Multifandom reader inserts.

AO3 ll MASTERLIST Text count: 300+. Writing blog for anime is @i-might-write

[silence-burns]

My dad died last month, but it's still so surreal. Turns out he also had cancer, just like my mom, but his was already more developed and aggressive. After he had a stroke last May, I had hoped that through all the myriad lab tests and doctor's visits they'd finally sort out any underlying issues with him, but nope. No one found out cancer until it already covered half his organs and left no room for any surgery or chemo. He just died.

It makes me all the more exhausted thinking about my mom, who's still getting treatments for her cancer.

Please take care of yourselves and your loved ones, whoever they are.

[silence-burns]

Hey all! I'm not dead, just have very little time for anything, especially writing, since I started work in one of those international corporations sucking the life out of people 😆

Learning Chinese is also going great, it's my favourite thing to do in whatever spare time I rip out of my days.

And also my father had a stroke recently so I have to use all the time I have outside of work to take care of him and make sure he's taking all the meds and exercises.

I'm not saying goodbye to this blog, life just forced me to take a break, hahaha

Take care of yourselves!

[silence-burns]

My mom has cancer, tomorrow she's gonna have a rather complicated surgery. It's difficult to say how it goes. It felt strange leaving her in the hospital today, not sure whether I'll see her alive again. Since May and my father's stroke, I feel like I can't catch a break, there's always something new going wrong.

Please take care of yourselves, and your loved ones.

[silence-burns]

Hey all! I'm not dead, just have very little time for anything, especially writing, since I started work in one of those international corporations sucking the life out of people 😆

Learning Chinese is also going great, it's my favourite thing to do in whatever spare time I rip out of my days.

And also my father had a stroke recently so I have to use all the time I have outside of work to take care of him and make sure he's taking all the meds and exercises.

I'm not saying goodbye to this blog, life just forced me to take a break, hahaha

Take care of yourselves!

[writing-prompt-s]

A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.

[silence-burns]

The barn was there for long enough to have the trees next to it overshadow the entrance. They were not meant to grow as high, nor their branches to reach the roof. It was not safe, as the storm could damage the tiles, but there would be no trimming them this spring. The only ladder on the farm was wobbly, and unlikely to be used again.

The shadows cast by the blooming flowers and tiny buds of leaves were nice, if one stood directly underneath them. The barn cast its own shadow, but it was as muddy as the wooden walls overdue on repainting.

The planes flying low made the petals fall and there were not that many left. There would be none by the end of spring, and the last of them would rot in the mud with no one left to sweep. The leaves would thicken, their shadows cover the roof with too many tiles missing, and no one left to care.

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 3

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

“Try not to drown. It would be awkward.”

Orm watched you disappear into the bathroom, angry or embarrassed to the point of momentarily forgetting about your exhaustion. It was such a relief after spending hours watching your feverish, unresponsive body. He couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn't used to sitting idle, which led him to start cleaning up the house during those few hours and familiarizing himself with the rooms. Orm was now a free man, left to live his life however he wanted. And yet, when Arthur came to him with a certain proposition, he didn't even think before agreeing.

What he's said before was true—Orm did feel indebted to you for everything you'd done over the years. But it wasn't the main reason he dropped everything and allowed Arthur to bring him to the sea house.

Orm used the opportunity of having you out of bed (if it could even be called that) to clean it up and take off the bed sheets. A surprising amount of human medicine rolled out from various crevices of crumpled blankets, which he put on the table to carefully read about later. Human ingenuity managed to surprise him every now and then, and instructions printed on every surface possible were something he appreciated.

He heard the water run in the shower, which was a good sign. So far, no screams, shouts or sounds of a body hitting the floor broke the peaceful evening. Orm wouldn't mind it staying that way.

It took him a few moments to figure out the way human bed sheets were supposed to be used. Everything felt new to him, but he took pride in every step. There was a certain novelty to doing things wrong and not having a whole nation watching.

The lock opened with a mechanical click. You stood in the doorway, looking pale and wet, resembling a wet rat Orm had once seen in a canal. The loose shirt you put on had a lot of soaked spots.

“I can't take it off.”

Orm moved his eyes away from the shirt clinging to your body. “Pardon?”

Your lips formed a thin, anxious line. “The old bandage. Even after I soaked it, I can't take parts of it off.”

Orm knew he'd sooner grow old and turn to dust than hear from you words such as ‘Please, could you help me? I can't do this on my own.’ In any other person, such a trait would endlessly annoy him.

“Let me have a try.” It was a perfectly diplomatic answer that made you walk back into the bathroom.

You leaned over the sink with your back to him and pulled the shirt up. From up close, Orm realized that some of the wet patches on the shirt came from blood. Removing even part of the bandages resulted in aggravating the wounds again, and pulling on the ones that were stuck hard only made it worse.

For a moment, Orm beheld the scale of the task. “What happened to you again?”

“A building.”

It looked as if you were dragged through a few of them. Repeatedly.

“...must've been a big one.”

“Your brother has a talent of making the worst possible choices.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

His heart hurt when he started pulling on the scabbed wounds that had dried with pieces of bandage and dressing inside the wound. He was no medic, but he'd been in enough duels and fights not to overlook unhealed injuries. With lips pressed thin, he tried to be as gentle as possible, but his work was difficult.

He was impressed you didn't flinch or curse. Orm only heard quiet hisses from you and noticed your heavy breathing.

“I'm sorry it's taking so long,” he broke the silence after a while, thinking it would distract you enough. “I wish we had some of the Atlantean medicine that could speed this up.”

“I actually might still have some in the cabinet to your left from that time we fought those necros. Your healers gave me a lot, but I don't remember which is which.”

Orm froze. “And you're only telling me this now?”

“In my defense, I didn't even remember about it until you asked.”

Orm dropped the paper towels he used to wipe the blood off your back into the sink. He found a crumpled bag with a few small, familiar jars. Some of the medicine had already dried out, but the one he was searching for remained intact.

“It's a good thing you didn't throw them out. This one is a special salve; it breaks the bond between dried out wounds and cleans them.”

Orm layered it thickly, working fast and trying his best to focus only on your injuries. Your skin was hot under his fingers and smelled vaguely of soap.

“I tried to soak them under the shower, but it didn't really help.”

“There was not enough water.”

You frowned and raised your head a little to look at Orm in the mirror. He seemed to be engrossed in cleaning the scabs and fabric off. Even though the pain subsided significantly, something still bothered you.

“...I'm pretty sure there was a decent amount of water in the water that I used.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“In what other terms may I present to you thousands of years of Atlantean technology development that went into producing this salve? Its effects are greatly enhanced.”

“Did you just say my water is too dry??”

“Ah, right. I forgot you're the water experts. Should I start calling you professor?”

Orm tightened the bandage as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as it keeps you alive.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you were sure that despite the bruises and bandages, Orm could clearly see what his words did to you. You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact first.

“I'm sure you think you sound cool, but you might've overlooked the possibility of me abusing such power easily and with a smile on my face, Salve Master.”

Orm chuckled. His fingers lingered around your waist. “You'll be the death of me. But as I've said—whatever keeps you going.”

And then he suddenly turned you around and lifted you over his shoulder. Too stunned to fight back, you found yourself carried out of the bathroom.

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

Even though you learned early on the world was an unjust and cruel place, it still managed to surprise you occasionally. The last bits of hope clung to your cloudy mind, snatched away from you once you pried your eyes open to see your nightmare incarnate sitting by the kitchen table.

The fever knocked you out for a few blissful hours; earlier events fading into a half-remembered dream. But there was no denying the truth once you noticed the suspiciously clean counters and sudden lack of accumulated trash laying around. And, worst of all, your new roommate.

Or caregiver. Or pain in the ass. Or man that made your heart twitch in a way signaling either a crush or a heart attack. Who cared about semantics?

Orm Marius, former Ocean Master and currently just some guy, sat in the middle of the kitchen, making his way through a book. The seaside house was home to many books, although you doubted the original owner ever had the time to browse through them.

A small mercy had been granted to you and Orm didn't notice you had woken up. You couldn't help but observe him. Even though he was no stranger to you, and quite recently you'd helped break him out of prison and even somehow saved the world together, you still felt mesmerized by the way he moved and looked.

Even now, the dying evening light entering through the window painted the room in deep shadows, and softened the planes of Orm's face. He had positioned himself close to the window to read in the dimming light. It allowed you to see the softened curve of his shoulders and the way he tilted his head, studying the book just as carefully as you studied him.

“Glad to see you're doing better,” Orm said, without moving.

You jumped a little, making your injuries flare up in a wave of pain. A startled whine escaped your lips when your body reminded you how sore it actually was.

Orm put the book down and stepped over to the couch. Before you managed to say anything, he pressed his hand to your forehead. Whatever words rose in your throat, scattered.

“You're still burning,” Orm muttered with concern and furrowed brows. “Are you sure your medicine is working?”

“...it just needs some time.”

Your voice came out weaker than you expected. You felt fuzzy, and the room around you was definitely moving a little.

Orm was not convinced, and disappeared from your line of sight for a while.

Your fever was probably on the rise again, which was to be expected. For the past few days you'd been in and out of it, drowning in sweat and fighting off the urge to scratch underneath your bandages.

You kicked off the thin blanket, hoping Orm wouldn't touch you again. You were dreadfully aware of how wet Orm's hand must've come off and of the old sweat stench surrounding you. In your defense, you didn't expect any visitors, so for the past few days you focused on passively surviving rather than dragging your corpse to the shower once a day.

You heard Orm's steps before he entered your vision. “Man, just leave me alone. I'm seriously fine on my own—”

A wet towel slapped onto your face, splashing cold water around. What a simple, yet effective way of both shutting you up and providing relief. You'd be impressed if it didn't piss you off so much.

You dragged it off your eyes and came face to face with Orm, suddenly crouching way too close to your liking. He looked at you intensely and then raised an eyebrow.

“If you want me gone, then you should be perfectly capable of throwing me out. You didn't have any trouble last time we sparred.”

“That would be so rude of me. It would crush your ego.”

“As if you ever bothered being polite.”

“I am the nicest person that has ever graced this Earth.”

“You look like a corpse on its way to the afterlife. Unless your state improves, I'm not leaving. The only choice you have is finally dying or getting better and kicking me out. And since I'd rather see the outcome of option number two, I think we have to start with these bandages.”

“They’re in place.”

“The wounds need to be cleaned and dressed again. I can smell that from back here.”

With a hiss through clenched teeth, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, as far away from Orm as was possible on the couch.

“...look who's impolite now.”

Orm moved closer to you with a darkened expression. It made you shiver and put one bare foot on his chest in the only defense you could muster. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, but didn't move any closer.

“It's not about politeness or pride,” he explained slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I want you to feel better, regardless of what it takes.”

The way your cheeks heated had very little to do with the fever. In a kinder world, Orm wouldn't have noticed it.

But in this one, he was too observant to miss something like that. His lips curled in the faintest of smiles just as his hand moved further up your leg, slowly dragging his fingers over your scorching skin. Your heart was in your throat and wanted out.

You slapped the wet towel onto his arm and freed your leg.

“Such profound words for someone so annoying.”

“Whatever gets you moving. These wounds really do need cleaning, and I will not back down from that one.”

“I can do it myself.”

“If you could, you would've done it days ago—when it was actually due. That's enough waiting, take them off.”

You thought back to how far your injuries went under your shirt. It provided you with a surprisingly effective burst of motivation to heave yourself off the couch and onto semi-steady legs.

You wobbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, wishing for your torment to finally end.

“Please do avoid any further injuries,” Orm called after you, watching your unsteady search for clean clothes and a towel. There was painful stiffness to your joints, but you were extremely motivated to overcome it.

“I promise to graciously call for your aid right before I break my neck on these marvelous tiles.”

There was not much dignity left in you, but you did your best to protect it by switching the bathroom lock rather than slamming the door.

You could've sworn you heard Orm chuckle.

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

The sun was blinding, but unfortunately, not enough to make the man standing before you disappear.

“You're in surprisingly good shape for a dead person,” you said.

“And you look terrible for someone supposedly alive,” said Orm.

You shrugged and immediately regretted it. The tight bandages keeping your shoulder in place worked as a poor reminder it was out of commission for the next few weeks.

“How I've missed that princely charm. Piss me off some more and, half-dead or not, I'm gonna kick your ass back into that desert I got it from. It might be the last thing I do, but if I become a ghost, I'll brag about it for eternity.”

Your mood soured further with every minute you remained conscious. Surprises and resurrections, you could deal with, but your ability to be polite left long ago. There were a lot of impolite and certainly unprincely words bubbling in your chest, but they all disappeared when the most magical, impossible, and straight-out-of-fairy-tales thing happened.

Orm, of his own volition, smiled.

The sun was still doing its best to blind your already red and swollen eyes—it failed yet again. You examined the strange occurrence, with the furrowed brows and all the small wrinkles and tiny folds in the skin that usually accompanied a person’s smile looking perfectly normal on his face. It was a genuine smile. You could only blink at him for a moment

“I thought scowling was the only expression you had. Like a factory setting, you know.”

“I'm glad to hear you are as sharp as ever, despite your current shortcomings.”

“Excuse you, I'm in great shape.”

The man in front of you politely didn't argue. It was rather clear from his expression that he had some serious doubts about not only the state of your body, but also about your mental capacity of acknowledging said state, but he made the wise choice of keeping these thoughts to himself.

Wise was your middle name; therefore, you allowed the silence to confirm your words. At the same time, you shifted more of your weight against the doorframe, hoping your grimace came across as menacing rather than painful. Your leg needed a bit of rest, nothing serious. It totally wasn’t almost crushed to pieces a few weeks ago.

The smile on Orm’s face, an expression you could get used to seeing, started to shift into a look of concern as he watched your eyes. You looked away, afraid of how much he could see. Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you inside the house.

It was a pretty house, very spacious, just like old rich men tended to enjoy—which might explain why Batman bought it a long time ago as a safehouse far from any prying eyes, and why he allowed you to occasionally use it as such.

Yet, despite all the initial spaciousness, it was rather easy to clutter if the person living inside had a few cracked bones, general lack of energy to move, and never invited anyone around to see the mess.

Orm raised an eyebrow when he noticed a sofa dragged into the kitchen area and the amount of empty, crushed packaging laying around it. You hated how much could be expressed without saying a word.

“Put me down.”

Your words came out weaker than intended. Orm held you in a bridal carry which put immense pressure on your cracked ribs and sent flashes of pain every time you inhaled. But he was so warm and close that your anger sizzled and faded.

With your head on his shoulder, you had the perfect view of his perfect profile and the perfect frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows.

“So, this is how you live now?” was all he said, in a controlled tone.

“I know you're not deaf and heard me the first time. Put me down. Preferably on my beautiful and completely normal kitchen bed, thank you.”

You sighed with relief once he finally listened. Even though the pressure of his arms around you disappeared, somehow you still felt his warmth, as if it seeped into your battered, bruised flesh. You felt your face getting hot and decided against following that train of thought.

Your heart, for a reason you also chose to ignore, skipped a beat when Orm turned on his heel and walked back to the front door. It took him comparatively less time than when you had to drag your ass to open it a few minutes ago.

But rather than walking outside and disappearing from your life again, Orm only closed the door. And then turned the lock too.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you said, in vain hope that all of this was just a bad dream you'd soon wake up from.

“What a shame,” Orm said with no shame whatsoever in his voice.

“Why are you here? I might be a little late with that question, but I'd still love to know the answer.”

Orm took measured steps to the kitchen table, assessing the seat with the least amount of trash surrounding it, and sat down. He sat upright, posture uncompromised in the face of a backless stool, and folded his hands on the table. How he looked royal surrounded by trash and cold leftovers was beyond you.

“As you have witnessed, thanks to Arthur, after that final battle I got a way out of my old life. I enjoyed it for the most part, and even wandered the surface world for a while. And then I heard about your accident and came to settle my debts.”

“You don't have a debt to me.”

“When I was awaiting sentencing for my crimes, you were the one that took care of me. And not so long ago, you helped Artur break me out of that prison. That alone guarantees my utmost respect.”

“Your debt is paid, you owe me nothing.”

“That's not how it works.”

“I don't need a nurse, especially one who isn’t wearing a sexy costume.”

“I'm afraid that part is not negotiable.”

“Wait.” You squinted, doing your best to focus your thoughts despite a rising migraine. “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town a few hours on foot and only if you already know the way. And the only people that knew I got… a little roughed up, were those in the Justice League. Did Artur give you a ride here because he felt guilty he didn’t stop that building in Venice from falling on me?”

“Every day I am thankful that I don't know the inner workings of my brother’s mind.”

“So he did.”

You let your head fall back onto the makeshift kitchen-bed. It was too much for you.

You grabbed the pills from your secret under-the-pillow stash of meds and swallowed some painkillers.

“I'm going to kill your brother.”

“May you have more luck than I did. Now, do you even own any clean clothes?”

[silence-burns]

couldn't wait for the next part agrhhsshhshs i love when someone wrote about orm and i like ur writing 🥺🫶

Awww, thank you!! I'm currently working on part 2, and I hope you will enjoy it to 🫶

[silence-burns]

EHEBEBRBE THABK YOU FOR THE ORM IVE BEEN WAITING TO SEE MORE PEOPLE WRITE FOR POOKIE BEAR AUSGGHNDN I LOVED YOUR OTHER SERIES SO MUCH SP I CAN'T WAIT FOR THIS ONE

Awww that's so sweet! Orm is such a cool character, and a pleasure to write 😀 I hope you will enjoy the next parts!

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

The sun was blinding, but unfortunately, not enough to make the man standing before you disappear.

“You're in surprisingly good shape for a dead person,” you said.

“And you look terrible for someone supposedly alive,” said Orm.

You shrugged and immediately regretted it. The tight bandages keeping your shoulder in place worked as a poor reminder it was out of commission for the next few weeks.

“How I've missed that princely charm. Piss me off some more and, half-dead or not, I'm gonna kick your ass back into that desert I got it from. It might be the last thing I do, but if I become a ghost, I'll brag about it for eternity.”

Your mood soured further with every minute you remained conscious. Surprises and resurrections, you could deal with, but your ability to be polite left long ago. There were a lot of impolite and certainly unprincely words bubbling in your chest, but they all disappeared when the most magical, impossible, and straight-out-of-fairy-tales thing happened.

Orm, of his own volition, smiled.

The sun was still doing its best to blind your already red and swollen eyes—it failed yet again. You examined the strange occurrence, with the furrowed brows and all the small wrinkles and tiny folds in the skin that usually accompanied a person’s smile looking perfectly normal on his face. It was a genuine smile. You could only blink at him for a moment

“I thought scowling was the only expression you had. Like a factory setting, you know.”

“I'm glad to hear you are as sharp as ever, despite your current shortcomings.”

“Excuse you, I'm in great shape.”

The man in front of you politely didn't argue. It was rather clear from his expression that he had some serious doubts about not only the state of your body, but also about your mental capacity of acknowledging said state, but he made the wise choice of keeping these thoughts to himself.

Wise was your middle name; therefore, you allowed the silence to confirm your words. At the same time, you shifted more of your weight against the doorframe, hoping your grimace came across as menacing rather than painful. Your leg needed a bit of rest, nothing serious. It totally wasn’t almost crushed to pieces a few weeks ago.

The smile on Orm’s face, an expression you could get used to seeing, started to shift into a look of concern as he watched your eyes. You looked away, afraid of how much he could see. Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you inside the house.

It was a pretty house, very spacious, just like old rich men tended to enjoy—which might explain why Batman bought it a long time ago as a safehouse far from any prying eyes, and why he allowed you to occasionally use it as such.

Yet, despite all the initial spaciousness, it was rather easy to clutter if the person living inside had a few cracked bones, general lack of energy to move, and never invited anyone around to see the mess.

Orm raised an eyebrow when he noticed a sofa dragged into the kitchen area and the amount of empty, crushed packaging laying around it. You hated how much could be expressed without saying a word.

“Put me down.”

Your words came out weaker than intended. Orm held you in a bridal carry which put immense pressure on your cracked ribs and sent flashes of pain every time you inhaled. But he was so warm and close that your anger sizzled and faded.

With your head on his shoulder, you had the perfect view of his perfect profile and the perfect frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows.

“So, this is how you live now?” was all he said, in a controlled tone.

“I know you're not deaf and heard me the first time. Put me down. Preferably on my beautiful and completely normal kitchen bed, thank you.”

You sighed with relief once he finally listened. Even though the pressure of his arms around you disappeared, somehow you still felt his warmth, as if it seeped into your battered, bruised flesh. You felt your face getting hot and decided against following that train of thought.

Your heart, for a reason you also chose to ignore, skipped a beat when Orm turned on his heel and walked back to the front door. It took him comparatively less time than when you had to drag your ass to open it a few minutes ago.

But rather than walking outside and disappearing from your life again, Orm only closed the door. And then turned the lock too.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you said, in vain hope that all of this was just a bad dream you'd soon wake up from.

“What a shame,” Orm said with no shame whatsoever in his voice.

“Why are you here? I might be a little late with that question, but I'd still love to know the answer.”

Orm took measured steps to the kitchen table, assessing the seat with the least amount of trash surrounding it, and sat down. He sat upright, posture uncompromised in the face of a backless stool, and folded his hands on the table. How he looked royal surrounded by trash and cold leftovers was beyond you.

“As you have witnessed, thanks to Arthur, after that final battle I got a way out of my old life. I enjoyed it for the most part, and even wandered the surface world for a while. And then I heard about your accident and came to settle my debts.”

“You don't have a debt to me.”

“When I was awaiting sentencing for my crimes, you were the one that took care of me. And not so long ago, you helped Artur break me out of that prison. That alone guarantees my utmost respect.”

“Your debt is paid, you owe me nothing.”

“That's not how it works.”

“I don't need a nurse, especially one who isn’t wearing a sexy costume.”

“I'm afraid that part is not negotiable.”

“Wait.” You squinted, doing your best to focus your thoughts despite a rising migraine. “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town a few hours on foot and only if you already know the way. And the only people that knew I got… a little roughed up, were those in the Justice League. Did Artur give you a ride here because he felt guilty he didn’t stop that building in Venice from falling on me?”

“Every day I am thankful that I don't know the inner workings of my brother’s mind.”

“So he did.”

You let your head fall back onto the makeshift kitchen-bed. It was too much for you.

You grabbed the pills from your secret under-the-pillow stash of meds and swallowed some painkillers.

“I'm going to kill your brother.”

“May you have more luck than I did. Now, do you even own any clean clothes?”

[silence-burns]

DC

Aquaman:

Orm Marius x reader:

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 1

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 2

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 3

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 4

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 5

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 6

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 7

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 8

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 9

I’d drown you in a spoon //part 10 (the end)

Orm Marius headcanons: rain

Batman:

Return

Suicide Squad:

Harley Quinn x reader:

Sleepover

Rick Flag x reader:

Fresh Meat

Not Close Enough //part (1/3)

Not Close Enough //part (2/3)

Not Close Enough //part (3/3)

Natural Enemies //part 1

Natural Enemies //part 2

Natural Enemies //part 3

Natural Enemies //part 4

Natural Enemies //part 5

Natural Enemies //part 6

Natural Enemies //part 7

Natural Enemies //part 8

Natural Enemies //part 9

Natural Enemies //part 10

Natural Enemies //epilogue

Rick Flag headcanons: sleep

Rick Flag headcanons: touch

Imagine Rick Flag having a crush on you

[silence-burns]

I'm gonna see the Aquaman 2 today! 😀 I'm excited, I haven't watched anything not strictly meant for studying in like half a year hahaha

I think last time was Spiderman 2 in June, that was also fun!

[silence-burns]

“Please Hate Me” series masterlist.

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Tags: enemies to friends to lovers, humor, some smut, sloooow burn

Word count: 100.000 (yes, precisely that number), completed

Well, since the series is expanding and I love it, I’ve decided to give it its own masterlist, to make the parts easily accessible.

PSA: T*mblr keeps messing with those links, and I try to fight it to the best of my extent, but… you know how it is. In case T*mblr strikes again, you can find this series on my AO3 too, right here-> LINK.

Please Hate Me //part 1

Please Hate Me //part 2

Please Hate Me //part 3

Please Hate Me //part 4

Please Hate Me //part 5

Please Hate Me //part 6

Please Hate Me //part 7

Please Hate Me //part 8

Please Hate Me //part 9

Please Hate Me //part 10

Please Hate Me //part 11

Please Hate Me //part 12

Please Hate Me //part 13

Please Hate Me //part 14

Please Hate Me //part 15

Please Hate Me //part 16

Please Hate Me //part 17

Please Hate Me //part 18

Please Hate Me //part 19

Please Hate Me //part 20

Please Hate Me //part 21

Please Hate Me //part 22

Please Hate Me //part 23

Please Hate Me //part 24

Please Hate Me //part 25

Please Hate Me //part 26

Please Hate Me //part 27

Please Hate Me //part 28

Please Hate Me //part 29

Please Hate Me //part 30

Please Hate Me //part 31

Please Hate Me //part 32 

Please Hate Me //part 33

Please Hate Me //part 34

Please Hate Me //part 35

Please Hate Me //part 36

Please Hate Me //part 37 

Please Hate Me //part 38

Please Hate Me //part 39

Please Hate Me //part 40 *smut*

Please Hate Me //part 41

Please Hate Me //part 42

Please Hate Me //part 43

Please Hate Me //part 44

Please Hate Me //part 45 *smut*

Please Hate Me //part 46

Please Hate Me //part 47

Please Hate Me //part 48

Please Hate Me //part 49

Please Hate Me //part 50

Please Hate Me //part 51

Please Hate Me //part 52

Please Hate Me //part 53

Please Hate Me //epilogue

Enjoy. 

If the masterlist stops working, you can find this series on my AO3 (LINK).

[silence-burns]

It's been a while since I've been to Tumblr. Ever since I got a job (and now I'm even changing companies, that was fast 😂) and got really deep into learning intermediate Chinese, I barely got any free time left.

But I'm still alive and I'm glad to see so many of you are doing well too 😀

Tumblr has changed a lot too, I barely recognize some of the functions, hahaha

[silence-burns]

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe 

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling. 

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?” 

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair. 

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?” 

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom. 

"Miguel, I come in peace!" 

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle. 

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room. 

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to. 

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit. 

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at. 

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump. 

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again. 

"I have something to take care of first."

[silence-burns]

Just A Prank

Fandom: Fast and Furious

It'd been a while since Han had a chance to meet with so many familiar faces. With the sun high in the sky, and the smell of barbecue in the air, it was almost possible to enjoy it all.

He tried his best to ignore all the photos being taken of him by Tej and Roman enjoying themselves a little too much.

“You did hear me when I told you that I don't need all this?” Han asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Shhh, let the geniuses work. You're coming back to life in style!”

“Your silly dating app is no magical tool.”

“Oh no, no, pretty boy, the magicians are all in there, trust me,” Roman chuckled, not looking up from Han’s phone.

The day was too nice to stain it with pointless arguments, so Han turned back to his beer. His drink was slowly becoming lukewarm, both the sun and his warm palm working to heat it up.

He smiled to himself when he noticed Dom and Letty arrive in the driveway. Their boy was already running halfway through the yard. Han could've sworn it was only yesterday when he was taking his first steps. He made a mental note to visit the area more often. He had many reasons to.

“And what might this be? The lone wolf, drinking himself unconscious before the main course even arrives at the table? That's not a good look on you, Han.”

He glanced up at you and the beer froze halfway to his lips. You’d managed to sneak up on him, but no matter how many times it happened, his heart always skipped a few beats.

“I'm glad that being fashionably late is always a good look on you, then,” he replied through a tight throat, wondering whether you could hear the sudden rasp in his voice.

“How sweet. Good to know that one thing hasn’t changed.”

The smile you offered him blinded him more than the sun behind your back, but before his brain unfroze, Roman popped up right next to him, pushing the phone into Han’s hand.

“60 seconds on the app and look how successful you already are! The more the merrier, but I'd still suggest looking through this part in their profiles, just in case—...”

The rest drifted from Han's mind the moment he noticed your eyes looking down on his screen. There weren't any obvious changes on your face, but he saw the tension in your shoulders.

“Have fun,” was the only thing you said before you walked away from his spot to greet the rest of the ever growing family. Many voices overlapped, but he still only could hear yours.

Roman was already gone, unaware of what had transpired. He drifted off to the barbecue, acquiring a plate and a fork from somewhere Han couldn’t see.

Han put his beer down. He’d lost interest in it, and conceded the fight for its temperature to the sun.

The day wasn't supposed to go like this. It'd been a while since he last saw you. The time away had only made him miss the missions when the two of you paired up together more. Even if nothing ever happened, he could feel the invisible pull, as if gravity itself wanted to push him closer to you.

Getting it out of his head was a difficult task, and it only felt worse the closer he was to you.

Hours passed, and even though Han enjoyed the party and catching up with everyone, one thought at the back of his head wouldn't let him relax. He'd already turned his phone off, because dealing with the constant meaningless notifications was beyond his patience, but the harm had already been done. He could feel it in the way you made sure to be busy when Han approached, and how the only times you looked in his direction were during polite but group conversation that bounced from one topic to another.

It’d taken Han all of his self control not to run after you when he noticed you finally walking to the side, probably to lug a new crate of beer to the tables.

The evening sun was painting long shadows behind the house, but you still noticed Han following you.

“You can take the second one, if you're so eager to help.” You nodded to the side before walking past him.

Han took half a step to the left, blocking you ever so slightly.

“It was a misunderstanding,” he blurted quietly. He could've found better words to put everything back in place, but none came to him in the past few hours. “Roman was just being an ass. It's a very natural state to him.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. As far as I'm concerned, you are an adult capable of making your own choices. Have your fun, enjoy the world. That's what life is all about, right?”

The smile you presented him was just as wide as he remembered it, but it held no joy that used to pull him in like a moth to a flame.

“Life is more than shallow enjoyment. Especially when you bind yours together with another one.”

You snorted under your breath. The crate was not getting any lighter and your arms began to ache, so you put it down next to your feet. As much as you wanted to move on and get back to the party, it didn't look like you were getting a chance soon, unless you decided to walk directly through the blooming bushes next to the path.

“Han, we've been through this already. Just because we've—...”

“I was a fool for not making myself clear before, but I intend to fix it.” He took half a step closer without taking his eyes off you. “There is no reason for me to look at any of those strange apps Roman insisted on, because no one I actually want to find is in there. They are right in front of me and I have been too blind to see them.”

You blinked. He was still there, staring at you with a complicated mixture of hope and worry painted over his face. It was a strange sight coming from a person usually so composed, but a part of you was relieved to hear him.

“You could've just asked me to dinner.”

Han leaned down to effortlessly pick up the crate by your feet. “I could and I will. How about we start with a beer first?”

[silence-burns]

Are there any Han Lue lovers? I just saw the new Fast and Furious movie, and I've got feelings that i just had to put into a fic 😅

[silence-burns]

Try Again

Fandom: Fast and Furious / Hobbs & Shaw

Summary: Based on "Imagine Deckard Shaw trying to ask you out." by @thefandomimagine

You watched Hobbs throw another soldier in the air as if he weighed nothing. The scream cut off sharply, as the body hit the ground.

"That must have hurt," you observed, casually leaning against the wall. The red alarm lights blazed around the facility.

"He'll be fine, just a few broken bones," Deckard wiped the blood off his face, standing next to you.

With a strange sort of detachment, you watched as a new surge of soldiers ran to face Hobbs. Quite a number of them were already lying on the ground.

"Maybe we should help him?" you suggested. Hobbs had run out of bullets some time ago and was now using whatever wasn’t bolted to the floor. With his height, he reached a lot of things.

Deckard pulled a face.

"Look at him, he's doing just fine."

Hobbs roared. A soldier hesitated before pulling the trigger. The weapon was ripped out of his hands.

You whistled quietly. Deckard rolled his eyes.

"Come on, since when are you a fan of brute force?"

"Maybe since that brute force could crack my skull open with one hand?" you laughed, noticing his grimace. "Come on, Deck, that's impressive and you know it."

Deckard ostentatiously looked at his watch. You already had what you came for and were waiting for Hobbs to finish off the rest of the guards.

"Impressive or not, if he doesn't pick up the pace, we won't get out in time for lunch."

"It's not like we'd be allowed into any restaurant anyway. We still got that warrant on our heads."

Deckard shot you a quick, careful glance. This was his chance. Even standing so close to you, it was difficult to read your expression.

"Well," he started. "I know a nice, quiet place if you wanted to-"

A body slammed into the wall between Deckard and you. Something cracked.

With all eyes back on him, Hobbs, almost out of breath, stared angrily at you.

"Thanks for the help."

You laughed breezily, pushing from the wall.

"Come on, it's not like you actually needed any."

You found a car nearby and moved to start it. Without the keys, probably well hidden in one of the bad guys' pockets, it was going to take a moment.

Hobbs watched you go. Deckard stormed up to him, buzzing with anger. His fists itched and he wished he could wipe that smirk off the man's face.

"I see what you're doing," he growled through gritted teeth. "You're an asshole."

Hobbs laughed, crossing his arms over his wide chest. He was showing off his muscles on purpose and savored the look on Deckard’s face.

"Well, then maybe, Mr. Subtle, you should try something less subtle next time?"

He knew how many times Deckard had tried to ask you out in the past- after all, it would be difficult to hide something so obvious while being on the same team. Well, you managed not to notice, but you had a lot on your mind lately.

"Interrupt me again and I'm going to rip your bald head off and play-"

"BOYS," you leaned from the driver's seat. "We gotta go."

They looked where you were pointing, and noticed reinforcements coming their way. A lot of reinforcements.

With a final look of mutual hatred, they rushed to the car.