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washeduphazbin · 3 months

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Electrifying

Vox x Fem!Reader

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

=_MINORS DNI_=

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Vox x feedreader, where he’s in his room with all those TVs, doing his broadcast or something? And the reader comes in and gives him a BJ (smut pls) I changed some things. I hope it's okay. Enjoy you, sinners. ;)

When you were alive, you weren't particularly religious; that's not to say you didn't believe in the concept of heaven or hell, just that you didn't care where you ended up. Your family was religious and cared more about scaring the word of the lord into you than your personal beliefs. In your head, you assumed that it was your anti-religious beliefs that would earn you a one-way ticket to hell. You didn't expect the reason to actually be the fact that you hacked yourself into a secret government database and ended up in prison, only to die in a prison riot that you played a part in. You become a number one target when you can hack the guard's security cameras.

Long story short, you died and woke up in hell. Then you hacked your way into working for one of the most powerful Overlords in hell, specifically by glitching out every one of his broadcasts until he noticed you.

Vox was going to kill you when he found out you were the one fucking up his tech, but you managed to convince him that combining your skills would serve him much better than slaughtering you and wasting your talent. He put your skills to good use; Vox could finally take breaks from constantly patrolling the cameras around Pentagram City and focus much more on improving his already well-renowned tech. It took a lot of sucking up and managing to break into some of whatever radio shops that were left in the city and breaking all the old-timey tech that things finally shifted between your relationship with the Overlord. Destroying those radios caused you to immediately jump on the Radio Demon's shit list, which as a normal Sinner was not ideal.

However, it jumped you up immensely on Vox's Employee of the Month board. In fact, you were almost sure you were his favorite employee ever.

He finally trusted you enough to show you the central hub where he ran his broadcasts, and you moved from ordinary everyday Sinner under contract to Vox's right-hand woman...who was...still under contract...semantics.

From that moment on, you were constantly by his side throughout every single one of his broadcasts. While Velvette might be the backbone of the Vees, you were Vox's hype woman, keeping him out of trouble while encouraging his most chaotic ideas. That's how the two of you remained for a consistent seven years until the Radio Demon hijacked Vox's broadcasts, showing all of Hell he's made his triumphant return.

"I can't fucking believe this, I've spent years building my empire, YEARS, and he thinks he can just take it from me like that? Does he even know who I am?" You watched your boss prepare for his late-night broadcast session, flipping switches and plugging wires into his head while ranting about that deer-faced fuck

"He's not worth it, Sir," You speak softly and notice his shoulders relax at your tender tone. "You've been running Pentagram City for years. At this point, your viewers aren't just going to turn you away for a guy who sounds like he swallowed a microphone instead of a dick." Vox snorted with delighted laughter as he sat down in his studio chair. His claws drumming on his metal table pinging around the studio, you stepped closer and noticed he was still trailing Aslastor's every movement on camera. "May I speak freely?"

He thought briefly before turning his screen to face you, "Well, spit it out then."

"Your 'hatred' for Alastor is boarding on obsessive; it's creepy and- don't give me that look." You huffed, crossing your arms, "You permitted me. Plus, you haven't even heard my suggestion yet."

"And why exactly would I let you suggest anything after your attitude?"

"It'll help you relax," your hands spread across his shoulder pads down his chest, and you could hear his processors running a little louder in embarrassment. "I have lived to serve you since the day you hired me. Let me help you." You purred softly next to his screen, nuzzling against the cool metal; you saw how his claws dug into the table before him, creating claw marks.

"I suppose if you're offering." He leaned back in his chair, wires still connected to the back of his screen; you hummed, moving in front of him. Subtly, very subtly, you pressed the start broadcast button with your fingers. He watched with spiraling eyes as you kissed the side of his screen before kneeling between his legs. You saw sparks of embarrassment erupt from his screen, "wait, what relaxation are we talking about here- fuck!" He cursed, voice glitching in a way he usually used to command attention from his viewers and Val. Your hands gently trailed over his belt buckle as you leaned against his thigh,

"Not yet," You teased softly, "Maybe if you're good." You whisper with a wink, kissing his inner thigh, "Don't you wanna relax?"

"Yes." He commanded you hurriedly before composing himself, "Be a good girl for me, baby. Help me relax."

"Yes, sir." You hummed, unbuckling his belt, and with a click of his metal clasp, his belt was pulled from his pants. You felt cold claws trace your cheek as you looked back up at him through your extended lashes. His screen was glowing a mesmerizing purple hue; he looked briefly awkward,

"Vox, say my name."

"Yes, Vox." You licked your lip, rubbing your thighs together; your fingers pulled and tugged at his pants in a way of asking permission. He gave a single head nod as his slacks were pulled down to his ankles. You heard him suck in through his teeth as you landed forward towards his boxers, admiring the significant hardness in his pants. "Look at you; you're so big already..." You felt drool pooling in your mouth, and he made another strangled electronic sound. "I can't wait to feel you in my mouth." He seemed to gather some confidence back as he gripped your hair, causing you to whine,

"If you're so eager. Then suck." His eyes flashed a plethora of pretty colors, and you felt your willpower drop, hypnosis, your heart skipped a beat as your underwear flooded with your slick. He grinned wickedly as your mouth opened wide, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you took him out of his underwear. His dick was unlike anything you've ever seen. It was long and curved, sticking straight into the air, showing his eagerness for your mouth; blue and red wire-like veins seemed to pulse with need. You leaned forward, nipping gently at his now bare thighs as he hissed in through his teeth before swallowing his length in your mouth. Vox groaned, a static sound; as soon as your hot mouth swallowed him, sparks from the monitors singed your skin. You smiled, knowing that his sounds and your actions were being broadcast for all of hell to see and hear, and he was none the wiser.

You felt his claws dig into your hair, pulling you forward, forcing you to take him deeper down your throat. You groaned around him and began to suck as deep as you could take him down your throat. "Fuck baby, fuck." He hissed as you looked up at him through half-lidded lashes, opening your mouth wider and running your tongue on the wire veins underneath his dick. He shuddered and choked back a moan as you pulled back. You began to kitten lick along the sensitive tip, swallowing the blue precum that was forming at the slit. He shuddered, the screen glitching a few times as it flashed different frames and colors. "Don't stop now; you're just getting better." He grinned crookedly, petting your hair like a pet; you gave him a look. He snickered, urging you forward back onto his dick,

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, your blue screen." You purred, licking your lips, gathering spit in your mouth before taking him as deep as your throat would allow. He was heavy in your mouth and throat, filling it even though he wasn't thick. His tip hit the back of your throat as you choked around him. He moaned heatedly, eyes squeezing shut as he jolted as you suctioned your lips around him. He was close, and you could tell his hips began to twitch as he attempted to fuck your throat. You took that as a sign to place your hand on his balls, squeezing them and caressing them through your hands; you were rewarded with an even louder moan and a shout of your name. "That's it, baby, I'm so close, harder. fuck you're such a good girl." That seemed to do it as you moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him as he shot his load down your throat, which you swallowed eagerly.

He tasted like you swallowed a packet of blue raspberry pop rocks.

You pulled off of him, licking your lips, and noticed his entire body was slack, face completely blue, sparks shooting out the back of his head. You giggled, turning to the screens and seeing yourself on camera; you hummed, hiking up your skirt and giving a little bow to the audience before ending the broadcast. You and Vox's phones were blaring with messages nonstop; you picked up Vox's while he was rebooting. You opened it quickly, remembering his passcode from when he told you to monitor Val's activities with the tracker he placed on the Moth. There were notifications from social media and Vox tech itself, which you promptly swiped away so Vox couldn't see them immediately when he rebooted. About a hundred texts from Velvette and Valentino in the Vees shared group chat.

Velvette was screaming about all the social media images she'd have to wipe to protect Vox's image and how much of an idiot he was for not double-checking that he wasn't on air. While Val was giving a rating while sending a play-by-play and ranking your technique, begging Vox to let him use you in his next shoot. You giggled, leaning down to snap a picture of you with a still rebooting Vox and sending it to the other Vees before throwing the phone away. If things go well, he'll fuck you on air next; worst case scenario, you'll double die, known as one of the best dick suckers in hell, probably only second to Angeldust.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #smut #vox x reader #vox x you #vox x y/n #vox x reader smut #x you #x y/n #reader insert #reader insert smut

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ystrike1 · 3 months

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My Beloved Oppressor - By 서사희 (8.5/10)

Having royal blood is a curse if you have no protection. A death sentence if the people are angry. Our protagonist isn't even a Princess. She is merely the daughter of a Marquis. She is also the only royal left, in a newly democratic nation. Her revolutionary husband is keeping her alive for some reason, even though he hates royal blood.

Annette Rosenberg was a pawn. A blushing bride. A pretty idiot. Her only real hobby and talent is useless. She was never strong academically. She was the perfect noble wife. Pretty, useless, and skilled at making pretty noises on the piano.

It was not her fault. She didn't know the men in power had pushed the people too far. She didn't know a revolution was brewing. Heiner Valdemar courted her and married her to spy on her father. Nothing more, nothing less. Now she is the last royal in the country, and people cry for her blood every single day.

Heiner Valdemar supported all of the death. He made the country better for the people, and he sacrificed her family to do it. He tells his stupid princess the truth. Her beloved father had child slaves. Child slave assassins and soldiers who died often. He was one of the only survivors, and he only survived because he was useful. A genius with a strong body.

His friends were fodder.

He did get revenge for them, and yet Annette Rosenberg is still alive.

He was a great actor too.

Annette Rosenberg truly loved him.

When the royals began to die out she trusted him wholly. She only, finally noticed his true loyalty when his love faded away. Yes, the second he stopped spoiling her. When he stopped drowning her in love she did two seconds of research.

She didn't randomly meet her husband.

He carefully planned their love and marriage in advance.

He's convincingly cruel.

He really is, but there's one problem.

She's not dead.

Everybody wants him to divorce her as well. Annette Rosenberg even asks for a divorce, right after the truth comes out. Anneli is another revolutionary. An inspiring political figure for the people. Annette Rosenberg is well aware that Anneli doesn't like her, but Anneli also doesn't love Heiner.

It's all politics.

She's tired.

She's tired of being afraid. Being the last royal makes her suspicious. Everybody thinks she's using blood money or spare child soldiers to stay alive.

The screwed up part is they're actually right. Heiner, a former child soldier, is protecting her as if she is his master. Not his wife. He doesn't even go near her most days, but he is personally in charge of her fragile security situation.

Other young nobles managed to escape tp foreign countries. A friend comes to pick Annette Rosenberg up, but Heiner won't even let her go then. This offer of freedom is a tipping point.

We see why she's not dead.

Little Annette Rosenberg was very cute. She played on her special pink piano with her special teachers, in her special dresses. She laughed in her ribbons, and she ran through the hallways.

She had an admirer.

Heiner Valdemar used to spy on her, in between deadly child soldier missions.

He wants to believe he's punishing her.

He wants to believe that torturing her with loneliness is his goal, but she's been his only love his entire life.

To him, the romantic part of marriage doesn't matter. Being her husband and fake lover was such a strange and twisted reward, after years of observation.

He doesn't want to let her go.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon

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tac-the-unseen · 22 days

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Gifts the slashers would enjoy

Fluff

Minor updates for formatting

Micheal Myers:

•Arts and crafts supplies

-He's enjoyed making Paper Mache masks most of his life. It's very likely that he enjoys other forms of art as well, but couldn't express that in the ward for fear it would be taken away.

-Dr. Loomis sucks

-Giving him art supplies now, would end up in him making his art in secret. He feels embarrassed to like such a simple thing. That shame is intensified if you ask to see it. He'll end up leaving it out so you can see it without directly showing it to you

•Candy Corn, circus peanuts, and Crunch bar.

-Are they his favorite? No. But they bring back good memories, and for Michael, that's enough.

-would spend a good chunk of time snaking on the sweets while you spend time with him

-Can be bribed into a lot of shenanigans with candy

•Homemade meal

-He rarely had anyone make him dinner. His mom being a ‘working’ woman ment that he had to fend for himself come dinnertime.

-Knowing that you wanted to, and found time to make him dinner make him feel that icky (Nice), bubbly feeling in the center of his chest

-minor Headcannon: first time this happened Micheal thought he was having a heart attack.

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Horror movie merchandise

-Their collectors. If you manage to get your hands on something they don't have, they'll give you anything you want in return.

-will trip over themselves trying to replay you

-Stu would actually kiss the ground you walk on if you ask

•Jewelry

-They both appreciate necklaces, bracelets, and RINGS

-Stu is a gold guy, Billy is a sliver guy.

-They’re like crows. Anything shiny will end up in their pockets. Imagine Stu showing off his rings like a newly proposed to woman. Fawning over the design and/or jewels.

•knives/knife sharpener

-They collect knives of different quality and look

-they better ones they use to hunt. The best ones and the weaker ones are put on display like trophies.

-No matter the quality you get, it's the fact it came from you but they care about

Thomas Hewitt:

•Flowers

-Thomas is a sucker for old ‘traditional’ romantic actions

-Seeing you hold up hand-picked flowers makes his heart gush. He thinks you look so precious, wanting to make him happy.

-sometimes he'll catch you, out of a window, picking flowers just so you can give it to him. He'll never tell you, and will always act surprised when you present the bouquet.

•Bones

-its simple and an abundant resource at the house. There's always bones somewhere, and Thomas knows how to use the bones

-They’re good for making repairs, as tools, and as decorations

-You 10000% have a bone bracelet that Thomas made for you when you guys started to get more serious

•Desserts

-Thomas won't admit it, but he has a sweet tooth. Why do you think Luda mae spends so much time baking?

-While a good pie is enough to send this man to his knees, any other baked good will do.

-He likes cherries and strawberries, but because of how expensive they are he doesn't tell anybody that it's his favorite. He doesn't want anybody ‘wasting’ money or resources on him.

Bubba Sawyer:

•Flowers

-Bubba loves flowers. Any kind of flowers is enough for him to let out squeals of happiness. He loves seeing them around the farm, and plants them around the house when he has spare time.

-So when you go to town and come back with a bouquet of flowers just for him, nearly crushed you with hugs.

-Keeps them alive for as long as possible then perseveres them in notebooks and in salt

•Quilting supplies

-Bubba is really good at handling leather. Those human skin masks are hard to make, and human leather is so incredibly delicate.

-On top of that, he is a family man. He want to make things that help his family. So he makes blankets!

-its a fine craft and perfect in enhancing his skills.

•Good old quality time

-He loves spending his time with you! If he could spend all day with you, he would.

-So sitting down and cuddling means that absolute world to him. He cherishes his time with you and it what he looks forward to everyday. It's why he wakes up in the morning. It's why he tries hard everyday. He wants to spend every day starting and ending with you!

Bo Sinclair:

•Tools

-If your in the workshop often enough, you'll know what ends replacing.

-Bo is as stubborn as stubborn comes, so he won't get new tools until they physically can't do their job anymore.

-If you get him new tools he will begrudgingly take them, but after an hour or two he'll find you just so he can thank you ‘properly’.

•Cigarettes

-The boy smokes

-Don’t know what else to tell you

-Will kiss you when you give it to him though

•Kids Toys

-Sounds weird, but having his childhood taken away from him leaves him wanting to fill up the gaps.

-when looking through a victim's car you found a two handed water ring-toss toy. when you showed Bo He just rolled his eyes and kept working on his Truck. You started playing with it when at the shop, even leaving it there on a few occasions. Every time you left it there, He would take it and sneak into the back room of the shop to play with it.

-it brought him immense joy. One day he forgot to put it back, and when you asked about it he berated you for losing your things and expecting him to keep track of your belongings. He never told you, and would rather die than admit it.

Vincent Sinclair:

•Art/craft supplies

-Its a given, really

-He very rarely get new art supplies (if you don't count corpses) so it’s nice to get replacements.

-Will take anything you give him, honestly

•Books

-Vincent isn't always making art. Sometimes art can get boring for him, or he hits a rough patch and doesn't know where to go from there.

-A book can easily help, Whether it's just something else to do or it helps him overcome his art block. He will oftentimes get up from his work space and find another spot to sit down and read.

-He loves it when you read to him. It's nice to just listen to something while you work.

•Hoodies

-with his combination of body issues and wanting to be cozy, A hoodie seems to be the best option.

-Even though it is hot in Louisiana, The cool basement and even cooler nights need a little warmth.

-loves the feeling of the softer cloth and with it being a present, makes it all the better.

Lester Sinclair:

•Lip balm

-Lester has a hard time with hygiene. No one ever really taught him how to take care of himself.

-So when you notice Lester had chapped lips and gave him some lip balm something in his brain short circuited. The fact that YOU want to help him, makes his heart swell.

-keeps it in his pocket and constantly reapplies it

•Car freshener

-Even with him blind to the smell of death, the hot Louisiana sun will intensify the foul smell 10 fold. You knew it was bad when you could smell the truck before you could see or hear it.

-You ran out of town and bought several packs of air fresheners for his truck. You told him that you do love him, just not the smell that lingers when he gets home from work. Lester doesn't want to make you gag every time he gets into bed with you.

-He likes the Strawberry, sugar cookie, and fresh linens scent best

•Dinner

-He’s not the ‘I better come home to a hot plate of dinner' kind of guy, but he really appreciates it when he does. Even though Bo is a semi-good cook, anything after years of having it will get boring.

-Having you cook for him (and most likely his brothers) is a nice change of pace.

-Will eat anything you cook. Whether it's ‘good’ or ‘bad’ he will happily eat it all.

Billy Lenz:

•Being read too

-Isn’t a physical present but he loves your voice. He wants to read but has A) a hard time focusing and B) has a hard time reading in general

-Having you read to him calms him down and gets him settled enough to sit still and/or do an activity smoothly

-Reading to him 100% makes him fall asleep in the end. And boy does this insomniac need it

•Crochet equipment

-After learning how to Crochet he can't stop. He runs through String like a mad man. He has made you 6 sweaters and increasing in quality over time

-Will give you a list of all the colors he wants and will wait patiently on your bed for you to come back.

-Gets ridiculous excited when he's given new supplies. Will be your lap dog for weeks after

•String lights

-Doesn't have to be Christmas themed, he just really likes the lights. Like a moth drawn to flames.

-likes to fall asleep with them on, it's like Billy’s own big night light.

-Has gotten too close to them and accidentally ripped them down. He tried to hide them so he didn't get in trouble, and actually cried when you found out.

Brahms Heelshire:

•Clothes

-You wondered why his clothes were so ill-fitting for a long time before you realized, that's his dad's old clothes.

-coming to that realization you manage to figure out his proper size and (after some minor fighting) when out to get him a much needed upgrade. When you came home he was waiting by the door, waiting for you. Giving him his new clothes was like telling him you would never leave again, he was ecstatic. He ripped the bags out of your arms and ran into his room so he could try them on

-He fell in love with the sweaters you got him, with a nice couple pairs of khakis. It wasn't much of a transition from his old clothes but that's just what he likes.

•Movies/Movie night

-The only movies he's seen are from his childhood, and he can barely remember them. His parents didn't think movies were healthy for a growing boy, so they only allowed him books to pass the time

-When you proposed a movie night he had a couple questions and even a bit of hesitation. “What if they melt my brain?” He asked with genuine concern. After you posed another question back “Why wouldn't they have melted my brain yet?” Did he trust you.

-You started with childhood classics before getting into the more ‘adult’ stuff. He loved every minute of it

•Picnics

-While Brahms isn't a fan of going outside, the garden is the only exception. You wanted him to go outside because orange juice can only do so much for a vitamin D deficiency.

-He said the only way he would go outside was if you had a Picnic and put his sunscreen on. Making sandwiches with chips and then lathering him in 80 SPF he went outside in a tank top layered with a crocheted vest and shorts, had him outside fairly quickly

-Now he wants a picnic every summer

Hannibal Lecter:

•Wine

-After dating for a while you started to notice where Hannibal got his expensive foods and wines

-you also noticed what he actually liked and what he was just experimenting with. While fruity and floral flavors were always favored, herbs and Nutty wines were much lower on his list.

-With that in mind you got a Cherry lavender wine from Greece. When you gave it to him he was actually shocked you were paying attention to his preferences. He told you most people just buy cheap wine and expect him not to notice.

-The wine you picked out now has a permit spot saved on his wine shelf.

•Paper bouquet

-Paper made into the shape of different flowers all wrapped up in another paper tying it all together. It's cute, classy (though he would never display it openly), and will never wilt!

-He had told you about the complexity of life using flowers as an example and how they wilt. So you decided to make flowers that can't wilt to not only sass him but to give him something

-He put them in a paper vase he made (in only what you can assume was) in his free time.

•Friendship bracelets

-What was originally a gag gift turned out to be one of his favorite gifts.

-You thought there was no way in hell THE Hannibal Lecter would wear cheap bright string woven together, but you were wrong.

-You had made some friendship bracelets out of old string you found in some old stuffed away box and laughed at the idea of Hannibal finding it in his desk drawer. So you did just that, just to come to the shocking realization that during a meeting with the F.B.I he was wearing it, hidden under his sleeve. You had a very hard time containing your laughter that night.

Will Graham:

•Quality time with you!

-Life has always been stressful for Will. So some alone time with you is always a great gift.

-No need for fancy dinners, events, or holidays. Just sitting down to watch whatever pops up on the T.V screen is enough for him.

-Bonus points if the pack joins in for a cuddle session!

•Handwritten letter(s)

-Having a man with a different then most emotional attachment style is hard. Will might not always what to be physically touched or poked at. Sometimes he doesn't even want to talk (Common coping mechanism for Autistic people)!

-But even when he gets like this, it's still nice to get some reassurance. You started writing him little notes around the house a while ago and slowly you noticed Will’s mood improving significantly.

-He found it very sweet that you were taking the time to meet him on a level he was comfortable with. The two of you don't speak about it often but the notes persist.

•New fishing gear

-anything fishing related is always an appreciated

-New lears, poles, vests, hooks, bait even. Anything even if he already has it, he will take it happily

-He’ll take you fishing with his new gear you got him and will happily teach you if you don't know how to fish

The Lost Boys:

•Jewelry

-All four vamps love jewelry of any kind

-All of them have earrings, bracelets, and necklaces so why not give them Something they can say they got from their S/O!

-David and Marko prefer bracelets, David’s gloves wouldn't mesh well with rings, and he thinks a necklace might make him seem less intimidating. Marko would chew on a necklace and worse could get caught during a fight. Rings would be damaged either due to said fighting and/or his painting. Bracelets are that perfect in-between!

-Dwayne and Paul like Rings for different reasons. For Dwayne Rings have that ‘marriage’ aspect to them. Not to say rings mean marriage, but historically speaking…it's like putting your claim on him and he's thriving for that.

-Paul likes rings to fidget with. He already has rings he uses as ways to occupy his hands when something or someone isn't. Will 100% show off his ring you gave him to the others.

•Gift boxes

-The boxes full of pictures, candy, and other meaningful things

-They all go feral over those boxes, especially the first ever box. It was filled with your own little doodles, candy you know they like, mini bottles of whiskey, and a note telling them about how much you care about them and where to meet you for the night.

-if you plan to do this more often make sure each boy gets to keep something or they WILL fight over it.

•ScrapBooks

-Memories bunch up and fade when you're a vampire. They can't always remember the little things, so having a book of all those memories they can look back at is great idea!

-You even found a creative way to include them in pictures! They can't be seen in photos, but they're shadows can! You take pictures under street lamps and make silly poses. You have a picture of Paul dramatically falling into Marko's arms while Dwayne and David kiss either side of your face.

-All those silly pictures combined with your and Marko’s creativity ends up in some fun, colorful, memories

Thanks for reading <3

(You know I write a fuck ton when It started glitching out. Like it would freeze while I was formatting it correctly 😭)

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mysteryshoptls · 19 days

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SR Azul Ashengrotto - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 1～

Ghost Chef: Alright, today we'll have you make "rice croquettes."

Azul: Rice croquettes, hm. The ristorante my mother manages serves them, so I have tasted them before.

Azul: If I recall, the crisp shell on the outside and the soft risotto on the inside, as well as the different possible combinations of ingredients within it, make for a fantastic dish.

Ghost Chef: Your family runs a ristorante? Then you must be very knowledgeable in the kitchen. This course may be too easy for you.

Azul: Oh no, not at all. I appreciate all the guidance and encouragement you can give me.

Ghost Chef: Come now～ Don't be so modest! Alright, time to start cooking.

Ghost Chef: First, you'll make the risotto. Mince the onion and fry it in the pan.

Azul: Mince the onion, right. …Just in case, I will go over the proper procedure once. Could I ask you to confirm if what I say is correct?

Ghost Chef: Absolutely. It's good that you don't try to breeze past the basics.

Azul: After cutting the onion in half lengthwise, place the cross-section face down on the board. While leaving the root intact, make cuts at even intervals from the edge to the center.

Azul: Then, turn that onion 90 degrees and cut perpendicular to the previously made cuts… Does that sound correct?

Ghost Chef: Yep, that's perfect. Make sure to cut them in 3 to 4mm intervals so they're big enough to taste and use for forming the balls.

Azul: Understood. Now then, I hold the knife in my dominant hand, hold the onion with my other hand, and slice with the knife vertically…

[slip! roll…]

Azul: …Pardon me. It seems I didn't have a tight grip on it.

Azul: …Now then, I'll try that once more―

[slip! roll…]

Ghost Chef/Azul: …

Ghost Chef: Uhhh… Azul-kun, by any chance… Do you not have much experience in cooking?

Azul: That's correct. I am hoping to improve myself in this regard slightly through this Master Chef curriculum.

Ghost Chef: So, when you said you'd appreciate my guidance and encouragement, you really meant it!?

Azul: Indeed. Is something the matter?

Ghost Chef: You were carrying yourself with the confidence of a seasoned chef… So I completely assumed you were already skilled in the art of cooking.

Azul: I am able to discern the difference between something tasting good or bad, but cooking is outside of my wheelhouse.

Azul: And thus, I enrolled in Master Chef, as I believed that since this course is geared towards those unfamiliar with cooking, it would be a perfect way to start gaining experience.

Ghost Chef: I see�� I find your approach commendable, Azul-kun. You're completely different from the owner of the restaurant I worked at back when I was alive!

Azul: The owner of the restaurant from when you were alive? …Could you perhaps elaborate a little more on them?

Ghost Chef: That owner couldn't cook anything at all, but would always find something to complain about my dishes.

Ghost Chef: Every time they tried to lecture me, I'd fume and think, "They're all talk, they don't know a thing about the amount of effort I had to put into this!"

Azul: …I think I understand. Just the other day, one of the staff members of the Mostro Lounge said something similar to me.

Azul: Something along the lines of… "MAAAN, AZUL, ALL YOU DO IS YAP YAP YAP EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T KNOW SQUAT 'BOUT COOKING～"

Ghost Chef: Is that so? Then… Is that the reason why you decided to try to gain cooking experience?

Azul: Indeed. Although, I wouldn't say I'm quite so immature as to take such an emotional outburst that seriously…

Azul: But I find it vexing to even be told such a thing, so if someone believes I lack experience, then I should work at it to mitigate that. Thus, I've come here.

Ghost Chef: Good for you, Azul-kun, listening to what your staff has to say and putting yourself in their shoes.

Ghost Chef: Hearing that situation, I'll make sure to do my best and explain everything to you from a chef's point of view.

Azul: I can't possibly imagine that there would be any similarities in the point of view between the temperamental guy from my dorm and a chef that worked at a five-star restaurant…

Azul: But this should surely be a good experience. I am fully open to your instruction.

Ghost Chef: Sure! If you ever have any questions, you're always free to ask me anything.

Azul: Thank you.

[sizzle, sizzle…]

Ghost Chef: Looks like the onions are cooked. Time to add the rice into the frying pan.

Azul: Understood.

[rice pours into the pan]

Ghost Chef: If you stir too much, you can damage the rice. The key here is to gently cook it over low heat.

Azul: Chef, what constitutes low heat?

Ghost Chef: You'll want to set it to about where the tips of the flames aren't touching the bottom of the pan.

Azul: I see. I'll lower the heat slightly, then.

[click…]

Azul: Perfect. Now I just need to stir the wooden spatula slowly so the rice doesn’t get dama… HUH!?

[cracking sounds]

Azul: In the short amount of time that I took to adjust the heat, the rice started sticking to the pan…!

Azul: If I were to try to forcibly peel it off, the rice could be damaged and there is a risk that the quality of the dish would be lowered.

Azul: However, if I were to factor in the cost of the ingredients and the time until judging, I won't be able to remake this from scratch…

Azul: Chef, is there a way to recover my progress when the rice has stuck to the frying pan?

Ghost Chef: Yep. Just add a bit of the bouillon we were going to add later, and slowly peel it with your spatula.

[sizzle!]

Azul: It came off so cleanly…! Even in the face of a mistake, you can quickly turn things around… As expected of a pro chef.

Ghost Chef: Ahaha, you must be exaggerating! Although I can't say I dislike your compliment.

Azul: Not at all, this was very eye-opening for me. Please, let us continue.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef―Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 2～

Ghost Chef: ―While the risotto cools, why don't you select what you want to put inside the croquettes?

Ghost Chef: Just like you said earlier, part of this dish's fun is the different combinations of texture and flavor that can be made from the chosen ingredients.

Azul: I can absolutely do that. Fufu… I should be more capable of this process.

Azul: For this dish, there will be 3 croquettes on 1 plate. …With that in mind, I would want to create some kind of theme to bring them together.

Azul: My chosen theme will be… "A Subtle Surprise."

Azul: The risotto has a simple tomato-based flavor… Therefore, with these standard ingredients, the results could go either way.

Azul: I'll have to weave everything together and consider good texture, how fulfilling it is, and that hint of surprise― All while not deviating from the recipe…

Azul: …Alright, I'LL GO WITH THESE!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Silver: …Something smells good.

Silver: I do hope I can live up to what's expected of a Master Chef judge…

Azul: Pardon me. I have brought your dish... Oh, I see, so the person who ordered this was Silver-san.

Silver: So, you're the chef, Azul? I'm looking forward to tasting it.

Azul: I, too, look forward to your tasting it. Here are the rice croquettes that you've ordered.

Azul: These have just finished cooking, so the insides will be hot. Please take caution when eating them.

Silver: Got it. Then… I'll try them now.

Silver: [blows on croquette]

[bite, chew, chew…]

Silver: Oh… There's cheese inside of this one. Delicious.

Silver: This one… There's shrimp. This is also delicious.

Silver: Finally, the third one… I see it has quail egg inside. Right, all three were delicious.

Azul: …Huh, are those your only thoughts?

Silver: Yes. It's was very good.

Azul: Please think a little harder. Isn't there anything else, like comments on specific ingredients you liked, or certain surprising flavors?

Silver: Specific ingredients I liked…? That would be the quail egg.

Silver: It was nice to see the meal I chose was not only filling, but filled with highly nutritional eggs.

Azul: YOUR MAIN TAKEAWAY WAS HOW FILLING IT WAS!? …Ahem, pardon.

Azul: Perhaps I should ask this differently. How did it taste?

Azul: The first one you tried was filled with cheese. I mixed basil into it to help its compatibility with the tomato-based risotto.

Azul: For the shrimp one, I added fried garlic chips to it to give it a little flavorful kick.

Azul: Finally, the boiled quail eggs. I flavored it with a tad bit of ketchup to add a bit of extra favor.

Azul: With that added moisture, it should have softened the flakiness egg yolk slightly, and make for a more enjoyable flavor…

Silver: I see, you put a lot of thought into it.

Silver: Even after your explanation, I still don't really get it at all, but everything truly was delicious.

Azul: YOU DIDN'T GET IT AT ALL!? That's absurd…

Azul: If the judge himself doesn't understand, then all of the extra efforts and ingredients that I put forth into it will have all been for naught!

Ghost Chef: Come now, Silver-kun is saying it's delicious, so I don't think it was all for naught at all.

Azul: However, if my efforts truly couldn't be conveyed… Did I not use enough basil, garlic, or ketchup?

Ghost Chef: I feel like you wouldn't want to put too much in it, either… It can be difficult because everyone's tastes are different.

Silver: My apologies. Perhaps if your judge had been anyone else, they would have been able to fully taste the efforts you put into it the flavor.

Ghost Chef: But you thought it was delicious, right, Silver-kun? That means that Azul-kun's flavoring was still spot on.

Azul: Right… That's right. Putting aside any improvements needed for the cost in time and ingredients, I was able to actually put together a dish that someone considered delicious.

Azul: If I can keep improving my cooking skills little by little, then I won't ever have to hear someone say I'm just "yapping" ever again!

Ghost Chef: Ahaha… Even though you said you wouldn't take something like that seriously… Looks like those words really did have a hold on you.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #silver #twst azul #twst silver #twst translations #twst masterchef

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dc-marvel-life · 7 months

Text

You Are My Family Now

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: Natasha is dating someone that the team does not like and tries to get Natasha together with Bruce.

Word Count: ~1.5K

A/N: This is for @waltermis. I saw that you looking for a story like this, and I love the idea so much I made it. Lisichka - little fox, I found this online so I am not 100% sure if it means little fox.

Warnings: The team is mean

You are an ex-assassin/spy for hire who was awfully good at her job. Your biggest enemy was the Avengers, but they never were about to spot you. You caused many injuries and near-death experiences for them, so you were on their naughty list.

No one in the world was able to get close enough to catch you, well no one but Natasha Romanoff. You also have a soft spot for you. You could never pinpoint exactly why but you had the biggest crush on her. It was the way her body moved against you. It was always a dance between you too, but you always got away. You couldn’t tell if you were just that skilled or she let you go on purpose.

You thought that she liked the cat and mouse game that you both played just as much as you do. It was also the way she talked to you. No matter what the situation is or what you said, she always had a sassy comeback that made your heart skip a beat.

—

It all changed one night in Paris. You were working a job where you needed to take out a mob boss who was staying at a hotel nearby. You were just about to walk up and take him out when Natasha came out of nowhere and stopped you.

A fight ensued and you got badly injured. You couldn’t finish the mission with how bad the wound was. You needed to get to your safe house immediately and take care of the wound before you bleed out. You somehow managed to get to your safe house alive, but you weren’t alone. Natasha was able to follow you back.

“Looks like you got sloppy there Silver Fox,” Natasha says once she enters your safe house with a gun in hand. You smile at the way she says your code name. She says it with so much lust behind it. This time you couldn’t say anything smart back at her because you were bleeding to death.

Natasha looked at you and saw that you were in real pain. You are lying on the floor with your hand on the wound trying to put pressure on it but slowly losing it. Just like you, Natasha had a soft for you too. Natasha puts down her gun and treats your wound. Once she finishes patching you up, she puts you in the bed and finds some food and water for you.

“Don’t scare me like that again Fox” Natasha says handing you water.

“Wouldn’t plan on it. Then who would you track across the whole world to see” you say taking the water.

“By the way, my name is Y/N,” you say realizing that you never knew each other names. Just code names Black Widow and Silver Fox.

“My name is Natasha. It is nice to finally meet you” Natasha says with a small smile. You both stare at each other’s eyes then something clicks. You both lean in for a kiss that feels like it lasted for hours. That night you both made love in that safe house until the sun came up.

—

That became your guys' routine for a few years. You guys will find each other then find a hotel or safe house to make love all night and leave in the morning. During the years that you both have been hooking up with each other, you started to fall in love with Natasha. After you guys finished, you would talk about everything. She told you about the Red Room and how she lost her sister. You told her about your backstory and why you are an assassin/spy.

You wanted to do better for Natasha, so you slowly started to take fewer and fewer jobs until you were completely out. Natasha was able to track you down in Jamaica. Once she got there, you told her that you were about of the game and wanted to do right by her. Natasha was so happy to hear it and officially asked you to be her girlfriend.

You said yes and you guys spent a week in Jamaica. Natasha didn’t know that you planned for this whole week. It was the best time of your life.

A month later, Natasha told the team that you guys were together and they weren’t happy about it. You have caused so much damage to the team over the years and it can’t be fixed anytime soon.

You understood and asked for a chance. The team didn’t want to give you a chance, but Fury wanted to keep your talents so he let you on the team with pushback.

You were happy that you could actually do some good in the world and be near your girlfriend. After a few months of staying there, you and Natasha moved into the same room together. Everything was going great with you two.

—

Now you are on a solo mission while the team is at the compound having a chill night drinking, playing games, and watching movies.

Natasha is drinking with the rest of the team but she is waiting for you to be back. You told her tonight when you come back you are going to cook her a nice meal to celebrate each other. So Natasha is trying not to drink too much unlike her teammates who are drunk right now.

“You know Nat, you shouldn’t be dating Gold Fox,” Tony says slurring his words.

“It is Silver Fox and she has a name,” Natasha says defensively.

“Look what we are trying to say that she isn’t good for you. Why not date Bruce? He is a better fit for you” Wanda says to her best friend. Natasha rolls her eyes at the thought of it. She only wants to be with you. It was no secret that Bruce has a crush on Natasha and everyone is for it but you and Natasha.

“No, I am in a happy relationship” Natasha bites back at her team.

“How about you kiss to see? You may never know. Now kiss” Tony says and the whole team starts to chant ‘kiss’.

“Hell no!” Natasha says but now Bruce is drunk and has some confidence. He comes over to where Natasha is and pulls her into a kiss with the team cheering.

Then you hear a loud bang. The team turns around to see you standing there with bags of groceries. You drop the bags and leave the compound.

“Look at what you guys did” Natasha gets up to try and catch you but you are long gone. Natasha sighs and starts to pick up the bags that you dropped. Natasha let out a sigh because she was looking forward to dinner. You always made her the best food and she wanted a night alone with you. You've both been on missions back to back and needed it.

Natasha picks up the bags and sees a small box. She opens the box to see a beautiful engagement ring. It is the ring that Natasha has been describing you for months now.

“You guys are all dicks!” Natasha screams and takes off to the landing bay. She knew exactly where you were going. The safe house in Paris.

Natasha takes a small jet and goes to you. She gets to the safe house and sees you on the bed in a ball crying while holding a picture of you two on your first date.

“Lisichka” Natasha comes over to you and holds you tight. She wipes away your tears.

“Why would you do it” you say in a small voice.

“Lisichka, it didn’t happen that way. The whole team was drunk and wanted me to kiss Bruce. I said no and he came up and grabbed me. He kissed me, but I didn’t kiss him. These lips are only for you” Natasha kisses your cheek. You turn around so you are looking in her eyes to see that she is telling the truth, and she is.

Natasha likes to think that you can’t tell when she is lying but you also do.

“Now were you serious about this” Natasha holds up the box.

“Yes. I was supposed to ask you about a beautiful dinner and it be romantic” you say sadly.

“Well, the answer is yes. And this is just perfect for me” Natasha kisses you with all the passion that she has. You hold her close so she does go away.

“Let’s run away together,” Natasha says once she breaks the kiss.

“Baby, no,” you say and Natasha looks at you confused.

“As much as I would love to run away with you. The Avengers are your family. You even got Yelena back in your life. I don’t want to be the reason why you have to leave your family” you say holding her cheek.

“You know that you are my family now too right” Natasha gets the ring out of the box. You stop her and put the ring on her.

“That’s very true,” you admire her with the ring on.

“Fine, but I will make them like you,” Natasha says in all seriousness.

“I bet you will,” you say and kiss Natasha again. You guys spend the night making love to each other in the same place that started it all.

Masterlist

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel mcu #avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanova #marvel fic #natalia romanova #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader

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hubristicassholefight · 7 months

Text

Swordswoman Showdown Round 4/Quarterfinal

Kikunojo (One Piece) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Kikunojo

She is a samurai and a retainer for the Kozuki Family, serving as one of the Nine Red Scabbards, a group of samurai that protect the Kozuki family and their country. She's a very skillful samurai, and she and her group managed to delay and hold off the main villain of the arc, (which was an almost insurmountable task for even the main character) and survived the experience despite her horrible injuries; She's canonically and openly trans! And she's gorgeous. And huge... She's 287 cm tall, which for the USAmericans in the audience is 9' 5". She's simply the coolest.

She’s a samurai and fights with a sword; tall trans woman <3

Legendary devoted samurai!; She's 2.87m tall, a time traveler, and not even losing an arm in the middle of the fight stopped her- she had it imediately cauterized and went back to the fight.

She's a lady samurai! Pretty and very skillful with her katana!

She is a samurai who was sent 20 years into the future to avenge the death of her lord; She’s so tall and canonically trans and I love her

She’s a badass samurai who fights for what she believes in and to help people. She is known as Kiku of lingering snow. She’s also canonically trans

She's a time traveling trans samurai, the only woman in a group of 9 legendary samurais; Her arm was chopped off by the biggest baddie so far and she continued fighting, isn't that badass?

One of the strongest samurai in her country; She's a trans icon

#kiku the greatest of all time#🐐#tall and gorgeous samurai lady#who is a trans icon#love that she is so tall that she doesn't fit in the image display#gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being the most resilient badass of the entire arc#stands up to tyrants and abusers of class privilege#also helps break said main character out of the enemies prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff#one piece#okiku#kiku

#kiku is canonically trans

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

#kikunojo #one piece #brienne of tarth #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #poll #official #swordswoman showdown #round 4 #quarterfinals

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 10 months

Text

A DC X DP #18

You want a taste of my brain? Okay, it's yours anyway.

Imagine dis…

This time I get inspiration from an A03 fic, and some of its parts just stuck with me and now I’m writing about it, if some of you want to read it go for it. If you are asking for the name don’t ask, I am not going to sell my soul to the devil to find it in my ever-growing history. If you do manage to find it, kudos to them.

TELL ME I AM GETTING DESPERATE OVER HERE

Credits to them as well. Also, as you’ve noticed I decided to post less, now it is due to a good old lack of inspiration. So, don’t go getting your hopes up on this one.

…

Ever since Danny Phantom had become the Ghost King he repeatedly entered the reincarnation cycle willingly to retain his morals when he was human. He still retained his ability to stay in the middle of life and death. But when he as the High King of the Infinite Realms gained immortality he found himself losing his ideals and values, he began forgetting. With Clockwork’s insistence, every few hundred years he would become human to experience a lifetime. Sometimes he would go another round in the same dimension, but only when he needed to finish an unfinished business.

Sometimes he is lucky sometimes he is not.

Sometimes he would be born into a loving family with either as the only child or him having siblings. He has experienced the life of royalty as the heir prince. He experienced the life of a knight who was known for his skills with the sword. He was born into a normal family which made him second guesses his every choice due to his lack of normality in his life. He was also born into some wild dimensions that of which could look like it came from a book. From wizards and sci-fi worlds, he never had the time to sit and be an extra.

But there were also times he was born far too unlucky.

He was born in a salve ridden society, a parent who were core members of a rebellion so when his current parents died, he was expected to be like his parents. Born in a society where the rich trample the poor and he was forced into early child labor as expected in society to work at a very young age. Born where he and the people around him had never seen peace in a war-consumed country, a war that separated his family from each other not knowing whether one is alive or not, leaving only him and his siblings to stay alive. Being abandoned by a pair of druggies for his parents left alone inside a dumpster and died in the middle of the night, looking through the dimension he saw that some homeless people found his body and reported it to the authorities leaving his parents in jail while some prisoners seem to leave them at the near bottom of the hierarchy in prison.

…

It seems this time he was born in an assassin cult this time he wasn’t alone. A twin, an older sibling that was with him in the womb and both came into the world together. The moment he laid his eyes on his grandfather he can already tell that he is a major fruit loop from the way he both look at both of them.

His name is too formal for his liking, Dylan Al Ghul, he already convinced Damian to call him Danny when it was just the two of them. Danny tries to downplay his abilities both ghost and human seeing that his grandfather is too power-hungry to the point of misusing ectoplasm that is corrupted but still ectoplasm to achieve some sort of immortality, he tried to give Damian a childhood in the form of showing him the stars whenever he could sneak him outside. He saw the absolute worship and awe Damian would give to their mother and their grandfather whenever they visit or supervised their training, Danny didn’t care for their approval nor their presence but seeing his brother seem to at awe and do anything to please the two made his heart shatter, his older brother never needed to prove anyone something.

Danny has repeatedly shown his disdain for the two most powerful people in the organization yet it is a miracle he still lives. It is because he is a spare, a spare yes not the heir but a useful spare one, twins one who specialized in stealth and espionage a twin who is a perfect copy of Damian aside from his eyes mirroring their supposed father. Both Talia and Ra seem to make it their life mission to drill his only purpose in his head, it may have never worked due to his adult mind but he pretended it would be as to not raise any suspicion.

…

The day Deathstroke attacked not only he dared to kill the demon head but also choose to kill the chosen heir, by removing an eye and some of his organs as a form of slow torture but also killing him as he made the organs unable to go back to their owner’s body.

Danny couldn’t look away from his bloodied brother, Talia slowly approached him from behind and put her hands on his shoulder, and whispered some honeyed words on how his role as the spare will be fulfilled at a much earlier date and promptly injected with a sleeping drug.

…

Danny was already awake when he noticed the cold metal bed behind him the lack of clothes as well the number of doctors seemingly in a rush to prepare for a last-minute surgery. He saw the unconscious form of Damian on the other side and suddenly heard the loud ticking noise of a grandfather’s clock.

It seems that it was meant to be, Danny thought as an image of Clockwork flashed in his mind.

He fell back asleep knowing that Damian lost an eye, kidney, a lung, some ribs as well an ungodly amount of blood, possibly more. Danny knew that this vessel of his wouldn’t survive at the sheer need and he already felt that he would not leave the room alive. So, he took one last peek at the sleeping Damian and promptly closed his eyes, the moment he opened his eyes once again he was back in his chambers in the Infinite Realms clutching his left eye in his face whilst looking at the mirror as he felt his eye be the first one to be removed.

It seems this time he died months before he and his brother celebrated their 10th birthday.

…

Damian woke up with a pounding headache being the assassin he is he immediately looked around seeing that his last memory is being tortured by Deathstroke.

He immediately took notice of his loose clothing and tried to walk towards the door but his knees immediately gave out. As he tries to gain his bearings, he noticed a scar right in the middle of his chest, it couldn’t be from the time when he was captured by Deathstroke as he noticed that this scar is too clean, too sterilized as if someone had just come out of a surgery type of scar. As he tries to loosen his shirt to take a better look at his scar when he noticed a mirror facing his way and noticed his eyes, instead of his usual pair of emerald eyes he was greeted with an emerald eye of his own and his brother’s icy blue eye in his left eye.

Damian remembered that Deathstroke took out his eye, as according to him it reminded him of the Demon head, and decided to promptly pull it out with his bare hands.

Dread began to fill his very being and tried to go and look for his brother but deep down he already knew what happened to him after all, he is the heir while his brother his beloved younger brother is just a spare.

…

When Damian had met his father’s wards most of them commented on his heterochromia eyes and promptly greeted back with his sword in their faces.

The rest grumbled that Damian couldn’t take a tease or two, but immediately chased the demon brat as he chases each and one of them with the intent to kill.

Damian couldn’t tell them; another son was hidden from Bruce. Another son he had failed, another son who died before they could even meet him.

From the first few interactions he had with his father when he first met him, he knew where his brother’s bleeding heart came from.

Sometimes he could still see him, Dyl- no Danny, every time he looks in the mirror. The constant reminder that his brother was seen by the league as nothing but a spare. Whatever love he had for his mother disappeared the moment he laid his sight at his brother’s eye embedded in his supposed empty eye socket.

The constant reminder that shows every time he looks at the mirror and the scar in the middle of his chest, Danny’s organs that were used on him to ensure his survival while Danny was left behind.

…

He was 14 years old when he went wide-eyed at the stranger across him and his brothers in a heavily populated area.

A teen looks exactly like him with a medical eyepatch on his left eye as he sits in a wheelchair chatting idly with an older man.

Damian heavily thought of a clone, did Talia, not mother never mother, make another clone after him after weeks of silence?

Damian still remembered the first time he encountered a clone with blue eyes, his running theory is that due to his new organs have bonded with him thus creating a batch of clones with blue eyes. Timothy had spoken up that since babies have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the colored eyes of either parent made a new branch of clones.

Damian was already planning on disposing of the supposed clone when the said clone suddenly laughed exposing his neck that have a feign white line across indicating a scar. But that scar made Damian double guess, all clones he encountered are scarred free thus leaving him to have no trouble disposing of each and one of them but the existence of the scar he barely caught is something both brothers swore secrecy to it.

The laugh oh god, his laugh, only his brother laughs like that, Damian thought mournfully.

As he tries to look the other way, he suddenly faced the same doctor who was the assistant doctor that foresees his surgery years ago. He may have distanced himself from the League after he had fulfilled his debt but it was no mistaking that it was the same doctor that operated him that time.

A chemist they said, an insufficient man who is more cowardly than any other man yet his talent in poisons made him quite a gem in the League.

A clone who had broke out of their collective mind control? Possible, but why this clone? What made this look alike so special that this man dared to leave the League?

…

Robin began to follow the two, the other bats thought that he had a new case on his lap that requires recon. They didn’t question Robin’s new behavior as they have seen him do the same actions when he landed himself a case or when he was following a lead. Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that something is not right, whether it is the fact that Robin refused any assistance or just the fact they have no idea what kind of case Robin is working on.

They should have listened to their guts then maybe they wouldn’t be surprised at the bat screen, showing a maternal and paternal match to a picture of a blue-eyed black-haired kid with a medical eyepatch on his left eye looking like Damian in a good day.

…

Danny was doing some paperwork when a flying thought passed by him about his last reincarnation. All memories from his adventures when he got reincarnated are usually put behind the back of his hand yet worries about the well-being of his brother made him distracted, and kept close a special one-way mirror to monitor his baby brother.

Danny felt nostalgic at the family drama and chaos that he can’t help but cackle at each interaction Damian has with their father’s adopted children and wards. He found himself majorly of his time watching for hours and hours, he can’t help but wish he was there. As if he was summoned Clockwork appeared in front of him and told him to go back, which confuses Danny since it was Clockwork who implemented that he cannot go back to the same dimension/ world if his body is too far gone to be revived by him, yet Clockwork told him to give someone named Alfred his regards and vanished. Looking bewildered at his mentor/ grandfather he tried to sense his vessel with little to no hope seeing that the League has his body, but surprises himself when he felt his own body submerged in a portion of the Lazarus pit.

…

Going back, he was greeted by an assistant doctor that used to be in the League due to his ancestor’s debt. He explained that he cannot in good conscience do what he was instructed to after the operation, stole his body, and submerged it in an undiscovered pit due to its small size, enough to dump a child not enough for a grown adult.

After an initial check-up, both he and the doctor discovered that the mini Lazarus pit regenerated all of his organs except his eye seeing that it was his entire body submerged excluding his head. The assistant doc theorized that those organs of his may be weaker since they were generated from nothing, Danny in all his eldritch glory as well as being the most powerful being across the Infinite Realms played his part perfectly of a now disabled child.

After all who would accuse this disabled child putting the daughter of the Demon Head in an endless nightmare by his command to Fright Knight? Who would accuse that innocent blue eye of his that he had killed any assassin in their tail ever since he and his now temporary guardian began exploring the world? Who would accuse an adorable child that he was the one who had put the Joker in a definite MIA? Who would accuse this child who smiles like the sun despite his setbacks be the one who tortured Deathstroke to the brink of insanity? Danny is pretty sure his temporary guardian knew of his secret endeavors but remained quiet due to his habit when he was in the League or just to prevent any grayer hairs from growing in.

…

Now if only his brother stopped moping around the building across their apartment complex and just come inside, he made his infamous fudge to share with his brother. His brother didn’t have to drag the rest of the bat brigade in watching him across the building, he even made extra fudge, if only they could just go through the front door instead of rescuing him first in every rogue attack and pretend, they don’t him. Well, if they are playing a game then count him in to win. But for some reason all of them made a face of being constipated whenever they talk to him, Danny is so sure he used clean ingredients to make his fudge…

God dammit just enter the front door like a normal person, better yet tell Batman to stop looking at him as if he died! Those windows are not paying to fix themselves each time one of them decided to stop dropping and roll every other night!

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #ghost king danny #batfam #danny fenton #op danny #damian wayne

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ghostofhyuck · 30 days

Text

Gang AU Series 1

Bodyguard! Mark Lee x Mafia’s daughter! Reader

Summary: “I’ll be happy to die, if it means protecting you.”

cw: violence and mentions of death.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You know, it’s a bad idea —-”

“Mark please!” you let out a deep sigh. “Stop being an overthinker! You’re making me nervous.”

“See! Even you're nervous about it, that means there’s something wrong with it!”

“I’m nervous because I might fuck up my speech if you don’t stop talking!” you shouted, proceeding to go to your dressing room and slamming the door against your bodyguard.

You felt peace now that you’re not in the same room as with Mark. You went to the drawer full of jewelries, pulling the first slide as your mother’s collections of pearls went on full display. You only smiled bitterly as you recall how your mother is so obsessed with pearls. You remember when you’re just a kid, you watch your mother dress up and wear her sets. Now, it’ll be you who’s wearing it.

You felt your heart tightening. It’s been a year since your parents died. A year since they left you and your older brother Johnny to take over their empire. An underground black market that sells illegal products and trades with guns.

It’s been a year and yet you still couldn’t comprehend how they died. An ambush, during a mayor’s dinner party. There weren't any other casualties aside from them. As if they’re the targets. After all, after their death, a lot of people attempted to take over the empire. Luckily, your brother is already accustomed to managing the market. Your brother was a powerful man, that’s why they didn’t stand a chance against him.

On the other hand, you tried your best to live a normal life even though you never had a normal family background. Coming from a family who’s been in a gang for years, there’s a huge part of your life that needs to be hidden. Not to mention, being the only daughter means they’re much more protective when it comes to you.

That’s where Mark comes in. He’s used to working under the gun trades but Johnny seems to be fond of him along with some of the other members, that’s why he made Mark your personal bodyguard.

“Yn, are you done? Because it’s almost 8 am, and we don’t wanna get stuck in the traffic,” Mark said behind closed doors.

“Yeah! Just a minute,” you shouted back. Wearing the last assembly of the set which is the pearl necklace. You went to the full-size mirror to check your fit. You only smiled because the pearls complimented your outfit. You went out and saw Mark on his phone. He glances at you and stands up from his seat.

“So,” he clears his throat. “You’re really going —-”

“Mark, shut the fuck up,” you cut him off. “I am going whether you like it or not, Johnny already gave me permission plus it’s a school event!”

Mark became quiet, he was about to say something but then thought that it’s a bad idea.

“What is it?” you asked with gritted teeth.

“I’m just trying to look after you,” Mark justified.

“Well it’s not helping, you’re suffocating me,” you answered one last time before storming out of the room, where the others are waiting.

“Damn, Mark-hyung got you already?” Donghyuck teased.

“Shut up Hyuck, is the car ready?” you asked.

“Of course it is princess,” the latter said.

You had Mark as your bodyguard four years ago. He’s three years older than you but your brother assures you that he’s a skilled fighter along with the others.

Having Mark as your bodyguard meant having another annoying older brother. He’s overprotective and an overthinker too. At some point Mark was definitely much worse than your brother who’s very chill with you as long as you come home alive.

It got worse when your parents died. Something shifted inside Mark that he became twice as overprotective and overthinker than before. It went to the point that you feel like you have no freedom at all, and it sickens you.

You tried numerous times to shove him away, even complaining about it to Johnny who only laughs at your complaints.

“Soon, you’ll understand why you need someone like Mark,” Johnny winks at you before leaving you alone in your room. You sat there, surprised because of your brother’s words. You tried to understand his side but as day passed by, Mark just didn’t do anything but to get into your nerves.

The car ride was tense, you notice how many times Mark glances at you in the rearview mirror while seated at the passenger seat. You tried your best to keep calm, practicing your speech numerous times. You are required to attend a school event because you’re the awarded student leader in your college department. It was an honor for you and you also wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hold a speech and talk for your fellow students.

The university was bustling with people, perhaps it was because of the annual school festival. There’s a lot of booths, activities, and events prepared for the whole week. Mark became more tense as they arrived inside the campus. You stepped down from the car, the remaining others getting out of the car.

You were about to leave when Mark grabbed your arms.

“Mark, we’re inside the school campus, it’s okay —-”

“It’s not okay yn, just this once please,” he said with a soft tone. “I can just accompany you alone if you want, there’s no need for the rest to come.”

You raised your eyebrow but you saw the worried look on his face and somehow, you couldn’t help but to soften. He’s right, and you feel like you’re being too harsh to him. You could only tug your arms away from him before proceeding to walk.

“Donghyuck can come too.”

“You heard her!” Donghyuck chuckles. “See you later losers.”

All eyes are on you as you walk towards the auditorium where the event will be held. It couldn’t be helped especially when your family’s background earned you quite a reputation too. And to think that you’re walking around the campus with two guards behind you just adds more to your image.

As you reached the auditorium, you were welcomed by the event organizer who’s a friend of yours. You only smiled as she ushered you towards the backstage but you remembered the two.

“You two just stay here, get a seat maybe, the talk will start in a few minutes. I just need to freshen up,” you told them. Mark only nods while Donghyuck gives you a thumbs up and “Good luck!”

As Mark watched you walk away, he couldn’t help but to let out a sigh. Donghyuck glances at the older.

“Stop worrying too much,” Donghyuck chuckles, playfully slapping Mark’s arms.

“I don’t know man,” Mark replies. “I just feel like something is off.”

The program started a few minutes later. Mark and Donghyuck stood there and watched you enter the stage with a bright smile on your face. Their eyes are locked on yours as you went to the podium and started delivering your speech.

Mark still couldn’t feel at ease as you delivered your speech. Everything feels off and he wanted to to trust his guts despite what you and Donghyuck said. He glances at Donghyuck who’s only smiling proudly, watching you deliver your speech in front of your fellow students. As Mark glances at his right, his eyes widen.

There were two men talking to each other. They were wearing caps and shades, trying to hide their identity. He nudges Donghyuck who only ignores him. As the older nudged Donghyuck harder that’s when the younger complained.

“Hyung what the fuck —-” Donghyuck wasn’t able to finish his words when he heard gunshots.

“Fuck, get yn!” Mark shouts, as the sound of another gunshot was heard.

You didn’t know what happened, all you knew was the first gunshot was heard and the next thing you knew, you felt something painful scraping against your arms. You fell down out of shock, and the continuous firing can be heard. You watched as the students panicked, trying to find their way to exit the auditorium.

You were helpless as you tried to stand up and escape when someone grabbed your arms. You almost screamed when you were welcomed by a familiar face.

“Yn it’s me!” Donghyuck shouted.

“Where’s Mark!?” you asked.

“Handling the guys, we need to leave —-”

“ — wait, what about Mark!?”

“He can handle himself, don’t worry,” Donghyuck said one last time before dragging you and escaping your way out of the auditorium.

You watched as the school ground turned into chaos. You couldn’t believe that what’s supposed to be a great day turned into a nightmare not only to yours, but also to innocent students. You wanted to help them but Donghyuck’s strong arms dragged you away from the chaos.

“Hyuck!” You saw Jeno approaching along with Jaemin.

“Help Mark-hyung there! We need yn safe,” Donghyuck orders.

“Renjun’s already had the car started!” Jeno shouted before going inside the auditorium.

You couldn’t help but to cry as you entered the car, Renjun immediately drove away from the campus as soon as the doors closed. Donghyuck could only pat your shoulder lightly, trying to assure you that everything’s going to be alright.

“It’s my fault Hyuck, I should’ve listened to Mark,” you said between your sobs.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” the older one said. “Also stop worrying about Mark-hyung, he can handle it. He wasn’t hired by Johnny-hyung if he was weak.”

“This is bullshit, who the fuck would do it at a school event!?” Renjun muttered angrily as he drove.

“Hyung! Focus on the road!” Jisung shouted.

“It’s obvious that it was a perfect timing for them, especially since it’s yn’s first appearance after Mr. and Mrs. yln died,” Chenle explained. “But they probably hired the wrong people, look, they barely shot you.”

That’s when you remember that you grazed your arms. Your sleeve was stained with blood but it wasn’t that deep. You only wince because of the pain, while Donghyuck covers it with his handkerchief.

“You should rest for now yn, we’ll just tell you when we arrived,” Donghyuck said.

And you couldn’t even protest. That’s when you slowly felt exhaustion get into you. A few minutes later, you doze off to sleep.

You don’t know that it was already night when you woke up. As you sat up from your bed, you couldn’t help but to groan in pain due to the sudden movement. You look around and notice that you’re in your room, and as you look at your clothes — someone changed it into a comfortable tee and cotton shorts. Your arm had a bandage wrapped around the graze, that it’s most likely your bodyguards’ doing.

You noticed that the pearl set that you were wearing is resting idly on your side table along with your bag and phone. You grabbed your phone and saw that it was almost eight in the evening. You were asleep the whole day.

That’s when you decided to get out of your bed and have yourself some food. You opened the door and was surprised to see that the hallway was empty. Usually, your bodyguards will be there waiting for you. Now that you notice it, the house was eerily quiet.

But as you enter the kitchen, you heard small noises and to your surprise —

“Mark!” you shouted.

As he turns around, he only gives you a smile, making yours drop.

“What happened to you!?” you asked as you saw his cuts and bruises, not to mention, the arm sling.

“It’s nothing, just a fracture bone —-”

“Are you stupid!? How can you say that it’s just nothing?” you shouted. You couldn’t help but to cry, seeing Mark all rugged-up because of the event earlier.

Mark approaches you and slowly places his other arm around you, pulling you closer as you continue to cry.

“Hey it’s okay, I’m okay see?” Mark said softly. “I just fell on the wrong side, that's why I broke some bone.”

“I can’t believe you let yourself be left behind, what if you died!?” you shouted.

“Well that’s my job, if it means dying to protect you, I’ll do it,” Mark explains, and because of his words, you punched him in his chest, making him exclaim in pain.

“Stop that,” you said.

“No seriously, I swore that to Johnny-hyung,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

You became quiet, your swollen eyes staring at his brown ones. Mark only gave you his sorry smile and you don’t know what to say. Perhaps this is what your brother is trying to say to you.

Mark’s loyalty cannot be compared to the others. He was dedicated to protecting you no matter what, even if it means sacrificing himself, he would willingly do it for you. You only fall into your own thoughts as your eyes wander around his wounds. You don’t know why but your hand intrusively reached for his cuts, you saw how Mark tried to cover up his pain.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked.

“Anything you want, I’ll do it,” he swore.

“Don’t die for me,” you stated. “If you want to protect me forever, you have to keep yourself safe too.”

Mark only chuckles, grabbing your hands as he kisses the palm of it. “If that’s what you want, then I swore to you that I’ll be safe.”

#nct imagine #nct dream fic #nct dream #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct mark #nct mark fic #nct dream mark #mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark lee fic #nct 127 mark

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virtualreader · 9 months

Text

silver blade

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: reader heroically kills a shapeshifter to save Dean, but not without getting hurt in the process. When the blood covering the reader's hands, nearly triggers a panic attack, Dean is quick to comfort her.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: gore, not natural creatures (if u know, u know), anxiety, panic attack, blood, grotesque killing, wounds, emotional shock. could be read as romantic or platonic.

a/n: i live for hurt/comfort fics. also, i thrive on feedback, so don't think twice and send me some! constructive criticism is also welcomed!

"Dammit, Dean," you cursed under your breath as you tried calling Dean, only to be sent straight to voicemail once again. To say you were exasperated was an understatement. You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that was starting to creep up on you. “Where the hell are you, guys?”

As little as a single missed call was enough to seed concern within you. One—they had probably walked into a crowded bar. Two—Dean had most likely found a chick worth flirting with. Nine in the span of two hours? Nine voicemail messages and no sign neither of the brothers were still alive? Now that was downright worrisome.

You slid the combination 11-02-83 into the lock, and it opened immediately with a subdued click. You had been with the Winchesters long enough to have figured out the access code to the weapons compartment. Nonetheless, you were still finding your feet in the supernatural world, not having ever seen any of the creatures you read about.

With one hand, you scrambled to lift the bottom of the trunk, gaining access to the secret compartment John had built in the '67 Impala Dean insisted on nicknaming baby.

If there was anything you had a grasp of, it was lore beyond doubt. Therefore, you sifted meticulously through the vast array of weapons until you finally laid your eyes on the one you had been seeking—a glistening silver knife, ornately engraved. Legend has it both silver bullets and silver-bladed weapons were lethal to shapeshifters, the very creature Sam and Dean were after.

As you became aware of your scarce fighting skills, you hesitated for a moment and second-guessed your brash decision to defy the blunt order to stay in the motel the Winchesters had given you. Instead of backing down and following said instructions, you headed towards the nearest sewer cleanout driven and determined, and trawled the cover aside with great effort.

With the silver knife in hand, you descended into the sewers, climbing down the rank, rusty ladder, diligently making it to the bottom. You jumped off onto the ground, which you found to be swamped with turbid water. Or at least that was what you hoped the muddy puddles soaking your feet up to the socks were.

The air was humid, and the sewer halls were silent except for the rhythmic dripping of leak drops splashing on the concrete. You took a deep, shaky breath, wondering how Sam and Dean managed to remain level-headed during hunts, especially given the unforeseen aftermath.

You were undoubtedly scared—terrified even. You bore in mind all the plausible deadly outcomes facing a creature as powerful as a shapeshifter entailed. Yet, not even that did withhold you from sacrificing your own safety for the sake of the two boys who had become your family over the past year.

You were willing to pay your weight in blood if it was their lives at stake. Without them by your side, life would only be reduced to a meaningless solitary existence. So you might as well devote yourself to wrestling them from the peril you sensed they were in.

You crept through the dark, dank sewers, your grip on the silver knife tightening with each step, refraining it from slipping from your moist trembling hands. You couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was watching you, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce at any moment.

The stench was overwhelming, and you had to cover your nose with your free hand to avoid gagging. But you knew that giving up was not an option. You had come too far to turn back at this point.

You dropped your gaze to the concrete beneath your feet, scrutinizing the ground in search of any signs indicating Sam and Dean’s whereabouts.

One, two, three blood droplets stained the cement and left behind a vague trail. It was a somewhat chilling sight, and your thoughts immediately went to the possibility of the guys being wounded.

Barely a few feet before you laid a mucilaginous shred of skin. Next to it was a clump of dark hair, matted and tangled, still attached to its corresponding patch of torn skin. You shuddered at the realization that those gruesome remnants irrefutably belonged to the shapeshifter.

Faint grunts died out in the distance. It sounded human, and you recognized them as Dean’s. You tensed up, gripping the small bladed weapon steady in your hand.

With an adrenaline rush pumping through your veins, you crept towards the direction of the sound. The grunts grew louder, and you could now hear the pained sounds of Dean's voice as clear as day. Your heart leaped into your throat, and you picked up the pace, sprinting through the dark corridors.

You skidded to a stop as you came upon the scene. Eyes narrowed and brows raised, you did your utmost to wrap your head around the commotion you witnessed before you.

Sam laid sprawled on the floor, his mouth stuffed with a smudge rag. There was sweat and blood coating his face and clothes and his chest inflated and deflated frantically as he struggled against the plastic flange restraining his wrists.

Your attention then turned to Dean, who was pressed against the wall with his body tense with pain and fear. There was another loud thud, the broad creature gripping Dean's jacket collar tossed him onto the ground, the sound echoing throughout the sewer's hallways. Dean gasped in pain, and your heart sank even further at the sight of his helplessness.

“Y/n…get outta...here...” he spoke falteringly in a hushed tone when he registered your presence.

You followed his gaze, and your eyes locked with the shapeshifter's dusky ones. The creature’s features were practically indistinguishable under the dim light seeping through the storm drains, yet the illumination was sufficient for you to discern its current shape.

It was not human, you acknowledged that fact in its entirety. But it sure resembled a person, and not just any person. The shapeshifter, whose eyes were currently fixated on your unnerved shaky figure, had taken on Sam's form with such accuracy it left you utterly bewildered, propelling your mind into an insurmountable surge of confusion.

Its gaze was intense, almost otherworldly, and it seemed to be studying you with a cold detachment that sent shivers down your spine. The shapeshifter seemed to be waiting for your next move, but you froze, clueless as to how to act in the face of his defiant demeanor. And with each passing moment, the pressure mounted, threatening to engulf you in a tidal and paralyzing wave of haze and dread.

You felt compelled to pin your hopes on your self-reliance in order to beat the creature down. After mustering all your courage, you leaped to Dean’s defense. Without hesitation, you charged forward, brandishing the silver knife that you had retrieved from the Impala's weapons compartment.

The smug laugh of the shapeshifter only fueled your determination to protect the brothers at any cost. You saw red. With a swift motion, you plunged the blade into the shapeshifter's chest, slicing and carving it wide open out of fury, and it let out a bloodcurdling screech as it fell to the ground, lifeless.

What seemed blatant moments ago became now an incertitude, as you saw what appeared to be Sam's inanimate body on the concrete. Even if the real Sam drew breath a stone's throw away from you, growing ever more relieved as Dean aided in freeing him from the restraints, the thought of having killed the younger Winchester brother eclipsed your brain.

“I’d never peg you as the stabbing type,” joked Dean trying to alleviate the tension in the atmosphere as he helped Sam to get up, earning a sheepish 'thank you' from the younger brother. He then turned his attention to you. “Jeez, y/n, white paint has more color than your face.”

You took a step backward staring down to your hands, absolutely unable to hear what Dean was saying, let alone fathom it out. Blood was all you saw, blood drenching your hands from the very fingertips all the way up to your elbow.

When your only response to his jokes was silence, Dean began to realize that something was off. In a desperate attempt to get you to snap out of your distressed paralysis, he grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you slightly.

You looked at him, trying to discern his worried features through your foggy vision. You felt trapped inside your own mind, unable to break free from the suffocating weight of your thoughts.

"Everything's spinning, De," you muttered as you managed to loosen the knot that had formed in your throat. "Please, make it stop.”

"I promise you—your head is the only thing spinning right now," he said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "You did good, y/n/n. You saved my ass back there."

Your usually regular and calmed breathing pattern developed into a shallow, rapid one. You could feel your heart hammering at great speed in your chest, which caused the veins in your neck to throb and made you feel rather light-headed.

"Hey, hey, hey. I've got you. I've got you," Dean whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace not willing to let you fall when he saw you swaying, and losing balance. "Just listen to my heartbeat, okay?"

You hummed in response, utterly unable to voice your distress. You could hear and feel the wallop of his heart, forcefully rapid yet steady and calming, along with the resounding sounds of his voice inside his chest. You clung to him for dear life, feeling his strong arms around you as you kept a white-knuckled grip on his plain flannel.

"That's it. Just focus on that," he reassured you, rubbing his hand up and down your back, your breathing gradually returning to its even pattern. "You're safe now. It's over."

As soon as you were out of the sewer, Dean ushered you to the Impala opening the door for you to enter the back passenger seat. As much as he loved baby, getting her bloodstained was not a problem as long as he got you safe and comfy.

The ride lasted hardly ten minutes, although to your clouded senses it felt everlasting. You made a futile attempt to divert your attention from the dry blood coating your hands to the sparse traffic outside, before your mind was dragged into the abysmal hole of anguish that the earlier incident had dug into your psyche one more time.

Throughout the ride, Sam kept asking if you were okay every now and then, displaying a genuine concern for your well-being. He knew how traumatic the experience must have been for you and wanted to make sure you were coping. His kind words and comforting presence helped soothe your frazzled nerves, even if only slightly.

Truth was you were far from okay. You were grappling with a multitude of emotions that were threatening to consume you, and the weight of your thoughts felt suffocating.

Meanwhile, Dean would occasionally shoot glances your way through the rear-view mirror, silently checking on you to make sure you were holding up. Despite his tough exterior and being kind of rough around the edges, he was quick to show his caring and nurturing side when it came to you.

The car rolled down the highway, the engine humming softly as Dean expertly downshifted gears, slowly bringing the vehicle to a smooth stop in the motel's parking lot.

You stumbled out of the car, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Dean rushed to your side, supporting you with a hand on your back.

"Easy there, champ," he said, concern lacing his voice. "Let's get you cleaned up and patched up, yeah?"

You nodded weakly, grateful for his support. It was then that you noticed the large gash on your forearm, which must have been incurred during the prior wrestling. How could you have missed it before?

The keys clattered as Sam unlocked the door to your assigned room, pushing it open gently. The three of you entered the motel's bedroom, steps heavy as your energy was depleted.

While Sam tended to his own injuries, Dean took you to the bathroom, where he turned on the tap and began to gently wash away the blood that coated your hands and arms. The touch of his fingers was soothing, and you closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as the water washed away the evidence of the shapeshifter's blood.

In spite of his sarcastic jokes, you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Dean was mad. And he had every right to be.

You looked up at him, feeling guilty for disobeying orders and putting yourself in danger. The instructions were clear—stay safe and focus on research. They had let you take charge of the investigation duty reluctantly, let alone get fully involved in the hunting business. But you found it impossible to resist the urge, you couldn’t stay in the motel doing nothing knowing they could be in trouble.

Notwithstanding the potential fallout, Dean didn't scold you. Instead, he patiently led you to the toilet, he retrieved the newly restocked first aid kit and gently placed it on the countertop.

“I'm sorry,” you said in a whisper. "You weren't answering my calls. I got worried sick. I'm sorry."

Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"No need to be, sweetheart," he said softly, tossing his resentment for your disobedient behaviour to the back of his mind. "As much as I hate to admit this, you did what had to be done. You saved us back there."

He proceeded to tend to your wound, his touch light and careful as he cleaned and bandaged the gash on your forearm. You couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, for his unwavering support and understanding.

As he finished up, he looked up at you with a small empathetic smile.

"You wanna crash in my room tonight?" he asked. "I promise to keep the nightmares away."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

The knowledge that he was there with you, ready to support you through thick and thin, was a comforting thought. With Dean by your side, you knew you could get through anything.

#dean winchester #dean winchest x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #spn #dean supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #sam and dean #supernatural #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #the winchester brothers

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rosesaints · 11 months

Text

help wanted ! chapter three.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: your first week on the job. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: oral (f! receiving) series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

There’s no comprehensive and all-encompassing instruction manual for parenting. You could make a point about the parenting books that you could easily snag off the bookshelves of your local library, but they’re not always effective.

Every child is unique, and what works for one child might not work for another. Parenting manuals often provide general advice and strategies, but they don’t always address the specific needs, temperament, or circumstances of an individual child or family. Parenting is also a deeply personal experience, and different parents have different philosophies, values, and parenting styles. What one parent finds effective or important may differ from another.

You took a quick glance from the comfort of your living room over to your next-door neighbor’s front yard and see that they’d progressed from soccer to softball and now… volleyball, it appeared, in the course of one Sunday morning. Little Gabi O’Hara seemed to have boundless energy and a penchant for the most active range of hobbies a five-year-old could possibly have, and it was only ten in the morning.

She was receiving, diving, and scrawling around the grass frantically, happy as can be, as Miguel set the ball to her side of the yard, steadfastly coaching and guiding her through the motions. Faintly, you overhear him yelling words of encouragement, and when Gabi saves a particularly difficult ball, you watch as he runs excitedly over to her to pick her up about his shoulders and whooping in glee. “¡Qué orgullosa estoy de mi hija!”

You fought the urge to celebrate along with them and tried to concentrate back on what you desperately needed to get done before Monday sneaks up on you. You’re not a parent, but if you were going to be in charge of watching, protecting, and caring for Miguel’s pride and joy, you had some reviewing to get done.

Miguel O’Hara probably didn’t need a manual or a guide to learn how to parent. It came naturally to him, took hold, and became second nature. It’s evident in the way Gabi hangs onto him like a lifeline.

Now, you know deep down that you wouldn’t be able to replicate what made him a good dad, wouldn’t even dare to try, but it was a good thing you only had one job: to babysit for a summer. And manuals and guides for babysitting happened to be a lot more useful and concise about what to expect in your new role.

Forty-five dollars later, you were signed up for an online Babysitting & Advanced Child Care Certification. You were well aware that this course was usually reserved and taken by eleven-year-olds, took it yourself almost ten years ago, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You didn’t take it half as seriously back then as you did now. (It was really not that deep.)

As four hours passed, you gradually checked off lessons in basic first aid and CPR (Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees was a very good point of reference ), developing age-appropriate activities (though you probably could’ve just looked out your window to see more of what Gabi was interested in), behavior management (she was also an avid fan of your mom’s blueberry muffins), and business and professionalism skills.

Now where do you even begin with your last lesson?

Your mother had done the brunt of negotiating this job for you, overselling you and your skills heavily, so you were covered in the marketing aspect of the “business.” Everything else in the lesson were skills you learned early on in college and through common sense, so you felt confident in that aspect. The real struggle was under the bullet point:

Professionalism.

The memory of him was still fresh; red marks just beginning to turn purple on the flesh of your skin as you replay the way he told you he would wait for his decision with a patient and composed tone, but his hands betrayed him, drifting down low to your thigh, the downright inappropriate way in which he looked down at you, intense brown eyes that seemed to intensify in a reddish hue.

Uncertainty bloomed in your chest reluctantly, concerns beginning to fester like wildfire.

Now, unfortunately, since the course was designed for pre-pubescent individuals, you were a little bit at a loss. What exactly was the proper etiquette for working with what was meant to be a one-night stand?

Googling “what to do if you slept with your boss/neighbor accidentally before you start the job,” ended up being fruitless since most of the searches came up with oversleeping and arriving late, attempting to salvage it with a quick, additional search through r/AITA: “what to do if job included taking care of one-night stand’s daughter,” and then frantically looking up: “how does someone become good at three different sports in one afternoon” in a panic-induced haze.

There was no right answer, it seemed, other than to wait it out and see. That last question was a long shot anyway.

You ended up passing your certification with flying colors with relative ease, sighing with relief as you finally shut your computer off for the day. By the time you finished, the sun had begun its descent, warm daylight receding quickly from the living room you had locked yourself into to try and get the exam done. At that point, Gabi and Miguel had concluded their front yard practice hours ago and you let your mind wander, thinking about how summer was going to go.

Last summer, you were barely home, too preoccupied with thoughts about your future and your engagement, and your internship. The world seemed impossibly vast, and everything was going so fast, way too fast for your liking but you made yourself push through it.

Sitting cross-legged in your living room, listening in on your parents bickering over the right seasoning proportions as you thumbed through a babysitting certificate, you found this was a lot better. Peaceful.

Sleep came easily and softly, this time with no dreams of your next-door neighbor.

When you knocked on the door of the O’Hara house for the second time that week, you felt a bit more prepared, but your fingers still fiddled with the hem of your dress. Your room currently looked like a warzone, having spent a good chunk of your morning deliberating on what to wear, and you had settled on a well-worn and familiar dress, but you were starting to have doubts.

It was early–cars were only just beginning to pull out of their driveways, rushing off to work and you could still feel the mist lingering in the air. Miguel had texted you the night before and told you to pop in around 8 AM before he headed off to work an hour later.

You considered knocking again before the door opened, and Miguel lit up at the sight of you. Compared to you, he looked relaxed, eyes crinkling softly around the edges as he invited you in. “Come on in, Gabi’s still asleep.”

Gingerly, you followed him through the house with padded footsteps, careful not to make any noise as he leads you into the living room. He gestured for you to sit as he walked back into the kitchen, and you were left to examine your surroundings. Once again, spotless—and was that a signed guitar by Llewyn Davis?

Miguel returned with two mugs of coffee and some cream and sugar, chuckling as he noticed what you were staring at. “I see you’ve noticed the infamous guitar. I don’t really play all that often anymore, because of work and Gabi, but it has good memories.”

“It’s gorgeous,” You sighed breathlessly. “How in the world did you get it signed?”

You spent a few minutes going back and forth with him about music, “you were in two punk bands in high school?,” to which he rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the small smile that lingered as he brought his mug of coffee back to his lips, “I had a lot of pent up tension back then.”

There were a few other things you went over with him, like Gabi’s bedtime (he usually tried to be home by the time she had to go to sleep but work sometimes prevented him the opportunity so he makes sure to stay until Gabi woke up in the morning), potential allergies or dietary restrictions, if she could go over to your house, visits with Abuela, and little lessons and habits that he had picked up in the five years as Gabi’s dad.

One thing you learned was that he was very thorough; there were phone numbers stuck to the fridge in the event that anything went wrong, emergency contacts a mile long being added to your phone, a list of preferred hospitals and clinics in the area, and maybe excessively, a list of soccer parents to avoid at grocery stores, playgrounds, and practices.

You had raised an eyebrow at that last point. “What, did you have an argument with a mom at Bed, Bath, and Beyond or something?”

“I might get a little too competitive when Gabi’s playing soccer.”

“Miguel,” You tried to resist the laughter bubbling up your throat at the mental image of Miguel going wild at a little league soccer game. “They’re five. How competitive do you have to be?”

When the hour was getting close to done, and after making more fun of Miguel to your delight, he looked down at his watch, eyes lowering slightly in disappointment. “It’s about time for me to head to work, and I wanna go wake up Gabi before I have to go,” Miguel stood up, and you couldn’t help but stare as he stretched, lean muscles rippling underneath the fabric of his button-up, shirt riding up just right as you caught a glimpse of tan, sunkissed skin—

Focus.

If he noticed you staring, he didn’t mention it, but you could see the small traces of a smug smile as he turned away from you to head to Gabi’s room. On the way, he pointed out other rooms, his office, where to go do laundry, and a guest bedroom if you ever needed it, though you reminded him that you did only live a good ten feet away from his house.

Before you went in, Miguel knocked softly, opening the door to a bright, blue bedroom. It’s a gorgeous room, filled with various posters of the sports and cartoons that Gabi loved, a bunch of toys that were still strung out on the floor, and there’s a picture of her and Miguel on the nightstand from Disneyland, with Gabi as a baby wearing lopsided Mickey ears as he beamed proudly at the camera.

He pushed in first, sitting down on Gabi’s bed then he leaned in closer, whispering a gentle “it’s time to wake up, Gabi.” The sound, barely audible, wafted through the room as she slowly stirred, warm honey-brown eyes still drowsy.

“Well, good morning,” Miguel greeted. “¿Lista para empezar el día?”

Gabi nodded as she sat up, still practically half-asleep, rubbing her sleepy eyes with tiny fists. When she noticed you standing by the doorway, she smiled, waving softly, but still focused her attention on her dad. “¿Vas a trabajar?"

Miguel hummed in response, and then looked back at you. “Promise not to cause too much trouble to your babysitter today?”

“No promises,” Gabi grinned and you thought Miguel might as well explode on the spot with pride.

You and Gabi stood at the porch as Miguel pulled out of the driveway, Gabi on your hip as she waved frantically, blowing kisses to the outline of his car as you waved too, laughing as Miguel blew his own kisses back to the two of you.

There was no trouble with getting Gabi settled with breakfast, having decided on a generous helping of eggs and toast. You got her meal ready as she started setting a volleyball back and forth, hands still clumsy and slippery with inexperience, but she asked you a series of rapid-fire questions as you flipped over her eggs.

“Do you play sports?”

“I used to, a long time ago, but I’m afraid I’m nowhere near as good as you are. I can set some volleyballs over to you later if you want,” You replied as you set the egg down on her plate. At that, Gabi cheered and made her way over to you, little hands reaching for her food.

“Last week, my dad hit his toe on one of my legos and he accidentally said a mean word. I don’t think he knew I heard him. Can you tell him that’s not appropriate?”

“I’ll relay the message,” You tried your best to stifle a laugh from her innocent, mindless questions. You’ll definitely bring that up with Miguel later.

“Can your mom make some more blueberry muffins?”

“You know what,” Your eyes lit up as a light bulb flickered above your head. “Why don’t we just show you?”

Gabi absolutely adored your mom—those two had latched on to each other more than you thought in your disappearance, and she was hanging off every one of your mom’s words as she explained how to prepare the muffin batter, as you took little pictures to send over to Miguel with flour on the tip of her nose and fingertips sticky with batter she was caught sneaking bites from. The last part was gross, but still, admittedly cute.

You had a mental checklist prepared (courtesy of your little certificate) of things you should prioritize when babysitting. The first one was responsibility: Babysitters must prioritize the safety and well-being of the children in their care. They should be reliable and trustworthy.

Of course, you had to rein in a few of your mom’s liberties as she snuck some more bites of the batter to Gabi, sighing exasperatedly as you had to explain the risks of salmonella to your own mom. Not that it stopped you from taking small swipes at the batter either.

Your first day was a soaring success, the day well spent with baking and a trip to the park in the beautiful weather, letting Gabi run around and cause havoc for a few hours before the sun began to set. Lots of photos and updates were texted to Miguel, another bullet point in your checklist, namely communication: Effective communication with both children and parents is essential. Babysitters should be able to understand and engage with children, as well as provide clear updates and instructions to parents.

Miguel responded to each of them in kind with personalized messages, watching with bated breath as he saved the one of you and Gabi grabbing ice cream by an ice cream truck.

Gabi was knocked out and tucked in by the time Miguel got home from work, and you were waiting on the couch, watching intently as he walked through the door, loosening his tie with a relaxed sigh. He settled next to you on the couch, voice velvety and smooth as he greeted you. “Hey. Did you guys have fun?”

There was a natural ease to your conversation, and you took the opportunity to ask him more questions about music, and his work, and let him try the new muffins Gabi had made while he asked his own questions in kind, about what you liked to do, what made you decide to go back home.

You were both halfway through laughing and snortling as you had explained the one time you had attempted to sneak into your university library, to no avail as the near-hundred-year-old security guard had caught you almost immediately.

Miguel’s eyes softened, the edges of a laugh softly settling into a smile as he gazed at you, the room feeling smaller, lighter. “I’m really glad you went back.”

“Me too,” You smiled in return, head leaning into the crook of your arm. “I mean, who else is going to make fun of you for getting way too passionate about five-year-olds playing soccer? Like come on, you did not have to get her minivan towed just because her kid sidestepped Gabi in a game.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

The rest of your week passed in a whirlwind. Gabi was a really easy kid to watch, you really couldn’t take that much credit. She took every activity you threw at her with the easygoing nature of a five-year-old with not many qualms, and it made things so much easier, but of course, you didn’t want to just barely do your job. Case in point, creativity: Great babysitters often come up with fun and engaging activities to keep children entertained. They can think on their feet and find creative solutions to challenges that may arise.

On your second day, you spent the day with her running around the block, showing her various sights and spots you had frequented when you were a kid, answering her curious questions in stride, and ending your little adventure with some waffles at your hometown restaurant. You delighted in the way Gabi practically squealed at the amount of whipped cream.

Of course, your next priority was patience: Dealing with children requires patience, especially when they are upset. Babysitters remain calm and handle difficult situations with composure. Gabi had a sugar rush the moment the two of you left the restaurant, and you had to deal with the fallout.

“Oh my god, Gabi, look both ways before you cross the street!” You didn’t think you could handle a lawsuit from her father.

The next couple of days were a lot more relaxed; as rambunctious and active she was, sometimes she could just use a day of lounging around the couch, binging various movies and asking you your favorite parts about them, eyes twinkling in curiosity as you explained the mechanics of some of the animation in the cartoons you watched.

Miguel would occasionally come back for lunch or return with some takeout after work, and you were able to cycle through various restaurants that had opened up in your time away from college, eager to talk through a lot of them and give him your opinions.

The whole time, he remained warm and welcoming, innocent glances across the dining table, a far cry from the man you had hooked up with a week ago.

At one point, your hands gestured wildly and your mouth ran on fire as you tried some spicy pozole that Miguel and Gabi urged you to try. You hadn’t noticed the simultaneous way their heads had tilted to the side, flashing equally mischievous smiles.

Guzzling milk as you glared at the both of them (at Miguel, more than Gabi), as Miguel struggled to contain his laughs, breathlessly wheezing as he wiped some stray tears that had gathered in his eyes. “Did we not tell you there were some ghost peppers in there?”

“No!”

Friday came around much sooner than you expected, and at that point, you had settled into a routine.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow through the windows as both of you plopped down on the couch. You were both exhausted from a day of running around and kicking a soccer ball in the front yard, and you had endured your fair share of kicking the ball and missing the goal by several feet for Gabi’s sake. With messy hair and rosy cheeks, you had tucked Gabi in under a cozy blanket, flipping through the channels until you eventually landed on something that you had started just a couple of days before.

Before long, Gabi had fallen asleep, and you had moved her to her bedroom without much fuss, ready to go settle in the living room and wait for Miguel to arrive. On your way down, you noticed his office door was slightly ajar, and you went to close it until something caught your eye.

Against your better judgment, you pushed your way in, surveying the state of the room. There were books scattered everywhere, old files and papers haphazardly set around his desk. A few articles of his old works were framed on the wall, and in photos, he seemed more constricted. Less free, more serious, dark brown piercing eyes judging you as you walked around his office.

What caught your eye, in particular, was a photo of Miguel with two other individuals, one of them you could only assume was his brother, due to their similar eyes and smile, and in between them was a woman with blue eyes and brown hair, a similar shade to Gabi’s.

Before you could ponder on the similarities further, you heard the door to the office crack open, and spinning around wildly to see Miguel standing at the doorway.

In your concentration, you missed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and Miguel stood, blanketed by the light of the hallway, in sharp contrast to the dark that shrouded the room. You felt guilty, small like a child caught dipping their hand into a jar of cookies. To your surprise, Miguel merely flickered the light switch on, eyes carrying the weight of fatigue. “Is Gabi asleep?”

You sheepishly nodded, folding your hands behind your back as you struggled to come up with an explanation. “Listen—”

“Come with me,” Miguel’s voice was calm, carrying none of the backlash you were expecting. “Let’s talk.”

In the kitchen, Miguel poured a couple of glasses of wine, offering one to you as you accepted. He let out an exhausted sigh before composing himself, back to the easygoing and light smile you had begun getting accustomed to that week. “How was she today?”

And just like that, the tense air in the room lifted as easily as it came in, as you went through the motions of the day, watching as he gradually lost the slump in his shoulders and the lines on his face that told the story of a demanding day.

Whatever it was, you didn’t want to pry, especially after having been caught looking through his belongings.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” Miguel’s eyes shined with admiration. “She adores you, tells me all about your days when you’re gone.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t fight the smile that bloomed across your face, chest constricting at the praise. “Well, I really couldn’t take that much credit. She's a really easy kid to watch, she practically lost it when I took her to go get some waffles the other day.”

He smiles, full and unrestrained this time, and you share a few more stories about your week, ignoring the flush in your cheeks when he would quip in with his own stories from when Gabi was younger. Gabi was his whole life and he adored her wholeheartedly; in pictures, before she was born, you could tell that something was lacking, something missing when his smiles wouldn’t reach his eyes.

“So, what’s your secret?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow. “How’d you get the hang of it the way you did? It took a while for Gabi’s old babysitter to get used to how active she is. I’ve never seen her latch on to someone so quickly.”

“I… I did a babysitting certificate online that was meant for middle schoolers.” Thank you, Babysitting and Advanced Child Care Certification. Your laughter spilled on in bursts without even thinking about it, and you gasped for breath about the absurdity of learning more things by completing a small babysitting certificate over your college diploma. “If you need a better manual for parenting, look no further. Those eleven-year-olds have it cracked.”

“Is that so?” Your laughter was contagious, and before long, Miguel had joined in.

You nodded, still proud of your little achievement. “ Mhm. There’s four,” pausing to hold up four fingers. “Four key values.”

“Well, shoot, now I have to know. What are they?” Miguel leaned forward just slightly, and you ignored the way your heart swelled at the small motion, his proximity rapidly unthreading the small resolve you had left.

“There’s responsibility, then communication, creativity—that’s an underrated one—-and patience,” Listing them off felt a little bit silly, now that you looked back, but you continued. “It’s like, the four commandments of babysitting.”

“So which one do you think is the most important?” He looked down at you, and everything seemed heightened, more focused. Dark brown lashes fanned his cheekbones, skin warm and dusky against the contours of his face as he stared back at you. “Responsibility, communication, creativity, or… patience ?”

You knew the implications behind his words, this line that you were dangerously close to crossing over. “Patience.”

Miguel’s pupils dilated then, humming his approval at your words. At that point, the sun had fully set and you had lost track of the time. Without thinking, the words came tumbling out before you could even stop and consider the weight of them. Recklessly and impulsively, you took the leap. “Do you remember what happened a week ago?”

“Of course, I do. You think I’ve forgotten about you?” Miguel’s eyes darkened, voice dropping an octave as you suddenly felt very, very hot. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, cariño.”

He stood before you, all broad expanse of shoulders and muscle, and you’re reminded of the events of last week all over again, remembering how strong he felt underneath your fingertips. “What do you want?”

You didn’t need to answer, just leaned in and took his lips in yours, long wait finally over and you were falling apart like honey in his arms as you felt him push you against the cool marble of the counter, his warmth in sharp contrast to the cold pressing against your back. He tasted exactly the same, bergamot and crisp green leaves, patchouli, and vetiver. Fuck, you were addicted to it.

Your moans filled the quiet of the kitchen as his mouth moved lower, light and feathery kisses peppering the side of your neck, going over the bruises mapped on your skin left just a week before, sucking and kissing new ones in his wake.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” Miguel murmured, hot breaths fanning your neck as if in a trance. “Wanna watch you cum on my fingers again, wanna taste you.” All you could do was nod. Yes, yes, please—do whatever you want.

He returned to your lips, needy and unconstrained. You let your hands wander, disappearing into his neat, put-together curls just as Miguel bit down on your bottom lip, the sudden pain making you twist your fingers into his hair and tug. A low, rumbly sound vibrates against your mouth, his fingers pressing harder into your hips and then he’s hoisting you up on the counter.

One of his hands makes its way underneath your skirt, fingers skirting along the edges of your underwear as you whined, pleading for him to touch you where you needed him. You could feel his mouth nip at your skin and you clammed up like putty, as he pushes your complaints back down. “Patience,” he chastised, going even slower than before.

Minutes feel like hours as he held you there, hand cupping your face as if you were his salvation, proof that he wanted, no, needed this just as much as you did, had been crippled with thoughts of each other since the moment you had walked into his house. “Good girl. That’s it. You going to keep being good for me?”

Shaking your head yes, unable to formulate words at the way he gazed at you, definitive and ready to take the pleasure he had just begun if you stepped out of line.

Slowly, he knelt in front of you, slithering down your body and you feel exposed, goosebumps rousing in your skin as he kissed up the length of your thigh, grabbing onto your underwear and tugging it down with an easy confidence.

Miguel’s breathing adoration into your cunt and you felt like you were on fire, going crazy with his greedy back and forth, not quite reaching you where you needed him. His voice was clear and definitive, a stark difference to yours. "Tell me what you want."

You’re babbling, words merging and rolling off your lips with an uncontrolled force, and you’re not even sure if you’re making any sense, not entirely sure if you even cared. “Please. Please, Miguel, I’m begging you, do something—”

His thumb started to draw slow circles as he slowly stroked the lips surrounding your mound. You were sure that you were positively dripping, going slick around him as you keened under his touch. His mouth watered and Miguel decided quickly that using only his fingers simply will not do, nowhere near enough.

Something in your brain snapped as he pushed your skirt up, looking ravenous as he inspected you, still teasing, not quite playing with you just yet. And then, you felt his hot mouth exactly where you needed him, licking one strip, from base to top of your cunt, just to taste.

Oh my god.

You were leaning back on your shoulders, struggling to hold your body weight as he continued to explore you, and you just allowed yourself to feel it, really feel it, and let him do whatever he wanted to you with his tongue—letting him lazily slide it over your clit, tracing the soft skin of your inner thigh with his canines, occasionally allowing you the pleasure of letting it migrate inside your cunt, tasting, feeling, wandering around until you were dizzy and delirious.

The kitchen sounded absolutely filthy, filled with the sound of the slick of your pussy and the criminal way that he ate you out, moaning and groaning when he knew he found a spot that just wrecked you. Praises fell from him in short, Spanish increments, taken with the way you begged and leaned your cunt closer to his face as if you even had any remote say in his demonstrations.

His hands snaked around your hips, pressuring you to move even closer to him, leaving you with no room to escape, not that you would ever even want to, no. Not with the way he was fucking you on his tongue, not with the way the rough skin of his five o’clock shadow stimulated you further, forcing you to feel everything so much more.

There was nothing innocent about the way he growled into your cunt, then, “Cum for me, baby, please. I wanna taste you. ‘M starving. Just look at you.”

And then you were crooning, gasping as he went faster with his ministrations, wondering how in the world he had so much vigor, so much stamina, and then you gave him what he wanted, legs shaking and tightening around his face as he only held you harder, working you through it.

“Oh my god,” You let out another breath, head still spinning. “Miguel—”

His tongue was still hungry when it slipped back into your pussy, still desperate and needy for the taste of you as if you didn’t just cum mere seconds ago.

"I can't— I can't—"

Everything was so heightened, so close in such a short time to the pinnacle that he had you pinned under for what had felt like hours. This time, he was rougher, more impatient as he plunged two fingers inside of you. You resisted the urge to scream, biting down on your palm as tears well in your eyes, too taken with the pleasure he was lost in.

"You can't? Oh, I think you can. Give me another one, dulzura.”

And then you were rolling your hips, frantic as you sobbed, practically riding his face and you whimpered in ragged and staggered breaths. But once he pressed his rough thumb to your puffy clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came apart for the second time that night.

Slowly, you regained your bearings, pushing yourself up from the counter as you looked down to see Miguel still licking, cleaning you off. To your surprise, he was grinning, satisfied with only giving you a brief reprieve. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

This was not in your post-grad plan, but honestly? You were starting to warm up to it.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #mdni #miguel o'hara smut

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still-a-morosexual-help · 2 years

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Mammon's such a fascinating character because canonically:

*good at solving complex mathematical problems in his head in a matter of seconds*

*understands people, their emotions and how they'd react to specific situations and uses that knowledge to manipulate them and get what he wants (whether that's some physical object or a certain reaction from them or just for them to calm down)*

*when there's no other choice at all, he steps up and effectively takes charge*

*a good teacher and seems to have a good balanced mix between being strict, encouraging and helpful*

*whenever Lucifer wants a job done well (no matter what the job is), he relies on Mammon (and has done so since they were angels)*

*scams usually work, he just tends to get caught at the end*

*came up with a code on the spot to tell MC he missed them while also being a comprehensible message on its own, that fit with his 'tsundere' personality*

*constantly found ways to sneak into the human world from the Celestial Realm*

*has fast and spontaneous reactions during high stake situations where you need to move/react fast*

*enjoys playing chess*

*can multitask well*

*actual emotional intelligence*

*one of the first brothers (the second?) to realise there was something wrong with Simeon*

*has a variety of skills that range from making balloon animals to fitting in seamlessly in a corporate environment*

*extremely hardworking when there's a goal he genuinely wants that he's working towards*

*when giving it his all he tends to pick up new skills easily*

*by his younger brothers' own admittance, he can do anything, complete any task and he can do it well as long as he puts effort into it*

But also canonically:

*had no idea what the fuck rent was*

*a shit liar*

*said "what if I accidentally tell MC I'm in love with them" to MC*

*constantly failing all his classes*

*easily falls for traps/curses*

*emotional intelligence fizzles out when it comes to talking about his own problems/admitting anything about himself*

*bet and lost their new house*

*managed to trick himself into believing he'd get a prize if he won a competition that Diavolo explicitly said there was no prize for*

*came up with a plan to win the competition in a matter of seconds, easily and constantly changing it to better fit the situation at hand. a plan that worked extremely well. lost the competition because he couldn't be bothered to check the title of a book*

Mammon's a character who'll break down and teach you PhD level Mathematics without breaking a sweat and then ask you what kind of animal the Pink Panther is in the next sentence.

I love him. I want to study him under a microscope.

What makes this even better is that I'm 100% sure his brothers have managed to gaslight the entire fandom into thinking he's the biggest fucking idiot alive with just the windows screensaver bouncing around in his head and nothing else

Don't get me wrong, he's a dumbass. He probably runs face first into a glass door at least once a week. But also....I mean....c'mon

In conclusion,

If you like Mammon, you're NOT a morosexual. You're a morosexual with a competency kink. Good Day.

On a side note, all of mammon's traits are like this,

*he's greedy but here's a long list of all the times he put his friends and family before money*

*he's a jerk but here's a long list of when he's one of the kindest people and an amazing brother*

*he's possessive but here's a long list of all the times he put mc's consent and/or choices above all else*

he drives me mad.

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lulublack90 · 3 months

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Prompt 17 - Soup

@jegulus-microfic February 17 Word count 753

Previous part First part

“Did you get through to him?” Sirius asked pulling him aside before James walked into the meeting.

“Yeah, he’s okay. They suspected him but they didn’t find anything so he’s back in.” He told Sirius in a hushed voice, not giving much away in case someone was listening to them. Regulus’s capture had been need to know and the majority of the order didn’t need to know. They’d been banned from telling even Peter. James would have told him if it hadn’t been Regulus’s life on the line.

James followed Sirius into the meeting. Sirius rushed over to Remus’s side. He’d been incredibly clingy since Remus had volunteered to be a spy. He didn’t let him out of his sight and stayed so close they were constantly brushing against each other. James knew Remus wouldn’t have humoured him so patiently if he hadn’t been so worried as well. It was going to break Sirius when Remus left.

James barely listened to what was said in the meeting. Someone would fill him in later if he needed to know something important.

***

Regulus arrived outside the Rosier family home. It was a large country house, almost modest for a pureblood family. The wards let him through he knew he would and he waited by the front door for the elderly house elf to answer it.

He was shown up to Evan’s bedroom where a disgruntled sat in Evans's huge bed in a cocoon of blankets. Evan was fussing over him, trying to force-feed him soup.

“For fucks sake, Ev. I got stunned, I’m not sick. I do not require soup!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Regulus quipped when neither of them noticed he’d entered the room.

“Reg! Thank fuck, tell Evan I do not need mothering.” Evan stuck his tongue out at Barty and tried to shove the spoonful of soup in his mouth while he was distracted. It worked and Barty started coughing as he choked on the surprise souping.

“Evan what the,—Oh, actually that’s quite good. More, please.” Barty opened his mouth wide and happily accepted the next spoonful.

“So what brings you here Regulus?” Evan asked looking over at his friend.

“Wanted to check this idiot wasn’t dead,” Regulus smirked. “And to let you know I just got back from Malfoy Manor.” Evan and Barty were suddenly over-serious.

“And?” Evan asked, looking over at Barty nervously.

“He noticed you’d gone but I told him I’d ordered you to go so no one realised who Barty was fighting with. He agreed it was the right thing to do so you’re in the clear.”

“Did you see which fucker got me?” Barty snarled, his teeth seemed to sharpen with the venom of his words.

“No, I just saw you go down and got Evan to help me move you.” Evan shuffled uncomfortably by the bed.

“Reg can I have a quick word?” Regulus narrowed his eyes but followed Evan out into the hallway and into another bedroom.

“I know it was you,” Evan said no trace of emotion on his face. Regulus’s stomach sank. He swallowed nervously.

“Saw what?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“I saw you shoot Barty in the back.” Before Regulus could come up with a justifiable reason as to why he might have done that, Evan was continuing. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for getting him out alive. He owes you his life, he would have fought until someone killed him.” Evan sniffed loudly and raised his eyes to the ceiling blinking back tears.

“Evan,” Regulus started. “Please tell me your occlumancy skills are above average.”

“Why?” Evan stared at him confused.

“Because if Voldemort finds out what I did, he’ll start asking questions.” He tried to get across how important it was that Evan protect his secret.

“Why don’t you want him asking questions about you?” Evan asked, seeing there was more that Regulus had left out.

“Because he thinks there’s a spy and if he knew I stunned one of our own he’ll come after me and I don’t have the answers he wants.”

“Well, he’s not managed to pluck the fact that me and Barty are in a relationship out of my head yet so I think you’re secrets safe.” Evan snorted. Regulus felt the vice that had been crushing his chest loosen as relief flooded through him.

“Thank you, Evan.”

“So how’s James then?” The vice crushed him in two. How in Merlin’s name did Evan know he’d seen James?

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claywriting · 3 months

Text

Always at the right time

in which for four times Y/n saves our boy Freddy, and the one time he saves her.

Reader is a ravenclaw, but it's really not important

but she is also a Seer, and that is important

no sensible temes threated

and there isn't really a progression of their relationships, only a few kisses in the end

4800 words

Fred, he had never understood how this was possible.

He had sifted through a thousand and one solutions in his head, but they all led to the one, simple explanation: she was a witch. Of course, not the most brilliant of his reasoning, after all, his entire family were wizards, he lived in the magical world and had attended a school of magic based on raising young wizards and witches.

That should not have been the only answer he had been able to find.

Yet after years he still could not fathom how it was possible that every time, he found himself in trouble here was Y/n L/n to appear to get him out of it, in a quiet, nonchalant way that he had never explained. Well...let's be honest, not really every time, or else the poor girl would have spent the rest of her life running after Fred Weasley to solve whatever thorny situation he had caused. Certainly, a fate not desirable to many.

Often was a more accurate description.

However, often enough for the boy to notice her presence and begin to get curious.

Of course, intriguing Fred Weasley was not difficult, a far more impressive accomplishment would have been to actually manage to keep him out of trouble; but even attracting his attention long enough to get his nose out of his pranks and the Quidditch manoeuvres he had to learn, that too was an accomplishment, perhaps not mind-blowing; but at least noteworthy.

And it seemed that Y/n had succeeded splendidly, on her own, without anyone's help. But more importantly, without the boy understanding how it was possible.

It had all started years earlier, two to be exact.

Although thinking about it, with all that had happened, it seemed a lifetime earlier. Centuries and centuries of water had passed under the bridge.

So here is the story of how four times Y/n saved Fred, and how, for a change, the once he saved her.

1. Hogwarts, February 1996

The Weasley twins were in the throes of another one of their exploits; at the height of dinner the corridors of the castle were always deserted. This was, surely, a great advantage for them; the perfect time to organize their pranks was definitely during mealtimes. When the professors, and the nosy students, would gather in the great hall, too busy looking after the food on their plates, to notice the absence of the two identical Weasley brothers.

This was something they had learned in their first year. And they had not forgotten it since.

The two of them had now developed the skill necessary to work in the most perfect silence, their shirt sleeves rolled up above the elbows so as not to soil them, their ties loosened to allow them to breathe with ease in the eagerness given by the adrenaline rush that the risk of being caught injected into their veins.

It had always been, besides the great satisfaction they felt at seeing a successful prank, one of their favourite moments this.

The one in which adrenaline releases discharges in the heart from the anxiety of being discovered, the blood pumps faster in the veins, the palms and forehead sweat slightly, and you feel alive as if riding a broomstick descending at full speed to the ground. A feeling of pure life.

Of course, the risk of getting caught was more concerning getting caught red-handed; they knew perfectly well that regardless, the blame would fall on their red heads, knowing that, in the school, no one was able to play left-handed shots equal to what their brilliant minds were capable of processing.

But, in any case, without evidence they were not going to face any consequences. Most of the time.

The silence of their hustling was interrupted by a voice humming in the hallway, quick footsteps approaching, clatter of heels against stone that would have made even a werewolf's hair stand on end.

"Shit." It was the first word that slipped out of George's lips, who in an instant was on his feet ready to make his escape. "Fred, it's Umbridge, we have to go."

"I've almost-" murmured the other, still on his knees, connecting god knows what to a small box placed against the woman's office door "done." He said exultantly, rising to his feet.

Time was short, they both knew, and the twins launched into a run, just far enough away from the office not to be caught right at the scene of the misdeed, but, possibly, close enough to hear the result of their prank.

They took refuge around a corner, one aisle over. Their robes under their arms and two identical smiles on their lips.

The explosion and the stinking cloud came like a melody to their ears.

The screams that followed it were the icing on the cake.

What made their laughter go sideways, however, were the voices that immediately began to squawk; the woman was not alone. And footsteps approached, swiftly.

A brief glance at the two was enough for them to turn around and start running at full speed as far away from there as possible, the Gryffindor common room an ideal place to hide after the stunt they had just pulled. That was the plan.

George, in the lead, was running at breakneck speed with his twin at his heels, his ears pounding from the blood pumping desperately from the adrenaline in his system, and from the possibility of actually getting caught this time.

It took him a few minutes to realize that his brother was no longer following him, when he almost reached the portrait that led to his common room, in truth.

Fred, who had fallen behind, had slipped taking a particularly bad turn, crashing to the ground and going crashing with a particularly loud thud against one of the wooden doors that littered the castle, one of the many unused storage rooms.

The boy had stood there, admittedly a few seconds too long, massaging his head, when the door had swung open and a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him inside before said hand was pressed over his mouth.

From below Y/n, she looked at him for a few moments before smiling; a smile that in all honesty was rather shabby for being that of a young woman whom Fred had never seen behave in a way that was not adorably kind to everyone. Always with a ready answer in class and always with a kind smile for anyone, whether they deserved it or not.

In silence the young woman raised a finger bringing it to her lips and leaned it against herself before whispering.

"Be quiet Weasley, if we get caught we're both in trouble."

With a mixture of admiration and confusion he obeyed, pressing his back against the heavy wooden door, trying to escape the human heat the young Ravenclaw emanated, in the cramped space. He, who was already sweating with his heart pounding from the run, found himself blushing hard when she gently pushed him aside as far as she could before pressing his ear against the door to listen to the hallway, waiting until the way was sufficiently clear. They remained in that position, pressed against each other for an indefinite time, before she raised her kind eyes to his and with a smile announced that the way was clear. She even offered to accompany him to his common room, constituting a credible alibi for him.

2. Diagon Halley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, September 1996

The store that day was almost deserted, the picture of tranquillity, with the students having left the week before for Hogwarts only a few mothers with their small children, still too young to follow their future classmates, entered the doors of the Weasley brothers' store. That, then, was a dull day.

George had disappeared almost an hour earlier to the workshop behind the store, leaving his twin alone to manage the area in front, which had soon translated into Fred, bored as few times in his life, almost lying on the bacon drumming his fingers on it as his gaze wandered lazily around the shelves of his empty business. He puffed for what seemed to him the thousandth time, searching, almost desperately for something to do. He already missed the throng of young students crowding inside those four walls ready to spend their money to buy a laugh, as the two notorious troublemakers liked to say.

Without those cheerful young heads, the world was too lazy.

He wondered again if they should not have opened in Hogsmeade, make a cheeky competition to Zonko.

He drummed on the wooden counter once more as, yet another sigh left his lips.

He had to find something to do, or he would go crazy with boredom.

The best idea that occurred to him was to rearrange the tall shelves that reached from the base of the store almost to the ceiling, covered with objects with the most disparate uses and uses.

Yes. That was a good idea.

So he did, in an instant the boy rolled up his sleeves and began climbing up a ladder as narrow as it was rickety. He thought he could replace it later.

Lo and behold, suddenly his good humour was back, sitting on his hands was not really his thing, setting up the store, talking to customers, inventing new tricks, even cleaning up on the floor. Everything was preferable to having to, simply, wait for something to happen. That, surely, was the worst feeling he could be forced to experience. Of that, he was sure.

After all, he had already grown accustomed to the throngs in his store, to the cheerful shouts of young wizards and witches realizing that they had a need for something that until a few hours before they did not even know existed, or that they could buy. He had already grown accustomed to the grateful smiles of people who bought something from him, whether it was a potion of some sort, an explosive prank, or some candy that Honeydukes supplied to the twins at a favourable price, having been offered by them as a reseller for the candy store in the capital.

Yes, after all, their work was proceeding well, but those days, during office hours when people were working and not really buying, left him in low spirits.

These thoughts crowded his head as he absentmindedly slid the cardboard packages off the shelf in the wall, stacking them with less care than he should have had, under one arm. His head had always wandered to the most disparate places while he did simple manual labor, allowing him not to get bored by staying focused on what he was thinking, rather than what he was doing. Of course, this was not limited to introspective thoughts about boredom, but much more often traveled with imagination. He wondered if he and his brother might one day expand their business. It would have been nice to open more branches, perhaps around the world. Already he could see himself, him, a billionaire.

He was reminded of a drawing he had once seen while strolling through Muggle London with friends, a duck in a hat taking a bath, in a tub full of gold coins.

Sooner or later, he would have to try it, too.

He smiled to himself, absentmindedly stacking yet another box under his arm. The bombs that were contained inside were not powerful enough to cause serious damage to people and objects if taken individually. Of course, the thought that having six of them in one package, with already four packages under his arm plus one in his hand as he worked absent-mindedly was not a safe situation had not even crossed Fred Weasley's mind; in all honesty, it was George who was the more safety-conscious twin of the two. The one who weekly prevented both of them from blowing up irretrievably at the very least, obviously could not always prevent every trouble, or explosion.

So, when the bell set above the door rang Fred had no half-hearted qualms about leaning out of his already rickety stepladder to see who had walked through the door of his store. A toothy grin at the thought that, at last, a customer would snatch him from the day's deadly boredom.

This was just yet another in his long list of mistakes that morning, which began with not immediately fixing the stepladder, followed by absent-mindedly working with explosive material in hand, and ended with jumping like a puppy at the arrival of a customer.

Needless to say, he slipped ruefully from that ladder.

The ground beneath him approached at staggering speed, the boxes still more or less clutched in his hand the boy closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact with the lacquered wooden floor they had paid so much for when they had built the store.

Whether he died or survived, George would have killed him for ruining it, he was certain.

Instead, what he had not expected happened, a waving of wands, a gentle voice releasing the right spell at the right time. A perfectly executed Arresto Momentum, and, in front of him, Y/n smiling, while he remained stuck in midair like a subspecies of idiot.

"You should be more careful, Fred Weasley," smiled the former Ravenclaw, sweetly, "remember, they teach you that in first year. Stairs, they like to change."

3. The Burrow, August 1997

The wedding was what one might have called a veritable daydream. Bill in his suit, with his new wife clutched at his side was the picture of utter and complete joy; Fleur shone as if emitting her own light. Fred, who, in his years, had seen even too many sappy, melancholy couplets for his liking, had had to admit to himself that the two of them, no matter how nauseous and/or diabetic they made him feel at intervals, were in perfect harmony together.

There was no denying it.

The air was imbued with joyous excitement, perhaps even a good dose of alcohol, as Fred thought advancing among the wedding guests. Sunlight filtered through the foliage of the trees, dancing on the elegant white curtains that adorned the garden of the Weasley mansion, the magical atmosphere was undeniable. For Fred's taste there were a few too many undeniable things that evening, he thought as the sun set over the horizon, one hand sunk into the pants pockets of the suit he had purchased for the occasion and a glass of wine in the other. And most of all, a huge sword of Damocles hanging right above his head, ready to fall on him should he attempt to pull one of his cheap shots on the day of his brother's wedding.

He was certain that his mother would kill him.

The laughter and cheerful voices of family and friends filled the air, mingling with the sweet sound of music coming from the band playing on the makeshift stage. Fred watched with a mixture of emotion and melancholy as his loved ones exchanged loving hugs and bright smiles.

The scene was alive with a multitude of colours, with the vibrant floral decorations adorning every corner of the garden. Garlands of fresh flowers wrapped the tree trunks, while scented candles that had lit the path to the altar were replaced by the tables that had welcomed guests for the banquet after the ceremony.

Despite the looming shadow of war, in that moment, Fred could not help but smile comforted by his family around him and the unassailable joy of such a festive day. Quietly he took a sip from his glass shifting his gaze to Ron dancing with Hermione, his brother’s-stricken look wringing an amused laugh from him, so busy was the little Weasley dancing carefully so as not to step on his friend's toes, that she surely would not forgive him the affront.

The guests' elegant dresses swayed lightly in the breeze, while the scent of the delicious banquets enticed those present to indulge in a feast for the senses. The plentiful and delicious food, served on tables adorned with white linen tablecloths, offered a wide selection of culinary delights that satisfied every taste and desire.

The happiness of that evening on interrupted not long after, when a patronus burst into the middle of the banquet, announcing the most terrible of news on such a cheerful day.

The minister of magic was dead, the ministry had fallen, and the Death Eaters were coming for them.

Immediately there was panic, people screaming, chairs toppling over. His family clutched at each other, but, while still remaining Gryffindors, each of them tried to do their best to help people escape, to protect as many guests as possible.

He saw with a distracted eye Ron pushing Hermione behind him, the wand clutched in his hand with such force that Fred for a moment feared he would break it. Bill, taking his bride and clutching her to his chest, his eyes promising fire and flame. His parents try to find each other, shaking hands, ready to give battle.

In the corner George and Ginny stood back-to-back, wands in hand and spells already flying, striking the firsts Death Eaters to arrive on the scene.

For an instant his head spun wildly, for an instant the ground missed under his feet.

But it was an instant too long because when he recovered, he found himself on the wrong side of a wand, pointing in his direction, and a spell being fired at him.

Nor did he know what to do, so he simply closed his eyes, trying to raise his arms to keep from getting hit, waiting for the pain that-which did not come.

A roar not far away brought him to his senses, moved by instinct he picked up his wand, opening his eyes again only to find the familiar figure of Y/n in front of him. The girl had her back to him, her wand raised; clearly the spell that would have otherwise affected him had been deflected by her, but... how?

He had only a few moments to look at her, briefly. Her hair was pulled back into a dishevelled tail still damp, she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her feet were bare.

Fred did not understood.

He was sure she was not at the wedding... how had she apparate there just in time to deflect that spell? At the exact moment when it should have hit him, she had appeared out of nowhere and, once again, saved him.

The only question was, how?

He naturally had no time to ask, because as soon as he could compose himself just enough to close the mouth that had been left open from surprise, the young woman turned around, barely looking at him from over her shoulder. After making sure the boy was all right, she gave him a smile and a wink, promising that "They would have talked about it later." And, she added, to the surprise of Fred, who came out rather red in the face that "That outfit looked really good on him."

The boy found himself momentarily speechless, still in disbelief at what had happened. He watched Y/n as she walked away as light as a feather amid the chaos of battle, her figure disappearing into the fighting crowd. A thrill of gratitude ran through him as he realized how lucky he was.

Or perhaps there was something else behind it, something eluding him, just beyond his fingertips.

He had no way of finding out that night.

4. Hogwarts, May 1998

The battle had been raging for several hours now, in every corner it was possible to find Death Eaters clashing with members of the Order of the Phoenix, desperate students, Aurors, and Hogwarts allies who had been summoned from wherever they could be reached on short notice and in a great hurry. Fred, was following his brother through the chaos of battle. The roar of duels and the heat of explosions filled the air, mingling with the screams of rage and pain. He felt alive; charged with adrenaline, but at the same time worried for the safety of his friends and family.

The lifeless bodies lay scattered on the ground, and in each of them, for a moment the boy saw a friend, a family member, an acquaintance, someone he had loved. His wand moved with precision and determination as he cast spells against the approaching Death Eaters.

Every movement was quick and instinctive, but he knew he could never let his guard down, aware that a mistake could be fatal.

The smoke and dust obscured his vision, the heavy air scratched his throat forcing him to stop from time to time, and it was only when he rejoined with

Percy was beside him, fighting with the same ferocity and determination.

The two smiled as they saw Ron and Hermione arrive, while Percy, with an arrogance that was natural in him announced to the minister, that was being thrown against the wall, that he was resigning, while Fred laughed in amusement.

"Percy! You made a joke!" the boy burst out laughing, shifting his gaze to his brother "Did you really make a joke? The last one I heard you make was..."

But he could not finish the sentence, an explosion behind them carried away the rest of his amused comment.

Fred looked up, from the floor. His ears were ringing, perhaps an eardrum had ruptured. The dust from the wall that until a second before was behind him was still falling from the sky, and around him Harry, Ron, Hermione and Percy were also having trouble regaining control over their bodies, which had been thrown hard against the ground.

He grunted, sore, shifting his gaze to the wall, now reduced to rubble, and, to his enormous surprise, found a person standing just in front of him. Standing wide-legged, with her jeans broken in several places, covered with soot and dirt, her soft hair matted with blood, sweat and who knows what else. There, above him like a warrior angel, but pale as a corpse, was Y/n.

Once again, the girl had, seemingly, appeared out of nowhere, conjuring up a shield just in time to protect him and the rest of the group from the explosion that was sure to hit them.

The girl silhouetted before them with fierce determination in her eyes, her figure dirty and wounded but still standing and ready to fight, while he lying on the ground stared at her, incredulous, surprised by her timely presence and grateful at the same time. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to understand how it was possible that she was there, at that crucial moment, to protect them.

"Y/n..." whispered Fred, his voice cracked with emotion and astonishment. "Thank you."

Y/n looked at him with intense eyes, full of determination, before turning a tired yet satisfied smile on him, a reflection of the gratitude she felt for having arrived in time to protect the group.

"Save it. There is no time to stay here," she said with a firmness in her voice that did not belong to her, yet her voice like a fresh balm after the wounds of battle, "we must move."

With a nod, she indicated for them to follow her limping figure, she held out her hand to each of them, holding Fred's in hers, unable to let go as they moved through the rubble and chaos of battle.

Fred nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. There was no time to linger in thanks or questions.

They needed to focus on survival, on winning the war that had been going on all night, but caught up in a rush the boy leaned down, taking her face in his hands and planting a kiss on her lips, quick, almost a blink.

"Later, you'll explain how you always come at the right time." He murmured, taking her hand back in his, bringing his attention back to the rest of the group who had shifted their gaze in embarrassment.

The girl for her part was reduced to a smouldering heap, red in the face and downcast-eyed. A stupid smile on her lips.

The moment of truth came a few hours later, at the end of the battle the two found themselves in the great hall. In the rush of the last fight they had separated, both of them remaining so distressed that if they had not found each other again as soon as possible one of them would have had a heart attack.

Thus, when the girl crossed the threshold of the great hall it was the red-haired figure that was the first one she caught sight of, and he threw himself at her at the speed of sound, catching her in his arms with an emphasis that lifted her off the ground, and holding her so tightly that her bones creaked under the pressure of the boy's embrace. They stood like this, in the doorway, for a few minutes before he led her to a somewhat secluded table, retrieving from somewhere a clean handkerchief and some water to cleanse the conspicuous wound that the young woman wore on her forehead like a badge of honour, while he smiled with a split lip and a black eye so obvious that it would have been visible even from the other side of the castle.

"I believe you owe me some explanation now." He commented softly, gaining her attention as she moved from the bodies delicately arranged in the room with care and attention.

The blush grew on her cheeks as she blushed.

"I-oh, for merlin's panties. I'm going to sound really, really scary. Keep in mind that this is not something I control, please."

He, let out a laugh.

"I'm sure I can handle it. Tell me, come on."

“I’m a seer.” She blurted out, “I can see the future, really well in some cases. Accidentally, those cases involved you… getting hurt. Like, really hurt.”

She started blushing, her eyes low on the floor.

“And… and I could not allow it you know? I… I do care for you, really. So I was… not so accidentally always there when I knew you would have ended up… bad?”

The boy sat still, for quite a while, before exploding in a laugh.

“So, I was almost right, you are a guardian angel!”

5. Hogwarts, september 1992

To say that she was insecure on that broom was, absolutely, an understatement. Although she was in her third year of school now, Y/n was still a mess when it came to matters pertaining to flying.

The thing, it troubled her.

So, she had gone to the quidditch pitch together with a few friends, hoping to get the hang of it, with all those flying brooms without, possibly, making a fool of herself in the eyes of her far more experienced classmates.

Needless to say, her plan had foundered within the first fifteen minutes.

In no time, she had gone from hardly being able to lift herself off the ground to darting through the sky holding onto her broom with the purest of terror in her eyes. Unable to control her vehicle, she had simply been stuck in the air with her eyes clenched shut and tears stinging. Certain that she would have died there.

So great was her terror that she had not even noticed a foreign body approaching her, two in fact. George and Fred Weasley could have many virtues, minding their own business was not one of them.

So when the sight of a trembling girl stuck in the air had struck their eyes neither of them had thought twice about approaching her, perhaps to tease her a little, perhaps to tell her to move out of the way because Gryffindor team practice was about to begin and she would be in danger of getting hurt.

The important thing is that, she, she expected anything but to hear someone's voice speaking into her ear a few dozen feet above the ground.

The terror was so great that she jerked, on her broom. Letting her go with a scream that would have made a banshee's blood run cold.

This, was her second mistake of the day.

Losing the, precarious, control of her broom, which was keeping her suspended in the air the girl simply plummeted.

The ground was approaching her at such a speed that the world around appeared only as a series of indistinct colors and flashes, so Y/n, simply closed her eyes, waiting for an impact that would break who knows how many bones.

But what she felt instead was two arms grabbing her so fiercely that they pushed all the air out of her lungs with an unladylike oof, and the smell of gunpowder and smoke from Fred, who had caught her on the fly and was now holding her pressed against his chest.

"You should be more careful," he said with a laugh, "Good thing I was here at the right time."

perhaps this one day will become a complete fic with chapters and really progression of the relationship

#fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #hp fandom #hp universe #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #fw

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