#ghostly stalkers

[flamingpudding]

How to human

Nightwing was sure he was being watched. He had been in the hero business long enough to recognize that feeling. The little irk, whisper in the back of your mind and the little hairs standing up. He was being watched. A part of him felt honored. He had gotten a little stalker like Tim had been to Bruce once. So, on some days, he made sure to do some extra flips and air acrobatics. No, he wasn't showing off to watchfull eyes, shut up little wing. But whenever he turned to the direction he felt eyes on him, he found nothing. He was worried that he was getting as paranoid as Bruce, but at the same time, he swore that someone had started watching him during his patrols, especially whenever he was in Gotham.

Red Hood grew more and more frustrated as the days passed. This wasn't his first time dealing with little stalker but usually, the street kids of crime alley knew when and when not to follow him around. The kid that was currently following him? The little shit was reckless af. Red Hood going to bust a drug deal? He felt that freaking kids eyes on him. Getting into a fight that ends with a shot out? That little shit was still there watching instead of leaving. But the kid was good, Hood had to admit that. Whenever he turned to scowl the little shit, they were gone. They avoided him the moment he puts his attention on them. But just the kid wait, he will get them one of these days. He was not having as much fun as his brother with his little stalker.

Spoiler preened at the attention she was getting. She had a little stalker! Not Red, not Orphan, not Signal, not Robin but her! She had a stalker of her own. Like Nightwing and Red Hood! There was a little kid interested in her and following her around during patrols. She probably shouldn't, but she did end up teasing the other about it. It most likely wasn't good either, considering all the things that could happen during their patrols. But aside from that it was an interesting feeling to have a little shadow that somehow can avade you. Just like Nightwing and Red Hood whenever she turned around or tried to actively look for her little stalker there was no one. But she knew the kid was there. Compared to the idiot boys Spoiler had gotten some cookies from Agent A to lure out her little shadow. Saddly the kid had been a no show but they did take the cookies when she had looked away for a moment. And a giggle told her that they liked them. She was at least making process in getting to k ow her stalker.

Danny, Dan and Ellie, after decades of having lived among ghosts in the ghost zone when realizing they didn't age like their human family, ended up spit back out to the mortal realm. (Clockwork had gotten fessed up with the Phantom trio and decided HE needed a vacation from them and Frostbite mentioned sending them to the morals would be good for their halfa health. So the decision was made pretty quickly, let the humans deal withvthe ghost kids for a while. He will force the trenchcoat magican, that liked to poke around too much, to check up on them sometimes.) The problem was, they kind of forgot how to be human. So what did they do? Follow around the one human that caught their attention and learn how to human again from them. To bad that the humans that caught their attention happened to be vigilantes and they only ever seemed to be the most interesting when they dress up at night.

[downbadf0rficppl]

someone's there

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

Repost

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

fin.

buy me a coffee

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

Halloween prompts year 2 day 27

Danny watched on as Nightwing- his literal soulmate- did an amazing backflip off of a roof, spinning several times in the air before landing gracefully on the top of another building. Nightwing was so graceful and in control of himself and his movements. Danny found himself wondering how Nightwing would move as a ghost.

Heck, how would he look as a ghost? Would he have white hair like Phantom or blue hair like Ember? Maybe green hair like Kitty and Youngblood, but Ghostwriters hair was still black as a ghost so maybe he'd be like that?

Shaking his head he moved to get up from where he had been leaning up against an old chimney, Nightwing having long since left. How should he go about this anyway? He can't just go up to a famous vigilante and be like, "Hi I'm your soulmate. Wanna go out with a complete stranger who has no way of proving anything that they're saying?"

And there was the real issue. If Nightwing asked how he had seen his soulmark Danny could just tell the truth: he had seen it in that nasty fight last week where hoards of ninjas had attacked them and tore up Nightwings suit enough to see it from his vantage point.

But if he asked about Dannys soul mark...well that was harder to explain.

His own soulmark used to be on his torso before he died but after he stepped out of the portal it was gone. As in there wasn't a trace of it anywhere. It was one of the reasons he never went anywhere without a shirt anymore because he knew someone would eventually notice its absence.

He could probably explain it as Phantom to make it more believable but he would have to get Nightwing to know Phantom more for him to trust him.

Which lead back to "how do I introduce myself to him without earning an electrified stick to the face?"

After a phone call with Jazz, where she basically gave him the long winded version of "Just be yourself! You were made for eachother after all." He decided that yeah! He can use his ghostly instincts to guide him! Whats the worst that could happen?

Cue Nightwing and the other bats in the batcave a week later, crowded around a table covered in pictures of captured villians and thugs. All of them were the same. All of them showed a subject laying on thier bellys hog tied, and in a cage with the words "horny jail" etched into it.

The only real connection that all of these lowlifes had was them making crude threats, creepy unsolicited advances, catcalling or otherwise being a creep towards Nightwing.

Conclusion: Nighting either has a fanboy following him around getting in over his head or he has a violent stalker staking a claim

Robin disagreed with his siblings. Clearly whoever is doing this is defending Graysons honor and Damian approves.

Danny thinks he's doing a good job in the "showing soulmate that you are capable of protecting him from weirdos" maybe he should get Nightwing an Anti-Creep Stick of his own...

[star-xxx1]

Cervix kisses 18+

Stalker! Pervert! Best friend! Natasha x fem!reader.

Warnings: G!p Natasha, dub-con, Somo, masterbation, a bit of a breeding kink, dom Natasha, praise kink and degradation kink, stalking, pantie stealing, pictures (idk what to call it), groping, mommy kink.

A/n: In order of kinktober, even though I am not doing it I thought I should at least do one, right? Natasha is a lot of things here.

A faint luminescence emanated throughout the void, casting ghostly shadows on the walls and floor. soft, guttural sounds along with heavy panting filled the room. Your name gentle rolling off Natashas tounge as she moved her hand frantically up and down on her thick shaft. The sound of water running and skin slapping echoed in the room, providing a sensual backdrop to Natasha's lewd performance. She continued to watch you through the hidden camera that she had installed In your shower, capturing your evey move.

You hummed to yourself while scrubbing your body with the soapy loofah, having no idea that you were be watched. A pair of your panties were wrapped around Natashas dick as she jerked off to the site of your beautiful body, wishing it were your soft hand instead of hers. You had no clue that they were in the hands of your bestfriend. You thought you had just lost them around the house. Natasha stole them whilst you were sleeping, on one of your many sleepovers you guys enjoyed. She sniffed them before stuffing them into her bag, the smell of your prefect pussy lingering on them causing her strained cock to become even harder.

Her eyes glued to the screen, her hand squeezing her pulsating sex harder. her breathing hitching as she neared climax. she threw her head back into the soft, fluffy pillow with a moan and arched her spine, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wide. Thick ropes of cum squirting out and drenching your panties. Natasha's body shuddered under the force of her orgasm, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she rode out the intense sensation. Finally, she opened them again, focusing on your figure in the shower once more.

"See you soon, pretty girl." She whispered out, throwing your cum soaked panties to the side. She shut the laptop. Standing up to shower herself, getting ready for the sleepover that you both planned today.

Two hands roughly grabbed your waist. It was the only sensation you could feel. The white soft bedding was nothing compared to Natasha's hands on your body. She pulled you into her front as you wrapped your arm around, entangling your legs together. She kissed your rosy cheek, and you smiled. "What did you love most about today?" Your voice came out smooth as slik.

They was so much to pick out of. The time when you needed help getting your bra off, and you exposed your back to Natasha asking her to unclip it. She pulled you down onto her lap abruptly. She wasn't embarrassed that she knew you could feel her hard on, biting her lip to stifle a moan at the pressure, as she aided you. Or when you bent over numerous times to get stuff out of the counters. Or when you need her help to reach something, she grabbed your hips and lifted you, pining you against the marbel counter with her crotch, whilst her hands roamed up dangerous, close to your plush boobs. Or...

There was just so much that Natasha got to go with you today, being able to touch you in places where you wouldn't allow anyone else to. You and Natasha had a very flirty friendship and were so comfortable with each other. You would pee with the door open, get dressed in front of her, share all your secrets, and she would do all the same back to you. Only if you knew that it only fueled her sexual desire to break you into her toy, dominate you, be your only source of comfort. And even in the friendish zone, she controlled you. It was like you were both obsessed with each other, telling each other every detail. The number of times that you had been mistaken as her girlfriend were astronomical because of how lovey you guys were for 'just friends', but you couldn't lie. You definitely had caught feeling for the redhead, maybe even more...

"I don't have a favourite. I love doing everything with you." She whispered into the cold night air. "Aw, that's sweet and kinda cheesy." You joked out. She chuckled and held you closer. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Natty." You nuzzled your head into Natashas chest. Her clothed breasts develop your face whole.

Natasha adored your light snores. She found them adorable. Her hand coming down to caress the smooth swell of your ass, which stuck out of your flimsy sleep shorts. 'I bet you're so nice and tight,' she thought to herself, squeezing the soft flesh. She couldn't help but fanitise about you. Your curves and your shape were perfect in Nat's eyes.

"Natasha." The name came tumbling from your mouth In a moan like manner. She stared at you, wondering if you had woken up and felt her rough hands on your ass. But no, you were still fast asleep. "Dreaming about me, princess?" She whispered into your ear, carefully biting it.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and got up for the bed, making sure not to wake you up. Natasha carefully turned you on okay the back, lifting up your shirt. Your pretty pink nipples are standing tall and proud. "So precious." She cooed. She lovingly kissed your breasts valley.

Natasha started taking pictures of your bare breasts, and you cute buds. Your ass too. She couldn't wait to add this to her collection of your body. She had them on her phone to view at any time, pictures on her wall that she took down when you came over, and in scrapbooks. She just loved you very much.

After taking around 30 pictures, she stopped, getting back into the comfy bed and wrapping her arms around you. She stared at your boobs. Her hard on getting painful. "You look so peaceful when sleeping, princess." Her hands ducking into her boxers, pulling out her thick cock.

"Natasha." Came the name out your plump lips again, your unconscious form shifting a bit. "I know, baby, it will all be okay." She fake pouted. Natasha moved your legs apart, settling in between them. Rubbing your clothed pussy.

"I've been waiting so long for you, baby." Natasha dragged the cotton materiel down your legs. Looking down at your panties, she saw the thick layer of slick. your pussy glistening in the moonlight. "A wet dream, huh?" She teased. She came to hover above you, each hand planted firmly beside your head. She stared at your soft face, kissing your forehead. "This is going to be so good doll."

She smirks as she positions her cock at your dripping entrance. With a gentle push, she slides into your wet pussy, filling you up. She groaned and bit her lip to contain herself. Slowly and gently, she begins to thrust into you, her hands running up and down your sides soothingly as she takes you slowly. her breath warm against your neck as she continues her slow, sensual rhythm. The tip of her cock rubs against your sensitive inner walls, causing tiny jolts of pleasure to run through you. You suddenly jolted awake with a loud moan. Natasha's eyes flashed as she saw you wake up, She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered.

"Baby, you're tight." her meaty shaft sending sharp waves of pleasure shooting through your body. "Fuck yes baby, mommy's cock is deep inside you. You feel so good wrapped around me."

You couldn't stop the moans that spilt out of you as the redhead used you for her pleasure. You tried to wiggle away, but her strong hands firmly held you in place. "Natty!" You gasped out as she slapped your thigh. "You can't fucking run slut" her hand came to cover your mouth, preventing your cries. Salty Tears rolled down your face, not from fear, no pleasure. "You promise to be good?" Her hips came to a halt, you let out a loud muffled whine, as you nodded profusely. Natasha laughed at your pathetic little self. her breath warm against your skin. She let go of your face, her fingers moving to play with your nipples gently as she begins building up the intensity as she goes. Your arms go to wrap around her back, holding her close.

Feeling your arms wrap around her, Natasha leans into the embrace, her body flush against yours. Her thrusts become deeper and harder now, pushing herself fully inside you with each stroke. "That's it, baby. Take mommy's big cock." You moans mixed together like a lustful harmony. "Fuck, you feel so good," Natasha groans out, her hips pushing into yours with more force as she hits deep inside you once again. "Mommy loves you, baby girl." She peppered your forehead with kisses as your mind slowly started to drift off into a land full of pleasure.

"I love you too." You whimper out.

"My little cumdump," She smirks, a calculating bossiness lacing her tone. Her hips begin to grind against yours once more, taking control of their shared rhythm. "You're so fucking sexy when you take my cock like this. You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my babies?" Her cock tip perfectly kissing your cervix sending pleasure through out your body as you clawed at her back. "Mommy!" You cried out, her cock nuzzled perfectly into you. Natasha's nails dig into your hips as she leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue dives into your mouth, exploring and claiming territory as she continues to pound into you. "Letting you best friend fuck you like this? Such a desperate whore." She said looking down at your, with was twisted in pleasure. "Y-your whore." You stutter out. Becoming nothing more but a mindless bitch for the addicting redhead. Natasha chuckles softly as she feels you start to twitch and squirm beneath her, her thrusts becoming more erratic and intense as she nears the edge herself. "That's it, baby. Let mommy watch your pretty face as you cum."

She groans out, her hips bucking wildly as she feels your cum surrounding her cock. Then, with one powerful thrust, she releases herself into you, filling you up with her hot seed as you scream in pleasure. She pants heavily, her body shuddering from the intense orgasm. Her eyes meet yours, filled with satisfaction and love. Natasha smiles softly as she feels your body shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Her hips continue to grind against yours, her cock still buried deep inside you as she rides out her own pleasure. She pulls out of you, leaving your trembling body, your abused cunt sticky with combined fluids. "That was quite the show, baby girl."

"Natasha." You whined out feeling vulnerable after being fucked so harshly by her.

"Shhh." She soothed you.

You felt your pussy gaping, her cum dripping out of you. You whined as you felt your sensitive body begin pulled and up manhandled. She sat you in her lap, your eyes heavily. But before you fell into sweet sleep, you heard your best friends voice. "Can I get a kiss, baby?" You nodded, eyesight hazy. You captured her lips in a sweet, lovingly kiss before falling deep alseep, fucked out. She chuckled and kissed your forehead before lifting up your limp body and taking you to the bathroom. She was going to give you the best aftercare since you were now her perfect princess. Well, you always were.

How do we feel about this? Please give feedback and reblog. I hope you enjoyed <3

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[kettlefire]

The Batfam spent days waiting for Danny's first Tabloid. Each and every member of the family, official or unoffical, has had one made for them.

It was like a initiation at this point. You were finally seen as a part of the Wayne family when a tabloid is made. Especially if it mentions the Wayne name.

Everyone's excitement for it died the moment they read the title. All cheers and celebrations for the newfound member withered away into dust.

"New Wayne Family Friend, Danny Fenton Secretly Ghostly Hero Phantom!?"

It was go time after that. Everyone pulling every idea and possible favor they could cash in, to figure out how to spin this. Spin it in a way that the citizens of Gotham wouldn't give this reporter a second thought.

They hadn't expected for Danny to just lazily glance over it, laugh, and pretend it wasn't a problem. They definitely didn't expect the reason and excuse that the teen gave.

"Wes Weston? Of course, no one's gonna believe him, not with the stalking chargers and restraining orders."

The concern just left them for a moment, because thankfully this can all be brushed away by exposing the reporter's criminal history against Danny.

But then, it all comes flooding back because....

Stalking??

Restraining order???

Danny has a Stalker???

Had or has???

Is this a problem?

Do they need to pay someone a visit?

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Someone's there.

Bucky x Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

AN: This is definitely not what I intended to write when I started but anyway. Have good day my dudes!!!

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

[stinkygirl009]

Thinking about Stalker!Reader

searching on every app for Ghost. At least-that’s what one of his buddies called him. Eventually finding his instagram user and looking through his profile trying to find more about his mysterious looking man she saw at a bar! No posts, 1 following. So of course she looked through his following, due to the lack of information about him on his profile and bio. But soon recognized one of the men he was hanging out with at the bar. Seeing his name was ‘Soap’ from his username. Odd name sure, but better than nothing I guess. Good thing he posted on his story a few minutes ago. This supposed ‘Soap’ was at a different bar this time. Oh and would you look at that? There’s that ghostly figure of the man she saw a few days ago in the background of the photo…Hmm well

Looks like it’s time to go out tonight.

DO NOT USE MY IDEA WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDIT.

[petite-phthora]

Nova... after a supernova

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 7]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

In-chat nicknames:

OGnerd = Jason

BatDad = Bruce

Discowing = Dick

BloodSon = Damian

TheHotOne = Steph

TheCuteOne = Cass

Omnipotent = Babs

Flashlight = Duke

---

Clockwork watches as the scenes unfold from the screen in front of him, a fond smile on his face.

He chuckles at the awkward farewell young Danny leaves one of Gotham’s Knights with.

However, as his gaze turns to one of the other screens, his expression switches from amused fondness to one of contemplation.

As he watches the recently deceased manic clown cackle his head off at the revelation of his newly ghostly existence, Clockwork can do no more than let out a weary sigh.

As much as he would like to interfere so young Danny would not have to deal with this endeavor, alas, he is not allowed.

Regardless, he muses, Danny will be able to handle it quite well on his own. Clockwork has complete confidence in him, as he gazes at the many timelines that may yet come to pass.

It will all work out in the end...

---

After taking some deep breaths to calm himself somewhat, Jason puts his glove back on before getting back on his motorcycle and leaving the apartment building behind.

He should probably use the rest of the night to sleep, as it’s already quite late.

However, not too long after he leaves he starts feeling eyes on him. He's being watched, and he has a pretty good guess of just who it could be...

And that guess is confirmed when he sees the shadows moving across the rooftops.

Of course, they followed the tracker to find out what he's up to even after he told them not to follow

He lets out an irritated sigh as he revs the engine and makes his motorcycle pick up more speed. At this point he’s most likely going way over the speed limit but, it’s Gotham, so no one’s gonna care.

At least they only just found him and started following him, rather than when he was still with Danny. Small mercies…

Though, he notes with mild curiosity, interestingly enough Replacement doesn’t seem to be with them.

Jason decides not to jinx his luck by questioning it, for now. Tim’s probably just overworking himself on a case again while doped up on so much of his awful Red Bull, Monster, and coffee mixture monstrosity that he should’ve had a caffeine overdose by now 3 times over.

Either way, Jason’s so not in the mood for their questions

Jason wants to keep his family as far away from Danny as possible, for as long as he can. And not just because of their not date, but he wants to help Danny keep people off his back about the murder of the Joker.

While, as he has mentioned to Danny before, most people will probably celebrate his death more than anything, he wants to spare Danny from B’s disappointment and his 5 hour long morals speech at the very least.

At that point, Jason decides to try to throw his stalkers off by making some unexpected, sharp turns and using a lot of alleys. He avoids the cameras and makes a point to also disable the cam and tracker the Bats ‘sneakily’ left in his helmet, again.

…

After spelling out ‘Fuck off’ with the tracker’s path on the map.

Luckily for him, Jason has just made it to Crime Alley, which is his turf. He knows his way around better than the furry brigade that's still following him does and he’ll gladly use this to his advantage.

With a small grumble that's muffled due to his helmet, he decides to try another more blunt method to try and dissuade them from following him.

Or, at the very least, distract them so that he has an easier time getting away.

---

0 days without the Joker breaking out of Arkham

OGnerd: Stop stalking me.

BatDad: Don’t text and drive.

OGnerd: It's speech to text. Dumbass.

Discowing: Jason!! 😃 What’s up, Little Wing? 🐦 Sooo, why didn’t you patrol tonight?? 👀

OGnerd: That's none of your business dick wad. Fuck off.

OGnerd: What part of don’t follow me did you not understand.

Discowing: I just wanted to catch up with my little brother!! 😁 Is that too much to ask? 🥺

BloodSon: Todd. Who are you courting?

Discowing: Dami!! 😠 I wanted to ease him into it before bombarding him with questions 😩

TheHotOne: no damian id rite

TheHotOne: we ned a more direct aproch >:)

TheHotOne: so jayyyyyyy, whos ur mystery boo ;)

TheHotOne:  dont worry u can tell m privtely ^-^

TheHotOne: i wnt tell, scuts honor o7

TheCuteOne: scuts

Omnipotent: scuts

Discowing: Scuts

Flashlight: scuts

Flashlight: Wait, you were a scout??

TheHotOne: no <3

OGnerd: I was just following up on a lead on a case I’ve been working on.

OGnerd: Besides, shouldn’t you all be focusing on finding that clown freak instead of stalking me after I explicitly said not to.

Omnipotent: Do you buy flowers for all of your ‘leads’ or are those just for the cute ones? 🤨

Discowing: Oh!!!! 😲 He got them flowers?? 🌼 That’s so cute! 🥰 I didn’t take you for such a romantic, Jay 😉

BloodSon: Considering Todd’s reading material it should not have come as much of a surprise, Richard.

BatDad: Red Hood, what do you know about the disappearance of the Joker?

BatDad: Is the person you were meeting with involved?

OGnerd: Nothing and no. Now leave me alone.

OGnerd: Middle finger emoji.

~ OGnerd changed the name of BatDad to WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl ~

~ OGnerd locked the name of WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl ~

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: Red Hood, this is extremely immature.

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: Change my name back and come to the cave for a meeting, now.

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: That was a misunderstanding and you know it.

---

Jason turns his phone back off and mutes the chat once again. He managed to throw them off of his trail a bit ago and just now reached his apartment.

They know where he lives, yes, but it seems that they had finally noticed how not in the mood he was and decided to make the smart decision to give up and leave him the hell alone. For now at least…

Jason wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up at his apartment tomorrow anyway. But the metal baseball bat by the door and the gun in his holster should help.

After getting inside he changes out of his clothes and takes his time taking a shower. After getting out, drying off,  and putting on something comfortable he practically collapses onto the couch.

His eyes fall onto the faded number sequence still scribbled on his hand. With a small smile on his face, while thinking of the person who wrote it, he takes his phone back out again and makes a new contact.

While he’d love to call it some sappy shit like ‘Danny <3’, he knows his family and it has enough hackers in it that he’d rather make the contact name a bit less obviously stand out.

It takes a while, but after thinking back on Danny’s space rambles earlier that evening in the observatory, Jason settles on a contact name.

He names it Nova, after a supernova.

He doesn’t know how right he is.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

[dumplingsfordays]

sighs of sleep

pairing - gepard x gn!reader (they/them)

genre - fluff

summary - a hallucination of your sleep-deprived brain keeps you awake late at night, so you visit your roommate across the hall to ask to sleep in his room.

cw! - fluff, mentions of stalking (not by gepard or reader), comfort, overly kind/doormat!reader, pining (mostly from gepard), shy!gepard, overthinking!gepard, hugging while sleeping in the same bed, swearing, gepard has a lil crush on reader <3, gepard and reader are roommates

i wrote this entire thing at like 1 in the morning so apologies for any mistakes...

kinda based on a dream of mine where I saw this white face in my window and it freaked be out so ig this is self-indulgence (again lmao)

i love this art so much 😭😭 geppie's so sweet. art credit!!

playlist : after dark (mr kitty), neglect (mr kitty), the beach (instrumental, slowed, and reverb) (the neighbourhood)

As always, thank you for reading :)

++++

It was dark in your room.

Nightfall had come several hours before, but when you leaned back in your chair and looked over at the small icon at the bottom-right of the laptop in front of you, you were surprised to read '2:26 AM' in white lettering. You didn't think that you've been working for so long, and yet, somehow, time passed much quicker than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on pulling an all-nighter - in fact, you initially wanted to watch a movie in your pajamas, maybe with a snack or something to drink, and then go to sleep at what would be considered a reasonable hour for Fridays. And then, after you slept, you would awake feeling perfectly rested, and maybe sleep in for a change. But noooo, apparently that was asking too much, because some annoying coworkers decided to call you last-minute at 1 in the morning to ask you to fill out some documents.

You were kind and helpful, and not wanting to disappoint, you did what they asked of you. Voila! Here you were - finished, emails sent, eyes riddled with exhaustion, hands aching, brain desperately wanting to sleep.

You stood up from your seat with a sigh, and languidly lumbered over to your bed. You didn't bother to put on pajamas when you undressed - you were way too tired for that. As you looked over to the window opposite your bed, however-

You saw something, peeking underneath the half-closed blinds.

In your now-fleeting memory of it, it seemed to be a ghostly, white, featureless face that briefly appeared and disappeared when you looked over to the window, and you were still naked.

Was this a stalker? Some creepy person that magically climbed up to the second-story window to look at your bare form?

Your shivered at the thought, and immediately grabbed the shirt that your were wearing. You shoved it on, pulling down slightly on its hem to help cover your body, and ran towards the blinds to lower them, just in case this face was an actual person and not just a hallucination provided by your sleepless brain.

Even when you lowered the blinds, however, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You didn't have any cameras in your room, and your roommate wasn't the type of person to install them without your request to do so.

You finally decided that you wanted to sleep, and trying your utmost best to forget this event, you crawled into your bed and turned off the lights.

But your stubborn, sleep-deprived brain was a cruel mistress, and to your anguish, kept conjuring up the blank face's image in the darkness. You adjusted your sleeping position over and over, praying to whatever god that would listen to finally grant you rest... to no avail. You remained awake and restless, and when you finally had enough of your brain's shenanigans, you turned on the lights. You hastily tossed on a pair of sleep shorts, and with a sort of fright mixed with vigor, opened the door to the hallway of your shared dorm.

You could still see a faint yellow light underneath the door across from you, and thanking nobody in particular that he was still awake and that you didn't have to wake him, you knocked three times on his door.

Frantic shuffling from inside the room ensued, and you could hear a couple books falling to the floor before your roommate opened the door.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked with obvious concern in his voice. His pale blue tank top stretched a little as he put his hands on his hips. "You scared me."

"I was about to go to bed, and then, when I was changing, I saw a white face in the window, and I tried to ignore it and go to sleep, but then I couldn't because I felt like it was still watching me, and..." you trailed off, and tilted your head downwards. "I'm sorry for ranting, Gepard."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," he smiled gently, eyes half-lidded from a similar lack of sleep. "I think it's just your head making stuff up. If that doesn't reassure you enough to make you fall asleep, well, I don't really know what to say. Sorry."

You looked up at him, meeting his deep blue eyes. "Can I sleep with you tonight, then?"

A pause ensued as Gepard processed what you just said.

"...what?" he squeaked. His cheeks turned a bright red as he gaped at you.

"Wait! No! That's not what I meant, I promise!" you corrected, also turning red. "I meant sleep in the same room. You know, like a sleepover or something, but without the "staying up late" part, because we're already... up late... You know what? Nevermind. I'm sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing, and I'll just sleep on the couch downstairs. I'll bring some blankets and I should be just fine-"

"You can stay if you want to."

You looked over at Gepard (who was still as red as a cherry, and avoiding eye contact), wide-eyed as you took in what he said. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, the couch isn't that comfortable. You'll probably regret sleeping at all if you doze off there, and I don't mind you staying in my room anyways," he reassured. "Can you go grab blankets and stuff from your room? I'll clean up the place because I knocked over some books earlier, so..."

"Oh, um, sure," you blinked. "Thank you." You were sure that he would send you back after what you said.

You ran to your room and grabbed a pillow and blanket, but when you ransacked your drawers and closet for any sort of thick blankets or mat as possible padding between you and the floor, you came out empty-handed. You were nervous to ask Gepard if he had any usable padding material - he had done so much for you already, and you were sure that he was done putting up with your antics...

Rushing back to his room to not make him wait any longer, you stood by the doorframe as you watched him put the last of his toppled books into its place on the bookshelf.

From what you could see, his room was a tad minimalistic. Paintings of snowy sunsets and mountains decorated the white walls, and a multitude of potted plants (some of which were almost withered) were spread throughout his room, peeking from the top of his bookshelf, standing in front of his window, and some larger ones sitting on the floor. His bed was rather large, and it lay at the top right corner of the room, if you assumed that the door was in the middle of the bottom wall. His desk was across from his bed, to the right of the door, and his bookshelf, which stood in the middle of the left wall, housed an array of multicolored spines of books. His window, thankfully, was closed.

"You can come in, you know," he called as he turned his head to you.

"Thank you," you muttered, stepping inside his room. "Where should I put my stuff?"

He walked over to the center of the room, where you were standing awkwardly. He looked over the items in your hands.

"You don't have anything as padding? We have wooden floors."

"Yeah, I know," you said with a sigh. "I don't have anything."

"Neither do I... I mean, I can always sleep on the floor without padding, and-"

"You're not sleeping on the floor. It's your room."

"Yeah, but you can sleep on my bed and actually have a chance of falling asleep," he said.

"But you said that you couldn't fall asleep too," you remarked. "And you're putting up with my bullshit, so you get the bed."

"How about this? We split the bed in half with pillows, and we each get half. Does that work?"

"Oh- sure."

The two of you got to work. Luckily, you both had several pillows at hand, and Gepard's bed was big enough to perform the task, so you had it done in a couple minutes. You covered yourself with your blanket as he turned off the lights, and when you settled in among the darkness, you felt him shifting in his place.

"Goodnight," you heard him whisper.

"'Night," you replied, pulling your blanket further up to your neck.

But a little while later, your blanket stopped helping against the cold of his room. You didn't notice it before, but now, it was getting pretty chilly, and you couldn't help but lean closer to the row of pillows separating you two, subconsciously seeking warmth. Your thoughts were hazy, laced with sleep that was finally washing over you, but that little itch of cold was getting annoying. So you did the only thing that would have the smallest chance of waking him up and still receiving the warmth you needed - you came closer and closer to the pillow wall, until your hands finally felt his broad back through one of the thinner pillows.

To a very-much-still-awake Gepard's surprise, he felt your fingertips press against his back through a pillow. He thought that you were dreaming, that your brain was perceiving the pillows as a stuffed animal that you were "petting", but when your hands snaked around his torso, he realized that he was probably the stuffed animal (at least in your dreams). You were now hugging him.

If he was being honest with himself, he would probably describe his current feelings in one word: conflicting.

On one hand, he wanted to push your arms away. You were dreaming, that's it, and you needed something to hug. You needed to hug a pillow, not him - he wasn't at all like a pillow, he wasn't soft or light, he was, in his mind, a walking stone, hard and cold. He could give no comfort to you.

On another hand (the hand that Gepard deemed more selfish), he was rather comfortable like this. This felt right, for really no particular reason. A voice in the back of his head told him to do the same, to wrap his arms around you and protect you from anything and everything that ailed you. It whispered sweetness into his ear, vowing that you won't remember it when you wake up anyways, that this was his chance to face his feelings and act on them.

Sure, he's had a crush on you ever since you moved in together, but that doesn't excuse hugging you back when you were this close, right? But what would happen if he hugged you back, and you somehow remembered? What if you weren't sleeping at all and this was your way of flirting?

Y/N wasn't flirting, he thought. Definitely not with me. They wouldn't. They probably don't like me anyway.

Oh, but how he wanted to not overthink the situation and just do it already. This was his chance! What if you did like him back? What if you were flirting with him? A hug couldn't really ruin a 6-month-old friendship, could it?

He sighed as quietly as possible. He was going to do it. He was going to hug you, and he was going to roll the dice of Fate. Either you won't care, or you would lean into his arms, or you would push him away when you wake up. You were kind, merciful - would you really kick him out of the apartment because of a hug?

He stiffly turned around to face you, and got a full view of your serene, closed eyes. You were so pretty like this, he almost couldn't bear it.

Steeling himself, he screwed his eyes shut and reached his arms out to your form, wrapping them around your waist, supporting your back with his large hands. To his relief, you didn't show any signs of resistance - instead, you tilted your head closer to his, resting it against his collarbone as you let out a short, low hum.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

You were so warm, so soft, so fucking beautiful to him. He felt an overwhelming sense of immense joy and relief flood his system at your actions and couldn't help but brush away a stray lock of hair from your perfect, ethereal countenance, taking care to not disturb your sleep in any way. Small breaths escaped your oh-so-kissable lips like fleeting whispers of song, tickling his neck and shoulder lightly, and his heart beat faster and faster until it almost hurt from how close you were to him.

He couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

Your own heartbeat slowed as you fully fell asleep, content in his warm embrace, but Gepard's was still racing. He wanted to stay awake for as long as possible, to savor this moment of closeness for what could very well be the last time, but his eyes betrayed him - they were closing all on their own, and the last thing that he remembered before he fell asleep was the way that your chest rose and fell in time with your quiet sighs of sleep.

[bogleech]

31 Days of Bizarre Movie Monsters Wrapup Tumblr Post

Deep Dark: the monster is a sexy hole and not really the villain.

Vanishing on 7th Street: the world is consumed by darkness, literally.

Vivarium: human cuckoo birds still not sure how to take care of the humans.

Tetsuo the Iron Man: repressed homosexuality might give you rocket shoes.

The Babadook: sometimes trauma is a weird guy.

The Autopsy of Jane Doe: when a dead witch is actually neither thing.

The Empty Man: psychic cults, tulpas and a hare-brained human internet. Ties in with a short comic series that provides more essential lore.

Smile: sometimes trauma is where a weird guy lives.

Little Otik: a piece of wood thinks it’s a baby, but doesn’t get it quite right.

Rubber: a tire kills people in a confounding meta-meta narrative.

Honorable Mentions I: some monsters that didn’t make it in.

The Ritual: a fucked up deer thing might be a norse demigod? This wound up the most normal monster in the list and could have probably stood to be a different choice, but I had fun reviewing it.

Galaxy of Terror: please pick up after your children before going extinct. The only movie I included that’s considered “so bad it’s good.”

Eraserhead: he’s just a little guy :(

Amulet: weird bats, a mollusk goddess of revenge and a truly horrific final twist.

Event Horizon: the famous “spa

ceship possessed by hell” movie. She just wants to go home, that’s all.

In the Tall Grass: this time the Stephen King monster IS the midwest. A field of grass warps space/time to torment intruders.

It Follows: about a sexually transmitted stalker.

Honorable Mentions II: more movies that were left out of the main feature.

Malignant: also just a little guy but also kind of a prick. An atmospheric horror film that (intentionally) becomes cheesy horror-action.

Incarnation: a single mom vs. a forgotten goddess in a heartwrenching and creatively immersive found footage film.

Possum: about a man and his terrifying puppet, but neither are the real monster.

Await Further Instructions: a toxic family are prisoners of their television.

Terrified: ghostly encounters that are really something completely different.

The Tingler: doctors hate him! Local man discovers the weird bug that lives in everybody’s vertebrae.

Oculus: mirror hates people, dogs and houseplants, may be most unbeatable antagonist featured.

Fiend Without a Face: the original “tentacled brain” monster movie and more.

1408: rude customer vs. sadistic trickster god hotel room with multiple, equally canon endings.

Pontypool: the most “abstract” monster in the entire feature.

Ring: a weirder horror franchise than most people actually know, and Sadako to begin with is weirder than most people remember.

Ana and Bruno: like I say at the end of the review, it’s a more touching Toy Story meets an even darker Babadook

[darkjimxn]

Chapter 3: Stalker [M]

Summary: “A manwhore and a junkie… it’s a match made in heaven.”

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: High School au, angst

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: 18+, substance use disorder/drug addiction, PTSD, child abuse, sexual content (not explicit), additional warnings might be added as story progresses.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, my motivation has just been so bad because of uni. And now with exams coming up, I can't really promise anything, but after my exams are over I'll definitely be more active!

“God, I want you to absolutely wreck me.”

The bedroom suddenly quieted, its dim lighting beginning to wrap around the walls and furniture of the room to form an uncomfortably suffocating atmosphere. Or maybe Jimin was just projecting his own deteriorating feelings onto the innocent space. He was well aware that his mind shouldn’t have latched onto the words of the innocent woman he currently had pinned to his bed, shouldn’t have started picturing her wishes in his head, yet he couldn’t stop it. He’s never been able to stop it. But that didn’t stop him from trying every time. 

The more he envisioned the actions, the more he could feel those familiar ghostly hands crawl up his spine. His mind grasped at something, anything else to focus on. 

In his desperation, his unsteady gaze dropped to the girl beneath him. She was the epitome of conventionally attractive, with long, light brown hair sprawled around his mattress and dainty facial features. Modelling agencies would probably die for this girl if she gave them a chance. 

But at the moment she was just a distraction. Or at least she had been, until she had opened her mouth. 

The logical part of him tried to remind himself that her words were just that: words. She was just a horny girl expressing her preferences. It made sense, considering what they were about to do. And if anything, Jimin appreciated it when women told him what they wanted. It made his life a lot easier. 

But those particular wishes churned uneasily in his stomach as he felt the hands continue to travel up his spine, finding a cosy spot on his neck. His heartbeat, which had been racing for an entirely different reason, now thumped painfully in his chest as it quickened in pace. 

This can’t be happening right now, he thought with a mixture of frustration and desperation. 

Jimin pushed the impending, but familiar, feeling aside, choosing instead to focus on Emily.

That had clearly been a mistake.

“Like, tie me down. Choke me. Use me like a freaking slut. I swear I haven’t been railed in weeks,” she continued while running her fingers through his hair, completely oblivious to Jimin’s deteriorating state.

The feelings he had shoved aside pounded against his poorly constructed dam, fueled by the implications of Emily’s words. He could feel the ghostly hands press harder against his neck, labouring his breathing in the process. It was a telltale sign of the panic that had become so familiar to him. He knew now that there was no escaping this episode, no matter how hard he tried to steady his breathing and calm his nerves. 

What he needed to do was get out of here. 

“Those are a lot of demands to cover in one morning,” he said with a forced chuckle, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he felt, “give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Before Emily could protest, Jimin slipped off the bed and half stumbled into his bathroom, just barely managing to lock the door.

And just like that, the dam broke. 

Jimin collapsed onto the tiled floor, desperately trying to get some air into his lungs as memories started to flood his mind. They flashed before him like a montage, nightmare after nightmare stealing his ability to breath. At first, he was back in his childhood home, watching his father push his mother down a flight of stairs while screaming at her like a madman. Jimin could feel his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if she was dead. 

But before he could run to her, his memories moved onto the day his father found out his wife had left. Jimin hadn’t even registered the fact that he’d never see his mother again before his father was on him, shouting at him while his hands enclosed around his neck harder. 

Then he was in his old bedroom, watching the bat in his hands crash into his father’s head as he heard a feminine scream. There was blood everywhere, in the room, on his hands. He tried to wipe it off frantically as it burned his skin, but it didn’t matter. The more he wiped off, the more it spread up his arms. 

All he could do was sit helplessly on the floor of the bathroom, head between his knees, as he shook uncontrollably and gasped for air. But the air wouldn’t come. It was like the ghostly hands had finally succeeded in crushing his windpipe and he could no longer fill his lungs. 

Jimin lurched forward suddenly, feeling his heart hammer painfully in his chest. He swore this time was different. 

He swore this time he was going to die. 

His hand slapped desperately against the counter before it made contact with smooth metal. Relieved, his fingers wrapped around it, pulling it upwards until he could hear the faint sounds of water rushing out of the faucet. He tried to aim his attention to the sound of the water spewing out of the tap, listening intently to the way it sputtered out of the circular piece of metal. Then he focused on the water splashing against the smooth marble sink, running against it momentarily before it was swallowed up by the drain. He could hear the water crash against the pipes under his sink as they whisked the water away. 

It took him what felt like hours to really focus on the sound, letting it sooth him as much as it could. Jimin imagined his memories and panic seeping down the drain alongside it, the black plastic pipes guiding them far away from himself and his house. His breathing started getting a little easier with every passing moment as the memories of his father began to seep back into the locked portion of his mind. 

With small pockets of air now able to enter his lungs, Jimin managed to bring his hand down to the floor. He dragged two of his fingers against it in circles, focusing on the cold of the tile seeping into his fingertips and the rough line of grout between them. He inhaled as his finger met one half of the circle, stalling there for a moment, before exhaling as he completed the round. 

When Jimin finally felt himself calm, only the remnants of a few mild tremors left, he let his back drop against the glass side of his walk-in shower with a sigh. A lingering soreness was spreading throughout his chest as he felt his sweat-soaked shirt stick to his back. Although he was more than familiar with episodes like these, he couldn’t help but wonder why this one had been so particularly bad. 

Either way, the “attack” had left him exhausted, to the point that Jimin almost considered skipping school today. It was especially tempting, considering how much Taehyung had been bothering him recently about the therapy and whether it was working. Jimin had to remind him that he had only gone to one session, though he didn’t mention just how much he had hated it. 

But Jimin knew that there were a few concepts he needed to clarify in his first class, so ditching school was out of the question. 

Not to mention, Jimin’s second period had gotten a lot more interesting when the school had decided to transfer him to a different class because of a few scheduling issues. Particularly your presence had intrigued him, because he was so confused as to how he’d never noticed you before. Sure, Jimin had only been attending this school for the past two years, but he still found it hard to believe that the two of you had never crossed paths. He’d have definitely remembered if that were the case. You were, without a doubt, the most attractive woman he’d ever met, there was no way he would have overlooked a face like that.

Jimin stretched forward, just barely managing to close the faucet without having to get up from his position on the floor. You were fun to tease, and definitely something during sex. Jimin didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed sex as much as he had with you. 

His gaze dropped as he remembered the bottle that had been clutched in your hand that night at Taehyung’s house. It had been a shock to him that you were using, even though technically he was well aware he didn’t know you at all. He wondered if your addiction stopped at Adderall, or did you do more than just that? He hoped you didn’t, for your sake. 

Jimin had wanted to say something about it when he had dropped you off, encourage you to choose a different path for yourself. But he couldn’t seem to find the right words. He had used them all up when his father was still alive, none of which were successful of course. So instead he had walked away, guilt nibbling away at him with every step. 

“Jimin?”

Jimin’s head snapped towards the door as Emily’s muffled voice passed through it. He had practically forgotten that she was still there, too wrapped up in his panic and then his thoughts to remember that she’d probably been waiting for him to come back to his bed. He knew he couldn’t do it. She clearly wanted things that he just couldn’t give her. The prospect of having to explain some lousy excuse to her suddenly made him exhausted all over again. 

But thankfully Emily spoke up again before he could reply, “look, my first class starts soon and I can’t miss it. I guess we’ll have to do this another time.” 

He could hear the disappointment in her tone before he listened to the sound of her footsteps as she walked out of his bedroom, followed by the sound of his front door shutting quickly. When he was sure she was gone, he stood from his spot and made his way to his bedroom, picking up his phone to confirm the time. Emily wasn’t wrong, his first class was starting soon. He would have to get going as well. 

Jimin walked back to his bathroom, standing in front of the mirror above the sink. His gaze scanned the damp, rust-coloured hair sticking to his forehead, and then the beads of sweat travelling down his neck. He grimaced. First, he needed a shower.

-

-

-

Jiwoo was in a mood. 

You had begun to suspect as much at the end of your first class, when she had kicked your bag while stomping out of the classroom. Although Jiwoo was always pulling stunts like that, she’d usually accompany it with an irritating taunt or mocking expression. But it wasn’t until right before second period, when she had purposely bumped into the open pencil case on your desk to scatter it all over the floor, when you became certain.

Jiwoo was in a mood. 

You watched her drop into her seat near the front of the class with an angry huff, uncharacteristically not even bothering to spare you a fake “oops.” Normal Jiwoo was far from a saint, but god did annoyed Jiwoo unlock a different type of rage in you. Her irritation made you wonder how her parents’ divorce was going. Probably not great, if her mood today was anything to go on. 

With an annoyed sigh, you slipped off your chair and lowered yourself to the floor to focus on collecting your things, trying to calm your raging heartbeat and shaking hands in the process. You weren’t sure whether it was because of Jiwoo or the Ritalin. This was your third day on Ritalin even though you had vowed to never take the stuff again. You didn’t really have much of a choice. There was still no news on Yoongi, which meant you were still out of Adderall. And although Ritalin made you crazy with nerves, it still somehow managed to help you focus on your schoolwork. Not to mention you’d much rather be a jittery mess than the dead zombie that your Adderall crash had reduced you to.

Unfortunately, until you could get your hands on some Adderall, Ritalin was your only option. 

You shoved the last of your supplies into your pencil case, brows furrowing when you noticed that you were missing your eraser. But one scan of the floor showed no sign of the white rubber. 

You checked under your desk and then your chair, wondering where it could have disappeared to.

It wasn’t until a pair of black dress shoes and grey dress pants appeared in your line of sight when you realised where your eraser had gone. 

“Looking for something?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone, holding out your white eraser between the tips of his index and middle fingers. 

Your gaze reluctantly travelled up to his smug face, the feeling of annoyance a natural response to his presence at this point. 

“Stealing my car wasn’t enough? Now you want my eraser too?”

Jimin’s head tilted for a moment before he rested a hand on your desk and leaned forward so that his next words could only be heard by you. 

“Why would I want anything more when I’ve already got you on your knees for me, kitten?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the tempting view of his sharp jawline, before grabbing your pencil case and pushing yourself off of the ground. Leave it to Jimin to turn every instance into an opportunity to flirt. 

“Weren’t you the one that said I had to ask for sex the next time I wanted it? What happened to that?” You asked with a low voice before taking back your eraser. 

“I never said I couldn’t be tempting.”

Then, to your surprise, Jimin dropped into the empty desk beside yours instead of his usual seat behind you. It took you a second to register the sudden change, and then another to eye him weirdly. 

But before you could ask him what he was doing, Mr. Kim walked into the classroom just as the bell rang. The students rushed to their seats to bring out their textbooks, some of the girls swooning over the alleged new shirt he was wearing. You took your seat quickly, sending Jimin a glare in the process. 

Taehyung hurried into the room just after Mr. Kim, slipping unnoticeably past him before dropping into his usual seat. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment when he noticed Jimin wasn’t sitting next to him, and then they furrowed even further when he realised where he was actually sitting. 

“Come on man, what happened to bros before hoes?” He muttered under his breath. You almost laughed at his sulky expression.

Mr. Kim began writing the lesson on the whiteboard, “please turn to page 245.”

You turned to the page alongside the rest of the class as Jimin did the same, distantly noticing your leg bouncing up and down unconsciously. 

Mr. Kim turned back to the class, beginning the lesson by explaining the concepts on the page he had instructed everyone to turn to. He was one of the better teachers, so you were easily able to understand the seemingly complex concepts.  

That was until Jimin started annoying you, just like he had been doing in class for the past few days. It was always small things, like sneakily drawing random doodles in your notebook when you weren’t looking or stealing your pencil every so often. It took everything in you not to throw your eraser at his face. Instead, you dragged your notebook and supplies to the other side of your desk with a huff.

That just made him laugh, one he had to muffle with his hands so Mr. Kim didn’t call him out. 

The class went on like this, a mixture of evading Jimin’s antics while simultaneously trying to understand the lesson being taught by Mr. Kim. You honestly had to applaud the guy for being able to escape Mr. Kim’s gaze for so long. He was notoriously known for being an observant teacher, and because of that you were sure he knew a lot more student secrets than he let on. 

However, Jimin’s antics had to come to an abrupt end when Mr. Kim placed his whiteboard marker down and faced the class, seemingly finished with teaching the lesson. He called up two students, handing them both stacks of papers to hand out to the rest of the class. 

“Your next assignment will consist of a presentation closely resembling a seminar, where each group will be expected to accurately teach the class on an assigned topic,” he explained, characteristically professional and thoughtful with his words, “since the goal of this assignment will be to facilitate understanding, I will be expecting the incorporation of some creative elements in order to keep the presentation engaging in addition to being informative.”

One of the students that had been handing out the mini booklets finally reached you and Jimin, handing the two of you one each before moving onto Taehyung. 

“The booklets in front of you go over the details pertaining to this assignment. Therefore, I expect you all to read through them thoroughly to avoid losing marks over small mistakes.”

Mr. Kim suddenly smiled, “although, with this being your senior year I doubt you all require such a reminder anyway.”

You watched Jiwoo’s hand shoot into the air as you tried to keep Jimin’s hands off your booklet. Mr. Kim nodded towards her before she spoke, “will we get to choose our own groups?”

“No, I will be assigning the groups, as well as the topics,” he replied, earning him a number of whines and groans. But Mr. Kim merely chuckled, amused, but not willing to change his mind. 

He then turned to the first row of students, grouping them in pairs based on their seating. You groaned inwardly when you realised the pattern he was going by and who, in that case, would end up being your partner. 

“Jimin and Y/N,” Mr. Kim grouped, but then paused when he noticed Taehyung sitting without the deskmate, “and Taehyung.”

“Mr. Kim,” Jiwoo said once again, but this time you rolled your eyes knowing what she was going to bring up, “isn’t it unfair that one group has three students? That will lessen their workload compared to everyone else!”

You noticed Jiwoo send you a mocking smile for a moment, clearly trying to incite you.

Witch. 

“You may rest assured, Ms. Kim. I will ensure everything is as fair as possible,” he reassured with a small smile. But Jiwoo just slid down in her seat, annoyed that her plan to make your life harder had pretty much failed. 

You wished she turned around so you could send her your fakest smile. On one hand was Jiwoo, the most annoying witch in existence, and then on another hand was Jimin, the most annoying jerk in existence. 

What has your life come to?

When the bell finally rang and Mr. Kim dismissed the class, you crumpled one of your rough pieces of paper and threw it at Jimin’s face with a glare. 

It wasn’t much, but boy did it make you feel better. 

“What was that for?” He asked, failing miserably at stifling a laugh. 

“You know what.”

Ignoring Jimin’s amused glance, you packed your bag as your classmates began to chat with each other and started making their way to the cafeteria. You wouldn’t be heading there, though, since you usually spent your breaks in the library studying. It just felt better to get all your work out of the way so you could go home and just sleep for hours. 

You walked out of the classroom, thankful that you could finally get away from the annoying thing known as Park Jimin, and then began walking to the library. The hallways were full of students relaxing and playing around with each other, making you think of Namjoon. He was away on some trip for a maths competition. Or maybe it was for a science competition? Either way, he was off doing his nerd stuff, so you couldn’t invite him to hang out after you finished studying. 

You made it to the library’s front desk, sending a smile to the main librarian who returned it sweetly. 

“Hello, have the study room schedules been made yet?” You asked. 

She answered your question with a nod and, after giving her your name, she began searching the computer for your schedule.  

Since the demand for the very limited number of study rooms in the library was so high, the school had decided to come up with a schedule system for the students that wished to use them, because a first come, first serve approach would be much too “barbaric” for a private school of course. Each student was given a schedule for which study room they were assigned to and when they could use it. 

“Hi, can I get my study schedule please?” A voice asked, “my name is Park Jimin.”

Your gaze snapped to your side, finding Jimin standing right next to you. 

Seriously?

“So you’ve resorted to stalking me now?” You asked, causing Jimin to turn to you with a surprised expression. 

When his gaze fell on you, he grinned. 

“How come I’m the stalker? You could very well be the one stalking me,” he said. 

Before you could reply, the librarian walked back to her desk and handed you and Jimin your printed schedules. The two of you thanked her before walking over to the library’s elevator while looking them over. 

Thankfully, you were scheduled for a study room on Wednesdays during break, so you didn’t have to find somewhere else to study at the moment. 

You eyed Jimin when he followed you into the elevator, watching as he pressed the button to the floor you were also going to. The two of you seemed to be finding yourselves in each other’s presence a lot lately. It made you groan inwardly, knowing that the semester had only just begun.

It was like having a second Jiwoo since you and her were usually thrown together a lot due to your familial ties, but at least Jimin didn’t kick your bag or slap your pencil case to the ground. That earned him at least a few more points in your book.

The book’s name? “The Most Annoying People in Kim Y/N’s Life,” of course.

The elevator door dinged as it revealed the hallway of the second floor. Jimin walked out of it first, unfortunately taking a right into the hallway, which was the same way you were going. 

You followed him reluctantly.

“Who’s following who now, kitten?” He said with a smirk, an eyebrow raised at you. 

You simply huffed, “shut up.”

You didn’t bother to come up with a better comeback. All you had to do was make it to your study room, then you could finally get rid of him. This day had been filled with way too much Jimin, and you were actually looking forward to doing homework in a nice and quiet room over having to deal with his annoying butt. 

Jimin continued through the hallway until he stopped in front of the door to the farthest study room from the elevator. The action made your eyes widen.

“No,” you denied immediately, stomping over to him before grabbing his schedule from his hand, “no way. There’s no way.”

Your mouth fell open as you took in his schedule, almost exactly identical to your own. The only day in which your and Jimin’s schedules didn’t align was Monday. Only one out of the five days of school in a week would you be free of him. No way. There was no way this was possible. Of all the insane things…

While you were distracted, a confused Jimin took your own schedule from your hands, looking over it curiously. It only took him a second to figure out what your issue was, but when he did, he couldn’t help himself. 

Jimin burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Stop laughing, this isn’t funny,” you whined, smacking the paper against his head. That only made him laugh harder as he fell to the floor with a hand clutching his stomach. 

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now,” Jimin managed through his laughter. 

You rolled your eyes, choosing instead to walk past him into the room. Fine, if you were going to be stuck with him, then you were just going to have to ignore his presence completely. It was the only ray of hope in your seemingly continuous misery. 

You dropped into a seat at the large table, spreading your work out as you opened your laptop and began typing furiously against the innocent keys. 

After a few minutes Jimin walked into the room, closing it behind him before he thankfully dropped into a chair away from yours and brought out his own work. You risked a glance upwards, catching a smirk on his lips that made your blood boil. 

Your eyes stayed glued to your screen after that. 

You expected him to annoy you the same way he had during your second period class by stealing your pencils or throwing a paper plane at you, but instead he remained focused on his work for a full half an hour straight. That came as a surprise to you because you honestly hadn’t been expecting him to be very studious. Maybe it was because he had annoyed you during class. Or maybe it was because you had unintentionally believed in the stereotype against guys that slept around. Either way, it was surprising when you managed to get through half an hour worth of work without any disturbances. 

After half an hour, though, Jimin sighed, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms behind him. He’d taken off his blazer, so you could see the defined lines of his muscles stretch under his dress shirt. Your straying gaze quickly shot back to your screen, but not before Jimin had noticed your curious eyes. He smirked. 

You were able to work for a few more minutes before Jimin suddenly leaned forward, eyeing you curiously. 

“So,” he said, causing you to turn your head towards him questionably, “how did your dad end up reacting?”

 You furrowed your eyebrows, “what?”

“After the party, when you came home after midnight. I’m surprised he wasn’t already standing on the porch with a shotgun ready.”

You snorted, unable to imagine your dad doing that, “my dad’s not like that.”

“Oh, so he was cool with it and everything?” He asked. 

You shifted in your seat, “no… I mean, I don’t know. He wasn’t home that night.”

Jimin nodded, “business trip?”

“Kind of. He’s a truck driver,” you explained, a little weirded out by the suddenly normal conversation but still appreciating the unexpected break from your work, “he’s usually only home on weekends. Otherwise he’s out driving across the country.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, “so he leaves you alone during the entire week? And sometimes he doesn’t even come back on the weekends?”

You shrugged, finding it odd how surprised Jimin looked, “yeah? I’m not a kid, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Jimin’s gaze dropped to the table in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. But you noticed a slight scowl in his features. 

Weird. 

You shifted to face Jimin, a question coming to mind, “but why are you only asking about my dad?”

Jimin didn’t look up from the table, “I heard what that girl said about your mom last Friday… I just kind of assumed…”

The room quieted into what felt like an awkward silence. You had the feeling that something you said had cut the surprisingly normal conversation short, but there was nothing you said that could have offended him so you didn’t really understand why that was. 

You turned back to your work, brushing against the touchpad to light up your laptop’s screen once again. After sending one final curious glance at Jimin, you went back to your work. 

But Jimin was clearly lost in thought. 

-

-

-

The first thing Jimin noticed when he walked into the room was Lauren, who was sitting on one of the beige sofas situated next to the glass coffee table. She had been looking down at the binder she had shown him in their last session, reading over something intently before the sound of the door opening had her looking upwards and then smiling. 

“Hello Jimin,” she greeted, to which he gave her a curt nod. 

Thankfully, Lauren had already situated herself on the sofa facing away from the door, allowing Jimin to sit on the one that gave him a view of both the entrance and the window at the same time. Even in his sour mood, he was able to appreciate the gesture. 

He knew Lauren was studying him, taking in his sudden attitude, but to his surprise she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she closed the binder and placed it beside her on the sofa, bringing a much thinner notebook onto her lap in its place.

“Did you complete the Impact Statement worksheet I assigned in the last session?” She asked, to which Jimin nodded. 

He had avoided starting it until the last minute, something he knew Lauren wouldn’t approve of considering she had given him that big speech about avoidance and how it wasn’t helping him. He just couldn’t help it, he’d spent years trying to rid his mind of that night’s memories. Anything that reminded him of it was discarded, any person that reminded him of it was avoided. Even the house had been sold the second it was passed down to him. So doing this Impact Statement? Something that would not only remind him about it, but make him think about it to a deeper extent… it had been hard. 

“Could you read your Impact Statement out loud?”

Jimin’s eyebrows pulled together at the random request, confused as to why that was necessary. He wasn’t in kindergarten anymore, where they would make his class take turns reading various children’s books to each other. 

He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the request. But he couldn’t make a fuss about it. He needed to give this therapy thing a genuine try, especially considering the enormous attack he had this morning. 

Jimin brought out the statement from his school bag, unfolding it slowly. He cleared his throat before finally following along the hastily written words. 

“This traumatic experience happened because I was stupid and did something horrible. I knew that my father wasn’t himself, I knew that he was under the influence, and yet I still ended up murdering him, my own father, like some kind of psychopath. Saying that that makes me a horrible person feels like an understatement, because being a killer is one thing, but being able to kill your family? That must make me even worse than a murderer. I feel like I don’t deserve anything good because of it. If anything, the world should bring me my karma and just end it already. I think that sometimes… that because of what I did, someone is just silently watching me and waiting for the right moment to get back at me. I feel like I’m never safe, like I constantly have to be on guard whenever I’m out. I feel like people should think the same about me too, they shouldn’t trust me either. My past is evidence enough that I might just lose it and hurt someone. I would hate to do that to Taehyung especially, the only person that’s genuinely been there for me. But anyways, the gist of it is that I’m not a good person. I make bad decisions. I feel unsafe all the time, especially when I’m around other men. Sometimes when I’m out I can imagine every grown man that looks my way hates me the same way my dad did, and that they’d go after me the first chance they got. I don’t want to get close to people because I feel like if I build any kind of genuine relationship, I’ll end up hurting them. That’s why I don’t think Taehyung should have a friend like me, that he deserves better. I don’t know how to make things better. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.”

The room fell quiet as Jimin set the paper down on the coffee table, wanting it away from him immediately. He was relieved that he was finally done with this assignment, though he hadn’t noticed how much he had ended up writing despite the limited amount of time he had to complete the worksheet. 

“What did it feel like to write and then read the Impact Statement aloud?” Lauren asked, an expression of complete neutrality. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that she wasn’t disgusted by him. 

Or at least she wasn’t showing it. 

“It was hard,” Jimin admitted, gaze travelling everywhere but her, “honestly I didn’t start the worksheet until just an hour before I came here.”

Lauren surprisingly nodded, “the good thing is that you completed it nonetheless. It is difficult work, Jimin, and you were able to get through it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“But I should remind you that avoidance only helps in maintaining PTSD symptoms, right?”

Jimin nodded. 

“How do you feel after reading the Impact Statement?” She asked. 

“A little less anxious,” Jimin replied, though it was more the fact that he was relieved it was over than anything else. Whether his improved feelings were because the Impact Statement had actually helped or because of the relief he felt from it being over, there was no doubt that he felt better now compared to the anxiety he had been feeling when walking into this room. 

“If doing the assignment in this way made you a little less anxious, then I wonder what it would have been like to have completed the assignment earlier in the week?” Lauren wondered out loud, but she didn’t dwell on it for long. She was clearly keen on changing the topic. 

“Now, earlier it seemed that you might have been upset about something. Could you explain to me why that was?”

“It’s nothing,” Jimin said, shaking his head as he leaned back against the sofa. But he could feel his blood begin to boil once again, his thoughts from earlier apparently the flame. His anger simmered to the surface and, before he knew it, he was blurting everything out. 

“It’s just… I was talking to this classmate of mine earlier today, just a normal conversation, and she told me something about her dad that kind of pissed me off.”

Lauren tilted her head, “can you tell me what she told you that made you so angry?”

Your words from earlier filled his mind once again, bringing the anger along with them. He had been furious throughout the rest of the school day, and all throughout the ride here, with your words and their implications repeating over and over in his head.

Jimin suddenly stood up and walked over to the window, his anger making him want to move around. 

“The thing is, she’s actually this girl I hooked up with at a party last Friday,” he started to explain, not realising that he had begun pacing around, “I’d ended up taking her home that night because she didn’t really seem like she could get there on her own, so I just casually asked her about how her dad had reacted to her getting home so late. She started telling me about how her dad hadn’t been home that night because he’s a truck driver. In fact, she said that he usually wasn’t home at all throughout the week, and sometimes he didn’t even come back on the weekends that he’s supposed to.”

Jimin spun around towards Lauren, who had shifted so that she was still facing him, “can you believe that? What kind of father would leave their kid alone for weeks at a time? And does he even know what his own daughter has been doing in his absence? She uses, you know. I bet he has no clue.”

“But of course he doesn’t,” Jimin scoffed, “just one of the millions of examples of a grown man being absolutely useless and incompetent as a father.”

He turned to look outside once again, trying to focus on anything that could calm down his racing heart. 

“Do you feel that way about your own father?” He heard Lauren ask from behind him. 

“Obviously. He beat my mom, and then he beat me. That didn’t exactly make him father slash husband of the year. Nothing could justify his actions,” Jimin reasoned. 

“Do you feel that your actions that night also can’t be justified?”

He paused, the question catching him off guard. Slowly, Jimin faced Lauren once again, “well yes, I’m not different from him. If anything I’m worse. He beat people. I murdered him.”

Lauren’s gaze bored into him in an almost unnerving way before she spoke, “‘murder.’ That’s a strong word.”

“It’s appropriate in this context.” 

“From what you’ve told me, it seems like you killed your father after he had begun to hurt your girlfriend-”

“Ex,” Jimin said, his gaze not meeting hers, “ex girlfriend.”

“Ex girlfriend,” Lauren corrected, “your actions occurred in a very specific place and time, and under certain circumstances.”

“Yeah, but he still died. And I’m the one that killed him.”

“Yes, he died, and it seems, at least in part, because of your actions. Does that make you a murderer?”

“Yes,” Jimin answered straight away, not comprehending what was so hard to understand, “I took a bat to his head, and then he died. That’s murder. And that’s worse than anything he had ever done to me.”

“Really? You think it’s worse?” Lauren asked, her voice suddenly quieter. For the first time since these sessions started, Jimin thought he might have caught a little sadness in her expression. But the moment he caught it the expression disappeared, tucked back under that blanket of neutrality that he had become so used to. Distantly, he wondered if he had imagined it or not. 

“On one hand, people were hurt. On the other hand, someone was killed. Obviously both situations aren’t good since people were hurt either way. But I killed him, he didn’t kill anyone.”

“It is true that the outcomes are different,” Lauren agreed, “but it’s the context that I wonder about.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“Do you think what the intention was in those situations matters, regardless of the outcome?”

“No,” Jimin replied firmly, pulling back on the frustration in his tone,“in one case someone was killed. In another, no one was killed.”

Lauren paused for a moment, seemingly studying him with her characteristically neutral expression. When nothing was said for a few seconds, she clasped her fingers together before resting them over her lap professionally, “while it is true that your father died, and that your actions played a role in it, I think we might slightly disagree on the definition of the term ‘murder.’ It is apparent that his death has been a very difficult thing for you to accept, and that you are trying to make sense of that. From what you’ve told me, the sense that you appear to have made of his death is that you are a ‘murderer.’ I believe this is a good example of one of the stuck points that seem to have prevented you from recovering from this traumatic event. We’ll definitely be spending more time together on understanding your part in his death.”

Lauren then began to explain something about how important it was to be able to identify and label his emotions and thoughts, but Jimin’s thoughts were too stuck on her earlier words to pay any attention. He wondered about how intentions might or might not matter in the context of whether a death is considered a murder or not. When a person participates in an action that ends up with another person dead, he was pretty sure that classified the situation as a murder. He couldn’t really understand where the nuances existed in a situation like this. 

But then again, Lauren’s suggestion hadn’t been too crazy of a thought either. If a person didn’t intend to kill the other, then would it still be considered a murder?

Had he intended to kill his father that night? Jimin wanted to say no and deny such a thing, because he really hadn’t wanted to do that. But he had taken a wooden baseball bat straight to his father’s skull, what other outcome had Jimin been expecting? Maybe intention did matter in general, but in Jimin’s case he concluded it made no difference. 

“How do you feel about the death of your father?” Lauren asked randomly, catching Jimin’s straying attention. He had no clue what the context behind the question was since his thoughts had been elsewhere while she had been explaining it, which had caught him off guard.

“Um,” Jimin paused, having to think about it for a moment, “I know he did horrible things to me, like I’m aware his actions were wrong, but… a part of me felt a little saddened by his death. Maybe not because of losing him as a person, but losing him meant that I had lost the last of my family. It does make me feel sad when I think about it.”

Lauren nodded encouragingly, “and that is a completely natural reaction to have when you feel that you’ve lost something. It’s good to feel that sadness and let it run its course.”

Jimin let a breathy chuckle escape his lips, though there was no humour behind it, “feeling sad isn’t exactly something I enjoy- actually I prefer to avoid feeling anything at all. It’s just easier that way.”

Lauren crossed her leg over the other, continuing to focus on Jimin as she brought her clasped hand over her lap once again, “have you ever allowed yourself to feel sad?”

He shook his head, explaining that he’s always preferred avoiding anything and everything that had to do with intense feelings like that. Even the frustration he had shown earlier was a generally rare occurrence. 

“Then if you’ve never allowed yourself to feel your emotions, how do you know that it would be easier not to feel them?”

Jimin was silent, processing the logic behind her words once again. He was starting to realise that therapy was a lot more logical than what he had initially thought.

“From what you’ve told me, avoiding your feelings hasn’t helped you very much so far. Maybe allowing yourself to feel the natural feelings associated with the traumatic event may help you recover from what happened?”

“Maybe…” He relented, knowing that her reasoning made sense to him. 

But Jimin still couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of feeling his emotions. He didn’t even know if he’d ever truly felt them before. With a father that had been beating him for as long as he could remember, it really had just become easier to numb himself to the pain. He was scared of revisiting that pain, he realised. The pain that he’d been trying to run away from his whole life.

Lauren opened her binder to bring out a few sheets that were similar to the Impact Statement worksheet she had given him in their last session, except they clearly had a different purpose. She called them “A-B-C” Sheets, which again reminded Jimin of kindergarten, and explained how to go about completing them properly. She also explained how they were meant to help him begin to identify the things he was telling himself and his subsequent emotions before they had exchanged pleasantries and Jimin had walked out of the room.

Unlike the last session, where he had rushed through the door at light speed, Jimin took his time walking through the hallways and out of the building. This time his mind was filled with questions of murder and intention. He thought about feeling his feelings, and how long it had been since he had lost the ability to do so. He thought about you and your dad. He thought about everything.  

There was just so much to think about. 

So much to think about indeed.  

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost! Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!!! I'm busy with school and assignments and looking for a summer job and starting my final thesis, but I write when I have time and energy to do so😊

Let's ignore the fact that I posted this a few hours ago, but deleted it because I came up with something that I really wanted to change so I'm posting it again now

Content warning: Talk of possible stalking and breaking in (not really what's happening, but it's mentioned?), mention of blood.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“Come on, what else could it be?”

“I’m not being haunted, Donna,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose between two fingers. You glance around the small café, fairly empty of other patrons at this time of the day. The two of you sit next to the large windows, watching as people walk and drive by. It’s a weekday, middle of the day, so most people are likely still at school or work.

Donna is an old family friend. Used to be your neighbour when you were a kid and would often babysit you if your parents couldn’t find another babysitter. The two of you grew close until she got married and moved to the states briefly, before returning with her wife. It’s rare the two of you get time to see each other, but it’s always nice when you do.

You swear she hasn’t changed a bit since you were a kid. She’s in her early 50s, you’d guess, and still just as full of energy as she was all those years ago. Her wife is a bit of a mystery to you, but you know she travels a lot for work.

And that Donna loves her more than anything.

“What else could it be?” Donna repeats for the hundredth time. “You’re being followed by something; we both know it,” she insists. Donna has always been fairly enthusiastic, or at least interested in, the afterlife and ghosts and whatnot. You, not so much. Sure, it is intriguing, what happens after death and all the different views on the subject, if ghosts and spirits exist. Intriguing, but not very believable in your mind.

“You know, there was that terrorist attack in that tunnel a few months ago. A lot of people died there, I heard there was a soldier that passed, too,” she continues, her tone more serious now.

Donna always seems to know things. Sure, the attack, its casualties, have been public knowledge, at least some part of it. But Donna always seems to have more information than even the news do. You always joke she must have someone on the inside of all these things. “Something like that,” she’d respond.

You told her about everything as a joke, to try and ease your own nerves. She ended up taking it way more seriously than you would have anticipated. Maybe you should have predicted that, in hindsight, but at least she doesn’t seem to think you’ve lost your mind.

And sure, you promised yourself you wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, that you’d just go on with your merry life and ignore it, assume it’s a figment of your imagination. But you trust Donna, you wouldn’t be surprised if she knows you better than your parents do. Probably better than you do, if you’re being honest. And things really are getting out of hand with your ghostly friend. Roommate, squatter, stalker, whatever. You’re not sure what to call him, but it’s all too real to really keep ignoring it.

He’s in your goddamn home, your sanctuary, your safe space. Where you haven’t yet allowed even some of your friends to visit, you’re not sure if your coworkers even really know where you live. And this- this thing has invaded it, made himself right at home. Begging, yelling at him to leave you alone, to leave your home at once. The train station and the bookstore were manageable, at least. This? No. No way. This is your home, your apartment. It’s yours! You live alone and you quite like that, thank you very much.

You swear you see the shadow shake and shift, as if trying to hold in his laughter. He does seem to give you more space after that, though; instead of standing right next to or behind you, he stands in doorways, corners of rooms. That’s something, you guess.

And that’s the other thing. He’s so human, you often mistake him for an actual person standing in the corner of your room. It’s like having an extra clingy roommate, following you around the apartment. At least you can shower and change your clothes in peace. (That’s what you think. He’s not snooping or being creepy, of course not! He’s just lonely, needs the comfort of being with someone.)

It’s almost freaky how used to it you’ve gotten. It has been, what, a few months? You know by now that he, whoever he is, isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

The shadow in the corner of your eye no longer freaks you out nearly as much. You still don’t know who he is, or was, why he’s here and with you of all people, but you accept it. Not that you’d have a choice in the matter, anyway.

You watch movies with him. You see him next to you on your couch, almost feel his weight on the cushions, as if sitting next to a real, living person. Somehow, you can just tell when you’ve picked something he likes. The air around you feels different, more relaxed. He looks like he’s leaning forward in his seat, sitting on the edge of the couch when the movie gets exciting or interesting. You hear him laugh, not even the airy sound it was before, but an almost proper one.

He audibly groans if you pick something he doesn’t like. Might even throw a pillow on the floor or keeps turning the tv off. You’ll either scold him and keep attempting to turn it back on until he gets bored and gives up, or you’ll give up first and put on something he might like more. Problem is, you’re both stubborn beings, and might “argue” over the movie for a long time.

During horror movies you find yourself leaning towards him, looking for that feeling of safety he provides. It always takes you a moment to realize you can’t curl into his side, with his arm around you, like you would if he was physically there.

As more time goes by, you see more of him. He becomes more refined, quite literally. Going from a shadow in the corner of your eye, disappearing the moment you try to look at it, to what you’re sure is a human man. You can’t exactly see the details of his features, his face, but there are some things that are certain.

He's tall. Taller than you, at least. Muscular, too, by the looks of it, and wearing some sort of gear. Military, maybe? Donna did mention hearing of some soldier who died in those tunnels some months ago. Or maybe you’re being haunted by some terrorist who has taken a liking to you. You sincerely hope it’s the first one, though.

And then there’s the very obvious gunshot wound to his temple, oozing blood down the side of his face and neck. It drips down his chin and vanishes before hitting the floor. It’s more visible in darkness, or in the light of the moon and stars. You do your best to ignore it, there’ll be time to ask about it later. Surely not a subject he’d be very open to discuss or reminisce over.

At some point, it starts to feel nice to have some company over, even if it means you get little to no privacy. His presence makes you feel safer, in a way. You’re not sure if he could do much if someone was to break into your apartment or harass you at work or while running errands, or if he even would do anything to help you, but it still feels almost like having a guard dog. A dog that no one else can even see, unless he wants to be seen.

That’s what you think, at least. You see him because he wants you to. There’s not much concrete evidence of how ghosts really work, so you’re mostly going on what you’ve read about the subject and different cultures, and your own gut instinct.

You know your ghost can talk, too. A little bit, at least, not quite full sentences. You’ve heard what you swear was a laugh, a groan, mumbled words. He’s getting stronger, and you’re certain he will answer your questions, eventually. You’ll be patient.

One evening, you ask for his name while getting ready for bed in the bathroom. You see his hulking figure behind you in the mirror, dark shadow almost looking like he’s leaning against the wall. Not that you were expecting any response, but it’s still disappointing to not get one. The bar of soap at your sink gets tossed to the floor. “It was just a question, you know. No need to start throwing stuff around if you don’t want to answer,” you mumble as you pick it up. It’s back on the floor as soon as you turn your back to toss your clothes in the laundry basket.

You wake up feeling cold that night. Glancing at the clock, it’s barely past midnight. You close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep; having an early morning tomorrow, you want to at least try to get a proper night of sleep.

Something’s wrong, though. It takes you a while to realize what exactly that is. It’s cold, unusually so even under your thick duvet. A weight behind you in bed as you lie on her side. An arm around your waist, weighing you down. Someone’s cold, hard chest pressed against your back.

This is a dream. A fucking nightmare. It must be.

Feeling the weight shift behind you, a cold breath of air at the back of your neck, wakes you up rather quickly. The panic settles in slow, creeping up as you process the situation, eyes wide open.

You squeeze your eyes shut, considering your options. You could tear that arm off you and make a run for it. Scream as you go, get the attention of your neighbours; the middle-aged lady whose name you haven’t bothered to learn, who is always so quick to blame you for any and every sound she hears. Or you could just go back to sleep, ignore your problems until the morning, or until the person behind you decides to do something. Just- just ignore it until then.

Or you could turn around and see who it is.

What if they’re not even asleep? Watching, waiting for you to react?

You try to rationalize it, you always do. Always have a plan, always prepared for anything.

Not this, though.

How the hell could anyone ever be prepared for waking up to something like this?

You try to move, to slide out of bed, moving so slow the person behind you wouldn’t notice if they’re truly asleep. Their grip only tightens around your waist, stilling your movement. You hold your breath.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!

What’s a person supposed to do here, in a situation like this? You’ve heard enough horror stories – stories from real life, real people, not mere fiction – about how these things usually end. A woman living alone, someone forcing entry to their home after weeks, or even months of stalking them, getting to know their schedule, their workplace, their life. Every option, every possible action you could take has its risks, and your mind in running a million miles per hour.

You decide to turn, the pure fear getting to you. Fear of simply not knowing who this person is, why or how they’re here, in your home. In your bed.

You turn, moving slowly and carefully again, to face whoever is in the bed with you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear and anxiety or what or who you’ll see terrifying you to your very core.

There’s nothing there. In the dark room, you only see the moonlight peeking through the blinds, not doing much to light your room.

There’s nothing there.

Your eyes close and you take a deep breath, telling yourself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. You have been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting you in different ways.

You promptly choose to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside you.

You don’t even notice the now familiar eyes watching you from the corner of your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷

Also, I've been very busy and stressed recently, mostly with uni and assignments and starting my final thesis. I've found writing this to be sort of relaxing, like a way to get my mind off of things when it gets too much and my brain turns to mush. :)

[steddie-thirst]

You Can Run | Mean!Steddie x Henderson!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: Steve and Eddie can agree on one thing an that's you. Things heat up when they decide to work together in achieving their goal.

Warnings: stalking, killing, 18+, ghostface, micheal, kidnapping, explicit themes, steddie being a good duo, ghostface calls, Stalker!eddie, Mean!Steve

(( Update note: Because I no longer like writing Y/N for the name thing, I have decided to name my reader Belle, but this still an x reader, but the name Belle is used in place.))

After the rather odd phone call and a quick breath of fresh air it was time for bed. That was enough excitement for one day, already finding school tiring enough. Adding creepy stalkers to the list was not helping. However, when you reached the first step the phone rang once more. Darn - You turned on your heels and pad back into the kitchen snatching the device off its stand. "Hello? Henderson, residence."

"Well, Hello -- Again." Same cadence, still altered, and much more excited than last time, judging by the small hitch in his breath.

You decide to play along into the mystery caller's game, tilting your head as you keep up with the sweet tone. "Ooh , so you do remember me." You coo into the receiver voice thick like honey.

He chuckles, "Mhm." His voice hums. "Couldn't forget a pretty voice like yours." Enjoying the way it left a surge of chills down your spine.

"You remember all the girls you talk to, huh?" Questioning him earns another breathy laugh, making you bite your bottom lip. He surely knew how to work a girl - Goodness.

"No, just the ones I plan on asking out." The stranger replied and you giggled. "What? You don't let guys ask you out?"

"Not recently. Have had my eye on this one guy though." Shamefully admitting your deepest and darkest secrets seemed harmless. He didn't know you or you him. So what was the danger? A little honest flirting and some sweet words wouldn't be that much of a bother.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, but he's not so into me I think." He clicks his tongue and you sigh with a slump of your shoulders.

"Wanna tell me his name, sweetheart?" He urges, practically on the edge of his seat, awaiting your answer. Maybe things would take a turn for the better.

"Eddie. He's just such a nice guy and -- and he's helped my brother so much - God - Then there's Steve. I sound like such a whore, b-but I really like them both." You stammer now really unsure of who to choose. One the one hand Eddie was funny, chivalrous, and kind hearted. The total opposite of the sweet, lively, and popular Steve. Two sides on one coin, but couldn't make of whether you wanted heads or tails. It was crazy, laughing at the uncertainty of it all.

"Well, Belle, seems you have a big choice ahead of you." As the words leave him sure of the reaction he'd receive. You fall silent instantly as his name falls from his lips.

"W-Wait - My name - How'd you know my name?" Things had taken a turn for the worse at this point and he chuckles, dark, and unforgiving.

"Because, sweetheart-" He lowers his voice, goosebumps spreading on your arms, as he speaks, "- I've been watching you this whole time. Now, if I was you I'd find a place to hide." You slam the phone down onto the stand and straighten your spine. Eyeing both kitchen entrances' slowly, gulping down the lump of fear that sat in your throat. Lip quivering as you bravely round the counter towards the left doorway. Briefly glancing at the pantry door when a muffled sound, unidentifiable, but loud enough to keep you worried. Keeping your hand rested on the counter as you slowly pad past the door.

The living-room was a quick shot from the kitchen, only having to make it past there in order to reach your front porch. As soon as you walked through that doorway a figure burst from the pantry. You whirl around a scream ripping through your throat, lungs burning from the sheer force of it. Immediately taking off towards the front door as the ghostly stranger chases after you.

"Shit! Shit!" You curse dodging the coffee table, only for him to step on top the surface and jump down on you. Tackling you down to the ground carpet biting into your back, bare legs and arms. You try to crawl away from him, but to no use. Suddenly gaining a brief moment of courage, you rear your leg back and kick him straight between his legs. The stranger falls back groaning in pain the knife clattering to the floor as he recovers from the sheer pain. You push up off the ground despite the weakness crying out from your overworked joints and run to the door.

Fingers working the locks, before flinging the door open. Only to be met face to face with a white mask, blue jumpsuit, and a large butcher knife. You quickly spin on your heels to run the other direction, but are cut off by Ghostface. Backing up into the other figure who quickly grabs ahold of you. One arm wrapped securely around your waist and the other over your chest. His muscles tensed holding you in place as the blade pressed ever so gently against your cheek. Your fingers dig into his arm clawing and pleading to be let go.

"Thank you, she would have gotten away." The ghostly stranger groaned reaching down to retrieve the lost hunting knife and sighed as he straightens back up. Revealing in the quiet sobs the racked through you. His voice - It sounded so familiar.

"W-Who are you?"

"Who am I?" He waves the knife around dramatically dropping his shoulders as you watch every move he makes. "You wanna go first big boy?" Ghostface steps closer to the brooding figure that had you restrained only receiving a grunt in response. "Guess that's a ye-Excuse me -- And viola!" He pulls the mask off and you crane your head back to eye the - not so stranger - as his hazel irises stare back down at your shaking figure.

Your heart shatters as his name passes your lips, "S-Steve..?" There's no mistaken that floppy chestnut-brown hair and those soft lips.

"Surprise!" Ghostface sings with a dramatic wave of his hands.

"Steve, why?" You whine, looking back at a guy you once trusted. Having delved into your most deepest secrets knowing he'd be there to listen and lend a hand. It just doesn't make any sense. Why would such a guy chose to do this and to someone who you'd been nothing short of nice to. Steve was your friend and deepest crush.

"Aww, she's scared." Ghostface coos watching your breath catch in your throat as you turn to look back at him. Steve laughs from behind you, chest vibrating against your back and he sighs.

"I know, it's addicting. I cannot wait to see how she reacts to you, baby." Steve speaks softly from behind you. Ghostface tilts his head watching you carefully, before reaching a gloved hand to pull back his hood, then removing his mask allowing it to clatter to the floor. Your whole body goes week as your eyes fall on those familiar features. Steve hauls you up against him, keeping you from falling down. Dark curls, a cheeky smile, and soft brown eyes.

"Surprise, sweetheart. Not what you expected huh?" His voice is cocky as he swaggers over to you. His hand raises the knife to your other cheek, licking his lips as he eyes you.

"E-Eddie?" Your bravado falters. To close to be a dream seeing as he was standing right there in front of you. His lips quirk into a sly smirk, as he takes in a deep breath, eyes looking you over.

"Say my name again, princess." Eddie demands pressing the curve of the blade deeper.

"E-Eddie plea-"

"Ah." He chides pressing it deeper earning a pitiful sob. "Again." He demands eyes flitting up to spare a glance at Steve. His lips twitching into a smile as you practically shake beneath them.

"Eddie, please stop.. you're scaring m-"

"Good." He growls at you, trailing the tip of the blade down the curve of your jaw, along your neckline, enjoying the way your throat bobs against his knife. Oh, you were a fucking prize. "I've been thinking day and night about you, Belle." He admits eyeing the dips of your breasts, hidden behind your pink tank-top. "Then you went and admitted your little crush - Fuck - I almost jumped on you then."

"Please don't kill me." You plead with Eddie small drops of salty tears drip down your cheeks, eyes glassy with them as you look up at the guitarist. He wasn't the same anymore. Those once bright eyes now filled with something dark.

"We aren't going to kill you, baby." Steve reassures you going to tuck his knife away knowing Eddie still had a grip on his own if you tried anything. You were a bit relieved, but it dropped. Heart dropping down to your stomach as Eddie spoke again face dangerously close to yours.

"We're gonna keep you. Steve." The larger male lifted you off the ground and slung your small figure over his shoulder albeit effortlessly. A cry leaves your lips as your hands come down on his shoulder blades, "She's feisty." Eddie chuckles, watching you struggle, squirm, and fight against Steve as he drags you out the door on his shoulder. One arm tucked over the curve of your knees and the other on the small of her back.

Eddie's pride flies out the window when you open your mouth, "Help me! Somebo-" He clamps his palm over your parted lips and a quiet whimper leaves you, hands clawing at his wrist as his nails dig into the skin of your cheeks.

"Shut the fuck up or I will hurt you, sweetheart." He threatens. "Got it?" You nod and he sighs relieved moving his hand away, only to brush his knuckle over your reddened cheeks. Only able to let out pitiful sobs and soft whimpers, "Good girl. You'll learn soon enough."

"You belong to us now." Steve chimed in as they reach his car, Eddie eagerly flinging open the trunk and he dumps you inside.

"Both of us." He shuts the trunk with a slam and you burst out into a full sob, crying out, but muffled by the layered metal of the BMW. No one heard you nor would help be coming. Eddie and Steve had you in their grasp and they were never going to let you got.

Not now.

Not ever...

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @st-ls @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @shyposttree @damon-loves-pie @fanficfanatic204 @positivevibesnlif3 @beebslebobs @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @marianita195 @b-barnes04 @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @buchanansbaby @rollergirlworld @allithewriter @555stargirl555

[millylotus]

Written Together In The Stars, Before We Were Even Born

Betrothal AU

A long long time ago Time and Light met on the third hour of existence as they know it, and made a deal. They each wanted something from the other, the few sparks greed that Reality had. They could have traded these wants but they both know that the other would try and take the traded things back. So they decided to meet in the middle, Time for saw a few decades when two beings of their own would be the same age and most compatible and they both decided the two would be wed. That way neither would do anything to each other without the risk of endangering their kin. So Time now has infinite knowledge of the past and Light now has infinite knowledge of all future possibilities. Supereons into the future the time had come.

Duke and Danny wake up one morning, just turned 17, to find out they apparently have a fiance who they've never met or heard of before.

Gnomon shows up at Wayne manor during breakfast with the written contract to tell Duke about the betrothal. Duke, who hasn’t seen his bio-dad for almost a year now, is understandably suspicious. But after Gnomon thoroughly explains what’s going on and shows the very old contract, Duke can’t really deny it anymore.

Danny on the other hand was woken up by the contract falling on his head via Clockwork bullshit. His first reaction was to burst into Jazz’s room and scream about it, then Jazz called Sam and Tucker. They all went over the contract multiple times before they decided that Danny at least needed to find his betrothed.

The contract came with only a first name, with a home city written as well, just to make it a little easier for everyone

Danny’s the one who goes out to find Duke

The Batfam end up searching for Danny like the stalkers they are

It gets kinda ridiculous with all the things they find, [does anyone else know about the purple back gorillas Danny saved from extinction?] what with him being Vlad Masters’ godson and apparently almost died when he was fourteen

None of Danny’s pictures look right because of the whole ghostly thing, the ones with him younger are kinda visible if a bit blurry [Jazz & Danny being mildly liminal since birth is a little headcanon of mine]

BUt because they were before puberty and before he started taking testosterone [all i can hear is past pronunciation], those old pics look wildly different from what Danny looks like now

Duke decides to take a break and just go to his favorite bookstore/cafe, he mainly goes there for peace and quiet and to write his stories and poems

The Eclipse is a bookstore/library/lounge combo, with a warm tone dark academia jazz/painter aesthetic

The Eclipse is probs gonna become recurring now that I think about it [Add On: Just finished building it in the Sims this place is staying]

The three floors above ground are the library got little reading nooks, and study areas

The basement is the lounge area with a corner where the owners keep their own things/activities and drink bar on a wall

The owners are twins, Sarah and Edward Sulaiman, Sarah plays string instruments, jazz mainly, Edward paints people, still, and landscapes

It was midday but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the water heavy clouds and smog covering the Gotham sky like a blanket on top of a pillow fort.

A teenage boy walks the streets of Gotham, there’s nothing awfully unusual about that. He’s Filipino, average height a bit on the taller side, muscle hidden under his clothes loose with a visible silhouette. His fluffy black hair bounces with each step and his eyes, they’re a… wrong shade of blue, let's say that. His eyes scan the streets looking for someone he’d never seen before, never even heard of before this morning. He’d been doing so for hours now.

A heavy drop of rain hit the boy square on the top of his head, the boy recoiled into himself like a cat, clutching his wooden staff in surprise. He looks up to the sky, eyes wide as the sky seems to dump an ocean onto the earth.

The boy runs, looking up and down the street for cover, until he sees a store front with a covered porch. Ducking underneath the roof he stares out into the street where the pouring rain curtains everything.

Sighing, the boy turned to the door of the store, looking at the sign all it said was The Eclipse. The water drops from his body like he was never drenched.

Pushing the double door open a soft jingle sounded through the building, he looked around a checkout desk was to his right another kid behind the counter. The two stared at each other before the kid behind the counter set down their book.

“Welcome to The Eclipse bookstore and lounge, the lounge is in the basement, this floor is the bookstore, the two upper floors are a library. Need anything else?”

The boy shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

The kid nodded and went back to their book.

The boy decided to just go to the third floor, see what they had. The soft murmurs he could hear coming from the basement gave him enough reason to avoid all the people.

There weren’t many people on the upper floors, just more books and a couple lounge chairs. On the top floor he saw a curtain over an open entrance in the back.

Danny sighed in relief, a small cubby to relax in would be nice. Gliding over feet barely touching the ground as he mimed walking.

He moved aside the yellow curtain with his staff, and came face to face with another boy who had taken over the desk on the opposite wall.

The boy looked up from his papers and turned to Danny. The ghost was taken aback by how pretty the other boy was.

“Oh hey, you can sit here if you want,” The boy said, motioning to the small couch on the far wall.

Danny nodded, and went over to the couch, plopping down, his eyes glanced over to the other boy.

“So um, my names Danny by the way,”

Duke looked over to the cute boy on the couch. He’d come to The Eclipse to escape all the talk about his betrothed, it didn't hurt to talk to someone new, who might share a name with his fiance.

“I’m Duke, are you new to The Eclipse? I’ve never seen you around before.”

Danny nodded, “Just recently got to the city, I’m looking for a- a friend.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“Well I haven’t met them yet – Danny rubbed the back of his neck – All I got is a name.”

Danny blinked then looked at Duke with eyes wide, “You two actually have the same name.”

The two starred, and Duke got a sinking feeling that they were looking for each other.

Duke groaned, leaning back in his chair, “Daniel right?”

Danny nodded, still staring wide eyed, “Daniel Fenton-Phantom.”

He stood up walking over to Danny and sitting down next to him, the other pulled in his legs staring at Duke.

“Duke Thomas-Wayne,” He offered up his hand, Danny shook it.

“So we’re betrothed,” Danny said kinda breathless.

“Yeah, it seems so,” Duke said, looking to the ceiling.

They sat there, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Twenty questions?” Danny asked.

Duke looked at him again, “Yeah sure why not.”

They chat for a bit, just talking getting to know each other

They get along swimmingly, and Duke says Danny could come with him to Wayne Manor latter to meet his family

Danny invites Duke to come over to Amity and met his sister and friends

The small room on top of The Eclipse, Bookstore and Lounge, has a few tall bookshelves, a couch on the far wall and a desk opposite to the entrance.

Today its giant bay window, by the couch, is being hit by heavy drops or rain, the room lit by a soft yellow light from a simple chandelier on the ceiling. A couple paintings made by one of the owners.

Blankets kept under the couch that had been pulled out and draped over the sleeping boy. Books pulled off the shelves and opened on the desk presented to the boy writing in his many notebooks and papers.

It was quiet with only white noise, it was nice, familiar even.

Two being too big to be perceived by the mortal mind, watched with fond emotions as their plans fell into perfect place.

Gnomon and Bruce end up going out to look for Duke at The Eclipse

I don’t know these two relationship but I’m getting reluctant co-parents with benefits, so ya know

Anyway they end up finding Duke, who’s fallen asleep

Danny had woken up at some point and moved Duke to the couch and gave him a blanket, Danny himself is on the floor asleep leaning on the couch

The dads coo over their boy a bit cause this is adorable

When Gnomon gets closer Danny’s ghost sense goes off and is immediately on his feet and guarding Duke, who’s starting to wake up

Bruce and Gnomon blinked at the teenage boy brandishing his staff at them, standing protectively in front of their son.

Bruce takes a tentative step forward, the boy immediately turns his staff to the man.

“Stay back,” He growled.

Gnomon raised an eyebrow, and Bruce frowned at the kid. But neither moved

Duke groaned, waking up slowly taking in the scene around him, before quickly sitting up, “B, Uba? What are you doing here?”

The boy looked between the fathers and their son.

“You know them?” He asked.

Duke stood up, “Yeah they’re my dads.”

Both men would deny that they preened from the title their child had given them.

“Oh – The boy’s face fell and he immediately pulled into himself, awkwardly shuffled to Duke’s side – Sorry about that Sirs.”

“No need to worry, your worry for Duke is understandable,” Bruce said, smiling softly.

Gnomon nodded, “But we must ask, who are you child?”

Duke and the boy shared a glance.

The boy stepped forward, reaching out a hand, “Daniel Fenton-Phantom, Duke’s betrothed.”

DEADLIGHTS MASTERPOST, GENERAL NOTES, MEMES, AO3

[starlight-adventurer]

DP x DC Idea #2

Got super inspired by @porcelana-r0ta​ ‘s stalker buddies au

(meant to post this a while ago but didn't realise I'd only saved it as a draft)(oops)

Ship: Tim x Wes (they’re kind of iconic together)

Wes is kind of fed up of all the ghostly shenanigans and shady government organisations in Amity. Worse than that the JL aren't great at picking up the phone. What's a guy to do?

Answer: ask your very smart anonymous internet bestie crush for advice.

His suggestion? Either become a super villain or give them incentive to listen to you (read: blackmail one of them).

It's sound advice and Wes could finally visit his best friend if he killed two birds with one stone by making Gotham his destination. Sure, Batman could steal his bones, but so could the rest of the supergoons.

Cut to Tim finding out that the funny guy he talks to about memes and coldcases with is planning to blackmail his dad based on a joke he made at 3am six months ago after not sleeping for 4 days straight. He can hear the Batdissapointment™ already. But, hey, it might be worth it to finally put a face to the guy who'd been living rent free in his head for the last 2 years.