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sp1cy-t0ss · 1 year

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Antares

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45534721

The first thing Nightwing hears upon regaining consciousness is ominous chanting. A man’s voice rings out over the rest, ranting about an Eternal King, infinite power, and -- oh boy -- sacrifices. He tunes it out to assess the situation.

He’s in an old warehouse. Robin’s here too, looking even more annoyed than Nightwing feels, and both of them have their hands and ankles bound in rope. His comm is on silent, just as he left it, like an idiot. The ranting man and his followers in matching robes are gathered around a ritual circle in the middle of the floor. Yeah, that tells him all he needs to know. They need to get out, now.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly when the leader finishes his speech and turns to them.

“So,” the man asks with a cruel smile. “Which of you ‘heroes’ will have the honor of bringing our Lord to this plane?”

“I will.” Robin’s voice is sharp, unyielding.

The man is obviously surprised to receive an actual answer to his taunt, but obliges. He pulls Robin away without another word.

“What?! No! Robin, you can’t--” Nightwing’s protest is cut off with a punch to the stomach from one of the robed lackeys.

“I have my reasons, Nightwing; it must be me.” Robin’s face reveals nothing, but he gives a subtle hand signal: I have a plan.

Nightwing forces himself to calm down. They’ll get out of this. He just has to trust his Robin. While everyone’s eyes are off him, he quietly works at the amateur knots.

The leader drags Robin into the circle without a fight. He raises a jeweled dagger, intentions clear...

But Robin is faster. He bites his own wrist, hard, and spits his blood into the circle. The runes light up in terrible Lazarus green, and Robin pushes himself upright with a malicious grin.

The lead cultist scrambles back from the circle and into a deep bow. The chanting stops as his minions follow suit. Robin continues to look far too smug for his situation. Nightwing feels a headache coming on somewhere under his renewed panic.

This is his plan?!

There’s a blinding flash of light. When the spots clear from Nightwing’s vision, the Eternal King is floating in the circle, mere feet from the bound Robin.

The Eternal King isn’t quite the grotesque horror he expected. Their body is a glittering black void, a sleek humanoid shadow with misty white hair and bright, bright eyes of toxic green. A cold fog rolls off of their body in waves.

“Antares,” the shadow rumbles, and Nightwing feels static thrum in his bones with the sound. The room is painfully cold, but the King doesn’t seem aggressive yet. Maybe they really can bargain their way out of this mess.

Robin doesn’t flinch. He looks the Eternal King right in the eyes, utterly fearless, and smirks. “Hello, Beloved.”

What?

The King stares silently, floating closer. For a long moment, no one moves. No one speaks.

“My lord, does the sacrifice please you?” The ringleader cuts in, standing up with a greedy gleam in his eyes.

Something in the air changes as the King turns toward the man. Something cold, electric, heavy under the skin. Nightwing suppresses a shiver as he works through the last of the rope.

“You d̵̢̛a̵̼̽ṙ̴͎e̵͙̐.”

The leader pales and falls to his knees. “My Lord, if this offering is insufficient, we have another--”

The King s̴̱̖̺̺̓͊̕̕ć̵͇͇͔̈r̴̥͐e̸̥̬͌̂̌̊a̴̭̔̓̀̔͘m̵̯͑̋͌͠s̵̗̤̻̭̍̿, a furious howl that blurs Nightwing’s vision and claws his ears. The sound is everywhere, driving him to his knees. Growing shadows seem to absorb his little brother just as Nightwing realizes he’s blacking out.

They’re falling, they’re falling someone help they’re screaming he’s screaming make it stop dead on impact blood and bones make it stop make it STOP--

When he comes back to himself, it’s quiet. Nightwing blinks tears from his eyes, gasping for frigid air that pierces his lungs like knives. The floor outside the circle is covered in blood splatter. The cultists have all been struck down, and many aren’t moving.

But he’s not looking at them.

Because the monster is coiled around Robin like a snake, eyes burning as it surveys the room. Robin seems unharmed for now, but he has to get his baby brother away from that thing.

He steps forward, and those endless green eyes lock onto him. It snarls at his approach, revealing multiple rows of teeth. Claws subtly tighten on Robin’s shoulders. Nightwing sinks into a combat stance, and the creature braces itself to leap.

Pure, animal instinct screams that Nightwing won’t survive this fight.. It doesn’t matter. He’ll give his all like he always has, and Robin can escape. The others will find a way to take it down. He just has to buy time.

“Dove, it’s alright.”

To Nightwing’s amazement, the creature freezes. It turns to look at Robin, warbling in apparent confusion before turning back to Nightwing with a hiss.

Robin grabs its face in both hands and forces it to look at him. “No. That’s Nightwing, remember? He will not harm us. I am safe. We are safe.” His voice is steady, soothing as he gently presses their foreheads together. A spark of awareness slowly returns to ‘Dove’s’ eyes.

“Come back to me.”

The monster sags in Robin’s grip, slowly folding in on itself until a nearly-human teen with snowy white hair is left floating gently in its place.

Robin smiles, gentle and shockingly warm. “There you are.”

‘Dove’ is shaking. Their eyes are locked on Robin, as though he’s the only thing in their universe. “Antares,” they breathe, before wrapping Robin in a tight hug.

Robin briefly looks to Dick, gesturing toward the cultists. He then returns his attention to the distraught being, resting his chin on their head and both hands on their back. The obvious dismissal makes Nightwing uneasy, but the kid has a point. They'll just have to check him for hypnosis or mind control back at the Cave.

Now that Nightwing is actually looking at the cultists, their injuries are horrific. Deep lacerations, stab wounds, frostbite, severed limbs...none of them seem likely to die with medical treatment, but every last one is maimed.

The ringleader is worst of all. His eyes are gouged out, and his hands ripped off and cauterized by the same unearthly frost that burns scattered marks into his skin. An unfamiliar symbol has been clawed into his chest.

Nightwing looks back to the circle, where Dove is quietly sobbing. Their face is tucked securely into Robin’s neck, and Nightwing hears whispers of I was scared and can’t lose you too.

This is the same person?

By the time the cultists are all secured and the police have been called, Dove seems to have calmed down. Time to play the diplomat. Again.

Damn, maybe Steph has a point about Eldest Daughter Syndrome.

“I, uh, hate to interrupt, but we should probably get out of here, yeah? GCPD will be here in a couple minutes,” he proposes with a friendly smile.

Dove wipes their eyes. “Right.” Then they look around the room and wince. “Uhm, sorry you? Had to see that? I...panicked. You’re okay though, right? Not hurt or anything?” The question is disarmingly earnest, and there’s nothing but concern in their eyes. Hm.

“Nah, not a scratch,” Nightwing dismisses. Then he remembers he’s apparently talking to a king. “Thank you for saving Robin, Your Highness,” he adds with a bow of his head.

“Nuh-uh, no titles. Gross.” The King makes a face, then smiles with renewed cheer. “Call me Phantom. He/him, ghost, and general pain in the ass, at your service!” He floats higher and punctuates his announcement with a midair flip. “You might as well know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot now.”

Crap. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Nightwing ventures.

‘Phantom’ exchanges a meaningful look with Robin. Nightwing barely has time to register the mischief on both their faces before Robin pulls the being down into a kiss.

A deep kiss now. Really deep. Yeah, they’ve definitely forgotten he’s here.

When they finally separate, Robin looks quite satisfied. Phantom, however, sticks out a forked tongue and scrunches his face. “Blech, blood. What did you...” His eyes land on Robin’s still-bloody wrist, then the droplets still in the circle.

“You didn’t.” A grin creeps across his face. “You have me on soul speed dial and you still hijacked a whole-ass summoning!”

“Tt. I was making a point.” Robin crosses his arms.

Phantom cackles. “You are literally the most dramatic person I’ve ever met!” he crows.

Robin raises an eyebrow and gestures to the warehouse full of mangled cultists. Phantom opens his mouth to retort, but it’s at this point that Nightwing finally manages to pull his jaw off the floor and speak.

“Robin,” he says with deliberate calm. “What the fuck.”

And then they hear police sirens. Fantastic.

“Crap. Don’t worry, I got it!” Phantom declares as he rips a green hole in existence. Robin is unfazed, which is rapidly getting less and less surprising.

A woman in the corner stirs. Phantom makes a ‘one moment’ gesture before he stalks over and yanks her forward with a growl. “You’ve kept your tongue for a reason. Spread the word: Robin is mine.” (Robin stands taller, obviously pleased by that extremely concerning statement.) The woman nods frantically, and Phantom drops her to the ground.

Without further preamble, Phantom zips back over and shoves both vigilantes through the rip.

Just like that, they’re all in Damian’s bedroom. The two boys immediately sit together on the edge of the bed, while Dick remains standing. Dick doesn’t even know where to begin, so he can only give a helpless ‘why’ sort of gesture. Thankfully, Damian seems to take pity on him.

“Richard, this insufferable fool is my Beloved. His name is Danny, and he is seventeen.” Then he smirks. “You may refer to him as High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms; The Tyrant’s Bane, True Balance, Son Of Stars, Pride of Time, Death’s Chosen--”

The ghost groans dramatically, flopping across Damian’s lap like a wet noodle. “Oh my gawd, Dames, why would you tell him that?”

"It is very important that Richard recognizes your position and authority.” Damian says, not even trying to sound convincing.

Danny reaches up and pushes at Damian’s face. It brings to mind a pair of cats, especially with Damian doing his best to look annoyed instead of fond. “Betrayal! I want a divorce!”

That’s the last straw. Dick chokes on his own spit and has to thump his chest a few times to breathe right again. With monumental effort, he manages to wheeze out a strangled “Are you MaRriEd?!”

Danny tries to sputter out a reply, but Dick is distracted by Damian laughing. It’s a low, light sound, with no attempt made to disguise it.

“Of course not,” Damian says. He cards a hand through Danny’s hair, the other boy sighing contently and looking up at him with adoring neon eyes. “We've only courted for seven months now. It will be another three years before we wed.”

Dick is just. Gonna ignore that last bit. For his own sanity. “Wait, how did you keep a whole boyfriend secret for seven months? In this family?”

“Bribery.” “Threats.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Babs and Duke probably know then.

“Cool, good to know. One more question.” Well, more like a billion, but he may as well start with an icebreaker before the inevitable interrogation. Besides, it’s a big brother's duty to embarrass his siblings. “Why Dove?”

Damian says nothing, but his deep blush is almost audible.

“Because I’m cute and fluffy!” Danny chirps.

“Hardly,” Damian scoffs. “It’s because you are raucously annoying and constantly crash into windows.”

Literally everything about this situation is baffling, but Danny looks so offended that Dick can’t help but laugh.

“You lying asshole!” Danny screeches.

Damian turns to Dick. “He attempted to use a grapple three times and broke eleven windows; four of them with his face. I have videos.” Danny gasps, the two start bickering, and Dick is left to his thoughts once more.

Even as the pair separate to point fingers and trade increasingly creative insults, their body language is completely relaxed. As much as Dick is panicking about a powerful undead monarch around their family, Damian is happy. He has been for months, now that Dick thinks about it. He’s been loosening up a little, leaving the manor more, and even mentioning a few new friends (though he refuses to use the word.)

Whoever or whatever Danny is, he’s been good for him.

“Well,” Dick cuts in, interrupting an inventive declaration about overripe cheese. “We’ll obviously need to talk about this. But for what it’s worth,” he smiles. “I’m happy for you, Baby Bat.”

With that said, Dick walks out of the bedroom. Danny gives him a grateful smile, and a quiet thank you, Richard can be heard as he closes the door behind him.

Dick walks away at a leisurely pace until he reaches the end of the hallway, where he promptly breaks into a sprint toward the Cave. Checking the Batcomputer to make sure Damian hasn’t noticed the planted bug yet, he turns on his comms. Unsurprisingly, the entire family is yelling and demanding answers.

Well, at least he won’t be the only one having a heart attack tonight.

#dp x dc #dead serious #they're 16 and 17 #danny says he wants a divorce at every mild inconvenience #danny has dozens of titles and damian has memorized every last one entirely to annoy him #they alternate between adorable cats and those heckling muppets #spice writes #dc x dp #danny x damian

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 1 month

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ACITHYCS.

“a crack in the heart you call stone” (john wick/fem reader)

Running away from John Wick is never a good idea. TW: nsfw, noncon, dead dove, abuse, violence, power dynamics except the reader doesn’t have any power, smacking, spanking, choking, rough, awful shit. Your assassin sweetheart is not sweet in this. He’s fucked in the head, but I mean it is your fault.

It was a really, really, really.

Really.

Bad fucking idea.

Bad fucking idea to turn cottontail and run away in the night.

Run from him.

But you did, didn’t you? Maybe because you didn’t realize what a stupid decision you were making, maybe because you were too scared to stay, maybe because you didn’t know what else to do.

Maybe because running away from monsters is the standard of sane and you needed to prove that you were not crazy.

“That’s bullshit,” you know he’d say, “your decisions are your own and you will deal with their consequences.”

And, oh fuck, you haven’t heard his voice in so long - that sweet honey heroin aphrodisiac infused growl - but somehow little drops of it still sit sticky inside your ears.

Your cotton panties feel uncomfortable and clingy, and you have to squirm several times in your seat to pull fabric from damp folds.

That’s the worst part, the one that makes you want to put a 9 mm barrel in your mouth because surely - guaranteed - you’re sick in the head for almost - ha, who are you kidding - for definitely - wanting him to find you.

Insane after all, even through the trouble to prove otherwise.

You shouldn’t get out of the cab, you shouldn’t walk upstairs to your apartment, you shouldn’t open the already unlocked door, you shouldn’t start curling your toes and burning when you see him casually sitting at your dining table, drinking a cold beer and eating leftover pizza. Like he just belongs here, in the life you picked specifically void of him.

He ignores you, favoring the newspaper clutched in his fist, munching and relaxing and as handsome as any husband should strive to be.

You take the chair opposite from him and press your thighs together in anticipation of that involuntary, awful clench of your cunt when his broody eyes meet yours. You try to rest your hands on the table, but pull them back into your lap when you notice they are visibly shaking.

“John.” You’re surprised you can talk through the saliva filling your mouth.

“Hello, honey,” he says, then kicks the table out of the way and muffles your scream with the loud crash into the kitchen counter. No barrier between the two of you now - really, you’re a fucking idiot to think anything could keep this beautiful, horrifying human wrecking ball away from you - and he fists the loose fabric dress over your tummy and tugs you forward.

“You know what happens now?” He asks, terrifying you with a smile.

You blink owlishly up at him, tears globbing on your bottom lashes, body shaking violently, and ask: “wh-what?”

Instead of answering, he grabs your throat, takes you off your feet and slams you - not gently - against the wall. Picture frames smash to the ground, scatter glass over the linoleum. One minute you’re breathing, and the next you’re wondering what delicious air even tastes like.

You claw at his hands, face swelling up and turning a shade of beautiful blue that grabs his cocks attention - the length of him fattens up against your tummy and he grinds into your soft, plump skin, hard and unforgiving.

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap.

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you.

“John, please,” you whimper through grit teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward.

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain.

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into you and you let out a cry, proving his point. You are pathetic.

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.”

“John, I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, babydoll?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter.

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip.

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

Fat wet tears run down your cheeks and puddle on the counter. You can’t help but feel partially responsible for the crazed, lightless black fire in his eyes. The way he’s completely gone and fucked in the head. No, not partially. This is all your fault. You drove him to madness, left him with a broken heart that turned black and rotten over time, and now you’re gonna deal with the repercussions.

He grinds up against your cunt and ass, so smashed in that you feel his plump cock head chafing your clit. He tugs on your hair to bring your face off the counter. “My little cry baby’s gonna be sobbing a lot more often, now.” He tsks as if disappointed.

He slaps your ass for a good bit, alternating each cheek, using the tips of his fingers to make the sting unbearable. You almost move your hands to cover the raw red skin, but he tugs your head back harshly in warning.

You whimper and put your hands back on the cool counter, wishing it was your ass instead - the tissue is on fire, a new level of burning every time his hand meets your flesh.

His palm is worse than his fingertips. It’s a throbbing pain that shoots over your back, legs, and tummy, and he gets you screaming with a big, ruthless swing. Screaming and crying and kicking your feet and biting your lip hard enough to taste pennies.

Sharp slaps on your plump little cunt turn you into a sobbing, begging wreck of a human. Then, he pulls your panties to the side and pinches your burning labia, tugging and stretching, making it snap and swell.

“She missed my cock, huh? How many times did you try and fail to fill her up?”

He unzips himself and pushes his pants and boxers down, then jams his massive cock into your unprepared hole and you wail into the counter.

“How could you fucking do this to this to her?” he laments with a snarl, thrusting into you with shattering, slow slams.

You try and nudge yourself onto the counter to get his raging tip away from your cervix, but he pulls you farther down on him instead and starts taking what he wants, hard and unforgiving, hair fisted in his hand so that your back arches for his cock to pound deeper into you.

“John. Please. I can- can’t. Fuck. Too much. It hurts.”

He smacks your ass with palm again, only this time latching to your skin, fisting a pound of flesh and fat. That familiar flop flop flop of your body accommodating his intrusion tells you that you’re soaking his dick and making it easier for him to fuck you harder. Traitorous fucking whore.

“What did I say?” He asks you, that poised voice cracking into growls and grunts and groans, slick with impending orgasm.

You don’t answer soon enough, and he digs further into your ass with blunt nails. You feel like he’s going to rip the meat right off your body.

“Yes, John.” But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let up. He gets meaner, lifting your feet up off the ground and your head impossibly higher in the air, making so the only thing holding you up is his brutal cock. You feel fucking impaled.

You’re helpless, trapped, humiliated, and all you can do is take the rough slap of his pelvis against your abused skin. When he reaches down and pushes his fingers into your swollen lips to find your clit, you can’t help but hate yourself for enjoying this - this consuming fire spreading, overtaking, the choice to orgasm from this brutality ripped away from you as he rubs and fucks you toward blinding, white hot release.

He leans over you, puts one foot on the counter beside your ass to give him an impossibly deeper angle that reads like his cock is in your womb.

With all senses overwhelmed by excruciating pleasure - an impending orgasm that’s going that’s going to wreck you - the only thing you can really do is cry and take it until he decides to baste your burning cervix in cum.

It’s immediately spurting from you, coating your thighs, his legs, dripping pearly rivulets onto the floor. He replaces his dick with two fingers, wrenching away any hope of release, gathers some fluid and brings it up to the only unstained place - your asshole. He costs the outer tissue, pushes two fingers in and curls them down, rubs at your delicate insides harshly.

“Think you can handle my cock in your ass, Mrs. Wick?” He leaves two fingers inside your anus and pushes his thumb into your snapping, gaping, runny cunt. You push back onto his finger, trying to fuck the almost orgasm free from your aching hole.

John snorts as if to laugh at this whorish attempt.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you two choices: I shove my dick into your ass and fuck it as hard as I want til’ I cum again. Or. I spend a few hours prepping you to take my cock. What do you think?”

“Need a break,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks in shiny rivulets.

He smacks your thigh. “That wasn’t an option, honey.”

“Okay… okay.” Your frantic, hissing tone makes him smile for the first time in a long while… For the first time since you ran away from him and left a sobbing, drunk, blood hungry mess of a man on the kitchen floor; surrounded by glass and blood and splintered wood, screaming, smashing everything in the house to tiny pieces. You don’t know how many people have died terrible deaths for the absence of this spongey, tight, beautiful pussy - Christ, he even dabbled in torture just to see if it would get him off like you could.

But he’s going to spend the rest of your life reminding you - reminding you that if you ever fucking leave again he’ll kill everyone until you have no one left but him.

“Ten seconds and then I’m picking for you,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear.

He has to press his weight into your hips to keep them from rocking down onto his fingers - the ones he’s got shoved up to the hilt of his hand inside you, teasing your front wall with languid little rubs.

The resigned, pathetic defeat in your tone warms his heart. “Second option.”

“Which one was that again?”

“Prep me.”

He nips your cartilage with his teeth, wrenching a little beaten whine from deep in your throat, the loss of his bully fingers making you clench and spasm and writhe.

He picks you up, cradles you to his warm heartbeat, kisses your head. You can’t help it, you fold into his embrace, cling to the John you once knew, hands clutching at the lapels of his suit in some desperate attempt to find comfort.

“I’m sorry, John.” You choke on whimpers, smothering your tears into his collar.

“Oh, babydoll,” he coos, smoothing your sore scalp. “No you’re not. But you will be.”

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #yandere john wick

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cutielando · 5 months

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let me help you ~ rafe cameron

my masterlist

You knew Rafe had a problem with drugs. Everyone knew he had a problem except for Rafe himself.

Or maybe he knew and just didn't want to do anything about it. One of the 2.

All that you knew was that you couldn't deal watching him destroy his health anymore. He needed help, and you were going to make sure he was going to get it.

"Babe?" you called out as you entered the Cameron mansion.

Everything was silent and there was nobody around the downstairs area.

"Rafe!" you called out again, slowly going up the stairs.

Once you arrived upstairs, you saw Rafe coming out of his father's office clutching a watch in his hand.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, sniffling and trying to hide the watch from you.

"We had plans, but you weren't answering your phone" you trailed off, your heart breaking when you took in his figure. "Babe, what's going on?"

"Nothing, everything's fine" he came closer to you and took your face in his hands, planting a quick peck on your lips and a longer kiss on your forehead.

"I know when you're lying, Rafe. Please don't shut me out" you whispered, closing your eyes.

You couldn't bear to look at him.

"You're going to be mad at me" he mumbled, looking anywhere but your eyes now.

"I'm not. Just please tell me what's going on. I hate seeing you like this" you reached up and ran your hands through his hair, knowing it would calm him down.

"I owe Barry some money"

The words were so soft but held so much. You closed your eyes, knowing that whenever he mentioned Barry, it was dangerous.

"Rafe, we talked about this. You said you were going to stop" you whispered, trying to keep your voice calm.

You knew you weren't going to fix anything by yelling at him, he was never good with screaming.

"I know, and I did. Baby, I swear to you, I did. Sarah and her little Pogue boyfriend stole 25K from his house the other day and he told me that I had to pay for it or he would hurt you. Baby, I've been clean for 6 months, I swear to you. You have to believe me, baby. I swear to God" tears were now streaming down his cheeks, his hands shaking and sobs racking through his body.

You pulled him into a big hug, holding him as he struggled to calm down.

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay, I'm here" you whispered in his ear while running your hands down his back.

He nodded against your shoulder, burying his head further into the crook of your neck.

You held him close for a couple of minutes before his sobs turned into sniffles and his tears stopped falling.

"I don't know where I'll get the money, baby. My dad cut me off and is this close to kicking me out, I figured I would sell one of his watches but I know how angry he'll be once he finds out. I don't know what to do, baby. Sarah's the one involving me in shit and then she just doesn't care about me"

"Hey, look at me" you took his face in your hands, making him look at you. "We're going to go home and explain the situation to my parents. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to help you. You're going to work to pay them back once we find you a job and everything is going to be okay. Sound good?"

He nodded, his eyes holding so much love for you and your family.

Your parents knew about his problems and they never once judged him for it. They understood what kind of environment he grew up in, how much neglect he suffered from Ward and did everything they could to fill the void his parents left. They made him feel loved and safe, helped him get through rehab and maintain his sobriety.

They were the parents he never had but desperately needed.

The drive to your house was short, you lived relatively close to the Cameron's. When you stopped the car, Rafe hesitated opening the door.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching over and laying your hand over his.

"I'm embarrassed. I don't want to disappoint your parents, ever, and here I am getting involved in shit like this"

"Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is not your fault, it's Sarah's. We'll explain everything and then we'll see what we can do about it, does that sound okay?"

He nodded and managed to crack a small smile, unconvincing but still there.

♡♡♡♡♡

"Of course we'll help you, Rafe. Believe me, I understand all about younger siblings and their problems, they're not easy to deal with" your father said, patting Rafe on the back.

You had caught both of your parents at home and explained the whole situation to them. Rafe mainly kept his head down because he couldn't look them in the eyes, but they didn't even judge him for a second.

"I'm so sorry for doing this, Mr. Y/L/N, I wouldn't do it if I didn't think my life depended on it. This guy is serious and he is really dangerous, I'm afraid he might hurt someone if I don't pay him the money my sister stole" Rafe rushed to say, looking between your mother and father.

"Rafe, honey, it's okay. We understand and we aren't judging you. We'll help you in any way we can, you're part of our family and we take care of each other" your mother told him, standing up and hugging your boyfriend.

Rafe wrapped his arms around your mother tightly, savoring the motherly touch and love radiating off of her.

Your heart melted at the sight, knowing how much your mother meant to Rafe.

♡♡♡♡♡

"How did it go?" you asked Rafe as soon as he walked into your house.

He had decided to go to Barry's alone because he wanted to make sure you were safe and sound somewhere he couldn't hurt you.

"I'm free" his smile was so large you thought it was going to rip his face in half.

You squealed and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He let out a big breath and laughed breathlessly, not believing the words he just spoke. He never thought he would be free of Barry, free of the drugs he supplied him, but you changed everything for him.

"Thank you" he said, pulling away just enough to see your face.

"You have nothing to thank me for. I love you and I wasn't about to let you suffer alone" you grabbed his cheeks with both your hands.

"I love you too" he leaned in and captured your lips with his.

And as you were standing in the middle of the living room in each other's arms, you knew there was nothing you couldn't do.

As long as you had each other, you could conquer the world.

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noose-lion · 9 months

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Just noticed something about your Dazai from the holy trifecta au. I don't know if I've missed a part but a portion of his shoulder is discoloured, any particular reason? (Sorry if I'm being annoying I really can't find why in the posts)

Good eye~

I haven't made a post of it anywhere, but it's actually tied into Dazai’s background just a bit.

It's a burn scar. Kinda. It's a holy water scar.

Any form of blessed object/substance injures demons in the same way fire or chemicals hurt humans. (I did my best to draw it in a way that ambiguous to whether it's a fire or chemical burn scar considering it is both and neither).

Sometime in Dazai’s past he's suffered through heavy and extensive exposure to holy water.

(You weren't being annoying I promise, I was actually delighted to have an au based question)

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wolken-himmel · 1 year

Text

In which Jade and Floyd drag (Y/n) to the Octavinelle dorm in the middle of the night. Why? Azul is suffering from an especially bad nightmare.

Upon waking up, the prefect is there to comfort him.

Request by @yourlovelyyves.

"Good evening, (Y/n)."

A velvety voice eased you out of your peaceful slumber, much to your utter dismay. The night had been silent and void of any disturbances prior. Without much effort, you swatted away at the hand that latched into your arm. The assailant remained persistent however, which drew an annoyed grumble from your lips.

"Hm... go back to sleep, Grim," you muttered under your breath. Even after you had rolled onto your other side, the fingers wouldn't cease poking your side.

A disgruntled sigh escaped your lips, you slowly forced your eyes to flutter open. Your eyelids were as heavy as lead and puffy with sleepiness. Yet, all that drowsiness vanished as soon as your eyes met a bright pair of heterochromatic ones.

"Peek-a-boo! It's me! Floyd." A large grin was etched onto his face.

By then, your eyes were as wide as saucers and threatened to fall out of their sockets. Miraculously, you managed to keep the beginnings of a scream in the back of your throat. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. How could it not? Two large shadows loomed over your bed, only the outlines of their sharp features lit by the moon light.

Unmistakably, these shadows were Floyd and Jade.

"Uh... what are you two doing here?" you asked and rubbed your eyes awkwardly. "It's like... 3 AM right now."

"It's a long story," Jade began. Without any regard for your comfort whatsoever, he deftly snatched the blanket off your body. "We shall explain on the way."

A shriek escaped your lips. Without wasting any time, your drowsy limbs tried to regain possession of your blanket. But, with his height and long arms, you failed miserably. His brother merely laughed at your feeble attempt and uncoordinated struggling. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" you grumbled under your breath. The last weaves of warmth fled you by now. "I really need my sleep..."

Floyd clicked his tongue playfully. "I get it, shrimpies need their beauty sleep. We respect that, but we also kinda don't. And this is an emergency, anyway." Without allowing you to answer, he extended his hands and tried to grab you. "So c'mere, Shrimpy." A silly chuckle escaped his lips while he moved in on you.

"Let go of me!" you wailed when he wrapped his arms around you. Without breaking a sweat, he hauled you into the air and threw you over his shoulder. "I need my sleep!"

Floyd rolled his eyes at your antics. "I need my sleep, too. It's a win-win if you just come with us!"

In a split second, you were by the door of your bedroom. A panicked flash adorning your face, you screamed out, "Grim, help! Grim—" Outside, even the crows nestled in their trees perked up and escaped into the distance.

However, your cat friend merely rolled onto his other side. His paws greedily grabbed the blanket all for himself. "Go back to sleep, (Y/n)..." he mumbled and hid his ears beneath the thin pillow.

You clicked your tongue in disappointment. By then, the exhaustion was starting to settle in: all the screaming was draining your small energy reservoir incredibly quickly. "Great..." you grumbled under your breath. Once you had exited the Ramshackle dorm, your tired body went limp in defeat.

Jade simply sighed after a while. "It's because of Azul."

Jade chuckled but shook his head. "No, not really. He somehow is having a lot of nightmares lately. Sadly, his yelling impacts our ability to sleep, as well."

You perked up at his words, and your eyes lit up in worry. "You could have told me earlier instead of dragging me out of my bed without any explanation." Although you pursed your lips, you eventually decided to let it go. A soft sigh escaping your lips, you continued, "So, what's wrong with Azul? Don't tell me he fell asleep at his desk again..."

A yawn escaped his brother's lips. "I get all cranky if I don't get my sleep..." Floyd complained under his breath.

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, we're bringing you with us because he always calls out to you during his nightmares," Jade explained after the three of you had passed through the mirror to arrive at the Octavinelle dorm. "Sometimes it's 'Floyd, don't eat me!' but mostly it's your name, prefect."

Floyd hummed along while you entered the dorm building. "So, we did the only reasonable and logical thing: drag you out of your bed and carry you all the way to our dorm," he chimed proudly. How he managed to procure the strength to carry you despite his tiredness, you would never understand. He dragged you up a winding pair of stairs until you three arrived in front of one particular door.

When you were finally set down again, you let out a satisfied breath. Your tired limbs regained a little bit of life as you stretched and popped your joints back into place. "I'm not sure if I can help him, but I'll try..." you said after a while. The twins eagerly opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

"Work your magic, Shrimpy!"

When light flooded the room, your eyes immediately fell on the figure in the grand bed — none other than Azul. He was thrashing and whimpering. The sight caused your heart to sink in worry. Your feet moved on their own, and you quickly found yourself by his bed side.

"Azul? Whats wrong?" you asked and put his hand on his shoulder.

Your voice seemed to have a soothing effect on him, but he nonetheless continued to roll around in discomfort. "Hm... Floyd, get away from me..." he cried out and hid his head beneath his pillow in what seemed like fear. "Don't eat me..."

You wanted to laugh, you really did — but doing so would have been insensitive. Whatever nightmare he was having, it must have been really bad. His entire body was shaking beneath the blanket.

"Azul? Come on, wake up..." you whispered and squeezed his shoulder softly. "It's me, (Y/n)."

That somehow did the trick. At once, he bolted up until his back was as straight as a candle. His eyes were ripped wide open, and his shoulders heaved up and down. "Please, Floyd, I'm just an innocent octopus! Stop nibbling at my tentacles!" he yelled and clutched his pillow tightly.

"Azul!" You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to pull him back to reality.

His wide eyes returned to their normal size as soon as he noticed your presence. Much to your relief, his body stopped shaking. The fear on his face was now replaced by utter confusion. "Hm? Wait, what are you doing in my room, prefect?" the dorm leader asked awkwardly.

The corners of your lips quirked upwards into an amused smile. "Floyd and Jade brought me here because you were having reoccurring nightmares," you explained while rubbing soothing circles onto his back.

"Tsk, you missed all the good parts," Floyd exclaimed and began cackling. "Azul was fussing about you before he switched to bad-mouthing me. What did he blabber? Stuff like 'Oh, oh! (Y/n), I like you so much!' Right, Jade?"

"I don't seem to recall, brother dearest." An innocent grin graced Jade's lips.

You returned your attention to Azul, whose face was as red as a beet by now. His eyes never met yours. "Well, since you seem pretty fine..." you said between coughs, "I should return to my dorm."

"Thanks for checking up on me..." Azul muttered quietly. "It must have been a long way to the Octavinelle dorm."

Just as you were about to tell him how the twins had dragged you all the way to his room, you noticed their pressing glares. Your instincts told you that perhaps it was better to not tell him all the details. And you had to admit, the grateful smile on his lips somehow made your heart flutter.

"Yeah..." you said and rose to your feet. "No problem."

"Isn't Shrimpy the nicest?" Floyd asked and slung his arm around your shoulder. "Also, Azul! You got my taste buds all wrong. I'd prefer shrimp over octopus every day."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Stop it, before I get nightmares too..."

"You should lock your doors," Jade chirped. "His appetite can be insatiable at times."

You didn't think that Azul's cheeks could have turned even more red. But at this point, he was as red as Riddle's hair. And you swore he looked like he was about to explode. A long sigh escaped his lips, and he buried his face in his hands. The embarrassment he exuded was almost tangible.

"(Y/n), I must apologise for their bad humour and the inconvenience..."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #twst azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul #gender neutral reader

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

Text

no better version I could pretend to be tonight

written for ‘charm’ wc: 548 | rated: m | cw: eddie munson's near-death experience and description of panic attack/nightmares @steddiemicrofic

Eddie wakes up screaming.

It’s how he experiences the crushing weight of living when he was so certain he would die beneath that fiery, starless sky. No one sees the hollowed out face of Death and comes back through the veil unscathed, but if the only sacrifice Eddie makes for his life is his right nipple, some flesh, and peaceful sleep, he figures it’s a bargain.

Every night for the last several months, a hole cracks open in his chest where his lungs once were that bottoms out and refuses to hold the oxygen he desperately tries to pull in to fill the void. His skin feels too tight, his throat hoarse, his palms sore from the clenching of his fingers into fists that swipe at nothing. The taste of blood and rust coats his mouth, a phantom sense that nothing but time dissolves.

Casual shrugs and black coffee disguise his discomfort when asked if he’s okay.

Never better. I’m alive, aren’t I? He jokes.

That should be enough of an answer for his new friends. And it is, mostly. They don’t believe him, but they leave well enough alone.

That is, everyone but Steve Harrington.

Steve’s proven himself to be an enigma, wispy in Eddie’s grasp. He can’t quite get a handle on him, but he’s been nothing but good to Eddie besides his relentless insistence that Eddie try sleeping at his house.

“Just give it a shot, Munson. I’m tellin’ you, I’ve got this sleep charm.”

“If you wanna get me in your bed that bad, you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that.”

“If that’s all I was doing, this would be a lot easier.”

The kicker is that he does. He trusts Steve, and maybe he just wants an excuse to pretend that Steve’s his to wake up to but the next time he wakes up screaming, he gathers his shit, scribbles a note for Wayne in the kitchen with shaking hands, and drives across town. He parks, walks up to the door with a pillow under one arm, and knocks loudly, unencumbered by the liminal space that is Loch Nora at two o’clock in the morning.

Steve opens the door before detaching the deadbolt, sleep rumpled and adorable– save for the nail bat just barely visible through the crack of the door. He’s shirtless in just a pair of pajama pants, blue and green stripes that hang a little loose from his hips.

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles, his voice croaky and low as he rubs at his right eye. “Fuck.” He closes the door just long enough to undo the deadbolt and holds his arm out, ushering Eddie into the quiet of the house.

“Here for your sleep charm, or whatever.” Eddie looks around the room, dimly lit by the motion sensor porch light through the window and doubts himself. “This is stupid as shit. I can just—”

Steve shakes his head and places a hand on Eddie’s lower back, gently guiding him upstairs to his bedroom. “Don’t even think about it. You’re here, and we’re gonna get you some sleep. C’mon.”

It won’t be the last time Eddie wakes to the tickle of Steve’s chest hair against his nose and the gentle press of lips to the top of his head.

there's a version of this that's 3k that lives in my google docs and maybe one day, that'll end up on my ao3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie microfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myfic #myblurbs

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months

Note

Can we get a teaser of the feyd fic

It is almost complete, minor details are subject to change. Here is the scene mentioned in the summary:

Feyd Fantasy Part II <Excerpt>

The Barons Favorite

The Baron speaks with his advisors in the morning about the upcoming gladiatorial fights around the massive table in the meeting hall. When the assembly concludes he uses his hover suit to bring the men of court to watch Feyd in combat training.

Part Two Complete✍🏼

He is proud of the accomplishments of his nephew Feyd, he is the Barons favorite over his older brother Glossu Rabban Harkonnen.

After making several public embarrassments to the family name the Baron had Feyds brother Rabban shipped to Arrakis. He gives him one last chance to prove his worth controlling their families most lucrative venture, harvesting spice.

Though ominous and foreboding the Baron is an obesely over weight man. He can no longer walk without the assistance of integrated technology to reduce the burden of his weight. His hover suit is implanted into his spine with thick tubes connected on two small orbs. The orbs float behind him carrying the chemicals which enable him to defy gravity.

They arrive to the second story of the courtyard in Feyds quarters. When the men gather looking down into the training pit on the first floor it is deserted. A low murmur begins between his advisors as to the where abouts of Feyd. Always eager to show off his knife skills Feyds absence is jarring.

The Baron immediately hovers to Feyds chambers and finds them empty as well. Feyds male Page appears at the entrance hearing the commotion.

“Well where is he?” The Baron snaps “You are to be at his side at all times have you forgotten your purpose”The Baron is fuming at the Pages insolence.

The Page trembles knowing the truth and averts his eyes from the Barons sinister Gaze “Spit it out or I cut it out” the Baron says coldly. He hovers into the young man’s personal space. The Page knows both men will readily slit his throat.

He divulges enough not to be dispatched by either “He and his lady are in the great halls of the fortress. I’m not sure where but he wanted to show her the grandeur of Geidi Prime” the Baron squints in anger how idiotic at a time like this with so much at stake to impress his new bride. His scowl deepens because Feyd above all neglected his training. For that he will be heavily punished.

The Great Meeting Hall

After touring your fifth great hall with Feyd it is readily apparent his family has amassed a great fortune with power and control over the populous of Geidi Prime.

He pushes open the large black inscribed doors of the meeting hall. There are thrones at opposite ends raised on platforms with stairs. The high floor to ceiling windows display the industrial city scape and a grand table that can seat fifty people occupies the majority of the floor space. Everything is void of color, only stone marble, black and granite can be seen in the gigantic area.

You walk over to the throne on your left “is this one yours?” Your voice echos in the large hall. Feyd nods, his hands are clasped behind his back. He follows you around the room as you study the furniture and the giant painting of his uncle and then of himself. There is a portait of a third Harkonnen male next to Feyds but he interrupts your thoughts before you can ask the identity.

“This is where the most important decisions are made on Geidi Prime, as well as another secret room with the cones of silence” he adds.

“What are cones of silence? “ you ask. The words are somewhat familiar to you.

“They are able to mute all sounds around them, only the two inside can hear each other.” He answers as he imagines himself fucking you inside of one until he makes you scream in pleasure as loud as he possibly can. He stops walking and stands behind you.

You've paused to study something that caught your eye. His eyes wander your form up to the beauty of your side profile. He can’t help himself as his hand trails down your shoulder. “Do these things in impress you?” He asks. You finally look over your shoulder at him.

You had been mesmerized studying an ancient Harkonnen sword on display. It is carved with hieroglyphs that date back centuries. It represents how his entire culture revolves around war and greed . “Yes ” you say addressing his question to be kind. You turn back to looking at the sword again. Inside you are deeply longing for your home world.

You remember the beautiful gardens, waterfalls, flowers, and colors of life. You especially miss the large atrium where you would read for hours basking in the afternoon sunlight. The warm rays would kiss your skin as it filtered through the glass dome.

Laying on a spacious out door ottoman with your fellow Bene Gesserit sisters honing your skills in the palatial gardens seemed like a dream now.

Feyd sees you lost deep in thought and softly grabs your chin “What would impress you more” he asks with intent. He knows you aren’t fond of the ways on Geidi Prime. You don’t have an answer so you remain quiet.

He knows one thing he has that impresses you on end. He gently pulls you into a kiss. His bottom lip rubs softly with yours as his warm tongue fills your mouth.

He ignites your passions and you place your hands on his jaw. You lean your head with his as you kiss him in return. You want to focus on the carnal and forget your distant memories. He presses himself against you and the heat of his body claims you.

He turns you walking back as he kisses your lips until you are met against the grand meeting hall table. He sits on the edge and moves to the center. He rests back on his heels beckoning you to come.

You climb onto the edge and crawl to him. Now both in the center he holds your jaw and pulls you close. His lips find yours again hungrier than before.

You feel his teeth bite into your lower lip and tug. It arouses you and he releases your lip to do again. Then he envelops his mouth completely onto yours. You feel the hardness of his cock as he presses it into your thigh.

He wants to defile you on this table. He smirks at the high disrespect to the Harkonnen dynasty he is about to commit. Soon this will all belong to him so what does it matter. He pushes you back to lie flat against the stone slab. You gaze up above him to the metallic barbs of the chandelier until his face obstructs your view.

His hands start at your knees grabbing the hem of your gown sliding it up to your hips.

His hands clutch one side of your panties tearing them apart making you gasp. He tears the other side and rips them clean from your body.

You watch as he sits back on his heels between your parted legs. He unhooks the clasp of his pants and pulls his thick veiny cock out. The contrast of the black fabric against his large hardened pale cock is striking.

His slaps his pink tip on your clit to edge you.

You flinch at each tap as it makes your bundle of nerves jump. He slides his hand down your thigh to meet your hip and holds you steady. He lines himself up and thrusts into you so roughly you have no time to adjust to the feeling.

Your vision goes hazy as your back arcs from the table. His penetration shocked you senseless. His large cock expands parts of you that you never knew existed. He watches how your face changes from pain to pleasure and back again as you try and relax around the girth of his size.

He wants to spur you on and leans down pressing his chest to yours. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck titling your head so he can speak softly into your ear.

”You are so beautiful to me” he says as his eyes study your side profile. He traces his thumb on your lower lip as you pant for him. “So desperate for my cock, the way you’d let me fuck you on this table you’d let me do anything to you” a moan escapes your lips as he shushes you “Just lay still and look pretty while I fuck you until you stretch open for me” you moan louder at his words.

He begins to roughly thrust inside of you like he wants to posses you. His cock hits your core at a dangerous pace. Your breasts bounce with every push of his hips. He is already becoming lost in pleasure grunting above you. He loves the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his throbbing cock.

You arc your back down flat to brace yourself against his rutting. “You…feel too good on my cock” he rasps out as he finally hits the thrust that stretches you around his size. He stares down into your eyes completely transfixed by the physical connection between your bodies.

Unbeknownst to you both the Baron has finally narrowed his search. After spying into several halls down the corridor his servants waves him over finally finding the one you are in. The Baron peeks through the discreet opening made by one of the nimble servants. There on the middle of the table in the grand meeting hall he sees Feyd fucking you ruthlessly.

Your are constantly being pounded into the stone slab table by his strength. His hips begin slapping harder against you as he thrust between your legs. You hold out until the familiar tightening in your abdomen begins. Your moans start to fill the air.

As your walls clench around him it makes his cock feel incredible inside of you. Your eyes stare up at him, pleading and begging for release.

He sees the neediness in your eyes and brings his hand between your bodies touching your clit. His finger tips are wet by your arousal and he slicks them expertly in firm circles around your bundle of nerves.

It sends shocks though your core that radiate your entire body “YES please Feyd just like that“. You are unable to string together another sentence as you orgasm. He strums your clit as hard as he can with his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

His mouth opens when he feels the pleasurable sensation of your walls milking his cock from the orgasm. He pins your wrists next to your head and plows into you even harder his release is immediate. His pace falters as he orgasms. You both moan as he paints rope after rope of his hot cum into your cervix.

He rests down on his elbows laying his full weight on you panting. He kisses your lips passionately with his final slow thrusts. His breath shudders into your mouth as he feels his cock empty inside of you.

He plants soft kisses around your face as he comes down. Each one more tender and loving than the last. His heart feels revived when he’s with you. He cradles your head in his hands staring deeply into your eyes. You smile at him and he smiles back, this time it isn’t like his sinister ones before, this one is radiant you see the kindness return in his eyes.

His uncle spying on the entire moment becomes enraged : not at the fact Feyd missed training, not at the fact he satisfied his carnal urges on the sacred meeting hall table, but at the fact Feyd put a woman’s pleasure before his own. The Baron turns away in disgust his patience is severed.

He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now he sees every aspect of brutally he instilled in Feyd quickly being stripped away by a female. He never thought this was possible.

He is resolute in his decision to regain control. He will take out two problems with one swift action: Punishing Feyd by having you removed from his presence entirely.

[Sneak Peek: Full fic in finalization]

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