#and his childish joy in a good fight

[wriokitty]

khaenriahn princess reader x knight capitano ; jealous capitano ; implied hidden relationship ; pre cataclysm ; royal au ; capitano is not cursed yet so his skin is supple and youthful ; banter and fluff

“There is word, my lady,” his voice says lowly. You hum, reaching over to grab at his helmet. Capitano gently captures your hand before you can, pulling it away from its path to uncover his face. There’s a fleeting frown on your lips, but it’s gone as soon as he brings it up and presses a small, delicate kiss to the knuckles through the dark cloth that hides him from you.

“Oh? What of, my dear knight?” You ask curiously. Something tells him it’s almost mockingly innocent.

“That there is a rather…determined prince seeking your hand in marriage.”

Sometimes, it feels unfair that very rarely do you get to see the face hidden underneath the armor, but you suppose you don’t need to see Capitano to know exactly what emotion is twisted in his face. You fight back an amused grin—his voice tells you all you need to know.

You’re certain he must taste his own bitterness as the words fall from his tongue.

“Such grand news,” you gasp, “and yet…you speak with such hesitation. Has this news not brought you joy, my captain?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says unamused, voice low and just shy of a grumble, “I value your wellbeing above all. Should a capable prince ask for your hand, I would be most delighted if that is what you accept.”

“You do not sound delighted at the idea,” you tease.

“Perhaps my lady has not given me reason to think she would be interested in such a proposition,” he mutters.

This time, his voice does, in fact, sound the slightest bit petulant—like a child who sulks after being scolded. His tone is usually one that is far too courteous. Painfully so, in fact. (You’ve spent a good number of exasperating moments insisting he be more casual with you. You reap the rewards of those efforts few and far in between). But now, he betrays himself with a flicker of frustration, far too evidently for even you to miss.

He realizes too late how childish the words must sound spoken so irritably. You can tell that he clenches his jaw, seeing the tension even under the mask as he forces himself to still the bitterness spreading through his veins.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you grin. You can imagine the unhappy lift of his brow as you speak, “what makes you so certain I would be disinterested in such an enticing offer?”

“It seems my assumptions were incorrect,” he grunts, straightening his back before promptly adding, “forgive me, my lady. I must see to rather urgent military affairs. I shall be seeing you—”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Sir Capitano,” you quip, your hand grabbing at his wrist, tugging him towards you. He stills, stiff as a statue as your hand reaches for his helmet once more.

This time, he doesn’t stop you. He allows the lithe, delicate fingers he knows so well to grab at the edge of his helmet, carefully tugging it off before his face slowly reveals itself to you. You smile, cupping a cheek before tracing your thumb along the soft skin of his face.

“I am not jealous,” he says stubbornly.

“Haven’t they taught you never to lie to a princess?” You hum, stepping closer. His lips twitch just a fraction at the edges before two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. Flush against his chest. Tucked right against his heart. Pressed so close, you almost wonder if you could feel his heart beating through the armor if you paid close enough attention.

“You torment me, my lady,” he murmurs quietly, “I fear I cannot accept this arrangement. It would tear through my soul to watch you be wed to another.”

“Then do not watch me,” you whisper.

You have seen his eyes flicker with soft, warm affection countless times. There is beauty underneath the helmet he wears so often, beauty that not many are so fortunate to see. You see it often, though. In private, hidden moments that he affords you. In the quiet of your chambers where the maids cannot disturb you. In the corners of the palace where no one can interrupt your fleetingly lingering touches and longing gazes.

Your hands hold his face, slowly pulling him closer as you study every precious slope across his skin. The slightly jagged curve of his nose. The plumpness of his lips. The slant of his sharp cheekbones. Every feature you know by heart, and revisit in your dreams.

You smile lightly at the thought of his jealousy, as guilty as you should feel for teasing him. Your knight—and you, his beloved princess.

“Do you wish to marry a prince?” He asks, leaning into your neck, breathing in your scent as his nose trails up your jaw until it reaches your cheek. Your breath hitches. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I wish to marry someone who owns my heart,” you say breathlessly, “prince or not.”

“Perhaps what you need is someone who is far more capable of carrying the weight of your heart. You possess rather discerning taste—it is not easy to please you, my lady.”

You huff, glaring at him from the corner of your eyes as you ask, “do you mean to call me difficult?”

“Among other things,” he chuckles. There’s a light, teasing trail of kisses pressed to your skin, leading straight to your lips. Capitano knows exactly what he’s doing, though—he stops just at the corner of them, making you pout as you try to lean in and close the gap.

He grins smugly, pulling away just enough to create distance between your mouths.

“You should not toy with a princess,” you say, displeased.

He hums, rubbing the small of your back as he counters, “and you should not toy with the heart of a man devoted to you.”

“Forgive me, my dear knight,” you murmur, gently bringing his face closer as your hands cradle his face once more, “I shall not torment you with such teasing again.”

“I am most grateful, your highness,” he fights back a chuckle.

Jealousy is unbecoming on someone as noble as the captain of your military forces. You like the way it looks on him just a little, anyway. Love the way his posture is more rigid and his voice is sharper when forced to consider the possibility of your heart yearning elsewhere. Enjoy the way he holds you tighter and closer as cool armor steals your warmth.

“Shall I tell this prince I am not interested?” You ask with a knowing look.

He hums thoughtfully, a smug smile playing on his lips as he replies, “no, I think I’d rather witness the expression of his highness when he realizes his charms hold no sway over you—a rare defeat for a man so certain of his allure.”

“Someday I shall marry you, my dear knight,” you whisper. Finally, with a softened look, he leans in to kiss you. Slow. Delicate. So gentle, it almost feels like you are one whisper from the wind away from falling apart.

“I look forward to it, my lady. Not even celestia could stop me from claiming your hand.”

————————

The last line is a big rip if you know what I mean 😔

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with the homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say it doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly every day during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

As book!Tom who grew up in an orphanage: he's secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[swordgrace]

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄.

༺ cregan stark x fem!northern!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a longtime friend of cregan stark, you seek him out to train you with a longsword. though, a duel in the wolfswood leaves you with more of a desire for other things instead of swordplay.

anonymous request.

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 9.3K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, sexual tension, mutual possessiveness, size difference / size kink, cregan is much bigger than the reader, dominant cregan, cregan is a big, brooding hunk, sexually-charged dueling, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, all stark men have a breeding kink, neck biting / marking (biting in general), rough sex, cunnilingus / oral sex (fem!receiving), hair pulling, fingering, groping, light bruising, mild manhandling, soft ending & soft aftercare.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: You can tell that I’m inspired because I’m putting out fanfics at the pace of a madman. I absolutely loved this request, huge thanks to the anon who gave me this wonderful idea and allowed me to bring it to life! ❤️ I loved writing for Cregan and I definitely wouldn’t mind doing so again! Thank you to all the love & support, you all mean the world to me! Enjoy!

“𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 — 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.”

Lord Cregan Stark’s usual stoicism held a vast amount of protectiveness, the desire to better you in the right way, the Northern way. You had been taught all about swordplay by your father, but through the years, as you grew into your place as Lady of Barrowton, your skills had declined.

Ladies of your station were admonished for possessing any inclination of violence — a woman could not hold a sword, she could only hold an embroidery needle. A woman could not rule, only guide the men that do, and a woman could not become tempestuous, for it meant that she was simply a bad product or undesirable.

Thankfully, Cregan defied all expectations and pledged to teach you, hone your skills again from the ground up, if necessary. You could not be anymore grateful to him for assuming that mantle when he didn’t have to.

Your longstanding relationship with the Warden of the North, Cregan Stark, was the byproduct of many childhood years spent together — it was often you, Cregan, and his late younger brother. A deadly trio, to be sure, running through the Wolfswood and terrorizing Winterfell with typical childish antics.

The joy of youth had begun to run dry — you were nine-and-ten now, Cregan one-and-twenty, ruling over the entirety of the North. Your father was Lord Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowton and an infamous fighter, bannerman to House Stark. Of course, his duties were often torn between Barrowton and Winterfell, and so you were left in the care of your uncle.

Learning to fight again as a man would involve many hours and countless sessions held within the Godswood behind the Great Keep. It was only a handful of times each week, provided that Cregan was able to attend despite the rest of his duties.

His closest advisors had beseeched him to abandon teaching you, to let it die and rest with those with more time on their hands. Cregan refused to leave you in the hands of a less capable swordsman — what good was that, letting you learn the wrong way?

A crow’s cry reverberated throughout the Wolfswood, the beat of a flock soaring through the heavily wooded hills. Your sessions inevitably relocated from the Godswood to here, to allow for the cover of privacy and a lack of wandering eyes.

Hardened earth had turned damp and muddy in the presence of a deluge days before, certainly not sturdy ground for true fighting, but it would prove to be a challenge for the both of you. Rain wasn’t common in the North, but it proved to be quite a nuisance whenever it fell — and it fell hard.

He was under great scrutiny for doing this anyway, and Cregan preferred to keep the lectures of old men at-bay for a time, if he could. The young Lord sat beneath the sprawling branches of a massive oak tree, his horse tethered several feet away.

Using a sharpening stone, he turned dull steel into razor-sharp weapons, abandoning the practice swords he often brought with him whenever he met with you. That happened to be another point of contention — meeting with a young maiden, alone in the woods, without any chaperone.

Cregan would never tarnish your honor or sully your dignity — betrothal was inevitable for a man of his station, but he wanted to forget about it. Things were easier when it was just the two of you, sparring in the woods — he did not feel so weighed-down by duty, by leadership.

He felt less like the Warden of the North and simply Cregan Stark.

The mantle of leadership had become heavier with the visit of Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, asking that he supply his mother’s armies with Northmen. House Stark was an honorable one — he wasn’t about to break vows of fealty sworn before the late King Viserys to make his daughter heir.

It meant that war was on the horizon, a war that would involve himself and his people, a war that held the potential to rip the realm asunder. Cregan had prepared himself for a time like this, when oaths and honor transcended old traditions. Whatever storm was approaching, he was prepared to face it head-on.

His head lifted from admiring polished steel, gray eyes searching for the dappled coat of your horse as it thundered through the Wolfswood. His heart felt lighter when his gaze found you, guiding your steed toward his own to tether it to a sturdy branch.

Love was a dangerous thing, just as perilous as any war fought by men — both on different fronts. Cregan had lost plenty in his life, and he feared losing you. This friendship you had, it almost seemed to take on a life of its own, abandoning the line of propriety and molding into something else, something affectionate.

Cregan didn’t know what he felt for you, but he knew that it wasn’t anything a friend should feel.

Despite the bitter chill of the North, the day was temperate enough, one where he didn’t feel the desire to wear a heavy cloak or layer himself in furs. The adrenaline of swordplay often got his blood rushing anyway, and he would be hot by the time this was all said and done.

The cheer and excitement you often felt was displayed so openly upon your face, lips curled into a bright smile. Cregan had teased you for being too amiable for a Northerner, but admittedly, he looked forward to seeing your sweet countenance and sparkling eyes. There was a warmth you possessed, a warmth hot enough to keep him comfortable when in your presence.

“Dour, as always,” You hummed, dismounting from your gelding with a look of mild amusement. You abandoned the lengthy silks and pretty dresses of a maiden whenever you came to train, outfitted with leather armor that seemed somewhat ill-fitting on you. “I wish to see you smile, Cregan.”

With a sardonic huff, a twinkle reached Cregan’s stormy-gray eyes as he looked to you, brows furrowing together. “I suppose you caught me on an odd day,” He replied, placing the sharpening stone upon the pillar of flat rock he sat atop. “Duties of the Warden of the North.” He sighed, turning his eyes toward the dismal skies.

You could detect his stress from where you stood, moving closer to him until you reached the smooth rock, taking a seat at his side. “Something is wrong,” You stated. Despite the constant banter you shared, you were still friends — Cregan wore his exhaustion on his sleeve in moments of vulnerability. “What is it?”

His shoulders rolled in a shrug, letting the blade of his longsword turn downward into the dirt, its weight resting against his thigh. “Winter is here,” Cregan murmured, countenance etched with a somber look. “War is brewing in the South. I am torn on two fronts.”

The conflict between Rhaenyra and King Aegon II — you knew of it. The realm was prepared to rip itself apart instead of seeing a woman’s ascension, something that you felt a great deal of sympathy for. “What will you do?” You inquired, able to see the furling of tension within his body, even beneath his sparring leathers.

“Uphold the oath made before King Viserys I, and before the realm,” Cregan replied, his eyes filled with something stern and solemn. He would never break an oath — it wasn’t something Northerners took lightly. “We swore to see the ascension of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and we shall fulfill it. I’ve pledged two-thousand greybeards to send South, when the time comes.”

The admiration you felt for Cregan only grew tenfold — it was the Cregan Stark that you had felt affection for, grown fond of. He was honorable, a gentle yet powerful man who wielded leadership with thoughtfulness and integrity. Your lips curled into a warm smile, as smoldering as a summer’s eve as you reached his arm.

“You’re a good man, Cregan.” It was all that needed to be said. There were plenty more sentiments conveyed in your softening stare alone — many things left unspoken, but some of it boiling beneath the surface.

A soft huff escaped him before he shook his head, dismissing your praise with a shrug of his shoulder. “I do what any honorable man would do,” He murmured, but the both of you knew it wasn’t true. Cregan showed great humility even when he didn’t need to. He moved to his feet, holding a longsword in each hand. “But we didn’t come here to speak of a grim future.”

The noticeable difference in stature was a point of teasing between the both of you, and one that Cregan took full advantage of. You stood across from him, head canting to one side. “The only grim future that I see is your face, my Lord.” You chimed, and he let out a mirthful scoff at your prodding and playful use of his title.

He stepped closer, offering you the glimmering blade of a longsword. Your surprise was noteworthy, and he very nearly made a comment, electing to hold his tongue. Cregan knew how to handle a blade — he was a talented swordsman, seasoned and experienced despite his age.

“These are real,” You stated, feeling the weight of the blade within your hand. You half expected the practice swords, but this was a welcome surprise. “Do you think that this is wise?” Admittedly, there was a pang of fear at the thought of swinging a real sword. What if you accidentally maimed him?

Cregan huffed, visage one of stoicism despite the amusement that crept into his stern, Northern timbre. “You’ll have to learn to leave the play-fighting behind, my Lady,” He murmured, watching as you white-knuckled the hilt. He was surprised that your hand didn’t rip apart. “Don’t hold it too tight.”

With a sharp exhale, you glanced at Cregan, whose gray eyes were akin to the onslaught of a winter storm, dark-chestnut tresses framing his face. He was beginning to grow a bit of scruff on his face, likely a byproduct of the stress of his duties.

He was handsome — Northern perfection made flesh and bone, a gentle mountain of a man. In your youth, you had always fancied Cregan to some degree, but his birthright often prevented you from acting on impulse. Then again, it was best left as a fantasy.

You froze when his hand wrapped around yours, calloused digits forcing your grip to loosen. “Don’t keep your hands together,” Cregan rumbled, repositioning your grip — one toward the top of the hilt, and the other closer to the pommel. “You’re acting as if this is day one.” He challenged, and that got your attention.

“It’s heavier,” You murmured, recoiling away with a disdainful expression. Cregan knew that he was beginning to get a rise out of you, lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk. “It’s not as easy to handle as the swords we used before.”

“Did you expect a longsword to weigh as much as a feather?” Cregan inquired, attempting to smother his amusement when you rolled your eyes at him. He prepared himself, squaring up into an attack formation, handling his ancestral blade with ease.

A scoff escaped you, and you mirrored his stance, holding the blade to the best of your ability. There was a burn in your arms from the newfound weight, but you pretended that it didn’t bother you. “I might throw this feather at you.” You grumbled, and at last, that earned you a brief chuckle from Cregan.

“Ready yourself,” He warned, circling you with steady steps. Cregan knew that he wouldn’t hold back for your sake — you were strong enough to take it. You insisted upon it many times before, even if he was initially reluctant to do so. “Don’t hold back.”

With a soft grunt, you brazenly charged at Cregan, hoping that it would catch him by surprise. He seemed to be expecting this, nimbly dodging your sloppy charge as he stepped to the side. You swiveled around, blades clanging together as they reverberated throughout the Wolfswood.

The silver of steel glinted within the pale rays of sunlight glistening through the canopy above. Cregan maintained a stalwart expression, though it began to crack at the seams as you swung again. He parried the blow, shuffling within the fallen leaves and damp earth.

“You’re swinging like a drunkard,” Cregan quipped, knowing that you were smarter than this. In one smooth stroke, he shoved you aside, grabbing the bicep of your sword arm. “Don’t fight like one.” He grunted, brows furrowing together as you struggled within his ironclad grasp.

In a brief stroke of genius, you smacked Cregan’s side with the pommel of your longsword, causing him to loosen his hold as you shimmied away. He let out a grunt, watching as you quickly made distance. It was a dirty fighting tactic — he most certainly didn’t teach you that.

The flash of a triumphant smile crept onto your features, but not before the King in the North charged forth, the both of you bringing your swords up. Something blossomed between the both of you, a strange tension fueled by unspoken feelings. Cregan bared his weight down upon you, causing you to maneuver to the side in order to evade him.

There was a fire within his eyes whenever he fought, a spark that turned into a bright flame. Adrenaline made his blood run hot, and the more the two of you brought your swords together, moving about as if it were a dance, the more enticed and invigorated he became.

Cregan found you beautiful, strands of hair sticking to your shimmering temples, framing your creased brow. The concentration written upon your visage was enough to make him pause, admire the intricacies and commit them to memory. Even when you wore men’s garb to spar, you were still enchanting.

You were perfect when fighting, pouring all of your efforts into beating him, if that were a possibility. Cregan didn’t want to doubt you, knowing that you possessed a raging inner fire, a quiet strength that grew with the tenacity of a wolf whenever you were provoked.

Steel ripped against steel, the duel commencing deep within the heart of the Wolfswood. His heart hammered with excitement, breath hot and labored as he parried another one of your quick, flourishing strikes.

He pressed his advance, barreling forward as he began to back you toward the rock underneath a sprawling tree of reddish leaves. Cregan noticed the panicked look in your eyes, the way in which you tried every move he’d taught you to gain distance.

“The wolf descends, my Lady. Think hard,” Cregan rumbled, wanting you to try and get out of this situation. “The enemy will not wait — they will strike, and you will end up here.” You were intelligent, a quick thinker — he wanted you to be smarter than this.

In what you considered to be another dirty tactic, you kicked a mound of damp dirt in his direction, providing enough of a distraction for you to hop the gap. Again, it only seemed to corral you into a corner. You attempted to swing down with an overhead strike, but Cregan very nearly knocked you into the ground.

“Never strike like that again, unless you want a blade through your belly,” He grunted, watching with mild awe as you brought it down to the side instead, forcing him to parry. Both of your blades locked at the side, struggling to maintain your balance. “Good.”

The dance continued, becoming a game of wit — outthinking and outmaneuvering the other, blades clashing again and again. He pressed you back into a corner as he had before, the distance slim. Cregan didn’t want you to yield — he knew that you wouldn’t.

Anticipation grew, and you found yourself weighing the odds. Perhaps you were simply too prideful to surrender to Cregan, even if all of this was a learning moment. Either way, you continued to fend him off with quick slashes of your blade, to no avail.

The rock became dangerously close, nearly brushing against your back as Cregan pressed his advantage. In a stroke of what you deemed as desperate thinking, you lashed out with a mule kick to his sword hand, loosening his grip enough to knock it away.

You shoved him with all of your strength, and much to your own surprise, he fell right into the dirt. Your heart hammered within your chest, and seeing the King of the North strewn across the ground made you feel some sense of victory.

Cregan huffed, brows knitting together as he stared at you from below, quickly recuperating. “I didn’t teach you to fight like a sellsword.” He grunted, but he had to admit, it was good thinking on your end — even if it was dirty and unsportsmanlike.

A smile fluttered across your features as you wiped the sweat from your brow, preparing to assail Cregan with whatever witty blows you could think of. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two.” You mused, canting your head to one side.

With a stoic grunt, Cregan decided to employ a dirty tactic of his own. It was a playful move, acted out without any malice and instead, wanting to hear the end of your teasing. He lashed out with his boot, sweeping your legs right out from underneath you.

Cregan smirked, watching as you buckled and toppled over, though he never intended for you to unceremoniously land right on top of him. You dropped your longsword somewhere along the way, forehead narrowly avoiding smacking into the hard earth. Cregan caught you before that could happen.

With labored breaths, you immediately hit his chest with a light punch, not enough to ever cause any real harm. “What was that for?” You grumbled, realizing how close the both of you were. He was a large man, warm and muscular beneath you.

“I’ve learned a thing or two, my Lady.” Cregan corrected, a twinkle within his stormy-gray eyes. When he fully noticed the compromising position the both of you were in, his breath hitched slightly. There was nothing stopping him from grabbing your hips and kissing you then and there.

Before fantasy could become reality, you hastily rolled off of him, feeling a light sting of arousal growing between your thighs. You wanted to avoid such a disaster — Cregan was your friend, he was the King in the North. To ascend all bonds of propriety and try for something more would be improper.

He stayed on the ground for a moment longer, moving into a sitting position as he shook his head. “Throwing dirt, pommel-striking, and kicking,” Cregan remarked, planting a palm atop his knee. “Have you been training without me?”

“Never,” You wouldn’t dare seek out another swordsman — there were none like Cregan Stark. “I wouldn’t dream of having another teacher,” You hesitated, lips twitching into a bemused smile. “Though, if I am not mistaken, you do sound jealous.”

Cregan happened to stand before you did, outstretching a gloved hand for you to take. You did, murmuring your gratitude as he hauled you up and right into the expanse of his chest, emblazoned with the direwolf of House Stark. There was something indiscernible within his eyes, steely yet softening in sight of you.

The unusual tension had crackled from mere sparks to an open flame, your throat becoming tight as Cregan’s gaze bored into you. His shadow swallowed you whole, wisps of dark, chestnut hair sticking to his face, perspiration glittering across his temples. You still held his hand, watching as his jaw tensed.

“I sound jealous, my Lady?” Cregan rumbled, timbre gentle and thick with his Northern accent. The closer he pressed, the more the reality of the situation dawned upon you, keeping you grounded. You were afraid of resorting to action, afraid that something would happen to tear you both apart.

It was easy to tear down your teasing, playful side to nothing more than a smitten maiden when Cregan huskily addressed you that way. His eyes momentarily flickered across your beautiful features, particularly the soft curve of your mouth, and what little of your neck had been exposed to him.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, lips parting as a soft exhale escaped you. “You do,” You whispered, searching his countenance for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. When you found none, you began to lean up, rocking closer than ever before. “Quite jealous.”

Cregan silenced you with a kiss, one that could melt even the hardiest of ice. It was blazing and passionate, yet slow enough to savor the moment. You reciprocated, palms flat atop his chest as he wrapped a thick, bulky arm around your hips, hauling you in until no sliver of space remained.

You kissed him fervently, allowing your many months of smothered affection to boil over. Despite Cregan’s indomitable, intimidating appearance, he was as gentle as they came. He handled you with respect, his other hand coming to seize your waist, kneading into your curves through your sparring leathers.

Tension boiled over, fueling the fire that had been stoked between the both of you for some time. Ravenous was a mere understatement — you wanted Cregan then and there, if he would indulge you. The ground was muddy and certainly no place to bed.

He bit at your lower lip with a grunt, brows furrowed together in concentration. He hunched in on you, bringing you flush against his body, heat replacing the bitter sting of the Northern chill. Cregan was rough, but inherently passionate with how he treated you — no malice, simply a wolf’s hunger.

“Cregan,” You huffed, mouth agape as you attempted to regain your composure. Whatever restraint you had was hanging on by a mere thread, prepared to snap. “I …” Admittedly, you were at a loss for words, still reeling from the shock of having your affections reciprocated.

His mouth pressed against your jaw as he buried his scruffy visage into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Seems you’re cold, my Lady.” Cregan grunted, feeling the onslaught of gooseflesh that had permeated your skin, continuing to prickle along your spine.

With a brief chuckle, you reached for his chestnut tresses, tugging on his hair in order to bring him closer. “Fortunately, I have the King in the North to keep me warm,” You hummed, gasping when he brazenly groped at your haunch, strong hands kneading into you. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”

“Here?” Cregan uttered, timbre deliciously thick and husky with desire. Even if he wanted to claim you for himself, he would’ve taken you somewhere warmer, somewhere comfortable. “You’re no animal, my Lady. I wouldn’t fuck you into the dirt like one.” He rumbled, able to taste your yearning.

Honorable and gallant — you only wanted him more after that. As much as you desired to rip your armor off and let him have his way with you upon the rock, the mud and grime afterward wouldn’t have been pleasant. “Your chambers, then?” You mumbled, feeling his warm lips clamor from your jaw to your mouth.

“If that’s what you want,” Cregan murmured, a playful smirk toying at either corner of his mouth. It shattered his stoic countenance, melting away all of those dour inclinations he held before. “You might change your mind, and I wouldn’t fault you for it.”

A huff escaped you, brows furrowing together as you shook your head. Cregan thoroughly enjoyed that you spoke bluntly and plainly — he wanted you more than you realized, keeping his composure for the sake of propriety. There was no telling what could happen once you reached Winterfell.

“I will meet you at Winterfell.” Your answer was clear, solidified in stone. You appreciated that Cregan had given you an out, but that was the last thing you wanted. He gave you another kiss, teeth nicking your lower lip before you retrieved your longsword and mounted your horse.

Cregan watched you ride off from the Wolfswood — the new Lady of Winterfell.

A cold dusk cast its looming shadow over Winterfell, and with it, bringing the sting of ice and a light snowfall. Clouds made their presence known, gray and ominous, covering up the stars until none remained. Snowfalls in the North often ranged between fleeting and treacherous, and tonight seemed to be somewhere in the middle.

Following your dance in the Wolfswood with Cregan, the ride back to Winterfell gave you plenty to consider. You found his hesitation to be noble, but you had made your mind up some time ago. The moment where friendship now transcended into something else had come, and you knew what you wanted.

Perhaps you had kept him in suspense on purpose, waiting until the rest of the Great Keep was silenced before you made the tenuous trek to Cregan’s chambers. You had cleaned up perfectly well, clad in thick, furred robes, ones that left little to the imagination. You assumed that you wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight at all, if Cregan were still intending to follow through.

The doors to his chambers were heavy, embossed wood carved from the thick trunks of Wolfswood oak, the handles resembling the heads of wolves. There was no guard posted outside — there never was.

If anyone knew Cregan at all, it was his staunch independence and his desire for privacy. He was one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, and no guard would change such a thing. You stood outside, steeling yourself for what was to come.

Your hand hovered above the wood, palm pressing against it before you knocked thrice, breath hitching slightly at the sound of footsteps from the inside. Nervousness suddenly gripped you — none of this felt real at all, and you were prepared to wake up in some distant dream.

For the longest time, part of you had silently yearned from afar for Cregan, knowing that he would someday take a wife, and it wouldn’t be you. You were just friends, and you were cursed to admire him for all eternity with nothing coming to fruition. You had come to terms with it, but now?

Everything had changed.

He kissed you with a fervor in the Wolfswood, a kiss reserved for lovers — had he felt the same way, as you did? Was it simply the desire to have someone he trusted warm his bed? You were uncertain, and you wanted clarification.

The groan of oak reverberated throughout the stone corridors as Cregan opened the door, standing there, tall and indomitable, a tunic clinging to his chest. You could see so much more of him without the chain-and-leather armor, without the obstruction of a thick hide cloak. His broad shoulders seemed to relax in your presence.

Gods, you looked beautiful — Cregan had seen you dressed up on a handful of occasions, but they all paled in comparison to how you looked now, clad in the pelts of wolves, visage free of dirt. His grip tightened along the edge of the door, an effort to restrain himself from devouring you then and there.

“May I?” You asked, wringing your hands together in order to alleviate some of the tension. Cregan stepped aside, stormy-gray hues transfixed upon you as you crossed the threshold into his chambers. Your heart hammered within your chest as he shut the door, crossing the room to tend to the fire.

“I must know what this is, before we go any further.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, strained and desperate for an answer. “What have years of friendship come to, in your mind?” The question was direct, demanding that he state his intentions.

Cregan appeared perplexed, stepping toward you with a hooded expression. “Was that kiss in the Wolfswood not clear enough, my Lady?” He rumbled, hooking an arm around your hips. “I am a man of honor, and I wouldn’t dare tarnish your own. I am still your friend,” Cregan uttered, reaching up to cup your face, “And I am your lover.”

“If I wanted you to tarnish my honor?” You murmured, watching his countenance contort into a look of desire, as if you were invoking a challenge. Heat radiated from him in waves, sinking into your bones, making residence there. He was comfortable, a mountain of a man who held you so gently.

A brief huff escaped him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, yet it did not come to fruition. “I would do as my lady commands.” He grunted, pressing a kiss against your jaw. You tasted perfect, if that were even an accurate description.

His honeyed, husky words excited you — his commitment to you was laid bare before you, and you felt a familiar surge of arousal deep within your bones. “No one else?” Possessiveness swelled within you — you wanted Cregan for yourself. If this were to become something serious, you would make it clear.

“I am yours,” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together as he made his pledge to you. “And you are mine. I would not have it any other way.” He assured you, calloused hand kneading into the swell of your hip through the thick layer of fur that concealed your body. He wished to see it all for himself.

Your foreheads touched for a moment, and despite the charged, tenuous element of sexuality floating about, you quite enjoyed the tenderness of it. “I am yours, and you are mine.” The pledge was soft-spoken through you lips, prompting Cregan to press a kiss against the top of your head.

Without hesitation, your fingers curled into the coarse fabric of his tunic, gripping tightly as you pulled yourself up for a kiss, but Cregan met you halfway in a frenzy. His kiss was ravenous, filled with a rapturous hunger that did not appear subtle at all.

Gone was the chill of winter, replaced by the burning fire that smoldered between the both of you. He kissed you hard, teeth raking across your lower lip as he hauled you close, until there was no sliver of space left between. There was no shortage of desire or passion either, as Cregan’s hand pushed against the leather ties of your robe, wanting to feel your soft skin underneath.

“Cregan.” You exhaled, shivering when you heard that growl reverberate within his throat. Your hands joined him in their lascivious crusade, untethering the rough leather strings of your gown, loosening it up until it sagged upon your body. You nodded to him, a subtle signal that he could have whatever he wanted.

He pushed the thick material aside, watching as it fell around your feet, softly thudding against the stone. You wore nothing at all underneath, supple and beautiful, skin as soft as silk, all belonging to him. “Expecting something from me, were you?” Cregan murmured, pushing your tresses aside, exposing the expanse of your pretty neck to him.

A soft groan tore past your parted lips, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished. He pressed a hot trail of kisses along your face, starting there as he began to move downward. “Perhaps.” You huffed, listening to his chest vibrate with a brief bout of laughter. The sound was like music to your ears.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled his praises into your flesh like a prayer. His roughened palm moved to clasp against the nape of your neck, digits reaching for your hair as he brought his mouth to your jaw, teeth and lips working in-tandem.

Cregan shivered when your colder fingertips hitched beneath his tunic, feeling the thick, corded muscle of his torso, the few scars here and there. Your digits toyed with the leather waist of his trousers, skimming upward to flatten your palm against his abdomen.

You moaned when he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, but delicate enough not to break through your skin. He felt along the soft dips and bends of your curves, traveling wherever he pleased until he sank his hands sank your haunches, unable to keep from touching you.

Everything about you invited him in, intentionally or unintentionally. The scent of various herbs and perfumes clung to you, intertwined with that of leather. Each embrace of his mouth was purposeful, burying into the hollow between your shoulder and throat, seeking to make his mark, imprint himself upon you.

He moved enough for you to remove his tunic, assisting in maneuvering the garment off and away from his body. You let it drop to the floor, kicking aside your robes to form a growing pile of garments.

Cregan was perfect — a true Northman, with a hardened body to prove it. He was all thick muscle and strength, sturdy and broad-shouldered. It was refreshing to see a man that didn’t lack in fortitude, and you reached forward, caressing your fingers over the plane of his musculature. He shuddered at your embrace, lips parting slightly.

He kissed you again, devouring your mouth with an unrestrained desire. Even if lust had taken hold, Cregan preferred displays of rough passion instead, wanting to show you just how much you meant to him, the things you did.

A growl stirred within his chest, hands grabbing your hips as he steered you toward the furs in front of the hearth. You reached for his head, tugging on his chestnut tresses as you reciprocated each kiss with one of your own, one that echoed his own fervor.

“Lay down.” He rumbled, gaze simmering with ardor as he watched you descend onto the furs, pelts of direwolves that enveloped you perfectly. Cregan towered over you, lowering himself onto his knees as he pushed your legs aside, bullying himself between them.

You shivered when he kissed your collarbone, roughened palm kneading into the pliant flesh of your thigh. He wanted to savor all of you first, taste you upon his tongue, let your scent linger. Cregan’s mouth was domineering and rough, biting wherever he could, listening to your satisfied whimpers.

“I want to taste you.” Cregan murmured, his voice a husky timbre that sent shockwaves throughout your body, striking at the pit of your stomach. It filled you with a sense of desire, goosebumps cascading along your spine. His inquiry was masked as a statement, but he awaited your approval.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded, feeling a lick of excitement trail down until it settled between your thighs. “Please.” It was all you really needed to say, your incendiary gaze alone inciting a rapturous hunger inside of him.

His descent was slow, ensuring that you felt every nip of his teeth, every kiss emblazoning itself upon your flesh. You sighed with passion, meeting his tempestuous, gray-eyed stare, one that smoldered with desire. You reached for his face, fingers sweeping around his jaw, and you watched as he kissed your palm.

The gesture was brief yet sweet, a break in the swelling tide of carnality and wanton need. Cregan pressed a kiss against your collarbone before he continued his downward venture, lips drifting over both of your breasts, hungrily making his mark against your sensitive skin.

A low grunt escaped him when your digits threaded themselves into his tresses instead, finding their purchase at the base of his skull. The warmth of his mouth drifted over your stomach, feeling Cregan bite at your hips, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. It drove him wild, the desire to claim you seeping into his bones.

Cregan wasn’t much of a talker during acts of sensuality — he preferred to show you through action, instead. When he made it to the apex of your thighs, he settled against the furs, orange firelight dancing across the taut, thick muscle of his shoulders. He pushed your legs apart, letting them rest across his back, rough hands kneading along your legs.

Your breath hitched within your throat, stomach churning with excitable butterflies and arousal. The slick warmth that had coagulated between your thighs was a welcome sight to Cregan, who felt a twinge of smugness knowing that you’d gotten wet already.

He listened to the tremor within your exhale, the squirming of your body atop the furs, the subtle twitch of your thigh when he bit into the sensitive flesh. You were endlessly soft — velveteen beneath his fingertips. The contrast between his rough palms and your smoothness was a perfect duality.

The gray intensity of his stare left you breathless, and he did not break eye contact as he kissed your slit, prompting you to shiver. His tongue raked hot embers across your aching cunt, deliberate and intentional, driving you to an agonizing madness.

Cregan pulled you closer, a growl ringing within the depths of his throat as he sought your cunt, greedily lapping over your slit. He split past your folds, ravenous for whatever you would give him. It made you moan, hand gripping his hair, hips absentmindedly jolting into the vigor of his mouth.

He seemed so herculean, even now as he rested between your legs, broad shoulders etched with a slight tension. His brow was creased in concentration, a low hum escaping him as he devoured your cunt. Cregan did not have any qualms about staying there, head buried between your thighs.

That taut heat within your stomach had been wound so tight, like a coil threatening to snap in two. His mouth was voracious, lapping and kissing wherever he pleased, with the enthusiasm of a man starved. He was passionate and somewhat rough, occasionally turning to bite into the pliant flesh of your thighs.

“Cregan,” You moaned, writhing beneath him, feeling his strong hands clamp down upon your legs, locking you into place. It was pure bliss and agony all rolled into one, your other hand fisting the thick furs beneath you. “Don’t stop,” A whine tore past your mouth, with the wolf more than willing to oblige. “Don’t stop.”

A huff escaped him, one that filled his belly with a raging fire. His cock throbbed within his leather breeches, aching with want for you. He wasn’t about to let you buck and move at your leisure — he wanted you all to himself. His tongue continued to lap at your cunt with heavy strokes, stoking the flame of your arousal.

You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again.

The sound of your soft, pleading voice calling his name made him grunt, digits digging into your thighs, hard enough to leave faint bruises. You enjoyed the display of strength, his desire to mark you, claim you for his own. The wolf festered within him, and you were prepared to submit to him.

Cregan was stoic and dominant, yet those storm-colored hues softened whenever they flickered toward your visage, the image of grace and beauty. You had always been pretty, yet your perfection reared its head fully when you opened yourself up to him. He was enthralled, reduced to a mere pup in your presence.

His mouth pursed around the pearl of your cunt, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. You gasped, the sensation sudden yet blissful, causing your thighs to squeeze his head slightly. Cregan grunted, forcing you apart again, nose grazing your folds.

The growing shadow of his coarse beard scratched against your thighs, providing you with a brief sting — a delicious sting, at that. You had often teased Cregan for being baby-faced, but he had elected to grow out a bit of scruff, and for that, you were grateful.

He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal. Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, grip him tight.

The warmth from the hearth danced across your body, illuminating your soft curves and silky skin. Inklings of perspiration began to shimmer against your chest, the fire’s intensity combined with Cregan’s constant body heat. He ran hot, hot-blooded like any Northerner.

His mouth didn’t relent, continuing to suck and kiss at your clit, tongue flicking against your slick entrance. He let one hand drop from your thigh, yet the other still kept you pinned into place. The first stroke of his thick digits against your core made your head spin in a delirium of desire.

Your hips lurched forward, attempting to gain any shred of friction, despite Cregan keeping you locked into place. You felt as if you were going to explode, seeing stars within your vision as his teeth grazed your clit. The sudden sensation made you shiver, hand fisting into his hair.

Cregan teased your entrance, searching your face for any signs of discomfort as his digits worked their way inside of you. You were tight, slick and warm around him as he sluggishly pumped them in and out of you. “That’s it,” He rumbled, grunting when you pulled on his tresses again. “Easy, my lady.” His tone held a playful remnant to it.

A brief huff escaped you, one of mild amusement. The sweetness that ebbed between the both of you soon dissipated into an air of seriousness once again, with Cregan tormenting you, mouth on your clit. He drew each sound out of you with a vengeance, feeling your legs tremble on either side of him.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.

“Cregan,” You moaned, grabbing his hair so tightly that you feared you might rip it from his scalp. The roughness of it only spurred him on, enjoying your ironclad grasp as he assailed your cunt with careful laps and thrusts of his fingers. “Gods, I’m close!” You huffed, back arching off of the furs.

He wanted to do it to you again — again and again, make your body submit to him. Lust and passion swelled within him, blossoming through his chest, coupled with the possessiveness he felt over you. You belonged to him, now — his Lady of Winterfell, his.

Cregan didn’t intensify his pace or slow down, and instead, continued his ministrations with a sense of fervor and duty. His fingers and mouth worked in a blissful tandem, nose occasionally bumping into the hood of your clit, tongue dancing across your slit. He felt you shudder beneath him.

A flood of sheer ecstasy consumed you, flesh prickling with an overwhelming warmth as you shivered, reaching your climax in a white-hot crescendo. Your back arched completely, head tossed back against the furs, hands wrangling with Cregan’s tresses.

The buzz you felt afterwards was a pleasant feeling, and as you rode out your peak, you sank back into the mounds of wolf’s fur beneath you. Your grip began to slack on Cregan, enough for him to lift his head, gaze hooded and affectionate.

He pressed a series of sweet kisses along the inside of your thigh, reaching up to the bend of your knee. Perspiration glittered along his temples, but he was far from over — his hunger still prevailed. “You’ve got a grip like steel.” He grunted, moving forward to rest his head against your stomach.

A brazen, lascivious thought passed through him — your belly swollen with his child, an heir to Winterfell, a child of House Stark. It was reckless and wild to think of something so bold, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, somewhat flustered at your capability to nearly rip Cregan’s tresses right from their roots. He shook his head, his steely-eyed gaze flickering toward you. “I was quite consumed by the moment.” You confessed.

Cregan crawled forward, pressing a kiss against your mouth. You could taste yourself upon his tongue, evoking a whimper from between your lips. “Never apologize.” He rumbled, briefly nudging his forehead against yours. You observed him in silence, gaze swimming with affection as he rolled off of you.

He immediately stooped down to scoop you right off of the furs, hooking his bulky arms underneath you. You laughed, palms flat against the warm expanse of his chest, foreheads pressed together yet again. You didn’t need to say anything — you knew what came next.

Cregan gently deposited you onto his bed, his shadow eclipsing the glow of the firelight. He seemed massive at this angle, but his gentleness was notable with how he handled you. He unlaced the leather ties of his breeches, stepping out of them.

You happened to swallow at the sight of him — a mountain of a man, truly. A pang of nervousness struck at your gut, afraid that he wouldn’t fully fit inside of you, but it was fleeting. You knew that he would make sure that you were comfortable above all else.

His countenance, often laced with an unapproachable stoicism, softened at the sight of you — it wasn’t something commonplace. You had certainly eased the tension, his shoulders no longer weighted with stress or the burden of leadership.

A brief ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth — if you blinked, you might’ve missed it. “Are you smiling?” You whispered, doe-eyed and enamored with your Northman. Your hands trailed across the honed muscle of his shoulders, nails tracing across his back, and then to his chest.

Admittedly, it was difficult to keep a stony face around you, especially now, with your vibrant, exuberant smile and smitten gaze. Though, in the spirit of playfulness, he let out a rumbling hum, joining you atop his bed. The frame beneath groaned slightly in protest. “Perhaps.” He murmured.

He covered you with his burly physique, chestnut tresses framing his face, gray eyes drinking you in with a hint of tenderness. For as rough and rugged as he could be, Cregan became gentler for you — it wasn’t something he was used to.

Chest to chest, you craned forward, lips seeking his own as you kissed him. It was sickly-sweet, as gentle as a maiden, and Cregan found himself wanting you all over again. A low grunt of approval emerged from his throat, brows furrowing together as he reciprocated.

You reached for his bicep, palm unable to grip around the bulk of his muscle. It made you realize how much smaller you really were than him, in all senses of the word — stature and muscle mass. He had all the advantages on you, but you quite enjoyed the amusing contrast of sizes.

To Cregan, it thoroughly aroused him, seeing your silky digits attempt to wrap around his arm, only to fail miserably. He treated you like a prized jewel, afraid to harm you, afraid to drop you — it made his cock twitch against your thigh, and he heard the hitch within your throat.

“I’ll be gentle.” Cregan assured you, calloused palm gliding along the length of your thigh in an attempt to ease your worrying. You feared that he would split you in half with his cock — not that it was a terrible way to go, but you did want to walk on the morrow.

He lowered his head to your chest, peppering kisses all along your breasts and collarbone, the ridge of his nose brushing over your sternum. The tip of his hardened length slid across your slick entrance, prompting you to shiver with anticipation.

With a shove of his hips, the head of his cock pushed into your cunt, his girth and size something you needed to adjust to. A strangled whine left you, lips agape and slack, hands clawing at his biceps as he gingerly made his way inside of you, inch by agonizing inch.

The discomforting pang of being stretched made your body crawl, attempting to get comfortable beneath him. Cregan noticed the twinge of pain that fluttered across your countenance, and he soothed you with a kiss against your brow, palm still caressing your thigh.

It felt incredible — certainly an adjustment, but pleasurable nonetheless. The girth of his cock filled you completely in ways you hadn’t felt before, and you knew that he would be the only one you would ever want. Discomfort inevitably dissipated into bliss as Cregan gave you time to grow used to him.

“Need you to move,” You whimpered, noticing the fire burning within his eyes, like smoldering embers come to life. Those stormy-gray hues drank you in with the hunger of a starving wolf, and he moved your back up enough to place a feather pillow beneath your hips. “Cregan.”

The newfound angle made you reel from ecstasy, feeling the way in which his cock hit that spot of pleasure for you. He shuddered when you moaned his name, and it activated something salacious inside of him. He thought of you, the Lady of Winterfell, Lady Stark, full and round with his child, his heir.

He moved, then.

His hips snapped forward as he attempted to restrain himself from fucking you into a stupor, executing a great amount of gentleness, fueled with an amorous intensity. Cregan was passionate, cock rutting into you, hitting new depths as he began to show you just how much he wanted you.

A grunt left him when your knees bumped into his hips, occasionally squeezing him like a vice, but the bulk of his musculature kept you properly spread apart. Your mouth clamored for his, lips meeting in a tangle of tongue and teeth. Your nails dug into the thick muscle of his bicep, other hand reaching for the nape of his neck.

You felt him reach for your hand, roughened digits intertwining with yours as he placed it beside your head, pounding into you with a gentle fervor. Cregan was tempered and measured about his movements, sheathing his cock inside of you fully with each thrust.

A myriad of needy moans and whimpers left you, and you did little to conceal the height of their volume. You groaned into Cregan’s mouth when he snapped forward again, and you felt as if he might break you in half — in the best way possible, of course.

His cock was akin to the force of a battering ram in slow motion, ensuring that every thrust drove you to madness, your walls tight around him. The friction between your bodies only contributed to the tension, your chest snug against his, lips tangled together, his roughened digits groping at your thigh.

Your nails raked faint trails of red across the thick muscle of his bicep, prompting him to growl into your mouth, kissing you as if it would be his very last time. There was a subtle desperation to Cregan, coupled with that innate instinct to breed, fill you with his seed and let you carry his child.

The Northern winds began to howl outside, bringing with it an onslaught of snow, and yet you had never been warmer, happily trapped beneath the herculean mass of Cregan Stark. Your foreheads touched on occasion, each kiss building with want until it had exploded into something hot and messy.

Perspiration lingered upon both of your bodies, as his chambers became increasingly hot, like that of a fever pitch. Cregan used some of his body as leverage, pushing himself inside of you again, cock sheathed within you completely until he pulled back, and thrust again. The action became increasingly intense, yet he kept himself in-check.

Your body was perfect, a sight for him alone, made by the Old Gods — he couldn’t thank them enough. Cregan gave you another blistering kiss, letting you linger upon his tongue before he withdrew, mouth lowering towards your chest once more. He was hellbent on pleasing you while chasing after his own release.

As he took one of your breasts into his maw, he felt the sly return of your digits tangling within his hair, and he couldn’t help but briefly smirk into your flesh. He reveled in the way you manhandled him so brazenly, gripping him tightly as your leg hitched around his hips.

Cregan didn’t relent, cock driving into you with a needy force, aching and throbbing inside of you. Your thighs twitched and trembled, and he continued to trace his hand across it before grabbing at your haunch, pliant flesh filling his palm.

Grunts and low rumbles escaped him, colliding with your own symphony of moans and whimpers, desperate for him to come undone. You rolled your hips forward whenever you could, friction creating another delicious wave of heat between the both of you.

He gently bit at your chest, face nestled there as his pace became a touch quicker, cock battering into you, kissing your slick cunt over and over again. Those tantalizing fantasties of filling you with his seed tormented him, driving him into a frenzy.

He hit that spot between your legs that seemed to make you writhe, grabbing at his chestnut tresses, back arching slightly as he turned your senses into mush. Cregan groaned, the sound heavy and husky in your ear as he came, spilling himself deep inside of you. He continued to thrust into you afterwards, the motions considerably softer and less invigorated.

A huff escaped him, a quick breath to regain his composure. His stamina was rather impressive, and if you asked it of him, he would’ve continued on well into the night, but your countenance seemed etched with mild exhaustion.

You whimpered when he stayed inside of you, head bowing towards yours as he pressed a kiss against your forehead, and then to your lips. The gesture was inherently tender despite his rough demeanor, enough for you to loosely drape your arms around his shoulders.

Cregan rolled over to lay next to you, his large form taking up a sizable portion of his bed. He coaxed you close, thick arm snaking around you as he tugged you into the warm expanse of his chest, propped up against the pillows.

The silence was a comforting one, a blissful aftermath of affectionate sentiments and declarations of adoration. He made sure that you were comfortable, shrouding you in the blanket of wolf pelts, showering you in gentle kisses. His grasp was inherently protective, as if he were shielding you from some invisible force.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” Cregan uttered, checking to see if you were unwell. He sometimes got carried away in the moment, and you weren’t exactly tall and stocky like himself. He needed to accommodate you, and that sometimes included being gentler.

With a smitten smile, you nodded, peering up at him through your lashes. Your thighs continued to scream with a dull ache, cunt throbbing and sticky with his seed and your arousal. “Very much so.” You replied, head resting atop his chest as you traced patterns against his abdomen. “If I weren’t so spent, I would ask you to do it again.”

A brief huff of amusement left Cregan, who held you close, reaching for your hand as he cradled it within his own, his other hand firmly situated atop the swell of your hip. “I cannot promise that I would not ravage you the second the opportunity arose.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

“If that’s what I wanted?” You challenged, noticing the way his expression contorted into a look of desire, but above all, pure devotion. Cregan enjoyed your flirtatious remarks and subtle challenges, chest vibrating with a hum of approval.

“Then you are in for a long night, Lady Stark.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

[hor3nee]

• Fatherhood •

What kind of dads are the JJK men ?

CW/TW: GN! Reader, Mentions of crappy parenting, BREIF mention of pregnancy in Geto's, (Lmk if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji x Reader

AN: Almost cried writing this the baby fever is going HARD rn dude. Headcanons !

• Gojo •

Menace of a father, but in the good way! Gojo spends his years raising his kids as if he's their best friend, truly and genuinely treats his kids as equals and in a sweet way, allows his children to have complete trust in him. Because Gojo is quite childish himself, he loves playing with his kids, making a fool of himself, and indulging with them.

Has a bit of a bad side to this though, his lack of traditional discipline or making himself the 'adult' in the situation leads the kids to both be very spoiled and not really ever listen to him.

"Sweetheart, darling, my perfect angel, can you please go to bed?? pretty please! Help your old man here, please??"

"Nuh uh!" And with that bout of defiance, he's back to running up to you, like HE'S the child, begging for your help. Because it seems you're the only one who can get the kids in line, and you do.

Plays pranks and teases the hell out of his kids as they get older, always in a loving way of course, but nonetheless loves getting them flustered over his stupidity. Type of dad to do dumbass dances in the middle of a Walmart to embarrass his kids.

• Geto •

Geto is optimum of what it means to be a gentle parent. Cannot, for the life of him, bring it in himself to yell at his kids. He's so soft-spoken, never so much as raising his voice against his children. Geto has children who respond to his voice alone, because it's so lulling, he's familiarized them with it and made them feel safe with it.

Doesn't mean he can't discipline them, of course he can, and he does so extremely gracefully. Whenever you're on your last straw with the kids, fighting the urge to start scolding them and yell, he steps in, smoothly taking over and the kids instantly listen to him.

"We're your parents, honey, c'mon that's not very nice to say, is it? They carried you for 9 months you know. Say sorry." Like magic the kids shut up and come over to you apologizing while Geto stands back, calmly having fixed the situation with ease.

With everything Geto does, has done, experienced etc, he can sometimes feel conflicted. Geto knows what he is capable of, and what he has done, he's extremely self-aware even if he justifies it, and he can struggle to balance the weight of all of it while also remaining a dutiful father.

Despite it, he does wonders keeping it separate from what his children have to see or experience, teaches them respect and kindness and hopes they hold true to it.

• Nanami •

Not a single man on this list fathers as hard as Nanami fathers. He's built for it like no other. Nanami treats fatherhood with his all, he puts his all into it and makes damn certain he does right by it. Stern when necessary, sweet when needed, provides for his kids and refuses to miss any important milestone of theirs.

Nanami is a calm man but the second work starts piling potentially making him miss his kids school play or something he's arguing with his supervisors and ready to throw hands.

He keeps the drawings his kids make on his desk, alongside a photo of you and your kids. Literally just stares at it while working smiling, unable to wait till he's home with the kids. They are his pride and joy genuinely.

No matter how over-worked Nanami may be though, when he comes home you are basically on vacation. Insists you rest and he takes over literally everything involving the kids.

"Darling, darling no, I got this covered. You take rest. You know I love spending time with my kids." He says with an earnest smile, both kids in his beefy arms just dangling around and playing with their father. He's definitely exhausted from work, but that never stops him.

• Sukuna •

The King of the Curses, as cruel and terrifying as he is, taking pleasure in all sorts of sickness and treating love as pointless, legitimately likes his kid.

He doesn't care about fatherhood, or the responsibilities that being a parent entails, but it's nice having a mini version of himself around. That he likes. An extension of himself and you, it's nice to have around he doesn't mind it. He may act aloof about it, not outwardly showing affection like hugs or kisses, but he clearly enjoys it.

He gets a massive ego trip when his kids cause chaos and disturbances. Points at them laughing with his belly "See that? That's mine."

Sukuna never minces his words though, and his kids have to get used to his bluntness. Again, he doesn't care for the concept of 'parenting', and will in their face call the kid some extreme insults and weak and they have to learn to take it.

On the flip side, Sukuna also never minces his praise, and Sukuna has an abundance to give his kids. Every accomplishment or show of strength that they show he'll let them know he's proud. A good ol' fashioned fatherly slap to their shoulder while he praises them.

He treasures his children, and even if he doesn't put much effort into parenting them, you taking over most of it, he's definitely a present figure in their lives.

• Toji •

Went to get milk, hasn't been seen since.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Best friend

Tw: female reader, emotional manipulation, jealousy, toxicity, crude language, implied parental abuse/neglect, implied drugs, non - consensual touching, i love manipulative men too much for my own good :((

Summary: Toxic, codependent friendship turns sour. But that's really no surprise.

You love Lauren's flat. You know he's renting it for cheap because his dad is friends with the landlord - and he doesn't give a fuck about the place. You know by the wrappers on the ground and the cigarettes stacked burnt inside the drawers, the stench of weed stuck to the ceiling for what feels like forever - and it's no surprise. Lauren doesn't care about all the good things in his life. And you know by the broken mirror pieces never to be swept away and the pills hidden behind the sink.

Still, you like his flat. The kitchen alone is bigger than your mom's entire house. The fridge is never empty - full from top to bottom, to the very brim, bursting with everything from your favourite chocolate candy to cheap vodka, from top shelf whiskey to pickled onions and fancy imported foreign items you have never seen before with your own two eyes. All colorful, all set in alphabetical order - he's a neat freak like that, and it's no surprise. The central heating never stops, and it's never cold. It's a land of dreams, and some days you wish you could stay forever.

***

"Haha, aw." You whisper to yourself, shoulders moving slowly up and down in sync. You try to stop the slight blush from reaching your face, but it's inevitable, truly. You barely notice when your best friend sneaks behind you, quiet as a snake ready to bite into your open vein.

"You look awfully happy." He observes with certain distaste, almost grimacing - you don't have to look up from your phone, you know him too well, he must be grimacing, and clicking his tongue. "Did the old hag kick the bucket or somethin'?" His lips twist in a cruel little smile as he wraps his arms around your frame - which never ceases to make you feel as if you have a tiny mischievous demon on your shoulder. "No, wait, don't tell me you're getting fired from the burger place. That's even better!" His eyes glow with childish joy as he teases you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

"N-no, it's nothing like that. It's really stupid..." You try to look anywhere but at him, fiddling with your phone nervously. "Just go back to reading your book and leave me alone, jerk." You attempt to joke back, but your anxiety gives you away. It's foolish to lie to him to begin with - he's known you for years. He's known you since your father died, since your mother stopped caring whether you're alive or not. He's known you since you broke down in his arms for the first time. He's known you in nothing but smeared mascara and torn bottomless pockets, though empty wallets; he's known you, body and soul (and lips too, all those years ago). So of course he knows that you're lying.

"What is it?" He humms playfully leaning over your shoulder, chin resting on top of your breast. You feel the sweat sticking to his neck (was he in a fight again?), the heavy colognue coming off his black shirt as he tries to read the words on your screen. You quickly turn off your phone, and Lauren pouts, pretending to be upset. "What's so damn important that you can't even tell your best friend?" His voice is light and airy, privy, overwhelmingly sweet and sticky like burnt caramel.

You open your mouth, but no speech comes out. You feel embarrassed. You don't even know where to start. Then the man raises an eyebrow expectantly, eyes prompting Well?, growls in irritation quickly after, and reaches for a new thin cigarette, all in the same breath. He's always been like this - quick to set aflame. Impossible to predict. Hard to resist. Soft, sometimes. In your arms, mostly.

"Fine." He snaps at last, brows furrowed like an angered father as he stands up to get his keys from the table, heading towards the door. "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I'm the only person in this ugly, shitty world who, like, dunno, gives a fuck about yo-"

"You'll just mock me!" You squeak out, crossing your arms together - regretting even laughing in the first place. Then, even more quietly. "If I tell you."

Lauren stills completely, slowly turning back towards you. Your heartbeat speeds up even more, if possible.

"What the fuck happened?" He remains serious, although slightly less aggravated now. "You know I hate this cryptic bullshit you do. Just speak up, you're not a child anymore." He gets closer to you, pointing at your chest. "M not your mommy, ain't gonna hit ya if you say the wrong thing."

You take a deep breath, eyes focused on the cigar hanging off his mouth - together with the sport hoodie and the cheap black beanie he looks like a small fish delinquent, and you have to stop yourself from laughing. But then you remember why you even fought in the first place, and you feel flustered all over again.

"I met someone." You blurt out in a rush to get it over with, averting your eyes to the TV still playing somewhere in the background. The sound has been turned to low - he says the commercials make him want to scratch his head from the inside.

"Huh?" His cigarette falls off. Ash all over the dirty wooden tiles.

"I met someon-

"Yes, I heard you the first time." Lauren pronounces slowly, lips stretching into his oh - so characteristic smile again. "I just couldn't believe it." He stomps over the half lit cigar, burning a hole into the floor. It doesn't look out of order with all the filth. "Who would have known. Heh." He stares at you for entirely too long - until you squirm with discomfort. "Who's the lucky guy?"

You want to ask him why it's so unbelievable for you to meet someone - but it's hard to find the words to. At the same time you know he's just joking, he'd never do anything to hurt you. He's just... rough around the edges.

"You don't know him." Warm heat travels through your body as you think about your secret admirer. "We met online."

"Of course you did." Your friend scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. Then he claps sardonically, lighting up another cigarette. He must have hundreds, if not thousands lying around. "Well, congratulations, princess. You may finally get pounded like a real bitch in heat. Isn't that nice?" The more you look at him, the more crooked his smirk seems to get.

"You're fucking disgusting." You hiss, standing up - ready to collect your things and leave.

You hate when he gets like this.

"Oh, not so fast. We're still talking, baby. Tell me everything." Lauren grabs your elbow, pulling you in with ease, and if he wasn't your best friend, you'd be terrified by how strong he is despite his seemingly slim build. "Does he tell you that you're beautiful? That you're just the most precious thing in the entire world?" His voice lowers down to a whisper in your ear. "Or is he even less creative with his lies?"

You pull away, eyes widening with disbelief.

"He's not like this! How can you even say all th-" You blurt out incoherently, but he stops you in the tracks with a single sharp glare. "He's not like that?" The man snorts in a rather nasty way, pulling you back in while you're too shocked to resist. "You're even dumber that I thought." His eyes narrow to two slits bleeding bile. "Did he fuck you already? Is that why you're acting so naive? You get some mediocre dick and now you're all star - eyed." He laughs with unhinged madness, orbs mudded with pure craze.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. You both stare at it for what feels like eternity - but he's faster, always. Ever since you were children. And as you're jumping away, fighting with teeth and nail to get your phone back, he's reading away at your most intimate thoughts and feelings.

"I feel like I've known you for ages." He reads out loud, trying to imitate the voice of the sender. "You must be my other half. I'd love to hold you and cherish you forever." The mocking nasal tone sinks with each word, and once he reaches "forever", it's almost silent. His hands are shaking, eyes blurry. The ink drowns the screen as if trying to get under his own fingernails.

And when he smashes the phone in the ground, it's really no surprise.

"Lauren!" You gasp, falling down to collect the pieces, grabbing at the broken plastic with feral grip. But there's just too many of them, and not enough glue in the whole wide world.

"I should have known you were up to no good in that miserable house. That crack-whore mother of yours is putting these... ideas in your head." He chuckles coldly, staring at you from aboving with unreadable expression - and from so low on the ground he looks like the sun. "She made you believe someone could actually love... you."

He suddenly squats down to your level.

"News-fucking-flash, sweetheart." His fist wraps around your hair, pulling at will. It burns your scalp, but you can't look away, hypnotized by the motion of his lips, the silky cruelty of his voice teasing your ears. "Nobody loves you. Nobody will ever love you - not your poor dead bum of a father, not that bitch you call mother and certainly not this fool you think you love. How could they love you? You're a fucking mess!"

He's laughing at the tears slowly pouring down your cheeks. You're so beautiful when you cry.

"How could they love you?" He repeats softly, stroking your cold wet cheek with two slender fingers - the same fingers that always dry your tears. Then his lips touch your eyelids, slowly, torturously - the same lips that always bring you to tears. "They wouldn't know what to do with you. Such a fragile girl." His nose rubs against your collarbone and suddenly you're drowning in your sadness like a sailor lost at sea. "Such a fragile, broken little girl."

And yet you still love Lauren's apartment, it's never cold, and it's always silent. So silent you can hear your own heartbeat - and so lonely you can taste your tears on his lips.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “CAN YOU WATCH A SHOW WITH ME?”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!gdragon x fem reader ft top 🤭

୨ৎ genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

୨ৎ summary: for some reason he never wanted to seem like the type to enjoy dramas or any sort of reality show but when it came to you? he would do anything to spend time with you and that’s what you enjoyed doing the most! watching a good ole kdrama. what he didn’t expect is getting into it so much he kept watching.. even when you weren’t home.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello! hello!! so happy to receive this request especially for my sweet jiyong ): absolutely loving all of the new content with him recently!! how are you guys feeling about it? anyway! please enjoy this and thank you for being here x

“princess? I’m home!” a gasp left your lips once hearing the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend jiyong, you quickly ditched the bag of chocolates that were just about gone and ran into his warm arms. his long hours at the studio killed the both of you in several ways even when he would call to invite you over because it would just be him for a little while, you never could. the part time job you took on to stay busy when he was had ruined perfect moments of spending quality time together. jiyong would urge you to quit and be by his side but the cafè was a place that you loved the most and it was harder than ever to give it up. when you were a child your dream was to become a baker or a small cafè owner and getting to work in one was the most precious thing that you since it had been the closest to owning one—being delusional is the key to everything.

“oh, my pretty girl I missed you so much. what have you been doing without me, hm?” jiyong left a trail of gentle kisses down your neck lightly biting on the skin like he always did, his hands on your waist keeping you close to his body. shrugging your shoulders and giving him a small pout he reached up and poked at your lips before kissing them and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards the living room. “jiyong? please can you watch a show with me? please! you’ll like it I promise you will.” so that’s what you wanted from him. a chuckle left his lips and he slowly nodded his head while falling against the soft cushion and bringing you down with him, another gasp leaving your lips while your hands were placed against his shoulders. “seriously?! you will!? this is great! it’s called bloodhounds and you’ll like it! I promise. I can’t wait to watch it with you.” a childish squeal of joy left you as you pushed yourself off of him and jumped around the living room a few times before disappearing into the kitchen, grabbing a few of his favorite snacks just so he would remain happy while you both watched the show.

it was harder than ever for jiyong to just sit and watch something with you because he was always distracted by every little thing you would do, leaning his body forward to press a quick kiss to your lips or cheek. his arms would be wrapped around you tightly and he would sometimes stop watching just to stare at you wanting to see all your reactions to certain scenes in the show finding it adorable when you looked shocked or confused. jiyong finally started paying attention after the first fight scene that took place and he had to admit that it caught his attention because if that was you in this situation he would do anything to save you. “you know, if that was you I would do my best to fight and save you even if I died trying.” feeling his lips against your ear made you giggle and you turned to look at him shaking your head, “no! I would never let you do such a thing and hurt yourself. don’t talk like that.” even if that would never happen thinking about it broke you in several ways and your body leaned slightly to give him a peck before turning to watch the show again. jiyong just smiled and let his head rest against your shoulder while you both continued the show.

finding yourself staring at the clock on the wall counting down the minutes until you’re off and running all the way back to your shared apartment with jiyong to finish the show you started a few days ago, your coworker noticed and only laughed at you looking so determined to get out of here even if you loved the job. “I see you’re excited to get out of here.” she spoke up and broke you from the weird trance you had been in while staring at the clock, “I am. jiyong and I started a show together and I’m so excited to finish it with him. we’ve never watched a show like this together!” your coworker could only give you a sweet smile. she always thought the both of you were perfect together. she was an older woman who’d give you advice when you needed it the most and how to go about things and if it wasn’t for her then jiyong wouldn’t be in your life right now. “go ahead. we’re just about to close anyway I think keeping him waiting any longer won’t be a good idea.” another giggle left her lips and your eyes widened nodding your head frantically and quickly ditching the apron you wore while baking and making drinks. quickly giving you a hug before running out the door and waving to her while you could still see her little frame in the shop, you ran all the way to the apartment.

luckily for you the cafè was only down the road so it wasn’t anything major to get there and back to the apartment. not paying attention to your surroundings because of the excitement rushing through your veins you felt your body crash into another, much broader and larger than your own. gasping and looking up to immediately apologize to the stranger—your eyes widened seeing it was seunghyun. “hey!! what are you doing here?! it’s so nice to see you again but I’m super busy and have to go. give me and jiyong a call and we can all hang out!” you nodded at him while giving him a very quick but tight hug before taking off down the hallway probably looking like a crackhead at this point but you could careless. finally entering the apartment and rushing to the living room your eyebrows furrowed at the sight in front of you and jiyong quickly grabbed the remote to get rid of the evidence you had already saw. “jiyong… what’s this?” you asked stepping a bit closer finally seeing the end credits and you lunged forward to grab the remote from him seeing he was indeed on the last episode. “jiyong!!” yelling at him and pouting your lips as you turned to look at him in disbelief that he would finish without you. by the look on his face you could tell he felt bad but he was so curious to see what happened and couldn’t wait any longer. his arms slowly wrapped around your waist and pulled you against him even though you tried to fight back he was still much stronger than you. “you knew I was so excited to watch this with you. why would you finish it without me?” trying your best to sound mean or intimidating in a way but it didn’t exactly work when he found you so cute even during a time like this.

“I’m sorry baby, I was so curious to see what was going to happen but let’s continue, hm? I’ll act as if I never watched it before just for you and then we can be shocked together!” you smacked his chest since he had already given a little bit away with the word that he decided to use. “fine..” you started but didn’t finish when he pressed his lips against your own in a sweet kiss and he knew that would make things better since you loved his soft lips so much. smiling into the kiss you grabbed his face with your smaller hands and kept him close to you, the kiss lasting a few more moments before you wrapped your arms around his neck and crawled into his lap. “missed you so much today. let’s make something to eat and watch the show please.” jiyong nodded his head and pressed a few kisses to the side of your face before picking you up and bringing the both of you to the kitchen, deciding to order take out and not worry about cooking anything else.

[bamfkeeper]

Cooking with Kurt.

RQ: 'So, I’ve been thinking lately about cute ideas, and one of them is about cooking. Could you write a head-cannons (or a fic if you like the idea and want to be more in-depth) of Kurt and the Reader cooking? Kurt teaches the reader how to make certain German foods, and the Reader teaches Kurt some tricks too. Just the two bonding over cooking and praising and complimenting each other for their good jobs. I just find this to be adorable since cooking is a great way to share cultures and bond 🥧😋.' - @hulkingharbor

pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: None

a/n: Stuck with headcannons because those are easy for me to write up. I have been neglecting this blog a bit I'm so sorry. I wanted to get some stuff out before I left for my trip. Unedited.

Kurt was over the moon when you expressed interest in his German heritage. Your curiosity about his roots had always been genuine, but when the topic turned to cuisine, his excitement reached new heights. The prospect of sharing his culinary traditions with you filled him with joy.

He saw cooking and baking together as a meaningful way to connect and create lasting memories, it was one of his love languages for sure.

The kitchen became a space where cultural exchange and personal bonding intertwined. Kurt's eyes would light up as he described the myriad of German dishes he was eager to introduce you to, each recipe carrying a story or a cherished memory from his past.

From hearty sauerbraten to delicate apfelstrudel, he had an extensive repertoire of flavors he couldn't wait to explore with you.

Kurt stood beside you, his lean body adorned with a whimsical apron that seemed almost comically out of place on his athletic frame.

His nimble fingers worked the dough with practiced ease, kneading it into submission. "I am beyond thrilled to be baking with you, liebe," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "This is something I've been longing to do for quite some time now."

His golden eyes sparkled with joy as he spoke, his hands never ceasing their rhythmic motion on the precious dough. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with the task of slicing apples, the crisp sound of the knife against the cutting board.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," you chuckled affectionately, your eyes crinkling with mirth as you took in the sight of him in his frilly apron. The appearance of his muscular form and the dainty kitchen wear was too amusing to ignore.

Kurt was never one to back down from playful banter, he responded by sticking out his tongue at you in a childish gesture. His graceful tail swished mischievously behind him. You noticed that the tip of his tail had somehow managed to acquire a light dusting of flour.

Before you could react, his tail flicked swiftly in your direction, sending a small cloud of white powder flying towards you. It landed on your nose, a tiny puff of it exhaling as you snorted.

Kurt's laughter filled your ears, and you picked up some flour to combat him, his hands went up as he playfully begged you not to. "Nein! Nein, liebe! Flour and my fur do not mix!"

His pleading didn't deter you.

Flour collided with him and you both began a play fight of tossing the white ingredient at each other until you were covered in it.

Besides your little food fight, you both learned how to cook each others favorite meals. Kurt gladly taught you special recipes, and you baked delicious cookies and made warm meals to eat together.

You were surprised at how hearty his meals were, despite him being fairly lean. He blamed it on his metabolism.

Kurt loves to cook you food. Whenever you request a dish, he gets right on it and is so proud of the outcome. He always does his best and is very specific about the ingredients he uses. It has to be fresh and perfect for you.

Cooking and baking together became a cherished ritual, a delightful exploration of flavors and cultures. You take turns introducing each other to your respective backgrounds, eagerly sharing family recipes and cooking techniques passed down through generations.

The kitchen becomes a messy playground of creativity as you collaborate on fusion dishes, blending elements from both your culinary heritage.

Kurt's enthusiasm for cultural exchange is endearing, his natural curiosity and open-mindedness make him an eager student of diverse traditions and customs. He approaches each new experience with childlike wonder, whether it's trying an exotic spice or learning a traditional method of cooking. He's always ready to sample new dishes, no matter how unfamiliar.

Kurt's eyes always light up as he tastes your food. "Mein Gott, liebling! This food is absolutely wunderbar!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine awe. He affectionately nuzzles his head against yours, his tail instinctively curling around your waist to draw you closer.

The gesture of his tail is protective and intimate, a habit he formed long ago and you never broke it from him. "You must write down this recipe for me. I'd love to surprise you with it someday when you least expect it."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, your heart warming at his sincere appreciation. "Of course, I'll write it down for you," you assure him, your voice soft with affection. "But I expect detailed instructions for all your culinary masterpieces too."

Turning in his embrace, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tracing the unique patterns of his skin. "After all, I need something to tide me over when you're away on missions. Can't have me pining away with an empty stomach, can we?"

A mischievous grin spreads across Kurt's face, his golden eyes twinkling with a mixture of humor and desire. He leans in close, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks. The feather-light touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a familiar warmth in your core.

"Oh, liebling," he purrs, his accented voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "When have I ever left you wanting for anything? I always make sure you're well-satisfied in every possible way~"

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Images found on Pinterest, I did not look for the specific comic Kurt's pic is from.

[curawrites]

Healing

Hiccup x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, no happy ending

Note: rewatched Race to the Edge and got obsessed and wanted to write angst 💚

Ever since the beginning you and Hiccup had been friends, best friends.

You had done everything together, you were the weird kids, the ones that never fit in, the ones that worked the forge during the nightly dragon attacks.

Being so close together had the adults in your life asking when the wedding would be. It had always made Hiccup chuckle uncomfortably while you stood beside him bashfully with pink ears.

You had really hoped that would be your future. It was childish to think but you were only a teen who thought things would never change.

Inevitably things did change. It happened so fast, one night you and Hiccup were handling the forge together as usual and then suddenly he was training to fight dragons.

You watched him get consumed with his training and whatever he was doing in the woods. You were completely unaware of the injured nightfury your best friend was training.

You were shocked when it was revealed that Hiccup had tamed such a dragon and that he knew where the dragon nest was.

Watching him get disowned hurt, you knew how much he wanted to prove himself to his father. You wanted to go after him, to comfort him like you had always done but you couldn’t and you knew you shouldn’t when Astrid was by his side. You knew how much the boy liked her, and even though it hurt you, you let them have their moment.

You watched as Hiccup had more moments with the other teens, helping them train the dragons, bonding with them. You were glad that he was finally fitting in.

His happiness brought you joy and at that age that’s all that mattered to you even if it meant being left behind.

You hadn’t been there to watch him become a hero but when the tribe came back you felt it. All of Berk was talking about his and Toothless’s sacrifice. In that moment you felt even more admiration for the boy.

You tried to be by Hiccup’s side when he was out, but it was difficult trying to squeeze in some time when five others also wanted to see him.

You felt a shift as soon as he woke up. When he was surrounded by the residents of Berk. When Astrid gave him a kiss and his gang rejoiced over his recovery.

You knew then that he would never be the same, he was no longer you Hiccup.

As the years passed you sunk into the shadows, watching Hiccup live his best life with his friends, riding dragons, going on adventures and exploring.

You yearned to be apart of them, for Hiccup to talk to you again, and help you train a dragon and bring you into the gang. But it never happened, he was to consumed with his new life to notice who he left behind.

When he left for the edge at 18 that’s when you realized your prior friendship was never going to be rekindled. The reality hit you hard, it was jarring. It made you truly process the grief of losing your best friend.

It made your spiral into a dark place, a void of black tar that wouldn’t let you go no matter how hard you tried to claw your way out. Eventually you let the tar consume you, let yourself believe in all of the horrible things you thought about yourself.

Months were spent rotting in your hut, crying, refusing to look at yourself in a mirror, and sleeping all day.

Once the sadness faded away all you felt was rage. How could he just forget you? You had been by his side for 15 years for Thor’s sake! How dare he abandon you to be with the “cool” kids!

Your rage fuelled you to better yourself out of spite. So you began training, releasing all of the anger and hurt with every strike of your sword against your opponent’s.

You learned a lot about yourself during that period of time. You couldn’t handle an axe or a bow but you were sure damn good with a spear and swords, you learned to be resilient and strong, you gained more intellect and strategy. It rebuilt a lot of your confidence and your self esteem.

After a while you began getting bored, you had fought pretty much everyone you could on Berk and you felt caged, you didn’t like being confined to the small island anymore.

So you left. By boat. In the opposite direction Hiccup had left for the edge, and began exploring.

You knew that at some point you would need your own dragon if you wanted to continue exploring, travelling by boat was becoming very inconvenient.

An opportunity came up a couple of months into your exploration journey. A particular village had kept being pestered and ransacked by a rowdy monstrous nightmare.

So you agreed to help the village get rid of it by trying to train it. How hard could it be right? Just throw some fish at it and put your hand out and bam! Tamed dragon!

Oh how wrong you were. The process was rough to say the least, the monstrous nightmare had refused the fish and smacked you out of its sight. So you tried to gradually invade it personal space, and it worked for a few days. Until you pushed your luck and tried to rush the process, earning you a deep long gash, starting at your mid thigh up to a four inches under your arm.

The wound was gushing blood, and you were losing your consciousness fast. You thought this was the end, it was honestly humiliating. You inhaled what you thought was your last breath and closed your eyes.

Eventually you woke up to a blinding light. Was this Valhalla? As your vision cleared you recognized the inside of the village’s huts and sighed. You were glad you were alive, as you sat up you hissed in pain. You shut your eyes tightly and clutched your bandaged side as you inhaled and exhaled deeply.

Suddenly you were nudged to lay back down. You opened your eyes, expecting to see one of the villagers but you were met with the guilty face of the monstrous nightmare.

It was a very inconvenient way to train a dragon but hey you managed. Now you had a very rowdy, loving and protective, royal blue monstrous nightmare by your side.

You named her Azule and as a repayment for your stay with the village healer you have the village your boat. Not like you really needed it anymore.

With that you resumed exploring and helping villages out with dragon problems. Thankfully these went much more successfully than the first.

While you weren’t fighting dragon hunters like some people, you still made some friends and acquaintances, and more importantly you had fun.

You felt alive again. Soaring the sky’s and camping out with your new companion brought you a new kind of happiness and fulfillment.

As fun as it was eventually it was time to return to Berk. You had spent a wonderful year where you had grown and gained new experiences and knowledge. You learned to overcome hard times, how to build relationships, how to work with others, and most importantly you learned how to be content with yourself.

You had left Berk as a hurt, reckless, immature girl but you returned as a healed and mature woman.

After being gone for so long, you knew your hut needed some much needed fixing. You didn’t want your home to remind you of your dark times, you wanted a fresh slate.

You got rid of practically everything and got new furniture.You made room for Azule, giving her, her own bed and little space in your hut. You repaired what needed to be fixed after a year of neglect and added some add ons as well. Outside you added a clothes line, a hammock, a sitting area, and a feeding station for Azule.

You decorated your home with tapestries, crystals and other knickknacks you got on your adventures. You transformed your space into the ultimate comfort.

You were finally content. Even a little happy. You had moved on, and felt like you were finally on the right path.

Hiccup and his friends eventually came back from the edge.

You had lived your separate lives and you continued to, your paths never crossing again.

[l0stglitch]

Platonic Yandere Hargreeves x Reader

Notes- This is more of an introduction to an au I’ve created rather than an actual fic. It’s pretty Klaus + Ben centred at the moment but I will write about the others in future fics.

Warnings- Substance abuse, Bad parenting, Depression, Suicide

Pre season 1

• They weren’t always obsessed with you. As children, you and your siblings had relatively normal relationships. Well, if you ignored the uncomfortable flirting between One and Three, or the estrangement of Seven.

• It wasn’t until Five’s disappearance that the family dynamics started shifting.

• The unity from before had been fractured, and the fragile illusion of a family gone.

• From there, things only worsened.

• You had always been closest to Klaus. It was only natural- you both found joy in bending the rules, and your powers proved to be quite useful when the two of you were up to no good.

• You could see the future. Unfortunately, not on demand. You could see your opponent’s next moves in a fight, or your father coming upstairs and catching you and Klaus in his study minutes before he appeared, but large-scale events far into the future were much more complicated.

• You’d see the distant future in dreams. Cryptic visions that made little sense until the morbid events finally happened. You had woken up screaming many times, forced to watch your siblings suffer gruesome injuries in missions yet to happen.

• Sometimes your father would make you meditate. Sit for hours at a time trying to trigger another vision. Occasionally it worked. Most of the time though, you saw nothing.

• The others had never blamed you for not stopping Five. You hadn’t seen the jump until he stood up and announced his decision. By then it was too late to stop him. Your brother had always been stubborn- you knew you didn’t stand a chance at changing his mind.

• You and Klaus grew closer after that- your childish rule breaking became more reckless. Nights were spent sneaking out and stealing. Getting high and drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol became a shameful hobby of yours.

• Everyone knew, but they were all too caught up in their own grief to worry about what the two of you were doing.

• Things seemed to be slowly improving, until tragedy struck again in 2006.

• This time though, things were different. Ben’s death was raw and painful, not just for him, but for everyone involved. Five may have chosen to disappear, but Six certainly didn’t choose to die.

• You had dreamt of that strange girl for months before the mission, but never told your siblings about her. Perhaps if you had seen Ben being killed moments after you would have said something, but that vision only came after he opened the container. Yet again, you were too late.

• The funeral was cold. Usually you would’ve loved the snow, but seeing it today filled you with an icy bitterness. It was as if the sky itself was mocking you, tainting your favourite weather with the devastating reality of your brother’s death.

• Reginald had placed the blame on all of you, but you knew your siblings didn’t see it that way. Luther, Diego and Allison developed a frosty attitude towards you, and Viktor… well he’d never really spoken to you much anyways.

• Only Klaus stayed with you through it all. Well, and Ben apparently. You couldn’t see your deceased brother, but Klaus supposedly could. Unfortunately, as the two of you fell deeper into your drug use, it became harder to tell whether he was talking to Ben or just hallucinating.

• Either way, he never told any of the others he could speak to Ben’s ghost, so neither did you.

• The two of you became inseparable. You decided you didn’t need the others anymore. Luther, Diego and Allison still took their roles as superheroes with grave seriousness, clinging onto that one constant in their ruined lives.

• You had come to the conclusion that you were no use to the team, despite Klaus’s best efforts to convince you otherwise. The visions never stopped, much to your dismay, and you didn’t know what you could do to alter the future. After all, what was the point in knowing what will happen if there was nothing you could do to stop it?

• Every night you dreamt the same thing. A funeral. Not snowy, like Ben’s, but instead with a dreary overcast sky and a blanket of wet, coppery leaves scattered across the ground.

• Five teenagers standing around a grave, their identities masked by the sleek curve of their black umbrellas.

• If only you could see the number carved into the gravestone.

• You woke up in a cold sweat without fail every morning. Klaus didn’t mind you coming into his room at 2am looking for comfort. He’d shift over in his bed to make space for you, bearing a patient smile despite the sleep that still nestled fresh in the corner of his eyes.

• You never told him what you saw, so he never asked.

• As weeks turned into months, your mental health only began deteriorating more and more.

• You hit your breaking point one afternoon during a heated encounter with Luther. He’d made a snide comment about your powers, vaguely alluding to you being the reason Ben had died.

• Your day had already been hard enough, so having to deal with shit from Luther sent you over the edge.

• It wasn’t like you to start a fight. You and Klaus tended to stay pretty neutral whenever an argument sprung up between the others. Perhaps that was why it came as such a shock to everyone when you punched your brother in the face with enough force to send shockwaves of pain through your knuckles.

• Luther only needed seconds to recover before retaliating.

• You managed to dodge his first few punches, using your powers to predict his moves. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough to avoid them all, and after being met with a fist to your stomach, it suddenly because all too easy for your brother to strike you.

• You could do nothing but feebly cry out for help as he released his anger out on you. In a sickening way it felt right- like this was supposed to happen.

• Luther deserved to release his buried grief, and you deserved to receive it. At least, that’s what you told yourself after as you lay silently on your bed, staring up at ceiling through the fuzzy darkness of the night.

• The others noticed how quiet you became. You hardly ate at mealtimes, and spent all your free time alone in your room, ignoring Klaus’s pleas for you to open up to him.

• Pogo and Grace could only watch as you retreated further and further into yourself, until you stopped joining missions altogether.

• Of course, Reginald was less than pleased by this. He sternly told you how much of a failure you were, but other than that, there was little else he could do.

• Yes, they could’ve forcefully dragged you along with them, but even then, there was no way of making you fight. If anything, you’d just be putting yourself and your siblings at risk.

• So they simply decided to watch passively as you withered away from the inside out, becoming a hollow shell of a person.

• Ironically, it wasn’t until you died that things eventually began to improve.

• Klaus found you in the bathroom at exactly 02:56 on a Tuesday morning. The half empty bottle of pills that rested in the palm of your cold hand told him all he needed to know.

• You had killed yourself- or at least tried to. He could still feel the soft beating of your heart under the frail skin of your neck.

• Klaus held you with an almost childish desperation, his screams for help piercing through the grave silence of the night.

• It was only seconds later that the rest of your siblings came scrambling into the bathroom.

• Diego was the first to act- shoving his way over to Klaus and pulling your delicate frame out of his brother’s trembling grip. The others watched in horrified silence as he began to perform CPR.

• Time seemed to slow down as they waited for Reginald to come. Alison had ran to wake him after seeing your condition, so now all they could do was wait. The only sounds that could be heard were Diego’s laboured breathing and Klaus’s chocked sobs.

• After what felt like hours, your father finally came to the bathroom. He said nothing to anyone, silently scooping you up and carrying you down the dark hallway.

• That was the last time they saw you.

• Two days later your father announced your death to the rest of your siblings, and a funeral was held.

• It was a rainy day towards the end of November- just as you had predicted. All five of your remaining siblings stood around your grave; protected from the rain by their glossy, black umbrellas.

• Life continued on at the umbrella academy. Your suicide marked the last of the tragedies, although no one ever truly recovered from the harrowing losses.

• It was only a matter of time until the academy officially disbanded. Despite your and Ben’s best efforts, Klaus’s dependence on drugs only worsened as he aged. It was hard watching your best friend struggle through life, ignoring your pleas for him to try and get some help.

• Becoming a ghost seemed to have some strange side effects. The first was the biting cold that came from within. No matter how warm the environment was around you, you could never warm yourself up. The second was even more perplexing. You didn’t age. You would’ve chalked it up to being a result of your death being when you were 16, but Ben wasn’t stuck as a teenager. He also wasn’t constantly shivering from the cold.

• Klaus jokingly suggested that it was because you were ‘young at heart’. You couldn’t disagree more. After Five’s disappearance, it felt as though all of your childish innocence had been stripped away from you. Not to say you weren’t content with your existence as a ghost, but sometimes you missed being able to interact with the world around you.

• Ben made it all bearable. He was your only source of human contact, so you found yourself becoming clingier than before. Physical touch had never really been your thing, but now it was all you thought about. Ben didn’t mind the constant affection you showed, as he was just as touch-starved as you were.

• The years went on, and the three of you trudged through Klaus’s messy life together.

• No matter how many times you begged him to reach out to the rest of the family, your brother never listened. It was as if being dead made you less credible in his eyes. Klaus didn’t want your advice, he just wanted your presence.

• You saw the others once, when Allison married Patrick. It was bittersweet seeing them as adults for the first time and wondering how different things could have been if you just hadn’t taken those fucking pills.

• The wedding was over far too soon. You had hoped that seeing each other again would bring the family closer, but it quickly became clear that none of them had any interest in entering back into each others lives.

• So you had to watch as Allison returned to her glamorous life as a celebrity whilst Klaus dragged you and Ben back to his grimy, drug filled motel room.

• You resented him for never trying to sort out his life, but there wasn’t anything you could say to him. Any mention of his wasted potential and Klaus was quick to remind you of how you had killed yourself. He didn’t mean to upset you, but it still stung. It stung far worse than the punches Luther had thrown at you after Ben died.

• It wasn’t until the shocking news of Reginald’s death that you could see them all again.

• Klaus was less than impressed by the thought of having to return to the mansion. It took a lot of convincing from you and Ben before he finally agreed to attend the funeral- even if only to shut you both up.

• After a particularly long taxi ride, the three of you finally reached your destination.

• Save for Viktor, you were the last to arrive. Klaus claimed it was his intention to be ‘fashionably late’, but you knew he wasn’t going to be fooling anyone.

• You found yourself in Reginald’s study, watching Klaus as he rummaged through your father’s possessions. Ben tried convincing him to just leave it, but his protests fell on deaf ears.

• “You just gotta loosen up a bit Benny-boo,” He’d replied breezily, “Me and Y/n used to pull all kinds of stunts like this when we were kids! You were always a good lookout, with your mind tricks and all that.” He’d added, motioning to where you were leant up against the wall, watching quietly.

• Ben just rolled his eyes playfully before shooting you a small smile, “Those were the good old days huh?”

• Klaus snorted, “What are you talking about? We’re still in the good old days. Us three- we’re like the three musketeers!”

• You just shrugged indifferently, “Yeah- if two of the musketeers were dead.”

• “God, what’s got you in such a sour mood? You’d think we were at a funeral or something- oh wait, we are!” He cracked up laughing, as if that was the funniest joke in the world. Perhaps it was to him- he was high as fuck.

• When Allison finally got round to checking Reginald’s study, you made no effort to warn Klaus as she crept up on him. As far as you were concerned, you owed your brother absolutely nothing. He was still refusing to tell the others of your and Ben’s presence, so it was safe to say you were more than a little pissed off at him.

• Watching him nearly jump out of his skin brought a small smile to your face, but it soon disappeared when the topic of conversation shifted to rehab. As per usual, your brother shamelessly lied about everything that had been going on and made no mention of you and Ben.

• The meeting with Allison was short lived, as Luther soon entered and ordered Klaus to leave. Of course, with Klaus being Klaus, he managed to steal a fancy looking box on the way out.

• “Do you even know what’s in that thing?” You huffed, traipsing behind him. Your brother brought the object up to his lips and gave it a theatrical kiss, “Nope!” He replied, popping the ‘P’ in an almost childish manner.

• You frowned, “So why bother stealing it? Surely you’ll get a decent amount of money from dad’s inheritance.”

• “Oh come on! Don’t start feeling sorry for that old man. He was a rotten piece of shit- we deserve this for all the pain he put us through.” Klaus almost sounded annoyed, as if he was offended by your consideration of Reginald.

• It surprised you a little how much your comment seemed to have ruffled him. “I hate him as much as you do. All I’m saying is that this stupid box might not even be worth the time- ‘specially if you’re just gonna blow all the cash on drugs again.”

• Klaus sighed dramatically, feigning upset, “Oh my dear number eight, I am offended that you would suggest that I would do something like that. Especially after what I told Allison!”

• You smiled in amusement, “Y’know, you could try and start afresh after this. Start renting out a cheap apartment. Live off dad’s money for a while whilst you look for a job- a real job. You don’t need to steal all his crap.”

•Klaus merely shrugged, “I could, but where’s the fun in that? And besides, I know if you were alive going through all the same shit as me you’d be the same.”

• You sighed, he had a good point. The two of you were birds of a feather. There was no doubt that if you hadn’t died, you would’ve ended up the same, if not worse than your brother.

• Ben cleared his throat, “We haven’t seen Diego or Viktor in years, why don’t we go talk to them instead of standing here arguing about Klaus’s kleptomania.”

• Klaus smiled, “Kleptomania, huh? That’s a big word.” You rolled your eyes, “Just ’cause you’re feeling antisocial, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to see our siblings.”

• Your brother turned around to face you and spread out his arms, as if offering you something, “By all means, go ahead and find them. Who am I to stop you?”

• You glared at him in silence until he finally cracked, “Alright, fine!” He groaned in exasperation, “Which one of our dear siblings did you want to speak to first?”

• The three of you ended up going to find Diego. You’d gained a soft spot for him after finding out he had been the first to try and resuscitate you the night you had died.

• The conversation between your two brothers was painful to watch. Klaus mostly ignored you and Ben, preferring to ramble about random shit that Diego clearly didn’t care about. You wanted to strangle him.

• Eventually (much to everyone’s relief) Allison came in to inform Diego and Klaus of the meeting going on in the living area. You couldn’t help but notice the way her brows seemed slightly furrowed, as if something was worrying her.

• Apart from Klaus, everyone was seated around the oak coffee table. You and Ben left him to pour himself a drink at the bar whilst Luther began the meeting. You found it slightly difficult to concentrate with the sound of glass clinking behind you, but thankfully Klaus quickly joined you, flippantly asking about refreshments. He shot you a grin as he spoke, clearly trying to lighten your mood.

• Luther looked puzzled, “What? No, there won’t be refreshments. And put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.”

• Klaus ignored him and sat down on the couch next to Viktor. “Well the big guy’s still pretty uptight huh,” He commented, glancing over at the empty space you were occupying.

• Luther huffed, “Listen up. There’s still some important things we need to discuss, all right?”

• You frowned, not having a single clue as to what this meeting was about. Luckily Diego was wondering the same thing. “Like what?”

• Luther turned to him, “Like the way he died.”

• “I don’t understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Viktor returned. You had almost forgotten he was there beside Klaus, remaining silent up until that point.

• “Yeah- according to the coroner.”

• “Well wouldn’t they know?”

• “Theoretically…” You audibly groaned at that, earning confused glances from Ben and Klaus.

• “He’s making this way more complicated than it needs to be.” You grumbled, “Klaus, please for the love of god tell Luther to stop turning everything into such a big deal.” Your brother shook his head as a clear ‘no’ before taking a pull from his cigarette.

• “Last time I spoke to dad he sounded strange.”

• Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who thought Luther was grasping at straws. Diego was quick to interject.

• “Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles.”

• Luther immediately shook his head, “No, he must have known something was going to happen. He’s been hiding something from us.”

• “That’s not exactly breaking news,” Diego interrupted with a not-so-subtle eye roll.

• You could tell Luther was getting irritated by this point. It put you on edge. Conflict always made you nervous, especially when Luther was involved. “Me and Allison found blueprints for a human sized freezer underneath the basement. We tried taking the elevator down but that level needs a key to access.”

• Klaus suddenly perked up, “I don’t know if this is related, but I did find a key in dad’s desk earlier.” He shrugged, “Didn’t look all that important though so I didn’t say anything.”

• You frowned, he hadn’t told you or Ben.

• From the other side of the table, Allison took a step closer. “Klaus, we need that key. There might be something inside that freezer.”

• Your brother nodded, fishing around in his pockets, “Yeah, yeah of course. Just give me a second..” He yanked his hand out, brandishing a remarkably ordinary looking key. “Ah ha! There it is. You think this is the right one?” Luther took the key from him and studied it for a moment, “Well there’s only one way to find out.”

• Within mere seconds, all of your siblings had deserted their positions in the living room and were making their way to the elevator.

• It was a little cramped inside, even with you and Ben not taking up any space. You found that your spirit was half phasing through some of your siblings, as they left no gaps big enough for you occupy.

• Luther was the one to put the key into the hole, slowly twisting as the others watched in anticipation. A light in the keypad flashed green, before the whole box shuddered and began slowly descending.

• It took a while for you to reach the level, and with no one speaking, the seconds seemed to drag on even longer. When the elevator doors finally slid open, no one moved.

• The space before you seemed to be a corridor, stretching ahead before ending with a heavy looking iron door. Diego was first to step out, leading the others to the end of the space. He rested a hand on the handle and turned around for confirmation.

• “Are you sure we wanna know what’s in there?” He murmured, suddenly feeling apprehensive about entering.

• “It’s too late to turn back now. We need to know what’s in that room, Diego,” Allison replied firmly, taking a step closer. He nodded with a sigh and pushed open the door. You hesitated, allowing your siblings to enter before you.

• In the centre of the room there was a large, grey cylinder next to a table holding a computer. Diego peered down at it, “I’m guessing this controls it.”

• Viktor ran a hand along the side, “Guys, there’s a button here. I think it might unlock the machine.”

• Ben’s hand came down to rest on your shoulder, making you flinch at the unexpected contact. “You ok? You haven’t said much,” He asked, voice laced with concern. You just shrugged and replied, “There’s nothing for me to say that hasn’t already been said by someone else.”

• “You think we’ll find a body in there?” He asked quietly. You laughed dryly, “What, you think Reginald killed someone and hid their body in a fancy freezer?” Ben didn’t share your amusement, “It’s clearly some kind of cryogenic freezer. What else would he have been using it for?”

• “I guess we’re about to find out.” You replied, watching as Luther helped Viktor open the heavy metal door.

• Icy cold steam came gushing out, momentarily concealing the shape that lay within. You took a cautious step closer, trying to get a clearer view of it. There was definitely some kind of body in there- and a small one at that.

• You turned to Ben, “Holy shit. If that’s some dead kid I might puke.” Your brother rolled his eyes in turn, and opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

• “Y/n?” Your head whipped around at the sound of your name. It had been years since you had heard anyone other than Ben or Klaus mention you, so hearing Viktor’s voice caught you off guard.

• He wasn’t looking at you though. You followed the direction of Viktor’s gaze down to the freezer and inhaled sharply at the sight. It was you. The same child who had died in 2006, lying there perfectly preserved. Your skin was unusually pale- almost dull, but not entirely corpse-like.

• Diego cautiously put his hand on your shoulder, and you noticed a faint warmth in the same spot on your spirit. “Is she alive?”

• Klaus took a protective step closer to your body and shook his head. “No guys, she’s dead. She-” He hesitated, locking eyes with you before turning back to Diego, “I know she’s dead, alright. If she were alive, she wouldn’t still look sixteen. Diego ignored him and ran his hand across your shoulder and over to your pulse point. A violent shiver racked through you, earning a questioning glance from Ben. “Are you ok?” He murmured, rubbing your back.

• “I- I can feel him touching my physical body.” You watched as Diego stopped moving and held two fingers in place. The whole room fell silent as everyone waited in anticipation to hear what he had to say.

• “She’s alive.”

• Klaus locked eyes with you, “That’s not possible. I’ve spoken to her ghost, that can’t be-”

• Allison cut him off, “What do you mean you’ve spoken to her?” Her voice was sharp and accusatory.

• “I can speak to ghosts Allison!” Klaus replied in exasperation, “That includes our sister.” From beside him, Luther frowned. “Wait. You’ve been in contact with Y/n this whole time and haven’t bothered to say anything?”

• Diego sighed in frustration, “Will you guys stop arguing for five fucking minutes. We need to try and wake her up.” You stiffened slightly, suddenly hit by a surge of apprehension. Were you even ready to wake up? It had been years since you’d actually spoken to your siblings. Memories of their past cruelty after Ben’s death came flooding back to you.

• “Hey, you’ll be ok. Klaus will look after you.” You looked up and saw Ben offering you a reassuring smile. Before you could open your mouth to reply, a wave of disorientation hit, and in an instant the world around you was black.

• For a moment everything was quiet, save for a faint ringing in your ears. Your body felt heavier than before, and cold too. Though this sensation was different to the faint chill you had grown accustomed to. This was more of a biting frost that gnawed at your extremities.

• With great effort, you forced your eyes open. It took a moment for you to adjust to the fluorescent lighting over your head, but soon the faces of your siblings

• You suddenly became aware of a hand touching your cheek. Following the arm it belonged to, you realised it was Klaus. His dark eyes stared down intensely into yours, as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

• “How are you not dead?”

• Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. Memories of old books Reginald had made you read came to the forefront of your mind, but your throat was too sore to produce any intelligible words. He had made you study astral projection a long time ago, but you hadn’t given the topic much thought since. Perhaps your father knew more about your powers than he was letting on.

• Allison’s face drifted into your view, distracting you from your thoughts. She shot Klaus a stern look before looking back down at you, “We can worry about that later. For now let’s get you warmed up.”

• Your sister pulled you out from the freezer and held your shivering form close. Klaus noticed your chattering teeth and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

• Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Luther shift, “So… should we still go ahead with the funeral?” Your siblings exchanged hesitant glances, unsure of how to proceed, when you were suddenly hit with a vision. It was only a brief flash of something. A storm, a glowing blue light, and then finally, a face you never thought you’d see again.

• The moment had been so brief that none of your siblings realised anything had happened. It was Klaus who recognised that familiar haunted expression on your face, pulling you away from Allison and holding onto your shoulders with a concerned frown. “What did you see?”

• You just shook your head slowly, “It’s not possible.”

• Klaus gently squeezed your shoulders, “You know I’ll always believe you, Y/n. I’ll have your back no matter what.” His brown eyes stared deeply into yours, with a level of intensity that you rarely saw in him anymore. “Just tell me what you saw.”

• They wouldn’t believe you- hell, you hardly believed it yourself. Yet there was no denying what you had seen. What was going to happen. You took a deep breath and turned to face the rest of your siblings, whose sole attention was on you.

• “We need to go outside. Five is coming back.”

This took wayyy longer to write than I thought it would. This is an introduction to an au idea I’ve had in my head for a long time, hence why it’s pretty disjointed.

Also I know none of the characters exhibit much ‘yandere behaviour’ in this. I will build up to it in future works (which will include Five!!) 🙏

[lidiasloca]

Hii how are you? I like your blog<33 Can I make a request about George Weasley? The reader is a Slytherin. There is a romantic attraction between George and the reader; they may even become lovers. One day, while the two are talking, George asks her why the Sorting Hat thought about her for so long in the past. The other house the Sorting Hat had in mind for her was Gryffindor. She has always kept it a secret because of her family, but finally decides to tell George about it.~

george's slytherin girl

george weasley x you

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“Just tell me,” George urged for the fifth time that afternoon. It didn’t help that he was hugging you around the waist as you lay on the sofa, his sweet caresses further coercing you.

“No,” you laughed, feeling helpless against his curiosity. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Ugh,” he groaned in feigned frustration. “That just makes me want to know even more.” He squeezed your waist, making you giggle. “Tell me why the Sorting Hat took so long with you.”

You pressed your lips together, pondering whether to finally give in and confess. It had all happened such a long time ago—yet George still remembered that ridiculous Sorting Hat perched on your head. Maybe you could tell him after all.

“Alright,” you mumbled, feeling defeated.

He let out a childish giggle of pure joy, clapping his hands together like an overexcited child—although he was far from it.

“Well, do you remember we had already seen each other before the Sorting?” You waited for him to nod. “And do you recall how I went red immediately? How I tried to hide from you?”

“I didn’t think you were trying to hide from me. Was I that hideous?” he asked, grinning like a fool.

You pointedly ignored him. “Well, I was very timid back then. Very.” You took a breath. “And I kind of liked you—very much.”

His grin morphed into a cocky smirk. “Did you, now?”

“Oh, shut up.” He pretended to zip his lips. “And then it was the ceremony. You got sorted into Gryffindor, and when the Sorting Hat was on my head, I prayed it wouldn’t put me in the same house as you. I knew I’d live with the constant fear and hope of finding you around every corner. So, I begged. The Sorting Hat’s first guess was to put me in Gryffindor, but after hearing my prayer, it kindly placed me in Slytherin.”

You feared you had rushed through the story when you saw the surprised look on George’s face.

“Say something,” you said, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice.

“Sweetheart…” he breathed.

“What?” you asked, nerves bubbling up inside you.

Then he burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed at your serious face. At last, catching his breath, he said, “You are so adorable, Y/N. You got into Slytherin because you had a crush on me���shouldn’t that be in Hogwarts history books?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, really. It’s actually a pity we aren’t in the same house.”

“No, it’s not. I couldn’t have borne more than a few minutes in your presence.”

“Liar,” he replied lovingly, still sporting that smirk.

“Besides,” you continued, “I love Slytherin.”

“Alright, that’s true. But still, if you were in Gryffindor, we wouldn’t have to fight anyone who finds us in the common room,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s exactly why I know I’m perfectly suited for Slytherin. I love a good quarrel.” He chuckled at the sight of your mischievous smirk. 

“My Slytherin girl.”

-Characters by J K Rowling

a/n: maybe not the sort of mistery fic you asked for, anon. hope you enjoyed it nonethelss. i really liked the idea 💞

[uranometrias]

hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

I was incredibly lucky enough to get to visit London and see Next to Normal twice in the short time I was there (and meet Jack Wolfe at the stage door!) But lots of fans might not have the same opportunity, so I wanted to share some details about the production and the changes/additions made to the performance since the Donmar production because I remember eagerly reading as many details as possible once upon a time.

Obviously, spoilers ahead for acting choices and stage directions. (Personally, I love spoilers and knowing what to look for in a production, but if you have the chance to see the show and want to be surprised, this is a good place to stop reading.

First off, Diana is shown as waaaaaay more crazy. Her behavior is far more erratic and there's never a moment when you think she's lucid and in control. Personally, I liked this change because I felt like in the Donmar production she was too... normal? She didn't quite behave as the person who broke down in the market, set the house on fire, crashed the car, and jumped in the swimming pool. Here, I completely believe she did all those things. Diana is hypersexual, ripping her top off as she runs past Natalie in the beginning to go have sex with Dan. She plants a kiss on Henry, to Natalie's utter horror, the first time she meets him. (Dan does not react to this, haha, he's used to it.) All of Diana's interactions with with therapists have an undercurrent of overly flirty, sexual dialog. Obviously, this is one sided and unreciprocated from the therapists. At one point she tells the therapist that she's flattered, but her husband is waiting in the car and it's impossible to see it as anything other than super sexual. (She's kinda into it though...) Diana lays curled on the floor more often clutching her head. You never doubt that she is manic.

Let's talk about Gabe.

Jack Wolfe rewrote the role of Gabe, there's no denying that. Instead of the menacing looming ghost, all American jock ghost, Jack plays him as a soft boy. The ultimate soft boy. And I didn't know it was possible, but he ramped that energy up 100% in this production. Jesus christ, he couldn't have been any more adorable if he stood on stage batting his eyelashes. Not only is Gabe played as a soft boy, he's particularly played as being very child-like. It's quite the duality. He has the body and mentality of a supposed 18 year old. He makes a joke about not taking coke "right now," and taunts his father with the location of the car keys at the beginning of the show. Later he reminds his mother that young people in love are horny.

Yet, Gabe's emotional responses, reactions to those around him are extremely childish. It really struck me how similar his expressions of joy, fear, and anger were to my toddler. Eerily similar. In a new addition, his face lights up with uncontrolled joy, giggling when he sees the music box. (His music box.) Gabe jumps to sit on the counter, and hugs it to his chest as he and Diana listen to the music.

There are moments when he is hurt by watching his parents fight and looks absolutely wounded. Like, shoulder hunched, chin tucked in looking down completely betrayed. Another new addition to this production includes Gabe turning his head away and closing his eyes as his mother flushes her pills down the drain. He does not want to see her do it. The dialog is a little at odds with this action because he still tells Diana that he thinks she's being very brave even though he visibly disagrees with her choice.

Gabe recoils in fear during the "chair moment" in a way you wouldn't expect from a young man. When Gabe and Dan crowd Diana during "I Am the One" she lashes out and grabs the chair, swinging it around, forcing them both away from her. Gabe jumps backward in surprise. But this time he also runs behind the counter, visibly terrified that his mother's anger is directed at him. He ducks as she swings the chair, unlike Dan, who is still on the same side of the counter as her and backs out of the way but continues singing and engaging with her, unlike Gabe who does it from a safe distance.

And when Diana's memories of Gabe, and Gabe himself returns after shock therapy, he unleashes the "I'm Alive Reprise" with what I can only describe as the same chaotic gleeful energy my toddler has when my kid starts evil cackling. It's a loud, full body laugh of delight that no one else takes any amusement in that, but that does not stop the child from enjoying it. It's a wild moment in the production. Gabe literally rolls around on top of the counter in delight at being unleashed.

Gabe is also more physically affectionate toward Diana. He hugs her several times and kisses her head. If he gets the opportunity to touch her, he will. In one poignant moment, Dr. Madden convinces Diana to look at Gabe's baby items and start letting go. Gabe tries to get her attention by attempting to hold her hand in order make her talk to him, and instead of taking it, she walks away and leaves him reaching toward her. He is devastated. In the Donmar production Diana and Gabe sat against the counter and leaned on one another. In this production that moment was substituted for Gabe kneeling on the floor and Diana lying on the floor and putting her head in Gabe's lap. He strokes her hair and reassures her.

Instead of seeming jealous or spiteful toward Natalie, Gabe seems enraptured with her. No sibling rivalry here. He tries, unsuccessfully, to get her attention several times and even places his hand over hers on the counter in a moment of comfort, not that she notices. In this production Gabe does not put Diana's purse or bag of pills in front of his sister, starting her addiction. She finds them herself.

This production solved one of the problems I originally had with "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" in the Donmar production. In the original original New York run Gabe was played by Aaron Tveit as the very jock, athletic all American boy, which is in strict contrast to Natalie, the dorky anxious sister. At the end of the song Gabe joins Natalie singing, "she's not there," until his voice overpowers her and takes over the song as a vocal reminder that he's the favored child. Obviously, the Donmar production didn't do this because Gabe changed to soft boy energy. So Gabe joining the end of the song, singing at Natalie made less sense that the two are no longer in competition. THIS PRODUCTION instead had both Gabe and Natalie singing the end of "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" to Diana, which was completely brilliant. Diana curls up on the floor clutching her head as both turn their attention toward her. Natalie stands at the top of the stairs and Gabe stands on the counter, both looming over Diana on the floor (asking her why she is not present in their lives and almost accusing her for casting them in the roles of Super Boy and Invisible Girl.)

Gabe is also present in more moments than the original Donmar production. He lurks in the background of several more scenes that did not feature him at the Donmar. This is an excellent choice. He joins Diana during her therapy session when she is hypnotized. Diana makes the joke about turning the light on at the bottom of the stairs to Gabe, both of them being playful and sharing teasing glances because they doubt the success of the hypnosis. (Jokes on Gabe) As Diana falls further into hypnosis, Gabe becomes less visible on stage until he's completely eclipsed behind Dr. Madden and cannot be seen at all even though he's still on stage standing behind the doctor. Gabe tails Diana through the house like a sad puppy afterward when she goes upstairs and retrieves the "baby box."

Gabe did not "try" to make his mother commit suicide. He grabbed his backpack and a dufflebag and started to walk out the door until Diana sang, "I'd die to dance with you." She had already made up her mind to die before Gabe turns around and begins to sing "There's a World." He seemed to help her after she already made her choice. It was less coaxing her into suicide and more guiding her through it, reassuring her of the what came at the end and how he would be there with her.

Gabe watches while Dan cleans up Diana's suicide attempt. He shows up just in time for Dan to sing the lyric, "And there's no one around," disproving Dan's claim that he's all alone. Now, looking this up, it seems like Gabe is supposed to be in this scene, but I have NO MEMORY of Gabe at this part in the original Donmar production. That could just be my faulty memory though. This scene really strengthens their confrontation later in "I Am the One Reprise." I also have no memory of the "sonogram scene" at the Donmar though I distinctly remember reading about it and was actively watching for the moment when Gabe stood on the upper floor and the curtain dropped, casting him in silhouette reminiscent to a sonogram while Diana listens to the music box. So maybe I'm just not remembering correctly? Still, this scene was also excellent and haunting as Gabe hummed the music box melody. The humming was beautiful and it broke me.

At one point in this production, Gabe almost touches his father, but pulls away first. Gabe, desperate to be acknowledged, stands in front of Dan, who reaches forward to touch Diana. Gabe quickly retreats in fear, and throws himself out of the way to avoid touching his father.

I'm not particularly sure anything changed during "I Am the One Reprise," but it's my favorite scene of the entire show, so I'm gonna talk about it. Because hot damn. Before this moment Diana talks to Natalie and sings "Maybe" While they talk Dan and Gabe are sitting against opposite side of the counter. (Dan in the front on the far left hands clutching his head, Gabe behind the counter on the far right curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees, forehead on his knees) When Diana finally tells Natalie (and the audience) how her older brother died, Gabe perks up at the mention of his name. He slowly unfolds, sits up, and listens as if it is the first time he's heard it too. Then Diana sings "So Anyway," and leaves. Both men watch her go. (To my utter amusement, Gabe turns into a prairie dog standing up on his knees -- again, reminding me of my toddler who does the same thing in order to sit up and see better -- as Diana leaves.)

Dan stands and starts singing "I Am the One Reprise" to Diana. But Gabe stands and starts singing the reprise to Dan. Then he gets to, "I know you told her that I'm not worth a damn, But I know you know who I am." And then the music cue drops.

It's so powerful.

For the first time Gabe looks angry. Confrontational. He demands to be recognized by his father while Dan denies his presence and begs him to go away. In a stunning leap of athleticism, Gabe jumps on the counter and grabs Dan from the back. It's almost violent. Dan struggles but Gabe refuses to let go until Dan spins around they lock onto each other's forearms and sing the same verse. It's so emotionally charged. Both actors are cry and yell at each other as they sing.

Then Dan starts to pull away and Gabe desperately reaches out trying to hold him again, but unable to from his position on the counter. He continues to reach out despite Dan growing farther away. it's heartbreaking. Dan finally says Gabe's name and recognizes him. It's all Gabe has wanted from his father the entire show. Gabe is so happy in this moment. They look like they are going to continue talking, but Natalie comes in and asks her father, "It's just us?" Now, I remember the line being "It's just the two of us?" at the Donmar, but it's been a hot minute, so I could be wrong (again). But I like, "It's just the two of us?" better because it forces Dan to deny Gabe once again. Dan deliberately looks over at Gabe on the counter before agreeing with Natalie. And Gabe just... gives up. He got the 10 seconds of acknowledgement he wanted from his father. Dan said his name and Gabe's content with that much even though Dan denies him once again in front of Natalie.

Gabe slowly gets off the counter, touches Natalie's hand, though she's unaware, and walks upstairs like a sad little ascending angel who watches over his remaining family.

Other thoughts:

I may not have talked nearly as much about the rest of the cast, but they were all perfect. I loved everyone's voice. Dan was sooooo sympathetic and I love him more and more each time I see the show. Natalie's voice is gorgeous. Stunning. Diana is an unreliable narrator and I think the audience often forgets that.

There are so many props in this set, it must be a nightmare to restock for each show. The food Diana throws around making sandwiches is real, as is the disastrous dinner. (During Diana and Dan's argument they clean up and Diana just throws the dishware into the trash, not just the food, the pan and bowl too and it feels so in character.) Everything else just gets shoved into the sink, haha. The sink does have running water. The birthday cake seems like a prop though and Diana did her best to keep the candles lit while she raced around the stage looking for her dead son. From the balcony on my first viewing I had a really good view of the baby box and saw the exact moment the "blood" began to leak from it. It happened very quickly before the stage turned around, which made me think the it was remote controlled and not set on a release timer (though it probably could be. Every movement from everyone on stage is extremely coordinated even though they are not dancing.) Sitting closer to the stage, the box seemed to leak from all four corners -- I'm just a weirdo who likes knowing these production details.

The cast popping out of the fridge was way funnier during "Psychopharmacologist and I" because they opened the fridge was used it as an ordinary fridge during the opening song. So it was totally unexpected.

Only one person audibly reacted in the audience to Gabe's death reveal between the two shows I saw. Lol. Everyone else went in knowing.

Jesus christ, I have no idea how the actors wore long sleeves and pants on stage. I sat four rows back on the second viewing and I WAS HOT from the stage lights and I wasn't running around the stage like they were. They definitely were visibly sweating.

A friend pointed out that the cast were using American accents, which I didn't realize. For the most part they sounded fine, especially compared to the interviews where the cast use in their natural accents. The most shocking difference was Natalie's actress -- she had the best American accent compared to her strong irl accent. Dan's actor too! Both Jacks couldn't quite cover up their soft vowels so my American ear didn't realize they were using an American accent when I heard their natural ones so clearly.

There were several stage mishaps the second time I saw the production. The curtain that goes up and down on the upper levels of the stage knocked over the "I'm Alive" microphone stand when it when down, knocking the mic off. The mic popped off and bounced down the stairs and rolled off the back of the stage where production presumably grabbed it. The actors picked up the mic stand and put the mic back on it in the next scene. The same microphone stand fell down again when Gabe turned around and his red backpack knocked it over. He picked it up very quickly.

During my "Psychopharmacologist and I" one of Dan's pill bottles, being used as a shaker, exploded. The actor froze for a second, then kept going as the "pills" scattered across the stage. He just put his empty hand in the pocket of the medical coat and continued. When the song ended, a production manager came out, apologized, and said the stage needed to be reset. All the actors left as the stage was swept. The audience looked at their phones for 5 minutes and then the production started again.

Next to Normal was such a joy to see. Like, yes, I saw it because of Jack Wolfe and he was absolutely a highlight of it. But I was never bored without him on stage. Though I did think "So Anyway" was a bit too long, but that's my personal opinion and the effect of jet lag may have influenced that thought. All of the cast and their voices were incredibly talented and I'm glad to be familiar with the show now.

This is long enough, but if you have any questions about the production, please ask! I am happy to answer questions to help those who might be able to see it in person visualize what happened on stage.

[marymary-diva17]

Ok so

We know the typical reader being hated by the sullys, and in this request she's neteyam's twin sister but looks sky people or whatever, Jake cares more about her siblings more than her and neytiri is basically blind to all the hate reader gets from the clan and neglect from her dad and siblings, and her dad making go on missions even though she's scared of sky people, buuuuttt.......plot twist, reader gets tired do she trains in the forest alone, spying on sky people way of fighting to play fire with fire, she becomes buff and tall with scars since she decided to live in the middle of the forest in the most forbidden place of it, where no na'vi survived except her apparently, and because of that she deals and hunts bigger, stronger and faster predators than the normal ones, and sooo, she has better reflex and hates the family except neytiri cause she's her mama and tuk because she's too young to comprehend what's going on. She does visit spider once in a while but never reveals where she lives, appearing as an unknown warrior only when the raids are happening and then disappearing in the shadows, hell not even Kiri with her Pandora Jesus powers can track her

You can take something off if you want and the rest you can choose what you want to do

Eywa blessed child

When neytiri and Jake had found out they were going to be parents they were overjoyed with the new, it had been one of the many good news to come since the end of the war between the navi and RDA. Twins will soon enter this world and join the omatacayia clan, their son neteyam was born first his birth had brought everyone great joy then there was his sister you. Your birth was seen as a bad omen to many has you had inherited your father human DNA born with five finger and toes and different shade of blue and different markings then everyone else. Even your hair was seen as something horrible it was white color very know to the navi, you were seen as demon child. She was also seen as the failure as well she was no like other navi child, and never seem to fit in with her clan or even her own family.

Y/n " dad I'm ......"

Jake " young lady I'm not going over this again with you" once again you are in trouble with you dad, training classes had happened and your had completely failed tsu'tey the mentor had brought you to Jake. As all the other mentor had competely giving up on your and deemed your a failure.

netyeam " dad she getting good it not easy for everyone"

Jake " stay out of this son I'm speaking to your sister she need to take accountability"

lo'ak " well dad if you most know there are others to blame for this, the blame is not all her"

Jake " I said enough you two now stop"

y/n " dad I have been trying my best to get better in class but I don't think I'm the warrior type"

Jake " don't pull this stunt on me young lady all the other kids can do combat but you, even te children younger then you can do better"

y/n " dad I'm sorry but I don't think I have it in me for war or to hurt others, I'm scared of going to battle I'm scared dad" you are scared of going to battle as you didn't wish to kill anyone. You wish to study some of these new humans which was not liked by anyone. You always seem to do things in a way that your understood but was not the navi way.

tsu'tey " brother she can't keep up with the other trainees if this keeps up she will be holding back everyone"

y/n " I didn't mean for that to happen I can get better"

Jake " you always say that you don't mean it or to now look what is happing no one else will wish to teach you"

Jake " that times I'm cleaning up your mess and speaking to others because you means we lost more of our people and home, all of this because you are scared ... stop being childish and selfish y/n and act your age because you selfish ways are causing this all"

y/n " I'm sorry dad I not mean anything of this I don't wish to be selfish"

Jake " I don't have the this I'm the leader I have our people and your brothers training to deal with neteyam has to be ready you are wasting my time and his"

y/n " what about mom I can help her maybe I can prove my self there and maybe grandma as well"

Jake " she busy with your baby sister tuk still a child and needs all her attention, and she has her stuff to deal with and your other siblings"

Jake " leave mo'at out of this matter she has your sisters to take after you she doesn't need you"

y/n " well maybe I can help your or the humans I can be helpful dad, give me a chance I know I have mess up but maybe if you hear me out"

Jake " I don't have time for now just go elsewhere and stay away from the warriors and everyone until future notice once again, I will be apologizing for you mistakes"

y/n " I can go say sorry to the class and my mentors"

Jake " just stopp y/n you have done enough today just go else" you said nothing else everyone knew your dad loves your sibling more, then you because when they messed up it was okay but when you messed up it was bad. He will defend them more than he will defend you and that was true.

y/n " yes sir" you soon walked away it seems like everyone was listening to the conversation, you soon reached your mom and sister as they sat outside of the home with, some other mother and children by them having a good time.

y/n " hey"

tuk " sis you are home"

y/n " yes lesson got done early"

kiri " did they or did you mess up again come on sister you have to start thinking more, before you act"

y/n " I did my best"

y/n " umm can I help you all with the weaving I got better" neytiri and kiri looked at each other and soon looked at you.

kiri " sister I and mom have been working on this for months and we have to make sure the style stays good, and it and project me and mom have been trying to keep a secret for dad"

y/n " oh what is it for"

neytiri " a gift for you father is has all the families ikran on it"

tuk " all but mine"

kiri " hush once you get your ikran we will add it" you were looking over the project it had everything special about everyone, in the family well expect you.

y/n "I think you are all missing something"

kiri " no we are not everything on there"

y/n " no you are missing...." you had taken a step not trying to ruin anything but there was soon a loud rip sound.

kiri " no y/n " you soon looked down to see the image of your parents and family had been ripped in half.

y/n " I'm sorry I was making sure I didn't step on anything wrong, here I can help" you had moved out of the way trying to clean up the mess you had made accidentally, but tuk and some other kids were running around not paying attention and trip over you bow that you placed away safely, but one kid had tossed it down hoping to win the game but it was seen like you had done it. sending them falling into the ground, hurting themselves as cries let out.

neytiri " tuk"

y/n " oh tuk I'm so sorry I didn't see you"

neytiri " enough"

y/n " here let me help I can take tuk and take care of her"

kiri " enough sister please move ... move I need to attend to our sister you had hurt while not looking where you are going"

y/n " umm sure is there anything I can do"

kiri " no juts stop"

y/n " tuk I'm sorry so sorry"

tuk " it hurts"

y/n " oh tuk I'm so sorry when you are better I will make it up to you, hey hey don't we go for flight or you can have my desert at dinner"

tuk " can a hug help"

y/n " oh tuk"

neytiri " just leave you sister alone just go away for a bit, we can deal with her"

y/n " okay mom is there anything I can do while I'm gone I can get dinner or collect new materials for the project anything name it"

neytiri " become a better daughter and sister, and one of the people" you looked at you mom hurt and it seems like your sister heard it as well, but soon went back to attend to tuk who was still hurt because of you.

navi mother " you have no shame ruining your mom and sister work and not hurting children even your own sister"

y/n " I didn't mean to if there anything I can do"

neytiri " just go away y/n please just leave and don't come back" neytiri was now looking at you in the eyes and she was mad, it seems like she didn't see you as her daughter anymore. You didn't say anything else as you soon left, feeling all eyes on you getting dirty looks from the mothers and their kids. Once you were out of the view of the clan you soon started running as fast and far you legs can take you. You kept on running until you could no longer run anymore feeling the pain in your legs and feet.

y/n " I'm even a failure to my family" you didn't know where you ran to but you just wish to sit down and relax.

y/n " I can't be a warrior like the rest of my family and I will never be a healer like kiri ... I always mess up and can never do everything everyone else wants me to do it like .... I'm no true navi I'm a demon in false body"

y/n " even I'm bring my sibling into this when it not their problem"

y/n " now because of me we are losing this warrior and more lives will be lost, and now I rude dad gift he would of like so much I rude everything .... I'm selfish and childlish as well" tears were falling down your face as your felt like a complete failure as daughter, sister, and navi altogether. You even thought the human hate you as well as they will rush away and cover stuff when you came by, you were unwanted by everyone. expect your sibling, your grandmother, and spider they always love you and wanted to spend time with you.

y/n " I just wanted to be helpful and keep everyone alive and well" you soon felt something touch your forehead. You soon open your eyes to see a wood spirt you had gotten up and look at it.

y/n " hello little one are you lost" you reach out your hand as the spirt start floating over it making you laugh and smile, soon more spirts had shown up getting your attention.

y/n " well it look like you are not alone" the wood spirt had float down towards your feet and start making it way up, soon followed by other doing the same as well as the other float around you. A smile had grown on your face as this happen it was so beautiful and wonderful.

y/n " huh" it seems like the woods spirt were leading you towards something so you decide to follow them, going deep and deeper into the forest until you reached a grand spitter tree.

y/n " wow' you follow the spirts towards the grains tree as all the other trees started to glowing brighter and brighter. you soon reach the tree truck.

y/n " I have never been here what is here anyways where I'm" the spirt from earlier was floating near you, as one the tree branch was hanging low.

y/n " I'm going with you want me to grab and see what happens right, well I'm trusting you spirt and all your friends ... oh please great mother given me strength to be strong and helpful ... I just want to be there for my family and people as I feel lost and useless" you had closed your eyes and made the connection, soon open your eyes.

y/n " huh" you soon saw Thanator was trapped one of rda traps, you remember this day as you soon saw a child version of you. Who was walking slowing towards the creatures holding your blade as you walked towards the creature. the Thanator was looking at young you made and growling, as you raised up your blade looking like you were making a hunter blow when you cut off the trap from the creatures and removed and tracking device.

younger you " there you go see I mean you no harm" younger you had broken the tracking device in many piece and soon tossed it over a cliff.

young you " see all good now you are all better they will not find you" the Thanator soon looked at you and soon bowed towards you and your bow back, the creatures soon ran off into the woods. The Thanator was not the last creatures you saved from hunter traps.

y/n " I remember that day I was so proud of myself" soon another memory started playing it was other version of you from years ago . You had come across some rda scientists and one solider .

Scientist " leave us alone we mean you no harm"

younger you " I mean no harm as well"

Scientist 2 " then why are you here anyways"

younger you " I saw your fire and came to see if you need help ... you r friend is sick" you had seen the other humans laying down sweating badly and sick.

Scientist 3 " no please don't him he our friend he mean no harm, he has a family"

younger you " I'm here to help no cause anymore harm" you soon saw flower that could help and some herbs, you grabbed them and soon of metal cups starting cursing them.

solider "what going one ... she one of them what is is doing"

Scientist 3 " don't worry she her to help you"

younger you " the hot water can I use it"

Scientist " yes give her what she said" the forth scientist had grabbed the water and gave it to you, and you soon poured the water into the cup and soon walked to the man.

younger you " drink it and you will feel better" You were kneeling down towards the man as he looked at you, he soon took the cup his friend.

solider " it ever sweet"

Scientist " what did you give him"

younger you " a herbal tea that will help heal you friend he will feel better soon"

solider ' thank you"

younger you " you are welcome now you all most head back to your home, before the scouting party see you"

Scientist 2 " why are you helping us"

younger you " because I care and you all seem like you mean no harm"

scientist " are you well enough to move"

solider " yes ready to go"

younger you " here some advice the rda higher up are using you all I know you all came here for some reason, but once the rda has had it use with you they will leave you all behind"

Scientist " thank you child we will always remember this"

younger you " if you use this way you will be home befroe dark and avoid any hunters out there, the warriors and brave and will defend our homes ... I have show your kindness today where other wouldn't dont make me regret my choices" the human had looked at you soon clearing thier stuff and soon leave the area, you made sure their tracks were not followed.

y/n " I still wonder whatever happen to them after that day" you had shown kindness and help your so called enemies will others would not. You even shown kindness toward you clan members and humans even due they didn't like it most of the time. soon the memories ended and you back in the real world.

???? " you are not selfish or childish" you soon got scared when you heard a deep voice speaking to you, making you looked around to see tshaik standing near you but she seemed different.

y/n " hello have you called me here"

????? " yes I have called you here today as I have been sneaking you out since the day you open your eyes"

y/n " huh"

????? " you think you are useless, selfish, and childlish, failure I'm right" the women was walking around you as you following her every movement.

y/n " yes"

???? " that is false I have seen what you have done in the past showing kindness towards the creatures here and face the most dangerous ones, and being there for enemies you wish to understand verse hate them"

y/n " yes"

????? " you are not useless, selfish, childlish, and failure you are perfect my child as I have a dynasty made for you and you will discover more as you grow"

y/n " huh what do you mean"

???? " you have come to place that thsaik once they are in elders years can come and you are still young, that speak volumes you will be great tshaik one day"

y/n " no that is for my sister I can't take that away"

????" still caring for your family that why you will be perfect my child, you will be good tshaik and show everyone what you can do" the women was soon standing in front of you and soon tapped your forehead as wood spirts soon started circle around you, as the women disappeared as the tree starting glowing bright and brighter. The wind was blowing as well and you could hear this sweet song and soon everything had felt like it stopped.

???? " now go live your life with wonder and beauty it will not be easy, but you will do great things my child great things" soon it felt like everything had ended.

y/n " thank you" It was night time and you realized it was far to late to be away from home, your family might be worried for you. You soon raced home with a smile one your face as the spirts followed you, as the ground glowing under your feet as your feet hit the ground. While everything else glowed when you fingers touched them, you felt some happy once you reached home you were alone.

y/n " I'm home but it seems like no came looking for me ... it okay at least they are all okay that all the matters" you soon reached your home to hear and see you family having a good time eating dinner and talking, you wish to join them but you didn't after today you felt it was wrong.

y/n " I should leave it will be bad if they see me" you soon went to place you had made with your siblings and spider, you soon climbed all the way up there it was tree house that what Jake called it. You had picked some fruit while eating it, watching some the light turn. You looked out onto pandora wondering what will happen next and what was your dynasty. You had fallen asleep that night not feeling alone like past nights you felt like you were not alone. anymore and just maybe there was some others here and with the great mother that are on your side.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Table for Two

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you meet someone you never expect at the grocery store.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“It’s not exactly coffee,” Steve says as he sits across from you, setting down a cup before you. “Pumpkin cream, special delivery.” 

“Oh, sorry, I guess I should’ve mentioned. I don’t do much caffeine. It makes me jittery,” you explain. 

“That’s fine. I don’t have it very often. Don’t really need it...” he flicks the side of his own cup. “The serum, you know.” 

“Serum...” you say. 

“Oh, uh, it was the stuff they gave me to make me the way I am,” he sits back, pressing his palm against the cup. 

“Right, right, sorry. I guess I forgot.” 

“Forgot?” He echoes. 

“Yeah, I mean, just that... I mean yeah, you’re Captain America but I just... I guess...” you can’t quite organize your thoughts. “Also, you’re Steve, the guy who is sworn enemies with self-checkout machines.” 

“Wow, we’re already joking about that?” His brows arch. 

“No, no, I’m not joking,” you say with a sly bat of your lashes. 

“Huh, you’re not as nice as you look, are you?” He clucks. 

“I have been taught to respect my elders so I’ll just agree,” you say. 

He stares at you and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. His blue eyes stick to you, pale yet vibrant, and his jaw is chiseled and perfect. You gulp. 

He laughs before you can apologise, He shakes his head, “you got me. If you hadn’t swooped in to help this geriatric, I’d still be fighting that scanner.” 

“Well, I got a leg up. I used to stand behind one of those daily. I’m sure if I was given a shield, I couldn’t do much with it,” you grin. 

You lift your cup and blow over it, taking a sip of the cream. Mm. The spices aren’t too strong or anything. 

“Maybe not but there’s all sorts of ways to save people. To help them,” he says. 

“I guess,” you agree and look around. “This place is nice. You been here before?” 

“Nope. Gotta be honest, I try to keep to myself. Public places aren’t exactly--” 

“Oh my god, I knew it!” A shrill squawk makes you flinch. A girl appears in a pair of thick-framed glasses like cat eyes, tugging along another by her wrist. They look about your age but colourful. She sports a rainbow jacket as her friend wears a polka dot dress. Their accessories are all novelties from various nostalgic sci-fi shows. 

“Captain,” the woman salutes. She is an adult after all, yet you feel she’s a bit childish in the way she stands agog of the man across from you. 

“Hi,” the other waves shyly. 

You hide behind your cup. You feel like an intruder on the moment. And you can tell by the tic in Steve’s cheek that he’s uncomfortable. Still, he turns to them and smiles. 

“Hello, how are you?” He asks. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” the girl in the rainbow jacket fans herself, “we’re like your biggest fans. I can’t believe you’re here.” 

The other one giggles. 

“Would you like me to sign something--” 

“Can we get a picture? She blusters over him.  

He keeps his picturesque smile and nods. He stands as the girl looks at you, “hey, you, do you wanna like, take our photo?” 

You blanch but get up. Steve glances at you with a glint of concern, “you don’t have to--” 

“I don’t mind,” you assure him as she hands over her cell. “Everyone squeeze in.” 

You step away from the table and aim the lens at the them. The unicorn horn on the phone case makes it difficult to angle. Steve stands between them as they flutter with joy. 

“Now say cheese,” you say. You click a few frames and lower the phone, “here, think I got some good ones.” 

You give the woman back her phone and she greedily checks the pictures. She squeals and shows the other. Steve sits as you go to join him at the table. 

“So, like, are you dating her?” The rainbow-adorned woman bats her eyes behind her lenses. “Because I heard you were with Sharon Carter and you two broke up on your last mission.” 

“Jamie,” the other girl whispers. 

“Sharon’s a work colleague. And a professional,” Steve insists, kind but blunt. “You two have a great day. It was nice to meet you.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she insists. 

He dips his chin and shrugs, “well, then I’m sure I can’t say much to convince you.” 

“So, you were dating,” she accuses. 

“Excuse me,” you intone. “Hi,” you give a small wave from your side of the table, “I’m not trying to be rude but we were in the middle of a conversation.” 

Steve says your name quietly, “you don’t gotta--” 

The girl raises her phone and snaps a picture of you before you can say anything else. Then she takes a step back and takes one of both of you. You frown as Steve stands. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

“No one ever told me you were an asshole,” she sneers. “And a liar. I’m going to put this all over Tiktok. And Insta.” 

Your heart races as you stare at her phone case. That was so strange and uncalled for. “Can you please delete that?” 

Your voice is drowned out by her rant about her socials. Steve crosses his arms, “I’m telling you to leave, right now.” 

“Oh, Captain, what are you going to do?” She sticks her tongue out. 

“Please delete it,” you say again, still unheard. 

“Now,” he growls. 

The girl’s taunting smirk falls from her lips. Her friend yanks on her arm and they both flee. You stare after them, mortified. You hide behind your hands as you measure your breaths. It’s fine. A long shot. You’re just paranoid. 

“You okay? I’m so sorry. I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I don’t really... go online. Like I don’t share my picture,” you lower your hands slowly. “She didn’t even ask.” 

“I’m sure she has all of five followers,” he scoffs, “hey,” he reaches across the table. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t--” you exhale and rein in your nerves. “That happen a lot?” 

He shrugs. 

“Wow. I couldn’t do that. I already knew you were brave but that is a lot. And you were so nice, despite that attitude,” you shake your head. Suddenly you realise why he was so uptight when you recognised him earlier. 

“Thanks for trying to help,” he says, “it’s a habit of yours, isn’t it?” 

“Big help I was,” you tut. 

“Well, if you weren’t here, it would’ve been awful but it’s not so bad.” He smiles as he considers you, “you told them to go away so nicely and you didn’t have to.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one for confrontation but that was pretty intense.” You say. 

“I should keep you around,” he chirps. “Like a bodyguard or something.” 

You laugh, “okay, now you’re making fun of me.” 

[ataliagold]

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C: 2012

Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington has dyscalculia, Steve Harrington has self esteem issues, Steve Harrington needs a hug, fluff, light angst, DnD, Mike and Dustin are a little mean here

Notes: Just slowly posting some of my AO3 stuff here as well :) Title from Rattlesnake by Jack Van Cleaf.

___

Steve joining in on Eddie’s campaign was supposed to be a nice surprise for his boyfriend.

And it was; Eddie’s face had lit up with joy when Steve had walked in and sat down with the kids around the table. Steve had taken the dice Dustin had loaned him and lined them up in front of him, from the D4 (the funny triangle one) up to the D20 (the one with heaps of sides, Steve reminded himself.)

If he kept them in that order it would help him pick the right dice quickly, he’d decided.

Because he wanted this to go to perfectly.

Eddie had been asking him to join in on a game for months, but Steve had so far refused, only coming along sometimes to watch quietly. There were parts of it that piqued his interest – namely the combat and the creatures Eddie planted into the game, because some of them were so damn cool even if Steve wouldn’t readily admit it out loud. A small part of him, a much younger part that had loved fairy tales and stories about knights and dragons and sword fights before his father had confiscated those books, deeming them too childish, watched with a quiet giddiness as the kids battled all manner of beasts.

But much of the game was so complicated - there were so many numbers, and Steve had no idea how Eddie and the kids managed to keep track of everything, how they added dice values together so damn quickly and kept track of a seemingly endless list of stats and bonuses and modifiers, whatever the hell they were.

Eddie knew about his difficulty with numbers. He’d seen the way Steve had to count with his fingers, how it took him far too fucking long to do a simple equation, how he stood in Melvald’s staring at the price of something just trying to make the numbers make sense so they wouldn’t blow their grocery budget.

And Eddie was patient, always. But D&D was Eddie’s realm, his place to shine, and Steve was so worried about holding him back and ruining the game every time he had to pause to add two fucking dice together.

Finally, he’d caved. Secretly, with Dustin’s help, he’d put a character sheet together. He’d made a paladin because Dustin had told him it suited him. Steve made him strong and lawful good, just like the knights he used to read about as a little boy. Dustin had rolled his eyes a little at that but Steve had been quite proud of what he’d put together.

Plus, Dustin had promised to help him with the math.

But here Steve was, well over an hour into the campaign, and he was struggling.

Cheeks burning, he turned to Dustin yet again.

“Wait, which one am I rolling?” he whispered.

Dustin rolled his eyes. The kid had been patient at first, but it was beginning to wear thin.

Steve was beginning to wear thin.

“The D10, Steve,” Dustin hissed.

“Right,” Steve nodded, grabbing for one of the dice.

“That’s the D8, Steve,” Mike said wearily.

Steve’s cheeks flushed even hotter, and he grabbed the other dice, rolling it quickly.

“Ahhh...seven,” Steve announced.

“You slash at the goblin, your blade cutting deep into its chest, the creature gurgling and reeling backwards…” Eddie leant over the table, giving a dramatic recount of events.

Steve smiled, unable to help it. His boyfriend was having such a good time, and even if Steve wasn’t enjoying himself so much, well, that was ok. He could do this, for Eddie.

“…but it scrabbles back to its feet, weak but alive,” Eddie finishes.

Mike groaned and slapped the table.

“It has to be almost dead,” Lucas announced.

“Yeah, but there’s still four others,” Mike pointed out.

“This one must be on two hit points or less,” Will surmised.

How did he know that? Steve frowned, let the kids talk amongst themselves. His gaze wandered over to Eddie, watching him lean back in his chair, eyes shining. He shot a wink at Steve when he caught him looking, then frowned a little, obviously noticing Steve wasn’t looking all that comfortable.

You ok? He mouthed at him.

Steve nodded quickly.

But he felt small.

Grow the fuck up, you’re fine.

“…Steve!” Mike groaned.

Steve’s attention snapped back to the kids. “What?”

“Stop staring at Eddie and tell us how many hit points you’ve got left.”

“Um…” Steve glanced down at the piece of paper in front of him. He’d scribbled some numbers down like Dustin had told him to every time his character had taken damage, but there were a lot of numbers there and he wasn’t sure they all actually related to his hit points…

“Give it here,” Dustin snatched the paper from him impatiently, peering down at it.

Steve waited while Dustin assessed his work, the feeling vaguely reminiscent of being back in school, his teachers reading over his work with a disappointed shake of their heads.

“This can’t be right, Steve,” Dustin sighed. “It says you’re on twelve hit points…is that a twelve? Your writing’s messy.”

Steve nodded. “Yours isn’t much better, pea-brain,” he mumbled, just to shoot something back at the kid.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. “You must have less than that because of the damage you took in the last round. You’re probably down to…eight at the most, by now.”

“Just make it eight, then,” Steve grumbled.

“Eight it is, big boy,” Eddie agreed.

“It doesn’t work like that, though,” Mike huffed. “You actually have to keep track of this stuff Steve, there’s no point playing if you just make the numbers up.”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Will tried to intervene quietly. “It can just be eight.”

Dustin picked up his pencil, drawing some columns on Steve’s paper. “Ok, so just use this one column to keep track of damage, don’t write all over the page. There’s your total hit points at the top, and every time you take damage, write it down under there, ok? And then just take it off the total. Simple.”

Like it was that fucking easy. Maybe for them, it was. They didn’t get every number mixed up in their brain, they didn’t stare at a single digit trying to put some numeric value behind it and coming up with zilch.

Dustin was trying to help, Steve knew. But his tone of voice was so fucking condescending that it had Steve squirming in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else.

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Come sit by me, Stevie, I’ll help you keep track.” Eddie said gently.

“You’ll just go easy on him, and that’s not fair!” Mike whined.

“Can it, Wheeler,” Eddie snapped at him.

“Just because he can’t do basic math.”

“Right, you get to roll with disadvantage now, just for that,” Eddie told him smugly.

Mike was retorting with something, but Steve didn’t hear it.

His pulse was thumping in his ears, his cheeks on fire. The years were stripped from him, the sensitive child he’d tucked away inside a long time ago forced to the surface.

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor.

“Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears.

He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much.

But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face.

This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid.

A tear tracked down his cheek , Steve losing the battle against them. He’d just drive home, he decided. Steve had come straight from work that day, so Eddie had come separately in his van, he wouldn’t be inconvenienced.

And then they could finish their game in peace, without having to treat Steve like a five-year-old.

He was getting in the driver’s seat when Eddie ran to him, both hands reaching for him.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured softly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled, dragging his sleeve across his face, smudging the tears there.

“Why? The kids were being assholes, I’ve already yelled at them.”

Steve shook his head. “I was just slowing everyone down, they were getting frustrated, I get it.”

“No, sweetheart, they were being rude,” Eddie corrected him. “Especially Wheeler.” Eddie brushed his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, crouching down beside the open driver’s door. “I’ve told them to pull their heads in. Do you…do you want to come back inside?”

“Eds…” Steve leant into his hands a little. “I’m no good at it. I really wanted to try, for you, and I’m so sorry I ruined it, but there’s too many numbers and I can’t keep track of everything and it takes me so fucking long and it’s embarrassing because I can’t even keep up with a bunch of kids, and I just feel like I’m back at school again.”

Eddie cupped his cheeks again, tilting Steve’s head to look at him. “Hey. You haven’t ruined anything, they did. I’m so happy you came along tonight, because I know you did it for me. But look, D&D doesn’t have to be your thing -”

“But -”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie cut in. “Just like…your balls in laundry basket games aren’t mine. But I like hanging around while you and Wayne watch them, and I love how excited you get about it, and how you sit there with that fucking pretty smile…”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, and Eddie grabbed his wrist to press a kiss to the inside of it.

“But I don’t know what’s going on most of the time,” Eddie continued. “It makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. So, I don’t want you to feel like you have to play D&D just for me if it’s not something you enjoy. It’s more than enough that you listen to my ideas, that you help me write -”

“I don’t really,” Steve said quietly.

“You do! Or have you forgotten who came up with that fucking amazing twist with the elven prince?”

“I got it from a movie,” Steve argued.

“So? I didn’t think of it, and it had the little shrimps completely stumped.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I do like some of the stories,” he admitted quietly. “But I think…I just wanna go home, ok? You can carry on.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m gonna get them to pack up in there. I’ll drop them home, then follow you back, ok?”

“Steve?” came Dustin’s voice from behind Eddie, small and hesitant.

Steve quickly straightened up in his seat, wiping a hand across his face.

“Yeah, buddy?” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“I’m…I’m sorry. That we weren’t more patient. It’s ok if you struggle with numbers, and we should’ve helped more.”

“It’s ok, Dusty,” Steve told him.

Eddie frowned, reached down to squeeze Steve’s hand, then turned to Dustin. “It isn’t ok,” he argued. “But it was nice of you to apologize.”

Dustin nodded. “If you want to try again sometime, I promise I’ll help more. I…I really liked having you play.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed.

“Tell Wheeler to start crafting his apology too,” Eddie said firmly, still cradling Steve’s hand in his own. “Otherwise he’s rolling with disadvantage for the whole next session.”

Dustin’s eyes widened a little before he nodded.

After packing up, the kids waited sheepishly by Eddie’s van. Eddie stayed crouched next to Steve a moment longer.

“Go home, get comfy on the couch, and pick out any movie you want to watch, ok?” Eddie murmured to him. “When I get home I’m gonna order us some pizza, and I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you, understand?”

Steve laughed softly. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

___

[chaotic-orphan]

Vendetta (X)

Read part one // Continued from here

Strap in lads, this is gonna hurt.

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain walked with purposeful, basking strides back towards the stage, villains parting like an honour guard for him as he walked. Villain walked behind, parading Hero after him, the whip cutting into Hero’s wrists and yanking them stumbling forward. Hero felt the coldness of Villain’s shadows possessing them, keeping them upright even as they longed to just pass out.

They didn’t want to fight anymore, they wanted to lie down and die with Superhero. They longed to plunge their… their sword that killed…

Tears somehow had the energy to keep streaming down their faces in bursts. They could still see Grieves striding forwards and grabbing the sword from Supervillain’s hands.

If Hero… if Hero never got caught then Superhero would be— they’d—

Villain dragged them up on stage and kept them by his side this time, letting Supervillain take centre stage. Grieves stood on the other side of the stage, next to Crow and the other boy from before who looked a little paler now, a little less relaxed.

“Superhero is dead. The heroes are scattered. We won!” Supervillain yelled. The shouts and cries of joy and laughter, the stomping and clapping and hollering and whistling, all of it sounded so far away to Hero who just sat staring at stage in front of them. They lost.

They actually… lost.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The good guys were supposed to win! The good guys won in every book and movie and— it can’t end like this? With Superhero dead, Hero on their knees immobile. Surely, surely someone else will come? Surely… Teleport? Or Medic? Or… or… Hero’s hands balled into fists as a fresh wave of sobs overtook their body.

It was pathetic and childish, and so, so tone deaf to the imminent life altering moment that was before them, but all they wanted in that moment was Vigilante. He’d know what to do. He’d hold them and hug them close and tell them everything would be alright.

Hero wanted them, longed for them, with every ounce of their soul. The grief was like a quilt, dulling their senses and making everything quiet, everything except that ache for the one person they loved; the one person who loved them most. The person they’ll probably never see again.

“The time has finally come for a world where we don’t have to hide our powers, where we can walk free from the shadows. Where the powerless will know who we are, and not fear us, but respect us.” Supervillain continued. He spread his arms and indicated the crowd to quiet down. “I know I promised a world where we would rule, but if I make that world then this cycle of violence will start again.”

Hero looked up, eyes on Supervillain as he spoke. What? Did Supervillain actually want peace all this time?

“I can see your faces, but fret not, friends. We will all be on the right side of history, and it will be the Heroes who suffer in the new world!”

Another burst of claps and cheers. Supervillain turned and gestured at the boy on the other side of the stage. Crow walked the boy up to Supervillain who smiled encouragingly. The boy couldn’t have been older than sixteen, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. He glanced over his shoulder at Hero who stared at him, too tired to offer any compassion.

“I want to thank each and every one of you here for helping us win this war, forging a new world order, know you will have my gratitude eternally.” Supervillain grabbed the boy’s hand and Hero felt the pull of power at the contact.

Their eyes widened and their stomach drooped. “No,” they breathed. Hero tried to push against Villain’s hold but Villain tightened the collar of shadows around Hero’s throat and squeezed. “No! Get back!”

But their warning was lost in the sound of cheers and applause. That boy… he must be some kind of magnifier, extending Supervillain’s reach of his power but how far Hero didn’t know.

A ball of light erupted from Supervillain and the boy, burning so bright that Hero had to turn their face away to shield themselves from the glare and the light was warm, pleasantly so, and it seemed to get closer and closer Hero. They heard bodies drop around them and people’s cries of surprise and fear and then nothing but a single, searing ringing that echoed everywhere; so loud and clear it was as if Supervillain had dropped a bomb on the battlefield and all that was left was silence and bright, white light, and that ringing.

Hero woke up in the light, stretching for miles around until it was out of sight, encompassing everything. The sky, the horizon, the earth, the ground, nothing was safe from its entombment.

Hero walked along the white ground, footsteps repeating coldly back to Hero’s ears, Villain’s whip and the shadows no longer a concern. Their hands were free. They reached up to touch their face but it was still flakey with blood from the battle, and Hero was in their same clothes. Hero frowned down at their hands.

“Confused?”

Hero whirled, eyes wide as they settled on Supervillain grinning in front of them. He stood casually, one hand in his pocket, his head tilted to the side, icy eyes focused on Hero.

His voice echoed off the expanse of emptiness. “What did you do?”

Supervillain let out a pleased sigh. “I changed the world Hero,” he said. “All I wanted was for the powerful and the powerless to live in harmony with each other. I didn’t want all the bloodshed.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Believe what you want,” he replied with a shrug. He started towards Hero, and Hero braced themselves, lowering their centre of gravity, ready for a blow, but Supervillain just put a hand on Hero’s shoulder. Hero stiffened, straightening. Supervillain’s eyes were sympathetic and kind. “It doesn’t matter anymore now. I won, Hero, and I’m finally ready for you to see my new world.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

Supervillain continued walking past Hero, and Hero turned to follow them. “I had you in stasis for a few months,” Supervillain said. Hero paused, frowning, and the expanse wasn’t just white anymore. There was a black dot faraway that Supervillain was walking towards, leading them towards. “Just while I crafted the new world to my liking.”

“What!” Hero demanded, panic gripping their chest. “But you just— we were just at the stage, at the—”

“Heroes Guild?” Supervillain asked with a chuckle, shaking his head almost fondly. “That was months ago now, Hero. Or was it a year?”

A year.

A year?

Supervillain looked over his shoulder, blue eyes capturing Hero’s in his. “Grieves kept you alive here. I didn’t want you to suffer so I asked him to make sure you wouldn’t remember anything until I was ready to release you.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. Supervillain was beside the black dot now, but it was a door. How did they get here so fast? When were they moving? Wasn’t Hero standing still? Hero’s frowned deepened.

Hero shook their head. “I don’t want to go. I— leave me here, please. Leave me so I don’t remember anything.”

Supervillain shook his head sadly. “I want you to see my new world, Hero. See what you fought so hard to stop, see that the fighting wasn’t worth it at all.”

The door was open. Supervillain was stepping through. “No! No!” Hero protested as Supervillain grabbed Hero’s wrist and dragged them through the open door into more whiteness. “No! Leave me! Leave me here! Please!”

Hero woke gasping, shooting straight up in their bed and clutching at the sweat soaked sheets. Their eyes darted around the room, looking for Supervillain, but they didn’t have to look far. Hero skittered back on the bed, shivering as they stared at Supervillain’s icy, smiling eyes.

“Hello Hero,” he said with his friendly voice. Hero swallowed, their eyes shooting to the door but there Grieves stood, glare fixed on Hero.

“Sleeping beauty finally awakes,” Grieves grumbled. Hero gasped, their chest beating in fretful staccatos, jumping and falling and plunging and pushing.

It’s a nightmare. This is just a nightmare and Hero will wake up and they’ll— they’ll—

Superhero’s face flashed behind Hero’s eyes. Hero’s eyes blew wide and they lunged forward, gripping the edge of the bed and threw up everything in their stomach which wasn’t much. Mostly bile and water.

They heard Grieves moan in disgust distantly as Hero shuddered, another wave of warmth climbing their throat as the battle came back to them in terrifying, vivid clarity.

The war… Vigilante… Teleport… they had lost. They— they lost, and Supervillain— a hand on their back and Hero flinched but they couldn’t move, afraid that if they did it would anger their stomach again and they didn’t want to throw up on the bed.

“That’s it, Hero,” Supervillain said warmly. “Get it out.”

Hero couldn’t reply before they were getting sick again, and then, somehow, they knew they were finished. They wiped their mouth with the back of their hand and sat up, shaking. Supervillain smiled at them.

“Here, sip some water. I’ll get someone to clean that up.” Supervillain said, pushing a glass to Hero’s lips. Hero blinked rapidly, steadying the glass with their two hands and tentatively taking a sip. The water was cool going down their throat, and pleasant. It washed away the taste of bile and acid and Hero wanted to swallow the whole thing, but Supervillain pulled the glass away. “Easy, Hero. If you gulp it down you’ll just throw it up,” he told them.

Hero sat back away from Supervillain’s outstretched hands, away from the water and glared at him.

“Come now, Hero. You could hurt my feelings with that look.”

“I will kill you,” Hero promised, their voice croaking from disuse, but the words were heavy, weighted with a vow that Hero would follow until their dying day. Or until Supervillain’s, whichever came first. Supervillain chuckled and leaned away, setting the glass of water on the table beside the bed.

“You can try,” Supervillain said with a shrug, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands on his thighs. Comfortable. Relaxed. As if Hero wasn’t a threat like this.

Because you’re not.

As if they were two friends catching up on lost time. Hero was new to Supervillain’s changed world. They didn’t even know what he did, let alone what his power was. This new world he promised, Hero wouldn’t be able to navigate it properly if he didn’t show them around. All they knew was that Supervillain killed Superhero and Hero would kill him for it.

Eventually.

After a brief adjustment period.

“No?” Supervillain asked, dipping his head to catch Hero’s eyes again. Hero swallowed the dryness in their throat. “Well then, perhaps we can have breakfast together. I can show you around.”

“How lo—” Hero’s voice broke and they coughed, trying to clear the clog. Supervillain grabbed the glass of water off the table and reached it towards Hero. Hero shook their head initially, but their throat was raw, burning and they took the glass from his hands. They almost dropped it immediately, and would have too, if not for Supervillain’s hand catching the bottom on his open palm.

“Sip,” Supervillain said, scoldingly. Hero gripped the glass with two shaky hands. They continued coughing and they couldn’t lift the glass from Supervillain’s hand, so Supervillain moved leaning forwards as Hero hacked. He was beside them in the bed, a hand on the back of Hero’s neck, cool and clammy against Hero’s burning skin and Hero hated how good it felt.

Hero leaned in and sipped some of the water. It settled the burning slightly and all too quickly Supervillain pulled away. Hero cleared their throat as best as they could, and Supervillain waited, patiently, until Hero nodded and Supervillain brought the glass back to Hero’s lips and they repeated the process.

They felt disgusting having their enemy so close to them, having to need his help to fucking drink water because their body was weak. Their muscles atrophied.

“Enough?” Supervillain asked and Hero nodded. Supervillain’s thumb ran over the back of Hero’s neck. “Good.”

He moved on the bed, getting off and letting his contact with Hero drop which Hero was grateful for. Their body was exhausted from that little exertion. They leaned back against the wall and watched as Supervillain placed the glass on the table again.

“How long?” Hero asked, their voice a little stronger than before. Supervillain smiled a little, as if Hero told a stupid joke.

“It’s coming up to the year anniversary since the world changed.”

The confirmation hit them like a train to the chest, like a bowling ball was dropped from the empire state building into their stomach from their ribs, far too heavy and crushing to comprehend.

“What?” Hero asked with a breath, tears pinpricking the backs of their eyes. “You left me in stasis for a—” they swallowed back a sob, “a year?”

Supervillain shrugged, turning his back to Hero and walking to the wardrobe beside the door. “It was necessary, Hero. I needed to solidify my hold on the world, make sure the memory was ingrained deep enough that it would take, and work to destroy records and such.” Supervillain continued, hangers clanging together as he looked through the clothes.

Hero swallowed. Was their brain slow or was Supervillain talking nonsense? “What do you mean ‘make sure the memory was ingrained?’ What did you do?”

Supervillain paused in his movements. He cast a glance back at Hero who was barely hanging onto their threads of consciousness and he started to laugh. Hero wished he were dead in that moment. They longed to grab their swords and spear them through his stupid throat and his lungs, and keep stabbing until he stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hero. I completely forgot. I never did tell you my power, did I?”

Hero blinked at him. They wouldn’t give Supervillain a show. They refused.

Supervillain smiled and turned to face Hero, two hangers with clothes in his hands. His smile was wide and dashing, and pleased and friendly. “I have the ability to alter memories.”

Hero stared. “What?”

Supervillain continued towards Hero, laying the clothes out on the bed. A hoodie and a tracksuit. Neither of which were particularly interesting to Hero at that moment. Supervillain set the clothes down and sat down on his chair again beside Hero’s bed.

“I altered the world’s memories of Heroes and Villains, of powers and the powerless. I made it normal for some people to be born with powers, and didn’t try and hide it from the world like Superhero wanted.” Supervillain said, his eyes glinting with corrupt pleasure, like he was enjoying seeing Hero’s entire world shatter on their face.

“And you know what, Hero?” He said leaning in. “Nobody batted an eye about it.”

“No fucking shit!” Hero seethed, leaning forwards despite their body groaning at them for the effort. “You altered their memories so they wouldn’t bat an eye about it, you dick!” Supervillain chuckled. It chilled Hero to the core.

“No, Hero,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. It’s hard to implement memories that people don’t already want to accept. Well, granted, it’s harder but still do-able. Although, you’ll be happy to know that Superhero’s idea of revealing powered individuals while maintaining their secret identities, made it an easier pill to swallow.”

Hero glared at him, clenching their teeth to stop themselves from screaming, their fingers curling into fists by their sides.

“You can’t just make the everyone forget about our past! The war, the heroes—”

“Oh, yes I can, Hero. Not alone. That’s what the amplifier was for.”

Hero frowned. Amplifier? Their mind scratched back to yesterday— no… it wasn’t yesterday. It was only yesterday to them. But Hero remembered when Supervillain was on stage, Villain keeping Hero on their knees at the back and the— “the boy.”

“Yes. The boy. We had to look high and low to find him, but find him we did. Everything had to go to plan otherwise the war would be for nothing.”

“Why would he help you?” Hero demanded.

Supervillain leaned back into his seat. “Because he wanted to protect his family from it.”

The two of them fell silent. Hero was struggling to fight back tears at Supervillain’s casualness. They wished they believed that Supervillain was lying. They wished they could hope that he was, but Hero knew. They knew that Supervillain was telling the truth, and that fact was attempting to swallow them whole.

“Did you protect them?” Hero whispered.

“I did.” And Hero knew that was true too. It didn’t make them feel better about it. “But that’s not the important thing I want to show you, Hero,” Supervillain continued with a small smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering about what happened to the rest of your heroes, hmm?”

Hero’s heart lurched in their chest. No, they weren’t, and they were horrible for nothing thinking about them, but their mind was so focused on Vigilante, would he remember them? Would he still… would they still?… Fresh tears pricked Hero’s eyes, both from guilt and an overwhelming amount of pain at Vigilante’s possible altered state.

Could Supervillain make him forget about their relationship? Their love? Icy eyes drank in Hero’s obvious hurt and helpless grief. He couldn’t imagine waking up after a year and being told the world has changed.

“Please…” Hero whispered, tears falling down their cheeks as they raised their head. “Please make me forget.”

“No,” Supervillain said softly. Hero fisted their hands in the bedsheets.

“Why?!”

“Because Hero, I need someone who doesn’t agree with me to keep me in check.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you murdered Superhero!” Hero seethed. Supervillain’s expression darkened.

“Hmph, yes. Well, Superhero would be far too meddlesome. He would have found a way to undo all my work.”

“And I won’t?”

Supervillain smiled. “No, Hero. You won’t. I have you tangled in a web that you don’t even realise yet. But, don’t worry, I am willing to show you. As soon as you are dressed.”

Hero glared at him. They weren’t ready to see the new world. They didn’t want to go with Supervillain.

“Can’t you put me back in stasis?” Hero asked, their voice a harsh, breathy wish. Supervillain’s smile turned sad. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, their nostrils flaring as their eyes drifted to the stupid, ugly tracksuit bottoms and hoodie.

“I want a shower.”

“You can have a shower.” Hero nodded. “I had a wet chair placed in the shower for you. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

The forethought that Supervillain had put into Hero’s awakening turned their stomach. Why had he thought of everything? Considered every possible discomfort and ensured Hero wouldn’t feel it? How long had he been planning this?

“Are you ready?” Supervillain asked, standing and extending his hand to Hero. Hero didn’t look at him, didn’t reply, but they grabbed his hand and let him help them towards a door in the corner of the room. He opened it and helped Hero in, and Hero didn’t apologise or care that much that they were leaning all of their weight on Supervillain. Their legs were numb and unused to carrying the load of their torso.

Hero saw the chair eventually, alert eyes scanning the shower, searching for a razor or something g that would let them hurt themselves but of course, there was nothing. Hero shrugged the thought away mentally, they could always slam their head against the ground until they were dead.

Supervillain set them down in the chair. “I won’t insult you by staying, so I have made a couple other safety measures.”

Supervillain pulled a pair of cuffs from his pockets and Hero recoiled, but their body was too slow and weak to respond, to fight against Supervillain as he cuffed their left arm to the right arm rest of the chair. He did the same with Hero’s ankles and Hero didn’t fight him anymore. They didn’t have the energy to fight a battle they knew they wouldn’t win.

“How will I take my clothes off genius?” Supervillain smiled. He held up a scissors and Hero rolled their eyes. “Of course.”

“I won’t look,” Supervillain said kindly, as if that made a difference. As if it would be less humiliating for him to cuff them and cut their clothes just enough so Hero could shimmy out of them in their current state with only one hand free.

“I can’t do anything like this,” Hero said through clenched teeth.

“You needn’t worry, Hero. Grieves made sure you were clean, he let you do the essentials like drink water and use the toilet.”

“Couldn’t have let me eat during that time, no?”

Supervillain dipped his chin back. “You and I both know how resourceful you are. What if you accidentally brushed Grieves and his power failed? You will be fine with just this for today. You’ll understand more about your time in stasis later, but you can rest assured, you’re not dirty.”

With that Supervillain turned the water on and left. It was refreshingly warm, not too hot or cold. Just enough that it returned some heat to Hero’s body that seemed to be seeping from every pore. Slowly they removed the shirt, which was hanging only by the loop of the collar, up and over their head and let the water touch their bare skin.

They sat in the water motionless for they didn’t know how long, long enough for their fingers to prune and only then did they open their eyes. A shelf was near their left hand and on it some shampoo and conditioner and soap. Hero rubbed it everywhere, too tired to try and fight to take off their trousers, they just slipped the soap bar underneath and scrubbed until their skin was red raw.

A knock at the door after Hero was done. “Are you finished?”

Hero thought about not answering him. “Hero?”

“Yes.”

Supervillain walked in and turned off the tap, his eyes closed and wrapped the towel around Hero’s chest. Hero wrapped it further, and told him it was okay to look when their modesty was satisfied. Supervillain unlocked their cuffs and escorted the dripping Hero back to their bed, the towel wrapped firmly around them now. It was soft, white and fluffy.

“I already laid out your clothes. I’ll turn around,” Supervillain said once Hero was sitting on their bed again.

“I assume you can’t make yourself new memories.”

“In the same way I doubt you can negate your own abilities, no. Why?”

Hero picked up the tracksuit, their nose scrunching with disgust. “Shame you can’t just make yourself memories of being stylish.”

Supervillain laughed. Hero glared at his back as they pulled on the half zip hoodie. “Of all the things you have to be angry at me for, Hero. I didn’t think fashion would factor into it.”

“Don’t worry,” Hero answered, yanking their trackies up their legs and tying the drawstring. They were annoyingly comfortable and soft. “I have plenty of anger to go around. And fashion always comes into it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do I get shoes?”

“Are you finished?” Supervillain asked. Hero half expected him to turn but he didn’t until Hero said, yeah, I’m done.

“You won’t need shoes for the time being.”

Hero stared at him. “Do you seriously think I’m in any state to run away?”

“Hero,” he said, gently scolding. A tone that set Hero’s teeth on edge. “You can’t even stand up by yourself. I have a wheelchair for you.”

Hero paused, frown drawing their features down. “I am not going around in a wheelchair!”

“It’s either that or I carry you like a child, Hero. It’s your choice.” Supervillain shot them a look and Hero glared back. They didn’t need a wheelchair. They could— Hero could stand up on their own! And they would fucking prove it.

Hero didn’t break eye contact as they grabbed the headboard of the bed and pushed themselves up to shaky feet. Supervillain watched them, saw their shaking muscles and weak legs and their determination as they took a step.

Their ankle folded and Hero almost fell but they caught themselves and let out a startled: “wait!” to stop Supervillain from swooping in and saving them from falling flat on their face. Hero swallowed and pushed themselves back up, sweating from the effort as they pulled themselves to their full height, wobbling only slightly as they lifted their burning gaze to meet Supervillain’s.

“See? I’m fine.”

“I’ll carry you then,” Supervillain said with a shrug, starting towards them. “It makes no difference to me. I just thought you’d want to retain some semblance of dignity.”

Hero backed up. Fear immediately wiping away the determination from before and Hero stumbled back, falling onto the bed and kicking up a leg to keep Supervillain back but he kept coming.

“OKAY! OKAY! Fine! I’ll— the wheelchair,” they said, trying to smother their panic with rage. They hadn’t felt this weak in… well, ever, and it scared them more than Supervillain did. “I’ll take the wheelchair.”

As if on cue there came a knock on the door. Supervillain straightened with his chilling, friendly smile, his eyes twinkling with an awful knowing that turned Hero’s stomach.

“Enter.”

The door opened and a wheelchair rolled through. Supervillain stepped out of Hero’s line of sight so they could get a full view of the door as Grieves walked through, grinning at Hero, followed by a familiar head of jet black hair.

“Medic?” Hero whispered, surprised they could get that word together with the lack of oxygen in their chest. Medic looked at Hero and no recognition flashed across his face. He was wearing an apron, with a bucket and a mop. His eyes narrowed when he saw Hero.

“Who are you?”

“Medic,” Grieves chastised and Medic winced. Grieves turned and placed a hand on Medic’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Don’t touch him!” Hero growled, shooting to their feet. The world swam and they grabbed the headboard for support, but Supervillain caught them and started pulling them away, towards the wheelchair.

Medic’s eyes turned quizzical as they caught Hero’s, frowning as Supervillain turned Hero and shoved them into the chair. Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl, about to curse Supervillain out of it when Supervillain shot them a look, his icy eyes freezing Hero in their defiance.

“Would you like the same treatment as the shower or will you behave?”

“You’re a fucking monster,” Hero spat, tears welling up on their lower lids, blurring edges into colours and shapes. Supervillain didn’t move, his expression didn’t change.

“Will you behave?”

Hero grabbed the arm rests of the wheelchair, arms shaking from their white knuckled grip. They couldn’t answer, not verbally, so they nodded stiffly. Once up and once down, almost imperceptible, but Supervillain saw.

“Good,” he said, and Hero could hear the smile in his voice. Medic walked past Hero towards the vomit by the bed and set the bucket down, dunking the mop in. That’s all Hero saw before Supervillain turned their chair.

Grieves was by the door, arms behind his back, a grin on his papery face. Hero glared at him as Supervillain wheeled them out the door, their face flooding with shame. Only when they saw that the hallway was empty did they let the helpless tears fall.

Hero would right this, they vowed.

They would fix everything. They’d kill Supervillain and Grieves, and Villain and all other villains that were conscious to the change— the ones that remembered the old world — but first, they needed to get their strength back.

They needed to learn how the new world worked. They had to play nice with Supervillain while they learned exactly what this world they had woken to was. What a world looked like in Supervillain’s image.

If Grieves had Medic, he probably had Teleport too, but Hero couldn’t know until they saw her with him. And if Grieves had them, then Villain probably had…

Hero swallowed. Surely Vigilante would remember them? Medic and Hero were friends, but— but isn’t love supposed to survive every trial? Hero stared at their knees dejectedly. If Supervillain wiped everyone’s minds… nobody, none of the heroes or Hero’s friends would remember who they are. They’d just think Hero’s another of Supervillain’s generals.

“Does anyone remember me?” Hero asked. Their voice came out so quiet that even Hero wondered if they had asked a question out loud at all.

“No,” Supervillain replied, just as gentle as before. “Superhero is a villain in their eyes, the darkest days of our lives, so I wouldn’t try and cosy up to them by throwing his name around either.”

Hero sucked in a breath. “Did you enslave every hero?”

Supervillain chuckled. “Not all of them. My generals got their first picks. You can guess who Grieves chose.”

Hero clenched their jaw. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did.”

“Why?!” Hero demanded, slamming their palm on the arm rest of the wheelchair.

There was a pause. Supervillain stopped walking. Hero’s heart thumped loud in their chest. They felt Supervillain remove his hands from the chair, and he walked around to the front of Hero. Hero refused to look at him, but it didn’t matter. Supervillain tilted Hero’s chin up with the pads of his index and middle finger, until Hero’s eyes met piercing blue.

“I want you to acclimatise to your new life quickly Hero. Superhero would have run around and tried to form connections and rally his friends in vain to revolt against me. I want you to know that that idea will not be tolerated.” Hero felt their eyes burn with hot, frustrated tears that they refused to let fall. “And it won’t be you who is punished for your insolence.”

Supervillain leaned down, his hands going to the armrests of the chair, fingers wrapping around Hero’s wrists and pinning them as Hero shrunk back in the chair. Supervillain stopped a hair’s breath away from Hero’s face.

“It will be your friends. Medic and Teleport, and the little traitor Vigilante.” Hero struggled against Supervillain’s grip in vain, their blood rushing like a waterfall in their ears, deafening. “And I’ll make you watch as they are hurt for your petty defiance. Do I make myself clear, Hero?”

Hero was shaking. Their lips shut resolutely. Supervillain squeezed their wrists in warning. “Hero.”

“Yes.” Hero hissed. Supervillain smiled, leaning back. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, grabbing their wrists and putting them in their lap when Supervillain pulled away.

“Good,” he said, chipper and happy. His mood changing as suddenly as a day became a year for Hero. “Let’s get some breakfast then. All this excitement has me working up an appetite,” he said, and he was pushing Hero’s wheelchair through the halls again, as if he didn’t threaten everyone Hero loved.

Everyone Hero loved. People who didn’t remember them anymore. The only person they had vaguely on their side right now was Supervillain, much to their chagrin, but that’s the way it was and would be until Hero was strong enough to fight back.

First, breakfast.

Then they could figure out a plan.

Find Vigilante and they could fall in love all over again, if that’s what it takes… Hero was ready to abandon being a hero during the war for Vigilante, they could do it again now. Stop being a hero and just find Vigilante and be happy.

It would be what Supervillain wanted. What Supervillain asked of them; Not to be an upstart like Superhero, not to fight back futilely. Hero closed their eyes and let Supervillain push them through unfamiliar halls.

They could do this. They would survive this.

End of Arc 1

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101

GUUUYYYYSSS!!!! It’s finally gotten to the part of the story where the title makes sense now~ hehe, also, would recommend for those that want little tidbits/sneak hints/easter eggs I would listen to Jann’s song Gladiator on Spotify for the clues to the next arc of the story

Thank you for reading my happy fic, I love you all so much cause this one’s special, my poor lil baby, Hero is all alone :( with only their nemesis for safety and comfort :(