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luxaofhesperides · 1 month

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I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler

And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you

“Oh, shoot!”

Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.

Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.

“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”

“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”

Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”

And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall.

Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.

Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”

Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging.

“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend, I guess.”

He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog?

Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling.

Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags.

He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.

“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”

She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.

“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”

Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park.

On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused.

Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.

Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face.

He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him.

It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well.

How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing.

Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air.

He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule.

Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.

The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower.

There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat.

The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance.

Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence.

She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose.

Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other.

Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase.

He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.

The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies.

Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them.

He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.

“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”

The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.

“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”

And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms.

Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.

Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?

“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.

“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.

“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”

Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what.

“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”

“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”

He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.

“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park.

Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.

From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him.

He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”

It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”

“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”

Oh. Oh!

Well. That’s interesting.

Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”

There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”

Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park.

“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench.

“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”

Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down.

“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”

Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.

Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for.

“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”

Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”

“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”

“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”

“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”

“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can. Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon.

Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.

The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair.

“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding.

He probably already moved locations, the ass.

“What’s up?”

He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again.

“...Is he watching us?”

“Yep.”

“...Should we do something about it?”

Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”

“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”

Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll.

“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.

“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”

Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”

“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”

“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”

He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet.

Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.

Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”

“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”

“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”

“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”

He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run.

It’s going to be a disaster.

It’s going to be fun.

He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dick is so great i love him sooo much. most amazing loser guy ever <3 #him befriending danny at the park bc hes investigating the guy with the green superpowered dog thats making everyone nervous #only to find that danny's a sweet kid whos stressed out and doing his best and cujo is a ghost dog who died years ago and only wants to pla #really tugs at his heartstrings and dick from then on is one of dannys closest friends #the other dog park regulars slowly get used to danny and start talking to him too after dick does and also grow super protective #dannys got a whole squad ready to protect him if duke doesnt treat him right lol #waynes vs dog park regulars: FIGHT #jk they just give very mild shovel talks that are mostly 'treat him right hes had a rough life and deserves love and happiness. or else'#thanks for the prompt!!

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not-with-you-but-of-you · 7 months

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Rory on Jess + text posts (season 2 edition) | (season 3 edition) (seasons 4 & 6 edition) (AYITL bonus edition)

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smallbraintime · 11 days

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Dp×Dc prompt

In her teenage years, Martha Kane and some friends decided that a fun sleepover activity was to do a summoning ritual.

And it worked. They summoned something.

Nowadays, even though her friend is long gone, something still visits Wayne mannor to catch up with Alfred, spoil her neices and nephews, and maintain her title of " my cool Aunt Dani. "

#danny phantom #dp x dc writing prompt #i made myself sad #danny phantom crossover #mild angst

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paperultra · 5 months

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ache.

Pairing: OPLA!Nami x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,004 words Warnings: None

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Wherever she goes, misery follows.

Nature cracks itself open and wails when Nami sets foot in Coco Village, the sun drawing back, the clouds purpling. Raindrops burst open and bleed out on her skin and run in rivulets down the street. Somewhere in the distance, a sharp flash of lightning warns of thunder – and yet, all she can hear is the sharp clink of coins as they fall back into the tribute box.

Gaze unyielding, she sweeps it over the drenched crowd and comes to a stop on Nojiko.

“Not everyone’s here today.”

Her sister does not flinch the way everybody else does. “I brought her amount along with mine,” Nojiko says, and that is all.

“Did you, now.”

Nami knows the weight of what her village owes. She knows how it should fill the box, how it should feel in her arms and on her shoulders. Still, she makes a show of counting the money, slowly, deliberately. The rain continues to beat down on her head, weighing on her hair and turning the dirt into mud beneath her feet.

“You’re short.”

“It’s everything we have, Nami.” Mr. Genzo speaks up this time. “Please.”

“How can I trust that,” Nami replies, her voice colder than the air, “when not everyone is here?”

“She’s sick, Nami,” Nojiko snaps. Her blue hair is dark with rain. “She doesn’t have to be present, does she? All you need and care about is her money, right?”

“I care about her paying the Arlong Pirates what she owes. No more, no less.”

The words taste bitter in her mouth.

(You always get sick before it rains.)

The people, Mr. Genzo, they’re all silent. The tribute box snaps shut as Nami pushes through them and heads down the street.

Nojiko shouts her name. She can hear the slosh of her sister’s footsteps catching up, and when she does, there’s a warning fury on her face as she leans in close.

“Don’t you dare, Nami.”

Nami holds her head high and keeps walking.

“What are you going to do, stop me?”

“I wish I could do more than that.”

“But you can’t.”

Box clutched against her chest, she leaves Nojiko behind and continues on alone.

Your house is near the outskirts of the village – not as far out as her own childhood home, but far enough for privacy and a good bit of land for your animals. They huddle underneath the shelter and watch her with black, beady eyes.

They would fetch a good price.

Nami opens your door and enters without knocking.

She looks around, sees the cold pot of ginger tea on the stove, the unwashed dishes on the table, the heap of blankets on your bed in the corner that shifts. It smells like sickness.

She shouldn’t be here, she tells herself a moment too late.

“Nojiko, is that you?” Your voice slithers out from underneath the pile of blankets, and Nami grimaces at the hoarseness. “I told you I can clean up after myself.”

She thinks to answer. But something keeps her from doing so, and so she sets the box down on the kitchen counter and kneels down to shove some logs into the stove instead.

(She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t –)

“Nojiko?” The mattress creaks. Nami hears a soft gasp and closes her eyes, gritting her teeth. She hastily stacks branches and then some birch bark on top on the logs. “Nacchan –”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You’re home,” you rasp.

Home. Her heart squeezes so hard she thinks she might just die.

“Don’t sound so happy,” Nami says. Finding a match and striking it, she sets fire to the bark and waits impatiently for the flames to build. “I’m only here to collect the tribute.”

“Oh.” There’s a carefulness in the way that you answer, the kind that she’s come to hate. A loud, horrendous cough bursts from your chest before you continue. “Is it enough?”

“Just barely.”

She’ll make up the difference. Dip into her own savings, make another deal with Arlong. He’s cruel, but not completely unreasonable. She can do it. It’ll be okay.

The heat from the fire dries her skin. She shuts the stove door and stands up.

“Thanks, Nami.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Nami makes the mistake of looking over her shoulder at you as she answers. It is a mistake because you grin at her, and suddenly – she’s a child again, at your house for a sleepover –

Your mom is still alive and warming milk on the stove –

You’re giving her a bracelet because that’s what best friends do –

She’s hugging you because you hug the people you love –

And she aches. And she wants. Not just your smile, but everything, the warmth of your back against her palms, your cheek pressed to hers. She wants to clean and put away all your dirty dishes and stay until the fire has warmed each corner of your home and you’re well again.

She wants she wants she wants.

Greed has always been her vice.

“Don’t let all of your tea boil away,” Nami says. She takes your cloak from the hook on the wall and puts it on, then tucks the tribute box underneath her arm. It’s still raining, after all, and she looks after herself above all else.

“I won’t,” you say, and it is quiet before you add, softly, “Stay safe, Nami.”

Nami leaves without another word.

Nojiko is waiting outside, arms crossed, and they meet eyes for only a moment before Nami passes her by.

She retraces her steps away from your house, down the road, into the town square where everyone but Mr. Genzo has already dispersed to escape the foul weather. Coco Village does not bid goodbye when she passes through the gate again, her steps a few million beri heavier.

In the distance, a sharp flash of lightning warns of thunder. Nami wraps her arms around the tribute box, cold, and thinks of you.

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #nami x reader #opla nami #nami #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #mild angst #i did not mean for this to be that angsty but uh. yeah. im sick so #nacchan is such a cute nickname i'm so sad it gets lost in translation so i put it here :)

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kabie-whump · 2 months

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♡ Febuwhump Day 11: Time Loop ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Panic, caretaker turned whumper (kinda), does this count as horror?, attempt to jump out a window, ptsd, supernatural or monster whumper, shapeshifter whumper, ambiguous ending

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Not again not again not again.”

Caretaker takes a step back, confusion crossing their face. “What? What’s going on, Whumpee?”

“Get away from me!” Whumpee scrambles across the room, putting as much distance between them and Caretaker as possible. “Just… Stay back. Please.”

“Alright, alright. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Yes you are,” Whumpee sobs. “Yes you fucking are. You always do.”

“What are you talking about?”

Whumpee inches toward the window, their trembling fingers reaching blindly for the lock since they refuse to take their eyes off Caretaker.

“Hey! Get away from there.”

Caretaker takes a step forward and Whumpee flinches hard. They’re shaking from head to toe, their face pale with terror.

“Just… Don’t do that, okay? I don't know what’s going on with you, but if I’m scaring you I’ll leave. I’m sorry for whatever I did.” With that, Caretaker backs out of Whumpee’s room, closing the door gently. They can hear Whumpee crying on the other side.

What the fuck was that? Why did Whumpee seem so scared of them?

Caretaker wanders into their own room, unsure of what to do. It’s there that they see it - their own face. Their own body. Standing there staring at them with a sharp toothed grin.

Caretaker doesn’t have time to scream before it lunges at them.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #whump ideas #whump prompt #febuwhumpday11 #febuwhump day 11 #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump 2024 #supernatural whump #monster whump #mild horror

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deathlikesdeep-dish · 1 year

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it terrifies me what I would do for you (zoro x reader)

Prompt from @tsunderedoctor

CW: a lil angst, but happy ending!

WC: 796

in the moments after a close encounter, zoro grapples with himself. what’s more important--you? or all of the goals that he has been working towards? he wasn’t sure anymore.

Zoro had only two aims in life–to become the world’s greatest swordsman, and to see Luffy become King of the Pirates. These aims made him steadfast, fiercely loyal, and unwavering.

Recently, however, a third aim began to creep into his singularly focused mind. It happened quietly, so quietly that he didn’t notice until after it was already firmly planted. To have you. To keep you safe. To make you happy. It was this aim that made his chest tighten, made his stomach sink low and his hands clench and ache. It was this aim that threatened to burn all of his immutable plans until they were nothing but ash. And you had no idea.

But here, in a back alley of some forgotten town on some forgotten island, a deep panic set in for Zoro. He was flattened against a stone wall, your back pressed tightly to his chest. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his calloused hand was covering your panting mouth.

“They went this way!” A Navy soldier shouted. Footfalls faded along with the sound of their voices as they passed your dark hiding place.

He was sure you could feel his heart pounding between your shoulder blades. His breaths were quick and shallow in your ear.

I left him. He thought with horror. I left Luffy.

No matter how capable his captain may be of fending off any number of enemies, that was besides the point for Zoro. He vowed to always be by Luffy’s side, always be ready whenever he was needed. And he left him.

In the chaos, Zoro’s only thought was keeping you safe. And in that chaos, he left his captain behind. He was at war with himself, guilt and relief, fear and longing, all wrapped into a tangled, angry knot.

“Phew,” you laughed quietly, “that would’ve been bad.” He jolted, and his thoughts snapped to the present like a stone in a slingshot.

“Zoro? You okay?” You questioned. He suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. He relinquished his grip on you after another long moment and looked down, shame beginning to fill his body.

You were confused. What happened to the light-hearted teasing between the two of you only moments before the Navy showed up?

He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked. He hated the way the insecurity crept into your tone. It wasn’t your fault he was having a crisis of identity. Well, actually. It was. It was completely your fault. Suddenly, he was flooded with anger. He pushed away from the wall and turned his back to you.

“Yes, actually,” He said before he could stop himself.

Even with his back turned, he could feel your expression. “...really? What–” You started, choking a little on the question. “What did I do?”

He whirled to face you. “You showed up, y/n. That’s what.”

Your voice caught in your throat, your lips agape.

“You showed up, y/n,” He repeated. “And you wrecked everything. Things were so much easier when you weren’t around.” He ran his hands through his hair, gripping the green locks at the back of his neck as he continued. “I knew what I was supposed to do, okay? I knew exactly who I was and what I wanted.” His eyes became frantic, like he was talking to himself. “Become the world’s greatest swordsman. See Luffy become King of the Pirates. Every decision, every thought, geared towards that end.”

“But you showed up, y/n,” he repeated a third time, this time a bit softer. He paused for a long moment and the air seemed to crackle with energy. His gray eyes found yours and you had never seen him so vulnerable.

“It terrifies me what I would do for you.” He finally said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I might abandon it all. For you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you reached out to him, cupping his face in one hand. “Zoro,” You said gently. “Never. You’ll never need to abandon it all. Ever.”

He swallowed hard.

“Every decision I make, every thought I have,” you continued, repeating his words from earlier, “It’s all for you and for Luffy.”

He leaned unconsciously into your palm.

You kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered, “To abandon yourself, is to abandon me. So stay.”

He drew a shuddering breath and gathered you into his arms. If could speak, he would have thanked you. He would have thanked you for giving him the permission to remain who he was, to not judge or expect anything more or less.

But for now, he would have to accept this–an intimate embrace in a back alley of a forgotten town on a forgotten island. And his fear began to melt.

#one piece #onepiece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro x reader #hurt/comfort #mild angst #one piece reader insert #reader insert #zoro #anime #roronoazoro #writing prompt #writing

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hanasnx · 11 months

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I was thinking:

Being bent over the wing of Anakins ship while he just RAILS you. Hair pulling is mandatory.

i love this visual oh my fucking god. i did get carried away with a metaphor tho..

warnings: objectification

like the way you were hanging around him in the hangar while he was working on his ship. talking about the improvements he’s made. he’s so impassioned it’s infectious and endearing; you start looking at him with such a sultry gaze and he’s licking his lips about it. slows to a halt in his monologue. “better yet, let me show you.” he drawls, and gestures you to him. swiftly, he bends you right over so your nose is on the wing. “take a good look. really get in there.” he simpers as he takes a generous gander at your backside as it plumps past the deep arch of your spine. maybe he starts talking about you and your anatomy as if you’re the body of his ship. comparing your perfect shape to the streamline of his aircraft. all the while his hands wander and knead. swipe between your legs so you jolt from the sensitivity. talks about how well he knows you and all your switches and buttons. how you please the eyes, how you satisfy, how you perform. how he’s worked so hard to mold you into his flawless tool.

oh yeah, he’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget you’re a person instead just a toy begging for pleasure.

#mild-disorganization #indy shoots the shit #anakin #thanks for the msg!!#x f!reader #reader insert #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker

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tblsomedoodles · 3 months

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Just me back on my rvb bullshit in the form of some rare pair cuddles.

I drew Simmons being clingy last time, so now it was wash's turn. and i was actually brave enough to start posting the fic for these two as well, so have that link too.

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drarrily-we-row-along · 1 year

Text

Infected

"No," Harry shouted, cradling his injured arm close to his chest like Draco was the most unreasonable brute to ever live, like Draco was the one who had hurt him in the first place.

"Harry-" he started.

But Harry shook his head, stepping around their kitchen table, keeping the table between them. "No!" he repeated, "you're going to hurt me."

"For fuck's sake," he sighed. "You've brought this on yourself."

His husband's bottom lip protruded, wobbling precariously, "It's not my fault," he whined.

And it was ridiculous just how hard it was for Draco to resist the urge to give in and just give Harry whatever he wanted when he pouted like that. "Harry, I told you not-"

"It's not my fault!" he interrupted.

"It literally is!" Draco argued, taking counter measures to try to catch the other man.

He shook his head, darting out of Draco's reach and moving into their living room, putting the couch between them this time.

"Harry. I told you to leave the next door neighbor's new dog alone. I told you that he is an asshole and that he was going to tear into you."

"But it's not my fault!"

Draco rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, "You literally walked up to the fence and reached over it for him!"

"It's not my fault that he is so bloody adorable!" Harry whined. "What was I supposed to do? Just let it continue looking so cute without touching it?"

"Yes," Draco said reasonably, "as a matter of fact."

"I can't," he pouted.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Well, now you have to deal with the consequences," he said, waggling a potion at him. "We need to get this on your arm so that you don't get an infection."

"But it hurts," he whined.

"Harry," he said, ignoring the way his pouting made Draco's gut twist uncomfortably, "it will only hurt for a minute, then it will be better. It's probably hurt more in the time you've put it off than it will just having the wound healed."

His husband slumped, looking defeated.

"Come here," he cajoled, sitting down on the couch and waiting.

After one more second of indecision, Harry made his way over and plopped down next to him.

He held out a hand and Harry gingerly placed his forearm, wound up, in his palm. "That looks like it hurts," Draco said sympathetically.

Harry nodded.

"Okay," he murmured, tapping lightly with his wand to numb the area slightly before pouring the potion on the wounds. He watched as the wounds knit themselves together, Harry wincing and hissing his way through the healing process. Then once the wounds were closed, he cast a spell to clean his arm. "There," he said lightly, "good as new."

Harry pouted at him.

With a little laugh, he brought Harry's forearm to his lips and pressed a kiss to where the skin had healed. "And a kiss to make it better."

"Thanks," he mumbled a little shy, even after all this time together.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, "I love you, you know."

"I love you too. Thanks for fixing me up."

Draco smiled at him, "My pleasure, love. Happy to keep you safe," he added softly because it was true. Getting to love and take care of Harry was the great joy of his life. And it was something that he happily did until the day he died.

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

Read more of my fics here.

#love #soft #fluff #silly #husbands #healer draco #cw for mild injury #drarry #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one word prompt #ewe

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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First I’m literally obsessed with the way you write homie it’s literally so in character.

Second, how do you think he would react to having a thicker gf and seeing them being verbally harassed bc of it? I feel like he would lose his mind

this fic has been rewritten and given a smutty follow up! check it out here. ;)

Tonight's gala is a significant one. Not only does Homelander have about a dozen deals to grease with a firm handshake and some oily promises, it's your first time attending one of these events at his side. He couldn't be prouder. You took his breath away in your formal wear; a sight to behold that had him clapping his delight. "You're gonna knock them dead," he whispered in your ear, savoring the flustered, breathy way you laughed.

Strange now that when he looks for you, Homelander doesn't see you on the event floor. You had gone to get drinks while he spoke with this senator—who has officially lost any and all of his interest in the wake of your disappearance—but you've been gone too long. Like an itch at the back of his neck, something doesn't feel right. "Ah, apologies, senator, I seem to have misplaced my date," he says, flashing his best award winning smile. "Gimme a minute to find her. Make sure she hasn't gotten herself into any trouble," he says, throwing in a wink for good measure. His pleasant expression falls off as soon as his back is turned to the boring little man. When Homelander doesn't find you on the event floor, he steps out. He listens for you, filtering out the music, the chatter, the noise of the world. He seeks what is familiar to him, what he would know from a meter or a mile away, and what he hears puts a lump of ice into his gut. You're crying.

Homelander moves swiftly down the hall, finding the women's bathroom in a heartbeat. You've gone far from the event floor, bypassing the nearer bathroom to use one further away. You're hiding, he realizes, but he can't fathom what from. He moves faster, imagining that you're hurt, that someone has you, that— "Babe?!" Homelander calls sharply, slamming open the door. He doesn't mean to scare you, but he can see in your expression that he did. Your eyes are wide and red, tears trailing black mascara down your cheeks. You stand with your hand lingering on the bathroom sink, and as the shock fades, your expression falters.

He's never seen you look so... sad. It twists in him like a hot knife, the discomfort he feels at it turning immediately into rage. Anger comes quick and easy to him. His voice is low when he demands, "Tell me what happened." "It's nothing," you try to dismiss, picking up the tissues you dropped on the floor to toss them into the garbage. "I just got overwhelmed at the party." "You're crying in a bathroom a floor down from the event, it is categorically not nothing," he argues, taking hold of your arms once he's near enough. He pulls you into him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face. Thanks to plenty of experience with makeup in film and television, he knows better than to smear the blackened tears on your cheeks, though the impulse to wipe them away is there. "C'mon. Tell me."

You lean into him as you always do. He is a pillar, just as you have been for him. He can't fucking stand seeing you like this. "I don't belong here. I don't... talk, or dress, or look like these people. They're all..." You lift your hands, gesturing vaguely. Your voice sounds hoarse. He can't bear the sadness in it. "Perfect." "You have to be kidding me," Homelander says, his disbelief genuine. "The gaggle of sycophants and suits back there? They're insipid. Boring as all hell. I can't even tolerate being in the same room as them without you anymore," he says, huffing a laugh in an attempt to ease your mood. Anything to bring back your smile. "Seriously, what brought this on? You've never given a shit about all that pomp before." Your gaze drops. He knows you're hiding something from him. "Hey, c'mon," he coos, using the knuckle of his index finger to tilt your chin back up. "Tell me, and I will make it better."

One way or another.

With visible reluctance, you take a breath. "I... went to get the drink, like I said," you begin, fidgeting with the zipper on his glove. "When a group of people kind of cornered me at the bar. They seemed nice at first, they were asking questions about me, about us, which I know you said to expect, but then..." Your eyes prickle, he can see fresh tears well up as you speak. Homelander slips a hand to your back, rubbing it, his brow furrowed.

Sounds like someone's going to die tonight.

"One of them commented on my dress, she said that... Vought must not be used to dressing women my size," you say, voice falling quieter with every word. New tears fall. Homelander's jaw tenses. He looks away from you, blinking back that familiar crimson burn. "They all started laughing, and I just wanted to disappear," you say, a tight little sob escaping your throat as Homelander pulls you in against his chest, rubbing your back. "I'm sorry I didn't-" "No," Homelander interrupts, his anger making the word sound harsher than he intended. "No," he says again, correcting himself to be gentler. This rage isn't for you, after all. "No apologies. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Get back out there." Someone is definitely going to die tonight. You tense up, pushing back from his arms to look up at him. "Please, I'd really like to just go home." "We will," he assures you, smoothing his hands up and down your arms. "Soon. I want you to show me the group who spoke to you."

"I don't want to cause a scene," you plead, flattening your hands to his chest. "They're not worth it." "No, they're not. But you are," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. He holds you firm until he feels you begin to melt, yielding to the warmth of him. By the time he draws back, you look sufficiently pliant. "Okay," you say quietly. He bites back a predatory smirk. "Nothing too dramatic, please?" You plea, leveling him with an attempt at a firm look, despite your big teary eyes. "Me? Dramatic?" He asks, feigning outrage. "I mean it," you stress, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There it is, Homelander thinks. There is not a single heinous thing he would not do to see you smile. "Relax," he purrs. "I'll handle this."

When the two of you return to the event floor, it only takes you a moment to point out the offending group. With a hand wrapped securely around your waist, Homelander brazenly guides you to them. He feels you squeeze his hand anxiously, but he isn't the least bit deterred.

"Heyyy, what's up!" Homelander greets boisterously, bulldozing into their conversation with the friendliest of tone. Only you are wise enough to recognize the venom dripping from the corners of his mouth. His canines glint sharply in the light, as if eager for a bloody meal.

The air is strange, a mixture of drunken excitement and surprised nervousness. It's not every day Homelander himself steps into your conversation. A few of them look at you before they exchange glances, but clearly enough alcohol has been imbibed that they're feeling brave. They don't see the danger they're in. Homelander runs his tongue along his teeth. You clueless fucking idiots.

"Homelander, oh my god! I was hoping to run into you," one of the women announces. He can smell the liquor on her breath when she leans in, putting a bold hand on his arm opposite to the one he holds you with. "I'm such a fan, you have no idea. I've seen every one of your movies," she says, flushed giddy.

"Always great to meet such a dedicated fan," he says, lying through his teeth. A glance through her bag gives him exactly what he needs; her Vought security badge. She works in communications. "Kathleen, right? In Communications," he says, pointing a finger at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he's just now recalling this information. "Oh, I-wow, yes! I can't believe you know who I am," she says, glancing back at her companions.

"I try to know everyone I work with," he lies smoothly, subtly shrugging her hand off of his shoulder, placing his hand on his hip. Not all of them work for Vought, but each of them has their ID on them. A quick flit of his super powered vision between them is all it takes for him to know each and every one of them.

Homelander cocks his head to the side, giving her a once over. Her dress is richly patterned, a myriad of black, white and red. The belt bears a familiar double C logo.

“Wow, Kathleen, look at you. Chanel, huh? Oh, wait…,” he stops himself, leaning forward to take a better look at the details of the dress. He clicks his tongue, standing straight. “Nooope, I misspoke. Chanel doesn’t bleed. Not a bad knock-off, though,” he says with a brief downturn of his lips, shrugging. Immediately, all eyes fall on Kathleen. There are a couple of stifled giggles and some childish oohh's. The man to her left, seeming eager to play along with Homelander’s little game of Mean Girls, readily chimes in, “Busted.” “I’d be quiet if I were you, Chuck,” Homelander says, rounding on the man so sharply, his laughter falls immediately silent. The shock on his face is understandable. He doesn't work for Vought. Homelander has no right knowing his name. “I can smell the red paint on the bottom of those misshapen Johnston & Murphy’s you’re trying to pass off as Louis Vuitton. Now that’s embarrassing.” This time, no one’s laughing. There’s no mirth left in Homelander’s voice, and they've all finally realized it. His gaze is drifting from one potential prey to the next, his mouth set in an unyielding line. He lifts his brows, waiting for them to continue their jeering.

“What? No one has anything to say to that? How about you, Jason?” He asks, startling one of the other men. “Why don’t we talk about those fucking ugly veneers of yours? I mean, god damn. I’ve never seen a more square smile in my life. It’s like staring at white slatwall every time you open your mouth.” Homelander begins to laugh. The sound of it is thorned, vicious to behold. “Aww, c’mon, don’t be so fucking sensitive. You wanted to have a laugh at my girl, right? Let’s laugh, then,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to snap his fingers impatiently, demanding, “Laugh!” Like a bark from an obedient dog, a single man amidst the group forces a stilted laugh. Homelander hones in on him with the precision of a seeking missile, dropping his hand. Deadpan, he asks, “Something funny, Jim?” Jim audibly gulps. “Y-you said-” "Y'see, that's your problem. You're all just a bunch of fucking sheep, so desperate to be seen as somebody, you end up being no one at all. If you put half the effort you put into kissing ass into a personality, you might be a fraction as interesting as she is," he says, gesturing to you with the hand he doesn't have holding you close.

"But instead you prop yourselves up on all this..." Homelander spins his hand loosely through the air before sighing, "Bullshit. It's boring. You're all so fucking boring and miserable with yourselves. You reek of it," he says, lip twitching in a near snarl. "Go. Get the fuck out of my tower,” he rumbles, voice set low. “All of you. Before I throw you off the balcony myself.”

There's a pregnant pause before Homelander snaps, "Now!" Like roaches, the lot of them scatter. Homelander watches them with a sneer. He would have preferred literally tearing them apart, but it's neither the time nor the place. "Holy shit," you whisper. Homelander hums quietly, turning to look down at you. Before he can say a word, you grab hold of the back of his neck and kiss him absolutely senseless. He grins against your lips, turning to pull you properly into his arms. His ego swells immediately, the kiss speaking volumes. You're pleased. Pleased with him. He greedily soaks up the feeling of your body against his, lips moving against yours, eager to chase away the salt smell of your tears with something a little more salacious. The two of you break apart before the kiss becomes any more scandalous than it already was, the buzz of the crowd around you dulled by the fervency pulsing between your bodies. "That was... the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me," you whisper, your heart beating heavily in your chest.

"That so? Might not be for long. This dress on your body has been driving me positively wild. All. Night. Long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. You bite your lip, inhaling a sharp, flustered little breath. "Can we get out of here yet?"

"You're damn right we can," he says, kissing you again.

That night, Homelander fucks you in and out of the dress. The truth of it is that whether you're dressed to the nines or laid completely bare, he will always be wild for you. You're beautiful, you're his through and through, and he's going to make sure every inch of you knows it.

He can deep fry those morons another night.

#thank you so much for the lovely words and the prompt!!! i hope this works for you #homelander x reader #homelander x you #plus size reader #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #my writing #fatphobia cw #very mild dw #i'm sorry it's late i will proof read in the morning haha #i wrote this as a palate cleanser #i feel much better

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