#neither are the bats but neither party knew

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DC x DP Prompt

To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!

It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.

No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.

They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.

But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.

That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.

Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.

The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.

What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.

The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.

Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.

From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.

And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:

"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #danny and the gang are fragments of the souls of those the joker + the other criminals killed or got killed because of them #guess who most of danny's soul is made of #hint: he has pit rage #the joker is no longer human that's why they had a hard time cathing him #neither are the bats but neither party knew #i would like to mention that danny is tiny #he missed his growth spurt and is making it everyone's problem #danny is a tiny menace #danny sam val dash and kwan mostly work out in the feld #tucker wes and star are the guys and gal in the chair #Paulina Dan and Jazz are the lawyers who prosecute the crimanals #they always win #duh #ellie is their mascot #shes also a mencae #she sometimes go out on the felid #wearing a tutu #combat boots #and a studded leather jacket #with her hair in pig tails #she also has a spiked bat #she WILL use it

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏

thinking about luke as your mom’s friend’s son who only comes over when your parents hang out…yk the one….anyway here’s a shitty drabble

being all awkward smiles and painful small talk for the first hour of whatever family event your parents had dragged you to this time.

indulging in more than a few cocktails that your older cousins snuck to each of you from the bar.

(the dodgy bar in the dodgy events building that had been hired out for whatever birthday party/baby shower/bat mitzvah was happening. you didn’t really care all that much, anyway.)

the liquid courage fuelling the conversation, pulling up old memories you had buried and bubbling over the giggles you shared as you drank in the corner.

getting progressively tipsy, sharing secret smirks when your mom passed a comment about how “it was as if you two had never been apart!”

luke’s hand in yours — older, mature, callused; so different from how they used to feel when you were kids, although those memories were fading, being replaced with something much more carnal. something you were less likely to share over a cocktail at a family party.

sneaking away from the crowds — easy enough, everyone was drunk.

cutting through hallways, passing the drunkards who lingered outside of the chaos. they were smoking, arguing on the phone, waiting for a cab, looking for the bathroom. you?

you were being pressed against the wall of an empty stairwell, gasping quietly at luke’s mouth on yours. his hands on your waist, then your back, your arms, the sides of your neck. everywhere he’d been thinking about touching since he knew what touching meant.

and you were the same. fingers under his blazer, dipping into his waistband for a teasing second before returning to the outside world — but he noticed. how could he not? the firm pull of your body against his was response enough, his right hand coming down to hitch your leg around his hip.

your crotches burned with desire, rubbing against each other with every small movement of your bodies. aching for more whenever you paused for just a second because you thought you could hear someone passing the bottom of the stairs a few feet below you. all they would have to do is ascend the first set, and they’d spot you there. but neither of you cared.

luke inching a hand up your dress, dipping his fingers beneath your panties and huffing into your ear when your wetness coated them after one stroke. your own hand, fiddling with his belt and making sure nobody heard the clanging of the buckle as you undid it with fervour, eagerly searching for his cock once you could stick your hand in there to your wrist comfortably.

moaning in each-other’s ears. grinding on each-other’s hands. sucking in deep gulps of air whenever you got too loud, whenever the slurring speech of an uncle you’d never met faded in, and then out of shot.

luke cumming in his underwear, your hips spitting and sputtering against his palm only moments later.

cleaning yourselves up, catching your parents at the bottom of the stairs just as they passed by in search of you. sharing a look.

in the years you’d known him, you’d never exchanged socials. you didn’t need to. you just hoped he would be at the next family function.

#you can write about this concept if you want #because this is shitty and rushed #pls tag me if you do #i wanna read it #@mills drabbles #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan

[zylev-blog]

Villian AU. Fentonworks is a multibillion company, and the head of the company, the Fentons, are supervillains. But nobody knows this because they wear full face masks, lab suits, and use voice modulators. They’ve been active for years, and their two kids even joined into their crimes. The Bats can’t get ahead of them or figure out the identities of the villainous family because they had a hacker of their own named Technus. (Tucker). Sometimes another young girl hangs around them: Undergrowth. (Sam). The Bats constantly were trying to get ahead of them, but never could. But the same thing worked in reverse: the Fentons couldn’t figure out who the Bats were.

This began their attempts to demask the Bats. The Bats were skilled at this, and beautifully dodged all demasking attempts for years. It became more of a cat and mouse game for both parties after a while. Neither had an advantage over the other.

That is, until the Ghostbusters(Fentons) disappeared into the lab for a week. Danny had an idea. An idea for a type of acid that wouldn’t harm against skin, but would dissolve any type of clothing. It took them a few days to stabilize the formula, and by the end of the week, they had multiple vials of the stuff. The Bats were antsy; they knew the criminal family were planning something. They just didn’t know what they were planning.

The Ghostbusters plan works beautifully. Jack got Bruce, Maddie got Spoiler, Danny got Red Robin, and Jazz got Nightwing. After that, it wasn’t hard to figure out the identity of the rest of the Bats.

The next day, the Bats continued their lives as normal, but they were looking over their shoulder all day. They were antsy, and fully expected something to happen. But nothing did. No new random person started stalking them, nothing out of the ordinary happened. But they kept their guard up because they knew better. They knew the Ghostbusters would eventually do something. They just didn’t know when or how.

Danny had been best friends with Tim for two years, and Jazz had been dating Dick for six months, so they were both blindsided by the identity reveals of Tim and Dick. Jazz loved Dick so much by that point, but hated heroes, and had tried to kill Nightwing more than once before. She was torn on what to do.

Suprisingly, it was Sam’s idea that they went with. Jazz already had a date with Dick scheduled for that Saturday, so as a test to both Dick and Nightwing, they were going to kidnap Jazz in broad daylight. Jazz couldn’t be in two places at once for the attack, so they used a hologram to fool everyone into thinking she wasn’t one of the Ghostbusters.

Phantom(Danny) broke through the window of the restaurant that Dick and Jazz were at. In a matter of seconds, Phantom had a knife against Jazz’s throat. Jazz played the scared victim, and Dick tried to reason with Phantom for Jazz’s safety. Jazz was thrilled about the outcome, but still allowed herself to be kidnapped.

Unfortunately, none of the Ghostbusters planned for the Justice League to get involved.

#dp x dc au #dp x dc writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dp crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #dcxdp #villain Danny Fenton #villain fentons #villain jazz Fenton #villain Maddie Fenton #villain Jack Fenton

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny had no idea what a meta was, but appearently he had something called a meta-gene. One would think a mutation that can cause people to manifest superpowers from lab accidents would explain his disastrous career as a superhero, but they would be wrong. Dannys meta gene was never activated and the whole ghost fiasco was just eldrich shenanigans at its finest.

No, Danny's meta gene activated just two weeks ago on his fifteenth birthday where he was celebrating at Sam's place with Tucker. They had gotten into one of thier usual fights about food and Danny just did not want to deal with it and went into another room.

Sams cat didn't love him per say but it usually didn't hate him either. Today was not his lucky day. The kitty scratched him and wouldn't you know? His meta gene wasn't activated by an interdimentional portal opening up on top of him, it wasn't activated by the numerous energy blasts he had been hit with nor the various electric shocks.

No, it was activated by a freaking cat scratch.

He stared at himself in the mirror, glowing green eyes with slit pupils stared back at him. His kitty ears were folded back to show his shock and displeasure over the situation but it was still rather obvious what they were. The tail wagging slowly behind him was the same snowy white as his hair and ears.

He looked like Phantom. He looked like Phanton as Fenton. Ancients. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this. Transforming brought about no change other than the hazmat suit. He was so screwed. He couldn't go home like this.

Breathing heavily and on the verge of a panic attack he called Jazz once, twice, three times, but she didn't pick up. Danny knew he couldn't stay in the human world, it was too dangerous.

But if he wasn't there to protect the ghosts than it would be too dangerous for them to stay too. He knew for a fact Dani was staying with Dora while she taught her how to read and write so he had pretty much no qualms about destroying the portals and outing Vlad through a pre-made video of him transforming and boasting about his crimes to Phantom, courtesy of Tucker and him filming it all.

He felt bad about ditching his friends one last time, and at his own birthday party no less! But he knew if he tried to say goodbye they would guilt him into staying and it would end horribly so he left a note explaining what happened and bounced.

Destroying the portals hadn't taken much time or effort nor did destroying over 20 years of research between the three. It was exploring the Ghost Zone that was giving him problems. He was always warned by Wulf not to open portals in the Ghost Zone unless you were very experienced cause if you screw up theres no telling when or where you will land. He thought back to Wulfs lessons and tried to conjure the image of lush wildlife and abundant food.

The place he ended up portaling to had neither of those things. In fact if felt like the opposite when he landed in a grimey alleyway in the dark of night.

A spotlight was pointed toward the sky, painting the clouds above in a yellow light holding a stylized image of a bat in the center. Danny wondered what that was about for only a minute before he heard the tell tale whoosh sound of someone landing in the alley behind him.

Dannys new instincts reacted before the logical part of his brain took hold causing him to whirl around with his ears flattened to his head and he hissed so furiously that the man with the red helmet (mask?) back up several paces while cursing furiously. The man also mentioned something about a "Pit" but Danny wasn't paying attention, he was scared out of his mind and bolted down the alleyways and out of sight before phasing into a dilapidated building and hiding under some rubble.

Later, Red Hood told Nightwing about the Lazarus Pit catboy demon and described it as nightmarish as possible before adding that it was kinda twinkish. He also added "for the love of God dickwing, don't let demon brat adopt that thing"

In Damians defence, he found Danny asleep next to Alfred the cat in Batcows barn and just decided he was thier new cat. In other news hes far more concerned with hiding Danny From Catwoman than from father.

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #robin #damian wayne #can be dead serious #dead serious #ot it was supposed to be #something went wrong and now damian is adopting a catboy #like father like son i guess #danny has sharp little fangs and hes not afraid to flash them in threat #kitty instincts

[bloodypeachblog]

Vox x F!Reader NSFW drabbles/headcanons/fic

~~~♡♡♡~~~

I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning and this popped into my head. I had to write it down and post it. It's 7 am now. With that, I'm going back to sleep. Pink text is you, blue text is Vox. Enjoy!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk and anyone who loves Vox and/or Hazbin Hotel!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Imagine you're in a poly-friends-with-benefits thing with Vox and Val.

You guys fuck on the regular and you all have a great time.

But deep down, afterwards, you don't feel that satisfied.

Your body was satisfied, but not your heart.

You cared about both of them dearly, hell, even loved them.

But you knew that they would never feel the same.

Of course they wouldn't.

One night, after sex, you guys lay there in bed.

You laid between the two men, Val has his back to you on one side, and Vox was laying on his back on the other.

You just lay there, thinking.

Val broke your heart just a few moments ago and it hurt you more than you thought.

It wasn't an out of the blue thing, it wouldn't even bat an eyelash if every party felt it was nothing but sexual.

But it still hurt.

Once you all finished, there was a moment where you and Val looked into each others eyes.

You were hoping that he'd feel some sort of connection between you two, that there was something more than sex there.

But that wasn't the case. He just turned his back to you, not even saying a word other than 'night'.

You didn't expect it to hit you that hard, but as you laid there, your eyes held heartbreak and loneliness, like you would do anything for someone to hold you and love you.

You feel tears in your empty eyes and struggle not to cry.

"Hey.."

You hear Vox, breaking your train of thought. You turn to him and a tear drips down your cheek.

This causes his expression to change, turning towards you with a slightly worried gaze.

"Hey, what's wrong? You alright?"

You immediately wipe your tears away and laugh.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Guess the sex was that good, eh?"

Vox wasn't buying it.

He got on top of you and pinned you to the bed, his expression a stern one.

"Don't give me that bullshit. You're not okay. What's going on? Tell me."

There was no sweeping this under the rug. No forgetting it. He needed to know.

You can start feeling tears building up again and you say, "you promise not to laugh?"

"I won't laugh. Just tell me."

As you talked, tears started to well up and drip down your face as you spoke normally.

"Well, we fuck all the time, and it's great. But I always wanted something...more..you know? But you guys are so big and important, I don't even feel like I deserve to be here right now. I know it's stupid to expect anything like that from you guys. I mean, besides, who in their right mind would ever care about me, or even love me, right?"

You fake laughed as you said that last sentence, but he felt that pain like a plate of glass shattering in his heart and soul.

Oh, that hit home.

He knew exactly how you felt.

He may have been an overlord, but even he felt impostor's syndrome over it.

He'd never show it, but deep down, he felt like he didn't deserve to be as powerful as he was, to have everything he has.

That's why he made an agreement with Velvette and Valentino and formed the Vees, so he could feel important, like he was a part of something.

Everything seemed fine, but he felt so scared..

He felt it was just a matter of time until everything fell apart.

He knew neither of them would be there for him when things went bad. They wouldn't care about him, not one bit.

There was even one small, tiny shimmer of hope that he and Val could be something more, that there would be at least one person who genuinely cared, but he knew it'd never happen.

So hearing you say the words he was thinking and seeing the same look in your eyes was like looking into a mirror.

He gently cupped your cheeks and looked at you softly and only said two words.

"I would."

Before you could properly register what he just said, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips.

You were confused, but then you notice how he was kissing you.

This wasn't a lust-filled, makeout session to get you guys aroused and ready to go.

This was soft, tender, comforting. Like a warm blanket wrapped around you on a cold winter's night.

Then you realized what he said.

He would care for you and love you, not just that...he did.

You feel a few tears drip down your cheek as you closed your eyes and kissed him back.

You wrap your arms around Vox as the kiss continued. Your heart swelled and you could feel your body heat up once more.

Same went with Vox. As he shifted the kiss down to your neck and collarbone, he could feel himself getting hard again.

Everything felt so good, but this was much deeper, much more intense.

It wasn't too long until Vox slid himself inside you and started to thrust.

You moan as he lovingly thrust deep into you.

This wasn't him being quick just to get off; this was slow, no rush whatsoever.

It was like time had stopped just for you two to savor this moment.

The sound of Vox's soft groans and moans in your ear as he thrusted into you made your body heat up even more.

If you guys were louder, you probably would've woken Val up, but he was deep asleep, not hearing a thing.

Hell, he wouldnt care anyway, just thinking you two couldn't wait for him and decided to go together. No big deal.

Vox made sure to hit that deep spot in you, not chasing his own desires and instead trying to get you to cum as many times possible before he did.

But after a few hours (it felt like a few minutes with you two), you both could feel your climaxes building up, ready to explode.

Soon, Vox's thrusts became faster and slower, wanting to cum so badly but wanted you to cum first.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

Through the moans and the pants, it wasn't long until he hit that spot one final time and made you see stars.

As you came, Vox did something that you never expected.

He came inside you.

As you both came, he kept himself inside and let his cum fill you up.

Him and Val never did that before. They'd always pull out and let their cum land on your body and face while you came on nothing.

But this? This was a clear message to you, a declaration of love, he was wordlessly saying 'this is how much you mean to me. This is for you and only you. This is how much I love you.'

A tear escaped your eye at that realization.

Soon, you both lost your highs and collapsed on each other, Vox sliding to lay on his side, facing you.

He pulled you close and held you, like if he let go, you'd disappear and this moment wouldn't have ever happened.

You held him, your arms wrapping around him and your head resting on his chest.

You could hear his circuits buzzing, his heart beating. That was all for you.

The joy you felt was indescribable.

"I love you." You let those words fall out of your mouth without any hesitation.

You started to drift off, but you kept yourself awake to hear his response.

He gently rubbed your back and said softly, "I love you too.."

With that, you could finally doze off, knowing someone genuinely loved you as much as you loved them.

Vox fell asleep knowing that no matter what happened, even if he lost everything, he'd still have you, and he'd be okay.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox x you #vox x reader #vox x y/n #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbin valentino

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Christmas Star

!!There are spoilers in the warnings!!

Summary: On Christmas day, you had the realization you wanted to give your wife a gift that neither of you have talked about, a baby. In your eyes, Natasha was going to be a great mother and no matter what you had to go through you were going to give her, her Christmas gift.

Warning: birth, labor, contractions, miscarriage, c-section, blood lost, angst with fluff and a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.9k

You were standing on the porch of the Barton Homestead with a cup of coffee in your hands. It was lightly snowing as the Barton Kids and Kate and Yelena played in the yard. It was only 8 am, but you were exhausted. You and Natasha were up late with Clint and Laura to prepare for Christmas morning. Then Nathaniel woke up at 5 am. So, presents were unwrapped, breakfast was eaten, and the kids were dressed for the snow. It was a long day, but your heart was whole. You felt arms wrapped around your waist and leaned into her warmth. “I was looking for you, moya lyubov’.” She said, kissing your cheek. She played with the ring on your finger.

“Sorry, baby. I was watching them.” She hummed, burrowing her face in your neck. Her warm breath caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You and Natasha have been married for two years but together for 7. You weren’t an Avenger, a SHIELD agent, or a mutant. You were just an everyday citizen who happened to catch the eye of the Russian spy. You were a chief, and Tony Stark hired you and your team for a party. Right off the bat, Natasha started flirting with you, but you ignored her, focusing on doing a good job. Somehow, you woke up the following day with a text message from the Black Widow asking you out on a date. The rest was history. “Do you want kids?” You asked. Your wife’s arms tensed up. You spun around in her arms and ran your hands up and down her arms as a sign of comfort. “I know we haven’t talked about it.” The topic danced around as you knew Natasha couldn’t carry kids because of the Red Room. “But do you want them?” Natasha looked over her shoulder to watch the Barton kids. She sighed.

“Yeah, I’d love to be a mother.” She looked back at you. “But I can’t have them. We could adopt. I-”

“I can carry them.” You cut her off. She looked at you in disbelief. You grabbed her hands and rested them on your stomach.

“Are you serious about this?” She asked. You nodded.

“I haven’t been this serious about anything.” You chuckled. “Well, besides asking you to marry me.” Natasha had tears in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I asked you to marry me.” You shrugged, put your arms around her neck, and played with the baby hairs that didn’t fit into her ponytail. “We are going to be parents.” She said, pulling you into a hug and lifting you off the ground. You laughed, shaking your head. She was going to be a great mother.

*

You were pacing the bathroom while waiting for your phone timer to go off. Natasha was in a meeting, and you timed it so you would get the test result by the time she returned. It had been a few weeks from Christmas at the Bartons. With help from Helen, Bruce, and Tony, they combined Natasha’s DNA with a few of your eggs so your child would both be yours. You were extremely anxious. You wanted to give this to Natasha more than anything. The sound of your phone timer going off made you jump. With shaky hands, you picked up the test, and tears immediately ran down your cheeks as you looked at the tiny plus sign. “Baby, where are you?” You heard your wife ask. You whipped away the tears.

“Bathroom.” You turned around as the door opened.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, closing the distance between you and her. Before you could respond, she picked up the test. “Positive.” She said, looking at you. You nodded. The Russian dropped the pregnancy test and picked you up. You laughed as she spun you around. Your wife put you down, knelt so she was at eye level with your stomach, and lifted your shirt. She kissed your stomach softly. Her sweet gesture made you cry harder. She looked up at you with tears in her eyes. “We are going to have a baby.” She said. You nodded, cupping her face with your hands.

“You are going to be a mom.” She turned her head to kiss your palms.

“So are you.”

*

There was nothing that could prepare you for the weird pregnancy cravings. No amount of books you’ve read or researched online. Pregnancy cravings were wild. So you were in the Avenger’s kitchen making a dough of sugar cookies to drizzle chocolate and hot sauce over the top. It was….different.

As your alarm went off to signify the cookies were done, you put on the oven mitts and opened the oven. Pulling out the cookie tray, you gasped as a sharp pain ran through your stomach, and you dropped the tray. The metal clashing against the ground made you jump, causing another acute pain. “Mrs. Romanoff, it appears you are in a sign of distress. Should I alert the medical team?” The AI asked.

“Yes, FRIDAY,” you gritted out as your teeth clenched. “Tell Natasha.”

“As you wish.”

*

Natasha ran to the med bay as soon as FRIDAY alerted her of your medical emergency, leaving her meeting with Steve and Maria without another word. Part of her wish was that she could make portals like Strange so she didn’t have to wait for the elevator. As the metal doors opened and she walked into the med bay, Yelena awaited her. She wasn’t sure who alerted her sister, but she was grateful she was there. “Where is she?” Natasha asked her sister. Yelena held up her hands to stop her.

“Cho and Banner are with her.” She said.

“Is she okay? Yelena, I need to see her.” Panic spread through her at how quiet her sister was. You had to be okay. No matter what, Natasha could not lose you. The sound of a door open caused her to spin around, and she watched as Bruce walked out, closing it gently behind her. The Black Widow ran over to the scientist. “Bruce, is she okay?” Natasha couldn’t pinpoint the emotion on the doctor’s face.

“She’s okay, Nat.” he sighed. “But she had a miscarriage.” A miscarriage?

“Okay,” she simply said. “Can I see her?” She heard her sister’s footsteps walking up to her.

“She lost the baby,” Yelena said slowly. “You understand that, right?” She nodded. Of course, she knew what a miscarriage was. Before Laura was pregnant with Nate, she had a miscarriage. She called Natasha in a panic but tried to enforce that she didn’t need Clint. The Black Widow told Clint right away.

“I know,” she nodded again. “And it’s-” there weren’t words to describe everything she felt. “Yeah, but I need to see her, please.” Bruce smiled.

“Helen is with her,” he said. “She hasn’t said much since we told her the news.” Natasha wished they waited to tell them together. She buried the emotions that threatened to take her over and walked into the room Bruce existed from. As the scientist said, Helen sat beside you in the empty chair. She stood up as Natasha walked over to the bed and smiled sadly.

“Please let me know if you need anything.” The Black Widow couldn’t find anything as she moved next to you. You were curled underneath the covers with silent tears running down your cheeks.

“Hi, sweetheart,” You made no indication that you heard her. “Baby,” You silently reached for her hand and pulled her into the bed with you. Natasha moved behind you and wrapped her arms around you. You turned around to press your face in her shirt. Your body shook with sobs. “Sh, sweet girl. You’re okay.” You shook your head.

“I’m sorry.” The two-word phrase took a lot of work to hear.

“Why are you sorry?” She asked, kissing the top of your head.

“I lost our baby,” Natasha shook her head. She let you cry against her, but as your cries turned to quiet hiccups, she lifted your head.

“This is not your fault, my love. These things happen.” Your lips started to tremble. “I can’t imagine the pain you are going through, but this isn’t your fault, and I will remind you every single day.” You burrowed your head into her shoulder.

“I wanted to make you a mom.” You said. Natasha closed her eyes as she felt her tears. You were breaking her heart.

“I know, moya lyubov’,” she whispered, running her hand through your hair. “And we’ll try again when you are ready, or we can figure out another option, okay?” She felt you nod. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Natty.”

*

“Natasha!” You called out. You were standing in the master bathroom, looking in the full-length mirror.

“Are you alright?” Your wife asked, barging into the bathroom. You looked behind you.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Natasha huffed, placing a hand on her heart.

“You,” she took a minute to catch her breath. “You are going to give me a heart attack.” You giggled, holding out her hand. She took it, and you pulled her close, her front pressed against your back. “What’s going on?” Instead of answering, you placed her hands on your stomach. She looked confused, but her face morphed into awe. “Is that?” She whispered. You nodded. Getting pregnant took three more tries, but now you are carrying twin girls.

“They are little gymnasts.” Natasha laughed, looking down at your stomach.

“Be kind to your mother, little ones.” You turned around to kiss her.

“I love you so much.” You said against her lips.

“Not as much as I love you.” You heard the pounding of footsteps entering your shared bedroom.

“You better not be making me another niece or nephew.” It was your only warning before the bathroom door opened, and Yelena walked in. “At least wait till they are born before you start trying to have another.” You felt your body heat up from embarrassment, burying your head into Natasha’s neck.

“Suka (bitch),” Natasha said. Yelena laughed.

“The party is starting soon. We are just waiting for the guest of honor.” You rolled your eyes, stepped away from your wife, and grabbed your sister-in-law’s hand. When you placed her hand on your stomach, the blonde looked at you confused. "Whoa," she said when she felt the baby’s kick. “That is so weird.” You giggled.

“This is your tetya (aunt) Yelena.” Your Russian could have been better, but with so many people in your life who spoke the language, you figured you should learn it. The blonde had tears in her eyes, but she forced them away.

“I can not wait to get you all the loud toys and fill you with sugar.” You rolled your eyes with a kind smile. “Ya vsegda budu zashcishchat tebya (I will always protect you).” She smiled, whipping away a tear, and left. Natasha stood beside you with an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“What did she say?” You asked. She smiled, shaking her head.

“Nothing bad, I promise. Come on, let’s go to this baby shower.”

*

Christmas Eve

You couldn’t find the hat you wanted, which generally wouldn’t be a big deal, but at seven months pregnant, your emotions and hormones were all over the place. “Dorogoy, we are going to be late,” Natasha said.

“I can’t find my hat.” You pouted. Natasha was an angel throughout this entire pregnancy. She dealt with every pregnancy craving, morning sickness, and mood swing. You couldn’t have done it without her. She smiled at the pout on your face.

“And what hat is that?” She asked.

“The one Lila made me for my birthday. I wanted to wear it because she’ll be at the party.” You explained.

“I think she’ll understand. Come on, krasivyy (beautiful), we will be late.” You rolled your eyes. The party was at the compound, and since you lived on the property of the compound, it was a 5-minute drive. The house was a gift from Tony and Pepper when you announced you were pregnant. It was far enough from the compound to have a sense of privacy but close enough if Natasha had to be pulled away for Avenger duty.

“Can you go check my closet one more time for me?” You asked, putting on your best puppy dog eyes. Your wife huffed, rolling her own eyes.

“I will go look.” You smiled, standing up and kissing her.

“You are the best.” She kissed your forehead.

“Make sure you grab your coat, okay?” You nodded, walking to the front door as Natasha approached your shared bedroom. You opened the coat closet and grabbed your winter jacket. You heard a pop and felt pressure in your pelvic area. The black leggings you wore felt wet as if you went to the bathroom. You gasped, placing your hands on your stomach.

“I found it,” Natasha said, rounding the corner. You looked at your wife as she had the crochet hat in her hand.

“My water just broke.” You said. She stared at you blankly. You’ve never seen her so speechless. You groaned at the first contraction. “Natalia!” Her name snapped her out of her trance. She dropped your hat and grabbed your pregnancy bag in the same closet. You held onto her hand. “It’s too soon.” You said, squeezing her hand. “I can’t go into labor. I can’t.”

“Sh, dorogoy. We are going to call Helen on the way.” You nodded as Natasha helped you exit the house and into the car.

*

Natasha kept herself calm. She needed to because she knew if she freaked out, you would freak out. FRIDAY alerted the doctor and was already at the compound due to the Christmas party. You held onto her hand tightly each time a concentration passed. “Are you okay?” She cringed at the question. “Forget I asked that. That was stupid.” Of course, you weren’t doing okay. You chuckled, wincing as another contraction came through.

“It’s fine,” you said and rubbed your swollen belly. “You know I love you, right? Because I’m not sure I want to go through this again.” Natasha laughed, squeezing your hand.

“One way to kick off the holiday season.”

*

Helen opened up the passenger door and helped you into the wheelchair. “Well, isn’t this a Christmas surprise,” the doctor smiled and put a blanket over your lap. “They sure know how to make an entrance.” She began to push you towards the door to the med bay.

“They get that from you,” you said to Natasha over your shoulder. The Black Widow shook her head. You saw the worried edge on her forehead. She hated any time you were in pain or sick. The doors opened as Helen and Yelena, Wanda, and Laura got closer. The blonde Black Widow smirked.

“You know I was looking forward to getting drunk off of Stark’s expensive liquor,” you smiled, winching as another painful concentration passed through. The smile on your sister-in-law’s face fell.

“There may still be time for that,” Laura said. “Just because she’s having concentrations doesn’t mean the babies are ready,” the small group followed Helen to a room. “It may be a while.” The mother of three hugged you. Oh, you hoped it wouldn’t take forever.

“We’ll be waiting outside,” Wanda hugged you. Yelena placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m excited to get my drinking partner back.” You smiled.

“Alright,” Helen said. “Let’s get you all set up.”

“And on some pain medication.”

*

“You’re doing great, detka,” Natasha said, rubbing a spot on your lower back that was killing you. “Just keep breathing.” You groaned, hands grabbing the blankets that covered you on the hospital bed.

“Natasha, darling,” you said. “If you tell me to breathe one more time, I’m gonna punch you.” The hand on your back stuttered but never stopped its movement. Yelena laughed, shaking her head at your comment. She never stopped playing a game on her phone that Cooper and Kate got her addicted to.

“Your wife is funny,” she chuckled. The door opened, and Helen walked in, followed by a nurse. Her name was Heather, you liked her.

“Alright,” Helen put on a pair of gloves. “Let’s see how we are doing.” You heard Yelena stand up.

“That is my cue to exist,” she said. “I hope Wanda brought back some good food.” She left the room. Natasha chuckled, kissing the top of your head. Heather walked over to check your vitals with a clipboard in hand. You needed to figure out what Helen was saying. Your head began to feel light and fuzzy. The sound in the room turned to white noise, like in a Charlie Brown episode when the adults would speak. Your head fell against Natasha.

“Dr. Cho, the heart rate of mom and the babies are dropping,” Heather said. You felt Natasha tense up.

“What-?” Helen moved next to you and rested your head on the pillow, then shone a light into your eyes.

“Heather, prepare the team. We need to do an emergency c-section. Take Natasha out of the room.” What? No. You wanted her to say. Please don’t take her away.

*

Natasha felt the nurse grab her arm, but she shrugged her off. “Helen, what is happening?” The doctor looked at her.

“Nat, I need you to leave to save your wife.” Save her wife? Save her wife? What was happening?

“The-the babies,” you stuttered, your eyes couldn’t focus. Natasha leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Don’t leave me, dorogoy,” she whispered, leaving with Heather. The door closed in front of her.

“Nat,” she heard her name but couldn’t pull her eyes away from the door. “What happened?”

“Her uh and the uh twins heart rate started to drop,” Natasha explained. “She needs an emergency c-section.”

“Jesus,” Yelena mumbled.

“Hey,” Laura grabbed her hand and led her to a chair. Her legs collapsed immediately, and she fell into the chair. “C-sections are pretty common these days, especially with twins.” Wanda sat down next to her in the empty chair.

“She’s in the best care,” the witch added. “Helen will take care of her.”

“I can’t lose her,” Natasha admitted. Yelena knelt in front of her sister.

“And you won’t. She is strong. She and the twins will come back to you.”

*

“Will you stop pacing?” Yelena snapped at Clint. Kate squeezed her hand to keep her calm. The older archer kept pacing, not bothered by the blonde’s threat. As soon as word got out regarding your condition, the party was called off, and the hallway was filled with the rest of the team. Some came and went, but Natasha paid little attention to any of them. Her green eyes trained on the tile floor as she played with her wedding ring.

There was too much time passing. Does this surgery usually take this long? If there were a problem, they would have notified her. Right? Natasha hated feeling this useless. She heard Yelena stand next to her, and the blonde gave her a lap on the back of her head to get her attention. Looking up, she saw Helen.

“Congratulations, Natasha,” the doctor smiled. “You have two beautiful baby girls.” Everyone let out a sigh of relief, but Natasha waited. She was happy they were healthy but needed to know about you. “Your wife lost a lot of blood, but she’ll pull through,” Helen answered the Black Widow’s unanswered question. “We’ve sedated her to help her body recover, but once they wear off, she will wake up.” Natasha sighed; a weight that rested on her chest was gone.

“Can I see them?” Natasha asked. Helen nodded. The Black Widow stood up and silently asked Yelena and Laura to join her. When she entered your room, she saw two bassinets with her daughters, but she made a beeline for you. You were so still and pale for her liking. The only reassurance she had was the beeping of the machines you were hooked up to. Gently, she ran her hand over the top of her hand.

“They’re so small,” Yelena whispered. “Are they supposed to be that small?” Laura hummed.

“It’s because they are premature,” Laura spoke softly. “They’ll get bigger over time. Nat,” The Black Widow looked away from you. “You should be the first one to hold them.”

“Me?” She slowly joined the duo and saw her daughters for the first time. They were a perfect blend of you and her. “I can’t. I don’t-”

“Yes, you can,” Yelena said. “You are their mama,” she’s held a baby before, and that wasn’t the problem. She imagined the first she kept her daughters; you would be healthy enough to witness it. Sighing, she carefully picked up the tiny baby with your hair color. She supported her head and held her close to her chest. Natasha let out a breathless laugh, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re a natural,” Laura praised. Yelena leaned against Natasha’s arm to look at her niece.

“I can’t believe you made something this cute,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Thank you both,” she said. “Can you give me a minute alone?” They both told her to get them if she needed anything. When alone, she moved the bassinet over to you and sat in the empty chair. She sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the machines.

“Hi, little ones,” she softly spoke. “I’m your mama. Your mommy did such a great job protecting you, and now she’s resting,” she explained. “Now it’s my turn.”

*

Soft singing woke you up, but you kept your eyes closed. You knew it was your wife’s voice. It was rare you caught her singing. Sometimes, it was humming a simple tone or singing the words to a popular song on the radio you cherished each time you saw her. She would become flustered, cheeks as red as her hair. The song was in Russian. The fog that was over your brain was allowing a few words in. Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned your head towards the sound. Natasha was so invested in the tiny baby in her arms with hair that matched your own color that she didn’t notice you were awake. “Hi, my love,” you made your presence known. The singing stopped. “Are they okay?” Natasha stared at you, blinking a few times as if her brain wasn’t processing that you were awake.

“They are perfect,” Natasha said. “You are perfect.” You sat up, winching slightly. “Take it easy, data.”

“Can I hold her?” You asked, holding out your arms. Natasha stood up without hesitation and put your daughter in your arms. Once she was secure, Natasha picked up her sister and sat on the edge of your bed. “My girls,” you whispered, your vision blurring with tears. “My beautiful tears.”

“You scared me,” Natasha admitted and kissed the top of your head. “You gave me two healthy daughters, but it wouldn’t have mattered if you weren’t here to see it.” You leaned your head back and kissed her, savoring the feeling of her lips against yours.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “Has the team met them?” Your wife shook her head.

“Only Yelena and Laura,” she said. “I was waiting for you.” You smiled and looked at your daughters.

“You have so many people that love you already, little ones. They will protect you, spoil you, and hopefully babysit when your mama and I need a break,” Natasha chuckled. “Our little Christmas stars.”

“Merry Christmas, Elena, and Gabby Romanoff.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow one shot #black widow fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

[daintcas]

love tropes with rafe cameron !

enemies to lovers. the pogues are your best friends, he's the eldest of the richest family on the island. years of fighting among the two groups pinned you against each other, yet the tension between stolen glances couldn't be ignored. neither of you would admit - even to yourselves, how you desperately pined after the other. it felt like a betrayal, but when he comes up to you while being separated from your friends, you can't help but gaze up at him with big, star-struck eyes, nodding along to the sweet nothings he's trying to seduce you with. he knows it's wrong too, but you're so effortlessly irresistible, and he can't help but want you all to himself. the clueless pogue, just begging to be taken and cared for by someone like him.

best friends brother. after all the nights spent at tanneyhill having girly sleepovers with sarah, running into her scary older brother was inevitable. what you didn't expect, was how him brushing past you without a second thought would have you doing double takes throughout the mansion, yearning for even an ounce of attention. he didn't notice at first, disregarding you as another one of his sister's little friends. only when you gave up on your silly crush did he start to admire the pretty girl who was always around his house. plotting to get you attached by cornering you when left by yourself in corners of the house, taking advantage of the power he had to make you shy away and blush while batting your lashes oh so innocently up at him.

unrequited love. rafe is the definition of hook-up culture. going to parties under the influence to find a girl for the night, just to disregard her completely the next morning. but when he found you, he knew he wasn't letting you go so easily. staying over at the cameron's became normality, going out of your way just to please the boy you'd slowly been falling for. he liked you, more so liked the way he could have you however he pleased, whenever he pleased, and you'd let him. any form of affection he showed you'd willingly take until it became too much. the distance was noticeable and he only got the hint after you had been busy for a week straight. moving on didn't work, no other girl was like you, and that's when he knew he messed up. carelessly playing with the feelings he knew you had for him so he could have you, just one more night.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt

[kissingghouls]

SOFT PROMPTS ok ok...how about "you're shivering. here, take my jacket" with Mary x Reader ORRrrrr Secondo x Reader?? I can't decide

beloved anon. you were so right about this 💖✨

Winter Chill - Mary Goore x Reader

no warnings, relatively fluffy, kinda soft Mary, he/they Mary, first kiss, 2300 words

-x-

“He’s a dick,” a familiar voice states behind you. It’s followed by the tell-tale sound of spit hitting the pavement.

You’re not exactly surprised to find the silhouette of Mary Goore appearing like a ghostly apparition in the dim light of the porch. It was in their nature to just show up like that—especially when there was something to be said about your ex—but you were surprised by the lack of singsong taunting in their tone. Mary didn’t usually hold back when it came to voicing their distaste for him.

It’s obvious from their presence that they’d seen the confrontation inside—a fact that makes you feel slightly embarrassed as he shuffles around in the dark. The rotting wood of the aptly named Chaos House creaks under his boots, the thick soles landing with a thunk! thunk! thunk! as he stomps down a few steps and drops next to you. They shoot you a crooked, toothy smile and gently nudge you with an elbow.  “But you knew that already.”

“You’re a little late for an ‘I told you so,’ Goore,” you warn with a sigh. The breakup between you and that asshole was well beyond old news. There was next to no way Mary hadn’t heard and probably celebrated by now. Gossip travels fast in small towns, even faster in small social circles like yours.

“Aw c’mon,” he groans, arching his back to stretch his long legs like a cat. He pats down the pockets of his tight jeans and produces a pack of smokes and an old lighter. With a cigarette tucked between his teeth, he draws his knees back up before turning to you. “I’m not here for that.”

“Why are you here, Mary?” you ask softly.

Inside, the party swells with sound. A cluster of people all shouting to be heard while a metal band starts their set in the basement. It’s a mix of rumbling bass and the crack of drums with the occasional scream. The noise is just as normal as the hint of stale beer and body odor that permeates the old house. It’s as natural as the stains and cigarette burns on the weirdly orange tinted carpet that covers the stairs. Neither of you bat an eye as cymbals crash under your feet.

Mary flicks the lighter over their thigh, sparking it to life and drawing the flame toward their lips. They breathe deep, inhaling the toxic burn before leaning back on their elbows and letting out a puff of smoke. “To offer you a ride home.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to the metalhead sprawled on the porch next to you. Pale, bony knees jut out from the holes in his jeans. The trademark leather jacket covered in bright patches and studs hangs loose around his skinny frame as he reclines against the steps. Underneath their battle jacket the faded, well-loved t-shirt older than either of you is barely held together by more than a few threads. A shock of dark hair styled haphazardly hangs over those pretty green eyes that hadn’t moved from your face since he sat down.

It was a well-known fact that Mary couldn’t be trusted to operate a vehicle. Every time they’d tried had ended in varying degrees of disaster—one of which included a cliff.

“You can’t drive,” you remind him through a laugh.

“No, but I got you to smile.” He sounds triumphant, proud almost. “You got a good one, you know?”

“What?”

“Your smile. It’s…I dunno.” He shrugs and waves his hand through the air. “It’s…nice.”

“Goore,” you level. “Are you drunk?”

They shake their head and take a long drag. The orange glow of the embers hits just right, illuminating the places on his face painted white. The shadows are darker, the blurry edges of makeup smeared into the hollow of his cheeks look more intense in the dark like this. It’s a look you’ve appreciated once or twice before at other house parties or in the dim light of the local dive bar while you pretend not to notice how they only charge you for every other drink they slide your way.

Your heart skips as he grins up at you, dried fake blood cracking on his face.

“I’m sober as a judge, sweetheart,” they tell you as they sit up, a well-practiced smirk playing on their lips.

There’s a tightness in your chest again, a feeling so familiar around Mary. While this thing between you started a long time ago, you never took it too seriously. After all, you couldn’t take Mary seriously half the time. So, the teasing and light flirting never really meant anything and that was how the two of you had operated for as long as you could remember. It never went further than that because neither of you ever seemed to be single at the same time.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t found yourself a little curious from time to time.

The rumor mill spun both ways when it came to Mary Goore. Some days the story was they were some delinquent hellbent on burning the entire town to the ground. Other days there were tales of kindness that extended as far as feeding the feral street cats that lived in the alley behind their apartment. He was a loyal friend to the point of violence on more than one occasion, but everyone who dated them considered them a caring partner despite their apparent fear of commitment.

In your estimation, Mary was no different than anyone else—not all good or all bad, just another human trying to get by. When it came down to it, you’d rather have Mary in your corner than not. The fact that they were out here with you now, well, that just meant they already were.

“As a judge, huh?” you ask and lean forward to pluck the burning cigarette from his fingers. His eyes follow your movements as you set the filter between your lips and take an easy drag before offering the thing right back to him.

“Careful darlin’,” he warns, fingers brushing yours as he accepts. “These things are worse for you than I am.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

They raise an eyebrow, half-expecting you to follow up with a “just kidding” or a “not like that.” When you don’t their composure slips, and they struggle to hide a look of surprise mixed with a little bit of excitement. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, soft as the stubble poking through his makeup.

Those green eyes sparkle in the moonlight, watching as you stand and stretch your arms over your head. The wind picks up, carrying the undercurrent of much colder weather slowly moving in. It should be snowing by now, but the air is just a mist of wet fog soaking into everything without the beauty or smell of rain. The lawn is soft under your feet, little more than an oversaturated lump of clover and weeds that fails to connect the muddy patches from one end of the yard to the other. It’s all still as green as Mary’s eyes somehow, still thriving and you’re standing outside in a t-shirt next to Mary Goore in December.

The end of the cigarette whips past you and lands in a shower of orange sparks near the driveway. Mary leans up, the last little bit of smoke curling from their lips as the hole in the left knee of their jeans rips loudly.

“Aw, fuck,” Mary whines helplessly, leg now exposed halfway to the calf.

“C’mon,” you offer with a soft smile and hold your hand out to a guy who might or might not be trouble.

“Where are we going?” they ask, wiping their hands on their jeans as they stand.

“No idea,” you admit with a shrug. “Somewhere else.”

“Alright then,” Mary agrees with a grin and takes your hand.

You make it to the end of the block before you realize neither of you have let go. Their hand is warm and much larger than yours, their palm an odd mix of soft in places and calloused in others. For every step he takes, you take two to keep up though there’s no real destination in sight. Maybe you should have thought it through a little better, but being around Mary always made your brain a little fuzzy. And maybe that was why you’d avoided situations like this before—because the fear of something was too great. The risk of Mary was like jumping into a body of water completely blind. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Thrilling. Incredible.

The two of you walk east toward the river, passing patrons on the main drag crawling from one bar to another. A few toss looks your way, judgements whispered under their breath as they hurry by. If Mary notices, they hide it well. Their shoulders never seem to sag with the weight of what everyone else thinks you and him should be.

At the crosswalk you wait to pass and he rather impressively digs out another cigarette, lighting it one-handed. You’re unsure of how many cars pass under the stoplight or how many times the two of you miss your chance to cross, but you’re acutely aware of the way Mary looks wrapped in a haze of smoke and the city lights.

It’s not bad.

“Do I have something on my face?” they ask with an eyebrow raised, using the hand holding yours to pull you closer.

“Yeah, actually,” you respond playfully.

He frowns and pretends to swipe at his face. “Better?”

“Eh, your face is still there,” you tease with a shrug.

He tugs you even closer. “Don’t act like you don’t like my face, sweetheart.”

“It’s ok. I guess.”

“Just ok?”

It’s a question you barely hear. It’s not the rush of traffic or the random people walking past, but your heart hammering away in your ears that nearly deafens you. Warmth radiates off Mary like he’s the fucking sun. You know because he’s so close, close enough that you catch a hint of cologne under the nicotine and leather. And god those eyes, with them fixed on you like this you spot the soft flecks of gold they hide from everyone else.

You nod carefully. “It’s a good face. Ten out of ten. Would look again.”

He breaks first, averting his eyes as he struggles not to laugh. “I guess I better stick around so you can keep looking.”

“I appreciate the effort, Goore.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

You shake your head and let the moment fade as you pull them across the street.

Mary leads now, their other hand placed carefully at your hip as they guide you down the wet stairs. It’s dead quiet by the water. There’s never much of a crowd on the riverfront but this time of night it’s completely deserted. Traffic roars across the bridge overhead, a stream of bright red brake lights stretching across the river. You feel like you’re in another world entirely, tucked against Mary Goore of all people. You stand still, watching the gentle current roll over the rocky shore and pretend not to notice the way he moves closer and closer.

Winter arrives and surrounds the two of you within seconds as the wind picks up again. A blast of frigid, arctic air that smells like snow bites at the exposed skin of your arms. It’s cliche but as tears sting your eyes, you can’t help the chill that seeps into your bones.

“Huh. I think it’s gonna snow.”

Mary’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, barely more than a whisper. It’s a sharp contrast to all those times you’d seen them growl their way through songs about blood and corpses, but it makes the butterflies stir in your stomach all the same. Maybe there was something behind all those free drinks and flirty words. Something different.

The thought sends a shock through your body, the electric hum of realization. You like Mary.

He shifts slightly, turning his body toward yours. “Shit, you’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.”

Before you can say anything, they’ve shrugged out of the thing and wrapped you in soft, worn leather. You hide your hands in the sleeves, but they itch to reach out, to pull him in. The lining is still warm and it’s heavier than you expect, but none of it matters as Mary’s gaze falls to your lips.

But they don’t kiss you. At least, not in the way you thought they might.

“Goore?” you ask as they pull away slightly.

“Uh-huh?”

“Did…did you just…kiss my forehead?”

“Yep.”

“Instead of like…actually kissing me. You kissed my forehead?”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not just gonna put out for you because you expect me to.”

“Oh my god,” you huff with an annoyed roll of your eyes. “You—hmph!”

Mary cuts off your complaints by grabbing the lapels of the jacket and smashing his lips against yours. Your arms loop around their neck, pulling them as close as you can. There’s a warm hand pressed to the small of your back, under the jacket and under your t-shirt. Mary’s other hand tangles in your hair as they break the kiss to speak.

“Sorry darlin’,” they whisper. “You’re just so fuckin’ cute when you’re annoyed. I can’t help it.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Goore.”

It’s rough and brash when his mouth claims yours, and you think Mary kisses like he plays guitar—aggressive with a practiced ease. He nips at your bottom lip, practically melting against you when you let out a little whine in response. His tongue brushes yours and he tastes of smoke and something sugary you can’t quite place. It doesn’t matter anyway because your senses are filled with all things Mary and you’re content to keep them that way.

“Mm, I always knew you’d be trouble, sweetheart,” they groan as you press your body against theirs.

“Aw Goore, do you have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, actually. For so fucking long,” he admits freely.

You grin and lean up to kiss him again as tiny snowflakes begin to collect in his hair.

#anon prompt #my writing #mary goore x reader #mary goore fanfic #reader insert #x reader #repugnant fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

[mitsuyeaah]

TRAIL OF BROKEN HEARTS

TŌRU OIKAWA x f! reader

“cause i’ve made some real big mistakes but you made the worst one look fine. i should’ve known it was strange.”

cw: college au, older brother’s best friend!oikawa (older brother is iwaizumi ofc), mutual pining (but oikawa is dumb and doesn’t know how to handle his feelings), nsfw (mdni), slight angst, smut, drunk sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol use (brief), pet names (baby, pretty girl)

word count: 5.9k

a/n: for my pookie tōru!!! hehe of course i’m posting something for him, i’ve been having severe tōru brainrot and i just HAD to write. © divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

“Say it..” Oikawa panted, umber eyes staring intently at your own, clouded with lust.

Loud music that penetrated the thin walls of the frat house slowly turned mellow—the sharp beats, and bass that had vibrations coursing through your veins were drowned out as every minute passed. Occasional cheers of many intoxicated college students that littered the house were watered down into a muffled mess as your ears rang from the sheer tension slowly building inside the walls of this very room you were in. That’s right, it was only the two of you—you and Oikawa, all alone with the door locked behind him.

Your cheeks warmed under his intense stare, moonlight that seeped from the window casting a faint glow on the side of his handsome face, accentuating his features and bringing out its sharpness that you’ve grown to love—pools of endless hazel glimmering from the silvery light. You swallowed thickly, his hot breath fanning over your face as he waited for your response. Your skin burned under Oikawa’s touch, his hand rested on your hip, and the other planted on the pillow, just beside your head to brace his torso.

He needed you to say that you wanted him—all of him—before doing anything further with you. Yes, his head spun from the mix of lust and alcohol but he was still in the right mind to ask you whether you wanted this or not because after all, you were his best friend’s younger sister. God, there were so many things wrong with this but neither of you cared; not when you’ve already exchanged a passionate kiss before entering the room, moaning his name into his mouth as his lips desperately collided against your own.

Fuck, Oikawa had been waiting, waiting, and waiting for this. There wasn’t a day where his mind didn’t wander to you, sometimes wandering a bit too deep for his liking which usually ended up with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, desperately fisting it as your name escapes his parted lips. He’s been waiting long enough, and tonight was the night he decided to do something about whatever he felt deep inside. Oikawa knew he’d be dead if he ever told Hajime about any of this, which is why he kept it all to himself but it didn’t help how his fantasies drove him up the wall—his body yearning for you to the extent where he swore it was almost painful.

Everything that led up to this moment was a blur, kind of. All you knew was that Oikawa was all over you as soon as you stepped foot in the house. His hand wrapped loosely around your waist, him pulling you onto his lap, his lingering stares; normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at him since he effortlessly made you nervous in his presence but you blamed the alcohol in your system. Oikawa mentally cursed himself for being so mean by slightly rejoicing at the fact that his best friend—your brother—couldn’t make it to tonight’s party due to being rostered for a shift.

This was all new to you because Oikawa had never given you this much attention for the entirety that you’ve known him—the two of you weren’t even close. Your older brother, Hajime, being the middle ground for both you and Oikawa. There were small exchanges of formalities here and there but that was just about it but tonight was different, he followed you everywhere and you let him—like two celestial bodies locked in an endless orbit around each other, bound by gravity. But what exactly was this gravity for both of you?

There was this voice at the back of your mind that told you this was wrong. That this would end it a messy disaster, given his reputation—not only loved and adored by many women but also surrounded. A ladies’ man, if you must, all thanks to his popular history with volleyball. You’ve always known deep down that Oikawa would never reciprocate your feelings because he merely saw you as Hajime’s younger sister, and acted like nothing but an older brother to you. But up until now, everything you believed didn’t seem so believable anymore; not when Oikawa had you underneath him, eyes blown with pure lust.

Maybe this time, this time you’ll shut out that pesky little voice in your head because you wanted nothing more than him—the man that’s got you trapped between his body and the mattress in a stranger’s bedroom, your brother’s best friend. Whatever comes after this, you’ll face head on but you trusted Oikawa to handle your heart gently despite the trails of broken hearts he’s left behind—something in you knew he wasn’t going to let you down. Nonetheless, you prayed to the stars above that you were right about this. About him.

Pleasure now, consequences later.

“I want you..” You breathed out, chest heaving up and down as your breaths became shallower with every passing minute.

Oikawa cursed under his breath before dipping his head down to kiss you. This time, his kisses weren’t as eager as earlier, they were slow and sensual; cherishing every second the way your pillowy lips moved against his own, and how it felt. The desperation behind Oikawa’s kisses were long gone, like he was rest assured that you weren’t going anywhere else, that you chose to be here with him. You reached your hands out, shakily grabbing the collar of his shirt as he shoved his tongue past your lips.

He placed a knee between your legs, situating it under your skirt, right at the apex where you needed him the most but he didn’t dare move it; it drove you absolutely crazy, the pressure on your cunt was there but it wasn’t enough to elicit some kind of pleasure—it also didn’t help how there was no friction at all. Whining into his mouth, you moved your hips up and down, grinding your clothed cunt against his knee. Oikawa pulled away from the heated kiss, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk as he watched you desperately rut your hips into his knee. “How eager..” His tone was saccharine, sweeter than what he usually uses around other women.

If Oikawa was being honest right now, he was completely shitting himself. Not because it was his first time, no, but because it was you. You weren’t some other woman who would fall to his feet from mere flirtatious expressions which were often not genuine—hell, he’s pretty sure you never even saw him as a man but instead just another older brother figure. Oikawa knows this was wrong, completely wrong; he won’t blame you if you were confused out of your mind right now, given how he’s been acting neutral towards you for the past years you’ve known each other, and now suddenly he was all over you.

It was like he was put in a trance as his eyes wandered across your features. Fuck, you looked so pretty and it was all for him. Oikawa hastily grabbed the hem of your blouse and yanked it above your head, exposing the white lacy bra you donned underneath—his eyes traced your front, from the valley of your breasts down to your stomach. You were only half naked and yet you already left him speechless.

Oikawa didn’t hesitate to strip down to his underwear, he also didn’t give your eyes enough time to wander down his torso by flipping your skirt up and parting your legs further. At this point, the alcohol coursing through his body made him hornier and more impatient. He planted your feet on the bed, bringing your knees up before peppering your inner thighs with sloppy, wet kisses that earned small whimpers from you—Oikawa held your gaze as he kissed your clothed cunt.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you stared at his lustful gaze, your hands gripping the hem of your skirt at his lewdness. It wasn’t your first time having sex with someone but Oikawa was just so different from the ones you’ve slept with—so lewd, so dirty, and not as adventurous as the other’s you’ve had. “O-Oikawa.. Haah..” A moan slipped past your lips as he licked the wet spot on your underwear, the tip of his tongue stiffening to apply pressure at your sopping entrance.

“Hmm? So wet f’me already..” You threw your head back at the friction from his fingers that were rubbing up and down your clothed cunt. Oikawa’s smug smile widened as the wet spot on your panties grew from his ministrations, earning another moan from you as you clenched around nothing. “Oikawa, please. I want you in me..” You whined, the warmth from your cheeks spreading to your ears as you held his gaze. You didn’t miss the way his hazel eyes glimmered at your pathetic plea.

He tilted his head to the side, fingers still rubbing at your clothed cunt, “Oh? It looks like you don’t want me at all, baby. Your begging sounds pathetic.” The drunken words he slurred earned a slight whimper from you. You felt defeated that he was making you beg more for him when you were already as impatient as you could get. “Mhm.. Please, Tōru..? Fuck. I want your cock inside me.”

Oikawa would’ve asked you to beg for him more if you didn’t use his first name. Fuck, something about the way his name rolled off your tongue made his cock twitch. He used to fantasise about you moaning his name underneath him, and now that it’s right in front of him, he won’t let it go any time soon.

“Let’s get these off first, hm? Show me yourself, pretty girl.” Oikawa skilfully snaked his hands behind your back to unclasp the lacy restriction on your chest. Before you could even compose yourself, he eagerly pulled your bra from your chest—goosebumps immediately forming from the cool night air. “Oikawa, h-hold on..!” Your arms defensively crossed over your chest, hiding your breasts from his view. “Mmm, there’s no reason to hide from me is there? After all, I’m going to be fucking that sweet cunt soon.” Oikawa circled his hands around your wrists, gently tugging them out of the way and pinning them on either side of your head to expose your breasts.

He bit his lip at the view. Fuck, it was just like how he imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your heart pounded against your chest, getting extremely shy from the way Oikawa was eyeing your breasts a little too long for your liking. He let out a breathless laugh, not missing the way you turned your head to the side from embarrassment. He slowly let go of your wrists to cup at each mound, his large palms perfectly covering the entirety of each breast.

Your lips parted to let out a soft moan, face contorting in pleasure as Oikawa massaged your breasts—he switched between squeezing the supple skin and lightly pinching at your hardened buds, earning a small yelp from you. “Baby, as much as I’d love to spend more time playing with your tits, I’m sure we both have one thing in mind.” He gave you a saccharine smile before placing a chaste kiss on the valley of your breasts.

Oikawa pulled back to remove the last article of clothing he had on, your keen eyes watched as he slowly pulled down the fabric, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen as he fully exposed himself. You bit your lip at his cock, your gaze tracing every ridge along his shaft. Not only was it pretty but fuck, was it long. Pride swelled upon Oikawa’s chest as he saw the way you keenly eyed his cock. You watched as he wrapped a hand around the shaft and languidly stroked it, throwing his head back in pleasure.

As if on instinct, you sat up from the mattress with your hands jutted, wanting to grab his pretty cock—your head spun a bit from the swift movement. “Ah, ah, ah. There’s another time for that, my pretty. I want to be inside you right now.” Oikawa grabbed your shoulder and gently pushed your torso back down on the mattress before climbing over your body once again.

Another time? Was that a sincere promise or an empty one? You couldn’t help but think.

With your skirt flipped up, he pushed aside your soaked panties to tease his tip at your wet entrance. You threw your head back at the raw skin contact, allowing Oikawa to dip his head down to pepper your collarbone with open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck.. P-Please just put it in, ‘Kawa..” “Mhm, that’s Tōru for you.”

Oikawa breathlessly chuckled against your skin, and before you could retort, he pushed the blunt tip of his cock past your wet folds, earning a whine from both of you. Your hands flew to wrap around his torso, nails gently scratching at his back as he pushed his cock in inch by inch—tracing every dip and curve of his back muscles. Oikawa’s eyes rolled back at the sensation of your nails running down his back, sending a shiver up his spine as the pleasure within him grew.

“S-shit..! You’re so fucking tight, huh? This pussy is taking me so well—aah!” He let out a heated gasp as you clenched around him, his arms trembling and almost giving up from it. “Ngh! Just put it all in, Tōru.. I can take you.” Oikawa almost moaned out loud, not only did you use his first name again but you also reassured him that you could take his length just fine. That there was no need to hold back with you. His arms wobbled as he pushed the rest of his length in.

With his cock fully sheathed inside you, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a long loud whine. Oikawa stayed that way for a while, heavy pants leaving his lips as he pulled himself together. Fuck, you were squeezing him so good. His nails dug deep into his palms as you scratched his back once again from the way the blunt tip of his cock kissed your cervix, he was about to lose his mind and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. “What? Best pussy you’ve had?” You panted, one hand snaking up to play with his chestnut strands.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve retorted with something cockier but what you said was true. He’d been fantasising long enough about your sweet cunt but he didn’t know it was going to be this good. Too good. “Of course.. And it’s all mine, yeah? Fuck, this pussy is all mine and no one else’s.” He lifted his head from your neck to meet your gaze—his cheeks were now a shade of crimson, lids heavy from lust.

“Yes, Tōru. All yours. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t miss the way Oikawa sucked in a sharp breath as he held your gaze. Both of you knew there was weight to your words—it had meaning behind them, and not spurred like a drunken, meaningless confession at the heat of the moment. But that was reserved for the morning, at least.

He pulled his hips back and started thrusting while giving you a passionate kiss, earning a loud muffled moan from you. Oikawa couldn’t believe this was actually happening and fuck, it was definitely much better than having a hand around his cock while imagining it was your cunt. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, and heated moans bounced around the thin walls of the room as he picked up his pace. Fortunately, these erotic sounds coming from the two of you were enough to be drowned out by the loud music originating from the living room.

Normally, Oikawa would’ve had you in a ‘face down, ass up’ position just like with the other girls he’s had—mainly because it was his favourite position but something about being in missionary with you was different, despite how boring he thought the position to be; Oikawa wanted to see the entirety of you, how you reacted to the pleasure he gave you, your breasts bouncing with every sharp thrust of his hips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. All of it. Not to mention how intimate the position was, being able to look into your pretty eyes as he pounded into you, and whisper sweet praises that only you can hear.

“F-fuck..! So tight for me—ngh! Just like how I ima—aah! ..How I imagined.” Oikawa rested his forehead against your own, his hot breath fanning over your face as he angled his hips to drive his cock deeper. You let out a broken moan at the feeling of his heavy balls slapping your ass over and over again which each thrust; the slapping was so harsh that it felt like your skin was burning but fuck it burned so good. “Ha—aah! Tōru..! So so good—ngh!” Oikawa breathlessly chuckled at your broken moans before grabbing your leg to prop over his shoulder, driving his cock deeper into you.

You arched your back at the new angle, a heated gasp leaving your lips in the form of his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Oikawa held onto the headboard with one arm, the other one planted beside your head before moving his hips harder and faster, causing the bed to squeak loudly. His lips were parted, endless desperate whines escaping as his pretty face contorted in pure bliss—his sounds definitely did not disappoint, they were breathy and higher in pitch, so desperate and needy. His moans and whines went straight to your cunt, making you wetter with each erotic sound that came from the man above you.

“Mhm—aah! Yeah? Better than any dick you’ve had, right? Haah! Of course it is..” You clenched around him, earning a loud heated gasp, and his head bowing in pleasure. “So perfect f’me, my pretty girl..” Oikawa whined, bringing his lips closer to yours—he had a hard time chasing them due to your body jolting from his quick, rough thrusts; his own lips were parted, sloppily kissing you with desperation.

Your moans increased in pitch as the familiar knot in your stomach was slowly starting to thin, and ready to snap any time soon. “Ah..! Haah..! T-Tōru—ngh! I’m cu—ah! I’m cumming!” You tugged at his hazel strands, back arching off the mattress as your limbs started to tingle with pleasure. Oikawa moaned against your sweaty skin at the feeling of his hair being pulled, he had his face buried on your neck, his whines and whimpers loud against your ear. “Y-Yeah? Mhm—ah! Fuck! That’s right, cum for me, my pretty.” He trailed wet kisses along the side of your neck and up your jaw, leading to your lips.

“Look at me. Look at me when you fucking cum so you know who’s cock is making you feel this good—haah!” He pulled away from the heated kiss, grabbing your chin to keep his gaze on him by using the hand that was previously on the headboard, while the other rubbed tight circles on your clit. You looked up at Oikawa, his umber hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, no longer swept in a neat hairstyle. His lips were red, and swollen, parted to let out heavy pants while staring into your eyes. Fuck, he was beautiful. You couldn’t help but think that all the other women he’s had have seen this view before as well.

Oikawa looked down at you, eyelids threatening to close from immense pleasure but he didn’t dare give in, he wanted to see your face while you came around his cock—the face he’d been fantasising about since the day he realised he had feelings for you. Your face contorted in pleasure as the knot deep in your stomach finally snapped, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you screamed in silence, orgasm washing over your entire body as you came around him. Oikawa cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your face while breathlessly whispering sweet nothings as you two locked gazes. Your body trembled with a cry of his name, pleasure shooting up your spine, “Tōru..!” “F-Fuck! I’m here, baby.. Ngh!—So so good for me..” He whined desperately as you clenched around his cock, his hips stuttering.

“I—aah! Inside..” You moaned, head lolling to the side as you came down from your high. Oikawa didn’t know if he heard that right or he was just drunk, “Wha— Huh..?” Your words definitely sobered him up a bit but it made his head spin. “Cum inside me. Please, Tōru.. I want all of you.” He cursed under his breath, giving you a few more hard thrusts before letting go. Oikawa sheathed his cock deep inside you and held your torso against him, his arms securely wrapped around your trembling body as he lifted your back off the mattress.

With your chests pressed against each other, he gave you quick shallow thrusts as he came, fucking his cum deeper into you while moaning you name close to your ear. The leg that was propped on his shoulder burned from the stretch but you didn’t care, not when he was fucking you this good. “A-aah! Fuck..! That’s it—ngh! God, I love you so much.” Oikawa whined as he pressed his fingers against your back, the last bit of his hot cum spurting inside you. The two of you plopped down on the mattress with a soft thud, his head buried in the junction of your neck, letting out heavy pants as he tried collecting himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, your hands gently playing with his messy hair as you stared up at the ceiling, realisation slowly washing over you as you sobered up more than ever. Instead of catching your breath, it turned into panicked ones, realising that you’ve had sex with your older brother’s best friend. Oikawa noticed this and looked up at you, holding your panicked gaze as you were already looking down at him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I love you? Did he really mean that or was it just from the heat of the moment? You definitely heard him say it, so you knew you weren’t just making it up, not when his lips were that close to your ear.

How foolish, you thought. What happens now? Worry settled in as you remembered the trail of broken hearts he had behind him. You knew it was wrong to judge a person this way but everyone—your brother included—was aware of the relationships Oikawa had. Yes, no one is perfect but yet most—if not all—his past relationships weren’t ideal, and some didn’t even last more than a month long while some clearly were just a one night stand. Was that where you stood with him? Just a one night stand? You let out a shaky exhale, “Tōru—” Oikawa cut you off with a sensual kiss, his lips eagerly moving against your own as if he had an idea of what was about to come next.

This didn’t make you feel better. You didn’t know why but there was something in your mind telling you that he wasn’t going to leave you hanging like this; your mind suddenly went back to earlier tonight, where Oikawa basically gravitated towards you, following you wherever you went. You felt something back there, like he wasn’t holding himself back anymore—not selling himself short like what he’s been doing for all the years you’ve known each other. Like he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He broke away from the kiss, umber eyes tracing your features as his thumb gently swiped your bottom lip. “D-did you really mean that..?” You stared into his eyes but he didn’t return your gaze nor answered the question, “Shhh.. Let’s just stay like this for a while.” Oikawa rolled over to the side, wrapping his arm around you from behind and resting his chin atop your head. You stared at the wall in front of you, unmoving and mind racing with unwanted thoughts. No matter how much his hand massaged your hip, it didn’t put you at ease because now you didn’t know where you stood with Oikawa after sleeping with him. Fuck, how were you even going to face your brother? What would he think of you?

Shit. You wouldn’t even know how to face Oikawa the next time you see him after this, that is, if you do see him. Not only did unwanted thoughts plague your mind but you also felt disgusting. For doing something like this with your brother’s best friend; yes, you’ve had feelings for him for as long as you could remember but did he even reciprocate them? Or did Oikawa just stick beside you tonight because you both had alcohol and he wanted to get in your pants? No. He asked you earlier if you really wanted this with him and you said yes.

Maybe you weren’t so foolish after all. Or so you thought.

It had been a few days since that night and you were fucking restless. Every single time your phone chimed from a notification, you’d be quick to grab it, hoping it's from the man you’ve been wanting to hear about but disappointment washes over you when his name doesn’t pop up. Panic builds up as the days pass without hearing anything from Oikawa. You didn’t even know why you were waiting, it wasn’t like he owed you anything but you just thought that maybe it would be different for you. It also wasn’t like he was obligated to contact you, maybe you really were just a one night stand for him, and that attraction you felt was one sided. Were you just really imagining it all? Were you just waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen?

“Iwa-chan!” You were pulled back from your trance as you heard a familiar voice coming from the living room, where Hajime was. Closing your notebook, you stood up from your desk and took a few steps before peeking through the slight crack of your door to see Oikawa happily chatting with your older brother. Your heart skipped a beat upon seeing his face, legs tingling with eagerness to go to him but what would you even say? It’s not like he promised you a relationship that night nor did he confess his feelings. You couldn’t help but remember those three words he told you but at this point, it looked like it was just from the heat of the moment. Those three words probably didn’t have any weight to it like it did when you stated that you were all his.

You stiffened as your brother called out your name, instinctively ducking down as if he caught you peeking. Making your way out of your room, you tried to act as normal as possible. “We’re going to head out for a bit. Do you want anything?” “Mmm, any food is fine. Thanks..” You replied before shifting your gaze to Oikawa who stared off to the side, not even acknowledging your presence. Normally, he would smile at you whenever he came over or even give you a pat on the head while he greets you. Hajime nodded before ushering his best friend out the door, Oikawa didn’t even look back. Not even once.

The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the whole apartment, and you were left with your mess of feelings. Ah, so he’s ignoring me, you thought. You didn’t even know why you were feeling this way. Was it because you hoped for something more given the feelings you’ve held for Oikawa for the past years? You sat on the couch, not knowing what to do—your mind kept replaying the words he said to you that night. How he told you he loved you; how he said he’s been imagining you in ways you didn’t even know. What was the meaning of that? You knew better than to believe these words given how his personality is but you couldn’t help hoping that there was at least some kind of feeling behind them.

You buried your face in your palms, letting out a deep sigh. You couldn’t even get angry at Oikawa because he never led you on in any way. For him, what happened that night was just plain sex but for you, you thought he was finally seeing you in a different light and not just his best friend's younger sister. And now you’re left with nothing but confusion. Another statistic to the trail of broken hearts that he wore like a cape, dragging behind him. You were frustrated at yourself for letting your feelings completely overtake your common sense.

A few days turned into a week but nothing changed for you. Oikawa was still on your mind but he never reached out to you—not that he was obligated to but you figured it was necessary, given his deep-rooted friendship with Hajime. At least a little discussion about that night would’ve helped you with your thoughts a bit but no, your mind was still a swirling mess. You cursed yourself every time you remembered your foolish mistake, you knew what you were getting yourself into and yet you bit onto the bait without thinking about the dire consequences to not only your feelings but also your relationship with Oikawa.

Maybe after all, you were just imagining it. That was the easiest fact there was—being delusional because you had feelings for him, so you instantly misread what he told you that night. You looked into words that never had a meaning behind them. Baseless sentences that held no feelings.

Deciding to study at a nearby café on a whim, you enter the cosy shop, the distinct aroma of roasted coffee beans and warm atmosphere of the café immediately putting your mind at ease. The café was filled with the soft chatter of customers, and the sounds of the coffee machine. Before taking a few steps to the counter where the cashier stood behind, you noticed a familiar brown-haired man sitting at one of the tables, and he wasn’t alone. Your heart skipped a beat as Oikawa already had his hazel gaze on you, his expression somewhere between surprised and panicked. He noticed your gaze drift to the person who sat in front of him—a woman—who happily talked about something you couldn’t exactly hear.

Seeing Oikawa with other women wasn’t new to you. After all, you’ve known him long enough for you to become accustomed to this sight despite your heart breaking a little. Throughout the years, you’ve managed to patch up the little cracks in your heart whenever you saw him with someone else—whether it be the flavour of the week or a relationship that lasts for a month but today, seeing him with a woman after being intimate with him was enough to break your heart into pieces. What you did next was purely out of instinct, your feet moved on their own, hasty steps out of the café just to get away from Oikawa; you didn’t know where you were going but you wanted him out of sight.

You knew you were being a complete idiot for acting this way. Hell, why were you even running away from him? Stupid. Foolish. Why am I acting like this?! You thought. You let out a shaky sigh, your nails digging into your palms as you swiftly walked down the footpath, trying to forget the way Oikawa’s face looked when he saw you.

The sound of shoes loudly hitting the concrete footpath behind you suddenly filled your ears, you stopped in your tracks as he called out your name—you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Oikawa knew exactly why he chased after you, it was almost like a reflex for him given how fast he stood up from his seat to run to you. He’s aware he’s been ignoring you for the past week, and he also knows it’s probably shitty of him to suddenly chase after you like this but Oikawa’s got a sinking feeling that if he didn’t chase after you, you’d slip away from his grasp. Forever.

Turning around, you crossed your arms over your chest as if to shield your naked heart. “What do you want, Oikawa?” He winced not only at your tone—sharp, and cold—but as well as the use of his last name. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest; you watched as he opened his mouth but no words came out, gears turning in his head to find the right thing to say to you. “I meant it.” Oikawa held your gaze, brows knitted together. You knew what he meant by that, it was the answer to the question you asked him that night. You sucked in a sharp breath, heart pounding against your chest as if it was ready to leap out and jump straight into his hands like it belonged there—to be cherished, and loved.

As much as you wanted to jump with joy that he did, in fact reciprocate your feelings, it was anticlimactic. The overwhelming hurt and confusion you’ve felt for the past week was just consuming you. “I-I don’t..” You trailed off, not knowing what to say to him, especially when his umber eyes stared at you with such desperation. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this; he was usually a man of many expressions—mostly full of cunning, and ingenuine smiles but this one you haven’t seen.

“Look. I know I fucked up. I really do love you. I don’t know why I ran away—no I do know. I was scared because I’ve never been so serious about a woman, let alone my best friend’s younger sister.” He scratched his nape, taking a step closer to you. You watched him in silence, a wordless invitation for him to keep going.

Oikawa let out a shaky sigh. “I know saying sorry and this half assed explanation isn’t enough but.. these feelings I’ve had for you.. they’ve been here for as long as I could remember, and it fucking sucks that you had to find out through this mess. That night.. I don’t regret anything but I did wish it could have happened without any of these consequences. I know I’m asking for a lot but.. can we start again?” It was your turn to sigh, “It’s not that easy, Tōru.. but it really isn’t your fault as well.” Oikawa’s face softened at the use of his first name. “I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into. I admit that maybe I was just being a bit dramatic about this whole thing because I had feelings for you but looking back at it, there’s really no reason for you to be apologising..”

You took a step closer before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Oikawa blinked, taken aback by your sudden action, nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around you—still trying to process the fact that you actually like him back. “T-That woman back there, we were meeting up for a project..” You chuckled at his reply before looking up at him to meet his hazel gaze, “There’s no need to explain to me, you know?”

Before he could reply, you smiled at him,

“I want to start again, Tōru. This time, no running away from our feelings?” “No running away.”

© mitsuyeaah

#oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut #oikawa angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq fanfic #hq oikawa #hq smut #hq angst #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #haikyuu fic #hq fic #hq fandom #tooru oikawa #toru oikawa #oikawa #tooru #haikyuu!! #haikyu smut

[azsazz]

Lean into Me

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: I’m begging you to write for Ruhn or Ithan from CC (After all Ruhn Danaan knew three things with absolute certainty 😏)

Warnings: Not really any spoilers for CC I don't think...but plz mention anything you see 💙

Word Count: 1,080

Notes: Trying something new here, hopefully you like!

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Ruhn hasn’t moved in an hour.

An hour since your inebriated self had collapsed on the crowded couch next to him and cuddled up into his side, eyes bright with the drink nearly sloshing over the rim of your cup and onto his shirt. Ruhn didn’t care if it did, he’s wearing all black for fucks sake, but he had taken it from you nonetheless, heart fluttering in his chest when your lower lip jutted out in a pout. He wanted so badly to lean forward and nip at it, suck it into his own mouth and run his piercing against it to see your reaction.

Instead, he’d smirked, settled back into the couch, brushing your hair from your face when you placed your head on his shoulder, kicking a thick boot onto the coffee table littered with pipes and butts and tins of mirthroot. The air inside his home is thick with it, and the familiar scent he inhales deeply helps to calm his racing heart down.

Until you’re nuzzling into his neck. Dec and Flynn snicker from their spots in the surrounding chairs, passing a thick roll of the drug shaped in an intricately formed dragon around the smoke circle. The head of the dragon is lit and Dec takes a long drag inwards from its tail, holding it deep in his chest while he passes the blunt to Flynn, before exhaling the smoke Ruhn’s direction in rings, which the fae male bats away with a glare.

“What?” Dec grins wolfishly, the whites of his eyes red and lids lowered blissfully over amber eyes. Flynn chokes, waving the greedy hand reaching out for the drug as he falls into a fit of coughs. “Just giving you a little smokey confidence.”

Ruhn rolls his eyes but the hair on the back of his neck stands as your lips part and you release a soft sigh that feels oh-so right against his skin. Your eyes have drooped closed and your body leans heavily into his side, utterly comfortable with falling asleep at his parties if he’s the one looking after you. You trust Ruhn with your life, with more if you ever mustered the courage to tell him how you really feel.

Flynn’s voice is nothing but a rasp as he joins in the teasing, “He’s gonna need much more than that, Dec. He hasn’t made a move in years, what makes you think he’s going to now?” 

The glare Ruhn sends his asshole friends doesn’t faze them in the slightest. His fingers tighten on the cup he’d taken from you, and the plastic will be crushed if he doesn’t calm down. Ruhn drains the contents with a grimace. Whoever had made you this drink had been more intent on getting you drunk than it actually tasting good, which, he could admit, was pretty much the point of his parties anyways.

“Don’t know what he’s been waiting for,” Declan replies, and are they still not over this yet? “Clearly she’s into you.”

Ruhn glances down at you to make sure you’re still asleep. Your fingers are clutching his arm, so close to where the skin is fucked and covered with ink. You don’t know, no one really knows why he has them, but he thinks that if you ask, he’d find himself telling you.

Are you into him though? You’ve been toeing the line of more than friends for years–flirty jokes and the occasional drunk touches, but neither of you had let it go further than that, burying your feelings deeply inside yourself so as not to ruin the friendship you share.

Ruhn’s a playboy. Always fucking this fae or that shifter, he hadn’t been ready to settle into a more exclusive relationship and you were never bothered by it, it was just the way that it was; their faces his strong hands would be cradling, his long, dark hair they’d tug on, his piercing they felt whenever he’d put those plush pink lips to work.

You’re way too good for him. He’d fucking ruin you in more ways than one.

“Fuck off,” he growls, tossing the empty cup their way. Their movements are sluggish from the mirthroot and it hits Flynn in the chest, droplets of leftover booze speckling his shirt and face like the freckles smattering his cheeks.

“Can smell it from here,” Flynn scrunches his nose. He’s clearly not sensing the tone in Ruhn’s voice, even Dec slaps the fae male on the arm in warning.

Ruhn’s had enough. One hand hooks under your knees, the other supporting your back as he lifts you into his arms with ease. It’s a gentle motion, one that has you rousing only slightly, to wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle further into him, setting his heartbeat racing once more.

He leaves his roommates at the circle, ignoring their parting catcalls because they’re free to do so now that his hands are full. They know that Ruhn wouldn’t dare drop you to come at them, you’re much too important to him than that.

“C’mon Deer,” he whispers against your temple as you part, headed up the stairs towards his room where the music isn’t so loud and you can be alone. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Deer, because you’d accidentally walked in on him and a deer shifter once upon a blue moon. It had started off as a joke and stuck, both of you using it as a term of endearment to make the other smile. Now, it has a different meaning to Ruhn, because he wishes that it had been you instead.

You hum softly, and he can barely pick it up over the pounding bass that’s rattling the walls, even with his fae hearing. “I like the sound of your heartbeat.”

His chest rumbles with laughter and you can’t help but smile along with him. You’re tired, but you force your eyes open to look at him as he chuckles, his smile your favorite thing in the world. 

And just as you thought, he takes your breath away. Ruhn is already looking down at you, the deep blues of his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. His smile stretches wide and your gaze brushes over that lip ring because you just can’t help yourself this time. 

“Perfect,” he breathes, taking you in.

You haven’t heard his admission over the loud music. “What?”

Ruhn answers, loud enough for you to hear, to feel it in your bones. “You’re perfect.”

#ruhn danaan #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn x reader #crescent city #house of earth and blood #house of sky and breath #azsazz

[inklore]

wild child, i want you.

part two | series masterlist

premise: coming back to hawkins for your summer vacation from college is the last thing you want to do, but you find yourself back in your hometown and it all goes to shit in a matter of weeks. thinking your summer is already a bummer, getting high with the town outcast doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, blowjob (eddie’s first one, he’s a lil virgin in this sorry y’all), drug use, cheesy flirting, past crush unmentioned but there, tiny bit of praise kink, i made eddie’s van cooler than it actually is, reader is a lil self absorbed but it’s ok, mentions of past bullying, class difference, and shit family dynamics.

etc: i may write a part two for this, may turn it into a little mini series depending on the love i get on it. but um this boy is the cutest little virgin and no one can convince me otherwise ok thnx. title from the song wild child by wasp aka a song on this verysexy playlist!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

“Shit! Fuck!”

The sounds of aggravation that erupts from your throat are anything but ladylike. The moon shining down just right in the sky to show the hunk of mud that’s now stuck on the top of your red pumps. Pumps that cost too much to be covered in dirt and grime, and yet here they were. Ruined.

All because you had stormed off from the party taking place in the backyard of your long term boyfriend—who was now your ex because fuck him, and fuck this washed up town.

You knew agreeing to come back for the summer would be absolutely detrimental to your psyche. Missing out on what would have been the summer of your life alongside college friends, a new city, on boats, planes; anywhere better than Hawkins!

But being the amazing, doting girlfriend you were, you had been easily convinced by the promise of gifts, booze, and a hell of a summer.

Two weeks in and you were miserable, had ruined Louis Vuitton’s, barely tipsy off of cheap beer, and now newly single.

“Fuck this place!” You scream to yourself, louder than you should have in a not–disturbing–the–peace way, a dog barking in the distance. You needed to catch the first bus out of this dump of a town as soon as possible.

“I completely agree,” comes a voice to the side of you. If the pumping of anger and spite wasn’t making your heart boom in your ear drums right now, or the distraction of materialistic items didn’t have you fuming: you were sure you might have seen them, whoever they are. Or at least smelled them. The heavy scent of weed lingers in the air and you can only assume it’s the weed guy your ex-boyfriend had been talking about.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone else tonight, let alone some stoned out stranger whose opinion you didn’t ask for, or could fake care about.

Turning in their direction you plan on telling them as much, plan on giving them your best bitchy scowl. But when your eyes adjust, actually see who it is; take in the long hair, the mix of jean and leather, the rings that gleam in the moonlight. Your expression changes from annoyance to amusement, your rude rebuttal long forgotten.

“Munson?”

“In the flesh,” his smile is still as boyish as you remember. At least from what you can remember. You graduated two years ago, he didn’t. Either year, so you've heard.

The two of you hadn’t been friends, barely acquaintances. You had a handful of classes with him, even got partnered up with him for one biology project that neither of you truly put the effort into. But you flashed your pretty smile and batted your eyes and got the both of you passing grades—thank god for creepy male teachers.

You and Munson, Eddie, were so far off of the spectrum of being in each other’s realms. The class difference not being the only thing setting you two on two different sides of the universe, let alone Hawkins and your group of friends. The many taunts from your boyfriend and his friends coming back to your mind, and the weird snarkiness Eddie would always fight back with. Unbothered by the stupidity of high school taunts.

“Graduate yet?” You give him a playful smile, lean up against the car behind you to attempt and scrape off the mud on your shoe with your thumb nail.

“No.” He crosses his hands over his chest, “but still keeping up with expectations.” You’re barely listening to him, frowning down at the dirt now caked under your perfectly polished nails, fuck.

You huff out a breath, pull your head back to look up at the night sky. Try to do those breathing exercises you see your mother do when a bird shits on her BMW. “You here for the party?” You both know you’re joking. Know that most, if not all, the rich kids here had once—or still do—rag on him.

“My services got the invite.” He clarifies, “not me, personally, for obvious reasons.” He mumbles that last part and it makes you chuckle under your breath.

“Still the weed guy, huh?” Pulling your head upright again, you look over at him. His response being holding his hands in the air in an ‘obviously’ type motion. Nothing has changed with him, and maybe that’s just what happens when you stay in this dead end town. But something also tells you that Eddie isn’t the type to just change. What you see is what you get, unapologetically.

Must be nice to be that carefree. You could use some carefree in your life; that booming sound of your heart in your ear still pumping with materialistic and asshole boyfriend frustration.

A smile spreads across your lips as an idea pops into your head. As you make the decision to get that carefree feeling in the most synthetic way possible, while also sticking it to the aforementioned asshole in the backyard.

“How much were they going to pay you?”

“For the-”

“Yes, the weed, Munson. How much.” You roll your eyes, that old high school queen bee tone coming back. Making even your own self wince, but who knows when—or if—the smell of weed had already wafted off of Eddie and traveled to the backyard and the two of you were soon to be joined by the rest of the party.

Fuck them.

“Thirty.”

Reaching into your bra, the low cut material of your dress having the perfect swoop to showcase just enough to keep the mystery, but add to the intrigue—helping to house your money snuggly in the cup of your bra; you pull out the folded cash your father had handed to you on your way out of the door.

“I have fifty here.” You hold it out between your forefinger and middle, “it’s yours but we have to leave right now.”

He looks a little surprised, his eyes flash from your chest to the money in your hand.

“You have a car don’t you?” You look around the dead street, try to remember what hunk of junk you may have seen him driving around when you were in school.

“Is the money for the ride or the weed?”

“Both.”

Eddie hums, “seems a bit low.” He crosses his arms, scratches his cheek. Starting up a slow pace as he speaks, “I mean I am risking getting caught with a distinguished lady such as yourself. From what I hear you’re still with your Princeton lover. Don’t know if I need him thinking I’ve stolen you away.”

You think he’s half serious for a second. The look of quarry on his face, but then you see his smile. See that boyish amusement again, it makes the corners of your lips tick up in amusement; contagious. Something you remember from bombing biology together. As much as you wanted to dislike him, ignore him, or push the assignment completely onto him, he had distracted you with weird facts about his band you were not interested in—and the other random nonsense that would slip out always made you roll your eyes and hide the contagiousness of his smile that spread across your face.

But you find yourself holding onto the knowledge that he knew about you and your ex. Don’t know why it’s the only retaining thing your mind seems to keep flashing on, it didn’t matter to you who still talked about you in Hawkins. Especially when you were certain it was out of pure jealousy for you getting out and them not.

You can’t see Eddie contributing in gossip, though. Maybe that’s why you’re holding onto the knowledge that he knows, remembers. Still hates the asshole. Much like you do.

“We broke up.” You state, make clear with a wide smile that you’re more than happy about it. His lips tug up more, stops in his tracks and leans back on his heels a little as he stares at you. The two of you sharing some silent moment before you laugh, “are you going to be my kidnapper or what, Munson?”

He smirks, grabs the money still between your fingers. Nods his head back to the van at the end of the driveway—that only makes sense is his, because of course it is.

“America's Most Wanted here I come!” He hollers a little too loudly, making you laugh.

“Sorry about the mess.” Eddie maneuvers around you, picks up some of the random garbage and clothes strewn at your feet and throws them in the front.

You’re sat on the small couch he has in the back of his van. The velvet from the cushions softer than you expect it to be on the back of your bare legs. Expecting it to feel grimy at the very least, and maybe that’s not fair of you to expect—or think.

You’re surprised at how unfazed you feel about the random things contributing to the mess back here. Finding yourself actually smiling at the makeshift lights he has hung up, how they cast a red glow and illuminate the posters he has tapped with that thick grey tape you know is going to rip off the paint if he was to ever remove it.

The atmosphere oddly calming, compared to what you are used to.

He pulls out a tape from the glove compartment and slips it into the stereo, a heavy metal track playing low through the speakers, the bass deep enough to rock the van.

You’re parked behind his trailer.

When he had pulled up to it and pulled around the back you were once again reminded just how different your lives really were. Had found yourself scrunching up your nose at the drab looking mobile home. Regretting it the minute Eddie caught you and gave a pressed lipped grin, “can’t build mansions this far out. Grounds too mushy.” He joked, but it only made you feel worse.

Why, you have no idea. It wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon and he was born without one. Neither was a bad thing. He seemed more than happy with his life—knowing what you did about him, that carefree way about him—than you did with your own, it would seem.

The cushions bounce from the way he plops down beside you. Pulling a metal lunchbox out of nowhere and placing it in his lap, “who knew the Princess of Hawkins, knew how to be bad.”

You make a face, “people don’t really call me that do they?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh how clueless the other half live.”

“I can still take back the money, you know.”

“Ooh, not twenty of it, at least.” He clicks his tongue, opens the metal box. The waft of weed stronger, making your nose burn. “Gotta keep that half for risking my life, it’s only fair.”

“You are the chattiest drug dealer I’ve ever met.”

“You meet a lot of them, do ya?” You can see countless baggies of whatever he’s pushing to the side, a lighter, more random junk, and then he’s pulling out a small bag of weed. “You really are bad, Princess,” he smiles.

You have to look away from him, have to hide the cheesy smile that moves across your own face—because it’s annoyingly warm in here, and you are here to escape and get high not become best buds with him. “Just roll it, Munson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This wasn’t your first time smoking. You had dabbled in weed at parties since your sophomore year. Had taken part with it at the handful of college parties you had been to. You were used to the light feeling, the cravings, the giggles. Or so you thought.

Maybe you just hadn’t been smoking the right stuff. Maybe it had been the liquor you had always paired with it, the buzz you thought you felt from what you smoked actually from the malt and not the shit weed.

Because you’ve never felt this good before. Not from weed. Liquor. Even around your friends.

You felt so good right now.

Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, can’t remember when you had dropped yourself onto the floor of Eddie’s van. Your heels kicked off and feet propped up on the cushions of the sofa—right next to Munson.

He’s not as spread out as you though, maybe a little more lax. His back slouched lower on the sofa, legs spread further apart. Jacket gone, black sleeves rolled up.

Has he always had that tattoo? Just how many rings does one guy need? Your heavy lids ache as you hyperfocus in on the bracelet on his wrist, the tattoo on his arm. Each one of his rings that don’t even budge as his fingers flex, as he uses the small pocket knife he had pulled out from his back pocket; grabbing your discarded heels to scrape the mud from them.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you giggle. “My dad will just buy me another pair.”

A smile spreads, “but you were so upset about them. Even I winced when I saw the mud pile you stepped in, nightmarish.”

He laughs along with you as you completely lose it, “how shitty is it that that is a nightmare to me? Ruined Louis Vuitton‘s.”

Eddie shakes his head, holds up the shoes. Now cleaner than before, way too clean for him to have just used the pocket knife. The bottle of water between his legs spotted upon further inspection, where did that come from?

“We all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined. Shoes, guitars, people.” He shrugs, “not shitty at all. But this clean job might be.” He chews on his lower lip.

You maneuver yourself so you’re not flashing him from the bottom of your dress, as you move your legs from the couch to sit up. Grabbing the red pumps from him to do your best look over, ignoring the burn your eyes give when you widen them.

“Munson, I think you’re in the wrong career.” You tease, smiling up at him. You’re sat in front of his open legs, have the perfect view of that boyish grin.

“Shoe shiner?” He acts bashful, swings his hand around batting the air. “I’m not that good.”

“Think once you graduate you gotta start your own business, ‘Eddie’s Spit n Shine.’” You joke, the both of you doubling over in laughter. Munson holding onto his stomach as he slaps a hand over his knee.

Once your giggles have died down and you can hold yourself up straight, you watch him. Watch the way his cheeks are redder, watch the way he moves some hair out of his face. His previous words of “but you were so upset about them” and “we all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined”. If this had been anyone else, one of your friends, your boyfriend, they would of been just as grumbly about the heels as you. Would have told you to trash them and offer to take you to the strip mall the next day to help you spend more of your fathers money; no big deal.

They wouldn’t have offered to fix them. To do something as simple as what Eddie had done.

And yeah, they were just shoes, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. But something fuzzy was settling in your chest, something in your stomach fluttering like it very much was a big deal.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask without thinking. Set your shoes down beside the couch, lay yourself back on the cool floor of the van.

“What?” He chuckles lowly with a hint of confusion. Just as surprised as you are at the question.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Munson.” You chew the corner of your cheek, look up at him. “Not like we were friends, ever, in school. And I remember plenty of times where my friends weren’t the nicest.”

“The rich kids not being nice to anyone who doesn’t drive a Mercedes? Shocking.” He jokes, makes you laugh.

“I’m serious.” You tap his knee that’s peeking out of one of the rips in his jeans with the tip of your finger. “Why are you being so nice?”

His face grows serious, but there’s still a hint of a soft smile there as he leans over to dig in the metal lunchbox again. Pulls out the spliff he rolled earlier alongside the one the two of you already smoked. You watch as his fingers run along it, “your friends may have not been the nicest, especially that lover boy of yours.” He gives you a playful roll of the eyes at the mention, that ache in your cheeks continuing. “But, you were always nice to me.”

“I never stopped them though. From being cruel.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, grabs the lighter resting beside your feet. “You made up for it by helping me not fail biology, for once.”

Your face contorts as you laugh, “put my tits on the line for that grade.”

Eddie chokes out a howl, stops what he’s doing to double over again. “Never been more happy for the power of tits.”

Your throat hurts from how hard you’re laughing. Holding your hand up in front of him in a high-five invite, “to tits!”

“To tits!” He slaps his palm against yours as he holds up the blunt in the other one in a show of salute.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this hard. Or felt this good. This happy. This playful. This whatever-the-hell-that fluttering feeling was in your stomach. You don’t know where Munson got his stash but damn was it good.

And damn was he cute.

Wait—what?

You quickly avert your eyes from him. Look up at the roof of the van, try to focus on the posters and scattered glow in the dark stars up there. You did not find Eddie Munson cute. You were just severely high right now, and still reeling off of your incredibly fresh break up. That’s all.

You hear the flick of the lighter beside you, hear him take a long puff. Fill his lungs, hold and blow it out, before you see him hold it out for you. Taking it silently, not looking at him—you probably shouldn’t have anymore, not with how you are thinking right now. But you didn’t feel like going back to your parents house. Calling it a night right now didn’t feel right, and it’s not like Eddie was rushing you out of the van.

So you press the blunt to your lips and decide to stop thinking. Just smoke. Listen to the beat of the metal still coming from the speakers.

“Lover boy must have done something tremendously fucked, huh?” He gives you a somber smile when you turn and pass the smoke to him.

“Munson, are you trying to gossip right now? Like we are two catty friends?”

He chuckles, inhales. “Us friends?” He makes a face, smoke rolling out of his mouth. “That’s obscene.”

“Nightmarish.”

“Grotesque.” He puts a hand to his heart, “what would the moms at the country club say?”

You laugh. “I don’t think either of my parents own a gun, so you're safe there. And my mother barely notices me,” you confess. Regret it when you look over at him and see the sympathy on his expression. “Please don’t.” You groan, take your turn to smoke, holding it between your thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t?”

“Give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you feel bad for me.” The laugh you let out this time is anything but humorous. There’s no joy. Just a salted down wound that you don’t let anyone see—so you don’t know why you’re talking about it right now—that burns the back of your throat. “I have everything.” You mumble, “perfect life. Perfect future ahead of me, money, the car, the friends, the boyfriend. No one should feel bad for me.”

You’re staring up at the roof again as you hold out your hand to give the blunt back without looking at him. Without acknowledging your own words with anything more than woeful self pitying. Eddie wasn’t interested in hearing about a rich girls problems and you had no interest sharing them. Anymore.

A silence settles between the two of you, it’s awkward and filled with the silently passing of the smoke between you; puffs of air, breaths in. Your heart is beating in your ears again. Except this time it’s something close to embarrassment and not anger.

“It wasn’t pity.” He breaks the silence when your fingers brush against each other when it’s his turn to hit. Your eyes finally finding their way back over to him, “how could someone not notice you?” There’s a twitch in his lips.

And fuck are your eyes burning from how high you are right now or because that was teeth rottingly sweet, and your chest is feeling fuzzy again—and Eddie Munson has some pretty eyes. Fuck.

“With the hair alone,” he waves his hand around emphasizing the top of your head. “Kind of hard to miss ya.” That boyish smile coming back when you start to laugh and lean up to swat him.

“I want my money back, Munson!”

“You’ve already smoked the weed!”

“Pain and suffering!”

“Mine or yours?” He jokes and he’s putting out the rest of the blunt to hold his hands out in surrender, as you lean up on your knees to playfully swat at the side of his arm.

“And here I thought we were actually having a moment.” You scowl at him, “you can take the high school out of the boy but not the—wait—you can’t even do that.”

His jaw drops, looking fake wounded if the big grin on his face is any indication of its falsehood. “The Princess of Hawkins has some bite.”

“I’m not the Princess of Hawkins!” You roll your eyes, “I’m just me–”

“Perfect,” Eddie finishes, adds. His lips come together, he swallows. “Perfect–you.”

You make a face at him. Another childish playful insult on the tip of your tongue but swallowed down, your throat feeling drier than ever as he stares down at you with a type of fondness that has your mind thinking—and feeling—way too many things right now.

And it feels like the moment slows, time stops. You take in everything, really take it in. You on your knees in front of his open legs, your palms on the cut out parts of his jeans that showcase his knees. The fuzziness in your chest turning into something else, something racing and filled with heat. Something that should surely not be there—all from what? Meaningless flirting? Eddie jesting with you?

Weed was definitely not a good idea. You should of just went home. Should ask him to take you home right now before your haze filled mind has you thinking of doing something else you definitely shouldn’t do.

Like move forward. Your knees dragging across the floor until the tops of them are pressed to the bottom of the couch. Until there’s no space left between you and Eddie’s thighs flush against the sides of your arms, his groin inches from your face. Your palms now higher up on his thigh.

You can feel how tense he is right now. Watched his expression go from softness to rigid with nerves. And maybe you are the only one who’s been feeling something tonight. Maybe he can handle his weed better than you. Or is simply not interested in you whatsoever. All his mindless flirting just that: mindless.

But you can’t help but want to test the waters. To see if any of those things are actually true.

Leaning up, your palms digging into the meat of his thigh as you do, your eyes moving from his to his lips and back up. A hint he seems to get when he meets you halfway and your lips are being pressed together in a gentle kiss.

It’s slow at first, curious, new to the both of you. Sloppy, and you can feel Eddie’s hand twitch at his side until he loses whatever fight in his head that has him holding back, and then it’s at your cheek and his thumb is digging into your chin the deeper the kiss gets. The more the two of you learn each other’s mouths. Which way to turn your head, that slow timid way his tongue pokes at your lips and then finds its way into your mouth; the quietest of noises coming from his throat when his tongue rubs against yours.

A noise that makes your stomach flutter. Makes an ache start between your legs.

Have you ever been kissed like this? Have you ever felt like the other person was learning you from the inside out? Memorizing how your lips moved, felt, tasted. The way your own deep rooted noise slips out and vibrates against his lips when his other hand comes to the other side of your head and pulls you so close to him as he leans further down into you. The top of your cleavage rubbing against the material of his shirt, tickled by his hair.

When the two of you finally pull apart, your eyes feel heavier than ever. Feel like all your energy went into that kiss and you feel buzzed. Like you’re on cloud nine. Like you’ve never felt better, as the two of you pant. Try to catch your breaths.

Feeling Eddie’s thumb nail running along your bottom lip you look up to his eyes, see they’re on your lips. His brows pulled together.

“Munson.” You don’t mean for it to sound like a whine. It’s not. You’re not whining right now, you’re just…feeling things and really high and maybe you can’t remember anyone you’ve been with ever touching you like this. And he’s barely touching you.

You may not have thought it to be a whine, but Eddie does. The look in his eyes as they finally meet yours has you floored. Has you seeing a want in a pair of eyes you don’t think you’ve seen before—know you haven’t; needy, nervous because of that need.

And when your palm moves of its own accord higher up and over until you feel a bulge in his tight jeans, the intake of breath he does. The slight droop of his eyes. All the decision you need to act on whatever these feelings are.

There’s disappointment in his eyes when you pull away from him, just enough to have his hands drop from your face and yours finding the top of his pants to open them up and fumble with the zipper.

“Whoa,” a nervous chuckle, then his hands wrapping around your wrists to stop you. “Whoa,” he says again. His breath still heavy. “What–should we–you,” he stammers.

It’s a bit cute, but it also has your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Shit. Have you completely misread this? Maybe he just wanted to kiss. You were fine with just kissing, if it was going to be like that everytime. But there’s an ache, a want, to hear that noise again. The one he had made in the back of his throat. To see the impressive bulge that your fingertips had touched.

“Do you,” you pull your hands back, take them from his hold and chew on your lip, “not want to do this? More..” you trail off. You can’t imagine what you were coming off as right now. Have you ever been rejected? Tonight was clearly the night of firsts for you.

“I,” Munson shakes his head, and your stomach sinks. Face falls. But then he’s shaking his head more aggressively, “no, that’s not,” he sighs. Takes a breath to ground himself, his hands coming to hold the tops of your shoulders. His expression serious, “Yes. I want to do this. I just…I’ve–never thought this would be happening and that I would be admitting to it in a situation, let alone this one–“

And then it clicks.

“Munson.” A slow smile snakes its way across your lips, “are you a virgin?”

His leg bounces, teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

“Just to be clear I mean sex, you’ve never had sex?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve done..other stuff, right?”

Silence for a beat and then he’s shaking his head. You try and fail to hide the surprise on your face, “I should take this as a compliment. Your utter shock.” You can see the blush that is growing up his neck and over his already red cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Your smile falters for a second, “I just thought with that kiss, you had done something before.” You can’t help but look down at his parted lips, yours still tingling from them. “It was..”

“Perfect.”

That word again. Hits you the same way it had before. Has the both of you staring at each other’s mouths until you’re kissing again. This time faster, harder, the passion seeping from the want and morphing into something that now has you completely on fire. Engulfed by Eddie. Your fingers are in his hair. His hands cradling your face like it’s so fucking fragile.

“Can I taste you?” You’re panting against his mouth, running your hands down his chest back to the top of his pants that are still undone. Open enough that you can push your hand in them and move your fingertips against the top of his shaft. That same noise he did earlier coming out as a puff against your parted mouth.

He nods, “yes.” It sounds so soft and filled with need. He presses one more kiss to your lips before he’s slowly pushing himself back, giving you room and helping you maneuver his pants and boxers down his thighs. Just enough to spring his cock free.

It’s bigger than you imagined it would be—never imagined it to be. But, fuck. How has he not done anything when he kisses like that? When he’s so funny, cute, and nice, and his cock is so thick.

Your jaw aches just staring at it. Tongue coming out to wet your lips as you wrap a hand around the base of him, have to hold back the sound you want to make from the sound he makes; a shallow breath let out, just below a whimper. His hips already jerking involuntarily up, precum at his tip.

“Are you sure? You’re not like…just super high–“

“I am super high, Munson.” You smile sweetly and it makes him do the same. A low laugh covered up by you leaning in to press your lips to his, “and yes, I’m sure. Incredibly.” You hope your own look of want for him comes across clearly, not only in your words but with the way your hand starts to move on his shaft, and the way you run your tongue along his bottom lip.

A breathy, “fuck, oh-kay” slipping out from him.

It’s all the consent you need, the push to have you leaning down to run the flat of your tongue across his leaking tip. The hiss of pleasure he lets out only a prelude to the whimpers and gasps he makes when you let your tongue explore along his length, pumping and sucking with your mouth along a thick vein that runs up the side of his cock. Your thumb rubbing a slow circle behind the head of it, making his hips buck and legs tense around you.

And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you’re gagging around him and Eddie is cursing and digging his nails into the cushion of the couch.

You completely expect to feel his hand on your head, to be pushing or pulling your hair to guide you. Even fucking up into your mouth. When you’ve done this for other guys they were nothing less than over aggressive about it. So when it doesn’t happen part of you thinks he’s not enjoying it; a thought that’s quickly debunked by the grunts and shaky breaths coming from above you.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the cushion in. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, “oh, ohmygod” tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate right now. So flushed and pretty.

You pull your mouth from him, let your lips press the tiniest of kisses to the tip that makes his hips gyrate, chasing your mouth. “You can touch me, Munson.”

“Where?” He asks shakily.

“Wherever you want.” You reach for his hand and press it to your cheek, “here, so you can feel yourself inside of me.” He whimpers, you smile. “Or here,” you run his hand down your neck, raise your brows to note that area being an option before you descend further. Until you reach the top of your cleavage, “to tits.” You say playfully and it has a deep chuckle scrunching his eyes. “Okay?”

He hums, nods. “Okay.”

And then your mouth is on him again, his tantalizing noises back and making your thighs press closer together. Making you encourage the small thrusts of his hips up into your mouth. Drool slipping down your chin when your own whimper is dredged up from the back of your throat when you feel the pad of his thumb run along your hard nipple; before his palm squeezes and massages your boob in a way that makes you move your body further into his.

The pleasure you’re giving him being handed back to you with the same energy of want and need, and it has you shellshocked. Has your body working overtime with heat, arousal, and wanting to please him. Wanting to hear more of those groans. To feel the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat and his “holy shit, that feels so good” when your throat spasms around him.

If you knew sucking Eddie Munson’s dick was this fun you would of done it years ago.

Why hadn’t you seen him before this night? Why did it take weed and giggles and flirting that turned you on more than you want to admit—to really see him. And why did the thought of not being able to look away from him again, to go back to not seeing him, something that was inevitable: make fear take root in your chest?

His hand has moved to hover over your head, his rings adding more pressure to the back of your skull than his actual fingers do. “You’re so perfect,” he whimpers. Pushes his hips up into your mouth, pulling your lips further down his throbbing shaft. “Perfect.” He repeats, your stomach flutters and flops and you preen around him. His breaths get deeper, hips moving more frequently, fingers flexing in your hair. He’s close, so so close.

And if you thought the noises he was making before were beautiful, the whine he lets out when he says, “I’m going to come, can I–oh fuck–can I do it in your mouth?” Makes your eyes roll back, your head nodding in approval and then you can feel him leaning back; a loud moan coming from his mouth, his fingers gripping the hair on top of your head as he comes against your tongue. The searing heat from it like a salve to the ache in your throat.

You swallow him down. Let your tongue lap at the droplets left on his tip as you suck him into your mouth one last time before he’s letting out a hiss of over sensitivity.

He tastes just as lovely as he looks right now. Completely flushed, eyes red and heavy. One corner of his mouth ticked up in a soft smile.

“Did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“Your hair,” his fingers rub at the back of your skull gently. “I’m sorry if I pulled too hard,” the softness of his words has your chest feeling heavy. Those feelings back, your arousal under shadowed.

“No,” you shake your head. Pull his hand from the back of your head, don’t know why, but you let your lips skate across his rings as you kiss his fingers. “It was perfect.”

His mouth pulls into that boyish grin, for the millionth time tonight. “It was.”

Maybe your summer won’t be so boring after all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things one shot #joseph quinn #heavy metal love !

[angelbaby-fics]

Hi!!! Could I please have one where the cg is bucky and they get into a minor car accident because of ice or something. and little!reader is just so shaken up that bucky just has to calm them down.

Thank you!!!!

Icy Road

Word Count: 1k

Warning: A small car accident! Nobody gets hurt but I know it can still be scary 💕

A/N: Thank you for requesting this!! Car accidents are actually one of my biggest fears, and I was actually involved in a little bump a couple weeks ago 😰 everyone was okay & unharmed but I was quite shaken up after the fact & writing this was actually very therapeutic for me 💕

You were full, you were happy, but you were exhausted. Tony’s annual Christmas party was everything he’d promised it would be and more, and you’d been kept up long past your bedtime for the special occasion. Bucky was never one for parties, but your excitement made him a willing participant in the holiday festivities. It only took a batting of your pretty little eyelashes to make him emerge from his designated brooding spot in the corner to color with you, and soon coloring became decorating ornaments, and by the end of the night he was laughing with glitter in his hair. It was the first time since he’d joined the Avengers that he’d ever stayed until the end of a party, and he could get used to it. 

As he drove home through the dark winter night, Bucky couldn’t help but smile at himself. What a perfect night it had been. Your head lolled to the side and rested against your shoulder, and the movement caught Bucky’s eye in the rearview mirror. You were so peaceful in your slumber, the slightest hint of a smile peeking from behind your paci. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even though he knew he should. Especially on an icy night like this. 

When he finally tore his eyes away from you, the car was drifting to the middle of the road. There were no other cars, not out here, but Bucky still corrected the car a little too hard, a little too quickly. The tires skidded on the slick ice and sent the car into a spin, picking up speed until eventually you landed in a snowbank beside the road. The collision wasn’t enough to put more than a dent in the car, but the sudden shift in motion startled you awake, and your cries began to pierce the silence of the snowy night. 

Bucky’s first and only reaction was to unbuckle his seatbelt and immediately run to join you in the back seat. He slid in beside you and scanned his eyes over your entire body, checking for injuries. 

“Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?” He panted, afraid to touch you in case you were injured. Once he confirmed you were fine, save for an accelerated heart rate, he unfastened your seatbelt and pulled you into his lap. It broke Bucky’s heart how desperately you clung to him, grasping at his sweater with frantic fingers. He massaged your back in soothing circles, shushing rhythmically and softly in your ear, but to no avail. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry. It’s okay now, I promise.” Bucky chanted to you over and over. “I’m so, so sorry my baby.”

He sat there like that with you for as long as you cried; he would have stayed there until the sun came up if he needed to. Even after you’d stopped crying, he held you there a little longer. He couldn’t bring himself to let go. Even though neither of you were injured and the car was an easy fix, Bucky couldn’t help the guilt gnawing at him. He’d gotten distracted, he’d been reckless, but worst of all, he’d scared you. If he’d been alone in the car he wouldn’t care, but seeing your fear as a result of his thoughtless actions made his heart ache. It made him question if he even deserved to be a caregiver after this. 

“It's okay, daddy.” You said, so softly he almost didn’t hear it. 

“What’s that doll?” Bucky looked down at you. 

“It’s okay,” you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him, dried tears streaked across your cheeks. “Was an accident, right?”

“It was, but I’m still sorry.” Bucky hugged you tightly to him. The snow had stopped falling by the time he’d pulled over, so there was no risk of being snowed into the spot. Bucky leaned over towards your backpack in the front seat as delicately as he could, not wanting to disturb you as he felt you falling back asleep. The pacifier you’d been using earlier had fallen to the floor of the car, so he found a new one in your backpack and gently maneuvered your head to give it to you. He then found one of your blankies he’d packed and covered you with it. He stayed there with you until he felt your breathing fully steady and slow down. He could tell when you fell asleep, the subtle little things only he could pick up like your muscles relaxing and your eyes flicking behind your eyelids as your dreams began to unfold. Bucky held you a little while longer to make sure your dreams stayed pleasant, hoping the events of the night wouldn’t manifest into a nightmare. Once he was confident you were dreaming of nothing but sugarplums, he kissed your forehead and placed you back into your car seat. 

It took every bone in Bucky’s body not to keep watch on you sleeping in the backseat. You were only a few minutes from home, he knew he could get you home safely. As soon as he pulled the car into the garage and turned it off, he couldn’t get out and to your door quickly enough. He managed to keep you asleep as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you into the house and disabling the alarm system without so much as a stir. 

Bucky decided that after the events of the night, he couldn’t stand to be even a room away from you. Instead of setting you down in your crib as he got himself ready for bed, he placed you right down on his own bed. It was like you could sense the safety of your new setting, you stretched out your limbs before curling up into the comfort of your daddy’s pillows. 

Bucky finally let out the breath he’d been holding since the accident. He was used to being hard on himself, but taking care of you was slowly teaching him grace. The sight of you safely slumbering in his bed despite what you’d been through was proof enough to him that he could change for the better.

#little!reader #bucky x little!reader #agere fic #daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x little!reader #cg!bucky #cg!bucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader #chloe's fic

[torscrawls]

Royal Hot Potato

Summary:

The Justice League tries to summon the Ruler of the Infinite Realms to help them with a ghost problem. They expected Pariah Dark and were ready to do whatever they could to get him to agree to their terms. What they didn’t expect were two teenagers who juggled the title of Ruler of the Infinite Realms like a hot potato while snarking all the while.

Maybe Pariah dark would have been the better alternative.

Words: 2 958

Can be read on AO3!

-

The Justice League was going to fight fire with fire.

Their own efforts in stopping the enormous ghost masquerading as a storm hadn’t been very successful and after countless failed attempts at fighting it they had arrived at the conclusion that they needed to bring in an expert. Someone with a similar skill set. Someone who could at least touch the enemy that had arrived out of nowhere and were currently wrecking city after city and leaving devastation in its wake.

Or, more accurately; John and Zatanna had finally managed to get through to them that this wasn’t a problem they could simply punch their way through, like they usually did. He wasn’t bitter about it. Of course not.

Sadly the Justice League didn’t know of any ghost that was both powerful enough to stop the one currently going berserk on Earth and friendly. And even if he hated to admit it, neither did John. So they went with the next best thing; a ghost that they knew was powerful enough and that they could hope to manipulate. At least somewhat.

They were desperate, okay? And if it was one thing that John was sure of it was that Pariah Dark was very proud and didn't back down from a fight.

A fact they were banking on.

Hopefully they would be able to get their message across and convince him before he killed them all. Which was, admittedly, very unlikely.

John had finished drawing up the summoning circle on the floor in one of the meeting rooms of the Watchtower, the chalk and symbols looking ridiculously out of place in the very modern and otherwise clean room.

He sent the other two people in the room a quick look. Red Robin was studying the circle as if he was trying to memorize it—for all that John knew, he might actually be able to do it, the bats were all horribly smart like that—and Batman himself who was busying himself with the room’s only computer.

The grouch was no doubt keeping tabs on the ongoing fight slash evacuation going on down on earth and if Zatanna’s attempt to distract the ghost with her own weather-magic was still working. Considering the lack of demands to immediately go back down to Earth, John guessed that it was.

Which was good. John really didn’t want to have to do this by himself.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the ghost got tired of the distraction and went back to destroying, so this crazy idea better work.

After another beat of silence John shrugged and decided that there was no reason to delay their very probable, very imminent, death any further. So he crouched by the circle, put his hands on it, and said, “Let’s get this party started, then.”

It didn’t take long for Constantine to realize that something was wrong.

The summoning circle was struggling like a bucking horse under his hands and John almost bit through his cigarette as he redoubled his efforts. Either he had gotten something very wrong with the circle—unlikely—or something was very wrong on the other end of the summoning—not impossible—or, Pariah Dark must be even stronger than they had thought. Which would be bad. Very bad.

But John didn’t have time to warn the others before a pool of poisonous green spread across the floor, swallowing up the circle and lapping at John’s shoes before he took a couple of stumbling steps backwards.

From the depths of the eerie liquid rose a tangle of flailing limbs and twisting flesh. Of white hair and black cloth and pale skin and piercing green.

Then came the sound; warbled voices screaming and hissing and shouting and growling. The pitch rising and falling and setting his teeth on edge as the unholy sound took root in his sternum. Reverberated in his bones. Pulsed behind his eyes.

…Was this the Ruler of the Infinite Realms? This twisted mess of limbs and sounds? No wonder the summoning came with so many warnings. John had never before been scared of a ghost, but this, this was truly a horrifying—

Maybe this had been a terrible mistake. They already had one overwhelmingly strong ghost to deal with, why had they thought they needed another?

“John Constantine,” the being said with overlapping voices drenched in static and John took another shaky step back as he felt himself pale. “I've come for your soul.”

This was bad. Real bad. He was also fairly certain that he had no memories of selling his soul to whatever this thing was. And  whatever it was, it wasn’t Pariah Dark, which meant that their plan would fail.

Then the thing on the ground broke into sudden, pealing, laughter and when it spoke again it was with a much more human, albeit still echoing, voice, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

…What?

Red Robin turned his pale face towards John and hesitantly asked, “A buddy of yours?”

“Fuck no.” At least he didn’t think so. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of all the different ways some of the creatures he knew could manifest.

John turned back to the ungodly abomination still on the floor of the meeting room. “Who are you? What are you? Why do you know my name?” 

Another laugh. “You’re famous!”

Then a distinctly separate voice from the first groaned and said, “And have generated a ridiculous amount of paperwork. Thanks for that.”

This was followed by the pile of twisting limbs separating, splitting in the middle and ending with two… Two kids.

That was when the pile of twisting limbs separated into two separate beings. Two kids. Both of them dressed similarly in black and white cloth, both of them with stark white hair and glowing green eyes. Both of them very much ghosts. The only real difference was that one looked to be a boy and one looked to be a girl.

The boy of the pair sprang to his feet and looked from Red Robin to Batman with sparkling eyes as he gushed, “Oooh! You guys are the bats!”

“And neither of you are Pariah Dark,” John deadpanned.

The girl didn’t so much jump to her feet as she levitated into something resembling a standing position as she wrinkled her nose. “No. That old man sucked. Don’t compare us to that maniac, thank you. He’s not in the picture anymore. I’m Dani!” She smiled and gestured to the boy, “And that’s Danny with a Y!”

John blinked. There was only one way that ghost titles changed hands, only one way that succession worked. “Not in the—Did you defeat him?”

That was… unthinkable. Terrifying. Pariah Dark was next to invincible, one of the strongest beings in existence. After all, that was why they had turned to him in the first place. The thought that he had been bested in any way was…

The boy—Danny apparently—shrugged. “Well, kinda? It was a group effort.”

“... Fuck me,” John breathed out as the dots connected, “You're the new Ruler.”

Danny looked uncomfortable. “No. Or, yes. It's complicated.”

John turned his gaze to Dani. “So then you’re the ruler?”

One of them had to be. The summoning had been very specific on that detail, even if he would have to study it later to see how it had managed to summon two beings instead of one.

She looked taken aback but before she could respond, Danny suddenly punched her in the arm. Instead of looking angry at the seemingly unprovoked attack, she grinned. “No, I’m not.”

John frowned. Maybe he had been wrong in his assumptions, but then why would the summoning circle have brought these two here? “So none of you are the king?”

Dani smiled, and it was too broad. Too teasing. “No, one of us is.” 

John turned back to Danny again with narrowed eyes. “So then you are the king?” 

“Yes,” he agreed with a nod, but the glint in the boy’s eyes made John suspicious.

Enough so that he turned back to Dani and asked, “Alright. Then you're not.”

She leaned over and smacked Danny over the head and smiled as the boy cursed before innocently looking at John and saying, “No, I am.” 

John threw his hands in the air. “Whatever, I give up.” 

They both nodded in eerie synchronization. “That's probably for the best.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Red Robin asked in clear confusion, “You’re not gonna kill us?”

“Why would we want that?” Dani asked.

Danny snorted and waved him off as he added, “Yeah, we have enough idiots to look after as it is.”

Red Robin blinked. “Thanks?”

Batman, who had somehow made his way over from the computer without making a sound, cut in with a gruff, “We don’t have time for this. We need your help to fight a world-ending threat and—”

Danny cut him off with a groan as he looked to the ceiling. “Seriously?? This again?”

Dani crossed her arms with an equally exasperated expression on her face. “Didn't we get a case like this just last week?? We should make sure we get paid overtime! This is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah!” Danny agreed, both of them completely unaware of the tightening of Batman’s jaw at getting interrupted. John and red Robin both took a small step away from their seething colleague as Danny obliviously continued,  “You would think that people would learn, but noooo, let's mess with the highly dangerous—” 

John cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t making a big mistake in chastising the unknown—possibly royal—beings in front of him. But no one had ever accused him of being too respectful and they were in a hurry. “For fucks sake, back to topic!”

Dani turned to Constantine with an accusing, “I thought you would be more fun, man! The reports made it sound like you were a disaster.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint?” Even if he really was a disaster, these two didn’t need to know that.

He received a deep sigh. “It’s fine.”

Thankfully, Batman stepped in at this point, saving John from having to come up with something to say to that. “So, can either of you help?” 

The two ghosts shared a silent look before Danny suddenly screamed, “Not it!” at the same time as Dani exclaimed, “Dibs, not it!”

Danny laughed. “I said it first!” 

“Did not!”

“You mean you won?” Danny asked as he raised a challenging eyebrow.

“That’s unfair!” Dani complained.

What the fuck were they talking about now??

Red Robin turned to Constantine. “Is this really our best shot? This feels like a mistake.” 

Danny snickered. “A grave mistake?”

“That was a good pun,” Dani nodded seriously before a mischievous grin spread across her face. “You win.”

“Fuck!”

John had to agree. This had been a mistake. This was so much worse than anything Pariah Dark could have done.

Batman seemed to be nearing the end of his rope as he growled out, “We don’t have time for this.”

“Right. Sorry,” Danny said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “The ghost you’re having trouble with is Vortex, right? It feels like Vortex.” He smacked his lips. “You know, like licking the back of a vacuum cleaner?”

Dani nodded her agreement to that insane statement.

Batman frowned as he asked, “Vortex?” John had to commend him for his ability to stay on topic.

“Big cyclone stormy guy?” Danny said. “Looks like the result if the Hulk fucked a tornado?”

Red Robin nodded as if that made sense. “That’s him, alright.”

Dani punched a fist in her palm as a predatory smile crept over her face. “It’s been a while since I went a round with old Vorty.”

“Don’t call him that,” Danny complained with a grimace.

“Whatever. I think it’s my turn in the washing machine. Besides, I promised to kick his ass next time we met.”

Danny crossed his arms and tilted his head back in an exaggerated show of arrogance. “Well, last I recall I was the ruler of the Infinite Realms, peasant. Grovel before me!”

“My liege,” Dani said as she bent in half in an exaggerated bow and then promptly punched Danny in the arm before giving a cackling laugh. “Unlimited power! Aaah, I love the taste of revolution in the morning!”

Danny immediately bent in his own bow. “My liege.” Then promptly punched her in the stomach.

Dani bowed, “My liege.” Then punched him.

“My liege.” Bow then punch.

Red Robin watched the whole thing as if it was a tennis match and Batman looked more murderous by the second. John just groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Please stop.”

They both broke down laughing, leaning on each other for support.

Red Robin crossed his arms with an incredulous look on his face. “Are you seriously playing hot potato with the throne?”

Dani shrugged as she straightened back up, wiping the corner of her eye. “Take it up with the Ruler if you don't like it.”

Red Robin exasperatedly said, “You are the-“

“Not anymore, sucker!” She interrupted him with another laugh.

John was decidedly not drunk enough for this, so he put on his most serious expression and said, “It can’t possibly be that easy to take the throne of the whole Infinite Realms.”

It just couldn't. That would be… Worrying, to say the least. But these two had somehow managed to topple Pariah Dark so really, maybe it wasn’t that easy after all.

Danny gave a barking laugh. “You would think that, wouldn't you? We used to think the same thing! You are more than welcome to join us in our protest to the Observants.”

John flinched. He didn't want anything to do with them and he felt a grudging inkling of respect for the two tykes in front of him; anyone who stood up against the insufferable eyeballs were good in his books.

Dani snorted and cut in, “Yeah, and as if you don't shirk your duties every chance you get. We’ve heard the stories and seen the reports. And complaints. Ancients, the complaints…" she trailed off with a haunted look in her eyes. 

John took it all back. They didn’t deserve any respect. “At least I don't put a whole realm in danger by doing so.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You interested in taking over?”

“Fuck no.”

Batman stepped in with a no-nonsense, “So you're both the ruler?” 

They exchanged a quick glance, grinned, and spoke in tandem while nodding, “Both. Both. Both is good.”

Red Robin burst into laughter before asking, “Like a shared custody situation?” He seemed to be much more at easy now that the three of them hadn’t been horribly murdered.

Danny finger gunned him. “Exactly.”

No wonder the summoning circle had had a hard time with bringing the Ruler here if they essentially shared the title. John guessed that the mess of tangled limbs that had first arrived in the Watchtower was the circle essentially giving up and just spitting out both of them. He guessed that also explained the cursing and screams in the beginning. Luckily for all of them, ghosts were very malleable.

Dani tapped her chin in thought. “I think it’s more like a disease. Or!” she raised a finger as if she’d just had an epiphany, “Like a live bomb. I don’t wanna hold it when it inevitably blows up, you know?”

“Hey! So you give it to me?!” Danny asked with outrage in his voice that didn’t even manage to convince John, much less Dani who simply stuck her tongue out at him.

“Alright, sure. Whatever,” John waved them off. God, he hated teenagers. They were worse than all the demons of hell combined. “Then you can both take care of this bullshit. You can each defeat half of him if that makes you feel better.”

Dani pretended to swoon. “Oh nooo, you've defeated us with your logic! Here take the—” 

“Don't. Even. Think about it,” John bit out.

Danny snickered as Dani pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Please, let’s get back on topic,” Batman said, and John didn’t think he imagined the exasperation in his voice, “Can you— both of you—defeat this… Vortex?”

“Hmmm,” Danny hummed before turning to Dani with a smile. “Tag team?”

“Sure! I’ve been wanting to show you my new sonic attack.”

Danny looked delighted. “Oh! When did you learn that?” he asked as he started flying towards one of the walls with Dani following behind.

“Just last week. I went to this supercool concert and when I tried to join in the whole arena—”

Red Robin called after them, “Do you know where he is? I could point it out on a map?”

Dani turned in the air to give him a deadpan look. “He’s a giant storm.”

“That’s fair.”

“Anyway, as I was saying. You wouldn’t believe the noise those big speakers can make if—”

And that was when they flew right through the wall leading out from the Watchtower and into space, towards Earth, leaving the three of them in sudden silence.

Until Red Robin broke it with an incredulous, “This was so not what I was expecting when you said we were summoning the Ruler of the Dead.”

John couldn't help but agree. He hadn't expected this either.

Batman gruffly asked, “Are we sure about this?”

John fished out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter. “Honestly? I wouldn't worry about Vortex. I don't think he’s going to be a problem anymore. You might want to prepare yourself for what comes after, though. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them.”

#dp x dc #dp #danny phantom #dp fic #danny phantom fic #dp fanfic #phic #danielle phantom #my writing

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

tags: NO SPOILERS!, a part in the HE ATE MY HEART series, antihero fwb! reader, takes place before atsv, little translations this time (fantastic, fuck), of course mdni.

author’s note: hello everyone! thank you for 155 followers?? never thought this would happen, much less me ever posting my work. so thank you for taking a chance on me! i hope you’ll enjoy where I’ll take this (when i figure it out lmao)

EDIT: so I’ve discovered that Miguel doesn’t have a spider sense, so let’s just have him go off of his enhanced senses instead, sorry for the error!

wc: 4.8k previous masterlist

You weren’t exactly knowing of Nueva York’s high elite, other than what you could use to your advantage. They were so high on their pedestals, that they think no one will climb to touch their things. And those that did, hid them within layers of secrets and security. That’s where you come in.

For the right price, anything can be known by anyone. Cooperate coverups, measly affairs, underground operations— you charge triple for anything connected to the government, god forbid. You could retain information that could crumble empires and not bat an eye.

You’ve been working with Miguel for a couple of months now. You weren’t used to working with someone else and well, neither was he. But so far, you had nothing for a cause to keep a knife behind your back.

Weeks went by without another word from the arachnid— at least on the work-related side of things. Behind closed doors was an entirely different story you both knew too well. You didn’t take notice, as he was usually tight-lipped on his plans. That was until you pulled out a hint of what he was doing at your previous job at Oscorp. It was only at your last hookup however that he mentioned a new job for you.

You adjusted the earring back to fit snugly on the jewel and more thoroughly, the mic underneath it. Your eyes scan over your attire when he speaks from behind. “I heard it connect.”

You turn around, seeing his broad backside covered by a formal jacket. He turns around, adjusting the dress shirt’s cuffs underneath. “So it should work fine.”

You hear him, understand the words he tells you, but god how could you ignore the sight in front of you? Your eyes go to what harnesses his shoulders, a cool grey metal sitting atop each one. You see how the fabric compliments the hue of his skin. He left the jacket unbuttoned, allowing your gaze to go down the buttons of his dress shirt. With further observation, you could see how tight they were in holding his body, the curves of his abdomen evident in the fit. He should wear black more often, you thought.

Miguel coughs, and your attention goes to his face, where he sends you a look. You raise your brow at him. “I heard you.”

He hums, adjusting the other cuff. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“Just seeing how your clothes fit you.”

He looks up to give you another look, looking back down to the empty hole for his cufflinks. “I don’t know why you have me wearing this…thing.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The pieces upon his shoulders went into an abstract shape on his upper back. It was in metallic silver, shining with an alchemy symbol edged into it. You step forward, high shoes making light thumps against his bedroom floor.

“Because you were invited to an elite party. They don’t exactly dress in something as simple as a prom date from eons ago.”

“This is still an operation, don’t you think blending in would be the right call?”

You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone, looking down at the small case of various cuff links. You study each of them as you speak. “Blending in would be a crime to them and only get you noticed more. If you stand out in a crowd who’s trying to do just as much, that’s when you’re in a sea of secrecy.”

Your fingers trail over the different shapes, textures, and images edged into the small accessories. His eyes follow, listening.

“Who are you going as?”

“Myself.”

“So you have to try, but not too hard. As just a scientist, the middle ground is what you aim for.” You hand picks out a silver pair, with triangles cut into its shape. You display them out in your palm to him with your head up to meet his gaze. “I picked out something subtle.“

“This is subtle-?”

You laugh. “Best believe this barely scratches the surface on what they consider formal fashion. With your loathing, it was the best I could do with such a lost cause.”

Miguel looks up from your palm, then down, then back— slowly grabbing the cuffs from you. He goes to put them on, but after watching him fiddle with them for a minute or two, you step closer and let your hands take over. Silence falls over the two of you, both looking down to watch your hands.

“Lost cause, huh?” He mutters in a low tone.

You glance at him, going back to pinning the cuffs. “I only ever see you naked or in high-tech spandex. You’re not exactly giving me a good impression of range.”

The cuff secures the fabrics in a final tug. Your fingertips brush over the veins of his wrist, turning it over when you finish. You look up to him, voice going just as low as his does. “…but this is a good start.”

A small smirk appears on his face and you return it with ease.

You get into the penthouse first, with Miguel arriving a couple of minutes later to not draw suspicion. Whoever was hosting the party obviously had the cash to go all out. There was a champagne tower in the corner of the vast foyer. Guests in another interacted with Alchemax’s latest in augmented reality, giving the company their oohs and ahhs. You could immediately tell that the foyer alone could cost a fortune. It held a high ceiling due to the various floors. Long glass panels gave the guests a fantastic view of Nueva York’s skyline— lit in a technological blue.

You pretend to adjust your earring in the reflection of an extravagant vase, hearing it click to life. “You inside?”

“Mhm.”

You didn’t have to see him to know that his jaw was locked shut. Miguel takes note of the guests who were in small clusters across the space. He recognized a few faces, holding the disdain from his expression for a few others. It bubbles higher when he sees Alchemax chairmen socializing about “How’s security looking?”

You take a glance around the room, huffing. “Three security men in each corner of the room…including at the hall with the stairs. What a tool.”

Miguel huffs, not still hiding his glare into the crowd.

Your lips press together in thought. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Surveillance, look for an entry point and-“

“No, what you do during surveillance.”

He frowns, resetting his jaw so that he can resist a groan. “I know what to-“

A man comes up to him, and you can hear his voice faintly through your connection. “My, that is an exquisite piece! Such detail in the marking- Do you mind telling me who the designer is?”

Miguel freezes slightly, dropping his hand from his ear. “I- it’s Vancasa-“

“-Vancada-“ You correct.

“Vancada.” Miguel clears his throat, placing his hands into his pockets. “Excuse me.”

The gentleman raises his brow before looking over his attire one last time, then giving him a cordial nod. Miguel nods back and watches him leave to speak to others. He hears you snicker in his earpiece. “Shut up.”

“I said not a word.”

The arachnid supposed he’d have to play house, much to his dismay.

He was greeted by some of his colleagues, some that he actually tolerated. They all told him the same thing: it would be a death wish to their careers not to take an invite. Miguel hated that such intelligent people were held in the grasp of such corrupt ones, including himself. Eventually, he finds himself at the silver-lit bar at one end of the room. His eyes scan the crowd, finding you. You held a flute of champagne in your hand, letting out a fluttering laugh at what the woman next to you said. He knew you, however. It didn’t come as a surprise to him that you knew how to play with the crowd. Miguel’s eyes eventually wandered, going down the attire that you picked out for yourself to the tiniest detail. The way fabric hugs your figure, a dark blue satin that gives a slight shine. Your features seemed to be highlighted in the interior’s soft lighting. He presses his lips together with a sip of his drink.

“O’Hara!”

He snapped back to reality when two men wave him over. He takes a glance at you before taking another sip of his drink and walking a few short steps.

“Bastava, Mr. Hayward.” He addresses them with a nod. “It’s an honor to be invited to such an event.”

Each of them put out their hands to shake, and he wanted to brittle both of their hands. A firm handshake would just have to do.

“It’s so good to see you again, O’Hara!”

Mr. Hayward motions between Bastava and Miguel. “Is this the one you spoke of? The lead scientist?”

Bastava nods, a smile on display. “Yes!”

He goes around the tall table they gathered at to wrap around Miguel’s broad shoulder. “Cooperate Raiders’ finest scientist in the flesh.” He knocks Miguel playfully. “And he knows how to clean up too!”

The two elites break out into a laugh, Miguel joining in with a forced one. You were right, he was an absolute lost cause. Because if he had it his way, that arm around him would be broken.

Bastava goes back to his side of the table, refilling his glass of vodka while Mr. Hayward sipped at his own whisky. “Good to see you back at the company, O’Hara. The succession rates could never be better.”

He gives them a hard smile. “It’s good to be back.”

Mr. Hayward motions his glass in a brief toast. “May you don’t run into any other mishaps this time around for your continued stay?”

Miguel gives a short toast back. His paranoia may have gotten him over his head a few times, but with the way he emphasized it— it was almost like he was referring to what happened. And with the look Mr. Hayward sends over the glass as he drinks, it almost like he wanted Miguel to know that he is.

“Excuse me.” The two men give him short nods and he parts from the table. The arachnid practically felt bile come up in his throat from his words, taking a gulp of his drink to calm himself. The strong tang sent a kick to his head, shutting his eyes tightly so he could adjust. An exhale slips past his lips while his eyelids softened. He taps quickly into his earpiece. “Checking in.”

You hear him in your ear, getting up from your seat. “See, if I didn’t have to powder myself up, we wouldn’t have this problem of ending such a lovely conversation.”

He can hear formal laughs through the microphone, faintly picking up a “Why? You have nothing to freshen up.”

Miguel did your eye rolling for you. You give the gentleman a smile and thanks. When you excuse yourself, your face falls as soon as you turn around. Miguel catches that, giving him a slight amusement. You see him through the wave of people locking eyes. He was off to the side by an extravagant plant. You walk past, eyes forward, and stop at a mirror next to the hall you both needed to go down. Both of your backs were to each other with distance put between you. You begin patting your face, and clicking your earring in the process. “This place has a lot of rooms to cover.”

Miguel hums. “I figured.”

You continue to pat down your neck. “Did you get anything from speaking to them?”

His jaw sets again. “Nothing of use.”

His brows form a firm line as his senses began to go off. There were eyes on him somewhere. Red eyes cautiously look from side to side, finding a guard staring right at him. Before either can react, a click of glasses averts their gazes to Bastava standing atop a bar stool. A slurred chuckle escapes his lips before clearing his throat. “It’s an honor to have you all here tonight. I wouldn’t have an event going any other way. Now-” His hands flick out. “-Let’s get this music going shall we?”

The crowd cheers. Marble panels on the walls trade themselves out for black ones. With a press of a button, they emit a turquoise light out to the floor. Electronic lines are built into instruments. The crowd murmurs in wonder as they begin to play themselves. People a few at a time begin to stray towards the center of the room.

The arachnid’s sense was still going haywire. Miguel gives the security a glance before coughing into the mic. “When I approach you, just go with it.”

Your face contorted. “What-?”

“Excuse me, miss?“

You turn around to his voice, both of your earpieces shutting down with being in front of each other. You look at him up and down, looking into his eyes on what his game plan was. With his back to the guard, he’s able to dart his eyes in his direction and then back for you to catch on. His hand goes out between you both. “I couldn’t help but watch you the entire night, would you like to dance?”

You look down at his hand, then up at his figure. Your smile of amusement slips into one of formality. Placing your hand in his, you say in a hushed tone. “I would love to.”

Before he turns, he gives you a look, almost as if to tell you to behave. He immediately sensed the amusement under your facade. Miguel’s arm curls around your own, the build of his upper arm brushing against your own. You take your walk to the dance floor with a quick glance to see what others were doing. The music was light, tones of classical filling the air. You follow suit, turning to place a hand on his shoulder. The large of your hand envelopes your hip, snaking your other hand into his. Your eyes were at your feet to follow the steps in your head.

His mouth clicks. “Look at me.”

Your head shoots up in surprise, immediately going to slight your brow.

“Keep your eyes on me and I’ll lead. Think we got eyes on us.”

You take a glance at the room and then back to him. “From where?”

“My left.”

He shifts your dance, going in the motions of steps so you can see who he’s talking about. A guard from his behind looks in your direction from the corner of your eye. You did as the man in front of you asked, only using your peripherals to keep most of your focus on him. Miguel’s eyes are fully on you.

“We’ll have to go down the hall.” You say in a low voice.

His fingers press into your lower back to decrease your space, going along with the front of that he didn’t hear you. As if his senses weren’t already on ten.

“No choice?” He asks.

“Not seeing any other way around it. We’re going to have to get that guy to move.”

“Fantástico.” He mutters sarcastically, switching your perspective around once again with his lead in the dance. You can’t help but take a glance down at both of your feet, realizing just how in sync he is with his steps. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”

His face contorts to confusion, blasphemy even. “You think this is good?”

You shrug. “I’ve met a lot of people with two left feet. Terrible crowd for the club scene.”

Your jest earns you a short huff. “This isn’t even music to really dance to, much less just a step around with feet.”

“Classical is timeless to those who hold onto it. Including snobs with their heads up their ass.”

He grunts with distaste before a pondering moment of silence falls over you both. You watch him take a look at your feet as both of you follow his motions. “Maybe I’ll show you what the real stuff is.”

His mutter allows for something unknown to stir in your chest. The hand that grips his gives him a taunting squeeze. “I challenge you to.”

“To teach you a thing or two?”

Your head tilts. “Who said I couldn’t dance?”

He goes to speak, but your eyes cutting away from him stops him. He notices quickly how you spot something, the cogs slowly turning in your head.

“The one by the hall.”

“Mhm?”

“There’s one way we can get him to move.”

You surprise him by moving in your direction, turning him to your previous position where he faces the holographic instruments. Your eyes watch his face slowly draw his conclusion, looking down at you with an affirming nod.

Once you’ve secured a drink in your hand, you play out the routine of a drunken beauty. You pull out the charming smile a few giggles wandering about your eyes, catch the closest person to the panels and your foot goes behind theirs. And with a swift motion make it all seems like an accident and their drink spills onto the holographic base. It shocks with electricity, causing the crowd to gasp. You let out a dramatic gasp of your own. Miguel was right behind you as he put his hand over his mouth. Bastava quickly notices how the music ends up properly, and it goes on to address the crowd. “People people not to worry, we have mechanics on hand for this!”

His guests give him a small clap. He relishes it in full before turning to your targeted guard and signaling him to get assistance. As the guard leaves, you both look at each other in a quick glance before going into fits of fake giggles. People step back from the panels, creating a cluster of distractions, and the both of you slip down the hall with ease.

As a pair, you take cautious steps down the hallway. Each of your eyes darts left and right, looking for a space that could remotely resemble an office. Miguel was on a determined path, the sooner he could get this done, the sooner he didn't have to feel like he was suffocating.

“Wait-” You stop him. He turns around quickly, looking to the same door you do— noticeably with a keypad right beside it. You both share a look, stepping into the door. Miguel looks over his shoulder to keep watch while you pull that square glass tool from the fabric of your attire. You press a few hologram buttons then face it towards the keypad. It takes a scan of it, lighting with a projection of which numbers had the most fingerprints. The more you could do with that thing, the more curious you were about the arachnid hero.

The keypad clicks with a green light and with a part of your attire in your hand, you open the door. To your surprise the space was normal looking compared to the heights Bastava would go for extravagance. A glass panel wall was behind the desk. To the left were large cabinets, and even enough space for two lounge chairs. Miguel goes to the right at the tech board whirling to life at his presence. All of Alchemax at his fingertips if he wished. His hand itched to take control of it but he had to remain on task, making sure that their fall would be from a higher drop. You catch how he sighs with frustration, turning back to you, and hovering over the computer. “Another drive?”

“Another drive.” He says, practically trying to convince himself.

You eye him up and down, giving him a short nod and turning back to the computer. “You don’t think there’d be any physical files we’d miss?”

Miguel scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Thanks to another scan of fingerprints, your go through two attempts to finally get the password. From there you slide out of the way for Miguel to take over. As he does so, you go to the door to keep watch. Your eyes keep to the crack you let open, ears catching the clicks of the keywords and various sounds. One sounded promising with a BING!

“How long?” You ask with your eyes still on the hallway.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Be fucking for real-”

“Anyone out there?”

“No-”

“-then shut the hell up. I’ll make it go as fast as I can.”

You snicker under your breath. “Shocker.”

You hear him exhale through his nose.

Fifteen minutes pass with smooth sailing. You have yet to see a passerby to the stairs. Miguel keeps his focus on the computer for a long while, leaving you in silence, until his head perks up abruptly. So abruptly, that you whip your head around in his direction. His face scrunches. when you turn your head around, you see what might be the cause: Bastava, coming up the stairs and heading in your direction.

You turn to Miguel. “How long?” His eyes go back to the computer “Five, maybe three minutes?”

You cursed under your breath, your body starting to fill with tension. Your eyes go back out to the crack in the door. Bastava stumbles slightly, but he doesn’t lose his way.

Your tone shifts to urgency. “Miguel-”

“I’m working on it.”

With one more head turn, you see that he’s only three pieces away. You feel your heart drop quickly, shutting the door as quietly and as quickly as possible.

“Shocking-” You don’t finish the curse when something tugs your arm. Your head whips around to get only a split second of Miguel pulling you towards an opened large cabinet. Taking you both inside, he shuts the door just in time for his senses to pick up the click of the keypad.

You control your breathing the best you can after the rush of adrenaline. Your chests graze each other each time you quietly breathe. There’s a stumbling of feet, a chair sliding against the marble floor that causes you two to wince. Miguel recognizes Bastava’s voice. “Hey there, gorgeous…no no, I’m not busy at all. Just want you..to come by…maybe after the party, eh?”

You roll your eyes, turning your head in the direction of the call to hear any sign of a goodbye. Miguel was doing the same, brows furrowing suddenly. As soon as you turn your neck something immediately takes hold of him. His nostrils fill with your scent, something new, he caught. It had to be that or perhaps his senses being on eleven ever since he heard Bastava coming up the steps. He closes his eyes, the scent envelops him whole with a tilt of his head.

“What are you wearing?”

The question snaps your head his way in an instant. You look him up and down. “Under-?”

“Your fragrance.” He said with a hard tone. You question if there was restraint in his voice. Your eyes linger on him before answering. “It’s new…picked it up for tonight.”

He hums quietly. Scarlet eyes still bore into your being even when you turn to listen for Bastava. The chairman was still on the phone. Something still along the lines of convincing someone to come over— Miguel couldn’t process his words, much less comprehend them. He was tuning his words out and into your heartbeat instead. His felt like it was quickening to your pace— a light thump loose of the threads of adrenaline.

You turn your head back, startled at how his eyes look. They were almost…carnal…in a way that you only knew how.

Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, causing him to let out a low “Don’t.”

He catches your eyes in a heated gaze. It didn’t help how close you both were. He wouldn’t have to move much to wrap around you. Your breath quickens, latching onto the sight of his parted lips. He does the same with yours, breath even heavier.

Bastava’s tone picks up. “Well, what can I do to convince you, baby? Just because we aren’t public doesn’t mean…” He scoffs with abrasiveness. “…Yes, it doesn’t matter- we’ve gone over this-”

He’s in an argument now, you know that much from that point. Everything goes in and out with your focus shifting entirely on Miguel. His eyes go lower, not to your lips anymore, but to your neck. His tongue suddenly felt *dry*, nose taking inhale after inhale of you and taking him further down the rabbit hole. Your eyes never leave him when an arm sneaks around your lower back to pull you into his body. You meet his head to line it with your own. With each of your breathing tickling the other’s face, you feel how worked he is.

Your breath hitches when he shoves his face into your neck. His air is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your hand goes to the back of his head in case you slip. His feet shuffle mere centimeters to place his other hand on the wall by your head.

“Carajo..” He mutters against you, head flooded by your scent. Now that he was fully surrounded by it, his senses soothed— barely, but enough to not raise suspicion. Your heartbeat was picking up, thumping inside his head. You feel something wet graze your neck in a slow lick, making you inhale tightly.

You’re trying to listen out for the man outside but it was growing difficult with the way Miguel was nosing your neck, as if there was any space left he had to get rid of. Every now and then, his lips brush against your neck and makes you shift under him. The hand on your back adds pressure.

“Thought you could handle me.”

“I can handle you just…” You let out a shaky exhale. “…fine.”

Miguel’s huff turns into a muffled sigh.

“…See that wasn’t so hard, cupcake. You get your sweet little ass over here after the party…Eleven…bye.”

You hear Bastava take a large gulp then sigh. A few steps go past you, making you both hold your breath. The steps stop for a few minutes then fade off to the other side of the room. You hear the door open and then shut, but you knew better than to rush out. You steady your breathing to become background noise to Miguel’s senses. He could still hear your heart calming and now, the steps of the chairman’s dress shoes echoing down his vast hall. He only eases when he knows Bastava is going down the stairs. “We’re good.”

He turns his head to be met with your nose brushed against his. Your eyes were big looking into his own. He knew you were wondering what the hell came over him. The one thing you did know was that all of what he was doing wasn’t to start anything but to give himself restraint.

Miguel swallows before you both leave the cabinet without another word.

Leaving the scene felt like the easiest part of the whole night. You two pretend to giggle drunkenly together back into the foyer, just in time to for Bastava to close the night. You slip into the leaving crowd to waddle alongside them. And since you felt eyes on you, you knew Miguel wasn’t too far behind.

You look out at Neuva’s brightly colored building from your passenger window. The car was heavy with silence, you could practically feel the weight of it right in the pit of your stomach. His hand on your thigh *certainly* didn’t help. The arachnid kept his eyes on the road, only keeping focus by kneading your flesh. Miguel glances at you through the interior mirror. Your lips were slightly obscured as you rested your chin in your palms but he could imagine them all the same.

Taking notice of the scenery, your exit flies past you at a moment’s notice.

“Not going back to my-?”

“No.”

You turn to catch his eyes in the mirror, quiet in both of your stares. Your lids lower. “…work-related?”

He turns his gaze back to the road and squeezes your thigh in his grip.

“…No.”

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @deputy-videogamer @vegas-writing-den @m150-50up @simplysolo @timotheesrealgf @thecityofspareparts @miguelsfangs (dunno why it won’t let me tag you guys, trying to figure it out!)

#writing #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #he ate my heart #spiderman across the spiderverse

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐂𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬ú𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ On Halloween night, your jealousy puts in danger your relationship with Miguel. On Día de Muertos, Miguel and you are officially forevermore lovers, baking pan de muertos and building an altar.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ angst, fluff, new relationship!trope, shy!soft!Miguel, shy!jealous!reader, unnoficial part two of burning witches (you don’t have to read it, but highly recommended)

𝐀/𝐍_ 1989 TV is amazing!. One of my faves is You are in love, use the song with this

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________________________________________________

How could you sit there eating vegetarian sushi and look so pretty?

Miguel was embellished, looking at your straightened hair and band graphic tee. You were talking about some movie you wanted to see with him while eating a roll of sweat potato, cream cheese, and other ingredients.

“Amor, are you listening?” How he could not feel embarrassed when you’re giving him a sweet smile.

“Sorry, I got distracted” You arch your brow, playfully.

“By what? Is there a pretty waitress behind me?” He rolls his eyes as you giggle, leaning to eat from his noddles.

“Actually, I was getting lost on how good you look today.” Now he chuckles after seeing you so flustered and avoiding his eyes with a mouth full of sushi.

“Ay, pero qué bonita” You swear your cheeks are going to explode because of Miguel and his constant flattering.

You won’t believe it's been a week since you two started dating.

“Ya!” You try to stop him from laughing at your blushed face.

“Okay pues, bonita” Both of you smile at each other. And even the people around you who are eating seem con motioned by the cuteness of your lover’s antics for you.

“So… this winter… Are you teaching me how to drive finally?” he eyed you briefly but ended up nodding.

“I guess so. Just… we’ll get you a junk car to start” You rolled your eyes. Of course, he didn’t trust you after telling him of that little accident from last year.

“Despite that, I’m okay. I want a vintage rav4. That was my childhood car, well… my dad’s but” he chuckled. There were a lot of moments where he found you being so cute and adorable.

“Sorry… I’m still learning to shut up.”

“No, hermosa. Never shut up” and there was his silly smirk that had you on your knees. In that instance, he unconsciously showed all the love he felt for you.

“I warned you. But… What are you doing on Halloween night?” Jess was hosting a retro Halloween-themed party.

You already had your vintage bat costume with shimmers and see-through fabric.

“Not sure yet…” his answer disappointed you a little. Of course, the relationship was new, but you really wanted to spend Halloween with him.

“Oh. That’s okay.” And then, your answer disappointed him a little. He was debating whether to propose something to you or not.

“You have plans…” you shrugged, finishing your sushi roll.

“Not sure yet” Your smile was honest. But only you knew that your reply was a way to protect yourself. You trusted your boyfriend, but you weren’t ready for an early first fight or related.

Neither of you proposed something to do together. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision…

…

Halloween day and you didn’t talk with Miguel. At least you knew he had a long mission and since you were done with your part, you left without having an opportunity to exchange words with him. He had been talking with a woman. Once you suggested him to hang out with him that night in the folkloric earth you almost got burned like a medieval witch.

Talking about witches, no magic tonight.

That didn’t stop you from attending Jess’s party.

“Girl, look at you…” Jess greeted dressed in a seductive mummy costume. Her baby was attached to her hip and also dressed as a little mummy.

“Hey, you’re holding a baby, Jessica.” She giggles after realizing what you meant.

“Yeah, and you showed up here dressed like that” Although your costume wasn’t as sexy as hers, it was very noticeable.

“What can I say?” Both of you laugh and finally, you enter the house.

“Drinks are in the yard, most of the adults are there. For the kids, fried stuff and pizza” You can see most of your younger friends there, playing games and eating.

“I think I’m in the mood for the mezcal and fried lasagna.”

“You got it!” As Jess leaves his baby crawling towards Gwen, who’s dressed like a zombie, you follow the host of the party outside. Promising yourself to go back inside and greet your friends.

“Oh my god! Peter!” You greet shocked. Peter was in an elegant Dracula costume. He looked very nice, in contrast to his usual disheveled looks at the Spider Society’s HQ.

“You showered!” The other guests laugh, and you keep greeting other coworkers and friends.

“Very funny. But you? Where’s your silly boyfriend I know you want to impress?”

“Not here,” you say laughing. And Ben is offering the mezcal you oh so desperately needed.

To be honest, you missed him. But you were a little proud and stubborn to admit it. Also, while you sunk all the possible jealousy about seeing Miguel and that spider woman talking earlier, you were a little afraid. Because deep inside you knew there would be some miscommunication problems with Miguel.

“Get comfortable. Peter was about to tell us his most spooky experience” Jess says appearing with a beer in her hand.

“Ready for it…” With that, the first round of alcohol began.

An hour later you are dancing with Margo and Pavitr. Then, every word Peter and Ben said made you laugh so hard. You think they’ve never been funnier than that night. And that was a lot to say. Especially from Peter who was naturally funny as hell.

…

You really wanted to pee. But you had been laughing so hard with Jess, Hobie, Ben and Peter. You are near tearing from the bad jokes and sassy comments floating around.

“Time up, time up. I’m gonna pee if I don’t go now.” Jess tells you where the bathroom is, and you start your way inside. And then you turn to the kitchen, your eyes wide open as you spot your boyfriend.

Miguel is there, all dressed in black, drinking a beer and laughing with Anya Corazón.

Jealousy makes your blood boil. But suddenly sadness floods you. The disappointment beats the anger, triggered by the high amount of alcohol in your system. Your brain knew it was silly and immature. But since the day of the sushi date, you had that little torn stuck, where Miguel wasn’t adding you completely to his plans.

As soon as Miguel spots you with teary eyes, you turn around, directly to the house door.

“Hey, wait up…” Miguel stops you a few steps away from the entrance.

“Are…Are you crying?” He asks when you finally face him.

You couldn’t help it. It was the insecurity of being with such a great and difficult person. So, you sigh, eyes all teary and a red nose tip too.

“Well. I had a really good time. And the last thing I expected on my way to the bathroom was finding my boyfriend drinking beers and laughing closely with a girl.” He sighs, his tall and broad figure covering your whole figure from any possible guest trying to see what is happening.

You looked very beautiful. He wasn’t even sure if Jess invited you, but how could have been so stupid? Of course, she would.

“I didn’t know you were coming” he admits. Calm tone, and a neutral face, but he avoids your eyes.

You look at him reluctantly. So, since he didn’t know he could be giggling and shit with girls? Nah, no way.

“Yeah… And that’s the fucking problem” you attack with a broken voice, leaving him there standing alone. Avoiding a fight.

He’s about to follow you. But he stays there, not even understanding what happened. But he questioned if it was over. A struck strike him in the heart. If he unintentionally hurt you, he would be fully disappointed with himself. Not on Halloween night. Not one day before a special one for him.

He would do things right.

But for the rest of the night, you don’t leave his head and thoughts in peace.

…

30 missing messages, 4 missed calls, and 5 voicemails on the next morning.

First, Jess…

Hey, why you left the party? Please call me, I need to know what happened.

Babe, Miguel told me what happened last night. He’s an asshole, but he loves you so much. Please talk to him.

Then Peter.

My dear friend, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. We were having such a great time. Listen, Miguel will try to talk to you. Tomorrow is a hard day for him. We know our boy, he’s not good with words and feelings, but he cares for you a lot. I talked to him all night after you left. He wasn’t right, but you have to talk to him, he loves you.

It’s gonna be fine, honey. Jess, me, the kids, we’re here for you. Love you!

And finally, Miguel.

Mi niña hermosa, I literally have no words to explain what happened last night. I just need you to know that… I love you. We need to talk about this, please.

Please, y/n. Tomorrow is Día de muertos and… I don’t want us to spend the day with misunderstandings.

Oh God…

Miguel sounded like a big teddy bear, saying lovely words to soothe you. It made your heart flutter, and it increased your hangover.

“Fuck…” you whispered, rubbing your eyes.

Flashes start hitting you. Having a great night, then seeing Miguel with Anya, and basically leaving him alone. How idiot you were.

You could have talked like a grown adult instead of throwing a tantrum and crying.

But you felt weird since he avoided telling you his plans for Halloween.

And finally, it hit you.

Maybe Miguel didn’t tell you anything because the following day of Halloween was Día de Muertos. A special day for him to remember his kid. He barely talked about Gabriella though. But the brief moments where he mentioned her to you, were unmatched. He missed his little girl. And you couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a daughter. You couldn’t leave Miguel alone. Or at least without an apology.

What a terrible girlfriend.

However, that didn’t excuse him from his poor communication skills.

You would do things right.

…

From both sides of the door, there's nervousness rushing.

You tug the hem of your skirt, then you hurry to brush your hair and wait. Miguel’s heart pounds as he suspects it’s you who’s knocking on the door. Since he rarely received visitors. So, when he opens the door, he finds you looking extremely shy and blushed.

“I’m sorry. I acted so immature, and I know today is a special day for you. I brought some things for you to use. And I’ll leave, I just wanted you-”

He pulls you in a tight hug, making you shut up. Around three minutes pass and he still holds you in his giant arms. You feel there are no more words needed as if the hug was a mutual apology.

Miguel digs his nose into your hair, smelling your shampoo and he thanks life for getting you two back together.

“I just wanted you here today with me…” he mumbles on your lips, before diving back and kissing your lips.

Finally, without breaking the kiss, he closes the door and leads you to the living room. His sneaky hands twirl you to make it easy. As your fingers get lost through his soft hair, he leans closer, holding your tiny waist compared to his hands. Your permission is when he stops his hands from traveling further, but you make him hold your hips. So, it’s enough. He kisses you with a smile on his face. Until you end up playing on his grey couch.

To you, is a bed. To Miguel, is his couch.

You know you’ll get your humbling moment. An impossible blush to miss appears and makes your boyfriend smirk.

“You don’t deserve it” his voice sounds deeper, and it sends shivers through your whole body and soul. Maybe you were guiltier than him, but you were so stubborn to act all submissive now. The best you could do was to take and savor what he decided to offer.

“But I’ll give it to you anyways…” your hands pull his shoulders to smash his lips again. Miguel knows he can proceed once his eyes are closed. So, he starts venturing his lips across your jaw and neck. You let out the first moan, and you’re glad you decided to appear on his doorstep.

…

The bed is wet. Not much, but there are some water spots that feel warm and cold at the same time. There’s also your empty wine glass when you turn left. Nueva York is setting for the sunset. You smile, stretching and savoring the pleasure of the little nap you took. Then Miguel comes in, in some damn grey sweats and his naked chest, your smile grows. And you can’t help but think you want him again.

Thank God you’re naked.

“You just woke up and you’re already looking that pretty?” you giggle at his comment. Your hair must be curled thanks to the shower. To Miguel, you look adorable, all his and only his.

“Put some shirt on…” he chuckled, cheekily.

“What? Am I turning you on again, bonita?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you hide under the covers laughing recklessly. And your heart pounds faster as you know he’ll likely scare you or something.

He does, and you have to scream. As you pop your head, you see him laughing.

“You just came out of the shower?” You ask him. Miguel probably washed your hair and took you out of the tub. Since you know you fell asleep as he washed your body in the tub.

“Not really. I just grabbed some things for the altar” his comment reminds you of what you’re celebrating that day. And suddenly you remember everything that led you to be there naked in his bed, and your heart warms.

“I’m sorry” you honestly say.

Miguel tilts his head, arms crossed, making him look broader than ever.

“I said it was okay, nena” he knows you want to say more. You make space for him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, you said it. But… I want this relationship to succeed. I want to know we won’t go through this again.” He sighs, but quickly smiles, caressing your leg.

“It won’t happen again. Something bothers us, we talk” and just like that, you have your massive boyfriend kissing you all over. He said Anya was an old recruit, she was a good friend and lately, she rarely spent time on the HQ, so Miguel was happy to talk to her. And you blushed out of embarrassment.

“Can we go cooking now?” Miguel nods. After letting you go, he threw a big sweatshirt at you. It was dark brown and covered you from chest to knees.

“It’s been a while since I used the stove and oven…”

“Doesn’t matter, dear” As Miguel follows you across his apartment, he can’t help but notice how small you look in his place. And he reminds himself how weird you look in Nueva York, generally. You don’t belong to any specific earth. Chaos magic witches barely existed, and they never glitched.

You haven’t used magic in the last days since your last mission. Not even you had time to remember. Since the Halloween party, your mind had spun over your friends, Halloween, Miguel, her friend Anya, and your jealousy.

But soon he forgets again about it because you are eager to make pan de muerto with him.

“You can help me with the cream. We’re making a liquor and cheese filling” his mouth watered. Since he left his childhood home. He never did pan de muerto again.

His mother used to bake with some alcohol too, but the fillings weren’t very popular at the time. And now, being able to retake that tradition with you was special to him. His little girl would be very happy to his dad smiling again. Miguel mixes everything together and with a little spoon, he hands it to you.

“Is it good?” He asks shyly, you open your mouth, and he gives you to taste the filling.

“Wow, this is amazing, Miguel. I love it!” He smiles proudly. You are about to dip your finger in the cream to taste it again, but your man snatched it away.

“Hey!” He soothes your discontent with a new kiss. And you’re beyond shocked about how often Miguel was kissing you now. You let his tongue in, and between the rest of the cream and Miguel’s incredible kissing abilities, you had to moan again.

“Okay, pause. Or else we won’t finish” you explain, returning to the oven to see how the flour was getting puffy and the smell of orange filled the air of the kitchen.

Nueva York was welcoming the sunset early as the time was about to change in early November. So, the kitchen tiles reflect an interesting pink and orange illumination. Seeing Miguel placing the cream on a piping bag with the sunset in the window in front of him, makes you happy. The air is dry, and your nose feels dry too. There’s a warm wind that stumbles off the windows, startling you often, but it’s perfect.

You are in love.

…

“And… done!” You say lighting one last candle, you go back with Miguel to hug his waist and appreciate the art you two made. It’s a fucsia, orange, purple, and gold Altar de Muertos.

“This is perfect” Miguel admits. The altar has everything. The food; paletas payaso, bubulubus and picafresas. Then there’s a big plate of polvorones, flan, arroz con leche and agua de horchata. The candles make the pan de muerto shine because of the sugar. And the cempasúchil petals made everything look even prettier.

On the top shelf, Gabriella O’Hara’s picture was placed. She had a pink sweatshirt and her soccer headband. But her big smile and light blush are what made Miguel smile widely. He truly missed her. But he always knew having her on that earth wasn’t meant to be.

And now, he knew that thanks to that… he found you.

And who knows? Maybe Miguel could have a kid of his own in earth-928 someday with you. He had nothing to fear again. He knew you two were meant to fall into pieces together, just like it had happened. And Miguel also knew how proud Gabriella was of him. So, he was celebrating her short life. He would apologize every year from now on. But he would also use November 1st to remember how much he loved her.

Just like he did with you.

“Te amo mucho, preciosa” You raise your head to look at him in shock.

It was the first I love you. And he said it. But your emotion and love make you quickly answer.

“Yo también, Miguel” his head tilts to bump with yours in the most adorable way.

He walks away to grab something from the side of the altar. When he turns, he gives you a gorgeous bouquet of cempasúchil.

“I saved this for you” he scratches the back of his head, nervously.

“How did you know I wanted one?” It’s your smile that makes his days. And he intends to be a constant reason in the long term.

“I just knew. And when we were doing the altar… Fue tu carita la que te delató, bonita” Giggles and a blush erupt from you.

“Thanks, corazón” you thank him shyly.

Thankfully the sound of the oven makes you widen your eyes.

“OH! The rest of the pan” you squeal excitedly, almost running to the kitchen.

He follows you chuckling.

Soon, there are two plates of azulejos on the table, with two pieces of pan de muerto filled with liquor and cream cheese. Some candles are there too and the cempasúchil bouquet is now in water. As the pan starts to get less warm, you are softly kissing Miguel again. And for the first time in years, both of you are so happy to be celebrating Día de Muertos.

It wasn’t about death anymore. It was about love.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #oscar issac x reader

[cryptidcasanova]

Skull Rock Reckoning

Demon!Eddie Munson x Reader

Ohmygoodness. Like, holy shit, I got the coolest Hellfire Haunts request in my asks. I had it all ready to go, was going to save it in my drafts, and then it never did save. Poof. It’s just gone, not in asks or drafts, so I am so sorry if I am losing you in the tumblr mess!

It was a request for Demon!Eddie, using prompt #1 (I’ve waited lifetimes for you.) It was so so sooooo good, I just had to write it!

Summary: Imagine if Jason Carver and his buddies tricked the reader into going up to skull rock, and instead it was really a sacrifice ploy. They were trying to sacrifice them to summon a demon (Eddie) who is less than thrilled, but it turned out to be a soulmate encounter.  

So! If this was your ask, please let me know, and I’m sorry I lost it in the mix!

Warnings: Dark!Soulmate AU, Yandere, Soft!Dark Eddie, Violence, Blood, Dubious themes.

Words: 3k

Jason Carver was the golden boy of Hawkins High, and even after he graduated, his name still carried the same authority.

Sure, you had seen him around. You remembered the way he laughed around his friends and how his eyes would linger when he thought you weren't looking when you two were in school. You knew of his popularity and affinity for the cheer squad. So yes, you knew of Jason Carver.

You just never expected to hear him call your name while you were cruising down the grocery store aisles.

The sound of it was strong, and you turned to see him walking down the aisle with a shopping basket in his hands. You stopped with a slight wave. The smile he gave you was jolting.

"Hey," He grinned. "Have you ever been up to Skull Rock?" He asked, leaning against the wall of canned food.

He had never initiated a conversation with you before, but then again, neither had you. You two ran different circles growing up.

"I can't say I have." You told him with a lazy grin, moving down the aisle to pick up a jar of peanut butter. He watched with mild fascination.

"We're throwing a little party up there for Halloween. Tomorrow night. Spooky things go on up there," Jason continued, and you walked alongside him.

You turned your head back to his, catching his stare. "You know, they say it was a place for satanic worship." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"It sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus."

He scoffed lightly, putting a hand over his chest.

"It's the best place to be. There are no cops, and there will be drinks and music. It'll be a lot of fun." He said. "And I wanted to see if you'll come this year." He gave you a serious look.

You had never been invited by Jason Carver to a party before.

Even when Steve used to throw parties, that was different. You knew Steve, had mutual friends with him. Jason was hardly an acquaintance.

"I don't know," You thought about it, weighing the pros and cons.

"Give it a chance," He smiled again. "Give me a chance. I can pick you up and everything."

You gave him a once over.

Jason wasn't a regular on your radar, but you did notice him. It was hard not to with his popularity and good-boy persona. And you didn't have any plans.

"Oh, what the hell," You nodded with a grin. His dashing expression was blinding. "I'll bring beer."

You should have known it was too good to be true.

Jason had his own agenda all along. You couldn't have known that it was a trap, that you were just another checkmark on his list.

You couldn't have known even when he picked you up in his truck the next day. He was a gentleman, complimenting your little black dress and bat earrings. You got all dolled up for Halloween. He even offered to help you bring your beer bottles to his truck.

For a fleeting moment, you were excited.

But as soon as you opened the truck door, his old basketball buddies jumped out. You were in too deep. You knew something was terribly wrong.

They dragged you into the backseat, covering your mouth and holding you down. The fight was laughable. There were four of them, covering your mouth with duct tape and surrounding you in the truck. They were terrible.

Your wrists and the crook of your elbows were taped. Above your knees and down by your ankles were taped. It was a little more than overkill.

And then, you were trapped between two of them in the backseat while Jason drove, one of his cronies messing with the music.

You couldn't fight off the roll of nausea in your stomach as one of them wafted something under your nose. Was it sage? Weed? It was disorienting, and you couldn't get away.

"Let's go catch us a monster, boys." Jason grinned, looking in the rearview mirror with wild eyes. "This is the year; I can feel it."

There was something deceptively charming in those eyes, something much darker than you thought Jason Carver could be capable of.

There was no Halloween party at Skull Rock.

You tried to fight against the hazy feeling in your head, even as Jason's silhouette in the front seat got blurry and you slumped against the backseat.

He was the monster.

The night was quiet when Jason and his goons finally dragged you out of the truck and into the woods. You had no clear sense of direction. You felt stoned, your legs swaying lightly as he carried you over his shoulder.

The terrain was rugged, and you could feel stray branches and pine needles hitting the back of your legs.

Your vision was blurry, even as they finally broke through the trees to a small clearing. The trees dispersed, and as you were turned around, Skull Rock was the least of your problems.

In front of Skull Rock, Jason and his friends had drawn a symbol on the floor around you. A pentagram, for fucks sake. It was surrounded by a ring of salt, and you looked at your captor like he was bat-shit insane.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed, crouching down in front of you. “We did this all for you. I said it’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Two images of Carver swayed in front of your eyes, and you groaned out a complaint as he tugged you forward to the middle of the circle. Your knees dug into the cold ground, and you tightened your arms, trying to fight against him.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He tormented, pulling a dark robe over his shoulders. “We can’t do it without you. There’s never been anyone in the god-forsaken town quite like you. No one is good enough. No one pure enough.”

Your stomach was in knots.

Around the outside of the circle, you could see the others lighting candles and setting down bowls of spices, crystals, and coins around the star tips of the pentagram. You thought your heart was going to beat outside of your chest.

“There’s just one more thing.” Jason tugged at your hands, and you looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t look so scared, babe. You are the prettiest sacrifice we’ve had.”

You hardly had time to notice the pocketknife he procured before it was too late. He was tugging your hands, laying them palms up into the air before slicing across your skin. Your eyes went wide in horror, and you went to scream but couldn't.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes blurry with the threat of tears.

The next thing you knew, Jason pushed down to the forest floor, straight in the middle of the circle. And as your bloodied palms touched the ground, the men began to chant.

There was a pit of anguish in your stomach.

The candles wavered, and as Jason and his goons chanted, you could have sworn that a thick fog filled the area.

You pushed yourself up to your knees. A wild wind blew through the clearing, and the smell of iron filled your lungs.

You were going to die there.

The chanting waned and wavered until the words were booming in your head. You could feel every unintelligible syllable in the crevices of your heart. It was a seizing, aching feeling. You felt like it would pull you in different directions until you realized the candles blazed with a burning hellfire. You could feel the heat against your skin.

Something was happening.

A figure slowly emerged out of the fog, sprouting from the ground in front of you. Tall and humanoid, you fought back the cry clawing up your throat. You couldn’t see anything except for the outline of two fiery eyes. It was clear to see they were angry. You needed to get out of there.

It was a man stepping out of the fog. The candlelight illuminated the shadows of his body. He was bare, save for several tattoos scattered across his skin, and his hair was a wild halo of dark locks that cascaded around his shoulders. As the figure came into view, you had to shake your head to ensure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

He was captivating.

Glowing eyes and a rounded nose looked down at the circle, his expression void of pleasantries.

"Abaddon, mischief maker, we summon you to the land of the living,” Jason’s voice boomed across the circle.

Even behind the ridiculous cloak, you could sense Jason’s confidence wane.

He got what he wanted, didn’t he?

The man, that thing, you thought, tilted his head to the side with a scowl. You almost thought you saw sharp canines poking into his bottom lip.

“We summon you with the blood of the innocent. That's what we brought you.” Jason called out with a snicker. “Hell, she might even be a virgin.”

Your head snapped from the figure to the cloaks, bile souring your tongue. You resented them, all of them.

The figure stepped forward, the dark fog swirling around his feet.

"You will do our bidding," Jason spoke bravely now. "We've called upon you, and you will obey my wishes-" But Jason's words faded as the creature reached its full height.

"No."

The lone syllable made your hair stand on end. You looked up at the man, what you so desperately tried to make out as a man, but it was fruitless. His movements were too smooth, calculated like a predator.

The heated embers of his eyes were harrowing, annoyance dancing across his features. Two short horns were poking out from under the mess of curls.

The creature stalked forward in the circle, and Jason took a step back, but you couldn't move. You couldn't breathe.

"I was not summoned here for you. I don’t serve you."

His expression shifted as he towered over you. The beast of a man crouched down to your eye level. It took everything in you not to scream or lash out. But you were terrified.

He was deceptively handsome, and the shadows of his face were illuminated in the candlelight.

His eyes, blazing with hellfire, changed, just for a moment. If you blinked, you would have missed it, but you could have sworn those dark eyes were brown. That they were almost human. But it was gone in a flash. The weight of the situation you were in was harrowing.

"You're not supposed to be here."

The low rumble of his words was unexpected, and you looked up at him in shock. His words were gentle, his tone leveled.

His eyes narrowed, burning with something angry as he looked down at your palms. You were clutching them both to your chest. The dark cloth of your dress and exposed skin bloomed red.

You were trembling.

He reached out slowly, tugging your hands away from your body before looking at the slashes welling with blood. You were too frightened to move as his eyes swept back to yours.

"They hurt you."

With his other hand, s sharp claw cut the bindings on your arms and legs. It was like he was cutting through butter instead of layers of tape. You watched in amazement as he pulled the tape back from your lips. The shuddering breath you took didn’t deter him.

The man's focus returned to your bloody palms, cupping his hands under yours like a bowl. His hands were warm, his touch slowly dissolving the tension in your shoulders.

"They tricked me," You whispered blindly.

Your focus shifted, fixated on the feeling of his warm hands in yours. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You watched as your blood bled between your fingers onto his and down to the ground. A low sound at the back of the creature’s throat pulled your eyes back to his.

It was frustrating. If you thought about it for a moment longer, you would have realized the sound of it was needy, longing even.

“What the hell is going on?” You heard Jason curse from outside the circle, making you wince.

The creature looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, sweetheart," His voice was tender, apologetic. Clawed fingers trailed up and over the side of your face. His eyes danced across yours.

You could have sworn you were in a trance.

For a moment, the pentagram and the men outside the circle disappeared. You let all thoughts fade away, looking at the man in front of you. And you just looked at him, scanning the curve of his eyebrows down to the cupid's bow of his lips. He was so stunningly familiar. God, he was beautiful.

"Close your eyes." He instructed, and at your hesitance, he leaned in. His clawed hand cradled your chin, and you watched his eyes soften for the second time, umber pools staring back at you. He smelled of earth and iron. “I will not forsake you.”

His tone was your undoing.

With another long moment of looking at him, you followed his instructions and closed your eyes. He hummed in approval as you felt his touch fall away.

There was a sudden crack, like lightning, in the air. You could smell metal, the heat of it fanning your face. But you kept your eyes closed.

You were steadfast even when the sound of shocked screams and pleas came from Jason and his band of goons. And then there was a thunderous noise of thousands of wings flapping around. A low-clicking noise surrounded you. Bats were swarming the skies. The sounds of carnage tore at your senses. Your lip quivered before you could control yourself.

And all too soon, it was quiet.

Fear gripped your heart, and you were compelled to call out.

“Ad – Abm –” You started but stumbled. You didn’t remember his name. There was a gentle sound of footsteps crunching on leaves before you heard him come back to you.

“I’m right here,” His voice was darker but still controlled. “Don’t call me that name, angel.”

You opened your eyes at the endearment. What was staring back at you was almost human.

You were right. His eyes were brown with the slightest glow, and Jason was gone as you looked around the circle. They were all gone. And his attention was solely on you.

“Your blood,” He urged, pulling your attention back to your hands. “Sweetheart, we need to stop the bleeding.”

You nodded blindly. God, when did your hands start shaking?

He took your left hand and turned it over, dragging his thumb along the incision.

The wound closed before your eyes, leaving behind a raised, thin scar. You let out a breath of relief. Rivulets of your blood stained his hands, but he didn’t care.

The man hesitated when he dropped your hand and moved to the other. You looked up at him carefully.

“You called for me,” His words were heavy, and the air around you was charged with electricity. When you looked up at him, his face was set with the hint of a smile. "I've waited lifetimes for you."

Your heart was hammering in your chest.

You tried to stutter out an apology, that it was all a big mistake, but the shake of his head silenced you. His intentions were set.

"You bled for me," He raised his other hand and sliced into his own palm with a clawed index finger. "And I will bleed for you.”

Thick, dark ichor pooled against his skin. It wasn't natural. You closed your fist instinctively.  

"But, why?" You dared to ask. "Why would you do that?"

The look he gave you turned into a boyish grin.

"Because you called for me. I'm bound to you," His eyes were tormenting. "You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you? If you don't like the sun, I'll make it rain for you. I'll fix all your broken things. I'll keep you nice and close. I'll keep you safe. Don't send me away, angel."

The lilt of his voice was hypnotic.

You weren't sure you could turn him away. You didn't know if you even wanted to. He saved you.

As you listened, your heart ached. You wanted that. You wanted to believe him.

"I'm already bound." He tried again, inching closer.

His plea was so soft, so tender. At the call of your name, your breath hitched, looking up at those big brown eyes. He was looking down at you expectantly.

"Take my hand. Don't make me beg."

He was down on his knees in front of you, his face shrouded in shadows and candlelight. He wasn't the monster you thought him to be.

"Who are you?" You asked in a whisper.

You pushed yourself up to your knees, meeting his eye level.

"Just call me Eddie, sweetheart." He grinned, holding his palm up to you. "Please, take my hand. And I'll explain everything."

You weren't sure if it was the compelling look in his eyes or the softness of his words, but how could you say no?

He saved you. Eddie saved you from the monsters in the woods.

You took his hand without looking away from his eyes, feeling the heat and strength in his hold. You swore you could feel the inky ichor as it mixed with your blood into the cut.

And the way Eddie's eyes lit up? It was like you had hung all the stars in the sky.

But it was too much. The heat in your veins was all-encompassing. You could feel the nerves in your body going haywire.

Eddie’s toothy grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut. He pulled you close before you could fall, sinking into his embrace.

There was a new excitement in his eyes. The candlelight flickered, more intense than it had ever been before.

He was already bound to you. But what he didn't tell you was that you were willingly binding yourself to him. Eddie wasn't worried; he'd have forever to find a way to tell you.

Back to Hellfire Haunts.

#hellfire haunts #demon!eddie #demon!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson imagine #demon x reader