wanted to visit it. It was their dream." Gaz said a sad smile on him as a drink warmed up in his hands.

"Vienna." Soap and Ghost were mentioned at the same time. It was true. You always wanted to go there. It brought comfort and you always gushed about it.

---------

You got your passion, you got your pride But don't you know that only fools are satisfied? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true (Oooh) When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

There you were, hiding from the enemy with Ghost and Soap, Gaz on comms. "I want to go somewhere after this place.." you mentioned. "Where?" Ghost asked, somewhat annoyed you disturb the silence. "Vienna, I think it's beautiful. It seems kind and clean. I love it!" you smiled, just thinking of what the place must be like. The men stared at each other and discarded the small talk.

There was something, you know? It was peace, heaven, it was home for you. You ran from Austria as a kid because of your dad. And never returned once, it was the story you never told anyone. Because no one stopped and listened.

--------

It was just 2 days before your funeral. The men woke up, no coffee or tea set for them. Price didn't have the newspaper and a cigar by his keyboard that morning. Gaz woke up to no hash browns. Ghost was surprised there wasn't any chamomile, or earl grey on his mug. It was a strange feeling when Soap realised it was you who finished his papers, the same ones Price would make him turn in at the end of the day for rookie reports. Everything was silent. The telly is off, no morning show or new magazines by the coffee table.

It was so...empty. It wasn't comfortable or warm. You did all those things for them. You made sure that at least 10 minutes before they woke up, you would heat the common room so they wouldn't get too cold. One time you wiped all the tables and floors and made sure the telly was on the morning show so Ghost and Gaz could stay updated on their local news back at home. You walked in and they watched, telling stories about local bars the spokesperson would mention. So you kept doing it, every morning.

What was so strange was that they had depended on you for little things. Price opened the fridge, and to his surprise, the little lunch bags someone had made were not there. All the men swore it was a fan of them who did all these things, that maybe because they made all the rookies train yesterday, their biggest fan couldn't do their tea, or little lunch. But no, that was all you. You just never mentioned it to anyone.

All those little things were your love letters to them. The warm food, the warm mornings. The feeling of home and safety. That was all you. They had become unspoken words of adoration, devotion and love.

They all sat there. Soap regretted laughing at you. He hated how every time they all made fun of how you were, you'd shut down for a while. Your eyes were teary and your lip quivering. He cried thinking of all the stupid times they all belittled you.

Slow down you crazy child Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two (oooh) When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

-----------

You were having a bad day, it was usual, especially on the job. The team noticed how you were singing a song, it was so childish to them so they made fun of you for it. For you, it held such a deeper meaning. It brought you to the old you. The 6-year-old you, your parents holding your hands as you splashed around puddles. Your dad singing you that song over and over. How he had reached down and kissed your nose. Held you near his chest as he and your mum sang the song for you.

"Oh poor baby, go cry to mummy and daddy yeah?"

the men laughed. "Toughen up soldier."

"Probably has a whole bed filled with teddies," Soap said.

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

Soap would regret all his words. Hated how his last talk with you he pushed you away. "Not fucking now, Jesus, stop being so annoying!" You just nod and walk away. He didn't know but he was the last one who saw you alive that evening. Ghost hated how he always pushed you around like his personal punching bag at times. Price hated the times he yelled at you, how you looked at him with such teary eyes. He was the first man to yell horrible things at you. Gaz hated how every time you ate alone, he would pass by you and eat with other people. How you still were so kind to him despite his actions. The ghost of a smile on you as you two stared at each other before he told the soldiers a joke about you.

Oh, how they wished they showed you how much you meant to them. If only they had just 5 more minutes with you. How much they wished to have you for your birthday. Fuck, they didn't even mind remembering it. One look at your file and there it was. Your birthday and death date are all the same, just decades apart. They hated it. How much they had treated you like shit on your day. How soap never told you how much he appreciated you. Ghost and his stories, Gaz and his wild adventures. And price, oh price, how he wished you could've stayed longer.

They knew you reached it. You made your dreams come true. Vienna couldn't wait any longer. By this time tomorrow, you were back in Vienna, buried with your mum and dad. How the sky was probably blue, as their hero returned to their forever home. You would never grow up. No more dreams, no more a lover to hold. Just you in a coffin, away from the last people you loved like a family.

And you know that when the truth is told That you can get what you want or you can just get old You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through (oooh) Why don't you realize, Vienna waits for you?

A/n: so...I hope it was angsty enough for ya! Also, I know this is probably not the song that had ya all inspired, so for that sorry

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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suugarbabe · 6 months

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[Chapter 3]

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

You grasped at the object your arm was slung around, expecting the warmth and hardness of Mattheo’s chest. Instead you grasped onto the silk of a pillowcase. Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your mind trying to organize your thoughts and figure out if last night really happened or not.

Laying your head on the pillow in your grasp, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Mattheo. The mix of sandalwood and amber mixed with fire whiskey and smoke flooded your senses. You tried to remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off into your first peaceful sleep in months, but all you could remember was the light ghosting of his fingertips on your skin.

You sat up in bed, taking in the room around you again. Beyond his scent on your pillow, there was no trace of Mattheo in your room whatsoever. Climbing down from the bed you walked over to your barren closet, choosing something simple for the day before you decided to explore the manor. Grabbing your tea from Gimball from the nightstand, you slid your feet into your slippers and headed towards the door. You’d have to ask Gimball for his tea recipe, it was perfect.

Stepping in to the hall you take notice of how much more elegant the hall looks with the sunlight peeking in. You stared at the double doors next to yours, wondering if Mattheo was inside, wondering what time he left you alone in your bed. Did he wait until you were just asleep? Did he stay there and hold you for hours before finally retreating to his own room, or did he leave in the morning just before you woke? Your hand hovered above the door knob, contemplating the risks and rewards of trying to enter Mattheo’s room.

“He’s not here,” Pansy’s voice cut through your internal thoughts, making you whip around and grab your mug with both hands. “Oh, erm, yeah, that’s fine. I was just, ehm, where is he, do you know?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, walking towards you with her arms crossed, “He and Enzo left pretty early this morning on…business.” You sipped your tea, responding with a short hum, “Mattheo said you would give me a tour of the manor today?”

Pansy nodded, turning towards the stairs, “Yes, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so do try and keep up.” She started quickly down the stairs, you hustling behind her. Pansy led you down the stair case and through a set of double doors, “This is the kitchen, I don’t really know why you’d need to come down here as Gimball will bring you anything and everything you need with just a simple call and ask.” You nodded, setting your mug in the sink as you passed by.

Passing through the same doors Pansy turned down a new hall, similarly looking to the one upstairs with all of the bedrooms, “Down this hall is the security room, if you’re ever looking for Blaise or Theo they’ll likely be holed up in here doing work. This door is Draco’s office, don’t go in there unless you want a fight,” Pansy eyed you over her shoulder, “which you might want, but just be careful. Remember he’s on the team for a reason, not just because he and Mattheo are family.”

Pansy stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall, “These doors-” You cut her off, finishing her sentence, “lead to Mattheo’s office. The man really loves french doors, doesn’t he?” Pansy shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say, the man loves a grand entrance.” You laughed, easily agreeing with the statement.

You were led further to the outside of the house, presented with a larger in ground pool the size of a tennis court. Beyond the pool Pansy showed you the vineyard, thanks to Theo’s family, and the large and expansive garden. She led you to the front entrance of the garden, telling you of all the different flowers and plants that were growing inside, “We basically have the garden enchanted like a greenhouse, allowing us access to essentially any ingredients we would need for any potion we would need. Would you believe me if I told you the one we make the most are healing concoctions.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, “Surprisingly yes, I do believe that.” You walked side by side back towards the manor, you gnawing at your lip deciding if you should ask the question that was beating at your brain. You couldn’t see it but Pansy was smirking, “Ask your question, I can tell you’re dying to.” You let out a huff, “Am I that easy to read? Mattheo certainly won’t like that.”

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure he likes you just fine.” You opened your mouth to protest when she cut you off, “Question, Birdie, what was it?” You frowned slightly, “Everyone just going to call me Birdie now instead of my real name? You know what, whatever. Right, so this morning you said Mattheo and Enzo left on business.” Pansy nodded, confirming she was on track with you so far, “I was just wondering…what exactly is the business. Unless they’re doing club business early in the morning.”

The smirk on Pansy’s face was telling, but you weren’t exactly sure what it was telling you. “You’re a smart witch, I’m sure you’ve gathered that there’s more than just the club when it comes to business with these boys.” You nodded, following Pansy back into the manner and towards the foyer. “Grab my arm, Birdie.” You did as told, then were instantly transported to what looked like a muggle artillery room.

“Wha-Where are we?” Pansy simply smirked, walking towards the glass door in front of you, “Believe it or not were right below the foyer. Only way to get here is through apparition and only the six of us- well I guess seven now - have the ability to do so. Theo looks daft but he’s actually fantastic as protection spells.”

Reaching her hand as far as it would go, then dragging her finger all the way down the glass. As she did so, you noticed a series of different light charges shift within the door frame before hearing a clicking sound, signifying an unlocking. “This,” Pansy opened the door, signaling for you to follow her, “is your first glimpse into the business.”

You marveled at the room around you, never seeing muggle weapons in person. They were shinier than you expected, in an array of grays, silvers and blacks. You were surprised at all the different shapes and sizes they seemed to come in, confused further why a band of wizards would see a purpose in them. “Muggle weapons are the business? That doesn’t make any sense, Pans.”

The black haired girl simply shook her head, “Weapons are the way in to the bigger picture, Birdie.” You walked up to a wall fingers dancing over what looked like a long black gun with an attached barrel to the end, “Which is what?” Pansy walked up behind you, “Power. Mattheo is building an empire, love. Not just in the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. If there’s ever another war, he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes that his father did.”

The last sentence gave you the little bit of detail to connect the dots that you needed to better understand Mattheo and his ways, his demeanor. You felt stupid for not making the connection earlier, but you blamed Mattheo and his charm for distracting you from thinking clearly. “Mattheo is Voldemort’s son,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Pansy nodded, “I wouldn’t bring it up, though. He’s got quite a distaste for his father. But you can’t blame him. Not after how he grew up, everything he had to deal with.”

You turned to Pansy, “How does no one know that Voldemort had a son?” Pansy held out her arm, you took it without hesitation. In a whirl you were back in the foyer, following Pansy to the sitting room watching as she collapsed on one of the couches by the fireplace. You gave her an incredulous look. She huffed, sitting up straighter and rolling her eyes, “If you sit, Birdie, I’ll tell you, but not everything. That’s for Mattheo to do. If he wants to.”

You sat on the couch across from her, not being able to help but sink into the plush cushions and relaxing slightly. Pansy let out a long sigh before starting, “Mattheo hides his past very well, better than you even and you seem like almost an expert at it. Mattheo didn’t attend school with the rest of us, his mother choosing to homeschool him, teaching him what she thought was important and what he would need to be a real leader. Guess she was right about that part.”

“How are he and Draco related? I know that the Malfoy’s were loyal death eaters but I didn’t think they were related to the Dark Lord himself.” Pansy shook her head, “You’re right there, they’re not related through him. Their mother’s are sisters, Draco’s actually almost a year older than Mattheo but you couldn’t tell by how timid and scared he acts around him.” You both laughed at this, even in the few days you had been around the group you recognize everyone cowering away from Mattheo if his voice was raised even slightly.

A popping sound signaled the arrival of someone near the foyer. “Must be the boys,” Pansy stood from the sofa, you following quickly behind her. You gasped at the sight before you. Mattheo’s white dress shirt was ripped like someone has pressed him against a shredder, cuts and new bruising evident behind the tears. He had blood splattered across his cheek, though it did not seem to be of his own. His knuckles were dripping, from what you were sure was a mix of his own blood and whoever he had seemed to beat.

Enzo was leaning most of his weight on his slightly shorter friend, eyes fluttering between awareness and close to losing consciousness. His arm that was not slung over Mattheo’s shoulders was pressed against his side where he was bleeding…badly. The gash in his side did not seem to be from anything muggle or an object, but from magic as you could see the black rim of the edges of his skin. “What the fuck happened?” You voice was the first to break the silence beyond Enzo’s moaning.

“Pansy grab the others, and some healing potions,” Matteo barked the order out like he’d said it a hundred times, which at his calmness of this situation made you think he had. You quickly conjured a table and helped Mattheo place Enzo on it. You looked over Enzo completely, seeing a few more cuts on his legs, the gash on his stomach, going up further he had a few defensive wounds on his forearms and a couple of cuts on his face.

When your face was level with Enzo’s eyesight, he smiled slightly, “Well, hey there, Angel.” You ran your thumb along his cheek bone, “Hey, Enzie. I’m gonna fix you up, but it’s gonna hurt. Try not to move, and try not to be mad at me after, okay?” Enzo did his best to nod before his eyes fluttered closed again. You grabbed your wand from your pocket, knowing where you’d have to start first when Mattheo seized your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help now if you would just let…go of me,” Mattheo’s grip only tightened as you tried to pull away. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Princess? You don’t even know what happened or what he was hit with. Pansy’s getting the healing potions, I don’t need you fucking up my best defense.”

You scoffed at his skepticism, “Well by the discoloration around his wound I can tell you he was hit with dark magic. And those healing potions, I looked at them today when Pansy gave me my little grand tour, it’ll take your best defense a week to heal with those, while if you would just let me get to work he’ll be mostly healed by the morning. Now, if you excuse me,” you yanked your wrist again, harder this time. You know the only reason you were able to was because Mattheo let go, but you got straight to work anyway.

Placing your wand between your teeth briefly you used both hands to rip Enzo’s shirt open, fully exposing the depths of what you were dealing with. The open wound went diagonally from his right hip to almost the center of his abdomen. You waved your wand over the length of his body, mending all of the small cuts quickly. Mattheo watched as you worked, standing across from you in a worried stance, one hand over his mouth while his elbow rested on the arm over his chest.

Pansy and the others came barreling down the hall, several different healing potions in hand, “What does she think she’s doing?” Malfoy shouted, your previous impression still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Leave her, cousin, we’re going to see how truly valuable she is to us.” Mattheo’s instruction left everyone standing, watching as you worked.

You mumbled an incantation under your breath, beginning to pull the darkness from around the edges of Enzo’s wound. But the pain was too much for him, his eyes shooting open and back immediately arching off the table, “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” Your frown deepened, “I know, Enz, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to stay still.” He shook his head, “C-can’t…can’t do it, hurts t-to much, Angel.”

You looked at Mattheo, eyes pleading. He understood what you were thinking immediately, turning towards the others, eyebrows raised. You turned back towards Enzo, leaning close to his face, “The boys are gonna help, okay? They’re gonna hold you down. I need to get it out of you before you can heal properly, okay, Enz? It’s gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay still. Just try, the boys will help.”

You made eye contact with Mattheo, nodding. He glanced over at the rest of the boys, who each grabbed hold of a limb on Enzo. “I’m so sorry, Enz,” you whispered before hovering your hands over the gash. “Just do it Angel, m’bout to pass out, I can feel it.” You nodded, circling your wand and mumbling the same incantation from before. Your twirled the tip of your wand, pulling up slowly as what looked like shimmering black liquid began to lift from Enzo’s wound.

“What the fuck is that…” Theo gasped as he watched as the string got thicker and longer. When the tail end of the black liquid flicked out you grabbed hold of it with your free hand, holding your wand high above your head to keep as much distance between Enzo and the liquid as you could. “Pansy, a vial, please,” you looked over at her. Pansy stood frozen, eyes stuck on the struggling presence in your hand. “PANSY!” Mattheo’s booming voice snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

Pansy rushed to your side, empty vial in hand as you guided the contents of your wand and palm inside. As she clogged the top Theo tried to get someone to pay attention to him again, “Is no one going to tell me what that fucking thing was that she just pulled out of Enzo? Was that his fucking soul?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “You’re a fucking moron, Nott, you know that?” You elbowed Blaise in the side, causing a low grain to emit from the man, “It was dark magic. It gets attached to you when you’re hit with certain spells. It makes it harder for you to heal and is extremely difficult to remove. But once you do you can usually heal the person like normal.”

You held your wand hand over Enzo’s abdomen again, mumbling another healing spell and watching as ribbons of white began connecting the opposite edges of his wound. “Do you have any gauze?” You looked up at Mattheo. He flipped his hand around, summoning a first aid kid and digging around until he found what you had asked for. You wrapped the gauze around Enzo’s middle, the rest of the boys helping lift him in order to wrap it all the way around and secure it properly.

When you were finished, you let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the night, but he should be basically back to his old self by morning, maybe a little sore but nothing like if he’d only taken the potion. You could probably give him that as well, help with the pain.” You looked over at Blaise and Theo, “You can take him to his room, just dont push on his side. Have Gimball give him something to drink in an hour, I’d watch him for the next three just to make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

The two boys nodded, hauling Enzo up under his shoulders and walking up the stairs. You shoved your wand back in your pocket with intentions of heading back toward the sitting room when you felt a strong grip on your arm. You turned to see Mattheo, expression unreadable. Before you could protest he was dragging you down the hall, “Mattheo, what the fuck? Let go!” Mattheo said nothing in response and he dragged you further down the hall until you were standing in front of his office doors.

He mumbled reverse protection spells before opening the doors and throwing you inside. You luckily had the wherewithal to catch yourself on his large desk before turning around to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You were practically screaming in his face yet he stood stoic. Except for his eyes. When you looked into his eyes they were darker than you’d ever seen them, like you were staring into an abyss and you were about to be sucked in. You wanted to challenge him, push him into showing you some emotion. You took a step closer, your chest nearly flush to his while you shoved a finger against one of his pecs, “Are you gonna answer me, boss?”

“Are you finished?” Mattheo peered down at you. You scowled at him, taking a step back and leaning against his desk, crossing your arms, “For now.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “I knew you were going to be difficult but I didn’t expect you to be a brat.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He grabbed hold of your chin, fingers squeezing your face, “Just like that. You gonna tell me how you pulled that little stunt in the foyer just now? How you managed to pull that shite from Berkshire?”

You pushed his hand from your face, “My mother taught me. I never had to use it growing up. But after the war I got more practice.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the mention of his father’s previous doings. “He’s going to be fine, you know,” your voice was soft, assuming Mattheo was worried about Enzo. Mattheo shook his head, “I know,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I just can’t believe how much I underestimated how useful you would be to us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?” Mattheo opened his eyes, a low laugh emitting from his throat, “Oh, Princess.” He reached out, cupping your cheek, “I knew you were special that first time you walked into my office. I know Pansy told you what we do, what I’m working towards.” You nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching yours, “Then you know it can get dangerous, hell today was a perfect example.”

“Mattheo I still don’t unders-” Mattheo pressed his thumb to your lips, “You’re mine now, Princess.” Your heart was thundering in your chest, it felt like he had a hold of it and was squeezing. You were sure he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting against your ear as he whispered, “And you’re never going to leave.”

#protego series #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!mattheo riddle #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle x you

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juvenillia · 6 months

Text

~ tangled series ~ part 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

summary: Simon needs some distraction after Johnny is away on a mission for a longer time. So he finds him a casual ons, but just like his partner before he found something different and things become even more complicated.

a/n: Welcome back to part 2 of the tangled series. This time I got a bit carried away but I hope you like it. So yeah still porn with plot, but this time more plot.

cw/tw: suggestive content, pure smut , bi!Soap, bi!Ghost, Ghoap, flirting, petnames, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, drinking, open relationship/situationship, catcalling,

worcount: 5.5k

》Masterlist《》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

Everything turned out to be easier with Johnny at his side. Sure, as hell, that missions became somehow more strained. Simon always wanted to protect all his teammates, no matter the fact that he knew fairly well that every one of the 141 were extremely capable of their tasks. Still, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing even one of them. And as soon as Johnny and him reached an agreement on their relationship terms, Simon became more restless considering the thought of getting the Scot injured. Everyone he ever let get close to him had to follow the sad fate of dying sooner than expected. Always too soon. Maybe that was the reason that Ghost didn’t accept on a serious relationship with him. Maybe that’s why they sorted things out and agreed on a kind of ‘friends with benefits situationship’, with no strings attached. Even if they were more attached than both actually saw.

That’s also the reason he wasn’t feeling alright. He felt more anxious, more at edge lately. Usually, he would drop by that specific Scot to keep his demons at bay. Simon could simply search out for his presence to make himself feel better, but since Soap needed to head out three weeks ago, there was simply no possibility to do so. The radio silence only exacerbated the tension and his nightmares. He couldn’t stay relaxed on leave when he didn’t know how his not-boyfriend was doing right now. What if Simon could change something about the situation? No, Price wanted him to rest after the last operation that took way longer than it was planned.

Maybe all that lead him to this situation. He was seated at a bar he frequented a lot of times when on leave. It wasn’t too far away from the base, just in case. He booked a hotel nearby because drinking and driving is irresponsible. And just like this he spent the nights in the ‘Downunder’. A pub that was run by Steven. Steven was a bit older than him, the owner, and bartender. He did know a lot about good whisky’s, always had a joke at hand, and most important he granted Simon his peace. He could sit there the whole night, listening to talks from strangers, sometimes some good live music, and just sit in silence. Sure, he got approached by some woman and dudes, mostly asking him about the mask, the black skull balaclava he always wore. But most of the times it was calm, and he could drown his thoughts with alcohol, and the best about it, nobody knew him here. Sure, there were some regulars that remembered his mask, but they went after their business and left the Brit alone. Nobody knew his name, or what he was doing for a living.

It was a usual Saturday when he found himself in these familiar surroundings. His glance was on the screen of his phone as he sat at the bar. Pinned on the little last seen status from Johnny that still told him a date about three weeks ago. A deep sigh left his throat. “Tough night?” an unfamiliar voice dragged his attention up. It wasn’t the usual bearded man greeting him behind the bar, it was a younger woman wearing a gentle smile, just polishing a whisky glass. His brows furrowed at the sight, what earned him a quite chuckle from you. “Stevie had a family emergency, so he asked me to fill in for tonight.” You simply placed the glass in front of him. Simon only nodded, somehow annoyed for need to get used to a new person, especially while he was in such an unsettled mood right now. “So, Dalmore Port or Craigellachie?” You placed your palm flat on the wooden counter, next to the still empty glass.

Simon tilted his head slightly and his brows arched even more. “Dalmore Port,” he answered stern, as you turned on your heel with a sweet hum to pull out the bottle and pour him a good glass of the desired drink.

“Not quite the chatter, huh?” you said while shoving the glass over in front of him, your soft smile never leaving your features.

He pulled his mask up only the slightest to reveal the perfect shaped jawline covered in a subtle stubble. Only high enough that the glass could meet his lips, as he shook his head no. “What a shame. Usually, people that sit at the bar are up to talks. But that’s your loss then,” you chimed teasingly throwing him a wink, as you turned your attention to another customer approaching the bar. Simon watched your every movement and something about you got him hooked. The way you talked so melodic, the way you gracefully moved along the bar to prepare the desired drinks. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that Steven wasn’t here. Maybe you were a fresh breeze of distraction for his mind.

From time to time, you tried to start an easy chat with him, but he only shortcut the answers. Somehow distant, still not so fond of the getting to know you part. Still, your features never even faltered a bit, like a natural beam of sunshine. Simon started to ask himself, how a fragile, soft, and pretty figure like you could work in such a place. Stevie entrusted you with the place he called his second child, but what would happen if things escalated? You wouldn’t be able to handle a bar fight, so Simon made sure to spend the whole night here. Just in case, and definitely not for any other reason than that. He knew better than that. Did he though?

That way it was already about one in the morning when the band packed up and left the bar and most of the customers left with them. Only a biker squad at one of the larger tables, something that looked like a bachelor party of some businessmen at another table and some random lonely dudes were left. Simon was one of them. That’s when the bachelor party demanded a larger order for shots and beers and asked if you’d bring them over. The pure nature you were you agreed on it. Nothing unusual to be honest. So, you grabbed a tablet and placed everything on it and made your way over the table. It was the very first time Simon were able to get a concrete look at your whole statue. A pair of black skinny jeans paired with a tight turtleneck that left nothing to the imagination. The little apron wrapped around your waist hugged your curves perfectly fine, as you swayed your hips naturally while walking over the table. Eventually Simon drowned his drink at the sight, before quickly adjusting his mask again.

As you crossed the table from the biker squad, one of the bulky tattooed men whistled after you. It made Simon’s jaw clench, but you just turned gracefully around, not spilling even a drop of liquor in the turn. “I know you like what you see, no need to remind me, Marcus,” you chimed while turning back to your actual direction. Simon’s jaw was still locked. You bend down to the table from the already quite drunken bachelor party and placed the glasses around for each member, before straightening up again. “There you go.” You still wore that same sweet smile.

Just as you turned once more to head back to the bar as one of those men took grip of your wrist. “Why don’t cha stay here, sweetheart.” One of them whined while pulling you back. Tension built in the back of Simon’s muscles, as he watched the scene. Preparing himself to step in.

A sigh left your throat as you tried to keep the happy face up. “Feeling honored, but I still have other customers to serve,” you stated soft. Not moving an inch.

“Nah, they can rot. Stay here.” He pulled you closer that you needed to bend over again, being on eyelevel with the drunken man.

That was the moment when Simon stood up from his place. Eyes glaring at the situation in front of him. But before he stepped in, he noticed the sudden change in your voice. “Sit,” you ordered with such a stoic voice that the man in front of you loosen the grip around your wrist and you straightened your back once more. Such an unexpected tone for your sunshine nature. Simon didn’t know if your order was aimed at him, but he also didn’t realize that the guy from earlier, Marcus was his name, also stood up. Who now slowly sat down again. Simon still stood there, not averting his gaze from you. Your posture was different to before, tense but not frightened. “Listen hun…” Your arms folded over your chest. “I don’t care who you think you are, but you’re nothing more than a cockroach here. If you get on my nerves, you’ll be escorted and not in the way you’d like to.” Your voice was so cold. The man in front of you only gulped. A mischievous grin growing on your lips, your hand slowly moved alongside your curves. “Besides, that’s nothing you could ever afford,” you remarked with more cockiness laying in your tone, before heading back to the bar again.

Simon sat back at his place before you returned. “Impressive…” he stated as he still watched every move you made. It earned him a soft chuckle, as you once more winked at him.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” With that statement he felt his cheeks burn. He was really glad that his mask was neatly in place, but still, he couldn’t suppress a low laugh escaping his throat. You reminded him so much of something he missed too much. Just a bit softer, a bit more elegant but as much of a tease and flirt as the Scot.

The rest of the night went on without any more incidents. All customers left the bar sometime after, and that’s how Simon found himself in the cold and dark night in front of the pub. It took you about forty-five minutes to close and clean up. During those forty-five minutes he could’ve walked away, he could’ve simply decided to leave. And still he found himself leaned against a streetlamp, as he decided to insist to walk you home. Making sure you’d arrive save at home. It was an urge he couldn’t fight. He ignited a fag and waited those minutes until he recognized your figure. A smile crept on your face as you took notice of him.

You slowly approached him. “No Mrs. waiting for you?” you asked jokingly while closing your jacket.

“Nah.” That’s the first time he gave some information about him away. His mouth was quicker than his mind. Your intoxicating smile made it hard for him to contain himself, the alcohol rushing through his veins did the rest. His answer made your smile grew.

“I see.” You reached out to steal the fag from his grip to take a drag yourself. The smile never leaving your features as you could feel his intense glance onto you. Eventually you could witness a low growl escaping his throat before he shook his mind clear.

“So, what’s the plan mysterious stranger?” You teased while exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “You gonna drag me to an alley and kill me?” You passed the cigarette back to him and the corner of his lips tugged up.

“Thought ‘f walking ya home, to prevent that exact incident.” He took another drag of the cigarette and could feel a slight burn in his abdomen as he tasted your sweet lip balm on the cigarette.

“A true gentleman, huh?” You grinned “Or a serial killer.”

“Up to ya to find out.” Now it was his time to tease, and it only ignited something within you.

“Good then that I don’t actual live here.” You winked at him as you started to walk into the direction of your temporally home. Simon trailed close behind.

You walked in completely silence, somehow you were too tense to speak right now. He indeed made you nervous now. It wasn’t like you never brought someone over after a long shift or hooked up with someone in a bar. It wasn’t that regular, only guys that somehow really caught your attention. What didn’t happen so often. But this masked man had something on him, that pulled you under his spell. Something you didn’t feel so often. Rounding a few corners before your stood in front of a not so cozy motel. He insisted to guide you up to your door, and you didn’t argue. How could you when his eyes already burned themselves into your brain.

That way you found yourself in front of the door to your room. “Thanks. Mind to tell me your name, that I can show my gratitude?” You smiled while facing him. Looking in those deep dark orbs his eyes were. He didn’t answer, instead he placed his index finger and thumb under your chin to tilt it up only the slightest. His eyes never leaving yours. The breath got caught into your throat while your lips slightly parted.

Usually he would pull back, call it a night, and give in to his demons. But not tonight. Tonight, he found a soul that could distract him as much as only Johnny could. And he needed that. It was selfish, it was something he didn’t like to do. But what could possibly go wrong? Nothing? Johnny himself did hook up with a girl at some time in their relationship – no situationship. They were okay with it, so why shouldn’t Simon for once have something good for himself.

He stepped forward, invading your personal space while leaning in. His glance still pinned onto yours. “No names,” he breathed out, while his free hand pulled at the hem of his mask. Once more only the slightest to reveal his lips. His eyes checking onto your glance, only to look for hint of hesitation.

“That comes at a price.” Your lips were formed into a smile as you closed the gap. He didn’t care about a price to pay, right now he only wanted this, he wanted you. His grip on your chin tightened as his other hand found your back to pull you closer to deepen the kiss. The sensation in his guts literally burning himself as he tasted your lips, while he already felt his pants tighten. It wasn’t a rough, sloppy kiss, but so passionate. It left you breathless as you parted to open the door. You walked backwards, eyes never leaving the intense glance from the behemoth of a man in front of you. He kicked the door shut as he followed you in.

Both of you removed your jackets as it turned too hot in here anyways. And in an instant, he was back on you. His calloused hands gripping on your waist while you clung around his neck. Slightly slipping under the mask to feel some strains of his hair, while your kisses turned more heated. Until you caught his lower lips between your teeth, and he let out a deep groan that sent shivers down your spine. Back was the grin full of mischief on your lips.

“Mask stays on, I suppose,” you teased while pulling away from him. Slowly walking over to the bed and pulling your turtleneck over your head to reveal your upper body, left only in an all-black laced bra.

“Affirmative,” he stated trailing behind you. A slight giggle run over your lips as you sat on the bed. Reaching out to him to pull him on top of you as you laid down. He followed your lead without hesitation. He was huge, you could feel the bulge in his trousers brushed over your sensitive spot as he leaned down to let his tongue slip into your mouth. You let out a moan at his demanding movements as his hands roamed down your body. His beefy hands felt so rough against your soft skin, and still it was a feeling you somehow missed a lot. He couldn’t help himself but started to grind his hips against your clothed crotch. “’m gonna take ma time with ya.” His hot breath brushed over your skin as he leaned down to place open mouthed kisses along your neck. Your hands found his brawn shoulders as your nails dig in.

Another deep moan escaped your throat as he suddenly stopped. You looked with lust blown pupils and a raised pair brow at him. His lips curled up in a cocky smile. He pulled his hoodie over his head, without disturbing the mask, which stayed magically neatly in place. Just to reveal a tight compression shirt, that clung to his toned body just perfectly. Revealing a tattoo sleeve at one arm and some scars across his skin. One of his hands cupped your breast, when you could hear his deep voice once more. “Ya know the traffic light system.” His hands squeezed your breast as the other took grip of your hip. You nodded eagerly. “Use ya words, luv,” he teased with his thumb along your waistband.

“Green keep going. Yellow break. Red stop.”, Your breath hitched in the back of your lungs as you felt your body filling with anticipation.

“Good gurl,” he praised, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked over his lips at the sight.

As he fumbled with your trousers to free you, you got a good sight of his hardened member that would await you later. You raised your hips to make it easier for him to took them off, and instant of lowering them again, he pressed your legs up, placing his mouth onto your panties. It earned him another sweet moan. He was way too turned on from the way you reacted to him as he held your legs in place.

“So wet f’ me already.” He pulled your panties aside to let his tongue run through your folds, while one of his fingers circled around your hole.

“Fuck,” you cried out and he once more stopped.

He placed another finger next to your hole, let them get soaked with your liquid. “Color, luv,” he said with such an endearing and at the same time demanding tone, it made your hips thrust.

“Green.” You quickly answered to finally feel the needed friction. And without hesitation he pushed inside while his mouth started to suck at your clit. It made your back arch. It was ridiculous how fast a familiar burn built up in your stomach. The combination of his sucking and his fingers pushing and curling inside you already brought you so close.

Your hands wandering down to grip onto his hair, but you only found the fabric of his mask. “Nuhuh. Be a good gurl f’ me.” It made you moan out as he stopped his movement again. Edging you when you were already out of breath. From the grin he wore you assumed he know fairly well what he did to you. You nodded, as your hands trailed to the sides of you gripping on the sheets. “Better,” he said while he placed his mouth onto you again. “Taste so bloody fuckin’ delicious,” he moaned against your clit while he added another of his beefy fingers to your insides. He could feel how your whole body trembled and how your walls started to clench around his digits. “Cum f’ me, luv.” he groaned while the pace of his digits picked up. And just as he demanded you did, without hesitation. His fingers slowed down as he guided you through your first orgasm. “Gonna be a long bloody night,” he said while sitting back, sucking his fingers clean from your cum. Letting your legs down as you caught your breath.

The now free hand stroked over his clothed cock, that already started twitching at the delicate sight in front of him. You sit carefully up to face him properly. A smile planted on your face. A smile full of mischief. “I hope so,” you stated while moving to sit on your knees. Fumbling with his belt. He instantly pulled you into a deep kiss again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His mask was soaked in your liquids as much as your panties. A little souvenir you’d grant him. Something he was already grateful for, because he literal could grow addicted to your scent, to your taste. Something he wouldn’t let happen, but right now it was alright. Right now, in the heat of the moment he let it happen and enjoyed it.

Kneeling before him on the mattress you reached out to free his cock, distracted from the dizzying kisses he continued to assault you with. When he finally sprang free you leant down to take him in your mouth, only to startle as he laid down, tugging you with him. His strong arms maneuvering you to sit backwards on his face, letting you brace your hands against his abdomen as he mouthed at your cunt. Licking the drops of pre up from his glossy tip made the behemoth of a man moan deeply beneath you. He instantly started to eat you out once more as you carefully placed your lips around his length. Taking in as much as your throat granted you. Gagging a few times, what only made his member twitch and his mouth groan against your sensitive spot. It didn’t take long until you started to grind yourself over his mouth.

His hands firmly placed onto your ass, squeezing it all so often while one of his fingers circled around the hole that wasn’t occupied by his mouth. He only pulled away for a second when you already spoke up. “Green, god damn.”Before taking his dick back into your throat. Your reaction made him laugh, before he returned to his task. Completely ruining his face with your cum. It was the second time when he pushed you over the edge so effortlessly, it made tears build up in the corner of your eyes from pure pleasure. You needed more; you needed him.

You turned around to place you above his dripping cock, but before you could lower yourself, he switched places with you. Manhandling you like you weighted nothing, and he was between your legs on top of you. “ ‘m not finished with ya.,” he growled while his mouth found yours again. Wiggling his trousers completely of him when his length brushed over your folds.

“Need that. Please,” you whined as the desperate demand in you grew higher. The deep chuckle could be heard once more.

“Such a needy pretty thing.” He let his hard cock once more slide over your cunt. “Ya think ya ready to take me.” One of his hands stroke over your hair, that was slightly dump from the sweat.

You nodded, before you remembered what he wanted to hear. “Green,” you said with a smile. And he looked down at you. His eyes filled with so much lust but at the same time there was adoration hidden behind the darkness of his pupils.

He placed a soft kiss onto your forehead. “That’s ma gurl,” he praised while his teeth locked around your earlobe. He slowly pushed the tip inside and immediately could feel your back arch. He kept him steady on top of you, not lowering himself completely. “Gonna ruin ya f’ any other man out there,” he committed as he pushed deeper and deeper. You whined out at his thickness. “Hush. Ya can take it. I know it.” His soft tone with the lustful deep voice sent you into an addictive haze.

It took him some time to button out, and as soon as you adjusted and gave him another green light he started with an unforgettable pace. “That’s it, luv.” His hands were still on your head, keeping you to face him while he thrusted inside you until you started to see stars. You felt so god damn full and good. The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin smacking against each other combined with his sweet praises. You didn’t know how long it took till you felt his thrusts grew sloppy; you didn’t know how many more orgasms he pulled out of you until then. But the moment came, and you could feel how his body started to give in. Clinging onto yours for the sake of his own life.

That’s when you started to trace lazy circled around his neck. “Just let go,” you said softly with the rest of energy your body held. “Cum inside of me, darling.” Your voice pushing him closer, as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Arms slung around you, holding you steady as his thrusts grew slower, but deeper than before. Pushing the spongy spot inside of you. Completely overstimulated you didn’t know if you could just come another time, but it didn’t matter to you. “I wanna feel it.” You assured him one more time, before he completely let go and painted your walls with his cum. Your head falling further back into the pillow as you felt his release.

He collapsed onto you, while your hands stroked over his sweaty body. He needed to pull out, still he couldn’t bring himself to. It was too comfortable, too warm. He could still feel your walls clenching around him. Your voice was the only thing that made him pull back. “Yellow, darling. I think I can’t take anymore.” Your words were filled with so much endearment. It let his stomach turn as he started to clean you and himself up. Not caring about anything, before collapsing onto bed once more.

His head laying onto your bare chest, while his hand took grip around your waist. ”Ya did so good f’ me, luv”. You placed a kiss onto the sweaty fabric of his balaclava.

“Thank you, mysterious stranger.” You giggled when he couldn’t suppress a small laugh. Why did it feel so good and familiar? It was what scared him a bit, but as soon as darkness washed over his sight, he couldn’t care about it anymore. After three weeks he finally found some peace and rest again. Laying here in your arms, where no nightmare could bring him any harm. He was safe.

Simon wasn’t used to one night stands, well not to those ones where he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Usually, he would stay awake till his hook up fell asleep to sneak out of the apartment. But with you? He couldn’t leave. So just like that he woke up the next morning, or better said late afternoon. He couldn’t remember when he slept this long, apart from the time the both of you went to sleep anyway. The scent of freshly brewed coffee woke him up. You stood into the little kitchenette, only a fresh pair of panties and an oversized hoodie.

“Good mornin’ darling,” you chimed while bringing a coffee over to him. As he took the mug, he realized how fucked up this whole situation was. What was if that lead to something wrong? Something he couldn’t provide you with. Something that he swore to Johnny he couldn’t agree on. You could literally see the turns in his head, and just placed another kiss on the stained mask. “Don’t worry. This can stay a casual fling between two strangers,” you cooed with a soft giggle, and he nodded.

Still, when he arrived at his hotel later that day, his head hurt as much as his heart ached. Not because of the alcohol, nor because of the guilt he slept with you. It was of the fact that something in him wanted it to be more. Just like Simon wanted it to be more with Johnny than just a casual fling. But he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t corrupt you into the mess his life was. And he wouldn’t break Johnny’s heart. With you it was easier. He would always hold tight to that night in his memory. Especially when he didn’t have so many memories to think back in happiness. But he hadn’t to face you again, he didn’t even know your name. He could easily return to his life. With this mental note he spent the last few days of his leave alone in a hotel room with the sheer memory of your breathtaking smile and that intoxicating scent, and how good this one would mix with the scent of his beloved Scot.

It was now about two months ago when things settled again. Johnny came back together with their Captain, and everything was alright. Simon’s mind could finally calm down. Even if his dreams often sent him back to that night with you. But right now, there were more important things to do. Price got back with an injury that didn’t allow him to get back to work. So, Ghost had to fill in his position for some time. Nothing he wasn’t used to. But what he wasn’t used to is when this time passed the four-week mark and the three members of the 141 started to worry about their Captain. So, Kyle reached out to him to ask about his status and was somehow surprised when John did invite the three men over for a dinner at his home. Just to catch up about the important things and plan a bit ahead.

That’s how Simon pulled the car into a driveway of a cozy looking home. The drive to their Captain home was filled with heavy assumptions from Kyle and Johnny how he would live, if there would be kids running around and stuff like that. But they had lost all their assumptions as soon as the door opened and they saw a weak looking John, a cast around his left arm and a loop to hold it steady in place. “Come on in boys,” he said while guiding them into a warm living room which also served as dining room. Everyone took a place at the table and soon the three were kind of confused, because the table was prepared for five people, not only for the four of them.

“Is Kate coming?” Kyle asked with a teasing tone, as he took the chair at the head of the table. Simon and Johnny sat down next to each other at the window side, while John sat next to an empty chair, who only shook his head no.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he sighed a bit tense.

Simon pulled out some papers and maps as they chatted a bit about some reports and the last operations until they heard a door open another time. John tilted his head into the direction of the sound. “Need a helping a hand, sunshine?”

“One doesn’t quite do the job.” A muffled female voice echoed through the hallway.

“I have six more to lend now,” he said jokingly as the steps grew louder. The anticipation within the boys only growing. But the image in front of them let their blood run cold. Never had they expected the sight of you walking over to the dining table with your usual sweet smile. Simon could feel a rope lacing around his throat as he was unable to breath. Kyle blinked in utter confusion as you bend over John's shoulder and greeted the men in front of you.

“You’re a bad host John. Not even offering them drinks?” You punched his healthy shoulder playfully. Johnny could’ve sworn he needed to throw up. He never thought he would be able to see you again. The chances were so low, and he was sure if the fates were in his favor, he would be thrilled about it, but now he was only nauseous. Your glance wandered over the table and sigh left your throat. “John…” You straightened, and he mirrored your concerned filled face. “You promised me, no work tonight.”

“Yeah, sunny, you’re right.” The smile growing back on your face as your glance trailed over the boys. “We put it away, right boys?”, the be said men only nodded tense as you winked at them.

“So, three whiskeys, I suppose?” You ruffled through John’s short hair teasingly. Before turning back to the head of the table. “And a beer?” A mischievous smile on your lips before you turned on your heel to get said drinks.

The boys only stared after you, mouths slightly agape. “Stop it.” John had to clear his throat to drag them back into the here and now. Kyle and Johnny only exchanged some quick glances, as Simon sat there in completely silence, his glance still pinned onto you from the corner of his eyes. Nobody thought that things got to be this tangled, but right now, they eventually started to regret a few things, because you were right. Things always had a price.

taglist: open just leave a comment

@cooliofango @ghostslillady @anothersimpsblog

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley smut #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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evilminji · 7 months

Text

I contemplate the Martian Afterlife...

And the reality, that as a Father? The only thing more painful then losing his family for J'onn. Would be to have hope... and lose them again.

To get back, perhaps, ONE child of his several. To see them forever trapped as they were and know they were alone all this time. That he will one day be forced to choose. Stay with them... or see the love of his life again. His other children. Be at peace.

Worst of all? Is they would never ask such a cruel thing of him. Are proud of him. Love him. Are gleeful at this reuniting. They have made friends, papa! Won't you introduce them to YOURS?

Standing at the gates of Death itself? Looking into the swirling green...

It's losing those you've lost all over again. Uncertainty. Fear. A quite sort of horror. What if they ARE there? What if they are NOT? They never wanted this. Are seperated from their Gods and their Peace. Are they happy? Do they suffer?

....are they there?

Grief is a heavy thing. Mortal. It weighs like mountains on our shoulders. What is worse, we wonder? What will be worse? As ghost after ghost steps out to find loved ones. Not to stay, though.

They can not stay. The Dead must move on. Too strong, too REAL and unfiltered by flesh, to exsist in this breakable Reality. But these ones at least, can look back and wave. Can visit.

Is it worse when they can't?

When to find them, you'd have to do like the stories of old? And visit Death themself? Reach deeper then Depths and farther then any horizon, to the pulsing Core of all that ever Lived. Not "lives".

But past tense. As in once did or should have, could have, might have. Lived. And now does not.

Larger then any planet, smaller then a pin prick, every color imaginable and utterly void of anything on any visible spectrum. THEY exsist there. And everywhere, but that's besides the point, now isn't it?

There at the Core, things are sorted. Resorted. A human dying on Zoltan soil does not belong to Zoltan gods. Nor vice-versa. And vows must be taken into account. Families kept together, be they choice or blood. Ghosts who convert in Death may come to be sorted again just as those who lose faith may leave for another place.

It flows. It is balanced.

Held, eternal, in they loving hands of A God of God's. The Final King. To whom all bow.

Is it better? Knowing those you love WOULD come? If not for Death? As you stand, small and mortal, looking up and up and UP into incomprehensible eyes. That know you and always have. That will claim you soul with gentle hands and hold no malice in their grand, alien, heart. That ARE as they always have been.

This is simply doing their duty, keeping order and balance. Organizing the universe to keep things clean.

Is it better?

The glowing child that lead you here, looks at you with such sympathy. A child king. You all but forced him too. Were full of such grief and anger. But it is like cursing the birds. A storm. Grass holds you no malice. Fire burns you because it is fire. And this great and terrible creature, this true Awe inspiring God of Gods... is Death.

Death simply IS.

They would not stop you walk past them. Entering their domain. But you would not be allowed to leave it. The stories were just that. Stories and myth. You can SEE your loved ones from where you stand. Almost HEAR their voices.

They are horrified. Waving their arms and shouting. Clearly begging you to turn back. To LIVE. Don't you DARE.

Others have joined them, at the gates. Too every sort of place. The two of you noticed. Aliens and humans alike. Shock and horror. Concern. Go back! Go back!

The souls on the paths between audibly trying to get Deaths attention. To distract away from you. While others try to shoo you away. You... you have no place here. Do you? Not yet. Possibly not ever, if you become a ghost. You worry about that.

The boy king laughs. Bright and ringing in the green. We can change our minds! Well, THEY can. He's kind of king. So he kind of has to stay around, you know? But Death is Infinite and so are the Realms. There are a LOT of afterlives. Even a few After-Afterlives! He's heard there might be a THIRD layer to one or two, but who can say?

You ponder the Martian afterlife. The little Martian ghost you saw. Was she stuck... or simply waiting? To go together. It's a good thought. Better then the bleak and terrible horrors your mind has conjured lately, in its grief. You don't want to know. Let it be a suprise. They wanted you to wait. So you'll wait. As long as human biology will let you.

But first... you probably should look up apology gift baskets. "Sorry about the grief rampage, I kinda snapped" doesn't seem like a... CARD sorta thing.....

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tw death

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aemondsbeloved · 1 year

Text

The Lady Strong

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x strong!reader

summary: your father's death left two ghosts that haunt you in the shape of Rhaenyra's bastard children, but you have more ghosts to tend to and justice for wrongs unknown to you cannot go ignored for long. When Aemond has to decide between justice for the only one who could have his heart or to continue to betray his elder sister, the choice is easy. He chooses you. (4.5k)

warnings: canon violence, reader is an OC because she is a strong and is described as bearing resemblance to Jace and Luke

“Why must you go?”

This is what you asked your father that late afternoon in your solar those many years ago. A young girl of no more than ten, he had sat you down and kneeled in front of the chair. “It is for the best,” he had told you after struggling to find the words. “Harrenhal is our family’s seat and I will be the Lord of Harrenhal one day. And one day, it will be yours.”

“But I cannot come with you?” your eyes searched his for an answer. All you saw in his amber eyes was regret.

“Once I am settled I will come for you. Your uncle will stay here in the meantime, but your grandsire will return to you.” He kissed your forehead before he rose, affectionately placing a gloved hand on your head briefly. The touch is fleeting and full a warmth. It is a touch you will try to remember for years.

Those words never came true. Your father did not return to you and neither did your grandsire. The King’s Hand and your grandsire Lord Lyonel Strong along with your father, Ser Harwin Strong had died in an accidental fire in Harrenhal.

People always did whisper that Harrenhal was haunted. You could only try to stop thinking of their charred bodies in the aftermath of the fires.

The loneliness had been fiercer than the grief after the death of your family and there was nothing that could be said by Septas to quell your anger. It was only in your fury that you could forget your dead father and grandsire.

Days after the deaths it seemed the stranger was visiting another. There was nothing that could keep you from Driftmark and Lady Laena’s funeral, even your imprudent refusal to your uncle.

“Why should I care about her?” you had demanded when your uncle told you this. “I have a greater loss to mourn. My mother is already dead. Now my father and my grandsire join her. You are the only one left of my family, why should I care of someone else dying?”

Your voice had trembled towards the end, sounding like angry and more uncertain. “We must go,” your uncle said softly. “Do not worry. I will not die, have no fear.” The words sounded placating at the time.

Despite the stares at Driftmark you had not noticed Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son looking at you by your uncle’s side. Neither had your uncle who was smiling proudly at the Queen, though that day you would not notice such a thing. Moving in front of the flames the brown haired prince was there and a silver haired one you knew as Prince Aemond.

Jacaerys left immediately but Prince Aemond glanced at you. “I am sorry for your loss, my lady.”

His words sounded peculiar, especially as he called you a lady. It was all so formal and you were children. But still, no one had truly sounded sorry for you these past few days. “Thank you, my prince,” you said in a small voice as you warmed your hands in front of the fire.

A long pause passed between you both. Quietly, though determined to meet his eyes, you told him your name.

“I know,” he replied and smiled half heartedly. “I am Aemond.”

“I know,” you repeated but this time it was easier to smile.

Despite the turn of the night at Driftmark and the changes that had occurred, as well as the truth of your father’s deeds finding your ears, the friendship that had begun there did not fade. The only constant throughout the years to follow was the silence and peace you only found around Aemond.

Eight Years Later

“Lady Strong,” a voice behind you greets. As you turn around from where you stood near the staircase to the royal family’s apartments, you are met with a hair of brown hair and dark amber eyes that are familiar, though the one who has them now is a stranger.

“Prince Jacaerys,” you greet politely with a nod. Your voice is constrained, perhaps due to the knowledge of who he is and who you were. Perhaps it is the bad blood with Aemond. “I did not know your family was visiting the Capitol.”

“Her Grace Queen Alicent bid my mother to relocate to the Red Keep as King Viserys health worsens. It would be best for our family to be together when time for the coronation comes. There is a pact being agreed for peace as they speak I am told.”

You nod in understanding, but you do not know why he is telling you this information because it is not something a prince tells a lady of a minor house. Perhaps it is because he knows the truth, but unlike you does not ignore it.

“I was hoping to speak to you.” It is the hand he holds in front of himself between you and the nervous yet determined gleam in his eyes that made you understand his meaning.

“That is what we are presently doing,” you tell him dryly and seeking some distance, you turn your body away from him.

His eyes were bright like a Targaryens but gleamed amber like your fathers. He looked much like your father. Once that would have swayed you to his side in foolish childish disputes had you known the truth.

Before Driftmark and your attachment to his uncle. Aemond might be cold, ruthless and cruel to some but he had also been maimed without consequences as a child. Now Jacaerys eyes so like your fathers only made you think of the righteous air about him and his brother.

“I thought we might speak freely about my father—”

You could not let this go on. “Many speak highly of Ser Laenor,” you cut him off, not daring to look at him as you tell the same lie many had done for years.

Jacaerys stiffens when you do glance his way. A strange, faraway part of you pities him for a moment. “Your father and mine suffered poor fates,” you went on, thinking of the tales of Ser Laenor’s death and the charring of the flesh in his father’s hall. How your father’s death was more or less the same. “The burden of carrying our father’s fates is a heavy one. Best to prepare to wear it well.”

You smile at him in an attempt to reassure to and perhaps silently warn him not to approach you again to speak of what he wished. To admit he is a bastard would ruin more than his life as yours was held by a thread. He is not Aemond, so the smile you give him feels mechanical. Jacaerys seems to understand the message all the same and nods in a rough gesture, though we he lifts his head his eyes are tender.

So like your father he looked in that moment you were sure your father might have looked just like Jacaerys at this age.

You walk up the staircase to the Queen’s chambers. Being summoned to her is an occasional occurrence and one you do not begrudge. She is fair and kind despite what people like Daemon Targaryen would have others believe. Her trust for your uncle has seemed to grow into trust for you too.

Most days you would find Aemond but you knew he was in the courtyard training with Ser Criston. You would take the Queen’s company instead.

Larys is not in the Queen’s chamber as he usually is in the evenings. On this morning it is only Queen Alicent and though a pleased smile is directed towards her upon walking in, it drops slightly when you see her grim face.

“Princess Rhaenyra has just been to see me,” she admitted to you. Following her gesture to sit at her table, you slowly lower yourself into the chair. For years the Queen had made it known how much she dislikes the Princess, but since Driftmark and the decline of the King’s health and Rhaenyra’s move to Dragonstone, there was a longing made unavoidable since Rhaenyra had announced she would return. Few knew it was the Queen who asked her to. “She fears there will be resistance when she claims her father’s crown.”

The long look the Queen gives you is not missed. In private you had never denied who the father of Rhaenyra’s sons were. “No one would resist the rightful heir.”

This is not the answer to the Queen’s silent question and she regards you wearily. You think this must be about the loss of station for herself and her children when Rhaenyra comes into power. There is nothing else there could be bothering her.

“No,” she smiles at you in reassurance. You see through the facade quickly but say nothing. “You are right, of course, my dear.”

That afternoon Aemond was a ghost. Where you had once always been relied upon to find him, he was nowhere. Not in the training yard and not in the library. You felt your will to see him slipping away, resigning to letting him come to you when he wished to, until you hear a roar that could only be from one dragon.

Rushing to his rooms, you forgot what it was to be a lady and have some sense of propriety. He does not come for a lifetime as you pace the room. The books near the fireplace are familiar to you as are the weapons he has hanging on his walls.

“What are you doing here?” Aemond asks in his doorway, quickly shutting the door before his guard saw you here. You might look frenzied from your pacing and worry but Aemond is something stranger, surprised.

Still in his black riding leathers and hair swept messy from the skies, he take a few steps toward you. He opens his mouth to say something but you wouldn’t know what it is nor do you noticed the hardened look of a man who knows a horrible truth in his lilac eye.

“Something is wrong, Aemond. I can feel it,” you whisper harshly, taking a step near him. “Your mother looked grim this morning when I saw her. All because of Rhaenyra and her sons, no doubt.”

You are growing more angry towards your father’s bastards by the minute as the day went on and for no reason at all. If anything you should hate your father or maybe hate your friend for leaving the Keep for the day without telling you, but instead you hate Jacaerys Velaryon and are sure every problem is his doing.

“My sister sent me on a mission for the crown,” Aemond admits. Your pacing stops and you look at him, something between anger and confusion.

Much had happened that you could not understand. The slip of Aemond calling Rhaenyra his sister, something he had always refused, did not escape you.

He takes another step toward you, more cautious as he guages your reaction. “Viserys is not long for the world. It is important that no one usurps the rightful heir.”

Your eyes feel like they could be bulging at that. His hands are crossed behind his back and it is almost easy to ignore the wariness and knowledge in his expression.

“My uncle has been assisting in making sure Aegon would be King one day.” This is a truth you had not been blind to but not involved in. Your love for Rhaenyra was nonexistent and you trusted your uncle, what more was there than that?

Aemond jerked his head down in a quick nod. “Rhaenyra will be Queen and my family will have a high standing, heir to the throne or not.”

“So you cleave to her for a higher standing, for power?” you ask him harshly, looking like your father then and there with the way your pride is ruling you.

“We know Aegon would be a poor king,” Aemond insisted, for the first time showing a hint of emotion as he pleaded with you.

“This has never bothered you before. You will have my father’s bastard sit a throne after everything he has done?”

You do not know if you are fighting for the wrongs done to Aemond or to your own pride and the proof of who your father loved. Pride was a festering wound eating you whole as it once did to Aemond, except now he seemed to see something else.

“Jacaerys is not a monster.” These words seem to cost Aemond everything, making you wonder what caused his change of heart. In your heart you know Aemond is right but feeling frustrated at everything, you turn away and want to flee the scene.

The hand on your wrist that pulls you back to him is unexpected. “Let go,” you say in a choked breath, not wanting to look at him as the tears fall. “You can do as you please and support Rhaenyra, what I say will mean nothing.”

He is persistent, gently tugging your wrist until you turn your head and look at him with tired eyes. “I would not help her without cause,” he points out and pulls your body nearer to his. Another time this would have felt romantic as you both towed the line of friendship or something more, but with your tears and the secrecy you are simply exhausted. “You know that.”

You do. Aemond had never liked his sister and hated his nephews. Maybe it was because he had lost much at their hands, maybe it was because his closest friend had been resigned to watching her father’s bastards walk around the Keep, Ser Harwin’s ghost never leaving his daughter. Aemond does nothing without reason even amidst your anger.

“There was a whisper passing through the lands of Harrenhal that the fire that killed your grandsire and father was no accident,” Aemond tells you, watching your reaction with careful eyes and his hand refusing to leave your wrist. “Someone started it. Rhaenyra sent me to find out who.”

You feel a wave of sickness overtake your body and for once, you feel like one of the maidens in the stories and think you might faint. Aemond holds you by your upper arms. “The news is grim, my lady.”

Again you are a girl and he is a boy, and the titles feel strange and formal for ones so close friends. “Why would anyone kill my grandsire and father?” you ask in disbelief, shaking in his grip from the shock. “My grandsire was a good hand to your father, respected by all. My father had left the Red Keep, he was not a threat to any Targaryen.”

He sees where your mind is going and stops it by cutting it out root and stem. “There was no Targaryen who is responsible. Rhaenyra is the last one who would have done it.”

“Then who?” you are desperate, hanging onto his arms now as you search his face. No longer do you flee his touch and are desperate for it.

“Larys Strong,” he tells you the news in a soft voice, the blow is twice as hard as it knocks the air form your lungs.

“Liar,” you accuse as you grow rigid in his grip, wanting to claw through his very skin. “This is a lie. An illogical one. My uncle–”

“Stole your position,” he interrupts you. “By all rights you should be the heir of Harrenhal but he took that from you. Your father wanted it to be yours.”

You shut your eyes tightly as a heavy breath moves past your lips. Looking at Aemond again, you steel yourself. “My uncle loved his family. He would not kill his father and brother.”

“And yet he did kill his father and brother.”

“Why?” you demand, now glaring at him, or maybe the truth he has learned. You were comfortable in your misery before he spoke it. “My father loved him. He would never do this to us.”

Aemond’s eye roves your features. From the tremble of your lips to the agony in your eyes, he will not look away. “He betrayed you still.”

Protests continue to pass your lips, determined to cling onto pretty lies but Aemond does not move and slowly, you come to terms with the reality. Your uncle, the one who had been there for you when you got the news and comforted you, had betrayed you.

“Why?” you beg Aemond again, body beginning to fall into his as he holds your limp body to yours.

“Power and position,” he tells you, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your sides.

His words only make you cry louder but he still holds you. “He will pay for this, my love,” he swears as your cries quiet. Neither of you are bold enough to determine what his last words mean for you. You only have energy enough to be in his arms.

“Can I stay?” you ask him. Your voice is a quiet in a way that makes it sound like a ghost of yours.

“Always,” he answers immediately.

That night you sleep in Aemond’s arms and knowing a line is being crossed, neither of you speak of it. Tonight was a night of rest, justice would have to wait for the sun to rise.

In the morning your eyes are not open yet when you feel Aemond’s arms wrapped around your middle. At some point in the night he must have reached for you, or you reached for him. Whisps of his pale hair rest on your shoulder and tickle your face. If it were anyone else you feel out of comfort and push them away, but it is Aemond, so you pretend to be asleep to live in your fantasy.

If the world were different, it would be expected for him to hold you in your sleep and there would be nothing wrong about sleeping in his rooms. In a fantasy that stayed in your mind, he might be your husband, but he was not. Your uncle had frequently alluded to the match that was bond to happen, one between you and Aemond. It had not been for your happiness, just another trick to get himself closer to power Queen Alicent yielded.

“How will it happen?” you whisper, knowing he was awake.

Aemond breathes over your shoulder and rest his chin on your shoulder. “In the throne room, before he expects the severity of his fate.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and do not feel pity as you think of Larys’ fate.

Aemond’s fingers leave a featherlight touch to your sides as you leave his bed. His bed, you think, half mourning your fantasy and the other half of you giddy for this moment you had even in your devastation. Before you leave the room, you turn to him. There is a smile on your lips as you regard him and though it is one of someone who has lost everything, you smile all the same.

“I will be by your side,” he promises and because he has never lied to you, you believe him.

It could have been minutes or hours until you were in the throne room, but you found yourself there all the same. A dress of the pale blue found on your house’s coat of arms drapes across your figure. Not for the first time in your life, you feel every part of the Lady Strong. But there is a change, one you do not realize until you alone walk down the steps into the throne room.

Everyone is there— the Queen, the Hand, Princess Rhaenyra in her father’s place, beside her is your father’s bastards. Rhaenyra’s new consort, Prince Daemon is there. As is your uncle, but he sees the change in you too and for the first time, Larys Strong appears perplexed.

You do not stand next to Aemond, though even in a room full of other people of the court, you are drawn to him. He is a Targaryen as he stands next to his brother and sister, but you are a Strong. You must stand alone.

When Queen Alicent moves forward closer to Rhaenyra than she had ever been, they almost look like allies despite the polarizing green and black dresses they both wore as Alicent faces the court.

“It is the responsibility of the Protector of the Realm to insure that the lines of succession in every house across the realm are just. In the absence of King Viserys, his true heir Princess Rhaenyra will be the hand of justice today.”

Your uncle looks at you for a long moment, but your eyes do not leave the Queen’s. When the Queen steps back to stand near her children and father, and Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne you are sure your uncle is quivering. When you glance at him you are sure that his grip on his cane is stronger than ever before.

“Lord Larys,” Rhaenyra says cooly. “You are accused of treason. You are deemed guilty of starting the fire in Harrenhal that killed Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong, and corrupting the line of succession of House Strong by usurping your niece. You are accused of colluding to usurp me in favor of Prince Aegon.”

He flounders but only for a moment and when Larys recovers, the performance is convincing if you forget that this man had lied to you for half your life. “This is slander, Princess. You have been lied to. I loved my father and brother as I love my niece.” He smiles and perhaps it is charming once, but now you can only look at him and chant liar, liar, liar in your mind. “And as far a colluding to usurp you,” he laughs, lightly making a joke of justice as he turns to you. “Niece, tell the Princess how she has been lied to.”

“I think not,” you say as though you were musing, a poet finding his words instead of calling your uncle a traitor to the court.

He laughs without humor and shakes his head at you. “What is this?” he asks with a chill that would surely travel up your spine if the whole court was not witnessing this, if Aemond were not here. “You believe these lies?”

You say nothing, knowing when your restraint would weaken and he is testing every bit of it.

“How do you plead, Lord Larys?” Rhaenyra demands.

“Not guilty,” he proclaims with an edge to his voice. “Of course I am not guilty.”

The bite of ugliness in his voice does nothing to put off Rhaenyra. Somewhere deep within you, there is a ghost that whispers she would make a fine queen. Even now, your father haunts you by whispering the truth in unwanted moments.

“Queen Alicent has told me the truth of how you killed your own father so that her own would be reinstated the Hand, a favor she did not ask you and one that you thought might give you more power. I see your niece’s rightful title you stole from her did not sate your lust for power.”

All eyes on him, your uncle directs his rage at Alicent. “You lie for her now?” he spits the words, no respect for Princess Rhaenyra and the power she wields now.

“There is no lie,” Alicent says cooly without a care for his rage. “You frequently spoke of how the Princess Rhaenyra would not sit the Iron Throne because there were many who supported Aegon’s claim. In many of our private audiences your niece heard these words being said.”

“Niece,” Larys pleads and this is the first time he has ever sounded like a beggar when he turns to you. “Tell them this is slander. You know in your heart these lies mean to set House Strong apart.”

“I cannot say that which is not true,” you tell him lowly, your hatred for him coming in the shape of a frown pinched on your lips. Looking to Rhaenyra, you decided to put your loathing for her aside for a moment. “My uncle often spoke of Aegon’s claim and how one day it was he who would be King. His intentions were clear, the treason from him is no slander.”

There is a flicker of appreciation in Rhaenyra’s purple eyes as she regards you before she turns her sight to Lord Larys. “You see, you are already guilty of the highest treason of colluding against the crown. You will die, Lord Larys. Do you wish to meet the stranger without speaking the truth?”

You were sure he would not budge. What was the truth to a man like him? He had lied to you for an age.

“Your father was never meant to die,” he turns to you, and the grip on his cane is desperate as he looks to you.

“And yet you killed him,” you meet his gaze unflinching. “You stole my inheritance and had my grandsire and father killed all for your own greed.”

He cannot fight the truth now, not when the sentence has already been given. “You have been a daughter to me. I would never had—”

“And yet, you did betray me and our house. I do not want whatever affection you think recompenses this.”

There is something ugly that creeps up his face. He is a man without anything to lose. “You think your father’s bastards could be your family?”

In the silence, the sound of steel being drawn is heard and out of the corner of your eye, you are sure Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys grimace at the insult.

“You took my family from me. I have nothing that you have not already taken from me, Uncle.”

“For years you had hated him for what he did,” Larys reminds you. “The sons he gave to a woman that was not your late mother, the ghosts that haunt you for their likeness to him.”

That is true enough. “For years I have been lied to.” And that is all that matters.

He says nothing, spatting at the floor in Rhaenyra’s direction. His lies are all that matter, you remind yourself.

“So be it,” he concedes. “Short may your reign be, whore.” You do not know if it is the Princess he speaks of or yourself as the new Lady of Harrenhall.

Nothing else matters when the blade wielded by Daemon cuts off his head, the blood and remains of your uncle on the floor now. Nearly the last of House Strong on the floor of the throne room. You are all that remains now.

In the chaos of it all you do not look at Larys anymore. Across the room your eyes find Aemond. His pale lilac eye is already on your face. Something tells you that all will be well now, so long as Aemond is there with you.

“It was Ser Harwin’s wish that his daughter would succeed him,” you hear Rhaenyra vaguely over the buzzing in your ears. Still, you do not look away from Aemond. You cannot bear it. “To the Lady Strong, the rightful heir of Harrenhall.”

Your eyes meet Rhaenyra’s and if it were any day except this one, you would think she had another motive to give you your inheritance back. But there is something in her eyes that makes you change your mind. Maybe your father haunts her too. Maybe her sons are the ghosts of Harwin Strong to her as well.

You wonder if you haunt her sons as well.

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