#so he decides he HAS to interfere and help him

[wrappedinthemilkyway]

A Lover's Embrace

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After ignoring your anxiety for too long, it all comes out. Luckily, Joel is there to hold you through it.

Warnings/Tags: Soft!Joel, can imagine game!Joel or tvshow!Joel, can be pre-outbreak or post-outbreak, reader has no desciption, petnames, crying, anxiety and difficult emotions, comfort

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: I have had nothing but anxiety for the past couple of weeks and finally had some room to breathe so I decided to write a little comfort piece.

You’d spent the entire week trying to ignore the feeling that had been bubbling inside you. 

The first three days were spent in denial. The anxiety that had started to swirl in you lingered more like a nuisance than a real threat. You couldn’t understand why it was there, why now. 

So you pushed through it, carried on with your daily tasks as though it wasn’t there. 

But after those first few days of denial, it had become unbearable. It was impossible to escape the feeling that was overtaking your body, the sensation digging deeper and deeper into your chest until you were sure you would collapse in on yourself. 

It had become suffocating, and that suffocation only magnified what you were feeling. A week into feeling this way, with no end or remedy in sight, the anxiety within started to bubble and leak out. 

There was a sadness mingling with it now. A feeling of despair, of frustration, with yourself as much as it had also been about the unwanted feeling. 

Through it all, the main priority had been caging it in and locking it up, determined to not let it interfere with your life or with Joel’s. 

Joel had been busy, too. The more he was needed by others, the longer he spent away from home. When he’d return to your shared home late into the evening, you already in bed, you didn’t have the heart to lean on him. He was carrying so much. He always carried too much. And you didn’t want him to have to carry you despite his exhaustion. 

This night wasn’t very different from those other nights. 

Joel was still not home. The darkness of the night had already started to take over the sky, and the house you occupied had become silent once again. And that feeling, that anxiety, only grew in that silence. 

A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you aimlessly walked through the space, eyes scanning for ways to distract yourself from the feeling taking over. Hand pressed to your chest, an attempt at grounding yourself, as you tried to steady your breathing. 

You moved into the kitchen, deciding that tea would help, that the warmth would somehow end the anxiety. The heat, however - like every other night so far -, did nothing. It instead felt like the warmth was scorching you, the heat of your anxiety mingling with the tea, fueled by it. 

You tried everything. You did those breathing exercises, you opened a window; you’d even tried touching something soft, a blanket Joel had gifted you, in hopes that it would somehow replicate his presence and ground you. But nothing worked. 

Tears of frustration gathered at your eyes, and you began to make your way into your bedroom, hoping that sleep would come faster than all the previous nights. Hoping that the feeling would end. 

You watched as the clock kept moving. 8pm. 9pm. 10pm. And then, finally, 11pm. 

The lack of sleep and the constant state of tension your body had been in the past few days was not enough for you to fall asleep. Your body ached, heavy and exhausted from the stress it had been put under. A dull throb lingered in your head, eyes burning as you closed them. The tears had started falling, no longer contained. 

You eventually heard the front door open, the sound loud in the silence despite the way Joel was trying to be careful with it. You wiped your tears away, closing your eyes and turning your back to the door, hoping that he would think you were asleep just as he had done all the other nights. 

His steps resounded as he made his way to your shared bedroom. The door creaked open slowly, and you could feel rather than hear Joel make his way toward the bed. The sound of Joel undressing and getting ready to join you was the only sound in the room. 

You felt the bed dip behind you as he lowered himself onto it, a small grunt escaping his lips. He shuffled, moving himself into a comfortable position on his back, and the sigh of exhaustion and relief that came out of him at the feeling of finally resting brought a new batch of tears to your eyes. You didn’t want to be a burden to him. You’re just a burden. 

You felt Joel slowly move toward you, his arm snaking around your torso and pulling you against his chest just as he always did. You tried to stifle the sound of your sobs, but the shaking of your body and small sniffle that escaped you was immediately felt and heard by him.

His hand pulled you into him tighter, his head lifting from the pillow to look at your face, studying whether you were awake or not. 

Joel immediately sat up, his torso reaching across you to turn on the lamp beside your head. The sudden light made you squint, eyes clenching even tighter, but Joel cradled your face gently in his palms, turning you towards him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He whispered, the concern obvious in his voice as much as the exhaustion was. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?” 

His eyes scanned your body, hand lifting the sheets so he could see if you were in any visible pain. 

You shook your head, hand moving on top of the one cradling your face to keep it there. The tears kept falling, everything that had been locked away for so long finally spilling out of you. 

“‘m not hurt, I just-” you whispered back. “I don’t feel good.” 

He pulled you into him, body cradled in his arms as he held you against his chest, face gazing down at you as you lay there wrapped in him. 

“Your head hurt?” He asked, still unsure of what was wrong. 

You shook your head at him, the tears still falling as you try to lean even further into him. 

“No, I’m not in pain, Joel.” You sniffled.

“Baby, you’re making me worried- what’s going on?” He asked, hand rubbing a soothing pattern on your back. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong. Something’s not right but I don’t know what. I just… I feel so scared. I’m so anxious.” You whisper. 

He moves to press a kiss to the top of your head before pulling the sheets over his body and yours, intertwining you together, pulling you into him. 

You lie there in silence for a while, your confession heavy in the air. The sound of his breathing and his heartbeat at your ear begins to slowly lull you from your panic. The warmth of his body was soaking into yours, the strength of his embrace making you feel safer than you had done in a very long time. 

“How can I make it better?” He whispers, finally. “I don’t… I don’t want you to feel that way but I don’t know what to do for you.”

You move your head, finally facing him, and lean to press a soft kiss onto his lips. “Just hold me.” You whisper to him. 

He nods his head, pressing an equally soft kiss onto your lips as he keeps his arms wrapped around you. The silence continues, his arms and presence grounding you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper to him, feeling new tears start to gather at your waterline. 

“What are you sorry for?” He whispers, the confusion audible in his voice. 

“‘m sorry you’re having to stay up with me right now. You should be sleeping, you’ve had a long day.” You sniffle.

“You don’t have to feel sorry about that, darlin’.” He whispers. “I want to stay up with you.”

He presses a kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make you feel better.” He reassures you, another kiss pressed to your lips. “I love you.”

The warmth of his words and his actions brought a comfort you hadn’t had that entire week. And while the fear and anxiety hadn’t completely disappeared, you could feel them slowly ebbing away.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller fluff #joel miller comfort #soft!joel miller #joel miller x you

[lastdivantruther]

don't trust her dazai, she's gonna blackmail you to buy every flavor of ice creams and bully you anytime chuuya is around.

i don't trust my writing to be readable so dialogs under the cut:

Kyouka: Dazai-san, is it true that you're going to die of heartbreak if you have to hide your undying love for big brother any longer?

Dazai, earlier that day: If poor Chuuya hides his undying love for me any longer, I'm afraid he'll die of heartbreak!

Dazai, now: 'Not exactly in those words...'

Kyouka: I don't want you to die. So I decided to help you by acting as your illegitimate child. With this plan big brother will take pity on us and agree to go out with you.

Atsushi, murmuring to himself: Could it work? I mean, I wouldn't fall for it myself ofc, but Chuuya-san seems like a kind person... Would I fall for it?? If Aku had an....

Tsushi and Dazai: 'Isn't that the plot of the TV show from last night?'

Dazai: Kyouka-chan, that's a PERFECT idea!! 🌸

Kunikida, from his desk: No it's fucking not!

#this sounded way funnier in my native language #atsushi and kyouka are those siblings who look very levelheaded from the outside #but the moment they get used to you they show their true colors #which is both share one braincell that never gets used except for creating chaos #add aku to this mix and you're gonna have very serous explanations of very stupid logics #idk i think they would have so much fun together #anyway back to kyouka's plan #chuuya sees through kyouka's fake tears immediately because my guy worked with dazai for three years #but he gets so annoyed at dazai's attempt of caretaking #so he decides he HAS to interfere and help him #not because he wants to okay #at one point they forget about kyouka who disappears with dazai's wallet #bsd #bsd fanart #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #kyouka izumi #bsd kyouka #bsd atsushi #soukoku #comics #my art #i probably butchered english a couple of times till this point so thanks for reading so far #i'm alright with getting my language mistakes pointed at me #also this page is super unfinished but i want to move onto the new stuff so #maybe one day i will have time and patience to finish a drawing

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU - If his parents are going to treat him like a punk, he might as well lean into it. 

Danny is getting seriously worn down by his parents constantly asking him to explain why he’s gone all the time and why his grades have slipped so far. I mean, sure, it took them months to notice, but now that they have, they’re alluding to the fact that he’s turned into some kind of punk and that he’s not taking life as seriously as he should be. This is what makes Danny kind of snap. 

He cuts his hair, gets Sam to pierce his ears in a few places (which sucked but was nice to catch up with her since Team Phantom didn’t get out much anymore), learns how to skateboard and gets Tuck to help him mask his identity on the internet as he begins online protesting the unethical treatment of ghosts. He makes picket signs that he leaves outside of Fentonworks and it takes days before his parents see them because they’re down in the lab. They go back up immediately after his parents take them down, and he begins tagging buildings with protest sayings and art all over amity park.

No matter how they ground him, the Drs Fenton are at a loss as to what to do to control Danny. Jazz says it’s not her place to interfere and is cheering her little brother on for being passionate about a new hobby. 

Danny’s honestly really vibing with the changes. He always understood why Sam wanted control over her own look, but he’s really leaning into the whole shebang. Ember and Johnny13 have never bonded over anything more than they have the punk transformation of their King. He’s really representing them fr fr- she taught him how to play the bass. 

With enough protests about the Anti-Ecto acts, the JL step in and begin their efforts to lobby change within the US government. Constantine is up to date on the new King being from Earth and thinks they might be able to weasel out a non-apocalyptic scenario if they reach out sooner than later. A letter gets sent through the infinite realms (No way in fuck was John going to try and summon a fucking King excuse you Bats)- Danny gets the letter and decides to let them sweat a bit, sending back his own letter that just says “K.” cause he’s learned that adults/authority figures all suck ass until proven otherwise. After a few days, a portal opens up in the middle of their meeting. 

Ghost King Phantom is rolling in on a skateboard, with the Ring of rage dangling from one of his ear piercings and ice crown floating above his head. He’s drinking an off brand smoothie, wearing a leather jacket that has medieval chainmail on it over his now distressed hazmat suit and his boots steel toed.

“...Sup. Y’all want to do something about this whole situation? I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.” Danny greets them. He means that he’s willing to be diligent in his efforts to disbar the Acts. It gets interpreted as him threatening to end the world, ofc, but that’s an issue he has to deal with later. 

“King Phantom we have been working daily to-” 

“Uh huh. Look, didn’t you guys have like a teenage group? I want to work with them, they’ll probably actually help me get shit done while you fuck around with paper work.” 

#the most punk thing you can do is protest #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #dc universe #young justice crossover #danny doesnt want to work with the authorities but is willing to work with YJ #Tim drake gets a new skateboarding buddy #danny's skateboard is kind of cheating tho cause he and it can float #kon is always down to take down a government sponsored org that does unethical research #cassie just wants to fight for him and fix his fashion choices #bart recognizes him from the speedforce and they bond over time being a fake ass bitch #i just wanted the funny visual of danny skateboarding into a meeting on the watchtower

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it.  After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin.  You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it.  It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read.  Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it.  Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed.  Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything.  “Green tea, right?  With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you.  You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you.  “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip.  He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind.  His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh.  “Thank you,” you finally said.  So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea.  That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness.  You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side.  He found it so irritating— that confidence.  Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically.  You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all.  Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie.  For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file.  But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you.  You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time.  No, it was the drugs finally kicking in.  You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited.  He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance.  He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply.  He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

~

You woke up on the floor.  You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard.  And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers.  You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t.  You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own.  You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move.  The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you.  “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things.  One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment.  Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them.  “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear.  “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous.  He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least.  As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing.  You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist.  This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist.  And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued.  “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault.  Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved.  In fact, you were horrified.  He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes.  Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there.  You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man.  He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women.  Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.  

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there.  It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares.  You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do.  And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace.  But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent.  You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently.  “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected.  You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating.  God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field.  It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged.  You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him.  And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted.  He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added.  “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it.  It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with.  Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg.  It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t.  “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly.  Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak.  Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes.  He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.  

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear?  Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused.  He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it.  You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it?  Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase?  Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words.  “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth.  Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right?  But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed.  Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted.  “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers.  You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly.  But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare.  You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you?  Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked.  But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.  

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy.  You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone.  But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before?  Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl.  “Did he know exactly how to touch you?  Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly?  Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor.  “I think you wanted to be put in your place.  You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else.  You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true.  He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once.  “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed.  "I only gave you a small dose.  Can you move at all?  Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan.  You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided.  "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized.  "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street.  He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you?  Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you.  You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled.  "You think you're so fucking smart, and special.  But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better.  Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy.  Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before.  Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this.  They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat.  What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt.  He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it?  You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust.  You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut.  It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his.  “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure.  Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.  No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting.  “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered.  “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded.  “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.  

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again.  “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed.  “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck.  “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there.  Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again.  So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder.  "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck. 

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air.  You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face.  "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock?  Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately.  "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster.  "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you.  “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body.  You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.  

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him.  Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong.  Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time.  Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all.  He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules.  Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please.  He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away.  “‘Please’ what, honey?  You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted.  “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for.  You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away.  He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare.  “This isn’t about me.  This is what you wanted.  This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.  

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip.  “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you?  You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away.  Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work.  His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead.  His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark.  His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you.  He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured.  Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner.  You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask.  This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you.  “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected.  Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come.  I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse.  “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.  

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment.  For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually.  “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you.  “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered.  "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you.  "Shh, it's alright.  I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close.  Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace.  You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped.  He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed.  Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.  

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on.  “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was).  “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

[a-hazbin-reader]

OMG CAN YOU DO A ALASTOR X MOTHER READER WHERE THEY WAS TRYING TO HAVE ALONE TIME YK MOMMY N DADDY TIME BUT THE TWINS CAME AND RUIN PUSHING ALASTOR AWAY SO HE WON'T TOUCH THEIR MOMMY

👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive?, Alastor VS His babies, Alastor and his kids being possessive

Description: 👆⬆️

When it first happens, Alastor thinks it's adorable and can't help laughing at his silly children

He had come back from an overlord meeting and was eager to kiss you, pulling you in close

"How was the meeting, darling?"

His lips are almost touching yours, practically teasing both of you by denying that final touch

"Uneventful as always, my dear~"

Just when he goes to close the distance, you're both suddenly frozen in place, feeling little hands pushing you apart

You both look down to see your twins trying to shove Alastor away from you with all their little might

Their little faces scrunched up in outrage and concern as they try to break their father's iron grip on you

"Oh my~! It seems someone doesn't like it when I take their mother's attention~"

He's laughing and picking up the twins just to squish them between you and him, kissing their squishy cheeks

"BA!"

The second time it happens, Alastor is shocked, not realizing how serious his babies were about this

They're sitting in their highchairs, being fed by you when he comes up to kiss your cheek

His arm wraps around you and he rubs his cheek on you, not paying attention to the warning growls from his spawn

Or the way their ears fold back and they start bleating at him to get off their mother

He goes to kiss you, when suddenly, there's a wet slap of food hitting his cheek

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing, your twins already grabbing another handful of food

"Now now~ It's important to share with your pap-OH! That's not very polite..!"

It seems Alastor has finally met his match, running out of the room with his tail between his legs

The third time is when Alastor starts getting concerned, the two of you alone in bed

He just wanted some time alone with you after you two had put the twins down for the night

And you could hardly deny him with his lips kissing along your neck and strong arms pulling you against him

Eventually, his lips find yours, and the kiss turns heated with wandering hands starting to slide under each other's clothes-

When there's a cry from the baby monitor and you both are taken out of the mood, giving each other sheepish looks

"Not to worry, darling~ Watch as your capable husband puts them back to sleep~"

Alastor picks up the monitor and speaks into it softly, his voice usually enough to make the babies fall back asleep

Instead, there's the sharp sound of radio interference and an indignant shriek on the other side, making your husband's ears fold back

"I think I should probably be the one to put them back to bed..."

You give your husband a small pat on the head before kissing him, heading into the nursery for the night

The bed has never felt more lonely

Alastor never thought his own children would turn on him, betrayal truly is a devastating thing

SOMEHOW his children have gotten the idea in their heads that their mother isn't something to SHARE

He has no idea how they learned that

It looks like he'll have to do something he had hoped he would NEVER have to do

Talk about sharing his wife

With his children

But still

So he takes the children for the day, letting you have a day to yourself and kicking you out of the hotel

His twins are obviously a little miffed at him for sending you away, it wasn't a decision that Alastor made lightly

But without the object of their little obsession, then they're back to being his loving little babies

They're snuggling into him when he decides to try and explain why the three of them need to share you

"Now, your mother and I...we need time not only for ourselves but also for each other."

At first, the twins eye him with a dubious expression on their faces, little hands curling into angry fists

"And the three of us, we all love her very much, don't we?"

Then they start to relax and lean on him again, as if accepting their father's words

Things feel calmer when you come back home later that night, your husband and babies all practically glomping on you

Whatever rivalry they had going on before seems to have ended, finally being able to have some affection from your husband without being interrupted

"So...it looks like we're alone~"

"It would seem so, darling~"

He's chuckling and pulling you close, reaching back to lock the door behind him-

"Um? Alastor? There's a bunch of angry guys outside and..."

At least not by your own children

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[fictionplumis]

Listen, I know Dream winning his duel with Lucifer with hope is like... A BIG DEAL and super symbolic and beautiful, HOWEVER I have something that may not be better, but would definitely be FUNNIER. 

Dream loses. He's been locked in a bubble and had his hopes dashed again and again, even though he's still fighting and still hopeful, it's harder for him to reach that and it doesn't come to mind in time for him to win against Lucifer. He's to stay as a servant in Hell and there's no Endless or divine being that can or will come to his aid. He's trapped. Again. 

Only Matthew isn't Jessamy, Matthew knows when the best way to help is a tactical retreat to gather reinforcements. So that's what he does, going immediately to Luciene like, "Hey, so, uh..." And there has to be some way they can help him! Luciene makes it clear that none of the dreaming denizens can. None of the Endless can, no deity would be of any help there against Lucifer. There are Old Laws dictating that Dream lost fair and square and no one can interfere with that. And Matthew's like, "Well what about someone who can challenge Lucifer to win him back? Someone not bound by the Old Laws?" 

"The only beings not bound by the Old Laws are humans. There's no human--" 

Except there is. There's one. One human that Dream would go off once a century to meet, and it's a long shot, but-- 

That's how Hob Gadling finds himself being approached by a talking raven asking him to trek into hell to rescue his boss. "You know, Dream of the Endless? Lord Morpheus?" 

Hob doesn't know who the hell the bird is talking about until Matthew describes him. "Oh, my Stranger!"

"...He seriously didn't even tell you his name?" 

Now, the idea of setting foot into Hell itself to do battle with Lucifer Morningstar is, y'know... Not something he wants to do. He confirms over and over if Matthew is SURE he doesn't have to die to achieve this, because he's not ready to leave yet, and Matthew is like, "Yeah, buddy, shouldn't be a problem." He's lying. He has no idea if it's a problem. (It's not.) 

Hob is like, "Yeah, but... I can't FIGHT Satan himself and expect to win, I AM still human." 

And Matthew's like, "You don't actually have to fight her, it's like a game! But uh... Pretty sure you still feel all the pain and stuff." And he explains the rules, and like, okay, feeling the painful death of whatever kills whatever you decide to be in your round SUCKS, but Hob's been through that before. It's actually a pretty intriguing game, one he thinks he might win. 

See, the way he sees it, it's a combination of the "times infinity" type of game (I love you, I love you more, I love you times two, I love you times a thousand, I love you times a million-- so on and so on) with that counting game where you either say one or two numbers, back and forth with someone, and whoever says 21 loses. Basically, there's one logical conclusion the game is going to reach. Someone is going to bust out the "times infinity" or in this case, "heat death of the universe" or some other completely life-ending thing. And like with the counting game, if you can get your opponent to say specific numbers on the way to 21, you can make sure they're forced to say it. 

There's a strategy if you think ahead enough, and he has an entire walk through Hell to plan it. 

(It SUCKS. He sees Robyn there. It breaks his heart. It's meant to, it's meant to keep him from reaching the palace, seeing his son in Hell, but they don't know Hob. They don't know the grief he's had to overcome in order for him to say, with absolute certainty, that he still wants to live even though it hurts. He reaches that citadel.)

Dream is, of course, horrified to see Hob there. Hob meanwhile is like a jilted exe all, "Yeah, yeah, we're not friends, you stood me up, but I'm still here for you because I'm the bigger person and I fucking care." 

He challenges Lucifer for Dream's helm and their safe passage out of Hell. Lucifer is... Intrigued. She just beat Dream of the Endless, and this human thinks he can beat her when humanity's collective unconsciousness couldn't? His immortality has made him cocky, clearly. So she accepts, and bargains that if Hob loses, he has to give up his immortality. 

There's a good minute where Hob pauses at that and has to really think about whether his arrogant, condescending not-friend is really worth that but yeah, yeah he is. Meanwhile Dream is off to the side. "Don't do this, Hob Gadling. It is not your responsibility to fix my missteps." Basically his version of pleading for Hob to leave and not risk this up until Lucifer is like enough out of you and shuts him up. 

They play. Lucifer starts out with the wolf again, because it's a good starting point to see what direction her opponent plans to take, to get a glimpse into Hob's mindset entering this game. Her plan is, of course, to cause pain enough that Hob will have a hard time thinking, but Hob makes that really fucking hard from the get-go and throws everyone in the room for a loop when his answer is...

"I am the over hunting of the local deer population. Ecosystem destabilizing, predator killing."

Well. Okay. Yeah, sure. Fucking fine. It's hard to kill that painfully. Lucifer manages to come up with, "I am hunting restrictions, nature preserving, ecosystem balancing." 

Hob, by that point, is like, I got this, actually. This might be fun. "I am the expansion of civilization. Forest destroying, hunting law nullifying." 

Matthew, who had been feeling pretty iffy about calling this guy in to help, is no longer questioning that choice. Dream is a little starry-eyed. 

Eventually Hob is the head of the Home Owner's Association. Lucifer is a bear, scrap hunting, person killing. Hob is family, revenge-seeking, bear euthanizing. Lucifer is Pride, argument starter, family destroying. Hob is friendship, blood covenant, thicker than womb water. Lucifer is jealousy, friendship rending, relationship ruining. Hob is personal growth, jealousy ending, apology giving. Lucifer is relapse, progress destroying, confidence killing. Hob is perseverance, step taking, progress rebuilding. On and on until finally Lucifer decides to end this the way she did with Dream and Hob leads her along until it reaches that natural conclusion, the death of all. 

Now there's some temptation there to go with the obvious, since he can't die even if the universe was destroyed. At least he doesn't think so. But he had already decided that it was an obvious choice to go for and he could think of a few clever ways Lucifer might get around that. So instead, Hob goes the far better choice and personal insult of being God, universe creator, life giver. He's very proud of himself when the demons erupt into boos and Lucifer looks about ready to rip his fucking throat out with her teeth. 

The way he sees it, there are two choices for her there, unless she really pulls something unexpected out of her ass. Option one is the whole "what's a god to an atheist" thing in which Hob would have then been a miracle, faith affirming, god-proving. Not much can destroy a miracle. 

But Lucifer, livid and prideful, goes with option two. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, God defying, His Kingdom ripped sunder!" 

And Hob has the absolute glee to grin and go, "I am Hob Gadling, clever, death defying, and triumphant over Lucifer Morningstar."

He and Dream are promptly kicked out of Hell on their asses, Dream's helm is thrown at his head with a force strong enough to break the sound barrier, and the gates are slammed shut behind them. The whole thing is so humiliating that Lucifer has to change their gender and moves to LA to open a nightclub.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #morpheus

[steddiealltheway]

Steve glances down at his watch and looks around at the kids anxiously awaiting Eddie's arrival. He's five minutes late. In any other situation, this wouldn't be a lot, but considering that Eddie makes it a point to be either on time or (most likely) early to anything involving D&D with the party... it's highly concerning.

Steve glances at his watch again just to give himself something to do when Dustin finally bursts out, "Okay! This has to be a prank, right? Like someone has to be in on this."

Steve glances at all the other kids staring blankly at Dustin and finally decides to take matters into his own hands. "I don't think that's what's going on, Henderson, but thanks for the input. You guys stay here, and I'll go check on his place."

"I'm coming with you," Dustin states firmly.

Steve furrows his brows. "No, you're staying because if Eddie gets here and you're gone then that just means more waiting." When Dustin crosses his arms and continues staring, Steve sighs, digs his wallet out of his pocket, and hands Dustin a few bills. "Order a pizza and hang out for a bit or something. Walkie me if he gets here."

Dustin smiles brightly and takes the money immediately rushing off to Mike who is already on the phone calling the pizza place. Steve puts his hands on his hips and asks, "And what do you say?"

"Thanks, Mom," Mike says flatly, raising his eyebrows and looking entirely unimpressed.

"Thank you!" Lucas says as Will smiles and gives him a quiet, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve waits for Dustin who rolls his eyes and says, "Thank you. Now check on Eddie." Steve raises his eyebrows. Dustin sighs, "Please."

"You guys are going to be the death of me," Steve says as he makes his way up the Wheeler's basement steps. He wishes Max and El were there to have his back, but they had taken the chance to have a sleepover while the guys were too distracted to interfere with their girl time. He thinks calling Max to ask her to check on Eddie would also count as interfering.

It's not that Steve minds too much. Really, he rarely gets alone time with Eddie, and it's been a while since he's truly checked up on him. After the bats, Steve often went to his place and helped with wound care since he personally knew what he was going through. But as time went on and their injuries slowly turned into scars, it was harder to find excuses to see Eddie alone.

So, Steve settles for seeing him when the kids invite them both to something, and he's started to even hang around during their D&D sessions, soaking in all of Eddie that he can. He still refuses to play, too afraid of the kids making fun of him for getting confused, but he easily gets lost in the campaigns through Eddie's storytelling.

He thinks it's easy to get lost in anything Eddie's passionate about. It may go right over Steve's head, but he would do just about anything to listen to Eddie ramble - sometimes it might just be an excuse to stare at his lips, but no one (except Robin) needed to know that.

Steve nearly misses his turn while thinking a little too hard about Eddie's lips, but he makes it, turning into the trailer park and parking outside of Eddie's place fairly quickly. He sees Eddie's van in the driveway and takes a deep breath, hoping Eddie just somehow lost track of time or something.

Steve quickly rushes out of the car and knocks on the front door, waiting to hear Eddie's footsteps or grumbling as he makes it to the door.

But silence is the only thing coming from the other side.

Steve knocks harder, hoping the neighbors won't start snooping with all the noise he's making, especially when, a few seconds later, Steve decides he has waited long enough and pulls the door open. He quickly closes it and locks it on instinct as he calls out, "Eddie?"

The living room and kitchen are empty, but Steve doesn't hear the shower running, so he quickly bursts into Eddie's room calling out his name again.

His eyes fall on Eddie lying in bed with the covers tucked all around him, but his pale face is slightly visible through the dark strands of hair covering it. The last time Steve had seen him like this was in the upside down when...

"Eddie!" Steve says, rushing to the side of the bed and brushing the hair out of his face. He cups Eddie's face in his hands and nearly shakes him before he sees his brows twitch as he begins frowning.

"What..." Eddie groans out, eyes squinting open.

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief as he nearly tackles Eddie into a tight hug, ending up nearly on top of him.

"Good morning to you, too," Eddie jokes, squeezing Steve back. "Wait, what time is it?"

Steve pulls back and looks down at him. He runs a hand over his cheek, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, a reminder that he's okay. "It's past five, and it's Friday."

It takes a few moments before a look of realization crosses over Eddie's face, his eyes widening as he curses, "Shit! I couldn't sleep last night, and I decided to take a nap around... three? Maybe?" He shifts back on the bed and starts trying to sit up.

Steve places a hand on his chest and pushes him back down.

"Hello," Eddie says as a blush spreads across his face. "This is fun, but I have a dungeon to master," he jokes, showing off his dimples.

Steve nearly forgets how to breathe for a second, but he finally gets it together enough to say, "You and I both know how hard it is to sleep after everything, so if you're able to sleep now, then you're sleeping."

"I'm fine, re-" Eddie yawns and covers his mouth. "Really."

Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

Eddie sighs and turns on his side to directly face him. "Steve, the kids will kill me if I don't do this session tonight."

"And I'll kill them if they give you shit about it. Does tomorrow night work?"

"I mean, yeah, probably but-"

"Great," Steve interrupts as he stands up and grabs the walkie Eddie keeps on a designated shelf. "Hey, Dustin, this is Steve."

"Is it a code red? Over." Dustin immediately replies on the other side.

"No, everything is fine here. We just need to postpone until tomorrow night if that's fine with everyone."

"There is no postponing D&D!" Dustin screeches.

Steve sighs and replies, "If you complain again I'm giving you no rides or money for a month."

There's a long pause from the other side before there's a response, "Tomorrow works! See you then!" Lucas answers.

Steve looks back at Eddie and gestures toward the walkie. "See?"

Except, Eddie is already beginning to doze off again, head nodding and snapping up every few seconds.

Steve smiles and slowly makes his way back to the bed, gently guiding Eddie back down before tugging up the covers and leaning over to press a gentle kiss against Eddie's forehead. "Goodnight."

As Steve begins to move back, Eddie's hand latches onto his wrist. He stares up at him sleepily and asks, "Stay? You need the sleep, too."

And he's right. He absolutely does need the sleep, and there's no way he's going to turn down the offer from Eddie, but... "Eddie, you're half asleep, you don't know what you're asking."

Eddie looks him in the eye and says, "I know exactly what I'm asking, and if I read the signs wrong then sue me."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest. "Eddie..."

"Let's talk about feelings and everything when we wake up, okay? If you don't want to stay, that's okay. But know that I would want you here no matter what."

Steve looks down at him for a few seconds before he turns to take off his shoes. When he turns back, Eddie is smiling and holding the blanket up.

Steve accepts the invitation and finds himself wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Steve gently runs a hand through Eddie's hair, only stopping when Eddie grabs his hand and presses a gentle kiss against it.

Steve responds by bending down and planting a kiss on Eddie's head. He smiles when Eddie happily hums.

As Steve focuses on Eddie's breathing evening out, he finds himself matching it and slowly starts drifting off, falling asleep easily for the first time in a long time with happy thoughts of what's to come when they finally wake up.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things

[fellthemarvelous]

Do you ever really think about what happened in The Resurrectionists?

Aziraphale spent that entire time trying to save Elspeth's soul from being damned to Hell.

Every questionable choice he made was done so because he was trying to help Elspeth and also trying to find new ways to decrease human suffering.

He was working really fucking hard to do his job, but he made mistakes along the way because he is constantly struggling with the knowledge that the rules become a lot more convoluted as life becomes more complicated.

Digging up bodies is wrong, but Elspeth was poor and acting in desperation to take care of herself and Wee Morag so they wouldn't have to continue living on the streets.

He is the one who encouraged her to dig up another body because he realized that Mister Dalrymple was trying to help teach those learning to become doctors so they could do better to decrease human suffering when it was their turn to help others.

He wasn't able to save Wee Morag after she was shot by a grave gun, and watched in dismay as Elspeth sold her body to Mister Dalrymple so she could get off the streets.

And when that didn't work the way she'd hoped, she decided that her life meant nothing anymore and decided she was better off dead.

Aziraphale had been spending that entire minisode trying to save Elspeth's soul from Hell, but he ultimately realizes that he made things worse even though he was trying so hard to do the right thing.

Heaven didn't care that he failed. Heaven has already said "we're the good guys, we're just not doing anything to stop the bad guys". Aziraphale was doing the job given to him by God. He made a mistake, but he thought he was doing the right thing because he cares about human souls. He still wants to protect humanity from Hell. That's literally his job.

Crowley saw someone digging up a body in the graveyard and immediately realized he didn't need to do anything.

Instead he watches.

He listens to Elspeth and finds it easier to sympathize with her plight because he's in the same boat in many ways. It doesn't matter what he does because he won't be able to climb his way out of Hell.

He listens to Aziraphale and he challenges the angel when he disagrees with some of the things he's saying.

He doesn't interfere with Elspeth or Aziraphale though.

The discussion that he and Aziraphale have with Mister Dalrymple teaches Crowley something just as much as it teaches Aziraphale.

Before he learns the reason that Mister Dalrymple cuts open dead bodies in the first place, he's cheering to the idea of more murder.

That tumor that Aziraphale hugs to his chest is just as much of a learning moment for Crowley. He hadn't considered why someone might have a good reason to cut up dead bodies, but Crowley and Aziraphale both love children and they both just learned that a child died with a tumor inside of him.

Crowley didn't realize anymore than Aziraphale did just how much danger Wee Morag and Elspeth were in from digging up bodies of rich people.

It was when Crowley saw that Elspeth was about to kill herself that he realized he could no longer sit back and do nothing.

As a demon, it should have been easier for Crowley to accept that Hell was winning another soul, but the truth is that the entire time Aziraphale was working so hard to save Elspeth's soul, Crowley was able to act as a spectator because she was already headed down the path towards Hell.

Crowley had just watched Aziraphale work so hard to save this human soul, this soul who had just lost the woman she loved who was wanting to end her own life so she could see Wee Morag again, and he realized he couldn't sit back and watch anymore. He knew Elspeth wouldn't see Wee Morag again if she killed herself because Hell cares just as little about how complicated human life is as Heaven does.

He used Aziraphale's money to bribe Elspeth into being properly good so she could go to Heaven. He saved her knowing that he was offering the win to Heaven just so she could see Wee Morag again.

It's important to remember that neither Heaven nor Hell give a single solitary fuck about humanity or the complications that arise as life becomes more problematic. Humanity exists within all shades of grey.

Heaven does nothing to stop Hell. Hell spends eternity torturing humans and other demons. Neither side is good. Neither side is ideal.

And in the end, Crowley did what he did because Aziraphale was doing the right thing by trying to save Elspeth's soul from eternal torment, something she doesn't deserve because she was simply trying to survive in a system that has always put poor people at a disadvantage. Aziraphale learned this too. He learned that there is no inherent virtue behind poverty.

To shades of grey.

#good omens #good omens meta #the resurrectionists #aziraphale #crowley #elspeth and wee morag #heaven and hell #shades of grey

[after-witch]

Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Title: Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Synopsis: You've made a lot of mistakes in Hell, but this one has to be the worst.

Birthday fic for @absolute-flaming-trash who is absolutely awesome!

word count: 1899ish

notes: yandere, abuse, obsessive behavior, humiliation, I'm joining the 'alastor yanks reader by a chain' club

Hell was full of mistakes, and you figured that yours amounted to a sizable chunk--particularly since meeting Alastor. Of the countless mistakes within that particular bucket, there were at least seven distinct mistakes that led you to this very moment. 

One. It was a mistake to thank Alastor for holding the door open for you, the day you entered some run-down market in search of a book. Your voice had been surprised and sweet and ever-so-thankful.

Two. It was a mistake to let him strike up a conversation with you a few minutes later, and not pay attention to the horrified looks that even the most hardened patrons in the shop gave you.

Three. It was a mistake, later on, to think he was your friend; to believe that the shared meals, the late night discussions about music and books and little topics you’d forgotten you enjoyed, were a sign of pleasant companionship. 

Four. It was a mistake to sell your soul to Alastor, after his honeyed offers of protection from the seedier elements of Hell, his casual assurance that your friendship would go unaltered. 

Five. It was a mistake to move into the Hotel when Alastor asked, and not think there was some ulterior motive behind it all. 

Six. It was a mistake to think Alastor was actually kind, just because he was helping Charlie with her hotel, and seemingly protected those within it. 

Seven. It was a mistake to, on this day, ask Alastor if he would give your soul back, now that you’d decided to aim for heaven. Because you were friends, and he cared about you, and therefore, he should want what’s best for you--which is to get (you pardon yourself the phrase) the hell out of Hell. 

Every one of these seven mistakes--the last, you must admit, being the most significant--led you to here. 

To you, trembling on the floor, the tangy copper of blood in your mouth from where your teeth rattled against the end of your tongue when Alastor’s palpable anger made your knees literally buckle. 

“I… I don’t understand,” you spit out, voice trembling as much as your body. “I thought--I thought you…” The words don’t need to be spoken for Alastor to know them.

I thought you liked me, I thought you were my friend, I thought you would be happy to do it.

“You thought what, exactly, my dear?” 

A low electric current buzzed in the air, making the lights flicker once, twice, and again before he continued.

“That I would simply let you go?” He laughed, but there was nothing pleasant about the sound. It was full of mockery and something else, something metal and cold. 

Your stomach squirmed awfully. It was not a feeling you’d ever experienced around Alastor, despite some other’s trepidation around him. He’d never given you a reason to feel that way.

Until today.

Until you asked Alastor to let your soul go, and the room seemed to fizz with electrical interference that left the lights sparking and 

Your eyes went wide. And your brain, stupid thing that it was, pieced things together that you had been all too naively eager to ignore until now. 

The stories of Alastor’s past that you’d heard in snatches and dismissed as jealous fantasy, probably all deriving from Vox and his ilk. The way people who knew Alastor from before his sabbatical tended to steer as clear of him as possible. 

Or how Alastor always insisted you try the things he liked--clothes he left in your room (even before you told him where you lived, before the Hotel); music he insisted you’d admire more than your current collection of alt-rock CDs; foods that were tastier, he said, than your favorites. 

“I didn’t think--” The words stuck to your mouth until you forced them out. “I didn’t think you’d be mad that I wanted to get better, repent and--and get out of here.”

Alastor, despite his smile, did not look impressed.

You didn’t have time to flinch as he swung his microphone down and out, pressing it against your throat.

“Don’t act surprised now. After all,” The microphone dug into the flesh of your neck, lifting your chin until you were looking at him through blurs of oncoming tears. He continued, voice softer, missing most of its usual radio sound. “You made me like this.” 

You wanted to shake your head, but the microphone kept you only capable of looking up and straight at him. His smile made you sick. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, voice light, but not quite naive anymore; you didn’t fully believe the words now, and your voice wavered. 

Even if you didn’t mean to do anything to draw the attention of the radio demon, that didn’t mean Alastor wasn’t clearly--wasn’t clearly… affected by you. In some way that you didn’t understand; moreover, you didn’t want to understand it. 

What you thought had been a surprising friendship made in the bowels of hell was something else entirely, and you hated the newfound knowledge. 

Whatever it was that Alastor actually felt for you, it was dark and awful, like sprinkles of mold you find underneath the bathroom sink. Damp and rotting and unwanted. 

“You,” he said, pressing the microphone harder into your throat for emphasis, “have been quite the busy bee when it comes to me, my dear.” He sighed in a way you’d heard him do a hundred times before. But now it feels wrong; sticky, oozing. “I’d never given much thought to… certain endeavors before you. And now I find myself distracted.”

His neck turned again, cracking, and a song began to play from somewhere. 

“Distracted?” You asked, feeling sicker and sicker. 

“Oh, yes,” he answered, dragging out the word. “Quite unlike me, if I must admit it. And yet there’s something about you that’s been making me…”

He didn’t finish. The song got louder, mingling in with the ambience of the room. It was almost soft and wistful, except for the lyrics that made your skin feel cold, repeating on a loop.

And you’re mine… mine… mine…

“And you thought…” His voice continued, each word punctuated by an awful radio crackle that made goosebumps blossom up your arms. “That you would get to simply leave me after all I’ve put into you?”

All he’s put into you.

The dresses, the food, the guidance on what to listen to and how to dance; who to talk to and who to avoid. Advice from a friend, you thought. Advice from someone stronger and maybe smarter.

“Well,” he said, almost cheery now, pulling the microphone away from your sore and probably bruising throat. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson and we can avoid this…” A crackle, short and low. “Unpleasantness in the future.”

You should have said that yes, you learned your lesson; yes, you won’t ask again. But you didn’t. Instead you swallowed hard, feeling the ache from where his microphone pressed in, and added an eighth mistake to your list.

“We can avoid it if you release me from my contract--if you give me back my soul.” 

“Well,” he repeated. And this time, his voice was muffled by a brief, shrieking radio frequency. “Perhaps a reminder is in order.”

The reminder came with cold metal choking your throat; a vivid green chain led straight from your imprisoned neck to Alastor’s hand. 

One trembling hand came up to feel the collar. It was real. It was there. And the chain, too, was solid and unbreakable. 

It was a shocking sight. 

You’d seen the chains of other owned souls before. Angel’s, in particular, when you’d accidentally witnessed an argument between him and Valentino. But there had never been a singular thought given to the fact that you, too, must have had chains. Alastor never showed them to you and until now, had never seen fit to remind you about your lack of freedom.

Until today.

Your surprise and fear made you stupid, and you tried to yank yourself away from him; he held fast to the chain and began to wind it around his hand, forcing you to look upwards, speaking all the while.

“You are never to ask me to release your contract again. And you are certainly never to even entertain the silly notion of leaving me, now or in the future. Do you understand?”

An awful, slimy feeling overtook your gut. He owned you, and he had owned you for some time. You just had been closing your eyes to that reality.

A reality that was now choking you.

“Well?”

You nodded. You didn’t think you could speak, not now. Not to him. 

But it wasn’t good enough. He yanked on the chain, choking you. 

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

“Yes.” The word was spoken through gritted teeth. It tasted like tears. 

“Yes what?”  The grin on his smile widened deceptively as he yanked against the chain, jerking your head upward. It hurt inside and out. 

It was so unfair, that your heart could hurt like this, even after you were dead. 

“Yes, sir.”

That should have been the end of it. He should have let go of the chain and let you slink off in fear and shame, off to sob in your bedroom over the sudden turn of events. 

Instead, he leaned down, and for a moment, his eyes glowed in a painful flash. 

“You can do better than that, my dear, can’t you, to the person that owns your very soul?” 

His hand wrapped around the chain, shortening it even further as he leaned in so close you could smell the rot around him. But it didn’t matter that you wanted to pull away from it, because he held you--literally, held the chains that kept you bound to him. Forever. 

Yes, he owned your soul. He owned you.

“Yes, boss?” you murmured, copying what Husker sometimes said; you were unable to look at him anymore as humiliated, hot tears spilled down your cheeks. 

In an instant, the chain was gone, and you fell to the ground with a clumsy thud. Your chin hit the hard floor before you could brace yourself with your hands. 

“Wonderful,” he said, praising, almost cooing. His neck cracked to the side and you imagined his bones shifting in impossible ways to achieve it. “I suppose I should remind you who you belong to when you get out of sorts like this, my dear.” His smile widened. “A healthy reminder now and then is good for the soul!” 

He laughed. Whether he thought it was a joke or not was unclear. 

“Although, I hope I won’t have to remind you too soon. I do so enjoy your company more when you’re not being…” He waved his hand in the air, glancing up at the ceiling for effect. “Stubborn.” His eyes darted to you, accompanied by the faint sound of a radio hum. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you breathed out without hesitation, unable to stop shaking from your position on the floor.

“Good girl,” he said, patting the air above your head. You watched his footsteps until he paused at the threshold of the door. You heard his neck snap as he turned it back around--you didn’t dare look up to see. 

“Don’t forget to tidy up before dinner.  I’ve left a dress in your bedroom that I’m sure will look lovely on you.”

#yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere #alastor x reader #afterwitch writes #/

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #17

(I had this idea when I learned that there are some people who give out their phone numbers for people to give to someone who is harassing them/giving creepy vibes/or just plain not interested.

Btw, if you wanna add a ship between Danny and any of the mentioned captured vigilantes, go right on ahead! If you're not a fan of ships, that's fine too. Later!)

✦

Who You Gonna Call?

After the Anti-Ecto Acts were dismantled and the townwide internet/communications blackout is dismantled, Danny's social media for his alter ego blows up. He won't lie either, he loves the mostly positive attention whereas before he'd only been met with fear and hatred.

It isn't until he makes a post where he jokingly mentions the Fenton patented Anti-Creep Stick™ (yes it actually works on ghosts) that he gets loads of comments on how many wish it would work on human creeps giving unwanted attention (it actually does because it's literally just a baseball bat covered in anti-ghost paint, but meh) or really just have Danny himself scare away the creeps because of the whole "being a ghost" thing. Naturally, this sets off Danny's protection obsession and he decides to do something about it.

With a little help from Technus, Danny learns to manipulate and travel through phone connections and then releases a separate phone number for people to use/give away if they're stuck in an uncomfortable situation.

Here's the funny part tho.

Red Hood somehow uses the number kinda as a joke to, well, sic Phantom on the Joker while him, Nightwing, and Red Robin are tied up for another one of the clown's schemes. It works a little too well though. Turns out the Joker is wanted in the Infinite Realms for continued interference on peaceful relations between said Realms and the Living World, i.e. - terrorism. It's then discovered that Joker is in fact considered liminal by ghost standards and therefore falls under Danny, the Ghost King's, jurisdiction.

So basically, Jason calls Phantom's Anti-Creep number as a joke, Phantom actually shows up via phone connection, and all three of them wind up witnessing firsthand the Joker being dragged into a glowing green, concerningly Pit-like portal, bound in chains + kicking and screaming. Phantom even stops long enough to untie them, shake hands with a shocked Red Hood, thanks him for his help, and then leaves like it never happened.

Now. How the hell are they going to explain this to Batman?

✦

This idea has probably already been thought of before but I haven't seen it. If someone has, please direct me to it. 👀

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny gives out his phone number for people to use when in uncomfortable/dangerous situations #jason decides to see if it actually works and inadvertently gets the Joker jailed for trial in the infinite realms #joker is liminal #that's gonna become a huge problem for him real quick #jason definitely follows all of phantom's social media accounts #danny is ghost king #ghost obsessions #protection and space #dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #prompt

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is The Doctor (Dr Who)

So! I've been on a Dr Who High for a little while now, and I thought this idea up.

Danny, as the apprentice to Clockwork, has the ability to traverse Time, and his can use his own Powers to traverse Space.

(He is not at the same level of Time Manipulation as Clockwork, but he is still very good at it. Less of a Time Master, and more of a Time Lord if you will)

So, after his family dies and he is left alone for his Immortal Life, he gets bored. Taking a Cue from Ellie and her whole Exploration Obsession, while also indulging in his own Space Obsession, Danny decides to explore Space and Time to his heart's content. (Maybe Ellie is his Companion?)

He travels the Universe, visiting different planets, witnessing historical events, and sometimes even Helping wherever he can. He is still a Protector Spirit after all.

He doesn't use his powers much these days, in fact he has mostly locked them away in favor of using his own custom built Inventions to get any task done. He is the son of Mad Scientists after all, and he likes to Own It.

Danny becomes known across the Universe in the same way that the Doctor is. To some he is a Savior, a Healer, a Wiseman. To others he is a Demon, a Trickster, a Warrior.

Danny becomes the Boogeyman of the Universe, so it's no surprise that one day someone tries to contain him, to keep him Locked Up so he can never interfere with the Universe again. To do so, they build a Device named, The Pandorica.

(Yup, I'm using that little thing in this)

Danny is trapped within the Pandorica, mulling over the Irony of being trapped by a Device named after one of his friends, for Eons. He is completely and utterly trapped.

Sealed Away, waiting for the day when someone will set him free.

...

Now imagine this.

The JLA has just confiscated an extremely Old and Extremely Magical Box from an Alien Cult, who were proclaiming that they would use the Pandorica Warrior to fell their greatest foe.

They call in Constantine to explain what it is, and just imagine the Doctors description of the Pandorica Scene coming him him.

"This is the Pandorica, an Ancient Magical Prison designed to hold the worst of all bad guys." Started Constantine.

"Why was it made?" Asked Superman.

"There was a Goblin, or a Trickster. Or a Warrior." Constantine explained as he paced a circle around the Box in front of them, "A nameless, terrible thing. Soaked in the blood of a Billion Galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos."

He took a closer look at the box and Continued. "And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world."

He paused and took a deep breath, "Or at least that's how the Story goes, probably why those cultists wanted it so bad. The greatest Warrior in existence on their side? It would be an instant win button."

"Is it possible to open it?" Asked Batman.

"Easily, anybody can break into a Prison. I just want to know what we'll find first."

Zatanna interrupted, "Won't need to wait long, it's already opening. Layers and Layers of Magical Barriers are dispersing as we speak. That Cult knew what they were doing, it's going to open soon. Very soon."

The Box in front of them shuddered a little, and they tensed. They waited for a few moments to see if it would do anything, but eventually they realized it was probably just a side effect of the barriers falling.

"How soon can we expect it to open?" Asked Batman, still tense.

Constantine replied this time, "From what I can tell, maybe 2 hours at most. So you have that much time to prepare to meet the Universes most feared Individual."

...

Just thought of this while I was binging Dr Who videos on Tiktok and thought, "this would be cool as a dpxdc idea"

Here is the Video that inspired me, give it a watch

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dr Who #Doctor Who #Danny is the Doctor #Ellie is his Companion #Danny is sealed inside of the Pandorica #The Pandorica #At least the irony of the situation is entertaining #Ellie is just waiting for her bro to wake up she they can get going #Like waiting for him to get out of the bathroom #Ellie is the Centurion? #New Headcanon: When a Halfa dies they go through a similar process to Regeneration but they don't have a limit #You can just explain it as their souls going through Reincarnation very rapidly

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 11)

Masterpost

When Jason arrived at the manor to meet Danny it wasn’t him who greeted him but Damian. Jason tensed as he always did when he saw Damian, though now the feeling he got when he saw Damian made more sense to him. He had read the slide show, he knew that the urge to fight Damian wasn’t hatred, and neither was the way Damian lashed out at him… at least probably not. They should spar more, but not right now, he still needed to overcome the urge to fight Damian in the lobby.

“Todd,” Damian greeted.

“Demon-Brat,” Jason said, insults were practically his love language now anyway. 

Damian sniffed disdainfully, but he was shifting from foot to foot. He had something to say and was struggling to figure out how. Jason crossed his arms and dutifully waited for Damian to spit it out. “Danny has warned me about the role that combat has in courtship for his kind, I do not know why on earth he would want you to court him But that is his decision. I will not interfere but understand that he is vulnerable and he is protected. If you hurt him in any way there will be consequences.” 

“I’m not planning to hurt him, but I also don’t even know if we are ‘courting’ yet,” Jason said rolling his eyes. 

“Well then you’re even more of a fool then I thought,” Damian said with a disdainful sniff. “He’s a very powerful being, Zatana says that he will likely grow to be a god, you should be grateful he is willing to let you court him.” 

Jason blinked rapidly, he hadn’t been here for that conversation so that was the first he was hearing of that! It also occurred to him that Damian had a baby-crush on Danny and considered teasing him about it but decided not to. “Huh, good to know,” He said, simply reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair and missing on purpose as he dodged away. “So where is Danny?”

“He’s waiting for you in the dojo upstairs,” Damian said, sounding a little resigned as he gestured upwards. “I hope you made reservations for somewhere worthy.”

“Don’t worry Dami,” Jason snorted, brushing past him to head towards the stairs. “I’ve got it under control.”

Once again as soon as he entered the dojo and saw Danny the violent urges surged but he wasn’t alone and he didn’t swing first. Danny came at him first and Jason rose to meet him. The fight was longer but less desperate this time. It felt like they were getting out their energy and anger without meaning it, and by the end Jason and Danny were both breathing hard and purring again. It really did feel like bonding, they were closer now then they had been at the beginning of the fight, even if they had hardly said a word.

It ended in a stalemate, or, Jason got Danny pinned but it couldn’t have been more obvious that Danny let him. Jason was glad they didn’t have an audience this time so later he could deny that made him blush. Danny gave him a cheeky grin and reached up to pull Jason down, slow enough that Jason was able to scramble away before Danny got hold of him.

He coughed to clear his  throat awkwardly, grabbing one of the towels that sat on a shelf on one side of the dojo, using it to wipe his face and the back of his neck. The fight had been intense enough to make him sweat, though Danny still seemed unbothered, and there were some gym style showers off of the dojo. 

“Well I’m glad I brought a change of clothes!I’m going to have a quick shower and then we can go out for dinner okay?”

“Sounds good, I’ll go change too. Alfred bought me a Ton of new clothes, I really didn’t need that much more. By the way, what sort of place are we going? I mean, should I dress up?” Danny asked a little awkwardly, Running a hand back through his hair to try and push his bangs back.

“I mean, probably a little bit?” Jason said. “If I didn’t take you somewhere nice I think Damian would shank me. It’s cute how protective of you he is,” Jason teased. 

“Alright, so we talking jeans and a button down? Or proper dress pants?” Danny asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Better to go with dress pants. The good ones are pretty comfortable anyway, and Alfred wouldn’t get you bad one. No need for a jacket though, unless you’ll be cold?” 

“I have an ice core, I never get cold,” Danny laughed. Jason was just going to pretend he understood what that meant.

“Alright,” Danny agreed, bouncing to his feet in a way that denied gravity and bouncing out of the room to go get changed.

Jason grinned like an idiot after him before shaking off the feeling and going to have a quick shower and get dressed for their date.

Jason showered and dressed in a red shirt and soft brown pants before meeting up with Danny who was wearing a blue that brought out his eyes and black pants, he looked… very good. Judging by the blush on Danny’s cheeks he thought the same thing about Jason. 

“Have you ridden on a motorbike before?” Jason asked rather than acknowledging any of that.

“Oh! Ya I have, not that often but I know the basics,” Danny assured, following Jason eagerly towards the door. 

“Great, I have an extra helmet for you.”

“Do I have to?” Danny sighed dramatically. “It wouldn’t kill me anyway if I fell off.”

“Yes you have to,” Jason said firmly, his stomach twisting at the idea of Danny getting hurt. “You have to be more careful Danny! I get that we’re all bad about risk taking, and you’re tough, but you don’t have just yourself to worry about anymore!” Jason said, trying not to sound too much like he was scolding Danny. He wasn’t sure it worked because Danny did look pretty chided as he took the helmet. 

“The babies aren’t in my head, the helmet wouldn’t protect them,” He muttered as he put it on. Jason just hummed and rolled his eyes as he put his own on. 

Danny got on the bike behind him and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist, snuggling up against his back even as continued to sulk. “Hold on tight, and the helmets have mics so we can still talk without having to yell. It’s a bit of a drive,” Jason warned. He could have gotten there a lot faster, but not without breaking traffic laws and he was in civvies so a half hour drive it had to be.

Danny hummed and tightened his grip on Jason as he kicked back the stand and revved the bike, peeling out of the driveway in a way he knew would piss off Bruce. It also made Danny yelp and cling tighter though so Jason slowed down a bit once they were out of the driveway. 

Danny was quiet for maybe ten minutes and Jason was starting to worry he’d upset Danny more then he realized and maybe should apologize when he spoke up. “You’re right. When Cass clocked that I was pregnant it was the first time I’d talked to anyone about it besides Vlad. I’m not… Honestly the way I’ve survived most of the shit that’s happened to me was not thinking about the implications. I’m not sure how I’m going to do this. I’m in a way better position now then I was even a week ago but it’s going to be such a big change I’m having a hard time imagining what it's even going to look like.”

Jason hummed, nodding and taking a moment to consider his response. His first instinct was to remind Danny that he didn’t Have to have the babies since it was still early but he knew that the other bats would have already brought it up. If Danny was anything other than fiercely protective and utterly determined to have the babies Bruce and Dick would still be trying to convince him to not be a teen parent and focus on his education. The same way they had tried to convince everyone in the family not to be vigilantes and utterly failed. 

“You’re going to be a good dad Danny, and you’re not going to do this alone. Bruce never got to have any of us as babies, the youngest of us was 12 when he adopted us and I know he’s looking forward to having a baby around. Alfred is too, and Damian and Dick will compete for best uncle. Money is no object, you’ll get everything you and the babies need. It’s still going to be a big change obviously but there’s nothing to be scared of I promise,” Could he make that promise really? Well he just did so he’d better do his best to make sure it was kept. 

“It’s not just that though,” Danny said and hesitated again. Jason stayed quiet to let him organize his thoughts. “My binder is hurting more to wear, my.. Chest aches, I told Bruce I was just incubating ghost cores. And that’s what I’ve been telling Myself too, but I got sick this morning and the babies are clones of me, and I’m half human. What if I actually am pregnant?

“I told Jazz I’d bring up going to a human doctor but then dodged it. I haven’t been in years and I am nervous about going again but it’s more than that. I don’t like my body, I’m too young for hormones or surgery but if my body changes. What if my chest hurts too much and I can’t wear my binder anymore? What if they grow more? They’ve always been small enough to hide before.

“I don’t mind the idea of my stomach growing, or even really being a mom. I’m a man but I do feel like I identify more with maternity than paternity. It’s really just my.. Breasts. God I hate that word. I don’t want them to grow, I don’t want to lactate or breastfeed. I mean, I DO, I actually really do but just the idea is giving my dysphoria at the same time that I really want to do it to bond with the babies.” It was like a dam had broken and Danny’s words came fast and a little loud, breathing hard between bouts of talking. 

“Deep breaths please Danny, take a few deep breaths,” Jason soothed, taking one hand off the handlebars briefly to pat Danny’s hands where they were clasped over his stomach. He was a bit at a loss about this, none of his siblings were trans, he knew trans people but he’d never had to talk anyone through these particular problems. “These are a lot of what ifs to be panicking about. It’s totally your choice, the babies can be bottle fed if the time comes and you’re not up to it. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’ll all be here for you no matter what happens, but you really should go to the doctor Danny. At least then we’ll know what to expect right?”

“Will you come with me to the doctor? I’m a bit scared of human doctors, I’ve heard people talking about experimenting on me so much as Phantom that every time I’m in a lab-like environment now I can’t stop thinking about it,” Danny asked, a pleading edge to his voice.

“Ya, I’ll come with you, and whoever else you want,” Jason promised, because what else could he say? “We’ll make an appointment for you with Dr. Leslie, she sees all of us vigilantes, she sees just about everyone involved in the night life and never Ever talks to the cops or the feds. Trust me no one can get that woman to talk to anyone, she’s safe.”

“Thank you,” Danny murmured, leaning his cheek against Jason’s shoulder. The rest of the ride was a quiet one as Danny recovered and Jason tried not to overthink his lackluster responses. 

-----

Jason parked a block away from the restaurant rather than trusting any concierge with his bike and waited for Danny to get off before he did. He took off his helmet and took Danny’s from him and locked them both in the storage compartment on his bike before leading the way, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets. He was never the most… socially competent. He was better than Tim but he was worse than Dick and Bruce and in moments like this he wished these things came a little easier to him.

Danny was quiet, his hands swinging loosely by his side as he followed, Jason noted the way he kept looking around them. They all did that, looking for threats civilians might not see, it was how you spotted a hero even when they weren’t trying to be spotted. Still there were no problems between the bike and the restaurant and when they got inside Jason softly asked the host to make sure Danny got one of the menus without prices. He was knew to this lifestyle, Jason remembered the first time he’d gone out to a fancy dinner with Wayne the prices had nearly given him a heart attack and he was younger and less set in his ways then Danny.

He didn’t want Danny to worry about the prices, he’d be paying and he was both the son of a millionaire and a crime lord, he could buy the entire fucking place without blinking. The host nodded understanding and ushered both of them to the most private table in the establishment. 

They settled in and ordered drinks, Jason a coke and Danny a signature lemonade before they were left with the menus. Danny gave Jason a suspicious look when he noticed there weren’t any prices but when Jason innocently pretended not to notice Danny huffed and decided not to bring it up. 

“Order whatever you want, appetizer and dessert too,” Jason encouraged, putting on his innocent face again when Danny gave him a Look. 

“Alright,” Danny agreed with a dramatic sigh, he didn’t need to be pushed too hard though, Alfred had mentioned Danny was almost always hungry, wish was why Jason hadn’t chosen one of the fancy places with ridiculously small portions.

Danny took a while to choose, and asked Jason about a few items and words on the menu. Finally he sighed and put his menu down to indicate he was done. It wasn’t long before the waitress returned to take their order for appetizers and main before vanishing again.

“So,” Danny asked leaning against the table and clasping his hands. “You have questions?”

Next

#danny phantom #Danny is pregnant #trans!danny #jason todd #dead on main #tw dysphoria #damian wayne #dc x dp #finally getting help au #unedited #tell me if you find any mistakes #the date ended up being 2 parts #oops

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

OM charicters and how they handle periods

Lucifer

- can and will fuck the shir outta ya if it helps-

- he will also baby you

- I mean- he literally sends the brothers out to gather sweets and other needs

- heated blanket on hand for you

- you can sleep in his bed

- he watches over you as you sleep of you get tired

- none will hurt his little lamb

Mammon

- he panicks

- you're BLEEDING WTFFFF

- especially worried and unprepared if you don't identify as a female

- thinks you're dieing and lucifer wil kill him

- when its explained he does good and gets everything he knows you need

- here, have literally all this expensive chocolate he knows you like

- have all the midol he could find

- have the products you need to survive this- and more♡

Levi

- he probably learned about periods trough anime/an online AFAB friend

- he wont mind if you stay with him, he can clean whatever gets blood on it, you chose to spend time with him, he is hapoy with that :>

- anime and video games to distract you

- you can sleep in his lap as he plays

- you get to share his anime themed snacks

Satan

- for those who get moody during hell, he is here to help

- cat Cafe is the haven for you both-

- he also gets his anger out with you in healthy ways

- you both write out everything, scream out your toughts into the Forrest, and sing along to songs that bring out that anger

- afterwards he will read to you until you fall asleep

- he takes good care of you

Asmo

- feeling extra ✨️horny✨️ he is here to help

- he fucks ya fore a few hours then you both have a nice hot bath, makeovers and stuff

- you get sugar coded fruits with him

- sleep like Royalty and wake up feeling refershed✨️

- literally a phone call away for anything

- period products are in his bathroom too

Beel

- this man has the comfort food

- he will allways share with you and Belphie

- he notices when you come to him more often for sweets and stuff, so he stocks more for you ^^

- om nom nom

- one of the best people to nap with

- he is also a good workout bud to help with the cramps n stuff too

- one of the best boys to go to tbh-

Belphie

- now- of you need sleep- he has ya

- he sees you being tired and d r a g s you to one of his spots, cuddles you, and falls asleep with you

- it's fuckin comfy so ofc you fall asleep too-

- you get only the best dreams by his side

- cuddle, sleep, it's done- he won't stop- help QwQ

Diavolo

- the me is that?

- he didn't know until you bleed trough your clothes sadly

- he helps by haveing teas with you and has barbatos find some thar help with cramping and just to make thibgs more comfortable

- sweets galore (you're allowed to take them home

- you can sit on his lap and cuddle him, he is warm

Barbatos

- he knows when your periods are, its not weird-

- he has products set up in the bathroom near the room you're staying in and the next fee over just in case

- he brings you tea and sweets that help you

- he has a change of clothes for you on the ready along with spare blankets/sheets/pillows

- he can take care of any and i mean ANY of your needs, just ask ^^

Simeon

- he isn't that exposed to them, so he dosent know what to do or if he can interfere

- he decides that he can if you beg him enough or he sees that you're suffering

- finds things that can calm the symptoms and help your body

- gentle massages

- he is a little cold but damn can he take care of you

Luke:

- also has no idea wtf to do

- he learns sweets help and bakes alot for you

- like- they all are get well things or if you like to celebrate it then the sweets are red and pink

- he'll tell off anyone who tries to bother you

Solosus

- he has a potion for that

- you just have to beg

- :>

Thirteen

- hasn't had one, but she likes to help you if you promise to help her on a trap

- or you can be the trap by surprising someone with your moodyness

- she gets the perfect things for you

- a damn good tradeoff

Rapael

- like the other angles VERY confused

- he does help tho

- number 2 for sleep spots, no cuddles tho

- gets you weird foods to try

- about 5/10 could be better

Mephistophlies

- bro dosent know anything about this, why should he?

- when he does learn, he sneaks some sweets into your locker, high quality ofc

- he would give you shit as he gives you some spare clothes

- this man, he finds good shit to help ya

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles

[rocketrhap3000]

the great shirt debate

summary: bucky and reader doing laundry together, pure domestic fluff

a/n: one of my old fics, rewritten for bucky <3

warnings: no use of y/n, beefy!bucky needs his own warning and there is one tiny reference to intimacy but otherwise this is 110% tooth rotting fluff and therefore i am not responsible for your dentist bill ;)

my main masterlist

The pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room had only grown exponentially over the past two weeks. You and Bucky had both been nonstop working, which meant that the household chores got pushed aside. Luckily, the two of you are both relatively clean people, so the worst was really only the laundry, and the accumulation of Alpine’s pristine, white fur all over the floors and couches.

And after a lazy Saturday morning sleeping in (resting up after various intimate reunion activities after almost two weeks of no time together), you and Bucky finally decided to get on with the chores.

He took on the vacuuming - rearranging the furniture so he could get under and behind things -  while you started on the laundry. You emptied the hampers, stripped the beds, and filled up the washing machine for the first load before wandering back to the living room to check in on Bucky. From afar, you’re able to hear the soft whirr of the vacuum cleaner, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that falls upon your eyes when you walk into the living room.

Your six-foot-something super-soldier boyfriend has your pair of rose gold headphones over his ears, completely unbothered by the sound of the vacuum, and wiggling around, lip-syncing and dancing to whatever song is playing in the headphones as he sucks up the white cat hair from the navy shag area rug. He’s sporting a simple blue henley and a baggy pair of grey sweats that somehow still accentuate his bum perfectly, but he’s just so adorable that you can’t help but interfere with his task.

You walk up behind him, then snake your hands around his torso, and he reacts with a small jump, clearly not expecting you. He looks down at you with a loving smile, switches off the vacuum, then pulls his headphones off his ears, letting them rest around his neck, and you can hear that he’s listening to Ella Fitzgerald, ever the old soul.

“Boo,” you hum, softly scratching your fingers over his tummy.

“Gosh, you scared me, Sweets,” he laughs, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to pause the music, then pulls the headphones off his neck and tosses them to the couch.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute,” you giggle, and he turns around in your grasp, leaving the vacuum to stand on it’s own so that he can wrap his arms around you, too.

“Mm, thank you,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to sweetly kiss your forehead. “You’re pretty cute, too.”

You only keep him for a little while longer before you let him finish up his task so you can move onto tackling the mess of papers and random things that had collected on the kitchen island over the past two weeks, causing the sleek wooden countertop to barely be visible.

By the time you finish sorting things out, taking them to their proper spots in the house, and sanitizing the kitchen counter, you make it back into the laundry room to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and put a new load in to be washed.

It’s not long before you’re back with Bucky, watching as he finishes up vacuuming the entryway. Then, the two of you break for lunch together. It’s nothing extravagant at all, but it’s just the simplicity of spending time together again that makes you feel all giddy inside. The two of you take some time to lounge on the couch after lunch, too, just taking in each other’s touch and affection that you’d missed so much.

Eventually, you both reluctantly decide you should get back into finishing up the laundry, since it’s the last thing to check off the list before you’re done with everything. Bucky puts on your Spotify playlist on the tv in the bedroom and the two of you get to work folding and putting away the first load of clothes to replenish your nearly empty closets.

You’ve dumped out the warm, fresh clothes onto the bed and sorted through the pile, each taking your own clothes to fold, but Alpine thinks you’ve made a nice, warm bed for her. Laughing, both you and Bucky shoo her away gently, and she makes her way to her spot on the windowsill, instead. 

It’s generally easy to find and separate your clothes; Bucky has a pretty select wardrobe of flannels, henleys, and earthy tones, so yours are easy to pick out among them. But sometimes, there are discrepancies as to whose clothes are whose.

“Oh, that one’s mine, too, Love,” you speak up, pointing to the navy v-neck on his side of the pile.

“This one?” he asks, placing his hand over one of his henleys.

“No, the blue tee,” you clarify.

“This one?” he asks again, this time picking up the right shirt, and you nod in confirmation. “Sweets, this is not yours,” he laughs.

“Yes it is,” you laugh back. “Hand it to me?”

“Sweets, it’s not yours. I swear I wore it like two days ago,” he tries to reason, but you’re not convinced.

You and Bucky share clothes frequently - well, you steal his clothes frequently - but you know for a fact that that is your shirt, even though you know Bucky would wear it, given the fact that sometimes his style choices consist of skin-tight tee shirts to unknowingly (or knowingly) flaunt his chiseled upper body. You’d never complain though; Bucky’s beefy, muscular form is absolutely perfect to you, and you love to see him comfortable in his own skin.

“I think you have one like it, but this is definitely my shirt. Look at the neckline, silly. Besides, this would’t even fit you, super soldier,” you laugh at him.

“You’d be surprised!” he laughs back.

“Mm, I know some of your shirts are like a second skin and I’m definitely not one to complain,” you tease, and he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But this is one hundred percent my shirt, Bucky.”

“It’s mine, Sweets,” he grabs it from you again with another laugh, then folds over the neckline seam to look inside. “Look at the… tag."

“Mhm,” you cross your arms over your chest pridefully.

“There is no tag,” he deadpans, blush rising up from his neck and settling on his cheeks.

“What an astute observation, Detective Barnes. And why do you think that is?” you tease, taking a step closer to him to poke his taut tummy.

“Because you cut the tags off all your shirts...” he gives his answer, rolling his eyes in defeat.

“Which leaves us with the only conclusion!” you taunt him.

“It’s your shirt,” he sighs, folding the shirt ever so neatly before respectfully setting it down on your side of folded clothes.

“Mm, thank you,” you hum with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his chest. “But if you really wanna borrow it, I’m sure you’d look great in it, Buck,” you tilt your head up to look at him, and his bashful smile makes your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, stop,” he chuckles softly back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

~~~

thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help my blog out so much 💘

Bucky taglist below, link in bio to be added :)

@lharrietg​​​  @enchantedbarnes​​​  @buchanansebba​​​ ​  @verygraphicink​​​​  @writing-for-marvel​​​  @marvelatthetwilight​​​   @jackiehollanderr​​​​  @lets--be-honest​​​​   @writerwrites​​​​ ​​​  @arabescapr​​​​  @real-jane​​​​  @mellyteddybear-blog​​​​ @listenthemoose​​​​ @lhharrysworld​​​​ @mcufossilman​​​​ @danireal17​​​​​​​ @hallecarey1​​​​ @selluequestrian​​​​ @engie115​​​​ @emi11ie​​​ @matchat3a​​​ @sonicisnotsober​​​ @balekanemohafe​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @seitmai​​​ @dracosluvbot​​​ @caplanbuckybarnes​​​ @midgardianminx​​​​ ​ @jesslove23-blog​​​ @dumb-fawkin-bitch​​​ @jessybarnes​​​ @pandaxnienke​​​ ​ @alexxavicry​​  @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @rach2602 @samlworld @nsuiswitch @thearieunhinged​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #avengers #marvel #tfatws #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Hi 👐 I have some ideas for our LDS Boys that could be interesting to see 😁 some headcanons for Boys x reader on vacation for two whole weeks (what destination they choose, how they plan this trip, what would they do, some sfw etc). Another one - Let's say the boys have a friend who has a crush on them and she interferes in their lives and tries to make reader jealous. How will they cope in this situation? Thank you ♥️

HCs: Vacation With Them

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: fluff, established relationships

A/N: thanks for request ♡ i decided to write the first idea, but! later i'm planning to write the second one!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Rafayel

As an artist, Rafayel often travels to other cities for various reasons. Sometimes he's looking for inspiration, sometimes his help is needed somewhere.

But a two-week vacation with you?

Just perfect.

Rafayel will personally handle the preparations for this trip.

He'll probably decide to visit a city with beautiful architecture that will "help inspire him". Like Rome, Florence or Venice. Or any other equally beautiful city in the world.

And have no doubt that he'll pick the best hotel he can find.

Rent a big room with a view on the most picturesque part of the city? Sure.

Especially if this will make you happy.

Will definitely take you to the sightseeing spots and tell you about their historical/architectural value.

Either he's very smart or he researched all this information on the internet before coming here. Just to impress you.

Rafayel likes to visit small cafes that have their own special (ahem, romantic) atmosphere. They don't have to be too fancy.

Loves to take you out late at night. You look magical in the streetlights.

Speaking of which, Rafayel always has his camera close to him. He likes to take pictures of you, being able to capture every special moment when your eyes shine with joy.

At the end of the day, he makes sure to cuddle with you in bed while listening to you talk about what you enjoyed the most that day.

Probably fall asleep at the sound of your voice. But he can't help it, you soothe him very much with your presence. He's not doing it on purpose, so don't feel bad.

On "lazy days" likes to stay in the room with you, no going out for walks or anything. After all, you came here to relax.

Rafayel teases you all the time for different reasons, that's his nature, but in this atmosphere he seems to soften a lot. After all, even here you are his favorite sight.

When you point to something you think is beautiful, he keeps looking solely at you and says, "Yes, beautiful."

And then starts blushing like crazy as soon as he realizes exactly what he just said.

Even on vacation, he continues to make some scetches about your trip.

By the end of your vacation, he'll have a couple of drawings of you in his sketchbook. Like you sitting in front of the window with a glass of wine or reading a brochure while lying in bed.

Xavier

Let's face it, Xavier just needs a vacation.

This poor guy is ready to sleep even while he's standing because sometimes he spends days and nights without proper rest.

So a two-week vacation with you is just what he needs.

And it will be the most relaxing type of vacation.

You will prepare everything for the trip together, consider different options and choose the most suitable one.

It is best to choose a warm place somewhere by the sea. So both of you can relax and let go of all your worries.

Just imagine a hotel with windows that are facing the sea. Falling asleep and waking up to the lulling whisper of the waves. Right thing for a good rest, yeah?

During your vacation, Xavier's favorite thing is waking up next to you in this serene atmosphere.

Xavier loves it when you wake up before him (which is almost every morning) and gently caress his face or his hair.

He doesn't have to rush anywhere and can just enjoy your time alone with each other.

Especially when you look so beautiful in the morning sunlight.

Xavier could spend every day, from morning till night, in your arms. And it would be the real paradise for him.

Hold him, cover every inch of his face with kisses. As long as he doesn't have to put everything aside and rush to fight Wanderers, he's happy.

I think he wouldn't mind visiting cute small cafes either. The ones with a cozy and almost homely atmosphere.

When you're at the beach, splash water at him and get ready for a playful battle until he catches you and pulls you into the water with him.

Usually reserved Xavier will finally allow himself to fool around a bit.

Cherish this moment.

After that, he will 100% help you dry yourself.

Xavier wouldn't mind napping on your lap right on the beach. Even the sun won't bother him. His one and only sunshine is already with him.

He likes to watch sunsets with you. When you rest your head on his shoulder and talk about anything you can think of.

But even more than that, he likes to stargaze with you.

Spread a blanket on the sand and get comfortable next to him. Even if you fall asleep in the process, he can carry you to bed, don't worry.

The cool night breeze from the sea can't make you cold as long as Xavier is by your side. He'll keep you warm.

He likes to buy souvenirs so that even when you return home and get back to work, he can look at them and remember something nice.

Zayne

Zayne is a doctor, and that's the reason why most of the time he works until exhaustion. Even if it seems that he hardly gets tired, this is not so.

He needs rest as much as any other person do.

And a two-week vacation with you will be a breath of fresh air.

It's going to sound cliché, but Zayne wouldn't mind going somewhere a bit more colder.

Vacations aren't always about warm places, right?

A city like Reykjavik would be ideal, the nature of Iceland itself is so beautiful and breathtaking.

How about combining a vacation with hiking in beautiful places? Sounds good.

Even if you insist, Zayne will still do all the preparations by himself. He will select a city, a place to stay and make sure that you take everything you need. Especially warm clothes.

Don’t worry, he won’t force you to travel miles on foot in order to look at pure and untouched nature.

Most of the time, he won't mind walking around the city with you and popping into a couple of shops in search of local sweets.

Zayne is the type of person who puts both your and his hand in the pocket of his coat when you're holding hands. This way your fingers will definitely not freeze. And also he just doesn't want to let go

Sitting in warm and cozy cafes with you while drinking hot chocolate is something he loves the most. Your smile, your reddened from the cold cheeks. Just beautiful.

It's hard for him to show his care verbally, but his actions speak louder than any words, so he doesn't mind hugging you from behind to keep you warm.

Allows you to take as many photos with him as you want. And there's so much love in his eyes as you show him those photos.

He, too, prefers to fully enjoy his vacation and rest, not dazedly run back and forth. And that's understandable.

But that doesn't stop him from waking you up with breakfast in bed every morning. He says it's easier to keep track of your nutrition, but it really melts his heart to see how sleepy and happy you look at that moment.

It's a huge plus if the room you're renting has a fireplace.

In that case, you can spend your evenings warming up next to it while Zane sits behind and holds you in his arms.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder and lets himself relax completely. You don't have to speak at this moment, just gently stroke his scarred hands, hold them, showing your love and care for him.

He will be sure to keep a few photos from your vacation. Always. So that your warm moments together will never be erased from his memory.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

[koolades-world]

happy april fools day!

what would april fools day be like with the them?

Lucifer

he doesn't look like he enjoys it, but he's behind several pranks that nobody else has laid claim to. when you get pranked when you least expect it, that sly smile on his face says it all. when you confront him and ask, he simply replies, "oh? is that today?" cheeky bastard lol

Mammon

he tries really hard, but somehow it never works out. they always backfire on him no matter what he does, especially if they're directed at one of his brothers. but he tries every year. can't help by admire that determination.

Levi

he's not leaving his room for sure today. he's seen the way it goes in his household and he wasn't about to get caught in the crossfire. not again. he might not even let you in if he thinks you don't have a good enough reason

Satan

he takes it seriously, but only when it comes to pranking lucifer. yeah, that's literally it for him. he just wants to be an ass to lucifer and he's happy. he would much prefer to spend his time doing something he deems worth it, but if belphie wants help pranking lucifer and others, he will contribute. do not prank him though. that's a time bomb waiting to go off

Asmo

he thinks it's fun as long as nobody takes it too seriously on him. yeah it's funny when it happens to someone else, but the minute someone messes with his things is the minute it's over. like satan, don't make him mad. that won't be pretty

Beel

he only knows about this holiday thanks to belphie and his love for it. otherwise, he could care less. to him, it's just another day. as long as the prank isn't having to eat solomon's cooking, he's fine. prank his food? he's good he'll eat it anyways lol

Belphie

watch your back today, he’s a menace. if you just plead, he might spare you at the cost of a cuddling session. however, if he forgets to disarm one of his pranks, or forgets to let you know not to touch a certain thing, you can request something in exchange as well

Diavolo

pulls all the cheesy pranks and is overjoyed when they work out it's always so obvious that they're about to happen and where they are based on his reaction, and how he's always conveniently nearby. don't burst his bubble please haha

Barbatos

Not amused with a capital N. it's not an issue until it interferes with his work. he works hard to keep everything tidy and in place, and it really messes with him when someone decides to swap to the salt and sugar (diavolo), but won't say anything since he knows exactly who did it

Simeon

he will join in if someone asks, but he's more than happy to just sit back and watch. he'll get popcorn and relax as mammon yet again fails to prank lucifer. he's another one nobody expects, so if you can't figure out who played that prank on you, look to him, since he's even more unassuming than lucifer

Luke

let's be real, he's probably on the receiving end of most pranks just because everyone loves to poke fun at him thanks to the reaction he gives. however, when he tries to give pranks back, it's almost endearing and most people just let it happen to them even if they see it coming to make him happy

Solomon

he understands this human custom/holiday the best, so his pranks, if they can even be called that, are minor at best. expect something simple and cute, like gifting you chocolates he claims is dark chocolate but it’s actually milk! haha how evilly cute

Mephisto

he doesn’t get it at first, but once he does and sees that dia is invested, he’s too into it. he’s the type to cut all the bristles off your toothbrush and then not understand why you’re mad. do something just as devious back to make him see why what he did was just infuriating

Thirteen

she’s probably the most invested out of everyone! her biggest competition is belphie, so he gets the most pranks his way. however, there’s something hidden around every corner for everyone. not even you’re safe, so say your prayers, or just ask lucifer haha

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me solomon #obey me mephisto #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me! shall we date