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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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Summonings

Ever since Danny Phantom became the Ghost King, he’s had to deal with an endless amount of crap. An eternity of it, actually, and it was constantly causing him unending amount of existential crises and stress.

First, there was the paperwork. Pariah Dark, the incompetent asshole, had left him decades worth of bureaucracy to painfully sift through. He ended up hiring some ghosts with paperwork obsessions to sort some of that out. Who knew ruling the infinite realms would require this much paperwork? He’s lucky each section of the underworld had their own systems to report to their own rulers who, in turn, report to him.

Secondly, there were the Observers. And other ghosts, like his own rogues, but they were the main issues. Eyeball menaces. They protested his appointment, something he actually agreed with. Putting a fifteen year old on the throne is rarely a smart decision. But the Infinite Realm values strength, the only type of currency that matters in the land of the gods and the dead. Danny? Phantom? He’s got strength in spades. With only a few months of being a ghost, Danny had managed to defeat Pariah Dark, who had cowered gods and struck fear into the hearts of ghost heroes.

But Danny hasn’t quite realized the significance of that yet, too focused on the realization that he was about to be in charge of the infinite realms. The Observants, since his reluctant and extremely limited coronation, has been up his ass about doing things the “proper way.”

Danny’s main problem lies with the ridiculous amount of paperwork though. It’s fine. Tedious. But fine.

But if he gets one more fifteen page essay style complaint form about some guy named Constantine, Danny might seriously reconsider donning Dan’s ruthlessness and offing the guy himself. Perhaps grab the man by his shoulders and shake him like a rag doll and ask who the fuck told him it was a good idea to sell his soul out like that? Danny eventually just sent out Skulker to hunt down the contracts and trade minor services for them. He owns most of the soul now, and perhaps he’ll hunt this guy down and force him to do paperwork.

Regardless, paperwork was just often tedious. He’s worked out a system for himself. The halfa, true to his teenage form, had better things to be doing. His homework, for one. Hanging out with his friends and logging in hours for Doomed 2 would be another. But no, he’s here, twirling a pen as he glared down at a stack of forms for a zone expansion. What the fuck does Zeus want to expand his zone for? The current share space of the sky domain is literally a perfect balance with respect towards the other gods. For the love of- Danny slams down a red ‘REJECTED’ stamp on top of the stack. His hair flickers wildly in annoyance, the iced over Crown floating above his head emitting concerning levels of frost. To anyone else but himself, of course.

He then feels a soft tug on his core.

Right. The third most annoying thing about becoming King: the fucking summoning. Danny taps his pen against his lips, clicking it against his fangs, as he considers the summoning circle that calls him. Huh. Desperation. Mildly bloody. Fear. Resignation- ah, fuck it, it’s not like he’s too enthusiastic about staying to do work with the Observers poking around. He takes the summoning, allowing his regalia to overtake his normal hazmat-clad form, and approves the summoning.

Oh hey, Danny thinks he recognizes that ugly ass trenchcoat.

—-

John Constantine has had more than enough practice summoning things that would give people nightmares. But there are things he normally refuses to touch, refuses to even entertain the idea of trying. As usual, desperation made John its bitch and the Justice League’s battered and bruised faces tugged on his shriveled heart.

He’s going to summon something from the Infinite Realms. Oh, but he wasn’t just summoning any old ghost. No, he thought, I’m just going to summon the one being that’s guaranteed to be able to crush our universe without breaking a sweat. Bollocks.

“Is it ready?”

“Untwist your pants, spooky,” John snaps, wishing he had a crate of whiskey he could down. “We’re trying to summon the Ghost King, not your average demon.”

“What do we know about him?” Batman’s gravelly voice demanded.

“Powerful enough to take us all out without even breaking a sweat. Defeated the bloody tyrant who ruled over the Realms last I heard.”

“That’s it?”

“You could ask Deadman, but I heard he’s on the outs with the Infinite Realms on the fact that he’s made of pure magic, not ectoplasm.”

“There’s no guarantee the king will work with us.” Zatanna says, pressing her fingertips together tiredly. She had been at the forefront of the battle and had paid the price for it. “But he’s supposedly more benevolent than his predecessor… and we’re out of options.”

“Hm.”

“Just make sure to shut up and let me do the talking.”

“Hn.”

John rolls his eyes and takes a fortifying breath, something that does not go unnoticed by the League. They all tense up, preparing themselves for a battle. Another one, seeing as they all got their ass kicked by a ghost only ten hours ago. The League is spread thin, running interference to distract the ghost in question and evacuating civilians.

John Constantine started chanting, the glow of his magic lighting up the circle as he spills his blood into the circle.

He waits, heart in his throat, for the summoning to work.

“Is it supposed to take-” Red Robin asks, only to cut himself off as the circle flares once more. Power pulsates outwards from the circle. Frost crackles on the frost resistant floors, spreading outwards as a green portal rips open the fabric of time and space. Long, spindly imitations of a hand grabs the edges of space and pulls, heaving the rest of his celestial body out of the tear in reality. John does not look away. He can not look away, not from the eerie green pallor of the King, not from his torrential white wisps of hair, not from the black-hole like material of his outfit, not from the nebulas and beginnings and endings tailored onto the King’s cape. John could not look away from the ice crown that floated like a bastion of power above the king’s head.

His mouth is dry. What price will he have to pay to save the world? What price will this being demand of him, of the Justice League, to save the world?

John desperately needs that drink.

—-

Oh! He’s in his home dimension! His core purrs at coming home, at the close proximity to his first haunt.

He was expecting cultists, or even the Winchesters again, but this is nice.

The Justice League- summoning him. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they hear about this.

They’ve been staring at him in silence for a bit now. It was getting awkward.

“Why have you summoned me?” He asks, softening his tone. By their winces, he didn’t get it as well as he thought. Danny grimaces. At the first sign of discomfort though, the man in the trenchcoat- is that fucking Constantine?!- launches into a nerve filled tirade.

“Your, uh, Majesty.” He starts. “One of… One of your subjects is wreaking havoc on the world. We would be extremely grateful if… if you could reign him in?”

Danny’s face sours, only to quickly clear his expression as he realized how much even a small hint of displeasure causes the jumpiness in Constantine and the others.

“To do that, I will have to make a contract with you, seeing as you’ve summoned me.” Danny drawls, letting his overly long digits wave at the summoning circle in question. He could break it, of course, but Danny’s bored and trying to draw this out. He’s not saying he’d take a batch of cookies as payment but that’s exactly what he’s saying.

“The price… you could always have my soul?”

Danny pauses. “Your… soul?”

Oh, he did not say what he just said.

“Yes. My soul.”

Oh, he did.

Fuck it. Danny’s flashbacks of suffering through the reports pushes green into his irises and urgency to his action.

He breaks out of the circle, hands lunging and gripping Constantine’s jaw tightly. Danny ignores the shouts of alarm as he allows the thrown weapons to pass through him.

John Constantine is panicking now, struggling in the air as Danny lifts him an inch off the floor in agitation.

Good.

“Your soul, little wizard? The one you’ve split eight ways till the thirtieth of February? The one that caused,” he tightens his grip, no doubt bruising the man. “An insane amount of paperwork that I’ve had to suffer through. Your soul, John Constantine?”

Danny hisses his name. The man makes a warbling noise that Danny takes as acknowledgement. Danny bats away the weak spell Zatanna sends at him with a hand.

“You’ll find that I am in the possession of most of your soul contracts. To simply put,” he grins, teeth made of dying stars on display. “I own your soul. My soul, now.”

He drops the wizard who collapses onto his knees to stare up at him in horror, eyes flicking between the circle that was meant to contain him and Danny, who is very much not contained. He crouches down- something necessary but disjointed as he’s not used to this taller form- and speaks to Constantine in a slow, dead serious, drawl.

“If you ever sell your soul again, you and I are going to have issues. Is that clear, John Constantine?”

“Uh- yeah, yes, yes, your majesty.”

Patting his cheek condescendingly, Danny gets up and sighs, stress relieved. He’s starting to feel bad, though, so he allows his form to ripple back to his normal teenage Phantom self.

“Well, it’s not like anyone will buy it, since they know they’ll have to go against me.” He chirps, flipping 180 from his terror inducing eldritch voice. “So, what’ll you pay me to get rid of whatever ghost you’ve got?”

“…. Nothing?”

Red Robin holds out a bag, eyebags betraying his exhaustion. “I’ve got fifty dollars and a bag of cookies.”

Phantom beams at him. “Throw in a couple of autographs and you’ve got a deal.”

“That’s- yeah, okay.” Red Robin says, inching forward cautiously to hand him the bag.

“Great. I’ll be back for them later. You can call me Phantom. ‘Your Majesty’ gets annoying after a while.”

“Thank- thank you for your mercy, Your- Phantom.” Wonder Woman says.

“Sure. Make sure this idiot doesn’t make any more deals with demons while I’m out, yeah?”

With that, Danny Phantom grabs the bag of cookies and fifty dollars and flies through the wall to do his job.

John slams his head onto the space station floor.

“Fuck.”

—-

Danny: lol I’ll do it for the shits and giggles

Constantine and the League: he’s terrifying, a bastion of pure power and authority

Red Robin, Young “we commit war crimes bc it gets shit done” Justice leader and fellow gremlin: he’d probably do it for cookies. I would.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #john constantine #batman #Bruce Wayne being tired af #ghostly shenanigans #bamf Danny phantom #ghost king danny

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halfpastdead · 1 year

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thinking back to like. when you would hang out with your friends and just do homework together. i need that in life NOW like i need a friend to sit with and fill out government forms with and keep each other focused on the homework life keeps giving me

#doomed to completing solitary mundane tasks until i die i guess?#anyway ya i just had to do some paperwork #excruciating #it was so relaxing to just sit on the floor with someone quietly working on shit and occasionally pointing out some bs

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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The Farmer's Daughter 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wake up with your head on Walt’s arm. You lay on your side, facing him as his chest rises and falls, a rumble thundering through him with each breath. His warmth has you in a sheen of sweat. You hesitate to move, not wanting to disturb him.

As you lay and listen to his snores, your stomach topturns. The realisation flows through you and turns to ice. As unusual as this awakening is now, this will be your forever. That’s what you agreed to. Your days, your nights, your everything will belong to Walt.

You squirm as suddenly you’re on fire, your scalp speckling with impending doom. You shift onto your back and slowly sit up. You bend your head forward and cover your face as you try to ease the spinning in your head.

You drag your feet from beneath the blankets and turn to sit with your back to him. To your future husband. You just can’t make it sound normal in your head.

You stand cautiously, mindful not to jostle the bed. His low snores carry through the air as you walk across the creaky floorboard, peeking over with each step. Your legs prickle with goosebumps as you get to the door. A shiver rolls over you and you hug yourself as the morning air flows up the bottom of the flannel shirt.

You leave him and find your way downstairs. You turn on the space heater and linger before it, building the courage to detach yourself from the glow of heat. You continue into the kitchen and carefully make your way around it.

The least you can do is make breakfast. You suppose that will be expected from now on. It’s not so out of the ordinary, it’s only Walt will be more than just a guest, more than a friend.

You take out eggs and a tray of breakfast sausage. You pause as you wonder if it’s too much. You hope he doesn’t mind.

You do your best to be quiet as you put a skillet on the oven to heat. You line a pan with the sausages and preheat the gas stove. You flutter your fingers anxiously as you wait, staying close to absorb some of the heat.

“Morning,” Walt’s gritty timbre sends a tremor through you.

You glance over as he enters, a brown robe around him as he rubs his eyes and sweeps his curls away from his face. You return his greeting as you crack the eggs into a bowl to whisk. He hums and nears the counter, grabbing a tin near the back.

“Coffee?” He wonders.

“Oh, no I–” you set the bowl down, “I didn’t– I can do that now.”

“Mm, thanks, sweetheart,” he puts the tin down and sidles closer to you, “sleep okay?”

His hand touches the small of your back as stands close. You nod, “mhmm,” you step up to the counter and grab the beat-up percolator. “Thanks, I… I did.”

“Rain’s let up,” he reluctantly parts and peers through the window as you fill the percolator from the tap, “should go out and check on the truck after breakfast… then we can head up to the bank.”

“The bank?” You shut off the faucet and loud the grinds, then pop the metal lid into place. You put the metal jug onto the burner and twist the knob.

“Get some thing’s sorted. I told your mother I’d bring some paperwork,” he explains as he sits in one of the wooden chairs. He watches you intently as you face him. He’s quiet as his eyes rove you from head to toe. A breath fills his chest, “and we can tell her the news.”

You try to smile and quickly turn your attention back to the eggs. You put oil on the skillet as you clear your throat, “yeah, she’ll… I think she’ll be happy.”

“Could do a lot worse around here,” he grits.

“I didn’t mean…” you shake your head as the oil sizzles, “I only… I’m getting used to the idea still.”

“Seem to be getting used to it,” he remarks, “lucky me got a woman like you to wake up to, make me breakfast…”

“Uh, yeah,” you pour the eggs into the pan.

He lets a long exhale and the chair groans beneath his weight, “it’s like a dream come true. Finally,” he drawls as the savoury smell of sausages blooms from the over, “about time I settled down. Least that’s what the old crones whisper down at the grocery store.”

“Oh, ha, well, everyone talks,” you shrug, “I’m sure they whisper about me too.”

“Uh huh, I heard them,” he scoffs as his tone harshens, “about you talking to Odinson… making eyes at him.”

“What–” you nearly choke, “I…I didn’t— I wouldn’t.”

You scrape the pan to scramble the eggs as your voice knots in your throat. It feels like an accusation but you know it was harmless. Thor was just being helpful and that was weeks ago.

“Well, you won’t,” he says tersely, “from now on, I don’t want you being friendly with the likes of him. He’s no good.”

“Walt, I wasn’t–”

“That’s before,” he interjects, “this is now. We’re gonna be married. Things are different.”

“I know,” you eke out, “but I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh huh, but you flirted with me,” he insists.

“I…” you stop yourself before you begin. You didn’t flirt with him, you were nice to him. Like you always were. Like you had been for years.

“Sweet thing like you, it’s easy to get the wrong idea and men like Odinson, they always get the wrong idea,” he growls.

The percolator trembles and you turn off the burner. You quickly twist the other down to low and put a lid over the eggs to keep them warm. You turn to the cupboard and pick out a mug with an ombre of brown. You pour the steaming coffee and bring it to him.

“You don’t have to mope, I’m just making you aware,” he says, “you’re too sweet to see it. I’m protecting you. That’s what a husband does, right?”

You make yourself smile and swallow, “of course, thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he takes the mug from you with a wink, “look at you, my sweet little wife.”

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #the farmer's daughter #au #backwoods au #series #drabble #night hunter

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souliebird · 7 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 5]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

words: 4.4k

It has been one week since you saw Matt Murdock on the evening news, and it feels like it has been a complete whirlwind. First, you reintroduced yourself to him and let him know he was a father, then you had a nice little outing, and to tie it all up, a trip to the doctors to confirm what you already knew.

Matthew Murdock is the father of your daughter.

It is nice to have an official statement from a doctor and now you can start the process of changing Minnie's paperwork to include his name. You have to go to the courthouse to file for an updated birth certificate. Matt has very kindly offered to take that task on for you - he goes to the courthouse often for his job and he knows the ins-and-outs of navigating legal paperwork. You just have to go and drop off the right documentation.

You had a brief call last night, after Minnie had been put down, and decided that you would visit his office today to do just that. You are going to kill two birds with one stone - hand over what needs to be filed and give Matt more time with his daughter.

To your great surprise, your timid little Mouse absolutely adores him. She was not happy to have to be at the doctor's office yesterday and was on the verge of tears before he showed up. Her whole mood shifted, and she had spent the brief time you were in the waiting room and exam room telling Matt about different things around them.

You have a feeling, when you sit down and tell her the truth, she is going to be thrilled.

You told her that you are going to visit Matt at work today, and all morning she has been hunched over her sketchbook making pictures for him while you try to get in some hours at work. Try being the key word, as you've been thoroughly distracted by today's news cycle.

You were half listening to a puff piece about something or other when breaking news flashed across the screen. A neighborhood in Connecticut has been leveled by some sort of explosion, killing hundreds. They don't know if it was an accident or some sort of attack - the epicenter of the blast was a school, so it could potentially be either. You pray it was a freak accident, some faulty pipeline or a weird meteor, because the world doesn't need any more horribleness in it.

The idea that it might have been an attack makes you nervous. You've been through two horrible attacks on New York, and you didn't realize another big event so close to home would shake you so hard.

It scares you that you have to raise Minnie in such a harsh world, where monsters of all kinds are very very real and you don't know who you can rely on. The police and government have been shown to be all kinds of corrupt and people who can shoot laser beams fight each other in the skies.

You end up clocking out and going to sit with Minnie to get yourself to stop your doom-listening. She's got a few drawings scattered around the table and you pick up the one closest to you, smiling at her handy work.

You recognize the shapes as her interpretation of people - oblongs with stick arms and noodle legs. Unknowingly, she's made her first new family portrait. There are three blob-people all holding hands: you suspect you're the big orange one with a smile, Minnie is the little pink one in the middle with what you guess are pigtails, and Matt is the black one with red eyes, who is also holding a stick. To confirm, you ask her.

"Is this one Mister Matt?"

Her head shoots up and a big grin spreads across her face, "Yeah! And that's you and that's me and we're gonna go to the zoo!" There is a little flurry of motion and suddenly you are getting a picture show. She holds up the paper she was working on - there's another family drawing, but this time there's green scribbles all around you and a blue square with zig zags all over it. You guess that is some sort of animal.

"You want to go to the zoo with Mister Matt?" You ask, examining her masterpiece.

"Yeah!" She says, pulling over another picture that you know are her versions of flowers, even if they are all different colors. "And the park!"

"And the park? Wow, that's a lot of things to do. Do you want to ask him if he wants to go to the zoo with us when we see him today?" Minnie eagerly nods at the question and that makes you smile. "Okay, we can invite him to the zoo. When are we going to the zoo?"

The question makes her bounce in excitement, "My birthday!"

You laugh at her enthusiasm and give her a little back rub, "Exactly. We're going to go for your birthday. And get a big cake with whatever you want on it." That makes her a giggly mess and you temporarily forget all the bad things in the world.

You hand her back her drawing before kissing the top of her hair, "How about you finish this one up and we get ready to go see Mister Matt? We can only visit for a little bit, because he's working, but I bet he'll love everything you made him."

Greedy little hands take back the paper and instantly Mouse is hunched back over her zoo scene, purple crayon in hand. You get up and go to make sure that you have everything you need to bring to Matt in order. You are extremely lucky that the doctor has the ability to print out things in Braille, so you don't need to make an extra stop to get things translated.

You debate bringing Matt lunch, but ultimately decide against it. You don't want to push too much too fast, and you think it might be a little weird for his coworkers, to see a random person bring him homemade lunch. You know he hasn't told anyone yet about yourself and Minnie - he had shyly admitted it didn't feel real until the test results were given and you completely get it.

You tidy up until you spy Mouse dropping her crayons into her bucket and cleaning up her drawing area. You let her do her thing, then approach, "Let's put your drawings with the other things we need to give Mister Matt. That way they won't get lost or wrinkled."

She nods like you've just said something very wise and gathers up her stack of papers before handing them over. There's five in total; the three she showed you and two more full of colorful lines. You decide you'll listen in on her explanation to Matt on those two, as you're curious as to what goes on in her little mind.

Once everything is safe and ready to go, it's just a matter of getting shoes on. You go with your sensible sneakers while Minnie opts for her frog themed Wellingtons. The plan is for both of you to walk to the office, and after one final wallet-keys-phone check in your purse, you head out hand-in-hand.

It's mid-morning, so foot traffic is decent, but not heavy - nothing that makes Minnie too uncomfortable. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, and it makes you wonder if the rain that has been promised in the forecast will be coming sooner than expected and you are glad this outing is the only one you have planned. Taking Minnie around in the rain is never fun. It always seems like everything becomes more bustling in the rain and trying to navigate that with a crying toddler just makes you want to cry as well.

But the promise of her new favorite person and mild weather has her walking like the born and bred New Yorker she is - a determined little pout with no nonsense steps. No one will be trying to sell her things on the sidewalks once she gets bigger. If she had a different personality, you'd want to teach her to say "Hey, I'm walking here" just to hear a toddler say it.

As you spy the building Matt's office is in, you realize you should have sent him a text to say you were on your way. You did let him know vaguely what time you planned to stop by and he had assured you that they had no appointments - it was catch up on paperwork day - but that didn't mean walk-in clients hadn't come by. You're so close to already being there that you think the gesture is pointless, so you just keep walking until you get to the building.

"This is where we are going," you tell Minnie as you approach. You scoop her up to show her the business directory on the outside of the building. There aren't very many plaques to begin with, so it's easy to find the Nelson, Murdock, and Page one. "That is where Mister Matt works with his friends."

She leans out and feels over the embossed sign, running her fingers over the different letters. "'M'! For Minnie!" She says, pointing out the letter with a big smile.

"Exactly. Mister Matt's last name starts with M, too. That word is his last name - Murdock."

That gets her to turn back to the sign, fingers dancing over the letters, brows knitting with curiosity, "How is it spelled?"

You spell out Murdock for her and Minnie repeats each letter after you. You do this a few times until she's able to say it out loud on her own. You don't know how long she'll retain the information, as spelling isn't really on the board yet, but you're happy she's interested. You set her back down and she makes a beeline up the steps, grabbing and pulling at the door with all her three-year-old strength.

The lobby to the building is sparse, with basically only an elevator and staircase, with a door to what you suspect is a supply closet. "We're going up two staircases," you tell your daughter.

"Two!" She confirms before taking off towards the stairs. You have a brief moment of panic that she's going to zip up both sets faster than you can catch her, but to your great amusement, she grabs a hold of the banister with both hands and pretends to use it like a mountaineering rope to climb the stairs. She even adds little fake huffs and puffs. You follow behind her, ready to catch her if she slips. She doesn't, and when you get to the floor Matt's office is on, she turns to beam at you, clearly proud of herself, "We did it!"

"We did it," you parrot, offering out your hand again. She takes it and you lead her to the correct door. The same plaque that was on the exterior of the building also hangs beside their door and Minnie astutely points to it.

"Murdock!"

"That's right, it says Nelson, Murdock, and Page."

"Can I knock?" Mouse asks, raising her fist to do just that.

You hum, then gently explain, "This is business, which means work. For work, we don't have to knock. We can go in if it is open."

As soon as you say that she's opening the door and marching inside and you quickly follow her.

Matt's law partners, Foggy and Karen, are in the reception area with a man you assume is a client of theirs, talking in hushed annoyed sounding whispers. He radiates intimidation, with a huge black eye and what looks to be a makeshift cast made of duct tape around his right wrist. The three of them turn to look at you and you get the sense Minnie had the right idea in asking if she should knock first.

Your little one quickly latches onto your leg, turning timid in the space of a second and you can't really blame her. Part of you wants to turn and run.

Karen recovers first, breaking away from the two exasperated men to step towards you and going into receptionist mode, "Hi. You were here last week to meet with Matt, right?"

"Uh, yes, that's right. Is he, uh, available?" You ask, feeling like you no longer know how to speak English. The energy in the room is not a pleasant one and you very much feel like you've interrupted something important.

"He's on a call currently but I'll let him know you are here," Karen replies in a voice far kinder than what she uses to address the men behind her a beat later. She turns to them and points to the office you know is not Matt's. "In there. Now."

Foggy throws up his hands, like he's frustrated with whatever is going on and disappears into the other room. The man you don't know doesn't follow, eyes on you and your daughter as Karen crosses the room to knock on Matt's door before opening it and slipping into the office. You quickly decide you are not going to make eye contact with him, instead ducking your head and putting a comforting hand on Minnie's head. She's practically hidden herself behind your legs, clinging to your pants so tightly you fear they might rip.

"I like your boots," the man says into the quietness. You expect him to sound like gravel, but his gruff voice is rather soft, and you get the feeling he understands how to talk to children "My daughter used to have boots like those."

Part of you wants to tell the man to not talk to your daughter, but that would be rude and just because he looks like he's been through the ringer doesn't mean he's a bad man. You decide to let her determine how she wants to proceed.

You feel Minnie poke her head out from where she's hidden herself. At first, you don't think she's going to reply, as you know how she is, but she surprises you yet again by mumbling out, "They're froggies."

"Yeah? You like frogs?"

Mouse somehow tightens her grip, "I like animals." She presses her face against your leg, then admits, a little louder, "we're gonna to the zoo for my birthday."

That makes the man smile, and that changes his whole demeanor. Suddenly he looks friendly and kind and not like he's likely to stab you, "That's a good place to go for your birthday. How old are you gonna be?"

Before she can respond, the door to Matt's office swings open and Karen stalks out, followed by Matt, who seems much less agitated than everyone else. The blonde points to the unknown man, a little scowl on her face, "What did I say?"

The man holds up his hands defensively, stepping away from Karen and towards the office he was previously told to go in, "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'm going." That doesn't seem to help soothe her at all, as she grabs the man by the bicep and frog-marches him to join Foggy, closing the door behind them.

"They didn't make you wait long, did they?" Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him. There is a cut on his lip that wasn't there the last time you saw him, and your instinct is to ask if he is okay, but you don't know if you are at that level with him yet.

So instead, you address his question, "No, no, we just got here."

He motions back to his office, a smile spreading across his face, and you almost forget about the cut, "Come on back and we can review everything."

Minnie lets go of your pants only to take your hand again and you lead her into the other room. As you pass Matt, she looks up at him and gives a tiny wave.

"Hi, Mister Matt."

Matt's shoulders visibly relax at her greeting, and you can't help but start to smile, "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Good! I maded you pictures," she says proudly. That causes him to pause as he starts to follow you into his office. You can tell he is surprised by the news - his voice gets a little choked up when he responds.

"You made me some pictures?"

"They are very good pictures," you advise, squeezing Minnie's hand slightly before letting go, "Do you want to tell Mister Matt what you drew for him?" She nods eagerly, so you point to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go sit like a big girl and you can tell him."

She makes a dash for the chair, and you take the time to address Matt, "I'm sorry, I should have called ahead."

He shakes his head, and as he walks past you to go behind the desk, he reaches out and brushes his hand along your arm. A little shiver runs up your spine at the touch and you tell yourself the action was so he could orient himself. "Not a problem, I knew you were coming. How is everything?"

"Everything is good," you reply, a little shyer than you intend to. "I, uh, have everything for you. Is there anything else I need to fill out?"

Matt shakes his head, "Just a signature and date. You've done all the work for me already. I don't think I've ever had to file where I don't need to actually do anything but sign the document. It's a refreshing change."

"Do you know how long it will take to process?" You ask as you move to join Minnie in sitting. "The website gave multiple timelines and I just want to be realistic."

Matt takes his seat with a cocky grin, "Not long at all, I know a few judges I can ask to push it through."

You flush at the idea of him asking a favor to a judge on your account, "That's not necessary, Matt, I don't mind waiting."

He shakes his head, getting that soft look again, "I don't want to wait. I want it to be official in the eyes of the government."

His words make you feel even warmer, and you distract yourself by pulling the file with all the paperwork out of your purse and pass it over to him. "Minnie's additions are at the bottom of the stack. The last five pages"

His fingers twitch slightly, and you wonder if he wants to flip right to those. You get your answer quickly.

"Minnie, is it okay if I go over the paperwork with your mom before you tell me about your pictures?"

"It's okay!" She replies, her voice much more cheerful now that you are alone with Matt. "Do you needs help?"

Her sweetness makes Matt smile more and he shakes his head, "Not right now, sweetheart. I need to read, and I can do that with my fingers, but after that you can help with some other things."

"Okay," she says happily, kicking her feet a little bit.

You catch her attention and motion to your purse, "Do you want a toy while you wait?"

She shakes her head and beams up at you, "No thank you, I'm a big girl!"

Both you and Matt chuckle at her declaration and he moves to open the file.

"There's multiple copies of everything," you tell him as you move onto business, "One printed text and one in Braille for the courts and the same for you. I have the same at home, as well. They are bundled in packets. The court papers are on top, Braille first."

He thanks you then begins to read the forms. Mouse sits up straighter in her chair to try and see what he is doing. She can just peek over the edge, and she watches in fascination as his fingers move over the pages. You wait quietly, not wanting to distract in any way.

"Everything appears to be in order. We will just need a signature," Matt says after a minute.

"Should I do that now?" You ask. The response is him offering you a pen, so you lean in to sign the various forms. As you set each document aside, Matt adds his own signature. It is silly how giddy you feel just having the forms finally completed. You don't know how long you've had just blank copies, waiting to be filed.

"And done," Matt says with a final flick of his pen on the last page. "I'm going to the courthouse on Tuesday, so I'll get it processed then. I'll push to get an updated certificate as quickly as possible."

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person. This isn't some dream or far off fantasy. Matt isn't just saying he wants to be Minnie's father. He is following through, with urgency. This is something he wants and it's almost surreal for you - you are so used to promises being broken and no one being on the same page as you in your desires. Even if this is all for Minnie and not for you, it is still on the edge of overwhelming for you.

You never thought you'd be so happy over paperwork.

"Thank you, Matt," you whisper, leaning back into your seat to sit properly.

Immediately, Minnie parrots you, thanking Matt even though she has no idea what is going on.

"No, thank you. Thank you both," he says, and you wonder if he is also holding back from smiling. He gathers the papers and sets them aside before running his fingers over the folder you gave him and addressing his daughter. "Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to come tell me what you drew?"

You expect Minnie to stand on the chair and even prepare yourself to balance her, but that does not happen. She hops down and scurries around the desk to be at Matt's side and a moment later, he is pushing his chair back and she is climbing up into his lap. Embarrassment rushes through you - she's only ever behaved like this with you. She actually used to fuss and cry if anyone else tried to hold her. You haven't seen her sit in anyone else's lap since she had a say in who gets to hold her.

"Minnie!" You scold but Matt quickly shakes his head as he helps her up.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he tells you even though he looks completely shocked. If he wasn't her father, you wouldn't allow this, especially with someone so new to her, but he is her father, even if she doesn't know, so you don't tell her to get down.

Instead, you give a stern frown, "Minnie, you still need to ask before climbing on anyone, okay? Can you apologize?"

Your little girl nods, then looks up at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Matt."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Like I said, I don't mind, but your Mommy is right, and you should ask so I know you are there. Next time, you'll know. Now, your Mommy said there were five pictures. Which do you want to start with?" He asks, scooting his chair back to the desk while wrapping one arm around Minnie's waist to keep her secure.

Once she's able to, she leans in and picks up the first drawing in the stack. It is the family portrait, and you quickly get your phone out so you can record this interaction as Minnie lays out the picture. She then takes Matt's free hand and guides it to the paper before letting go to point at the circle that represents him.

"This is you," she tells him. He quickly finds where she is pointing and begins to trace the figure.

"That's me?" And there is definitely more than a little bit of emotion in his voice.

"Uh-huh, and that is me and Mommy and we're gonna go to see the duckies. Mommy said we can go again. But we're gonna get ice cream too. And a balloon," she says, moving her little finger all over the page.

You watch Matt's finger follow hers - first over the doodle of himself, then Minnie's, and finally yours. Then, he traces back to the center figure. "We're holding hands?" He asks tentatively.

"Yup!" She answers, popping the p. "Mommy says we gotta hold hands if we go outside."

Matt licks his lips a little and you see his muscles flex under his jacket as he holds Minnie a little more firmly to his chest, like he doesn't want to let go of her. "That's a good rule."

"Mommy makes good rules," your little one replies wisely. That makes your ego sing a little. Mouse has always been good at doing what she's told, and you are proud that she understands your rules keep her safe.

Before she moves onto the next picture, you gently prompt her. "Sweetie, was there something you wanted to ask Mister Matt?"

Matt's head jerks up at that, looking right to you with brows slightly knit. Minnie bounces in his lap just a little, squirming so she can turn to look up at him, "I'm gonna go to the zoo! For my birthday! Do you wanna go?"

His lips part in surprise at the question and before you know it, he has both his arms wrapped around Mouse, hugging her to him. She instantly responds, looping her little arms around his neck and squeezing back. He rests his cheek against her head, and you see him slightly rock her from side to side. "I would love to go with you to the zoo, sweetheart."

Minnie giggles into his neck and you one hundred percent know that the transition to suddenly having two parents is not going to be hard for her at all. It might be confusing because Matt won't be living with you, but you have never seen her so comfortable with someone who isn't you. You know it's not just because he gave her a toy. They just click together so well.

You switch from video to your camera so you can sneak as many pictures as you can of Matt and Minnie hugging. They've completely forgotten about you and that is a-okay.

In this moment, nothing else matters to you - not the strange man in the other office or the devastation a few states over or all the other trivial things that nag you and make your stomach turn.

Your world is right in front of you and for the first time in a very, very long time, you really, truly believe everything is going to be just fine.

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then I met you #theres plot hints

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iril-the-warlock · 1 year

Text

Consider: Danny's the spawn of all Kryptonians, sorta, (I'm behind on my superman lore, but hear me out)

Danny gets sent on a long term mission for clockwork, he's promised that he's going to be returned to his age and time when he gets back, but he needs to "finish the bootstrap, Daniel."

Cw helps convince him since he gets to go to space(!!) And live on an alien planet(!!!!) And only really needs to make exist there for a few years before coming home, and he doesnt need to protect his secret there either, he can be both Phantom and Fenton. (Clockwork does not elaborate on hoe long "a few" is.)

Danny gets sent to Krypton, years and years and years before the explosion that doomed the planet. Long enough back that he's one of the first establishing the great houses.

They ask his name, which he replied Daniel. It's written as Dan-El due to a translation error when his paperwork was first formalized, the reading listing the "i" as a hyphen in the Kryptonian language. Danny shrugs and goes on with it, since Dan-el was still better than just Dan.

Years are passing for Danny, he finally settled in, becomes a scientist studying the stars, started a family because if CW hasn't picked him up yet, there's not much likelihood it's happening right away.

He's eventually picked up after his kids are grown, his wife and husband have passed, and his age is showing in human form. He leaves a legacy, the great protector and scientist, with eyes of blazing green and crystal blue, hair of brilliant white and darkest black.

#iril speaks #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #crossover #danny fenton #dc comics #superman #Krypton

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lunarw0rks · 7 months

Note

your taste in those spicy links is divine 😇✨

mind sharing more gaz/simon coded ones?

TWITTER LINKS [ GAZ + SIMON ]

if the videos don't load — make sure you're logged into twitter!

warning(s): literal p0rn, f/m, no hard kinks included!

•‧₊˚⊹ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+) ‧˚₊•

SIMON

『 simon finally agrees to punish you.

if it can be called that. he's typically all about pleasure — a true service dom for you. tonight isn't any different; you wanted a taste of the cruel side of him. bent over on the bed, facing the silky sheets that are doomed to be wrinkled and stained by the end of it. he refuses to finger you until you're properly reprimanded. instead, his digit swirls around your soaked entrance, applying just enough pressure to make you beg.

the spanks to remind you to behave; the teasing finger to teach you patience. 』

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════════════════

『 one of simon's favorite positions.

paced, tender deep strokes that caress the right spots inside you, leaving you speechless. leaning your head back to kiss him; him leaning down over to do the same — while his buff body embraces you. a necessary addition to your bedtime routine, and perfect for those lethargic evenings with him.

fingers thread between strands of his blond hair, body sunken into the bed. 』

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════════════════

『 how simon greets you after getting home late.

you dosed, expecting him back an hour prior. it wasn't a big deal — most likely traffic or pesky paperwork. you awoke when the bed dipped under his weight, instantly greeted by his hand between your thighs. you lay on his stomach, his fingers dipping into your wetness, whispering into your ear an apology for being late.

his thick fingers get to work, playing with the desperation seeping from you. 』

GAZ

『 it's never "just a cuddle session" with gaz.

spooning him as he thrusts at a lazy pace, an arm snaked around you like he does when you sleep next to each other. he's pulling you tight against his body and then some, suckling your neck and kissing your earlobe. and you, pushing back against him — his toned, bronzed chest caressing your back with each stroke.

somehow, you always end up like this on the sofa. 』

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════════════════

『 gaz absolutely adores when you sit on his face.

smothering his mouth with your heat, his skilled tongue writing poetry along it. his lips, silky and dripping with translucent strings of your arousal, rolling down the sides of his face — staining the pillow behind his head. you grip the headboard for support, though he would never let you fall.

it's only fair to reach back and stroke him; feeling how he's rock hard just from eating you out. 』

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════════════════

『 gaz being an absolute menace when he gives you head.

in the hotel room with him, the morning of a charity event with all his colleagues. you know everyone can hear you through the paper-thin walls, perhaps even all the way down the hall. his coos against your heat when you whimper and choke on pleasure. too euphoric to stifle; worth the stares when you go down to the lobby for breakfast.

a mocking, supportive hand on your back as his tongue slops on your cunt. 』

═════ ‧₊˚⊹ divider cred. - cafekitsune ‧˚₊

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ohdeerfully · 13 days

Note

How would Alastor react to reader who is a cat demon and gets comfortable to try to cuddle with him?

hmmmmmmmmmmmm here are some headcanons! im sorry its pretty short (,: this leans more romantic, but could probably be read platonically/QPR i think

Alastor x Cat Demon!Reader

Alastor x Reader (headcanons/fluff) TW: none

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Surprising to nobody, it would take Alastor quite a while to become comfortable with you even sitting any closer than a foot to him

He had immediately noticed your tendency to cuddle up and nap against anything soft when he first met you, so he took care to not make himself seem like a cozy spot

For some strange reason, though, you were extremely interested in him from the get-go

The first few tries you made at leaning against him he was quick to give you a dangerous look, a threat, or to simply move away so fast that you fell on your side in defeat

After a lot of careful interactions, mutual respect soon developed between Alastor and you

First, whether platonic or romantic, you soon found yourself able to sit with your body leaned up against him while you both focused on separate tasks

He would often be doing some sort of paperwork, writing a script, or reading, while you simply relaxed up against him with your own book

Or napping. You love to nap

Next came the actual cuddling

This point took actual ages to get to, and you couldn't rush it, lest you destroy the progress you had made so far

Though, when you finally did... despite being Hell, cuddling with this man felt like Heaven

Maybe it was the knowledge that nobody else could get this close to Alastor, and nobody ever had, even when he was alive

Or maybe you just liked him

Plus, despite his previous efforts, Alastor was surprisingly rather comfortable to cuddle with

He was much taller than you, and could easily wrap you up in his arms and legs

He prefers big spoon, if anybody was curious. Though it's probably obvious

With the combination of his comfort and the light rumbling from his chest as he usually hummed, it was no wonder you were so keen on cuddling with him

You were always quick to lull into a daze, purring away with your tail curled comfortably over one of his legs or arms

He would never admit it, though maybe it was clear with him letting you get so close, but he also really enjoyed these moments

Your soft fur that he stroked his fingers through, the light tickle of your tail occasionally flicking, and the soft ambience of your purrs...

He found you quite adorable

He grew to love you, as much as Alastor could love, and would always welcome your presence against him

As long as it was private, of course

I don't think anything could make Alastor show any sort of PDA beyond a pat on the back or ruffle of your hair

If he saw you making your way up the hotel stairs, he would try to wrap up whatever task he was doing to join you in bed

When you got comfortable against him, he would either hum a soft tune or read aloud to you, to which you would respond with comments on the narrative till you eventually fell asleep

Alastor wouldn't sleep, it was hard for him to come by, but he found your warmth comforting through the otherwise cold, long nights

If you were to be redeemed, he knew he would miss you for the eternity he was doomed to spend in Hell

He wasn't sure if he would let you be redeemed. He didn't want you to leave

You were probably stuck with him, honestly

You couldn't complain, though.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #alastor x reader fluff

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somber-sapphic · 1 month

Note

hi it was me who sent in the request it was a emily x reader and the prompt was i am not sick i think , it was the reader who is sick thank you 🫶

A Call For Rest

〖Summary: After an exhausting week Emily convinces you to go home and rest.〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: Emily x sick R〗

〖Notes: I'm so glad that reached you! And so so sorry about my accidental deletion, I truly don't know what happened there. I sincerely hope this makes up for it <3〗

“Hey love,” Emily murmured, appearing in the doorway as if she’d teleported there. You hadn’t heard her walk up, though you couldn't hear much through your clogged ears. You set your pen down and wiped your nose on your sleeve, too tired to care about how gross it was. The world was sort of hazy, your mind cloudy.

Writing up case reports was probably not the best idea considering your current mental state but you remembered enough to feel confident that you could go over notes with JJ to get the full story.

The media liaison would likely be okay if you just dropped the papers on her desk, she had already checked in on you twice and tried to force you to take some medicine. When you refused she’d settled for leaving a cup of tea on your desk. You drank a little bit but forgot and let it get cold, cold tea wasn’t appetizing.

“Hi Em.” You croaked, the words grating across your throat. Swallowing was already painful enough but talking seemed impossible. Emily walked into your office and leaned against the side of your desk, looking down at the papers that you were scribbling on. She frowned at the illegible writing, trying to make out even the simplest words. You typically had great penmanship, rivaling even Hotch’s, but this was bad.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t feeling very well?” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, concerned that she could feel the heat through your shit. It was a light shirt, but still, she shouldn’t be able to feel your fever through a layer of fabric.

“I’m fine, just tired. Long week.” You were trying to use as few words as possible while still speaking somewhat normally but with the way your voice sounded, it didn’t matter. Nothing could save you from the reality that you weren’t going to win this fight. The last thing you wanted to do was leave work unfinished to pile up, but Emily didn't look like she was letting you get away that easily.

“Hmm, long weeks don’t usually make me sound like I gargled knives for fun. And you feel pretty warm. And your nose is running.” If she kept listing off things you were doomed. You wiped your nose on your sleeve again and sniffled, not removing your eyes from the papers. It was getting harder and harder to focus, everything was so blurry, and your head felt so groggy.

“I‘m not sick.” You protested, swiping a hand across your eyes in a useless attempt to clear your vision. You refused to accept that you were just lightheaded and no amount of blinking or rubbing your eyes could fix that. Emily sighed and laid her palm on your forehead, making a face at what she felt.

“I think your fever would beg to differ. You aren’t getting much done here anyway. I can’t read any of that.” She gestured to your sloppily written paperwork, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She’d had enough experience trying to reason with you that she knew you responded better to directness than to dancing around a subject.

You frowned down at your desk and coughed into your fist, your lungs protesting the extra effort they were being forced to use. Emily put a steadying hand on your back, providing support as you choked on whatever your body decided it needed to hack up.

When you were finally finished you looked up at her to find dark brown eyes staring back, filled with concern.

“Please, you need to rest. You’re so pale, you look like a ghost. I don’t want you to pass out here.” She caressed your cheek, leaving her palm there as an extra show of her love for you. She wasn’t always the best at offering comfort, she had trouble figuring out how to, but this she could handle. There was an easy fix to being sick and she was more than willing to take care of you through it.

“What about-”

“I’ll take care of it. Let Emily take you home, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you.” JJ’s voice startled you, making you jump a little in your seat. God everyone was just popping up out of nowhere, maybe you were worse off than you thought. Emily smiled at the media liaison and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug.

“Come on love. Let’s go home. I’ll help you walk.”

“I don’t need help walking.” You protested as she lifted you from your chair, proving that you not only needed help walking but you couldn't stand on your own. After taking a few wobbly steps under the concerned gaze of JJ, Emily picked you up deciding that it would be the easiest way to get you to the car in a timely manner.

You whined but settled into her arms, relieved by the warmth of her touch. She was warm and soft and strong enough to carry you easily. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and closed your eyes to protect against the harsh light of the bullpen.

“Feel better hun,” JJ said softly, squeezing your arm on your way out. You tried to nod but your head was too heavy. You were practically asleep by the time Emily reached the parking lot, but you didn’t mind. Though you would never admit it you were eternally glad that Emily had shown up when she did, any longer and you were confident you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk.

#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #fever #sick reader #sick fanfic #caretaking #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds sickfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #sick you #sick fic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

Note

Suddenly I’m a sheep baa

You have such a way with words!!! I love the image of konig sitting down, cooing at his flock, while reader stands to the side, watching… does he even know? Does he know the effect he has on you? Would he even care, if he knew that you’re completely ruined over watching him work… (would he treat you the same, one hand gripping your legs and hands out of his way, tucked up against his chest as his other hand wanders down your chest and against your cunt,,,)

Ahem

Baa.

Baa!!! YEAH I can see it happening in bed as soon as he gets his freak on. It's purely subconscious too! But then I was also thinking how König must be a total softie with all animals... Treating everyone gently and lovingly while reader is pouting & looking from the sidewalks like a third wheel :( Time to pull out the big guns!

CW: Pet play (attempted), dom/sub undertones (implied)

You see him feeding apples to horses, watch how they burrow their muzzles under his arm, he’s always gentle with each and every individual as long as they’re animal and not human... Even the old farm cat gets more love and attention than you :(

He nearly trips on it one morning because it’s purring and meowing at his feet – if a human were to do that they would get slurs and yelling and spit landing on their face... This furry little beast only earns a soft rumble and a low, affectionate “You naughty little devil,” as thanks for showing this bitter cruel man some love.

You even see him pet the cat absentmindedly when he’s doing some paperwork in his office, the loud purrs of the animal making you absurdly jealous. Hearing the roaring content of this cat as a broad, sturdy hand softly pets it from head to tail stirs emotions in you that are wildly inappropriate. You would kill to get this man to pet you, these animals don’t even know how lucky they are...

And maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s missing, seeing only men and animals here at the farm. The only woman, namely, you, is always walking around in rubber boots and dirty oversized overalls. He avoids you like the plague, and treats you more harshly than the young rascals sent here by the state... Men are visual creatures, so perhaps it’s no wonder that he takes no interest in you, some weak miss farmhand who always looks like she came from feeding the pigs... Which is your job here, actually, because König never allows you near his precious horses, let alone the delicate sheep.

So one day, you sneak inside his office and climb on his desk in nothing but your black sheen underwear, now with the addition of a black cat’s tail attached to the bum, with your make up done and wearing a pair of cute little cat ears. This must be the silliest thing I’ve ever done, you think as you push your tits invitingly together while propping yourself on the table like a spoiled house cat would, with your “paws” prettily together and your butt ready to lift from some good petting you fervently wish you’re about to get.

Heavy boots echo in the hall like doom just as you start to shiver from cold. Your heart nearly shoots out of your chest and your tits threaten to spill out of your too small bra, your rival is nowhere to be seen and all the sheep have been sheared so you hope you’ll finally spark this man’s interest in some intimate fun with an actual woman...

He walks in, comes to an instant halt on the door when he sees you, and from the looks of it, the poor man suffers a silent heart attack from seeing a half naked woman on his desk. He freezes right there on the spot, draws air so sharply you can hear it all the way to where you're sitting – all over his papers, innocently like a naughty feline would.

He looks both shocked and furious, but not a word of warning comes out – and how could he be mad at a pretty little thing like you? Donning your silly outfit consisting of black underwear, black cat tail and black cat ears, you even drew yourself some thin whiskers with your black eyeliner...

Your eyes are shy but accusing, they simply ask, why haven't you paid attention to me? Why haven't you played with me, turned me around in your lap any way you like? Where are the soft gazes and shushed praises that belong to me?

And while you were invisible to this man before, you now have his full attention.

His eyes fly to your tits first, then to your tail, they caress the dip and swell of your waist, rise to adore your rib cage and the fluttering pulse at the hollow of your throat, they steal a peek at your cute little ears... There's an endearing flash on softness in his eyes, and when he meets your stare again, he swallows so arduously that the sound of it is audible and thick. A chill runs down your spine as you realize this might not only be the first time in a while that he's seen a half naked woman... This might be the first time he's seen a half naked woman ever.

You give him your most demure gaze, bat your lashes slowly like cats tend to do when they see someone they appreciate and trust, and whisper:

“...Meow?”

#pet play is one of my fav kinks but I've never written for it before??#high time to unlock that feature #könig x reader #tw: pet play

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octopiys · 2 months

Note

Hi dear! I’m not sure if you still take quotes but I have one if you do.

“Maybe it’s an illegal Immigrate spider”

Incorrect Quotes as CoD characters

It's been a while ain't it

Soap: imagine Ghost just went up to Colonel König, y'know, cus they've never interacted before, and just says "I'm sexually attracted to you, and want to wear your skin"

Soap: how-

Soap: how do you think he'd respond?

Price:

The rest of the goddamn world:

Gaz: what the fuck goes on inside your head

Rodolfo: the bank man wasn't doing his job today, and now I'm behind in paperwork

Valeria: I have a solution

Rodolfo: please don't kill him

Valeria: I no longer have a solution

Soap: you know how in despicable me, Gru steals the moon?

Gaz, dreading the answer: yeah?

Soap, staring dead at Ghost: I'm gonna steal his straightness

Gaz:

Gaz: why

Price: oh look over there

Price: yep there it goes

Price: my final fuck to give

Price:

Price: farewell, fuck

Roach: how do you keep ending up in these situations?

Gaz, standing on a chair: because I don't like them, okay?

Roach: buddy you're it's roommate now

Gaz: nuh uh, spiders don't have roommates

Roach: where do you think it came from?

Gaz: I don't know

Gaz: maybe it's an illegal immigrant spider, trying to hide here for safety

Roach: and you want me to-?

Gaz: squish it. No safety here.

Soap: none of yall were dancing as hard as me, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and.... and König

Shepherd: and what do we say when life disappoints us?

Roach: called it!

Shepherd, shooting him: no.

Roach:

Roach: ...called it..-

Ghost: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Price: ... Your what?

Ghost: My friends.

Soap: is he saying “friends”?

Gaz: I think he's being sarcastic.

Alejandro: No, no, no, this is delirium, he's cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Ghost! All of your friends are in this room.

Alejandro: let's play rock paper scissors. You go first.

Graves: rock

Alejandro: paper

Ghost: Do you even know what an amulet is?

Alejandro: Of course I do! I eat amulets sometimes. I like the ones with cheese and onions!

Ghost: Alejandro, those are omelettes.

Alejandro: Oh. Then I’ve got nothing.

Rodolfo: I'm gonna kill you

Graves: get in line!

Ghost: Pros and cons of dating me.

Ghost: Pros. You'll be the cute one.

Ghost: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

Alejandro: Goodnight to the love of my life, Rodolfo, and fuck the rest of y'all.

Soap: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Horangi: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

Graves: Oh no! I’m doomed!

Laswell: Seriously? All you have to do is not insult Soap at his own memorial service.

Graves: Exactly! It’s impossible!

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jahnavisurenda-21 · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel|Alastor X Reader

Right now in love with a deep home type comfort, to sleep in rainy nights, Tea and deep voices.

This is presenting Alastor Scenario when your unable to sleep because it is hell, and some of your tapes broke.

You woke up with cold sweat, wavering breathing it kept happening, you opened your curtains a little bit to see the horrible view.

The Hazbin hotel was like a gold in such a messed up, chaotic ruckus of a place. Where people just live accepting that there souls are doomed for suffering, and nothing was going to change that.

You were still trying to steady your breathing, you brought your legs closer wrapping your arms tightly around it, "You could just drop dead, stop... Stop harrassing me. Drop dead. Drop dead." You would whimper.

3 Am no one would give you a second glance, you shakily brought out the rust radio out, you loved the cracky noise, you loved his voice.

You turned on one of his radio shows, he had put some recipes trying to focus on his heavy voice, trying to get yourself to sleep. The dreams would haunt you the moment you turned of the radio.

"Ahh my dear can I come in?" It was Alastor, but what could he want from such a time. He said he was working for some paperwork to run the hotel.

You shakily tried to dress yourself up, pulling the door knob.

"Oh my dear, you haven't slept again. The little radio off yours has been a little disturbing. All though I love it when people admire my work! But you see my dear it's interfering with the latest podcast I must get done by the next day!"

Your face showed tinge of embarrassment but actually hearing his voice right now was especially calming.

"I'm so sorry, now you have to start all over again." You weakly told, you wanted him to stay but you knew he would avoid any physical touch.

"Well my dear since you enjoy my little radio shows here so much what if I take you to my little office hmm?"

Alastor knew you suffered from nightmares, and you had been putting his tapes on repeat at the same time for two weeks.

Once you entered his office, you caught splashes of red, but a little comfortable corner called you over where you quietly sat by, waiting for him to go back to letting his voice out.

It was like Alastor knew, he needed to get you to sleep besides you were tired so hearing him for a few sleepy half an hour or more.

The last thing you felt was a blanket draped and then it was only the sound of typewriter echoing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel alastor #Hazbinhotel romance #alastor x you #alastor x reader #insomia #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction

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notjuststardust · 10 days

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Bucket Time Trafalgar LawxReader

Reader eats too much brownie batter and suffers. Inspired by me at least once a week :). Keep in mind this is not proof read and its literally the first forethoughts that belched from my brain rot of this concept so take it easy if there are grammatical errors, please. Might upload an edited 3rd draft once I get there but for now enjoy this fluffy slice of doctor Law taking care of his sweet tooth crewmate. Fluff and some angst if you squint.

TW: Mentions of vomit, hypersensitivity.

“What did I say about consuming raw brownie batter?” Your captain growled, your locks in hand as you wretched into your bucket for the fifth time tonight.

“Not to eat it in copious amounts..” you whine, giving him your best puppy eyes in hopes of some sort of appeasement.

“No I said don’t eat it at all.”

“But-“ you’re caught off guard by another wave of nausea, dipping your head back over your bucket and spilling your guts. As irritated as your captain is, he can't help but feel a swell of pity about your predicament. You always licked some of the brownie batter from the bowl on baking day despite his strict orders not to but Shachi and Penguin had dared you to down the entire thing. You’d done it in 60 seconds.

That had been the beginning of the end of your wellness.

“S-sorry,” you sniff, tears slipping from the mere action of relieving your stomach, grabbing for the clean cloth on the sink to wipe your mouth. “Wont do it again.” You mutter weakly, head nearly drooping from tired yet Law knows one thing and that is that your sweet tooth always makes you a liar.

Once your fever goes down and he discharged you to your quarters when next month rolls around you’ll forget all about this and indulge once again in the chocolate goodness.

It’s too late for another scolding so he chokes back a comment, replacing your bucket with a new one. As the sink rolls on he watches you in his peripheral, barely upright from dehydration and exhaustion. He’s shocked you haven’t dropped by now. You’ve had a fever since 5 o clock when Shachi and Penguin had finally decided to relay your secret sickness to the captain.

You’d made them promise not to because you looked ‘gross’ and smelled bad but it was no worse then what he already was used to. Now it was 1am and you were barely upright, staring off in a daze of impending doom toward your bucket.

“Go to sleep.” It sounds more like a threat than a suggestion. You huff and squirm.

“If I fall asleep I might miss the bucket. I’ve never missed the bucket before.” He freezes mid scrub, cranking his head to look at you. Sensing his stare you stare harder at the bucket, trying to ignore the intensity bubbling his steel gaze molten.

“Your health is not something to make a gamble of,” more than anger is evident in his command, making you shrink. “If you miss I’ll just clean it up,” he gestures to the cot pulled out in his office for you. “Now sleep.” He gruffs watching you stand and sway out of the bathroom, careful to avoid even a glance his way.

He relaxes once he thinks he’s won.

That’s until he’s droning through paperwork only to find you wide awake at the crack of dawn, refusing sleep even still. “(Y/N)-ya.” Your eyes snap shut. He stands from his desk.

“I haven’t missed the bucket before, I won’t miss it now!” You levy and that’s the hump that breaks the camels back. All the worry, stress and disrespect peaks spilling out of Law’s throat as projectile, emotion and tired clouding the real contents that spew fourth.

“Are you that naive? I’m a doctor. Without proper sleep your body won’t properly restore your ATP. You’ll just keep getting worse,” he snaps, hackles raised as you turn up your nose in refusal. “If you’re really going to act like such a child I may as well drop you off with strawhat-ya! Tell me, is that what you want? You might fit in with the band of idiots..” The tension clenching his chest into what had felt like chronic hypertension eases with his outburst for only a moment.

There’s only the brr of the submarine and the shuffle of a body, yours, flipping over to face the wall. Law opens his mouth to take it back but you speak first. “If that would be easier for you, I accept your decision, captain.” Your body trembles and it’s not from the uptick of waves. Caging a hand over his mouth Law tries to concoct something to salvage his harshness with you. A snore graces your lips and whether artificial or not the doctor decides is best to simply say nothing for now.

—-

Law returns from breakfast to find your cot freshly made and… empty. Oh no.

He starts with your bedroom. You hadn’t been down for breakfast and he hadn’t taken your temperature just yet. Had you seriously left before he could make sure you were okay? No, you were sensitive, a bit silly but you were not an idiot. Not like he had said at all. After checking just about every room the doctor freezes something blatant clicking in his brain. He murmurs a quiet ‘shambles’ switching himself with one of Ikkaku’s trinkets only to enter as a closet door slams shut.

“Ikkaku.” The ginger slowly turns her head, face pale as she giggles too much. He doesn’t need to say anything because he scanned the room the minute he’d switched. You’d been found a while ago.

“H-hey captain, what are you doing in here?” He almost states his business fully but the only worry on his crewmates face is for fear of you being found. If you were sick Ikkaku would most definitely rat you out.

“Tell (Y/N)-ya I need to see her in my office when you see her.” He flicks a telling glance toward the closet before hesitantly excusing himself and like clockwork he hears the closet reopen.

“He wants to get rid of me. Doesn’t he?” He goes frigid at your words. You were notably the most sensitive of your crew members. Emotion and human behavior were your strengths so how could you think such a thing? Nevermind, of course you thought that, you’d thought he implied it last night.

Law stands outside the door, frog in his throat when you open it. You don’t seem shocked that he’s out there but you don’t seem happy either, eyes scanning him over for any sense that he had in fact heard your words. “Sorry.” You apologize almost instantly, eyes set to the ground in silent shame. There was more color to your face and you smelled like waffles.

You’d kept something down, good.

“Room.” He murmurs, and you both reappear in his study. You blink off the still heavy nausea and plonk into a chair. He takes your temperature and administers a subcutaneous antibiotic. The silence is loud.

“I left a note with my vitals for this morning.” He eyes his desk and sure enough there’s a note written in big letters, ‘Need some space. BPM 68….’ He swallows as he reads through your detailed note. You didn’t leave a single thing to the imagination because you knew he’d worry. Law nods, then he slides back into his chair.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I know I might now show it but… you had me worried.” You nod but do not move, do not even offer a single joke. He feels his heart clench. “Do you remember much?” He offers as a transition, folding his hands together on the table.

“Everything.” It’s not an admission but it sure feels like it. His tongue fumbles into knots and you notice. “You were tired.” You say so quietly, eyes set on the medicine cabinet for comfort instead of him.

“That’s no excuse,” he counters just as quickly wanting so badly for you to just look at him, see his side. “You are not an idiot and you have no place on any other crew.” Your brows pop and you let out a low whistle.

“That’s rich.” It almost sounds bitter but there’s the twitch of a laugh.

“Care to let me in on the joke?” He inquired cooly, forcing himself not to take it personally, yet. You consider yourself.

“Well,” you shoot a glance Law’s way. “I mean it would be great petty revenge to join Luffy’s crew.” Your captain facepalms.

“(Y/N)-ya-“

“If you wanted to visit me I’d make sure to get real cozy with Luffy so I didn’t have to talk to you.” You tease as he snorts. The thought of you and Luffy together gave him a headache, not to mention his stomach soured at the mere idea of you brushing hands and stolen glances at one another.

“You hate me that much, huh?” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. There’s quiet.

“I could say the same thing to you.” You say it so casually he nearly chokes. He looks up to find your teasing feign gone. What was it you had said earlier?

“He wants to get rid of me. Doesn’t he?”

“I do not want to get rid of you.” There is conviction and then there is objective fact, this was that. Nothing you could say nor do could change the fact that even though you were sometimes a moron who ate too much brownie batter or an idiot that took bathes with electronics in the tub you were his problem and to be quite frank, his favorite problem.

Though you were an inconvenience at times you were a comfort to just about everyone on board. You brought a content that hadn’t been here in your absence and a space for Law to be palpable despite his hesitancies. Not to mention you always followed through.

A consistent chaos in a sea of abnormalities.

“Are you sure?” You murmur, words unsteady as the sea of ‘want to says’ in his head. He nods and reaches onto the desk, open palmed and flicking his pointer. His cheeks heat as you stare at his hand. Then you put a pen where he’s requesting your hand.

He about deflates.

“Y-yes, I’m sure.” He puts the pen away when realization his you like a brick.

“Wait-“ not wasting another second you take hold of his hand. He clears his throat as you stare at him for confirmation, gifting you a curt nod. Maybe he couldn’t say the words but you could read the in betweens.

“You’re my problem. Do you understand?” Bravely, he lifts your hand bringing it to his mouth. He hesitates as you gulp, careful only to brush his mouth over a knuckle once he's certain you don’t want to protest.

“Y-yes Captain!” You give him some sort of mock salute in the middle of your fluster, bashful as you realize what class of problem you were. He chuckles softly, releasing your hand.

“That means no more brownie batter,” he stands at full height, leaning over the desk to take in all your bashful glory. “That way I can finally taste those beautiful lips of-“ That’s when Shachi and Penguin burst down the door, parting the anticipatory union and turning you both red with embarrassment.

“Too much cookie dough!” They grovel, sloshing to piles of green much on the floor.

It’s bucket time again.

#trafalgar law #law trafalgar x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece imagine #law x reader #law trafalgar #one piece x reader

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xhoneygirlxx · 9 months

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my salvation

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: when it all becomes too much, you go to one person.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of mental health issues, depression/anxiety, panic attack. pronouns not used, Eddie calls reader pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey, etc.). modern au!, current technology and movies mentioned. bad writing and not proofread, if there are any grammar mistakes pretend like it's not there. pictures used do not describe reader in anyway, only used for aesthetic purposes. 18+ Minors please go away :)

a/n: as someone who deals with panic attacks, sometimes all i want is for someone to just hold me. there's moments where i don't want any questions asked because i can become embarrassed very easily which makes it worse. if any of you guys are dealing with mental health issues, just know that you are loved, and my page is always a safe place <3

The room is shrouded in darkness, the only light is the yellow shine of the streetlamp outside your room. When you got home from work, you told Eddie that you needed to lay down, physically drained from the week you had just had. Your boyfriend being the angel he is, helped you into the bed and placed a wet kiss on your head, telling you if you needed anything just to call for him and he'd be there.

Work had been a nightmare recently, your whole department swamped with ten times the work you're used to due to an overflow of paperwork. Your boss, Doug, had been an asshole to you in particular, even though you weren't even the head of your team. It didn't matter because he made it a point to single you out, ride your ass all week, and when all was said and done he never thanked you for all the late shifts you pulled to get it all back together.

The whole way home all you could think about was your bed, curling up under the blankets, and just turning the whole world off. It was Friday night and rather than spend time with your boyfriend that you hadn't seen all week because of conflicting working schedules, you were laying in bed too exhausted to do anything else.

However you couldn't sleep, your eyes screaming to rest, yet your mind couldn't shut off. There was something happening, swarm of emotions starting in your mind, and you were trying everything to keep out of the eye of the storm.

As you stare up at the dark ceiling you could feel the burn behind your eyes, crawling it's way out to be released. Your body was sinking further and further into the bed like a cement block. The tingle of your fingers had alerted you, setting off the bells and whistles in your head.

The room that you were once in is now gone, replaced by grey skies and dark water. The waves are choppy, quick, and strong, pushing you around like a ragdoll being chewed on by a dog. Kicking your legs and pushing your arms, you try to stay afloat.

The pounding of your heart is loud, beating deafeningly in your ears like a kick drum. It's constant, it's overwhelming, and you can't control it. Your mouth won't open, refusing to cooperate like you swallowed a bunch of super glue, trapping it shut.

While you're trying to save yourself from the dark abyss you were heading into, you couldn't feel your legs anymore, like you were paralyzed by impending doom.

Here in the dark bedroom that you and your boyfriend share, you lay motionless, tears rolling down the side of your cheeks onto the pillow under your head. Your chest is moving rapidly up and down, trying to find the air that it desperately needs.

You're trying everything that you learned in your years of therapy, repeating all the street names of your childhood neighborhood, counting Mississippi's, naming every thing you see, touch, hear. Every tool, every lesson that you were taught, and nothing is working. The life preservers and rafts aren't helping you survive these tsunami like waves.

You can't do this on your own, fight this battle without any teammates. You know the minute you try to stand your legs will give out on you, so there's only one thing you can do. Reaching your hand to the nightstand next to the bed, you pat your hand around trying your last weapon.

When you feel your phone in the palm of your hand, you move it quickly to your face. The words on the bright screen are hard to see with the way your neck is craned and the tears that are blurring your vision.

With whatever strength you have, you text Eddie, praying to the gods above that he can hear his phone over his video game. Without trying to alert him, you simply tell him that you need him to come to you.

You can hear him, laughing and joking with his friends on his headset. The voice of the only person who can save you from drowning is right behind that door, yet he feels so far away.

Shutting your phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, you continue to sit there in the darkness, tied down by the invisible chains your mind has wrapped around you.

No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get the oxygen to your lungs. The pounding of your heart is growing louder, the waves are getting stronger and stronger, pulling you completely under.

What you don't realize is that your salvation is right there, reaching his hand out and pulling you up from the angry sea.

Through the crashing sounds of the water you hear him, his voice brings you back to safety. When you open your eyes he's there, hovering over you, calling out to you like an angel at the pearly white gates.

"Baby," the mattress dips down beside you where he's sat, "Baby, hey, what's wrong?"

Blinking away the salty water from your eyes, you can see Eddie. His eyebrows scrunched up in worry, mouth pulled down with a frown. Because of the bright lamp he must've turned on, you can see his eyes, big chocolate pools swarming with concern, flickering back and forth trying to study your face.

The minute you register what's happening it all comes crashing down, the fear, the sadness, the worry. Your mouth that was once locked shut, has finally freed itself from it restraints. No words come out, only the loud sobbing that was trapped in your throat.

You can hear the shuffling from your boyfriend, the pressure of his full body weight next to you. He doesn't hesitate to hold you, engulfing you into a bear hug. You wish that you could feel your limbs, that the fuzziness that pulses through them would go away, so you could feel his touch.

Your whole body is shaking, releasing all the emotion that was trapped inside. The sound of your pounding heart is now replaced with your wailing that vibrates off of Eddie's chest. The cotton of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot, and you know that when you pull away you won't look pretty but you can't care, not when your lungs are burning with the sea water you swallowed while drowning.

"It's okay sweetheart, I got you." Eddie's voice rattles through his chest, right where your head lays. He repeats this mantra over and over again to you, like a prayer.

"I'm s-so sorry, Eddie. I'm so s-sorry." You don't know why you're apologizing and he doesn't question it, only rubbing his hand back and forth on the middle of your back.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie. P-please don't leave, leave me." The sentence is hiccupped through your crying. There's nothing for you to be sorry for, no reason for him to get up and leave you, but you can't help but repeat it over and over again.

Maybe you're apologizing because you hadn't seen him all week. Maybe you're sorry for interrupting his game session with the boys. Maybe you're apologizing to Doug for not being on top of your game at work. Maybe you're apologizing to the barista that made your drink wrong and having her remake it. Maybe you're sorry to yourself for putting up with every single thing and not sticking up for yourself. Maybe you're sorry for putting your body through torture everyday, not giving it the proper care and fuel that it needs to survive.

Every single little thing that's been bothering you is coming out now, the evidence on your boyfriends beloved Metallica shirt. You can feel your body deflate, like a balloon that's seeping out helium.

"Honey, I need you to take one deep breath for me. All I want is one big one, okay? Can you do that for me, love?" Eddie's tone is gentle even though he's demanding something you're not sure you can do.

With whatever strength you have in your body, you nod. With a whispered okay, he instructs you to follow him. His chest expands and then shrinks back down, your head moving with it. On autopilot you follow him, doing exactly what he did.

"There you go, baby. You're doin' such a good job for me."

The thing you once craved is now back within your body, your chest lighter than before. The muscles in your throat aren't tight anymore, allowing airflow back through. In that moment, Eddie's words and comfort is what brings you back down to your body. You can feel the warmth of his touch, his curls tickling your cheek.

Your teeth pulse with a heartbeat and your lips feel like your leg after you sat on it for too long. Everything is coming back to you now and you aren't scared anymore.

The cries that once ricocheted off the walls are now gone, the only thing that's heard is your breathing and small hiccups in between. There isn't a word spoken, not a question asked, just quietness. You push your face a little further into Eddie's chest, seeking refuge in the thing that just pulled you out from your demise.

After what feels like forever, Eddie finally breaks the comfortable silence. "You feelin' okay?" You don't respond verbally, rather nodding your head in response.

He hums, kissing the top of your head so lightly you almost miss it. He sits with you for a little bit longer before urging you up from your spot of comfort. Guiding you to the bathroom, he takes a cold wash cloth to your face, wiping away the stickiness of your tears and the mess of your snot with a light hand.

When you're all clean and your nose is blown, you follow him into the living room, where he sits you down. Turning off his game, he switched the tv to Disney plus to put on your comfort movie. Without another word, he moves into the kitchen where he opens and closes cabinets and the fridge.

Returning to the living room, he takes a seat right next to you, placing a plate with a sandwich on your legs. A cold bottle of water sits in his hand, you watch ringed fingers twist the cap off. Gently, Eddie puts his hands under your chin and lift the bottle to your lips, where you happily accept the cold water.

You eat your pb&j while watching Toy Story, taking a ragged breath every once and a while. When the sandwich is eaten, Eddie takes your plate and places it on the coffee table, and then hands you your water to take another sip.

Wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into the side of his body, gripping onto you like his life depended on it. You don't mind it either, sinking into him with ease.

"My lovebug, so strong and brave. I'm proud of you." His hand pets the top of your head, pushing any loose hair out of your face.

Everything is right again, falling into place where it should be. Not everything is going to be like this, you remind yourself, nothing is ever bad when you have the love of your life sitting next to you. His scent calming you, the beat of his heart music to your ears, the heat of his skin comforting you.

thank you all for reading! love you all :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things #modern!eddie x reader

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