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blackshadowswriter · 2 years

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Make It Better┃ Matt Murdock

Summary: You've had nothing but bad experiences with men and periods, something Matt will not stand. He's determined to make it better for you, and oh, he succeeded.

Words: 3,840

CW: period stigma (dickhead men being assholes about periods), smut (nipple play, clit stimulation, praise kink, aftercare)

AN: I've been seeing quite a few period comfort fics with Matt on here, and the writers were all like "my period just started, so I wanted to write this," and like, are our cycles all aligned? Because me too bitches, and I decided to join the party ✌

Periods. Menstruation. That time of the month.

Call it what you want. There was no disguising the harsh truth once a girl got hers—that periods were plain misery.

Your old Sunday school teachers from middle school when your parents dragged you to church told all the girls how their monthly menstruations were a blessing from God, a sign of fertility and womanhood. All of the class had gazed up at the nun preaching this with expression ranging from amazement to apprehension to downright horror.

You were one of the last group, and you had found out soon enough that you were right. Despite all the praises that nun had sang to God for "blessing" the girls with their periods, there was no hiding the fact that periods were downright torture.

There you were on a Friday night in the present, thinking of that nun and her insistent voice ringing with memory in the back of your head: "Remember, girls, always thank God when your monthly menstruation begins for God has blessed you with fertility of a woman."

Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit, you thought.

And there you were, curled up in bed, cursing that nun in your head with language that could have given the aurora borealis a run for its money.

Dull throbs of agony worked its way from your lower abdomen all the way through your body, resonating to your back, to your chest, to your thighs. You were tangled up in the sheets in the fetal position, unwilling to move any more than was necessary at the moment even though such movement would be inevitable. You'd already ran through three tampons, and your period had just started this afternoon.

The first and second days were always the worst.

A miserable noise escaped your lips as you rolled over slightly onto your boyfriend's side of the bed. Speaking of which, he should be back from work soon—

The sound of the front door opening met your ears, paired with the familiar tap of a cane echoing through the living room to the open door of the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, I'm home!"

Any other day, the low timber of Matt's voice would have had you springing up from the bed or the couch or wherever you'd nestled and racing into his arms. Today, however, you simply burrowed further into the bed, groaning.

"Sweetheart?" Matt appeared at the doorway, the concerned furrow of his brows evident as he made his way to your side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just...bad day," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in, unwilling to face the embarrassment of telling Matt what was going on. While the two of you had been dating for months now, this was the first time you'd gotten your period since you moved into Matt's apartment with him. This was an unfortunate side issue you admittedly hadn't been thought about when you agreed.

"Yeah?" The bed dipped down slightly where Matt sat down next to you. His calloused fingers were in your hair a second later, gently scratching your scalp. The heavenly feeling of his hands in your hair usually had you purring and curling against him, but all it did today was make you whine. "Tell me about it then?"

You sighed softly, shifting your position as you uncurled your legs to stretch them out. "Just everything bad in genera—Matt? You alright?"

He had gone stiff, his blank eyes darting around and his mouth set in a hard line. In a second, his hands were around your waist, hauling you up from the bed and dragging your form towards him.

A disgruntled huff flew from your lips at the sudden movement. You wound up in Matt's lap, which was something you usually wouldn't protest against, but the situation in your bitch of a uterus sent a fresh wave of pain stabbing in your abdomen. "Matt!" you complained. "What's going on?"

"Where is it?" Matt demanded, his ever gentle hands roaming up and down your waist and skimming across the sides of your thighs as if looking for something. "Who did it to you?"

"Did what?" you asked in confusion.

"I can smell it," he growled, teeth slightly bared as he hunted for the perceived threat. "Who hurt you?"

"N-no one hurt me," you said, utterly bewildered, watching him search for any sign of injury along your body even though there was none. Perhaps this was just a clever ploy to feel you up. You reached up to tap the side of his cheek. "I think your bat senses are acting up, Matt."

He softened at your touch, but his hands remained persistent, roaming across your legs. Oddly enough, his touch was centered in the general area of your hips and thighs as he skimmed for any hurt. That was only further cementing your theory of him just trying to get handsy. "I can smell your blood, sweetheart," he rumbled. "Where are you hurt? Tell me who did it to you."

You froze. "Y-you...can...smell..."

Matt's head tilted to the side. "There's blood around the area of your thighs," he murmured. "Who hurt you?"

Realization washed over you like a bucket of icy cold water. You slumped forward with a groan, pressing your palms to your forehead. Embarrassment was searing its way through your face, turning your cheeks bright red. "No, Matt, no," you sighed, grimacing as you searched for a way to explain. "I'm not hurt. No one hurt me. I'm...I'm fine."

"I can smell blood," he insisted. "You're hurt."

"I'm not hurting," you groaned, tipping your head forward to bury it in your hands, wincing when the movement only amplified your cramps.

Matt's brow furrowed as he tilted his head further towards your chest. Oh shit, you thought as you realized he was listening to your heartbeat, likely hearing the lie in your words that you weren't hurting while your cramps were mowing down every nerve in your fucking uterus.

His hand stilled on your left thigh, and he slowly rubbed a circle into your skin with his thumb. "Why won't you tell me, sweetheart?" he asked softly. "I can tell you're in pain, I can smell the endorphins. What's wrong?"

You flopped backwards onto the bed with a wince. "'M not hurt," you mumbled sullenly. "They're just cramps."

"Cramps?"

Burying your face underneath to pillow as if it would hide you from your humiliation, you grumbled, ""M on my period, Matt."

Your legs were still resting across Matt's lap, so you felt the moment he stilled at your words. You cringed beneath the pillow, waiting for one of the inevitable responses you had heard from men all the time: ew, that's disgusting, get off me, go away—

"Oh," he said softly, a faint note of what sounded like relief in his voice. That made no sense; why would he be relieved? He should be disgusted, he should be grossed out, he should be telling you to get off his bed.

The bed shifted around you, and Matt's legs slid out from underneath you. Your eyes closed in resignment, but at least him just leaving was better than him kicking you out, you decided.

Instead, an strong arm snaked around your waist, and the comforting feel of Matt's warm weight was draped across your back. He pulled you into his chest, spooning you as he wrapped his arms around your scrunched-up form. His lips ghosted across the side of your neck to press a kiss along your jawline.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed in your ear. "Are you alright?"

Your brain took a few seconds to adjust to the fact that Matt was still here, Matt hadn't run away, he hadn't asked you to leave, he was cuddling with you instead of treating you like some disgusting animal, he was still here—

You frowned and rolled over onto your back to look up at him. "Why aren't you running away?"

"Why would I?" Matt asked, confused. His tone, sincere as it was, only served to befuddle you even further. He really, truly saw no reason to leave you. How?

"I'm on my period," you said slowly as if his radar hearing hadn't heard it loud and clear the first time.

Matt nuzzled his face against your neck, tangling his legs with yours. "And?" he murmured sleepily.

"I thought...are you not, you know...grossed out?"

"Why would I?" he asked again, his fingers coming up to stroke the side of your face. "It's just blood, isn't it? Sweetheart, you can't possibly think that blood would scare me away? I bleed every night." His voice was tinged with amusement.

"It's different," you mumbled, turning to hide your face against his throat, pleasantly surprised when he let you. Gentle hands slid up into your hair, stroking the back of your head tenderly.

Matt hummed in disagreement. "How so? Blood's blood."

"It's..." You huffed out a sigh of frustration. "God, Matt, do I really have to explain how periods work to you?"

"I did pass high school biology, thank you very much," Matt laughed.

"Then you do know that my bitch of a uterus is currently pouring buckets of blood out my fucking vagina?"

An amused smirk lifted the corner of his lips up. "That wasn't exactly how they phrased it in school, but I guess the general idea was the same."

"How are you still here?" you demanded. "Why aren't you leaving? Or kicking me out of the bed or—or—"

A dark shadow crossed Matt's face, any trace of humor disappearing from his expression. He licked his lips slowly, and when he spoke, his words were tainted with restrained anger that you understood wasn't directed at you. "Have others done that to you before? They kicked you out of the bed?"

"Um...well, all of my exes were grossed out," you mumbled, watching the corner of Matt's lips tighten in displeasure. You had no idea why he was so angered by this new information—was that not how all men treated periods? "Some just had varying levels of reactions."

Matt curled his lip, teeth clenching and eyes burning with fiery fury. "I hope none of them ever find themselves in Hell's Kitchen," he said darkly. "Or I'll be having a talk with them at night."

You had no doubt Matt wasn't referring to a nice little innocent-blind-lawyer-here-to-help talk. Most definitely, more of a break-your-bones-as-the-devil kind of talk.

"Why?" you asked, infinitely confused. "I mean...I thought it was normal for guys to, you know...react like that."

Matt scoffed harshly. "No," he growled. "Those exes of yours are all assholes." He stroked the side of your face tenderly and dipped his head down to kiss you, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the anger thrumming below the surface in his body. You tilted your head up to return the kiss, your head still caught up on the fact that holy shit, he was still here, he hadn't run away.

"I love you," you sighed against his lips, feeling him soften against you.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured. Matt nuzzled against your neck, trailing kisses along your throat as he entwined his legs with yours. His arm slid firmly around your waist and pulled you into his chest, kissing your lips again.

Eyes fluttering shut, you relaxed in Matt's arms, savoring in the feel of his heavenly soft lips against yours. You were just getting comfortable, all cuddled up against him when another vicious cramp rolled across your stomach. A sharp whine at the pain falling from your lips broke the kiss as you drew your legs up to your chest with a miserable groan.

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow. "Stupid—fucking—cramps," you hissed.

Matt rubbed your back sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I wish I could make it better." You could hear the frustration at his helplessness in this situation bleeding into his voice.

"Yeah, I wish you could too," you mumbled, pressing the heel of your palm against your closed eyes as if the darkness would minimize your pain. Alas, it did nothing except make little stars pop up behind your eyelids from how hard you dug your hands in. "It's fine, Matt. This happens every month. I'll live. I'll just...ride this out until it's done."

"I don't like it," Matt grumbled. "I don't like you being in pain.

"'You can't do anything about it," you reminded him gently, shifting in bed to look at him, hiding a grimace at the throbbing cramps the movement brought. You reached up to brush your fingers along his cheek. "It's not like you can go all Daredevil on my uterus. Which wouldn't exactly help anyways."

A thoughtful hum vibrated against your skin as Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, running his fingers along your arm. After a few moments of consideration, he said quietly, "You know...I read something the other day. About periods."

"Yeah?" You lifted a teasing eyebrow that you knew he could feel if not see. "And what exactly, Mr. Murdock, were you doing reading about periods?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Doesn't really matter," he said evasively, and your eyebrows traveled further up your forehead. "I read that oxytocin can help relieve period cramps."

"And?"

"And..." Matt nudged you over on your back, hovering his body over yours and dipping down to kiss you. "You know what releases oxytocin?"

"'M—not a—scientist—Matt," you complained as he started pecking you on the lips like a fucking bird. "I don't know—cuddling probably?"

"Mhm," he agreed, easing up on his insistent pecking and trailing his lips down to your throat. "That's one. What else?"

"You're not my 9th grade biology teacher," you huffed, grimacing through more cramps and drawing in a pained breath through clenched teeth. "What else releases oxytocin then, professor?"

Matt lifted his head from your neck, and the devilish grin he flashed you was practically dripping with sin. "Orgasms," he said with a perfectly innocent face.

You blinked. "Wha—Matt!"

Your question dissolved into a yelp when Matt yanked you towards him suddenly, bracing himself on his elbows over you, one of his hands cupping your jaw as he kissed you languidly. His insistent tongue slid into your mouth the second you opened it to him, the molten heat of him melting into you. Despite yourself, you let out a strangled moan, your own hands reaching up for him.

"Matt," you panted against his lips. "I can't—I'm sorry—not right now, I'm on my period."

"Oh sweetheart." He cradled the side of your face in one hand and slid his hand down to your thigh thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip before dipping his head down towards yours, his lips hovering an inch from yours. "You don't think that'll stop me, do you?"

"Mhm," you mumbled between his kisses. "Matt—'M bleeding—'s not gonna be pretty—"

"Well, lucky for me, that won't be a problem, will it?" Matt asked, that hungry, ridiculously hot smirk cropping up again as he dragged your lips back to his, hands gliding up across your waist. You had gone to bed in a pair of panties and an oversized shirt, and clearly, Matt was taking advantage of your lack of clothing.

Not that you were complaining in the slightest.

But the fact still stood that there was enough blood pouring out of you to fill the goddamn Nile River.

It was hard to form a coherent thought between Matt's insistent kisses and his exploring hands, and you wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you. Normally, that was a good enough plan but not on your period. You would bleed all over Matt's silk sheets, and you didn't think Matt could handle the smell nor you the embarrassment.

"Matt," you whined as his hands got more adventurous, sliding up underneath your shirt to gently massage at your skin.

"Shh," he murmured, nipping lightly at your neck while one of his large, calloused hands found their way up to your breasts. You arched into his touch when he brushed his fingers softly over your nipples, a breathy moan escaping your lips despite yourself. "Just let me take of you, okay? Let me make it better for you, sweetheart. Let me help you. Can you do that for me, honey?"

"I—fuck," you gasped when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, your sensitive body reacting instantly to his touch. Heat coiled between your legs, and you automatically tried to squeeze them together, but Matt was still cradled between your thighs.

But he felt the way you clenched around his broad hips, a low chuckle sounding in your ear. "Sounds like you want it, sweetheart," he mused, switching to cup your other breast in his hand with a reverent murmur of your name. "Don't fight it—it's okay. Let me make it better, okay?"

"Fuck," you groaned, instinctively grinding your hips upwards into Matt's. "Yes, yes, okay. Fuck, yes, Matt."

The sinful smile he gave you made it all worth it. "Good girl," he praised softly, grin only widening when you whimpered at the name. "Let's get this off now, hmm?" he purred, tugging at your shirt.

All too eager, you practically ripped it off your body with a panting groan as Matt lowered himself down so that his body molded against yours, the almost burning heat of his mouth gliding up across your stomach to your breasts. He sucked one gently, swirling his tongue around your oversensitive nipple before switching to the other while you moaned above him. Your breathless gasps of his name only urged him on further as his fingers danced down towards the waistband of your panties, skimming across the soft skin of your hip.

"Matt," you groaned when he curled his fingers in the fabric, ready to tug them off. "I—mphm—gonna get blood on—on the sheets—"

"Don't care," he said absently, shifting down the bed to settle between your legs, already sliding your panties down your legs. "'S just blood, and they're just sheets. I want you."

Before you could even begin to comprehend just how much that one statement meant to you, Matt's fingers were diving into your folds, swiping across both blood and wetness before bringing them back up to circle your clit achingly slowly. A broken whine spilled from your mouth, the first caress of pleasure coming after days of pain and cramps like a glimpse of sun breaking through clouds.

You gasped Matt's name in both praise and plea combined, nearly writhing when he finally applied more pressure where you desperately needed against your sensitive clit. Hips bucking up into his hand, you let out a needy moan, eyes rolling back into your head while he worked his fingers in the magical way only Matthew fucking Murdock could.

"That's it, sweetheart," Matt cooed, speeding up the pace of his fingers. You could hear the absolutely sinful sound of your slick against Matt's fingers as he stroked you faster. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go, I got you."

The praise had you panting and gasping like each breath was the last one you could take. Fiery pleasure was scorching its way across you, starting at the point where Matt was touching you so well and burning across every nerve in your body like a supernova exploding into existence.

"So close, sweetheart, just let go," Matt encouraged, gliding his fingers over your swollen bud. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, he slid a hand up your body to roll over your nipple at the exact moment he brushed his fingers up against that spot on your clit, and that was it. You cried out, Matt's name echoing on repeat in the bedroom while molten heat rolled across your body in a tidal wave, days of pent up stress melting away as you finally gave way to pleasure. Your body trembled as you came down from your orgasm, and your head fell back against the pillows with a blissed out moan.

"Mm...Matt," you slurred, still drunk on the feel of your slowly receding pleasure.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he called, sounding oddly distant.

You peered blearily at the doorway, only now realizing that he had disappeared from the bed. Your heart sank, lazy afterglow of pleasure giving way to gripping anxiety once more. God, this was what you had been afraid of. Even Matt, as wonderful as he was, would also be grossed out by your blood all over him, something you couldn't blame him for—you probably looked like an extra for the Walking Dead down there. No wonder he had left. Your head flopped back down, an empty feeling worming its way into your chest.

But then the bed shifted again under Matt's weight, and you looked up, confused once more, to see Matt sliding back in bed with you, a warm washcloth in hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, his now clean hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "I heard your heart going up. What happened?"

"I..." You watched in a state of half disbelief and half awe as Matt gently wiped away the blood smeared along the insides of your thighs with no disgust, no judgement, no desire to hastily sweep away the evidence—just sweet, genuine care. On a normal day, this would warrant a thank you, a gesture of affection in return, or just anything to thank him like a normal person would.

But this wasn't a normal day, and you promptly burst into tears.

The cloth was all but abandoned on your leg as Matt moved back up to cradle you against his warm, broad chest without a word.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm not usually this emotional, I swear—"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face. "It's okay, I know."

"It's just—" you sniffled, blinking back more tears. "None of my other boyfriends did this. They all treated me like I was dirty or—or contaminated, and I thought you were leaving me, but you've been s-so good to me."

"It's the least I could do, honey," Matt assured you, tilting your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "Because I love you, and I want to help you any way I can."

"I love you so much," you mumbled against his lips, slumping against him in peace before you sat up, realizing something. "Oh God, Matt, I'm sorry, I didn't take care of you, I meant to—"

""Hey, hey, no," he soothed. "It's okay, that was about you. You needed it, don't worry about me."

"But—"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm good, sweetheart. Now, let me clean you up, and we can go to bed, alright?"

"....Okay," you agreed quietly when Matt gave you that stern look that you knew meant he wouldn't budge on this.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed like a pair of koalas, legs entwined and arms around each other. You nuzzled further into Matt's arms when he dropped a kiss into your hair.

"I love you," you murmured sleepily. "How did I get such a wonderful boyfriend?"

You felt Matt's lips turn up into a smile where they were pressed against your forehead. "Hmm, I don't know, but I'm sure your boyfriend doesn't deserve you."

"Stop it," you scolded, reaching up to cup his cheek. "If anything, I don't deserve you. You take care of me so well, Matt."

Matt smiled, his blank eyes fixed on your face as he turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist lightly. "Always, sweetheart," he vowed. "I love you."

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AN: Funny how the smutty fic is the first Matt fic I post even though I have so many swimming in my drafts. Almost like it's a sign of some sort 🤔I'm working on those req though, I promise, guys

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

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doumadono · 5 months

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Emergency request!

Yesterday evening the Aurora borealis was visible where I live, my family went to get a better view but I stayed home. Still, it was visible even from my backyard. But I missed it entirely because I had terrible diarrhea and vomited, and now I feel ugly, gross and unlucky.

The worst part was seeing texts of family and friends saying 'look outside' and 'it's amazing' sent five minutes after getting sick, and later when they got home no one asked if I was okay. The only solace I have is that if I'd gone with my fam I'd have probably shit myself.

Could I please request Shouto comforting me after having to miss something like that due to sickness? Something I "might never get to see again"? He's my comfort character.

If this doesn't qualify as an emergency I totally understand.

Aurora borealis - Shoto x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear about your difficult evening. It's understandable to feel disappointed, but please know that missing the aurora borealis doesn't make you any less lucky or worthy. Your health and well-being are the most important things. If it's any consolation, I'm sure there will always be more opportunities to witness the beauty of nature ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Shoto sat on the edge of your bed, concern etched into his features as he watched you curled up under the blankets.

Your face was drawn with exhaustion and frustration, the events of the evening clearly weighing heavily on your mind.

He reached out a gentle hand, resting it on your shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet room. "Are you feeling any better?"

You glanced up at him, the faintest hint of tears glistening in your eyes. "It was supposed to be so beautiful," you murmured, your voice tinged with disappointment. "I've always wanted to see it, and now I might never get the chance again. And no, my tummy still hurts."

Shoto's heart ached at the sadness in your voice. He knew how much you had been looking forward to witnessing the natural wonder, and it pained him to see you feeling so downcast. But he also knew that there were more important things than seeing a celestial display. "What matters most right now is that you take care of yourself."

You sighed, leaning into his touch as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I just feel so… ugly and gross," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as a single tear rolled down your reddened cheek. "I feel so unlucky," you confessed, your voice tinged with sadness.

Shoto's grip tightened ever so slightly, his warmth a comforting presence against your skin. "You're not ugly or gross, baby," he said firmly, placing a kiss to your temple. "You're human, and sometimes our bodies don't cooperate the way we want them to. It's okay to feel disappointed, but please don't be so hard on yourself." Shoto's hand gently brushed against your hair, his touch soothing. "As I said, your health comes first, always."

You sniffled, a tear slipping down your cheek as you leaned into Shoto's embrace. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "You're the best boyfriend."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. "Anytime," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet room.

After leaving your shared bedroom where you were resting, Shoto's mind raced as he thought of a way to bring the beauty of the Aurora borealis to you, even though you couldn't witness it in person.

Remembering Denki Kaminari, your common friend from U.A. times, was a streamer, he quickly reached out to him. Shoto pulled out his phone and dialed Denki's number. After a few rings, Denki finally answered.

"Hey, Todoroki! What's up?" Denki's cheerful voice came through the line.

"Hey, Denki. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I have a favor to ask," Shoto replied, trying to keep his tone steady.

"Of course, man! What do you need?" Denki responded, sounding genuinely interested.

"Well, you see, the Aurora borealis is visible tonight, and… well, my girlfriend is feeling really sick and couldn't come out to see it. And since you're frequently streaming on YouTube, I was wondering if you could stream it on your channel so she could watch it from home?" Shoto explained, feeling a bit awkward.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Denki spoke again. "Wow, that sounds like a great idea! I'd be happy to help out! Let me jus finish my gameplay! Just give me a few minutes to set everything up, okay?"

Relief flooded through Shoto as he thanked Denki profusely. "Thank you so much, Kaminari. This means a lot to me and Y/N. I owe you one."

"No problem at all, Todoroki. Just glad I can help out. I'll let you know when the stream is up and running," Denki replied, his enthusiasm evident in his voice.

With a grateful smile, Shoto ended the call, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

After some time, Todoroki returned to your shared bedroom with his laptop and a cup of freshly brewed mint. He passed you the cup and turned his computer on and navigated to YouTube.

"What are you doing, Shoto?" you asked, puzzled by his sudden actions as you slowly sat up, wrapping blanket around your shoulder, still feeling a little nauseous.

"Just wait and see," he replied with a small smile, his eyes focused on the screen.

Then, to your surprise, you saw Denki's stream pop up on the screen, the vivid colors of the Aurora borealis dancing across the display.

"Is that…?" you started, but Shoto cut you off with a nod.

"Yeah, it's Denki. He's streaming it live for you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and understanding. "I asked him if he could do that, and he agreed instantly. It's handy having a friend who's a YouTuber," Shoto chuckled softly.

As the night sky painted itself in shades of violet, teal, and emerald, the ethereal dance of the Aurora Borealis began. The camera panned slowly, capturing every mesmerizing movement of the celestial phenomenon. The colors shifted and swirled, creating intricate patterns that seemed to come alive before your eyes. As the stream continued, the intensity of the auroras seemed to grow, casting an enchanting glow over the landscape below. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches silhouetted against the shifting colors of the sky. Occasionally, a shooting star streaked across the heavens, adding an extra touch of magic to the already mesmerizing scene.

The chat buzzed with excitement as viewers shared their awe and wonder at the natural spectacle, asking Kaminari for his opinion as well.

You couldn't believe it. The beauty of the phenomenon filled you with awe, and tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what Shoto had done for you. "Shoto, I don't know what to say," you whispered, overcome with emotion.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I just wanted you to experience this, even if you couldn't be there in person. You mean everything to me, and I'll always go the extra mile to make you happy."

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proneterror204 · 1 year

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weight of the crown

Danny had defeated Pariah Dark and Fallen into a coma-like sleep for days. After he came to he found he now had the crown and ring. The once Crown of Fire was now made of ice and glowed with a aurora borealis light and the once Ring of Rage now glowed a calming blue, a symbol of his new office as Ghost King.

Two weeks after the fight the changes started. Danny started to eat more. He was always skinny, but now you could see his ribs and his stomach kept shrinking deeper and deeper into him no matter how much he ate. Sam had bought and seen him eat 25 pizzas in a day but nothing helped. His eyes were getting sunken and his face gaunt. He was losing hair and what wasn't lost was turning grey. Even Danny's parents had noticed, a testament of how severe it was, and believed it was some kind of ectoplasm poisoning.

Clockwork was shifting though the timestream looking for a way to fix the problem, when his door was flung open. Startled he turned to find Jasmine Fenton in his tower demanding answers. He was shocked, he had not foreseen this in the timeline. He gave her a cryptic answer then turned from her. What happened next was ,again, not foreseen as Jazz grabbed him by his collar and screamed in his face! As she screamed tear ran mascara down her face like blood. For the first time, in a long time, the god of time was scared. Then the answer struck him. It struck him so hard he thought it might have be jazz's hand. Danny was missing Divine power.

The role of Ghost King was never supposed to be. It was supposed to be Hades, God of the dead and King of the underworld. Hades had abandoned his seat and realm and betrayed Olympus for the titans. When Hades fell the gods had taken the crown and thrown it into a gladiator pit, letting the strongest soul have the crown. That's why Pariah had gone mad and why Danny was falling ill. They were mortals bearing the burden of a God. Lucky for Danny, Clockwork had a granddaughter who was current praying for a relationship. Cassie Sandsmark would be perfect for Danny. Clockwork grabbed Jazz and teleported to Olympus, he had a son and 2 grandaughters to talk to and jazz had a relationship to plan. The worlds of both living and dead depended on it.

inspired by: https://www.tumblr.com/satoshy12/722721136182509568/seducion-of-phantom?source=share

Danny Fenton/Cassie Sandsmark = Wonderspirit

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #cassie sandsmark #ghost king danny #clockwork is chronos #wonder girl #danny fenton

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phantom-dc · 1 year

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Jason is 19 years old.

He wakes up, startled by his phone. As he reaches for his phone, he tries to remember his dream. They always slip away. He understands the green swirls, that awful Lazarus color. But there are things floating around in there, that he can never remember. Picking up, he is greeted a familiar voice. Dick tells him they found a cult that had been kidnapping people and they are going to sacrifice someone tonight. Normally they can handle those, but since it’s technically in Red Hood’s area he decided to call. Jason sighs and tells him to send him the address, he’ll be there in 10. He knows that the Bats could handle a bunch of weirdo’s in robes, but if he lets them work in his territory without him, they might try to barge in more often. Can’t have that. It wasn’t that long ago they settled on their truce, but that doesn’t mean Jason was ready to become part of the family again, and giving them an excuse to come over more was out of the question. He puts on his uniform and helmet and leaves. The faster he can get this over with the better.

When he gets there he wasn’t expecting this. He had thought it’d be 5 guys with cheap candles and too much free time, but these guys were a bit more organized. About 30 of them, and all carrying blades. They had about 10 young women ready as sacrifices. That’s probably where they’re going to get the blood for the summoning circle from. Luckily they don’t seem hurt yet. Red Hood joined the fight, taking out a cultist by landing on him. Knocking another one unconscious, he sees Nightwing doing a flip and kick 2 cultists in the face. Extra fucker, you don’t need to do so many flips, you know. Or is he trying to show off for the girls? Nah, knowing him he just liked showing off in general. He rips the blade out a cultist’s hand and stabs him with it, before pulling it out and doing the same to 2 more. He spots Batman, who is throwing Batarangs at another group that tries to run away. He notices his disappointed glare. Well, Bruce can shove it. He didn’t even stab them that badly! If they get medical care they’ll probably survive. Jason gets closer to the middle of the room. As he breaks a cultist’s arm, he spots Red Robin. He is protecting the girls. Jason is caught off guard. He didn’t expect Tim to be here. Not after he went way too far. Tim probably thought Jason was trying to kill him back then. He really hadn’t been though, he just wanted to scare Tim off being Robin. But with the Lazarus still clouding his thoughts he’d gone overboard…

Suddenly Jason felt a pain on his neck. While he got distracted one of the cultists had managed to nick him right where the armor and his helmet met. A weak spot, Jason thought as he kicked the cultist away. Something to remember for the next armor. Behind him, his blood hit the summoning circle. A green glow gets everyone’s attention. The remaining cultists cheer. The circle worked! Their God would make them immortal! Jason wasn’t paying attention to them, stepping away from the circle that had started to bubble in the middle. Batman started barking orders, prompting Red Robin to save the hostages and Nightwing to start rounding up the remaining cultists. Batman himself seemed to be trying to call someone on his communicator. Who the hell could Bruce know that could help with this?

Suddenly a huge, white, clawed hand bursts from the circle, planting itself on the ground next to it, before a second hand, this one wearing a dark ring, did the same. As the ceiling impossibly becomes a night sky, a large black mass tries to pull itself out of the ground, as Jason hears Batman say something about the circle not having a shield. That can’t be good. The mass pulls itself from the ground, revealing a white-haired head, wearing a crown that immediately spreads a green/blue borealis around itself. Was the warehouse they were in always this tall? No, reality had warped just to accommodate this being’s size! Nightwing said it hurt to look at it, which confused Jason. He had no trouble with that. It opens its maw, and an icy fog escaped. It looked around, full green eyes scanning the room. Fearing it would notice the hostages, Jason did something he’d consider very stupid later. He yelled: HEY! It immediately got the being’s attention, lowering its head to get a closer look at Red Hood. It doesn’t move its maw, yet it speaks: You feel… familiar.

It brings it’s claw closer to Jason, in a manner that reminds Jason of a curious child. That doesn’t make him feel any better though. As the claw comes closer, it feels like time is slowing down. Jason can’t bring himself to move. Right before it can make contact, it is suddenly pulled away. Jason vaguely hears Batman reciting something from his communicator, as the being is sucked back down the circle. When it disappears, the warehouse returns to normal again. Batman thanks a ‘Constantine’ over his communicator. Red Robin reports to Batman the hostages are safe, and Nightwing reports that the police is here to arrest the cultists. Batman nods, before turning to Jason. He asks if he is alright, snapping Jason out of is daze. He tells Batman that he can handle himself, and that he is out of here. As he leaves, Nightwing mentions he didn’t cuss at them. That’s good!

At home Jason flops down on his bed. That had been way too intense. He felt like that being was trying to look straight into his soul. As he tries to fall asleep, one thing keeps him awake: It had called him familiar, and for some reason, Jason agreed. That being was familiar.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #red hood #jason todd #batman #dead on main

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teecupangel · 2 years

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Desmond dying gives us the easiest way to throw him anywhere we want thanks to how mysterious the Eye, the Calculations, the actual Global Aurora Borealis device, and all these other Isu bullshit work.

Throw him back to the past to meet the other AC protagonists? Now easier with the existence of the Reader.

Keep him alive in the modern day or throw him further forward (like Watch_Dog Legion timeline maybe?)? Yeah, just say the device didn't kill him but changed him somehow and there was a delay (temporary death), or use some other Isu bullshit to revive him.

Wanna make crossovers? Easy. Every other series you can think of can be part of the Calculations that the Isus didn't choose. Just to name a few:

Horizon Zero Dawn? Change Abstergo to Far Zenith and you're good to go (Faro being a Templar gone rogue is also optional)

Resident Evil? Abstergo's main line of business is pharmaceutical which is also Umbrella's main line (you can make the initial viruses based on some failed Isu research to survive the solar flare)

Prototype? The Zeus virus can be based on a failed Isu research that perhaps Tinia researched (OG Alex Mercer being a Templar optional)

BBC Merlin? Magic came from the humans who got experimented ala Aita and Juno in Atlantis who then passed it on to their descendants together with the Isu genes (also if you like the headcanon that eyes turn gold when they use Eagle Vision, this means Desmond gets to be treated as a sorcerer who has no idea what's happening)

Animal Crossing? Desmond wakes up in a world where evolution was different and he is being driven to a town by some animal-looking person who isn't weirded out that he's sitting on the back of his taxi and, for some reason, now in debt

Armored Core? The Templars decide that making bigass robots is a good idea for some reason and the whole 'humans had to go underground for a while' can either be because of the solar flare, some other Isu bs, or because humans are humans

Prince of Persia? The dagger of time is a POE and it's the one that pulled Desmond to this timeline

Dead Space? The Marker is a POE and the supposed civilization that got taken out by the necromorphs before could be the Isus who couldn't escape to Earth

In conclusion:

It is very easy to turn Desmond into an isekai protagonist.

#the prototype one is actually an idea i have for a protocreed fic #also the resident evil one #this is what happens when i can't sleep #assassin's creed #desmond miles #teecup writes/has a plot #you can say a series and i'll probably be able to find a way to throw desmond into that series

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ramblingoak · 4 months

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The Perfect Moment

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 14 - Doing Each Others' Makeup

Mist x Aurora (using a bonus prompt today and kind of playing with it a bit)

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mist owns an antique store called The Reliquary and Aurora owns Little Sunshine Tattoos ~

Warnings: mentions of a tattoo needle otherwise just very sappy, sfw, 670 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

“You need to hold still unless you want me to mess up.”

“I am holding still.” Mist ignored Aurora’s look, taking a deep breath and trying to relax again. It wasn’t that the needle hurt, it just felt…weird. The buzzing sound was almost worse but Aurora had put some music on that was helping her tune it out. “How does it look?”

“Hideous.”

Alright she deserved that. She resolved to stay quiet and let Aurora work. The ghoulette had been fretting over the design of the tattoo for weeks now. Sometimes even going over to Mountain’s to get Rain’s opinion. Mist had seen dozens of different variations of it, each one more beautiful than the next. She had started to feel bad about asking Aurora since it was obvious her girlfriend was stressing over the whole thing but to Mist there was no one else she’d rather have design it.

And obviously no one else she’d rather have tattoo it.

“Thank you.” Mist glanced over when the buzzing stopped, her eyes immediately meeting those of Aurora’s. “I’m glad you’re doing it.”

“Baby, I’m honored you asked me.” Aurora grabbed a rag and wiped away some excess ink. “And the design you wanted it’s…well…”

“It’s what? I thought you liked the idea.”

“I do! Mist, I love it. It's…well it’s us.” The ghoulette sniffled a bit and Mist felt her own eyes watering slightly. “I love you so much.”

She knew she wasn’t supposed to move but nothing was going to stop her from kissing Aurora at that moment. The ghoulette’s lips were soft like always, a hint of coffee still clinging to them from earlier. It was chaste at first but like usual it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for their mouths to open and their tongues to tangle together. Mist pulled away after a moment and cupped Aurora’s cheek, swiping at the few tears that had escaped with her fingers.

“You’re such a sap.” She yelped when Aurora playfully nipped at her thumb. “But I love you too.”

“I’m never going to get tired of you saying that.”

“Me calling you a sap or saying I love you?”

“Hmm, probably both.” Mist grinned as she settled back in the chair, placing her arm back where it had been resting before. “I’m almost done. Just going to add some color to the water.”

“Take your time.”

When Aurora started the tattoo gun up again Mist looked down at her lap, focusing on the silver ring the ghoulette had given her not too long ago. There was a single pink stone on the band, the same shade of pink as Aurora’s eyes. She still couldn’t believe it, her and Aurora were now engaged. They had gone and picked out a matching ring for Aurora too, but her stone was the same shade of blue as Mist’s eyes.

It was a moment she was never going to forget. They had trekked out into the woods a bit, heading towards the pond that was close to Mountain’s farmhouse. The whole town was awake and watching the skies, waiting for the aurora borealis to appear. It was an occurrence so rare that a big event had been made of it. People were camped out in their yards or in the various parks around town.

But Aurora had wanted to be away from everyone, claiming that she just wanted to have a nice private picnic together. It didn’t really matter to Mist, there wasn’t much Aurora could ask her to do that she’d say no to. Besides, a picnic next to the water with the aurora borealis above their heads? It was the perfect moment, a moment Mist would never forget for as long as she lived.

And it was a moment she had decided to memorialize with a tattoo. One that combined her favorite spot in town with her favorite moment of her life. One created by her favorite person too. Satanas, they were both sappy and gross.

Mist wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

#mist x aurora #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #mushy may 2024 #tales from lucifer's hollow #oakie's writing #nameless ghoulettes

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clementine-thedestroyer · 4 months

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Aurora Borealis - König x reader - Part 7

Series master post - Read on Ao3

Chapter specific tags/warnings: Big warnings for animal death, skinning/preparation, and consumption. Semi graphic, definitely something you should skip if you’re sensitive to that. The animal is a mink, by the way- in case that makes a difference.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

König comes back from his walk.

After you and Horangi had finished taking stock of the pantry, you’d moved on to the bed, curling up with a few extra blankets, a pen, and your notebook propped up against your thighs as you alternated between doodling, writing, and watching the little black and blue bird outside the window dance and chirp raspy little trills as it pecked at the bird seed in the feeder.

It was funny, this was the first hint of life beyond the cabin you’d seen to this point. Despite the marten that supposedly lived behind the cabin and the presence of the bird feeder, you hadn’t seen nor heard so much as a track in the snow or a bird song at dawn.

Just as you start to debate names for the small, round, and very fluffy bird bouncing around outside the window, its head shoots up and it goes silent. A moment later, the bird takes off.

You watch the bird leave, frowning and silently lamenting the loss of your companion courtesy of whatever must’ve spooked it. But you’re not given much time to dwell on it, because a few minutes later you hear the heavy clomp of boots climbing the wooden stairs to the porch, followed by the sound of König clumsily grabbing the wire brush hanging off the hook by the door and brushing the snow off of his books.

The front door swings open and König strides into the cabin with loud, heavy steps and heaving breaths that make you wonder how this man ever sneaks up on you. He’s carrying a small, brown ferret-like animal over his shoulder. Despite the pang of sympathy you feel for whatever poor animal he’s managed to catch, you find yourself sitting up and setting your journal to the side, curious about what he’s brought back to the cabin.

“You’re back.” Horangi states, not looking up from the book he’d been reading when König walked in.

König doesn’t respond immediately, breathing heavily as he yanks off his hat, gloves, and the neck warmer he had pulled up over his lower face. Underneath the gear, he looked plain run-ragged. The area between his cheek bones and brow was pink and wind burnt from the cold, while his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, creating a stark juxtaposition between the two areas of his face.

“There wasn’t much out.” König grunted, his boots- despite having the majority already knocked off- leaving a small trail of snow along the cabin floor as he walks towards the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping the small animal onto the counter before bracing himself against the surface and catching his breath.

Your face twists as you watch him drop the animal onto the counter and you make a mental note to disinfect the surface as soon as possible as you walk up to stand beside König.

“It’s getting too cold out.” Horangi chimes, although the two’s conversation fades to the background of your mind as you stare at the animal on the counter with wide eyes…

There was no blood. No bullet holes, no trap marks, nothing. Just the animal’s neck bent at a jarringly unnatural angle with a look of fear struck into its features. You can hardly hear the other two now- as if their voices were traveling through water instead of air. It felt like you were drowning, silent even as your body and mind screamed for air.

You took a gasping breath, snapping out of your daze and forcing yourself to turn away from the small animal’s corpse and push past the prickly feeling at the pit of your stomach.

You had to get out of here.

Horangi excuses himself to leave not long after König’s return, leaving the two of you alone for the night. When the door shuts behind Horangi, you find yourself sad he’s gone. It’s a strange bittersweet combination of relief from social interaction and of missing the closest thing you’ve had to company (not a friend. Firmly, not a friend.) since coming here.

As you hear Horangi’s footsteps recede, a heavier set approaches behind you. You feel König wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head with a content hum.

“Did Horangi take care of you?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and trying to covertly slip them up and under your shirt.

“Yes, it was fine.” You say, trying to keep the grumbling from your voice. You’re not looking to start the fighting so early.

König seems relieved at your answer, squeezing you close to him. “Good.” He says warmly, and you can feel the way he relaxes against you.

“Are you hungry? I can help you with dinner.” He offers, and even though you’d usually tell him no, you find yourself nodding.

He moves to face you, looking down at you with a wide smile.

“Alright, I’ll show you how to skin a mink.”

Any sense of being okay is immediately pulled from you as your stomach lurches and you shake your head no. You can feel the way the blood drains from your face at the reminder of what König had brought back from his hunt.

“Can’t you do that part?” You ask, beginning to worry at the skin around your cuticle without even realizing it.

König frowns. “It’s already dead, Schatz. You need to learn how to prepare meat- it’s an important skill.”

“Please?” You try again, trying desperately to keep yourself from sounding too pleading or desperate- while at the same time being exactly that.

Again, König frowns, tilting his head at you and furrowing his brow.

“But I want to teach you.” He says looking down at you with sad eyes that remind you of a begging puppy.

“Come on, we can sauté it up in a pan with some garlic and green beans, make a nice little stir fry- that sounds good, right Schatz?” He continues, giving you a smile as he tried to get you excited about dinner.

And with that, your fate is sealed.

He leads you to the kitchen, taking you loosely by the wrist until you’re both standing in front of the kitchen sink. You’re left to watch as he pulls his pocket knife out and checks the sharpness of the blade, positioning himself behind you so you’re trapped between him and the counter.

He grabs the animal- the mink, he’d said- and a cutting board from the drying rack, laying the animal onto the polished wood. Your stomach twists and you feel a pained expression cross your face as you watch him handle the small corpse. You can’t stop looking at it. There’s no blood, no trap line snared around its neck, nothing. Just its neck bent at an unnatural angle.

“How did you catch it…” You ask, jaw tensed and eye’s blown wide as König gets and opens a gallon plastic bag, setting to the side as he pulls a hunting knife you hadn’t even realized he’d had on him from a sheath at his hip.

“It was in a trap I set out.” König says simply.

“…there’s no snare-“

“I went ahead and reset the trap while I was there.”

“When did you set-“ Your breath hitches and you flinch when König gives your hand a squeeze, a silent warning to drop the subject. At the same time, he rests his chin on top of your head to look over you, his body caging you further against the counter even as you press back into him, trying to keep your distance from the cutting board.

“Don’t worry, Schatz. It didn’t suffer.” He says, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he uses the other to turn the small animal onto its back.

“First, you cut from the….”

König’s voice fades into the background as you watch him start to skin the animal. Your eyes are open, but you’re not really seeing. The only thing you can focus on is how wide and scared the animal’s eyes are.

Blood blooms a deep red against the animal’s fur under König’s blade. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, feelings of sorrow, loss, and pity for the poor animal that had lost its life and the swell of your own discomfort at how its neck was twisted to the side.

The whole time, you’re forced to watch- to stand there and listen as he moves slowly and purposely, explaining what he’s doing as he does it.

You gag violently at the sound that’s made when König pulls back the skin, seperating it from the animal’s muscles in a single jerk. Your entire body rolls with the force of it and you worry you’re about to vomit.

König frowns, instantly lifting his arm so you can slip out from between him and the counter- which you do, promptly.

Before he can say anything, you’re by the sink, washing your hands under water that’s so hot it scalds and ignoring the confused, almost hurt look that König was giving you.

“I’ll start on the rest of dinner. The green beans are in the freezer, right?” You ask before he can question your reaction, not waiting for him to respond as you squat down, finding the bag of frozen string beans and putting them on the counter.

You go about collecting the rest of what you’ll need, keeping your head down and avoiding looking at the increasingly bloody scene atop what had formerly been your favorite cutting board.

Shit. You’ll have to sanitize the whole thing. God knows how many times you’ll have to wash it before using it for anything other than meat again. Actually, maybe that one can just stay as only for meat.

Every once and a while, you catch König watching you from across the kitchen. He’s always got the same frown when you do- stuck somewhere between confused and disappointed.

To you, it’s quickly become clear that you’re not going to be able to handle any meat König brings back from hunting, but you doubt König will let you easily avoid the task.

You take a large glass bowl from the highest shelf, mixing worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, oil, rice vinegar, and a few spices you think will go well with the combination as a marinade. Once you’re all done, you push it towards König.

“Put the meat in here.” You say, pointing to the mixture and looking up at him, making eye contact to make sure he actually hears you. “It needs to sit in there for twenty minutes while I cook the green beans.”

“Of course, Schatz.” König says, nodding as a bit of the worry for you fades from his face and he goes back to preparing the meat- which, by now, he was almost done with. He had one side of the cutting board occupied with a pile of semi-uniformly sized chunks of meat, the scraps and bones collected in a gallon ziplock bag, the pelt set off to the side, and an increasingly smaller pile of meat to be cut.

The two of you work in silence as he finishes, putting the meat into the marinade before cleaning up his mess as you gather the rest of your ingredients.

While the selection of canned, frozen, and dried goods was wide, there was a bit of a learning curve in going from using something like fresh carrots in your cooking to canned carrots- especially when you were trying to avoid them tasting like they were ever canned in the first place.

For the most part, it was fine. Frozen vegetables were usually indistinguishable fresh ones once cooked, and despite your initial reservations about using jarred garlic in your cooking, it worked just as well as the fresh stuff. You also couldn’t deny that using an eighth of a bag of diced, frozen onions was much easier than having to dice half an onion yourself.

But thank god for the large variety of spices. If you’d had anything less than the healthy cupboard full you’d been blessed with, you doubt there’d be much hope- especially when it came to using canned foods in your cooking. You wouldn’t call yourself an expert at this point, but you’d like to think what you’d made so far was palatable, at the very least.

It had all tasted fine to you so far, at least. And König never complained, although that may be because he’d eat just about anything put in front of him- especially if you made it.

You combined garlic, vegetable oil, salt, and the beans in a pan, stirring them often as the oil popped and sizzled from the heat and the frozen green beans de thawed and started to soften, gaining a bit of color from the heat as you kept the pan’s contents from burning.

By the time König had cleaned up his area and taken the pelt outside to do… something or other with it, the meat had been marinating long enough that you had started a bit of oil, salt, and onions browning in a second pan for König to add the meat to when he returned.

It was easier now to touch or handle the meat (not that you wanted too) now that it was, frankly, not attached to the creature that it came from. But you still left it for König to handle, waiting for him to move the meat from the marinade to the pan once he got back- washing his hands and putting the dirty bowl in the sink before returning to your side to stir the meat and cook with you.

For a moment, both of you stand in silence with only the sounds of wooden spoons against metal and popping oil filling the room. The tension is only broken when König pulls you against him by your waist and leans towards you, sighing contentedly when you don’t pull away.

You’re conflicted with yourself for not doing so, but not enough to make you pull away from him.

“It smells lovely, Schatz.” König says, his fingers starting to rub up and down at your waist as he speaks. “I’m sure it’ll taste amazing.”

You nod idly in response, continuing to move the green beans and garlic around in the simmering oil of your pan as König does the same with his.

The silence that falls is comfortable, and things go remarkably without conflict as the two of you work together to finish dinner.

Dinner goes without a fight too- with the two of you sitting at the table and enjoying the meal relatively peacefully. You poke around the meat on your plate, trying- and struggling- to detach the image of it from the animal it had come from. König however, has no similar hesitancies- shoveling food into his mouth and complimenting your cooking constantly in between mouthfulls of food.

After you eat, you start on the dishes- begrudgingly thankful when König stays and helps to clear the table and clean the kitchen from cooking.

For the most part, you’re silent, while König spends the time talking at you. Mostly about his new plans to expand the porch and to build an overhang so the two of you could enjoy the weather once it gets warmer.

It’s somewhat comforting in it’s simplicity- because even as König babbles about his apparent new found hobby of home improvement, you can fall into a rythm with the dishes; clear, scrub, rinse, dry- all while giving König the occasional hum or nod in agreement that keep him happy to drone on and on instead of bothering you.

You’re too absorbed in the task to realize König sneaking up behind you until it’s too late.

You yelp at the feeling of ice-cold hands on your stomach, slapping his hands away and shooting him a nasty glare.

“What? Come be my little hand warmer!” He teases, laughing and starting to come after you.

“No!” You growl, taking another step back, your voice lacking all of the playful energy of König’s.

König doesn’t miss a beat, wiggling his fingers in a mockingly menacing manner as he chases after you.

You draw your line in the sand, and he always ignores it- crossing it and trampling your wishes like a toddler ripping up his mom’s garden without the slightest understanding of what he’s doing wrong.

“König, stop.” You try again, your tone stern and serious and your eyes narrowed in a decisively unamused manner. You can feel your heart beating through your chest, an adrenaline rush readying you to run and squirm away from him for however long it takes for him to get the hint that you don’t want to play fight- because just saying “no” doesn’t work- not anymore.

For all the times he’s missed (or ignored) your clear no’s and disinterest, he graciously recognizes this one, dropping his hands and slouching his back- pouting, you realize.

“Why not? My hands are cold, and you’re warm.” He says.

“Because I don’t want to.” You insist, crossing your arms and staring down the grown man pouting in front of you with all the intensity you can muster.

“Alright, Schatz.” He sighs, continuing to pout but blissfully dropping the subject, flopping down dramatically on the couch and grabbing the book he’d been recently reading from the coffee table.

For a moment, the two of you sit (well, you stand and König lays) in silence. You find anger biting at the edges of your already strained patience at how König splays out across the couch, leaving you to either stand or move his feet if you want to sit down.

You don’t… but that doesn’t change much of anything.

After a moment, König lowers his book, watching you over the top as you stand- admittedly- somewhat passive aggressively across the living room.

“Would you like to go with me on a walk, Schatz? I would like to show you something.” He says- the fact that he was pouting completely forgotten.

You stand slack mouthed, watching him with wide eyes as you’re caught completely off guard by the question.

You catch yourself though, nodding quickly- and oh boy do you nod. Leaving the cabin sounds fantastic. You’d do just about anything to be allowed to leave it, even for just a moment. You’d been cooped up long enough that even if you’d likely never be more than an arm’s length away from König, you imagined that just getting to go outside at all would do wonders for the anxiety and constant feelings of being on-edge that you carried. Hell, if you couldn’t get any space from König, maybe this way you’d at least be on a longer leash.

König watches your response with a grin, setting his book to the side before standing up and slapping his hands against his knees with an air of finality.

“Alright then, let’s get you dressed.”

#fem!reader #könig x reader #könig x fem!reader #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig #könig x fem reader #fem reader

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cleolinda · 5 months

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Weekend links, May 12, 2024

My posts

Your head is hurting and your wifi is out because the biggest solar flare/geomagnetic storm in 20 years hit this weekend. I didn’t actually get to see the aurora borealis, but apparently it really did come down as far as Alabama.

I admit that this was an extremely glib reply. But like, Athena specifically doesn’t like people claiming they’re better than her, so you can imagine the carnage when you throw in two more goddesses as well.

(I feel like that post happened a month ago. This week has felt so ungodly long.)

Reblogs of interest

Hot Vintage Lady Bracket: Round 6. Eight polls. Poll Mod immediately chose violence and put Marilyn Monroe against Hedy Lamarr. Since Ava Gardner is out (actual shockers: Greta Garbo and Rita Hayworth are also gone), I was going to say “I’m just Chaos Elmo Flames Dot Gif about it all” but now I’m just scared.

(Why would you ask us, a hot vintage poll blog, this)

Dracula Daily is in full swing again, and you can eat along!

The Met Gala was honestly decent this year! I reblogged only (some of) the ones I liked, including some of the construction details and a lot of Zendaya, although my favorite might have been Rebecca Ferguson with the crows.

A while back and not what he wore to the Gala, but: Lil Nas X looking beautiful in a rose garden.

Hozier Watch 2024: I really thought there wasn’t going to be anything else and then he was like, “Oh I should probably put out a video for my accidental international #1.” I am entirely disgruntled that he was here last weekend and I couldn’t go.

From the top of the week, Drake vs. Kendrick Lamar: An explainer. Also, Kendrick recs.

MrBeast is living in a joyless hell of his own making, and I at least understand now why he has always freaked me out.

So anyway noted plagiarist James Somerton is alive and well on Twitter, where he’s... well, he sure is there. The words “hole posting” are involved. Another explainer for you.

Lynda Carter proves she’s on Tumblr

We put our faith in BLAST HARDCHEESE

Peace and love on planet Earth and also in the Uber

“thinking about middle aged gay love is like. we have a future and we have time”

While there are merits to this concern, “Writers should all clown on Americans by making up places in THEIR country” doesn’t really sting when we’re all like “Yeah we love doing that!!!” I personally give you all permission to make up as many wackadoodle state names as you want. You can have West Mainolina for free.

Meanwhile in Alabama: Bad, bad Leroy Brown, the baddest fish in the whole damn town

RIP Walnut the crane: “The Bride”

Dinosaurs are terrible lizards

Teaching consent is a many-faceted thing

Become ungovernable: grill edition

Video

Galadriel’s opening Fellowship of the Ring monologue, but it’s the Deep South (U.S.). “Across the county line in Mordor, the Dark Lord Sauron made his self another ring outta everything mean the devil put in him.” Absolutely pitch perfect.

Also pitch perfect: Wellness influencers with terrible advice

“Mooom, the chocolate alchemist has an accomplice now!”

I will always reblog cheetah sounds

The Collage Atlas: a hand-drawn game on Steam

The sacred texts

South Canada. South South Canada. Canada A Bit to the Left

I think I’ve listed this compilation of parody lyrics (”I’m sorry Ms. Jackson/I am four eels”) before, but there’s more now

“Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue”

Personal tags of the week

Scrungly and, as a related topic, Belphegor the Devon rex kitten.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

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noobsomeexagerjunk · 1 year

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Personal QSMP design hcs and interpretations (PART 2)

9. q!Maximus

human. probably.

more or less the CC in the blockman-cubito's clothes

Ordo Theoritas symbol is on his headband he usually wears

a friend and follower of Sapo Peta, through him learning the ability to charm people into perceiving him differently (Biden) as well as perform minor shapeshifting (Valentina). This comes with the price of occasional possession by Sapo Peta himself (see JuanaFlippa trial)

has tattoos that mark this connection that glow whenever he exerts significant stress. can only otherwise be seen under blacklight (like in Las Casualonas!)

Max paints matching markings on Trump everytime they see each other to bless his son with protection. After Trump's death, he permanently marked his son's gravesite.

Actually he has a habit of doing this to things dear to him. He has debated placing said markings on SOFIA but decided against it just in case

keeps dandelions in his pockets in honor of Trump

Has sustained scars after being attacked by the binary entity

10. q!Philza

quite literally an angel of death. one of Goddess Misstrixin's many dedicated servants. in this universe they're in an open marriage

winged humanoid. has pointed ears, kaleidoscope irises, and a voice he can magically augment and shift to his will (speak w/ increased reverb)

he wears those beachy, vacation silk kimonos in his signature dark mint green color, alongside a matching bucket hat. under that is a sleeveless black swim suit with enchanting table embroidery

his wings are bird-like, black with a few iridescent feathers that glow red when he goes full angel. he's had carved emerald piercings placed on them for decoration and tribute to a friend long gone after getting clipped. if he cant properly fly for now, he might as well indulge a little

magical carved rubies are all over his person, shaped to resemble hardcore hearts. these glow when he fights or is about to do something powerful

Chayanne has one of these hardcore heart rubies and has incorporated it in his wear to match his papa

11. q!Forever

humanoid of unidentifiable species. perceived as human

Looks human minus the pointy ears and visible canines. Also demonstrates superhuman stamina and endurance, so uh

Dyed his hair blonde for the cosplay, with brunette roots showing

He has a rainbow of beach shorts and casual slippers to wear

very hairy man, refuses to shave

has an organic and extensive skin care routine; Richas likes the hugs from his soft skin

his tears are full of glitter and taste like soda pop

12. q!Baghera

anthromorphic duck person; the vibes are disney ducks crossed with big bird from seasame street

has a large messy feathery floof on her head stylized to resemble the CC's own hair

MC skin's hat + matching athleisure fashion. she is always drippy

some of her feathers are dyed to match the colors of her hat as accents

smells like the artificial fruit smells found in candy

Gave one of her feathers to Pomme as a token of remembrance

13. q!Missa

player equivalent to a skeleton. is a mismatched arrangement of regular bones and wither skeleton bones.

the mismatch is why he can be quite clumsy

under those robes, he is being held together by raw magic and wither rose vines. he has short black hair.

his bones have flower and butterfly engraving that glow aurora borealis colors under blacklight or when he's about to fight

fond of somewhat street hoodies and sweaters over draping robes.

there are sneakers under those robes, wander over yonder style

a lot of the drapery is held together by armor, an aesthetic Chayanne picked up for his own wear

the spaces between the bones double as extensions of his natural inventory space; they make good spots for hiding secret weapons!

14. q!Fit

human man who has seen it all. a mortal with the soul of an immortal

he is covered in scars from his previous adventures in 2b2t

currently in his clean shaven era, which includes not only being bald but shaving the most of his body hair to the point where his muscles sparkle like his head

A practical dresser but is a slut for fancy animal furs. Ramón shares this love for furs as well

Works out in his gym and is visibly getting more swole by the day

Loves showing off, especially if it involves Ramón's own work

15-16. q!Tazercraft (q!Pac & q!Mike)

Both human. Do not separate!

Pac and Mike are soul-bonded but they forgot they about it upon coming onto the island. (they also forgot the magical perks that come with that) This doesn't negate their package-deal relationship in anyway

Experimentation in the QSMP Chume Labs has made them increasingly susseptible to Murphy's Law for some reason. The island itself is not helping either

Pac likes to dress up while Mike will literally pick up the nearest piece of clothing. On occasion they will swap clothes

Despite the above, Mike is usually in safety gear more often than Pac during labwork, especially after the sting of Richarlyson's first life loss

They both have a picture of Richas in their pockets to look at whenever they're at work

They have telepathic communication powers but only with each other. Sometimes they can be caught just staring at each other when they are really arguing in each other's heads

17. q!Etoiles

anthromorphic cucumber!

the pattern of green on his body is composed of tiny little stars that are galaxy-like

has hair, a beard and glasses cartoon character style. He also has rubberhose limbs that can muscle up when he's fighting

under the glasses, his eyes are smudged over with a smoky powder that extends to resemble a blind-fold bandana mask thing. The eyes glow white during fights

wears the clothes of the blockman-cubito + armor

His armor is engraved with star shapes and space imagery

While in love with the thrill of adventure, he loves talking culture with Pomme just as much

part 1!

#qsmp #qsmp headcanons

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