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fanfics-i-find-here · 29 days ago

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Do I know you? Part 2

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason, not Red Hood, “checks” on you. Cue the shortest/ longest conversation you have had with the man.

Or in other words, is this flirting?

Notes: There is no planned plot for this if anyone can tell. Just running on vibes.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Your presumption of a long night was regrettably accurate. The annoyance of it all makes you want to chuck your alarm against the wall. But alas, being an adult mattered more and you need money, so work it is. You pray for it to be a busy day so you can forget your embarrassment from the night before.

Clocking into work makes you confident in the fact that it will be busy. You slide into your routine as a waitress at Jackie’s Books and Coffee, greeting customers and delivering drinks and pastries to them. You chat with a few of the regulars as they come in, and you listen as they yap about their lives. As you make another round, you greet another regular.

His name was Jason and that’s all you really knew. He wasn’t like many of the other customers who liked to talk about anything and everything to you. He usually only got coffee and read a book. The one time he did actually talk to you was when you mentioned you had never read a Jane Austen book. It was like that was the only thing that mattered in the world. He ranted at you for 15 minutes about it and you didn’t have the heart to step away. He was cute when he was passionate.

He sat down at his usual table and pulled out a book. You went to work with his order, he always got the same thing. You sat the cup in front of him and asked, “What’s the book for the day?”

You try to glance at the cover but find the front cover blank, a fancy hardcover. Not finding the answer there you meet his gaze to wait for his response. You're startled for a moment by the familiarity of his features. Of course, his features were familiar to you, he was a regular but there was something different this time around. A scar on his lip and his cheek-

“Dracula” your thoughts are cut off by his voice, suddenly strangely familiar too, and you focus in on the conversation.

You smile, “I actually have read that one.”

You are half tempted to add, might be better than Jane Austen, but you decided you still want to work for the next half hour. You settle on, “Hollywood definitely got that one wrong, so much for the undead being sexy.” You joke.

His laugh comes out a little startled and you’re proud of the accomplishment. He usually looks so sullen in his corner booth, although that might just be because he’s so focused on his book.

“I don’t know, Hollywood might be onto something.” He says it like it’s an inside joke, but you feel like you missed the punchline.

“Maybe,” you say with a polite laugh, “Did you want anything else?” you ask.

He shakes his head. Not a huge shocker, he never wants anything but his drink and his book.

“Just let me know if you do.” You walk away slowly as you try to push down the weird familiar feeling you’re having all of a sudden. You check in with a few customers and, with a lull in commotion you settle into a chair next to the register. Bless Jackie for having one, your feet slowly starting to ache as the end of your shift draws near. Darla, one of the other waitresses comes to stand close to you. She leans in with a conspiratory look.

“So, you get his number?” she questions, her Gothamite accent heavy. Your head whips to look at her and you almost knock noses.

“What?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but your tone pitches up. Her lips twist into a grin and you’d think it evil if you didn’t already know her. Darla was nearly 50 years old, and she reminded you of a self-proclaimed “Fun Aunt” who liked to be in on all the gossip and had no sense of personal space. She had been goading you to date someone, anyone, just so she could be all up in your business. Because according to her, you were the most boring person she’d ever met.

“The hottie, did you get his number?” she asks again as she pulls out a compact mirror to brush some fly-aways from her face.

“First of all, I still don’t know who you’re talking about.” You do but that’s neither here nor there. “Second, you can’t just call customer’s Hotties, Darla, that weird.”

She scoffs and snaps her compact closed. “All right, Scarface over there. Did you get his number?”

You practically jump at her to cover her mouth. “Darla!”

She pushes your hand away with a grin. “Don’t worry Baby doll. It makes him look hot in a rugged way.”

“Darla, I swear-“you're cut off by a throat clearing. You turn to see a college student awkwardly waiting at the register. Your face flushes and you drop your hands from Darla and through on a customer service smile.

“Hi, sorry about that. How can I help you?” You manage to stay away from Darla for the rest of your shift, checking on customers probably more than necessary. It's 5 o’clock when your shift finally ends. You brush by Darla to clock out and she follows you.

“You gonna answer my question or not?” Ever persistent for an older woman.

“No, Darla, I did not get Jason’s number” You pointedly use his name, so she won’t use Scarface or Hottie again.

“Oh, First name basis.” She teases.

You roll your eyes and pull off your apron to hang it up. You turn and look at her.

“Goodbye Darla,” you say sweetly with a too cheesy smile. It's her turn to roll her eyes as she goes back to work. You collect your purse and jacket and head for the front door of the shop. The early fall weather not having kicked in yet, you carry your jacket on your arm. Focused on pulling your purse over your head, you nearly run into a mass.

“Oh Sorry,” you say as you take a step back.

“No, you’re okay. I shouldn’t have bullied my way in front of you.” A deep voice speaks. You look up and meet blue-green eyes. Jason.

“I hardly think someone so passionate about Jane Austen could do any Bullying” You see Jason flush a little at the comment but don’t say anything. He holds the front door open for you. You thank him as you hurriedly shuffle through the open door. He follows you out onto the warm sidewalk. Assuming your conversation is done you head down the sidewalk with your arms crossed in front of you holding your jacket. As you walk you become very conscious of the man next to you. You glance at him curiously but don’t comment.

You take your time walking with him silently. You're not in a rush to get home, darkness still a few hours away. You should be worried. You’re not though. Jason has never struck you as a bad guy. Call it energy or vibe or what have you (ranting about Jane Austen). He just wasn’t bad. Intimidating? Yes, but not bad. As you walk you give some subtle side glances. He was very… Large. You didn’t know how else to describe him. Nearly a whole head taller than you and muscular. Yeah, he could definitely pick you up and carry you. You flush, not that that mattered. Your eyes get drawn back to his face. You know those scars; you swear up and down that it's not just because he’s a regular. They’ve never stuck out to you like this, and you can’t figure out why. In your (not so) subtle side-eye, you meet his gaze. He’s already smiling at you, but you don’t linger on it dropping your gaze to the concrete.

“Heading home?” He asks, tilting his head toward you.

You look up to meet his gaze, intense in the stare and unsure if he's just like that or dissecting you. This is the longest amount of time you’ve spent actually near him without tending to customers.

“Uh, yeah?” you ask yourself. Of course, you're going home; where else would you go? But why would you tell him that? You don’t think Jason would do anything bad to you; he is still, at most, an acquaintance, and you don’t really know him. (Not that it matters considering you let a literal stranger into your home the night before.) If he senses your hesitation and worry, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I wish I was.” He admits but quickly adds on, “Going to my home, not yours. That would be weird, I don’t really know you.” His voice drops quieter as he trails off. He rubs at the back of his neck, a light flush on his cheeks. The man in a flustered state must give you some courage.

“Yeah, that would be weird,” you tease, “Although maybe not a bad thing.” You quiet for a moment and think is this good flirting?

“If you're not going home, then where are you going?” You ask both curious about the answer and if it’ll explain why he's still walking with you.

His flush darkens and he mumbles for a moment and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Leather Jacket…

“Family required dinner,” he says it like it’s the worst thing in the entire world, sitting next to nuclear weapons and climate change.

“That sounds fun” You try to keep a neutral tone because a family dinner does sound fun, to you, but he, apparently, thinks otherwise.

“Oh, loads of it,” he says with a scowl.

You decide a variety of things at that moment. First, he was unfairly attractive. Scowling should not look that good. Second, you want to stop him from scowling, a sadness sitting just behind his eyes. Thirdly, Darla was, unfortunately, correct. You should get this guy's number.

“at least tell me there's dessert.” You ask teasingly. Your inquiry is enough to chase away the scowl and you smile at the fact.

“Only the best homemade cookies in existence” he responds with a smile.

“At least there's something good.” You slow your walk as you come to the corner where your apartment building sits. You don’t want to give away that you live here, but you don’t want to start wandering around the streets of Gotham with him either. As it turns out, your overthinking is unnecessary.

“This is me.” He states as he walks to a parked motorcycle right in front of the building. You can't help but stare.

“Will you make it home safe all alone?” he asks like he already knows the answer. It takes you a moment to answer, distracted as he pulls a helmet out of the back seat of the bike, preparing to put it on. The leather made more sense now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it'll be no problem. I don’t live far.” You gesture further down the street, where you definitely did not live. He nods and smiles knowingly as he slips the helmet on.

“Okay see you later, sweetheart.” He says as he slings a leg over the bike, starting. You stare, again, at the denim of his jeans stretching over his legs nicely. He gives you a wave before taking off down the street, turning a corner. You stand and stare at the spot he had just been for much longer than you should have. You let a quiet “Bye” leave your lips despite him being long gone.

You finally turn around to your apartment building. How convenient that was. You pet one of the stray cats that sit on the steps as you climb them and enter the building, thinking Am I missing something?

Other Note: Thank you for all the love for the first part. It inspired me to keep going. I hope this makes some kind of sense.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #fanfics-i-find-here #Kandywrites #do i know you?

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formylovetodaryldixon · 10 days ago

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"On a snowy day." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

On a snowy day, Daryl's daughter tells him about an interesting conversation between you and Aunt Maggie, but Marley ends up spilling the beans to Carol too about her daddy's worst fear.

A/N: Just another sweet and funny imagine about Daryl and his daughter hehe another one to add to the list :) "My everything." "A whole new world." "For life." "Make you happy." Hope you like it♥

The whole street, the whole block, all of Alexandria is covered in snow, painting the world of the living white after being blood red for so many years. The green of the leaves has disappeared under the cold season, snowmen on every house as a reminder of the past. Snowflakes sway in a gentle dance in the evening breeze, under a sky that changes color with the passing of the hours.

On her way back home, holding her daddy’s hand, Marley’s little world seems infinite at 5 and a half years old. Her winter boots sink into the snow, lifting it slightly with each step she takes. Her brown hair is identical to her father’s, a little messy under her white wool hat.

“The shot still hurt, angel?” Daryl has to look down to meet his daughter’s gaze, blue eyes looking back at him, deeply. “Ya want daddy to carry ya the rest of the way?”

Marley nods, because the walk back from visiting her mom in the infirmary was too long for her little legs.

“Please, daddy.”

Daryl smiles as his ears fill with the tender, sweet voice of his daughter calling him daddy, a voice he learned to recognize ever since Marley said her first word. He has to bend down to pick her up, holding her against his chest as she hugs him close, his forearms beneath her, her small arms around his neck.

“Why are ya so cute, huh?” Daryl smiles as he sets off again for the walk home. “Ya do that on purpose, don’t ya? Is that yer master evil plan? To make daddy love ya so much he can’t breathe?”

Marley laughs, her gaze locked with her father's eyes, the corners of her lip curling into a smile as she continues to learn to understand the depth of Daddy's words, but before she can respond, a neighbor's wave from her front porch forces them both to look to the right.

Daryl lets out a small hey back without stopping, followed by a nod before turning back to his daughter, but Marley’s eyes are still on the woman they leave behind.

“Sweetheart…” He uses his arms under her body to rock her once, softly, getting her to look back in his direction. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Marley holds a thoughtful expression, her brow furrowing slightly with the seriousness of her little thoughts at her short 5 years old. But Daryl can’t help but smile, because that expression is identical to yours when you both didn’t like something.

“Aunt Maggie told mommy that Mrs. Ellie likes to stare at you too much when you leave the house in your sleeveless shirt in the summer. She said the neighbor was a female version of a dog, but I don’t know what that means, daddy.”

Hearing her words, Daryl has to make an enormous effort not to laugh.

“Mommy said that? Or was it Aunt Maggie?”

“Aunt Maggie...” Marley tilts her head to the side, still thoughtful. “But Mommy said we needed to get you some baggier clothes, or burn that shirt, or maybe just get rid of the neighbor, but I don’t know what that means either.”

It’s hilarious for Daryl at the new information, though he does his best to remain cool, but there’s also something daring in your words, a compliment to his body even though he wore those clothes without a thought for others. Well, he knew he did it to get your attention, but not the rest of the world’s. Daryl also knew that kids didn’t know how to keep secrets, no matter if they knew or not that some things weren’t supposed to be said.

And he can’t help but smile.

“Oh yeah? And what else mommy said about daddy, Marley?”

Marley’s expression changes as in her mind, she starts putting the words mommy and daddy together.

“Mommy told Aunt Maggie that you’re still very hot, like living forever on a summer day.” Daryl chuckles as does his daughter, having a blast with your unfiltered words, though he also knew that he had to teach his daughter later that listening to adult conversations was wrong. “Is that a good thing, daddy?”

“Well… that means mommy finds daddy attractive.”

Marley nods slightly.

“So you are handsome, because you are.” She smiles, because to her, Daddy was the most handsome man in the community. Daryl shakes his head, because his reserved personality still prevented him from seeing himself the way others did. “Mommy said she really likes your long hair.”

The corner of his lip curls into a smile, loving the way Marley’s small hands brush away the strands of hair that usually cover part of his eyes.

“Maybe Daddy should tell Mommy that he really likes her too.”

Marley lets out a sweet laugh, hugging his neck again.

“You stare at Mommy a lot, Daddy. Last week at Uncle Rick’s house, he told his wife that you couldn’t take your eyes off your wife.”

Even in the dead of winter, Daryl can feel the sudden warmth on his cheeks, spreading throughout his body as he climbs the steps of his front porch, walking over to the rocking chair in the corner to sit in it with Marley on his lap, her little legs swinging out on either side.

“Yes, daddy likes to look at mommy a lot, angel, and s'cause mommy is a pretty thing to look at.”

Marley thinks for a few seconds, trying to understand such simple words that at the same time hide a deep meaning.

“The love you and mommy have for me, is it the same as yours for mommy?”

Daryl has to think about his answer for a few seconds, trying to explain with words that his daughter can understand, the love he had for her and for his wife.

“S'the same, but different. Mommy and daddy love ya with all their hearts, angel, 'cause ya came into our lives to make everythin' better. And daddy loves mommy with all his heart too, that’s why I asked mommy to be ma wife, so she’d be stuck with me for life.” Daryl tries not to laugh as he remembers that that was what he told you when you got married. “Mommy and daddy love each other a lot too, and ya were born from that love.”

Marley holds his gaze, her little mind trying to process his words.

“Aunt Maggie asked Mommy if you two were thinking about having another baby.” Marley tilts her head again, looking at her daddy with blue eyes that sparkle with curiosity. “Are we having another baby at home, Daddy?”

Daryl smiles as he uses one hand to tuck a strand of his daughter’s hair behind her ear, but for him, it’s a relief to see his daughter willing to share her place as queen of the house.

“Dun know, angel. Daddy thinks it might be a good idea for ya to have a little brother or sister at some point, but that’s Mommy’s decision. S'her body that has to carry the baby, and Daddy ain't pressurin' Mommy into doin' anything she’s not comfortable with, okay?”

Marley nods.

“But maybe if we ask Santa for a baby, he can bring one and Mommy won’t have to carry my little brother or sister inside her.”

Daryl laughs, but he too is at peace with the idea that his daughter’s innocence was still intact in that cruel world.

“That’s an excellent idea, angel.” His hand, warm despite the season, caresses his daughter’s soft cheek. “If s'okay with Mommy, I know ya’ll be a great big sister.”

Marley smiles at the touch of her daddy’s fingers against her skin, not even noticing that his hand was calloused, somewhat rough, because he always caressed her cheek softly, so gently that she never noticed Daryl’s insecurity the first time he thought he would hurt her skin.

“You, Daryl Dixon…” Marley giggles, because she never used her daddy’s real name, because to her, he had always been daddy. “You’re a good daddy. The best daddy in the whole world.”

Like the snow melting when the weather leaves winter behind, Daryl feels an overflowing love for his little daughter, his baby, his angel, feeling her love that managed to melt those fears he harbored inside him, the mistaken idea that he would never be the father Marley deserved.

“Can ya stay this little forever, angel? Can ya promise daddy ya will never leave his side?”

Marley tries not to laugh, making an effort to keep a serious expression to match her promise.

“I’ll never leave your side, daddy. I promise.”

Daryl smiles, and when he does, his expression softens, always, and his blue eyes become warm as he takes in how identical his daughter is to him.

“What’s this beautiful couple doing here?” Carol’s sweet voice draws their attention, and Marley has to turn to look at her, smiling the instant she recognizes her. Daryl pulls her off his lap, and his daughter clings to Carol’s body the moment she climbs the porch steps. “Are you better now, honey? Your mommy said you were getting a little sick.”

Marley looks up, smiling instantly.

“Yeah, Denisse gave me a shot. It hurt a little, but when she told daddy he should get one too to prove to me it didn’t hurt, daddy told her only his wife could touch his ass.”

Carol’s laughter drowns out Daryl’s embarrassment, embarrassment he tries to cover with a serious expression, but when she says goodbye minutes later and Marley climbs back onto her daddy’s lap, he has to keep the same expression so as not to give himself away.

“Marley, honey, s'okay when ya tell daddy that mommy thinks he’s attractive, but ya don’t have to tell everyone that daddy’s scared of shots, okay?”

Marley, though confused by the contradictory idea that always telling the truth is okay, nods before leaning back against Daryl’s chest, one side of her face feeling the softness of his long-sleeved black t-shirt that he always pulls up to his elbows. Daryl chuckles as he wraps his arms around her, like a refuge from the slight chill while they wait for mommy to come home. He shakes his head in disbelief, his long hair moving with him, because Daryl knows that when the day is over, his family, the family he made at the end of the world, will know that the man who survived a couple of gunshots and several fights is scared of shots.

Oh, but what the hell, because after marrying the love of his life and having a little girl as a daughter, everyone already knew that, despite his rough exterior, Daryl was a big softie (in a good way) for his girls.

@fluffy-dixon

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #dad!daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd

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reiderwriter · 8 months ago

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I have a hotch request and if you don’t write it I completely understand☺️

So you’re dating hotch for a couple months and you’ve only went over to his house like 5-6 times(so that’s how many times you’ve hung out with jack) anyway, you go to use the washroom or something before you leave to go home and jack asks his dad if you’re his gf and if you’ll be having a sleepover with them (as you’ve never actually stayed there before) and his heart becomes all warm n fluffy

A/N: Hi! I don't usually write for Hotch, but I decided to give it a crack because this fits pretty well for @imagining-in-the-margins KidFic challenge! It was a fun challenge to write, so thanks for the prompt! I changed it up slightly, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, step-family dynamics, etc.

10 months of casual dinners, midnight strolls, and stolen kisses, and you still weren't ready to accept that you were in love with your boss.

Aaron Hotchner was a complicated man, and loving him wasn't as simple as your heart wanted it to be. You worked together but rejected any favouritism he may have shown you. You slept together, but you never stayed in his bed. You kissed him, but you never told him you loved him, even though you were sure you did.

You just weren't sure you were ready to be a stepmother.

As a child of divorce, you'd been graced with two step-parents growing up, and while neither were story book evil, they weren't exactly the most welcoming either. You'd bounced between your mother and father's houses, trailing duffle bags, afraid to take up too much space for fear of ruining your parents’ newfound and direly earned happiness.

Jack had the misfortune of being both a child of divorce and having lost his mother entirely too young and entirely too suddenly.

When you'd joined the BAU, off the back of Haley Hotchner’s death, Aaron had been a man in mourning, a man scarred by circumstance and regret. But he'd been brave, and he'd been loving, and he'd worked so hard to give his son a good life.

Five years later, and it seemed obvious now that you had at least respected the man from the very beginning, if not pined for him quite openly.

There was that final hurdle left to cross, though, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready to do so.

A phone call startled you out of your worries as you sat on your couch, dissociating after a long and hard won case. The shrill ring startled you into action as you frantically searched for wherever it was this time that you left your phone.

“Hello, yes, I'm here, hi,” you said, finally finding the phone abandoned under some couch pillows.

“Y/N, it's Aaron.”

“I know, Aaron. Caller ID, welcome to the 21st century,” You couldn't help smiling into the receiver, so smitten with the man your face was just doing whatever it liked.

“Right. Look, I wouldn't usually overstep like this, but Jessica and I have to go upto Roy's retirement house, he's not dealing too well with the new environments, and all of Jack's regular babysitters are enjoying the spring weather. I'd ask his friends' moms for an impromptu playmate but-”

“But you'd rather he be with someone you trust? Aaron, it's fine, I'll come over and watch Jack for a few hours.”

He sighed into the receiver, and after a few more niceties, you ended the call, still grinning like an idiot.

You were still grinning like an idiot when your earlier anxiety came back and hit you straight in the chest. You'd met Jack before, but you'd not so subtly avoided any kid based conversations and meet-ups for the last 10 months.

You had no idea how to entertain a nine year old boy, but you decided quickly that you couldn't half ass it.

The drive to Hotch's house was almost embarrassingly familiar to you now, having been there so often in the past few months. Jack enjoyed regular sleepovers with his aunt and schoolmates so you could enjoy regular sleepovers with his father, a fact that you had to remind yourself to keep private as you knocked on the door.

“It's open,” Aaron called from inside, and you hesitantly opened the door and stepped in, bag of last-minute toy purchases stuffed under your arm.

From the door, you could see Aaron in the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water as he washed lunch dishes and pots, sticking his head out to smile at you.

“Aaron Hotchner, domestic goddess. Who’d have thought?”

“I'd ask you to keep this to yourself at work.”

“Of course,” you said, stepping a fraction closer to him. “Anything to keep the mystery alive.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and you reciprocated, letting it linger a second as you smiled into his touch.

Drying his hands on a towel near him, Aaron called across the apartment for Jack.

“What's up, Dad?” He asked, peeking out of his bedroom door.

“This is Y/N. She works with me and Uncle Rossi. She's going to take care of you for a while while me and Aunt Jessica and I visit your Grandpa. Come say hi.”

Creeping out of his room slowly, Jack came to stand just in front of his father's legs as Aaron put his hands on his shoulders, proudly showing off his mini doppelganger.

“Hi, I'm Jack.”

“Nice to meet you Jack, my name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it. You noticed how small his hands were, but how strong his grip was. He was confident, but he was still just a small kid, and you were even more motivated not to mess this up.

“What's in your bag?” He asked, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds, as if he was itching to stick his nose right into it.

“Jack, manners, please.”

“It's okay, Hotch. I brought some toys. Your dad mentioned that Santa's gave you a Nintendo at Christmas, and I thought I'd show you a few of my favourite games.”

His face lit up as he quickly stepped closer to you, hands on the bag as he waited for you to offer it up, now openly ogling the bags contents, knowing it was for him.

“You didn't have to bring anything, Y/N.”

“I wanted to make a good first impression.”

After being dragged to the nearest sofa and sitting through a five minute walk through of all the house rules, urgency exits and remote locations, you were left alone with Jack Hotchner, remotes in hand ready to play Mario Kart.

“Okay, now all that's left to do is choose the course you want to race on. Which one do you want to play on?”

Jack had chosen to use Bowser as his character and chosen Toadette for you quite cutely, and you'd quickly finished cart selection, too.

“We should go through them in order, so we complete them all,” he said after a moment of deliberation.

You giggled at how seriously he was taking it. And then the first race in the Mushroom Cup started, and you were seriously impressed by how quickly he'd picked up this game. Either kids were just better at video games in general, or you had a prodigy on your hands.

His serious face was a carbon copy of Hotch when he was hunched over paperwork, and he gave you the same quietly disapproving frown every time your character momentarily overtook his. It was adorable seeing the two reflected in one another.

By the shell cup, you were nearly exhausted, despite having spent the entire time glued to the couch.

“What do you think about taking a snack break?” You asked, looking over Aaron Jack, who had turned himself upside down on the couch somewhere in the last three matches and was still beating you.

“Okay. I'll show you where Dad hides the good snacks,” he said, quickly rolling off the couch as if his bones were liquid.

You, on the other hand, cracked as you stood, the irony not lost on you as you hobbled your way to the kitchen.

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Jack routed around for a few seconds before returning with a small box of Reeses Pieces, which you gradually accepted alongside a glass of apple juice.

“You're a good kid, Jack,” you said, ruffling his hair as he playfully swatted your hand away.

“Yeah, that's what my dad always says.”

“Your dad is a very smart man.”

He nodded and then went back to quietly eating his candy, somewhat lost in thought.

You weren't sure if you were supposed to ask him what he was thinking about, or avoid the topic and dive straight back into video games, so you just ate your candy, too, standing together in the kitchen, Mario Kart music playing in the background.

“Do you like my dad?” He suddenly asked, swallowing down one more bite of apple juice. You'd forgotten that kids were the bluntness people on the planet, not yet having learned the necessity of delicately creeping closer to the actual topic of discussions like adults.

Jack had landed a sucker punch right to your guy, and you were suddenly choking on Reese's Pieces.

“Umm,” you said, catching your breath again and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day on your face. “Yes, I respect your father a lot, Jack.”

“But do you like him?” He said again, eyes wide and expectant as he looked up at you.

“My dad can be a little scary sometimes. I heard some of my friends' moms saying so at Mitchell C's birthday party last week. They said he's scary, but he's so sad and lonely.”

Your heart sank in your chest as you watched Jack worry about his dad, worry if Aaron Hotchner was lonely or sad.

“Jack, your dad isn't lonely or sad. He has you, and Aunt Jessica, and-”

“And you, right? Because you like my dad?”

“R-Right. He has me, too.”

“Great. Let's keep playing. The Banana Cup is next.”

As suddenly as it had started, your serious talk with Jack was over and he bounced his way back to the sofa, clicking go on the next race, as you ran to quickly take your place again, too.

Five hours later, and you were being shaken softly awake, controller still in your hands as you blinked your eyes open. Somehow, it had gotten dark, and both you and Jack had simultaneously fallen asleep on the couch.

Now Hotch hovered over you, carrying the sleeping boy in his arms as he woke you up. He mouthed ‘coffee?’ and you nodded quickly, sitting up further and grabbing the nearest remote to turn off the Nintendo.

With Jack situated in bed quickly, you made your way to the kitchen. Aaron joined you after making sure Jack was still asleep, walking up behind you and wrapping two arms around your middle, leaning his head against your shoulder and exhaling. Despite the shiver down your spine, you leaned further into him, enjoying the feeling of him in your sleepy state.

“How was it?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You were almost sure that he was conducting this conversation from behind as a means of convincing himself not to read into your every movement and expression.

“It was great. He's a great kid, you know?”

“So I've been told.”

“He's worried about you, too. He said the moms at his school think you're scary and lonely. Which in suburban house mom translates to romantic hero, though I don't think he realizes that.”

You felt the grumble of a laugh behind you, the sound low and comforting as you let your eyes flutter closed again, content in his arms.

“Jack…misses his mom. Rebecca is great, but he likes talking to the moms at school. Maybe a little too much, I don't know.”

“You miss her, too.” It was a statement, not a fact.

“I do,” he said sadly, holding you tighter. “Is that a problem?”

“No. No, god no. Aaron, I-” your voice broke, and you hesitated slightly, clearing your voice. You squirmed in his grip until he released you enough to face him.

Doing so may have been a mistake, though, as you locked eyes with him and so desperately wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth with yours, and let him lift you onto his kitchen counters.

You squeezed your nails into the palm of your hands to ground yourself and took a steadying breath.

Which was when Jack decided to make a reappearance.

“Dad?” He said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you had only moments earlier.

You quickly broke apart as Aaron smiled disappointedly, almost as if he were expecting the interruption.

“Hey, bud. Did you sleep well?”

Jack nodded, tilting his head a little as though still disorientated.

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?”

“Sure did. Both of you, actually.”

Jack looked at you then and smiled sweetly up at his dad.

“So Miss Y/N is staying tonight?” He asked, suddenly a little excited and expectant.

“Well, Miss Y/N has her own house, so we can't just expect her to-”

“Yeah, I'm staying,” you blurted out, cutting off Hotch mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored him and smiled down at Jack.

“And if you head back to bed now, I'll make some pancakes for you in the morning,” you whispered conspiratorially with the boy, who raced back to his room.

Before shutting the door fully, he stopped by his dad and tugged him down to whisper level, saying something before yelling goodnight and taking himself back off to his room.

“What? What was that?” You pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Aaron.

“You first,” he laughed back, leaning on the nearby counter.

“I promised him pancakes in the morning. What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, pulling you closer to him again. “He just said you had an interesting conversation earlier.”

“Was it the one where he asked me if Mario speaks English, Italian or Japanese, because I couldn't answer that question for sure.”

“He said,” he leaned down to your ear to whisper the next words. “That you told him you like me. And he thinks you meant like-like.”

You flushed hot and avoided eye contact. A childish part of you wanted to deny it, to scoff and run away, like you were on the playground and not in a dimly lit kitchen at midnight. But you couldn't.

“I do. But I'd probably say love and not like-like, seeing as though I'm not nine.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, noses touching as he descended to capture your lips once more.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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moonselune · 5 months ago

Note

Okkayy I was wondering if I could rq dark au? Like. A genuine moment between the lot. Or maybe something like a Stockholm thing going on for them? I think that'd be interesting.

Also a question abt it! If there were Wyll one (not saying for you to add any ofc) what would you think it would be? Since he doesn't have a bad ending and everything.

i love love love this, so interesting to think what the reader would fall for, how they would let that guard down and I'll post a little explanation of where I was coming from for each character.

And I have had a lot of asks about Wyll, and I find it really difficult to picture it because he doesn't have a bad ending and despite all that he has been through he always strives to be good. I have tried to think of an evil Wyll and I have not had nor come across an idea that I can get behind - that being said if people want to pitch it to me, have at it x

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | With Sincerity

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, they are still bad people lmao

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Uh oh! They are breaking down your walls and a part of you is vulnerable

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The courtyard was alive with the sound of clashing weapons and sharp commands. Minthara's nieces moved with an impressive precision under her watchful eye, their small frames mirroring the grace and ruthlessness of their aunt. You stood in the shadow of an archway, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you.

Minthara was a vision of deadly elegance, her every movement purposeful and fluid as she demonstrated techniques to her eager students. Her hair, as white as fresh snow, caught the sunlight, and her eyes—so piercing and determined—flashed with an intensity that had once captivated you. You watched as she corrected their stances, her voice firm but not unkind. There was a harshness in her training, but beneath it lay a deep fondness, a protective instinct that she couldn't quite hide.

A pang of nostalgia hit you. You remembered the early days of your love, how you had fallen for her strength, her unyielding resolve. Minthara had always been a formidable warrior, but it was her rare moments of tenderness, the way she cared for her family, that had truly won your heart. You had married her not just for who she was, but for who she became when she was with you.

Lost in your reverie, you didn't notice Minthara approaching until she was right in front of you, her presence commanding your attention. She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked, her tone teasing but not unkind.

Without thinking, you found yourself leaning in, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that felt both natural and inevitable. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of you, connected in a way that transcended time and distance. Her lips were soft yet insistent, and the familiarity of her touch stirred something deep within you.

Reality crashed back in, and you pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding.

"I-I’m I-" you stammered, stepping back, your face flushing with embarrassment. "That was… I didn't mean to…"

Minthara's smirk was confident, almost smug. "It's alright," she said, her voice low and knowing. "I knew you would come back around to me eventually."

You shook your head, trying to regain your composure. "It was just a momentary lapse of sanity," you muttered, trying to brush off the intensity of what had just happened. "Don't read too much into it."

Turning on your heel, you walked away, your thoughts a chaotic mess. You were supposed to hate her, to resent what she had become. Yet, the kiss had felt like coming home, a reminder of the love that had once defined your life.

As you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw Minthara still standing there, a satisfied smile on her lips. She had always been confident, always sure of her place in your heart. And despite your best efforts to deny it, a part of you wondered if she was right.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. You lay in the lavish bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin. Shadowheart was next to you, her presence a mixture of comfort and control. For so long, your moments of lucidity had been frantic and panicked, each one a desperate attempt to cling to the truth before she stole it away again.

But tonight felt different. The usual haze in your mind was less oppressive, the usual fog that clouded your thoughts seemed to lift slightly. You felt a rare clarity, a sense of calm that you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. You looked at Shadowheart, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes closed in peaceful repose.

Without the usual panic, you found yourself studying her features—the soft curve of her lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked serene, almost vulnerable in sleep. You realized how deeply you had once loved her, how she had been your world before the darkness had consumed her.

You felt an overwhelming urge to be close to her, not out of fear or desperation, but out of a genuine desire for connection. You shifted slightly, curling into her, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

"You're awake," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Yes," you replied softly, your voice steady. "I… I feel different tonight. Not scared. Just… here."

She studied you, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, she could always tell when you were lucid and was always to prepared to seize that moment and crush it in her hands. "You don't feel panicked?"

You shook your head. "No. I feel… content. More at ease than I have in a long time."

A hint of a smile touched her lips, but it was cautious, as if she were afraid to believe it. "That's good," she said slowly. "Maybe it's the calm before the storm."

"No," you said, more firmly this time. "It's not. It's real. I want you to stay. Please."

Shadowheart's eyes widened slightly, genuine shock evident in her expression. For a moment, she didn't move, as if unsure how to respond. Then, she nodded, her movements careful, almost hesitant. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll stay."

She settled back into the bed, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of her body, the steady beat of her heart, it all felt so grounding, so real. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, a mixture of herbs and something uniquely her.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shadowheart tightened her hold on you, her fingers gently stroking your hair. "For what?" she asked, her voice a mere breath in the quiet room.

"For staying," you replied. "For this moment."

She sighed, a soft, contented sound. "I never wanted to hurt you," she said quietly. "I only wanted to protect you."

"I know," you said, and for the first time, you truly meant it. "I know."

The two of you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside forgotten. The clarity you felt wasn't fleeting or frantic. It was peaceful, a rare gift in the chaos that had become your life. And as you drifted off to sleep, Shadowheart's presence beside you, you held onto that feeling, hoping it would last, knowing that for tonight, at least, it was enough.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

The ethereal glow of Gale's realm was a constant reminder of the divine power he now wielded, a stark contrast to the mortal world you had once known. You and Gale had been watching over a young mortal named Elara, a gifted artist who had been struggling under the oppressive control of her art master. For months, you had observed her from afar, offering subtle guidance and protection as she navigated her difficult path.

Tonight, the culmination of your efforts bore fruit. Elara had finally broken free from her master's tyranny, gathering the courage to leave and start her own journey as an independent artist. You had seen the light of hope and determination in her eyes, and it had filled you with a profound sense of joy and accomplishment.

You and Gale stood together on a celestial balcony, overlooking the shimmering expanse of his realm. The stars above twinkled in celebration, mirroring the elation in your heart. Gale's arm was wrapped around your shoulders, a comforting presence that had grown familiar over time.

"She did it," you whispered, the words filled with awe and happiness. "Elara is finally free."

Gale smiled, his gaze soft as he looked down at you. "She found her strength, thanks to you. Your guidance gave her the courage she needed."

You turned to face him, the weight of the moment sinking in. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt genuinely happy. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around Gale, holding him tightly. He returned the embrace, his arms enveloping you in a warm, secure hold.

"It's not just me," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "You were there too, every step of the way."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We make a good team, don't we?"

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of your feelings. Instead, you just held him closer, savoring the rare moment of pure happiness. The tension and doubts that had lingered in your heart seemed to melt away in his embrace.

Gale gently pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes. "What is on your mind?" he asked, his voice tender and filled with curiosity.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nothing," you replied softly. "Just… this moment. I want to hold onto it, to remember this feeling forever."

He gazed at you with a mix of understanding and affection, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "We will have many more moments like this," he promised. "This is just the beginning."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you savored the warmth and comfort of his presence. "I hope so," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

For a while, you simply stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the celestial realm around you a silent witness to your shared joy. The stars continued to shine brightly, casting a gentle glow over the two of you. In that moment, everything felt perfect, and you prayed with all your heart that this bliss would last forever.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Acended Astarion:

The palace corridors echoed with your footsteps as you wandered aimlessly, a sense of ennui settling over you. The grand halls, adorned with opulent decorations and luxurious tapestries, had lost their allure after countless days of aimless exploration. The life of grandeur and power, alongside Astarion, had its moments of excitement, but today, the boredom felt particularly oppressive.

You sighed, turning a corner and heading towards your quarters. As you pushed open the heavy doors, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. The room was filled with fresh flowers, their vibrant colors and fragrant scents instantly lifting your spirits. They were your favorites—roses, lilies, and peonies, arranged in an exquisite display that seemed almost magical. Amidst the floral splendor, a delicate note caught your eye.

With a sense of curiosity, you picked up the note and unfolded it. The elegant handwriting was unmistakably Astarion's.

"Come to the throne room, my love."

A smile crept onto your lips as you tucked the note into your pocket. You made your way through the palace with a renewed sense of excitement, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As you approached the grand doors of the throne room, you could hear the soft strains of music floating through the air.

Pushing open the doors, you were met with a breathtaking sight. The throne room was transformed into a paradise of flowers and enchanted candles. The candles floated gently in the air, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated the room in a soft, romantic light. The flowers, arranged in intricate patterns, filled the air with their sweet fragrance. In the center of it all stood a small quartet, playing a melodious tune that added to the enchanting atmosphere.

And there, amidst the beauty and magic, stood Astarion. He was dressed in his finest attire, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and affection. As you stepped into the room, he approached you with a graceful elegance that made your heart skip a beat.

"Happy anniversary, my darling," he said, his voice a smooth blend of warmth and seduction.

You felt a rush of emotions—joy, love, and a touch of amazement at the effort he had put into this surprise. Astarion extended his hand to you, a charming smile playing on his lips.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel as though you were the only two people in the world.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool, firm grip of his fingers. He led you to the center of the room, the quartet's music swelling as you began to move in perfect harmony. Astarion's movements were fluid and graceful, guiding you effortlessly across the floor.

The two of you danced, lost in each other's eyes, the world around you fading into a blur of colors and music. As you swayed together, Astarion's gaze softened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Do you remember our first dance?" he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your thoughts drifting back to that magical night when you had first fallen for his charm.

"How could I forget?" you replied softly. "It was the night I knew I would be yours forever."

Astarion's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and affection. "And I knew that I would do anything to make you happy," he murmured. "Even if it means filling a throne room with flowers and enchanting candles."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You've outdone yourself," you said, gazing around the room. "It's perfect."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the music slowed. "Only the best for you, my love," he said, his voice a tender caress. "You deserve nothing less."

As the final notes of the music faded away, you found yourself clinging to Astarion, not wanting the moment to end. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in a long while, you felt a deep sense of contentment and happiness.

Astarion tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Nothing," you replied, smiling softly, and it was true you were in that moment completelyy thoughtless, and you relished in it.

Astarion chuckled and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the touch sending a thrill through you. You closed your eyes, savoring the kiss, the feel of his arms around you, and the love that surrounded you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The foal had been a source of constant worry for you. Rejected by its mother and frail from the start, you had spent countless nights by its side in the stables, nursing it with every ounce of your care and knowledge. The little creature's wide eyes and weak whinnies tugged at your heartstrings, making you more determined to save it.

Despite your best efforts, the foal's condition didn't improve. Its labored breathing and listlessness were heart-wrenching to witness. You fed it warm milk from a bottle, kept it warm with blankets, and whispered soothing words, but nothing seemed to help. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and desperation began to creep in.

Finally, with a heavy heart and reluctance, you decided to seek help from Halsin. You knew he had a deep connection with nature and animals, but the thought of turning to him—your captor, the one you were supposed to hate—filled you with conflicting emotions. Yet, the foal's life was more important than your pride.

Finding Halsin in his quarters, you hesitated at the door before knocking softly. He opened it, surprise flickering in his eyes as he saw you standing there, tired and disheveled.

"I need your help," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "The foal… it's not getting better."

Halsin's expression softened, and without a word, he followed you to the stables. Together, you tended to the foal, his hands gentle and confident as he examined the tiny creature. He murmured incantations and applied poultices made from herbs you couldn't identify, his connection to the natural world evident in every movement.

Hours turned into days, and you and Halsin worked side by side, taking turns to watch over the foal, feeding it, and keeping it warm. The nights were long and filled with anxious moments, but slowly, the foal began to show signs of improvement. Its breathing became steadier, and it started to gain strength.

One evening, as the foal nuzzled against your hand with newfound vigor, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Exhausted and sleep-deprived, you turned to Halsin, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

"Thank you, Halsin," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the gesture spontaneous and sincere.

Halsin's eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. You quickly pulled back, realizing what you had done. The weight of your situation came crashing down, reminding you that you were still technically a prisoner.

"I'm sorry," you stammered, feeling embarrassed. "I didn't mean to…"

But Halsin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's alright," he said softly. "You've been through a lot. We both have."

The exhaustion was finally catching up with you, and you swayed on your feet. Halsin reached out to steady you, his touch firm and reassuring. "You need to rest," he said gently.

You pouted, a playful glint in your eyes. "Carry me to bed?" you asked, half-jokingly.

Halsin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're perfectly capable of walking," he teased, but there was warmth in his eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and pouted even more. "Please? I'm too tired to walk."

With a fond smile, Halsin finally relented. He scooped you up in his strong arms, carrying you with ease. You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cared for in a way you hadn't expected. As he carried you to your quarters, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of contentment, despite the complexities of your relationship.

He laid you gently on the bed, tucking the blankets around you. "Rest now," he said softly.

You smiled up at him, your eyes heavy with sleep. "Thank you, Halsin," you whispered, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that for now, everything was alright.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay okay so here is my viewpoint for each reader opinion of course please project your own on why they had this moment and I would love to hear your thoughts as well down below !

Minthara - I imagine reader fell for Minthara because of her determination her drive, and Minthara training her nieces shows that but also the softer side that only reader would have seen. So everyone would be seeing Minthara as just being cutthroat and ruthless with her nieces but reader sees it as Minthara training them so that they survive because she cares for them, dearly. That's what causes reader's heart to open and get that impulse to kiss her.

Shadowheart - So I imagined reader having these frantic episodes, lashing out at shadowheart having a meltdown till shadowheart removes her memories again and you calm down and the cycle continues. So eventually, you get a lucid moment and instead of being panicked, you are just exhausted and tired and as you watch her you are just seeking comfort, need comfort. Hence her asking shadowheart to stay.

Gale - Gale's reasoning is pretty short, because reader is immortal and just needs a win at that point and gets caught up in it when she finally gets that W.

Astarion - I see reader as being so bored snd helpless and when Astarion woos her in this way that seems so genuine, has so much emotion attached to it, you have to let your heart fall for it. You just have to.

Halsin - So with this reader I see them throwing themselves into caring for animals to distract themselves from their situation and they pour so much love and attachment into this foal because really they see themselves in it. The foal has been rejected from it's family, reader has been ejected from theirs. The foal is ill and struggling, confined to the stables, reader is mentally unwell and confined to Halsin's grove. When reader sees the foal has no way out apart from death they cannot handle that so they turn to Halsin who they know will be able to help the foal. Much like how reader cannot handle that their only way out is death, so subconciousluy they lean on Halsin. Survival instincts babyyyyyyyy

Anyway hope you guys enjoyed it and the little breakdown of it, and I would love to hear your thoughts below - Seluney xox

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months ago

Text

Obsidian Salt II

Part 2 of my Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys fic

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, mental manipulation, brief mentions of sacrifices/blood

------------------------------

“Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

His clawed hand still grips my throat, tight enough to make stars start dancing across my vision. All attempts at pulling him off, pushing him away, fail miserably.

“You’re shaking, Witchling,” he coos, his breath warm on my neck as he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, laughing in dark amusement to my plight. “What’s the matter?”

I bash my fists against his solid, and very bare, chest uselessly. “Let go!”

Rhysand, Prince of Hel, hums, as if thinking, then suddenly drops me in a rush, my limp body falling onto the cracked stone floor without the support of his weight. Dried anise and rosemary crushes under my palms--another failed attempt at warding off evil. Our books are clearly outdated.

My coughing must attract attention, because the door leading down into our decrypt little basement swings open, the old wood hitting the door with a horrendous crack. I glance at the demon I’d accidentally summoned in a panic, if he gets out, I’ve doomed my entire coven!

But the violet eyed demon merely grins wickedly as he dissolves into shadow and smoke, taking my grandmother’s tome, and the spell that would rid me of him, with him into the dark recesses of the basement. I can still feel him there, his icy power chilling the room, but he has no solid shape.

“What are you doing down here?” My grandmother, the leader of our coven, sounds worn and tired and she has used that weathered lilt to worm her way into many enemy’s houses, just to smite them with a snap of her fingers. She may look old and feeble, but it is all a ruse to get people to let their guard down, and once that happens, she can pluck whatever she wants from their open hands.

I’d idolized her as a child. I wanted so badly to prove to her and my mother that I could be just as good a witch as them, but I have nothing to show for it but the scattering of obsidian salt and a Prince of Hel I just let into our home.

I scramble to my feet, mind spinning as I try to figure out how I will explain all this. Though, that becomes useless a moment later when the evidence of my transgressions disappears, as if they never existed. All the dried herbs, the salt in the summoning circle, even my chalk runes are gone. It is just me and a couple of candles in the basement by the time my grandmother makes it down the stairs.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, child,” she snarls, her gnarled cane stomping angrily against the final step.

She can’t see or smell what I have done. Does that free me or doom me? And how the Hel did it disappear like that? It certainly wasn’t me, which means Rhysand, for some reason, is hiding the evidence.

“I was…” my throat burns, I run a hand over it absently, hoping the darkness hides the claw shaped indents in my skin. There will surely be bruises too. “Practicing! For the Solstice!” The lie isn’t as smooth as I’d like, but it will be better than the truth.

My grandmother’s worn head swivels to look around the empty basement, her wrinkled mouth pinched in a permanent frown that looks extra deep today. “What have you decided to show us?” There is nothing but disappointment in her tone, even though there is nothing here for her to be disappointed in.

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

Her cane is made from the first tree ever planted in this town, scared with runes and blessings and imbued with enough magic to power the city’s mage lights for a year; she uses it to smack me in the shoulder, her strength still startling even though I know there’s more to her than the slight hunchback.

“Do not disappoint me as you always do,” she hisses.

Shame floods me. I am always the disappointment. Always the let down. My sisters are natural talents. My aunts born with such intense magic they have to go on annual retreats to expel it. My mother hunts men for sport. And I am the girl who was so desperate to be something, she went to a book of dark magic for help.

I hang my head. “Grandmother, I have a confession.” I should just get it over with. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I don’t possess enough magic to send a demon back to its realm. I will need her help. Better to break the bargain I’d made than wait for it to blow up in my face.

She sighs like this conversation just might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “What now?”

“I-” I try to tell her, really I do, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. It feels as if something’s lodged itself in my throat.

Shit, maybe Rhysand damaged my vocal chords!

“I-” I try again the words catch as before. It is not as if I am choking, there is nothing redistricting my airway, I’m not struggling to breathe, but no matter how hard I try to admit my sins, the words stick.

She smacks me with the cane again. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, I-” A dark, sensual laugh slithers its way into my head, as if he’d done it in my ear.

She throws up her hands and turns away. “I better not see any of this nonsense at the Solstice. Or you’ll be the sacrifice to the Goddess.”

“Come now, Darling, did you really think I’d let you tell her about our little bargain?” Even mentally his voice is a deep purr that makes a shiver run down my spine. He is thoroughly embedded in my head, I can feel the dark shadow of him sitting like a cat curled up in the back of my skull. Every time I try to mention him, his icy power flows through me.

My grandmother slams the basement door shut behind her, and only then does Rhysand materialize from the corner of the room, leisurely stretching out his great wings as if awakening from a nap. Whatever magic he used to hide the room falls away, leaving the salt and herbs visible once more.

“What did you do to me?” I snarl.

He chuckles as he tucks his wings back behind his lythe body. “We had a bargain, any interference with that bargain will leave you in a similar state of discomfort. If not worse.”

I rub a hand over my throat. “You’re a bastard!”

He saunters closer, footsteps silent on the worn stones. I find myself shrinking back against the wall as he approaches again.

“You summoned me, Darling, this is the bed you get to lie in.”

“You tricked me,” I snarl.

He’s close enough now that I can smell the jasmine and citrus scent of him, mingled with a faint hint of smoke. Close enough that I can read the runes etched into his bronze skin, the markings ancient and sharp. If he was anyone else, anything else, I would be tempted to reach out and touch, trace the swirling shapes over his defined chest and shoulders.

“Tricked you?” He frowns as he braces his hand on the wall above my head, effectively caging me in against the rough stone. “You summoned me, Witchling, and in case you missed that delightful little threat from the crone, I am your only salvation from a Solstice sacrifice.”

“What kind of demon could be my salvation?” I retort.

He uses the hand not bracing himself against the wall to take my chin between two of his claws, tilting my head up to look at him. I have never felt smaller than I do at this moment.

“You have no idea what I could give you, if you only asked,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes drift to my lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own as he watches the way my breath hitches in my throat when he speaks. “I could show you power you have only dreamed of; offer cities on their knees to you. There is nothing I can’t give you.”

I can see it, as clearly as if it was happening in front of my eyes: Power, glittering and dark pouring from my fingertips, consuming everything in its path; droves of fragile, powerless humans bowing at my feet, their arms laden with gifts and tribute. I didn’t think I wanted things like that. Power was the pursuit of my grandmother, never an option for me. But the feeling of it, even in a vision is enough to make my head spin. Could I really feel like that?

“You desire power, Witchling, that’s why you summoned me, isn’t it?” He whispers, claws drifting down my throat in a sensual caress.

I nod, too scared to speak, too ashamed to admit that he is right, to admit that I am gullible and weak willed enough to even entertain the possibilities spinning through my head.

“Aren’t you tired of being forgotten? Cast aside? Belittled?”

His hand drifts lower, following the stuttering pulse of my heartbeat down my chest. I should shy away from his touch, but my body shivers under his ministrations instead. I can’t look away from him, from the pretty images he spins round and round in my head like it’s his own personal movie screen.

“Aren’t you tired of being good and quiet and ignored?”

He’s so close now if I tilt my head up I’ll brush my lips against his. My own gaze flicks to those full, sensual lips. Perhaps power is not the only thing I want, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I don’t want him. It’s like everything has been emptied out of my head except for him.

“Yes,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like mine, like I’m entranced somehow but I don’t know how to break the spell, how to tell if this is me or if it’s him.

“Just a taste is all it takes, Darling,” he closes the gap just enough to brush his lips over mine. It isn’t cold or unyielding like last time, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my suddenly flushed skin.

My body chases after him like it’s starved, hand reaching up to tangle in the long strands of his dark hair. He lets me pull him back, lets me slot my lips over his. When he kisses me back there is no longer ice in it, only an all consuming warmth that floods my system like water breaking through a damn.

He kisses like a desperate male; all tongue and teeth, fangs scraping against my lower lip as he takes and takes from me. And I let him. Damn me! I let him push me back against the wall, let his hands slide down my body until he can lift me up and wrap my legs around his trim waist. He tastes like smoke and jasmine and endless possibilities. When his lips are on mine I feel infinite. Under his grip I should feel helpless and frail as I always do, but like this, I think I might just be able to be anything.

A bit of shadow slips from his lips when he finally pulls away, the smoky haze drifting along our shared breath as he puts his lips to my throat. He’s everywhere, in my head and under my skin, everywhere but where I think I need him the most.

His fangs scrape against my throat as I tilt my head back against the wall, letting him have free reign to do with my body as he pleases. “Doesn’t this feel better?” He purrs, the vibrations of his voice against my flushed skin making a shiver race down my spine.

“Yes,” I gasp when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the coppery scent of blood in the air telling me he’s marked me as his before the pain registers.

Rhys laves over the wound with his tongue. “Never again will you feel small, or powerless,” he says lowly. “Your coven will bow to you. They will regret ever doubting you.”

I rock my hips into his, desperate for some sort of friction. “You-you could really do that?” Words are hard against the images still spinning around inside my head, competing with the feel of his warm body between my legs and his teeth still nipping at my shoulder.

“You need only to say two little words, and all of it is yours, Witchling,” he purrs, lips making their way back up my throat.

When he kisses me again, there’s the coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue. “Tell me your mine and it will be done.”

My head is starting to feel fuzzy, the room spinning as the images in my head all start to blur together. The stars in his eyes start to twirl around his irises, for a second the movement takes all the color out of his irises, until there is nothing but black emptiness. I blink away the strange vision.

“I-” Upon my hesitation, his lips are back on mine again, his hands exploring my body, slipping beneath my shirt to trace patterns in my skin. I think his claws might scratch marks into my sensitive flesh but my head is too empty to pay it any mind. What’s a little blood?

“Say it,” he presses, voice a husky whisper that makes heat flare in my core. I want to know what other things he might whisper in my ear with that tone. “Say your mine. Let me give you everything you deserve.”

I do deserve more than this. For too long I have been forgotten and ignored or belittled for being a waste of space. I’m tired of it! For once, I want to make people fear what I am capable of. I want people to regret casting me aside when they see me.

“I’m yours, Rhysand,” I say.

Something hot, like a brand inks its way across my spine. So intense and blistering that I scream. He swallows that sound with another kiss, tongue swiping behind my teeth as my body writhes against the blinding pain.

“It’s ok,” he coos, “just my sigil, so everyone knows who you belong to. It won’t hurt much longer.”

Another kiss is all it takes for me to forget entirely why there are tears streaming down my cheeks. My head feels so incredibly emtpy.

He runs his tongue over my cheek, licking away the tear streaks that feel so foreign on my flushed skin. “See, that’s better, isn’t it, Witchling?”

I nod even though I can’t remember what he’s referring to. Of course I feel good, he’s here, holding me, whispering sweet things in my ear while his hands roam over my skin.

He grins, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “We will have everything we deserve, Darling, and more when we’re done with them.”

“Them?” Were we talking about someone? I don’t remember.

The stars really do wink out of his eyes, the violet rapidly disappearing until there is nothing but unending darkness. His wings flare out behind him, apex talons sharpening until the form points. Shadows seep from his shoulders in rolling waves, until their darkness fills the room. “The witches of course. We have unfinished business with them.”

I think, maybe, there is something wrong with the way he looks, some old instinct in me trying to warn me to run. But I reach out a hand and brush it curiously over the ridge of his wing, feeling the leathery membrane shutter beneath my touch.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask.

He lowers me onto the floor and places a big, worn tome in my hands. I feel a flash of recognition in the back of my mind, but before I can place it, the memory is ripped away by a tendril of shadow. “Let’s start with burning a few books, hm? Then we have some Solstice sacrifices to make.”

------

Tag List: @girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #demon!rhys #demon!Rhys x reader #demon x witch #acotar au #witchcore #acotar fic #spooky szn fic #my writing #my fanfiction #acotar rhys #dark!rhys #dark!Rhys x reader #dark!Rhys fic

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bridellashiper · 6 months ago

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You're Submission's what I need/ Queen of Hearts (Bridget) x fem Queen Reader!

Characters included: Queen of hearts (Bridget), Cinderella Charming, King Charming, and Uma

Queen of heart's (Bridget) x fem Queen reader!

Why did I create this? Simple: the Queen of Hearts is attractive, and I strongly believe she's a lesbian. (I think all cold, ruthless, baddie queens with a sad backstory are lesbians.)

Prompt: You are the Queen of the Seas, Uma's aunt and elder sister to Ursula and Uliana. When word reaches you that your niece is being held against her will by the ruthless Queen of Hearts herself, you decide to pay a visit. After all, nobody messes with your family, right? However, things take an unexpected turn when the Queen realizes just who you are.

TW! Before reading this, note that there is no use of Y/N or '(Y/N)', and you have a name. This will be written in the third person POV, with mature language and subtle implications of sex as a bribe.

---

Ursa, Queen of the Seas, was a name that struck fear into the hearts of those who spoke it. You were feared across all sea lands, and for good reason.

However, that didn’t mean you were cold to your flesh and blood, including all of Uma's mates.

So, when you received a message that your niece was being held against her will, along with others, you were angered but also curious.

Who was foolish enough to hold someone dear to you against their will, knowing who you are?

Was it Hades? Surely not. The old beast had better things to do than provoke the Sea Queen. Maybe it was Morgie or even Hook? They weren't very fond of you, and the feeling was mutual.

They were the worst set of mates you’d seen your younger sister crew with, but you had no say in that. You did, however, warn them once: you'd find them, skin them alive, and then proceed to drown them if they ever hurt Uliana.

Needless to say, you weren’t too happy to learn your niece was being held against her will.

What the fuck happened here?

That was all you could think as you stepped into the dry lands of Auradon Prep, brushing off any sand and dust that clung to your dress. It had been years since you last willingly set foot in Auradon (though you weren't invited back; you were just here to make sure Uma was okay).

Everything was... different. Not that you were complaining; the place needed a makeover, even if it was a bit unusual. In a way, you found it oddly fascinating. The skies seemed darker, a crimson shade of red, and it was eerily quiet.

Quietly making your way through the empty halls of what you assumed was Auradon Prep, you found yourself at a dead end, large cards blocking all views and ways into where the people resided.

You huffed in annoyance, retracing your steps back to the sea to see if you could get in through the top, and luckily, you could.

Using your tentacles to lift you upwards, you quietly observed from above.

Your steely gaze swept over the crowd of cowering, fearful, and hateful eyes until they landed on a certain green-haired woman—there she was!

Held against her will,indeed, but no harm had come to her. Sighing in relief, you felt as though you could finally breathe properly.

After a few seconds, Uma caught your gaze from where she knelt, her eyes lighting up when she spotted you. Winking at your niece, you placed a finger to your lips, signaling her to stay quiet. Heeding your silent warning, Uma sent you a playful eye roll and a slight pout.

"Let me go!" Snapping your attention back to the drama unfolding before your eyes, your interest piqued as you set eyes upon a redhead.

So it was the Queen of Hearts who had your niece. Though you can't say you remember her like this—villainous and evil—it suited her.

"Oh, Charming. So nice to see you again," Bridget spoke, her voice steady and so unlike the girl you vaguely remembered (the version your sisters used to tell you about: bubbly, sweet, nice, and oh-so-desperate for a friend or two).

"Where is she? Where is Cinderella?" Shoved to the ground, Charming groaned from the fall, and Bridget seemed to relish in it all.

Turning, she picked up a pair of glass shoes that belonged to Cinderella.

"Why—"

"No..."

"Are you looking for these?" she taunted, dangling the glass pair on the tips of her fingers as she stared at the kneeling man. You shifted a little, now watching the show unfold with keen interest.

"What have you done?" His voice broke and cracked a little, and for a moment, you felt pity for the poor guy—after all, he did just lose his happily ever after.

Throwing the glass shoes against the ground floor, they shattered, pieces flying everywhere. The black-haired man broke at the sight.

"Not so funny now, am I?" Bridget retorted, watching as the man fumbled forward, hands trembling as he attempted to pick up the pieces of the broken shoes. She smiled, wicked and evil in every sense.

Hot. Fucking. Hot.

"No... What... No... No... No!" he shouted, and she continued to laugh, relishing in his brokenness.

"Guards, take him away. I want him out of my sight," the redheaded Queen ordered firmly, gazing into the eyes of each of her faithful yet fearful guards, and they nodded without a word.

"Well, that was interestingly brutal," you muttered to yourself with a soft chuckle. However, it died down when Uma sent you a look.

The kind of look that said, "I'm telling mom if you don't hurry up and turn this shit-show around," and you groaned softly to yourself.

With an eye-roll, you dove back into the depths of the sea, a swirl of water circling around your form, drawing everyone's attention as expected.

As you landed on the hard surface of the floor, people made space for you, and guards stepped back, armed and alert as your figure became clearer.

You wore a beautiful deep blue mermaid dress, with a plunging neckline that complemented your body perfectly. As the water completely disappeared, you emerged from the depths.

"Alright, as much as I loved the show, I have to put a stop to this... whatever this is," you spoke up, gesturing towards the crowd and the scene in front of you.

"And who are you to demand that?" Bridget replied, her gaze curious and wary, eyeing you from head to toe before they landed on your face.

"Ursa, Queen of the Seas. Though I doubt any of you have heard of me," you murmured the last part, glancing around at everyone—the parents, the fearful children, and then the guards. They wore cool masks, but they didn’t fool you.

You knew fear when you saw it.

"I don't think I've heard of you... Hmm..." The redheaded woman hummed thoughtfully to herself for a while, seemingly lost in her world of thoughts.

While she was, you glanced towards your niece, quietly making your way towards her. Uma smiled, slowly and brightly. You'd come to save her, and she was thankful for it.

When two guards stopped you, you stared up at the two men and scoffed. Tentacles emerged from within you and effortlessly lifted them off the ground, throwing them elsewhere.

As you came face to face with your niece, you sighed in relief and silently pulled her into a tight hug.

"Excuse me—"

Turning away from Uma towards the redheaded queen, who was smiling tightly, you nodded.

"I don't think I've heard of you before..." Repeating her words once more, it felt like a demand, as if she commanded you to tell her who you are.

Giggling lightly, you crossed your arms over your chest, giving her a once-over to appreciate the beauty standing before you.

"I said my name's Ursa, didn't I? Wait, I forgot to mention I'm related to someone you may or may not dislike—" Humming to yourself, you shrugged. Oh well, she’d come to know who you are one way or another.

"—Uliana. Does that name ring a bell?" you asked, taking a confident and taunting step forward, not too close to invade her space but enough to smell her perfume.

"You..." she murmured, her gaze suddenly turning darker and colder. A slow smile crept its way to your mouth, and you sighed.

"No, no. I'm not the younger sister; I'm the older one, not Ursula. God no, that idiot wouldn’t last a day being Queen. Like I said before, I’m Ursa, Queen of the Seas and firstborn daughter of Aquarayna."

Gasps and whispers spread among the crowd, but your gaze stayed fixed on the wicked beauty in front of you.

"I see now. I assume you're here for the Uma girl then. Well, that’s too bad. I don't give, I take. Now, kneel."

Inwardly, you cursed up a storm. Of course, she’d say something like that. What could you say to sway her? Then, a dirty and wicked thought crossed your mind. Why not bribe her with something she—hopefully—couldn't refuse?

Sex.

It was risky and stupid but consequences be dammed when the life of your niece in the hands of Bridget.

Instead of heeding her warning, you took another step forward, invading her personal space as the others watched on, breaths held, waiting for your answer.

"What if I give you something else instead, something you very clearly need, hmm?" You murmured, hand brushing against her soft skin as she stared down at you.

''And what would that be, Hmm? what could you possibly have that I would want?'' She scoffed, a bitter sound as she shook her head.

Leaning forward, you whispered in her ear, your breath hot against her seemingly cool and cold skin. ''Indulgence, pleasure I doubt you've felt in a while. Only, if you release Uma and keep her unharmed''

A/N: If you want a part 2 dm me ideas bcs after writing this shit-show I have literally no ideas for anything else for a bit (literally put my tears blood and sweat into this shit. I also wanted to apologise fornot be active in literally MONTHS.)

#Descendants: The Rise of Red #Queen of Hearts (Briget) x Fem Reader!#Bridget is a baddie and I love baddiies #lesbianism #wlw #(fully convinced she's a cold lesbian)#reader #fem reader #third person pov #descendants #uma descendants #sku1 wrote it first

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slowlyoats · 3 months ago

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The Lost Boys:What legend do they believe in?

Marko

- the fae

- I think he is the most superstitious out of all the boys

- Like his given name is actually Mark, but he is so terrified of accidentally giving his name to a Fae in disguise that he goes by Marko instead

- Him and Paul were screwing around in the woods once and Paul stepped into a fairy circle…Marko REFUSED to go near Paul for a straight month. He even slept in a different room in the cave

- He wears iron jewelry just in case too

Paul

- the corn people (not sure what this folklore creature is called lol)

- He HATES corn fields

- He grew up near a corn field, and he still despises them to this day

- The eyes, the teeth, the giggles

- NO SIR he doesn’t mess with that crap

- Growing-up, he could hear them at night, giggling, as he lay In his twin bed

- It was deeply upsetting, and his parents never believed him

Dwayne

- Not-deer

- Like Paul, I think he is from the United States

- So he is accustomed to the things that live in the woods in North America

- Like things that aren’t animals…

- Or people…

- Out of all the supernatural creatures he has encountered and read about, the Not-Deer are, not his thing

- He saw one

- Once he was up early, early in the morning when he was still human, and he saw it

- At first, from a distance, it looked like a deer.

- Then it turned its head, and stood up on its back legs, and stared right into Dwayne’s soul

- He was 12 at the time, and so like most children when they witness something strange and unusual, he asked his grandma

12 Year Old Dwayne: Gram, I saw a funny looking animal outside this morning….

Gram: oooo did you see a bear or a moose? Those things are huge!

12 year Old Dwayne: no. It was a deer that walked on its back legs….

Gram: …….

12 year Old Dwayne: Gram?

Gram: *runs over and hugs Dwayne* NEVER go outside that early EVER again.

- She then gave him a object to protect him from bad spirits, he doesn’t know if he believes it actually works

- But

- to this day he still wears it around his neck

David

- Banshees

- His great aunt used to tell him stories of the Banshees and the Bodhar

- She was the only Irish member of his family, and he was the only one that would sit with her and listen to her stories

- It’s funny how the legends he believes in are the ones about death…

- His pet peeve about the legend is that people Americans view banshees as an evil spirit. When in reality old Irish folklores states that Banshee appear when a death has occurred or is about to occur. They are there to grieve for the soul by wailing, shrieking, and screaming.

- so, not necessarily an evil spirit

- The Bodhar though

- Is another story

- That one always scared him the most as a child

- Once the Bodhar is released from the other side, he must return with a soul.

- If he left with the intent to pick up John Doe, but John Doe doesn’t end up dying, well….the Bodhar can’t return empty handed….So, someone has to die.

- He swore he saw a Banshee once when his great aunt was on her death bed.

- He had gotten overwhelmed, and left her bed side to sit by the window. And there, by the gate, there was a women with bright red hair and a howled looking face. She looked like she was half on this plane and half in the other. The whites of her eyes were pink from crying, her teeth were like needles. She was otherworldly and terrifying. he knew when he saw her that it wouldn’t be to soon till his beloved aunt passed

- He swore that day that he would never watch one of his loved ones die again

- I think this is why he is so protective of his brothers and probably Max too

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sepublic · 2 months ago

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The way the setup for the impact, the shots, Luz’s family going around her in her defense, the way it cuts to an opposite angle… Idk something about Lilith not getting to help kill Belos, but still being there in spirit as someone who got her own revenge and last laugh on him, as someone who had to spend the most time with Belos, technically more than Hunter when you actually think about it!

The others made him die, but the humiliation and pain Lilith inflicted was something he was forced to live with for the rest of his life. Maybe he wore that mask to hide the mold, but nobody in this world would judge him for it. Maybe he wore the mask before the mold, out of sheer humiliation every time he looked into a mirror; He could not look at his own face without being reminded of Lilith owning him. Luz got a scar but you know that’s something she learned to live with, esp knowing Belos died because of her and her loved ones. But Belos never got over his scar, not ever.

And the callback to Luz having to deal with Philip on her own, him trying to convince her, just for Lilith to step in and shut him the fuck up? And in the finale, same thing, with Luz’s other family doing the same thing. The similarities hearkening to Lilith protecting Luz, so it’s like she’s doing the same here in spirit. Luz talking the first time, Lilith not saying a thing as she goes for the impact.

Then Luz isn’t saying a thing, while her mom, brother, and Raine dropping their own commentary. Hit in the face by the fist, and then the foot. It cutting to Philip’s face after the impact, and then it’s Belos’ face before it, because he has no face afterwards. The family is cementing both times that Luz doesn’t owe that guy anything before they get to enjoy each other without any worries again.

And the callback goes further because Belos turns into Philip, just to remind you that not only is this worst evil ever a white human, but also to show how his dignified and controlled facade shatters all over again, leaving him a fumbling humiliated mess because that’s really what he is in the end; A tantrum-throwing manchild who can’t accept consequences. He thinks he’s so clever with his words that will save him until someone shuts it down with an action. Just like the Grimwalkers, or making a bad excuse to someone magically stronger before he gets splattered, Belos can never escape the cycle of his humiliation and suffering and lack of responsibility.

The best part? I bet you Belos had a sense of dreadful deja vu, and realized this was just like Lilith making a fool of him before he got killed. He was thinking of Lilith humiliating him as her family followed suit. He really presented the reveal of himself as Philip as something triumphant, and not just an undermining admission that he was that pissbaby Luz and her aunt humiliated, and that there was precedent for Luz to do it again; Boy did she.

#The Owl House #Lilith Clawthorne #Emperor Belos #Philip Wittebane #Parallels #Cinematography

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artebris · 6 months ago

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I miss talking, no, ranting about my literally deep and (seems so) undying passion, and I really need a little breathing out. So why not the hell throw some headcanons brewed somewhere in the subconscious or gained with learning the fandom.

✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭

Ominis Gaunt. Origins Headcanons:

➻ Ominis was born in late October/early November, early, cold, rainy and misty morning, when the light blind rain was falling at the early dawn.

➻ His birthing was actually very quick and rather harmless and smooth, his mother had an easy time with him. He was born a very small and light weighted infant. Ominis remained silent for a very long time before his first cry.

➻ His mother was accused for his blindness, and she was almost about to refuse to accept him as her son. The first woman who hugged him with warmth was actually Noctua.

➻ For all his childhood Ominis was mostly alone or abandoned, exploring the mansion with little hands and careful steps. All help he’s got was mostly from servants, House elves or his aunt.

➻ He was a victim of his elder siblings scary pranks and evil jokes all the time. That included the tales about monsters under his bed or in his wardrobe and sudden screams from the corners Ominis was approaching to.

➻ When he gained his wand, which happened much earlier than to other kids, he started to play little revenges to his brothers, but they were mischievous and secret, because Ominis knew, his siblings would hurt him if they know. He never got caught.

➻ He was a little scared, introverted and mostly silent, but curious, smart, mischievous and playful kid before the Cruciatus episode. Mostly opened to his aunt, he also had his way with animals and insects, not knowing how they look, he trusted his senses mostly. Usually he liked to play alone in the morning garden, his own room in rainy days or listen to stories Noctua used to tell him.

➻ Ominis liked to steal the forbidden sweets from the family kitchen while everyone didn’t give a damn what he was about to do. His favorite were little lemon drops.

➻ He had a small hiding place for things. A box with his finds from the garden or home, old favorite toys and memorable things, where he put things that were dear to him. However, one day he did not find it in its original place under the floorboard. It disappeared. Someone from his family stole it, and Ominis never knew its fate again.

➻ Ominis’ habit of sleeping on the floor always was with him from his childhood. His siblings used to stumble on him in corridors of their manor from time to time. Ominis’ blindness led to confusion between the time of the day, so sometimes he fell for nap wherever he can. Gaining his wand helped that a bit, but the old habit lasted.

➻ He was born a hypotonic with incredibly low blood pressure, so he is usually pale, his skin is colder and he is mostly slower in movements than a regular person.

➻ Due to his blindness and uncommon behavior that coming from it, he was mostly avoided, accused or ignored by most of his family members. The way he walked, dressed, played, ate, slept or explored the world was irritating to others.

✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭ ❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜ ✭

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #ominis gaunt aesthetic #ominis #hogwarts legacy aesthetic #headcanon #thoughts #ill never get over how he just sleeps on the floor its so cute to me and seems so at odds with his personality which makes it better #he is my little meow meow #Spotify

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not-another-leon-blog · 1 year ago

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Family Matters

DI! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Death Island Spoilers!

Summary– The kids are exposed to the evils of the world. Word count: 3746 D/n– Daughter's name S/n– Son's name Sequels: Aftermath / Out Together

You woke to the sound of quiet sniffling. Someone was shaking you, almost begging you to wake up. Your eyes opened, your vision fuzzy and your head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Mommy, wake up,” your daughter cried as she shook you. “Please, wake up.”

You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes. Taking in your surroundings, you knew you were far from Los Angeles. Instead, you were surrounded by concrete walls and steel bars. This wasn’t the Walk of Fame, it was a prison.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” your daughter said, throwing herself in your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” said her twin brother confidently. “Dad’ll save us.” His pacing betrayed his confidence, not that his sister could tell with her face hidden in your shoulder. “Besides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris are here, too.”

“They are?” you asked. The fog in your head was starting to lift. “Chris? Claire?”

“We’re here,” Chris called. But he sounded weak, wounded.

“Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Alcatraz,” said Claire. If Chris sounded terrible, she sounded worse. Whatever was going on, you knew it was something the kids shouldn’t be a part of. “Jill’s here, too.” Somewhere." It only took a second for you to connect the dots. If they were all here, then surely Leon would be as well.

You knew he had been on assignment in San Francisco so logically he couldn’t be too far away. It was supposed to be simple– a job he could complete in a day or so and then he would meet you and the kids in Los Angeles. How it turned into this…

We’re bait, you thought. It was a virtual guarantee. But how? All of your files had been secured and locked up; Leon had made sure of it. So how did you end up here? Why were you here?

D/n trembled in your arms and S/n was becoming more restless. Carefully, you lifted D/n with one arm and pushed yourself to your feet with the other. Reaching out to touch the bars, you gave them a firm shake. They didn’t budge.

“I gotta set you down, baby,” you said to D/n. She nodded hesitantly, going to her brother once she was out of your arms. She and S/n went to sit on the cot, holding each other’s hands. S/n’s leg bounced nervously.

You continued to examine the bars, looking for any kind of weakness. “So, what brought all of you to Alcatraz?” Might as well get an idea of what you were about to face if you were going to be stuck here.

“There were outbreaks in the city,” Chris said, his breathing heavy. “Found a connection to Alcatraz…”

That’s certainly one way to get him and Jill here, you thought. But what about Leon? How did his assignment connect to all of this?

“You kids okay?” Claire asked, taking a sharp breath.

“Okay,” S/n answered softly.

You abandoned the bars and went to kneel in front of them. D/n’s face was blotchy with tears and she was wiping her nose with her sleeve. Soft hiccups rocked her little body. S/n, on the other hand, was still bouncing his leg and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. You took their hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“We’ll be okay,” you assured them. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, understand?” You looked each of them in the eye. “No one will touch you while I’m here.” D/n nodded and you reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Mom,” S/n said, but his attention wasn’t on you. It was on someone standing outside of the cell. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a shiny pink jumpsuit. You knew exactly who she was and suddenly it all made sense.

Like a switch had flipped, your attitude went from soft and caring to tough and protective. You stood and put yourself between her and the twins. “What do you want?” Your voice was sharp and stern.

“Your husband will pay for what he did to my father,” Maria replied.

“Yeah, I get that.” You took a step closer. “But they have no part in it. You want to use someone, use me. This isn’t their fight.”

“It became their fight when he murdered my father. They deserve to know what kind of monster theirs is.”

S/n jumped up from the cot and rushed against the bars, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. “Our Dad’s a hero!” he yelled. “You're the monster!” Maria hit the bars, scaring S/n away from them. But he only backed away enough to stand next to you and stared Maria down as she marched down the cell block.

D/n was crying again. S/n turned to her. “Dad’s gonna be here,” he assured her. “He’s gonna save us– just like he saved the girl in Spain!” He froze like a deer in headlights and glanced over at you.

“S/n Marvin Kennedy,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been in your father’s office again, haven’t you?”

“No.” An obvious lie. There was no other way he would know about Spain and Leon would never talk about past missions with his kids. He never even really told him what his job was.

“We’re having a talk about that later.” He bowed his head and went to sit beside his sister again. “And I’m reminding Dad to change those locks, too.” S/n seemed to shrink more into himself. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Dad… maybe… kinda taught me to pick locks.”

“Then get us out of here!” D/n yelled at him.

“I don’t have anything to use!”

Leon would certainly get a scolding for that. A sharp pain shot in your neck. A moment later your body felt weak and you leaned against the wall for support. In an instant, breathing began to get harder, too.

“Mommy?” D/n said through her sniffles.

“Y/n?” came Claire’s voice. Whatever had infected Claire and Chris had infected you, too. But how? Your mind raced. You were never bitten.

You groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. With what strength you could muster, you crawled back to the bars to put distance between you and the kids. D/n moved to go to you but S/n held her back. He knew something was wrong. He knew there was a reason you were moving away from them. At eight years old, you hated how perceptive he was.

Lights shone at the other end of the prison block. Footsteps came closer, echoing off the walls. You gripped the bars, trying to ready yourself to face Maria and whoever else she was working with.

“Leon?” Claire muttered softly.

The kids gasped and ran to the cell door. “Daddy!”

“Y/n? Kids?” Leon rushed to your cell, quickly holstering his gun. The kids reached their hands through the bars, trying to hug him as best as they could. He looked them over for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” S/n told him. “But Mom…”

The pain was getting worse. Your breaths had turned into short gasps. The twins let go of him and he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed.

“Long time, no see, sweetheart,” he replied, his blue eyes full of worry. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. We were going to the Walk of Fame and…” Then you gestured to the cell. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been… more careful.” Maybe you were starting to get rusty. Years ago you would’ve seen the ambush from a mile away.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Get us out of here!” another man’s voice cried, catching Leon’s attention.

“Well, I’ll be,” Leon muttered as he craned his neck to see who spoke. There was no way in hell he was leaving his family’s side right now. “Antonio Taylor… I’ll deal with you later.”

The overhead lights turned on and the kids scrambled to your side. The light stung your eyes and a headache started to form at your temple. Leon shot up, pulling his gun from its holster and scanning the cell block. There at the second-story railing stood Maria and another man, his cane tapping rhythmically on the metal floor.

This new man introduced himself as Dylan Blake. “I bet you’re wondering how people are getting infected without being bit,” he said, proudly going on to describe his bio-drones: insects that could infect whomever Blake pleased. Your heart sank at this realization. It was only a matter of time before you turned.

You tuned out whatever Blake continued to say, your attention on the kids. D/n was still shaking like a leaf against you, but her tears had stopped. S/n was on his knees in front of you. The pain was starting to become unbearable, and knowing what would happen if you turned…

“There’s a reason I left you and Leon alone, Jill,” Blake continued. “You want to talk about justice? You should be pointing your guns at Claire and Y/n.” Leon spared a glance at you. You were pale and shivering and you were only getting worse. “They’ll turn soon enough and when they do, they’ll rip apart the doctor and those kids.”

“The kids have no part in this!” Leon snapped.

“They became part of it when you began to work for liars, people who cover up the truth. The ones continuously sending you into battle rather than staying home with your family.” Leon stiffened. You knew he felt guilty about being away from home so much. “Which will it be? Your wife or your kids? Better make your choice quick before she devours them.”

“Leon,” you called softly. With his gun still trained on Blake, he looked back at you. You nodded at him, but he shook his head. Shooting you wasn’t an option for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot his children– he’d rather die than do that.

Soon enough Blake and Maria were gone and Leon was back by your side, D/n and S/n clinging to the arm he slid between the bars. “Babies,” he said, “I need you to get in that back corner. Can you do that for me?” They nodded and did as he said. His attention turned to you and he lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “Y/n, I’m not shooting you. The twins need you and I will not let them witness something like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “Leon, you have to.”

“No.” His voice was stern. “It’s not gonna happen. We’ll figure it out.”

You lifted your hand to gently trace the curve of his jaw, his stubble lightly scratching your skin. “I love you, Leon.” He held your hand against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Daddy,” D/n called. “What’s gonna happen to Mommy?”

“Mommy’s going to be just fine,” he told her firmly. Leon felt like the worst father in the world. The last thing he had ever wanted was for his kids to be dragged into his work. He was sure that with Y/n at home, they’d be perfectly fine. He thought he’d taken every step necessary to keep his family safe. What had gone so wrong that they ended up here?

“Real father of the year,” he muttered under his breath.

“This… isn’t your… fault.” You curled in on yourself as pain shot through your body. You had the cell bars in a death grip as you attempted to maintain yourself. Something was brewing in your chest, something violent and bloody. You met Leon’s eyes, your tears finally falling. “Please…”

Just as he was about to reply, someone came running into the cell block. It was Rebecca with a hard-shelled case in her arms. “What’s that?” Leon asked, but he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it to believe it.

“A vaccine,” Rebecca replied, popping the case open and handing him a syringe.

Leon couldn’t move fast enough. He uncapped the syringe and brushed your hair aside. “This might hurt, baby.” There was a sting in your neck as he injected the vaccine. Relief washed over you like a cool blanket and finally, you were able to catch your breath. As you composed yourself, Leon got to work on unlocking the door.

The door slid open and Leon enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulled away and the two of you were nearly thrown over as the twins barreled into you. Leon held all three of you tight against his chest.

“I told you Dad would save us,” S/n said, his voice muffled against Leon’s shirt. Leon kissed the tops of their heads and pulled away just enough to look at all of you.

Whatever was in that vaccine worked wonders and by the time you were back on your feet, you felt good as new. “What now?” You couldn’t just take the kids and leave. There was no telling what was lurking in the halls. Taking them with Leon was risky– Blake wouldn’t give up easily. There was no doubt in your mind that there’d be a shootout at some point.

Leon kissed you again and handed you a spare gun. It wasn’t safe here with the bio-drones and he wasn’t about to let you go out and try to escape the island with two eight-year-olds. His only option was to try to keep you all in his sight and out of harm’s way. “Stay with me.” He turned to the twins. “You two,” S/n stood a bit straighter, “do exactly as I or your mother say. Understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

The four of you made your way to the armory. Leon took the lead with the twins behind him and you taking up the rear. Once you made it to the armory, Leon stopped and hugged the kids again. “I love you,” he said to them, “listen to Mom.”

“Where are you going?” D/n asked, gripping his shirt.

“I’m gonna stop the bad guys,” he replied. “Be good.” He stood and pecked your lips. “Get to the control room, you’ll be safe there.”

The three of you reached the control room. The openness of the room didn’t bring you much comfort– there wasn’t any real place to hide the kids. The best you could do was keep them away from the windows.

You made sure the door was secure and turned to the kids, tucking your gun into your waistband as you kneeled in front of them. “How are you two doing?” The answer was obvious, but you wanted to hear them talk to you. You needed them to focus as best as they could and make sure that they understood how important their safety was.

“Aren’t you scared?” S/n asked.

“I am,” you answered honestly. “And it’s okay to be.”

“So you and Daddy were doing this stuff when you met?” asked D/n in a small voice. She had calmed down but maintained a nearly bone-crushing grip on her brother’s hand. You knew that she had always wanted to picture a romantic meeting between you and Leon like the other girls’ parents at school, but the reality was not nearly as sweet.

“Yeah, sweetie–”

A monstrous roar cut you off and the twins screamed. You grabbed your gun and spun around to the window. A massive, mutated monster took up the expanse of the window, but it wasn’t focused on you. Still, you ushered the kids back into the wall farthest away and kept your gun trained on it.

A number of loud pops sounded from outside. Gunshots. The others must be down there. With the beast’s attention away from the window, you focused your attention on the door. Your grip on your gun tightened. The kids jumped and gasped behind you with each new explosion. Shielding them from watching those through the window would be near impossible.

Something smashed against the window, but the glass held strong. Barrels and boxes flew throughout the expanse of the armory. The ground shook beneath you and the groans of crashing metal echoed in your ears.

The door burst open, scaring the kids and startling you. It was Claire and Rebecca.

“What is that thing!?” D/n yelled.

The two stopped short, unsure of how to answer her. Claire recovered first. “That’s the bad guy.”

“That’s the bad guy!?” S/n repeated. He tugged on your shirt. “You have to go help Dad!”

“I need to keep you two safe.” As much as you wanted to go help, you and Leon had talked long ago about situations like this. Situations you had hoped and prayed would never come to pass and a discussion that led to your retiring from the D.S.O.

Only one of you would actively fight. The other would stay with the kids no matter what. That way if something happened to the other, the twins would still have at least one parent.

“What are you doing?” D/n asked as Claire and Rebecca rushed to the main computer.

“We,” Rebecca started as her hands moved across the keys, “are gonna stop a bunch of bugs.”

As the gunshots rang and rockets exploded, Leon kept watch on the windows of the control room. Leading the creature, formerly Dylan Blake, away from those windows was his top priority (aside from killing it, of course).

At least with Maria dead, he didn’t have to worry about someone else going after you and the twins. And even if she were still alive, you’d give her hell for doing this to your family.

“Just a heads up,” Chris said as they put together a massive rocket launcher, “the missus is gonna have a word with you about teaching S/n to pick locks.” He grunted as they slid the two pieces of the weapon together.

Leon grinned. He knew that would come back to bite him one day. Hell, he was looking forward to your scolding. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t.” He lifted the front of the launcher up on his shoulder while Chris steadied it from behind. “A little lower.” Chris kneeled down a bit more, letting Leon get a higher angle.

The creature had jumped into the water after Jill and was now trying to make for open waters. Leon aimed for the gate's pulley system. With only one shot, he needed to make this count.

Another second passed as he steadied the launcher and pulled the trigger.

The rocket flew from the barrel, jolting him and Chris as it flew to the gate. The rocket exploded on impact, and the gate dropped. It crashed into the water and a moment later another explosion erupted. Blood stained the water and pieces of Blake's mutated carcass rained down.

Leon eyed the water nervously, searching for any movement that could indicate that somehow the bastard survived. When nothing aside from a massive corpse floated to the surface, he sighed in relief.

He barely had a moment to relax before he was knocked over. It wasn't often that his kids caught him off guard, but here they were, piled on top of him and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Well, if he were to die, being smothered by his childrens' affection didn’t seem like such a bad option to him.

Once he’d regained his bearings, he hugged them equally as tight, enough to make them groan and try to push away from him (which in turn made him squeeze just a bit harder). He turned his head to see you approaching, a soft smile on your face. “Care to join in on this?”

“He’s crushing us!” S/n squealed.

“Am not,” Leon huffed.

“Are too!”

He let the twins go and sat up. D/n stayed in his lap and S/n sat beside him. At that moment, there was no denying that S/n was his son. He was almost a carbon copy of his father. The scene almost made you forget about everything that had just happened.

You could still feel a faint throbbing where Blake’s drone had stung you, an eerie reminder of what could have been if Rebecca hadn’t shown up when she did.

“Can we go home now?” D/n asked.

While waiting for the evacuation helicopters, the twins had taken to bombarding Claire and Rebecca with questions, giving you a brief moment alone with your husband.

“You know we’re not sleeping alone for a good while.”

“I know.” He watched as S/n turned his attention to Chris, climbing up on the man’s shoulders. Where other parents might dread the thought of having their bed invaded, Leon welcomed it. He’d rather have them running to him in the dead of night than deal with nightmares on their own.

“We should’ve just stayed in D.C.,” you mumbled, leaning against Leon as he wrapped an arm around you. Maybe if you and the kids had stayed home they would have been spared the terror of being kidnapped and threatened.

Leon shook his head. “Maria would’ve found a way.” Of that, he was certain. If there was anyway to guarantee his suffering, targeting his family was a sure way to do it. “We’ll take a real vacation after this.”

“D/n has been begging to go to Disney.” You sighed. “We can’t hide this stuff from them anymore.” That was perhaps the worst of it. You and Leon had gone to great lengths to shield them from the reality of Leon’s work.

The two of you watched the twins. Chris was still carrying S/n on his shoulders and at some point D/n had managed to steal Claire’s red jacket. Soon, they came running back, wedging themselves between you.

D/n pointed toward the horizon. “Are those the helicopters?”

“They sure are,” Leon replied as he smoothed her hair.

S/n tugged on Leon’s shirt and flashed his best set of puppy eyes. “Can I have the window seat?”

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