#might chill with death occasionally
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Needs a „both“ option
Very curious if this is a common experience (only answer skeleton if the first 3 don't apply)
#I‘m an archaeologist- I encounter human remains fairly often (not as often as some might think but it does come up enough for me to be chill#about it)#also did many classes in the morgue when I was studying and handled cadavers occasionally#also was there when my grandfather died and held his hand after#death is normal and we need to have healthier attitudes about it as a society#can‘t recommend Caitlin Doughty‘s Ask a Mortician channel enough#for a movement towards shifting our attitudes and confronting how we avoid death
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I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.
In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.
Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.
On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.
It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”
I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.
That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.
It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.
Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.
I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.
After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.
Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.
I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.
I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.
Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.
I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.
But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?
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COLD HANDS ⎯⎯ ﹙ 니키 ﹚
❄️ tell me why , your hands , are cold
in which . . . you have your own personal heater to warm you up — 니키 x f! reader ୨୧ non! idol au / fluff wc 1.2k ・ w kissing, corniness, pet-names + from liz. for my sia <3
likes and feedback are greatly appreciated ><
You always hated cold weather. You hated how your hands would get obnoxiously cold, the numbness creeping up your fingers until it felt like they weren’t even yours anymore. You hated how your skin would feel dry and tight no matter how much lotion you slathered on—nothing seemed to help. You hated the way the cold air nipped at your nose and stung your cheeks. But most of all, you hated how the wind would whip against your face, especially on days when it was so gusty that it felt like the world itself was trying to freeze you out. Winter was a season you wished would never come. It was gray, bitter, and never-ending.
Except this time around, you feel warm.
Your hands weren’t as cold as before, not with Riki’s hand firmly holding yours. High winds didn’t bother you as much anymore, not when you were wrapped in his warmth. Two scarves now adorned your neck, one from him and one from you, and it was strange how the things you’d once hated about winter now felt comforting. The season that had always been an enemy now felt like a companion.
Your warmth was Nishimura Riki. His hands were always warm, even in the dead of winter. And they never left yours as you strolled through downtown, the city streets empty except for the occasional late-night wanderer, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. You weren’t really looking for anything, just for something to snack on, but it didn’t matter. With Riki beside you, everything else faded away.
“Why are your hands so cold?” Riki asked, his frown deepening when you slipped your hand into his, shivering from the chill of your fingers.
“Would you like my gloves? Tell me why your hands are cold,” he immediately started to pull off his gloves, intent on giving them to you, but you stopped him with a soft laugh.
“Love,” you giggled, reaching out to stop his frantic movement. “I’m fine. Just hold my hand, please?”
He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in concern, but when his fingers gently closed around yours, the warmth surged through you. You couldn’t help but smile. It was a comfort you never knew you needed.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft. His grip tightened, but there was a tenderness in his touch, like he was afraid you might slip away from him. “You’re freezing. I don’t want you to get sick.”
You shook your head with a grin. “I promise, I’m fine. You’re warm enough for both of us.”
“Mm,” Riki murmured, unconvinced. “I swear, you’re like an ice cube. What would I do if you really froze to death? I’d be all alone.”
You giggled at his dramatic tone. “Don’t worry, love. I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as you’re here.”
He gave you a pointed look. “Well, if I’m going to be your personal heater, you at least have to be careful. I can’t keep you warm forever.” But the seriousness in his voice only made you smile wider.
“I don’t mind,” you teased, squeezing his hand. “I love having my own personal heater.”
Riki rolled his eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Not even the label ‘boyfriend’?”
You grinned mischievously. “Okay, okay. Fine.” You squeezed his hand again. “My personal heater boyfriend. Happy now?”
His smile softened, his eyes full of warmth and affection as he looked at you. “Much better.”
He leaned down and kissed you softly, just a quick peck, but it was enough to make your heart flutter. When you pulled away, a faint blush had spread across his cheeks. You smiled even more at the sight.
“You’re so cute,” you murmured, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.
Riki raised an eyebrow. “Cute? I’m not cute. I’m just trying to keep you alive here.”
You laughed, poking him in the ribs. “You’re totally cute. Don’t even try to deny it.”
Riki huffed, shaking his head in mock indignation. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, babe. But seriously,” he added with a teasing smile, “if you ever freeze to death, I swear, I’ll be devastated.”
You looked up at him, your smile fading just a little as his words sank in. “I promise I won’t freeze to death, okay? You’ll always be here, right?”
“Always,” he said, squeezing your hand tighter. “No matter what. I’ll be here to keep you warm, no matter how cold it gets.”
His words made your heart swell. Riki was always like this—protective, sweet, and so unbelievably warm. Not just physically, but in every way that mattered. He made the world feel brighter, even on the coldest days.
“Good,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Because I don’t think I could survive winter without you.”
“Then you better not try,” he said, his voice light, but there was an edge of seriousness to it. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and I’m not letting you freeze to death.”
You chuckled, but it was a soft sound, filled with warmth. “Well, lucky for you, I think I’m stuck with you too.”
Riki smiled, his gaze so tender it made your chest ache. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”
The two of you walked on, the cold air biting at your cheeks, but with every step, the warmth between you two only seemed to grow. Every little touch, every shared moment, made the chill of the night seem distant and insignificant. With him by your side, the world didn’t feel so cold.
Suddenly, winter didn’t feel so depressing. With Riki by your side, everything had changed. He was the one who made the cold bearable, the one who made every moment seem warmer. When he wrapped his arms around you, the chill of the world seemed to disappear, replaced by the heat of his embrace. He always made sure the wind didn’t reach you, pulling you closer when it got too strong, knowing how much you hated it.
There was something so comforting about being with him in the middle of winter, something that made the harsh season seem not so harsh after all. When you were with Riki, you felt safe, cared for, and loved in a way you had never known before. On nights when the temperature dropped and the wind howled, his presence was enough to turn the world into a warm cocoon. It was as though he could block out the cold, not just with his physical warmth, but with his unwavering attention.
You never thought you’d love winter, but with Riki, everything felt different. The cold nights that once made you miserable now became an excuse to stay inside together, wrapped in blankets, sipping hot drinks and just enjoying each other’s company. Or sometimes, you'd go out for late-night walks, bundled up in scarves and coats, your arms intertwined as you explored the quieter parts of the city. The chill in the air was a small price to pay for the warmth he provided.
You realized you wished winter could last forever—just so you could spend endless nights cuddled under thick blankets, falling asleep with his kisses on your forehead and his arms around you. The thought of resting with him, sharing quiet moments that only winter could bring, filled you with a deep contentment.
Riki was your warmth. He was your sunshine in the frost. And with him, even the coldest days felt like a gentle embrace.
He was the sunshine of your life. And in the midst of winter’s harshness, you were grateful for him more than words could say.
#𓂃 ୨୧ 𓈒 ◌ MADEWiTHLOVE.#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen angst#enhypen imagines#enha#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha imagines#enhypen niki#niki enhypen#niki#niki x reader#niki angst#niki imagines#nishimura riki#riki#riki x reader#riki angst#riki imagines#enhypen riki#riki enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enha scenarios#niki scenarios#riki scenarios
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Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of
Anyways-
VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble
Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.
Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.
Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.
Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.
Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers
She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you
While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”
Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.
She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”
Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”
If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.
She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”
Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.
Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)
Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”
Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.
If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)
Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.
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You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.
“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.
“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”
You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”
“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”
“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”
She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”
You burst out laughing, making her smirk.
“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”
“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”
Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”
You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”
“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”
Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.
“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.
“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.
Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
#arcane#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#violet arcane#vi headcanons#vi imagines#arcane x female reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#arcane drabbles#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#arcane headcanon
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Withered Cards | IV
Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.
Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.
Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.
Series Masterlist
Your body still ached from the hits that Joker had blown at you only a week ago, the scab forming over your split lip leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. The bruises still had yet to heal, the purple blemishes littering your skin and serving as a fresh reminder of just how cruel and nasty the Joker really was. It had been a week. A week since your failed mission, and a week since you had last seen Robin.
You had found yourself mostly staying hidden away in your tiny room back in the warehouse, finding that it was much greater comfort than having to be around the tantalizing grin Joker always sent in your direction, like a lion baring its teeth to its prey. So of course, when you had heard a loud bang on your door with the Joker bidding you farewell, claiming he had 'unfinished business to attend', you were more than relieved to finally stretch your limbs and let your guard down; just a little.
Though even without the Joker there for the few days you had, your heart would leap into your throat whenever you thought to hear something similar to his maniacal laughter. You were constantly on edge even without him there, and Harley seemed to be mourning his absence just as much as you were enjoying it.
Sitting on a random rooftop with the glimmering city lights below did little to ease your running thoughts. The familiar chill of the freezing air pricked at your skin to which you folded your arms against your chest for a sense of warmth. Gotham had seemed to be a lot quieter tonight, a very rare occasion. Crime was low, and the usual distant sirens were quiet. You could even hear the occasional laughter and cheers from the bar just down the street.
You wished to bask longer in the silence, in your own company, but it was quickly gone when you heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor behind you.
You didn't need to look over to know that he was staring directly at you, observant and intrigued. In any other situation, you would have found yourself reaching for your knife and defending yourself against the charging enemy, fists flying and weapons drawn for blood, but this was different. Very different. There was no harshness to his steps, no attacks thrown at you, only silence.
The silence dragged uncomfortably long, and you kicked your legs back and forth over the edge of the building as you let out a long breath.
"I didn't think the Robin would be paying me a visit tonight," you kept your gaze trained below. "If I had known, I might have put on my better shoes!"
The pounding in your chest grew with each word you spoke, but if he had come to fight you, he would have done it by now.
He ignored your comment and instead came up beside you. It was then you finally turned your gaze up at him, noticing his yellow, red and green costume. The dominoe mask shadowed his face, though you could see little due to the dimmed lights of the city. He was staring right back at you, a little too much for your personal comfort.
He slumped onto the edge of the rooftop with a huff, maintaining the safe distance between you both. You had to resist from smiling a little to yourself at the silliness of it all. Robin, your enemy, the one who had made you fail your mission and make the Joker’s anger flare was currently sat five feet away as if nothing had happened.
He was playing a dangerous game, yet you were curious to see the reason of his arrival. If he wasn't here to start something, why was he here at all?
The tension was thick with something you couldn't place, but the feeling was oddly unsettling. Not because you were fearful, but because you were oddly excited for this coincidental meeting.
"Tough week?" he questioned in a tease, pointing to your split lip and the yellowish bruise poking out from under your mask. You merely scoffed at the boy before subconsciously licking the cut on your bottom lip.
"Maybe. It would have been a hell of a lot better if you had left me that vial, though," you looked at him, catching the smile that had appeared on his face triumphantly before he quickly disguised it with a bored look.
"What did the Batsy say when you handed it in," you continued. "It better have been good, considering the Joker wasn't too pleased when I returned without the one thing he had asked of me." You gestured to your eye again, his gaze lingering there for a few moments too long.
He tensed at the mention of Batman, lips twitching into a frown.
"Nothing you need to know," he mumbled out, irritation laced in his voice. You quirked a brow.
"I think I do," you laughed, though it was obviously fake. "Considering you're the reason I got my ass beat."
He ignored you, instead shifting himself so that his leg was now propped up on the edge of the roof. He tilted his head in question.
"What are you doing here, anyway? Another Joker deed or dwelling in your failure," he taunted.
"Having a breather," you were quick to reply in defense, and you noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise. He let out a soft laugh, something that surprised you considering you didn't hear laughter too often where you were, or perhaps too much from the Joker.
"Something that we have in common," he mused, and for the first time you felt a strange sense of welcoming with Robin. With anybody, for that matter.
The both of you remained at a safe distance, but his presence alone was one that confused you. Tonight, even with him a mere five feet away, you weren't worried about having to fight him, worried about hiding away, or worried about who you were raised with. It was nearly as if in this moment, you had somebody who didn't pose you as a threat. Or at least, not much of a threat.
Robin's movements were relaxed and composed, abandoned of any tension he may have held before regarding your presence.
“I’m guessing you don’t do this often,” Robin concluded. “If not at all.”
You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment. “How would you know?”
The corner of his lip tipped into a smile, and he shrugged, flexing his shoulders in a way that caused for his suit to stretch.
“I’m here nearly every night, and I can positively say, I haven’t seen you out here once.”
“And I bet you wish you could see me, little birdy,” you fake pouted, watching him closely.
He breathed out a laugh, his eyes squinting under the dominoe mask that concealed his identity.
"Believe me, if it didn't end in you nearly breaking my nose last time, I might have considered it."
You just stared at him, your mind trying to figure him out. In all honesty, you don't remember the last proper conversation that you had with somebody. much less around your age.
"How old are you?" the question had slipped out before you could stop it.
Robin glanced back at you; a brow raised. "Not much older than you, I'd guess," he looked you up and down. "How old are you?"
"Thats not an answer," you deadpanned, ignoring him. "For all you know, I could be a sixty-five-year-old woman with insane plastic surgery."
"But you're not," he clarified. "No old woman would be able to jump off rooftops and work for criminals like him."
You cringed at the mention of the Joker.
Robin let out a low hum, and the city lights from below flickered across the right side of his face in what seemed to be like a dance.
You opened your mouth. "You're not-"
"Stop." He cut you off.
You paused. "Excuse me?"
He held up a hand, his gaze going past you. It was only then you heard the quiet grunts and rummaging from a nearby alley. You were already on your feet and moving toward the sound, steps cautious. Robin was right on your heel, and by the time you were both on the ground hidden by the shadows in the alley, you could see a hunched figure leaning against the brick wall, digging through what seemed to be a purse.
You turned to Robin, a mocking smile gracing your lips. You gestured an arm out.
"Well? After you, Wonder Boy," you said.
He frowned. "Is that some way you're going to get me distracted and then knock me out when my backs turned?"
You rolled your eyes. "No, do I look like a hero who fights purse thieves?"
He looked you up and down. "Honestly, no."
"You didn't have to answer, bird brain. Just go!"
The man who had been distracted for long enough suddenly snapped his head toward you both, snarling.
"What the hell?"
The man stood abruptly, stepping closer, though Robin was quick to move from the outstretched hand of the man. With a swift kick, the man was doubling over with a grunt and spilling the contents of the purse onto the floor.
The man growled in annoyance, lunging for Robin again, but he was quick to duck down away from the mans clenched fist before it could make contact. You, however, watched on with amusement.
"You could have been a bit more original rather than a purse thief," Robin called out to the man.
The grunts exchanged between the two continued, and you cringed at the few hits Robin had received. You had to admit, he put up a strong fight.
"Little rat!" The man yelled, holding his head where a punch managed to land before he stumbled out of the alley, disregarding the purse he previously held.
Robin huffed, brushing a dark stray of hair away from his face. He looked over, meeting your gaze as you clapped mockingly, stepping out from the shadows and closer to him.
He stooped down, picking up what looked to be an ID.
"Do you know a Lora Johnston?" He said, flipping the card in his hand.
"Can't you search that up on a special little gadget or something?"
He mumbled out something that you failed to hear.
There was a pause.
"I think you could improve on your movement," you said, and his eyes snapped to yours. Something changed in his features that you couldn't place.
"Teach me, then."
Your mouth ran dry. "What?"
"If you teach me, then ill teach you some stuff." He was quick to add, but you shook your head quickly.
"I don't need your help."
You went to turn, but you let out a yelp when you were suddenly tugged back and landed onto the hard floor.
"You let your guard down too easily," Robin teased. You only glared up at him with annoyance.
You stood back up to your feet and wacked him on the shoulder, pushing past him and walking toward the alley entrance to leave, but he quickly called out to you.
You ignored him, but he called out again.
"What do I call you?"
You stopped and turned to him, eyes wide.
There was a long pause. "Nothing," you said. "I can't give you a name."
"Well," he thought, a suggestive smile gracing his lips that you knew you'd see again. "I guess I'll just have to decide myself."
You turned again, waving a hand this time. "Until next time, birdy!"
He let out a chuckle. "Until next time, Princess!"
You remain silent the rest of the walk, your interaction with Robin nothing like how you would have imagined it. He confused you more than you'd like to admit, but oddly enough, tonight was a change, and you liked it.
You couldn't remember the last time you had spoken to somebody so casually, the sense of normality something you craved more of. Though the two of you barely knew each other, much less trust, you had hoped it wouldn't be your last interaction.
@annabellelee @stormz369
©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.
#x reader#au#jason todd#batfam x reader#batman#bruce wayne#damian wayne#dc comics#dc#dick grayson#Jason Todd x Reader#Jason todd x you#dc imagine#batman x reader#batfamily#batman comics#Joker#Tim Drake#comics#jason peter todd#jason todd angst#jason todd dc#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd imagine#batman and robin#robin#red hood x reader
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Hi I see you're opening request, so I'm here to ask for one. Thank you so much!
Plot: Zayne anger and his punishment when he find out you lied to him and get yourself in dangerous.
anon are you a mind reader?! 👀 bc I've had a draft of this sat in my wip folder for ages!!!
Hope you enjoy!! 💕
Sorry isn't enough...
Zayne x reader
Warnings: angst, lots of angst, no comfort, Zayne is mad (and possibly ooc)
Might do a part 2 (with a happy ending as an apology for this)
Zayne doesn't yell. In fact, in all the time you'd known him you couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Sure he got annoyed with you sometimes, mainly when you ignored his advice or turned up at the hospital with yet another injury, but it never boiled over into anger. He'd scold you like a child, giving the occasional icy glare, but nothing more. So when you limped into his office today, an hour late for your appointment and caked in dirt and dried blood, you were prepared to receive another lecture about safety from your primary care physician.
The minute you opened the door and took the first unsteady step into his office, you knew something was off. The air held an icy chill, causing a shiver to run down your spine, the tension increasing with every step. You could feel the pressure of Zayne's eyes on you as you approached his desk, piercing green gaze scrutinising every aspect of your appearance, taking note of every scrape and bruise, every smudge of blood that stained your skin and clothes.
"You're late." Emotionless and cold, his voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had been present since you entered his office. Swallowing thickly, you finally meet his eyes, and immediately regret it. His expression is hard, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes which usually hold a tenderness whenever he looks at you are dark, and swirling with a storm of fury. Zayne is pissed.
Opening your mouth, the apology on the tip of your tongue quickly dies at the sound of Zayne's exasperated sigh. "If you're planning on apologising I'd suggest you save your breath. I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to whatever feeble excuses you plan on giving." His harsh tone hits you like an avalanche, burying you in the disappointment that is practically radiating from him. "I've warned you time and time again to be careful, to prioritise your safety and yet you seem determined not to listen. I've lost count of how many times you've limped into my office. You refuse to listen to my advice yet you come to me whenever your recklessness results in another injury. Tell me, do you insist on continuing this foolish behaviour until it undoubtedly causes your death?!"
A lump forms in your throat, eyes fixed on the floor as you desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Every cruel word Zayne seethes is another knife to your heart, cutting deep and carving themselves into your flesh. And despite your best efforts, you can't stop the choked sob that escapes your lips. Because it hurts. Seeing the man who has always treated you so gently fuming with rage, steely glare freezing you where you stand, forcing you to endure the brunt of his anger. His words melt together, flooding your mind and making your ears ring as they echo on repeat inside your head. You're so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his disappointment that you don't even realise you're crying until a cold hand touches your cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear. His breath fans your face as he exhales a tired sigh, "come here, let me see your wounds" his voice is softer now, having lost its previous venom but his outburst has left a sour taste in your mouth. You pull away from his touch, shaking your head slightly as you wipe away the tears that stain your cheeks.
"I can take care of it myself...I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further." You utter, keeping your voice steady and void of emotion. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with my reckless behaviour anymore. Goodbye, Dr Zayne." Turning away from him you quickly make your way out of his office, ignoring the calls of your name, determined not to let him see you fall apart completely. With each step you can feel your heart breaking more, bleeding out and flooding your chest with every crushing word Zayne spat at you. You're not sure where you're heading, vision blurring with tears, you just know that the last place you want to be is with Zayne.
#love and deepspace#zayne#zayne love and deepspace#zayne x reader#lnds zayne#lnds#angst#zayne x you#lnd
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Chapter 23: Extreme Makeover Backyard Edition
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 9.1K
Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! Angst, Cursing, Nudity, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Depression, Mental Health, Brief mentions of graphic death, Brief mentions of graphic torture, Mention of gore, Mention of death, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA, Fluff, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.
Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Reader POV
You fall on your hands and knees in the soft grass of Legend's front yard, falling from the sky like a comet as it's glow fades and burns for the last time before striking the earth. You don't remember how you left Stan's apartment, don't remember flying here, don't feel anything, not the humidity that comes with the rising sun, not the cold kiss of dew against your skin, all you feel is the cold creeping numbness that trickles through your veins.
The memories of what you did come in flashes, but they do nothing. They do not evoke remorse nor pain, they haunt you, but do not bring tears to your eyes.
You open and close your hands, letting the blades of grass crush beneath your fingertips, but you don’t completely comprehend where you are, or how the hell you got here. All you feel is weakness tugging at your every muscle, threatening to drag you under the rising tide. You felt electrified, but so tied at the same time, everything and nothing. What happened seemed centuries ago and also seconds ago.
There was no anger, no remorse, no pain, no horror, no shock, there was nothing, only the chill that clung to your skin on the warm summer morning. You could see Stan’s death in your mind, watch his body collapse in on itself under your power and yet it did nothing to you.
You're not sure of anything anymore. Who you are, who Rosemary is- everything you knew is gone and you're not sure what's left behind, not sure what will come crawling out of the shell you were now. You knew you should be afraid, but another voice in your ear whispered so should they.
Someone grabs you by the shoulders, hauls you up off the ground, raising your gaze from the wet grass.
Ben looks furious, mind you, he always seemed to be angry when it came to you. You wondered if that was because he loved you or if it was because the two of you were fated to kill each other one day.
Or maybe it's a healthy combination of both.
He's wearing his jeans again, his dark hair falling forward into his eyes that burn with the force of his rage, but as soon as he sees the dried blood coating your cheeks, hair, and body, you watch worry begin to spark behind his glowing green eyes.
You register that deep down his anger and worry comes from a place that he'd hidden from you for eighty years, his love for you, the love that he was no longer hiding. But the chill still rose in your chest like the first frost of winter.
"Fuck." Ben mutters, moving his hands along your body, boldly looking for injuries, but he doesn't find any. "What the fuck happened? Why did you leave?"
You don't answer him, instead you take in a shallow breath, filled with the smell of fresh cut grass and Ben's musk. You're trying to find your voice, but it's difficult for you.
"Y/n are you alright?" He asks it, firmly gripping you by the shoulders, trying to shake you back into reality. You can hear the way the anger in his voice has shifted to something else.
"It's not mine Ben." Your voice is no more than a whisper as you stare blankly at him.
"Whose is it?"
You can't answer him, the only thing in your mind is Stan's words to you, the secrets he kept for forty years coming to light, the terrible things that he and Vogelbaum did. You want to tell him, tell him about what you know, but you can't find the words, can't find the thoughts to follow them.
"Sweetheart?" Ben furrows his eyebrows together, tilting your face to look at him. His hand softly strokes against your cheeks not understanding why you’re acting like this. “Are you alright?”
His voices sound like you’re underwater, a murmur, a buzz, just a shadow of the deep rumble you love so much, the voice you thought you'd never hear every again.
Ben says your name again, with such urgency that it snaps you out of it for only a moment. The smoke clears, but what’s left barely has the strength to cling to him as you collapse into his chest. Your body shakes uncontrollably, tears soaking through his thin t-shirt, unable to do anything else, but clutch him tighter against you.
"He's our son Ben. They stole my-" You can't find the words, can't find your voice, it sounds hollow. "Stan he and Vogel-." But your voice breaks again and you shudder against Ben's chest, the numbness coming back to drag you under.
Ben doesn't hesitate, he picks you up as if you weigh nothing, tucking your head under his chin as he goes and turns back towards the house. You barely register his picking you up, can’t seem to focus on anything, breath coming in shallow gasps, body still shaking. Ben tightens his arms around you as if trying to comfort you as he walks through the front doors.
“Is she alright?” Rosemary’s voice is close, but you don't raise your head from Ben's body.
“Fuck, there’s so much blood.“ Hughie adds and you can imagine him standing beside her, his eyes wide.
Guess that means he survived Mindstorm.
Your only hope was that Lou was already in bed, that she wasn't watching Ben carry you soaked in blood through Legend's house.
“It’s not hers.” Ben replies gruffly, still moving towards the staircase. He wasn't stopping and you were thankful for that, you didn’t want to talk to anyone and didn’t want to have it out with Rosemary. You were so tired, tired of fighting and of trying. You didn’t want to yell at her, didn’t want her to yell at you, all you wanted was to slip deeper into the darkness.
"Shit, she's just as fucking unhinged as Soldier Boy is." Butcher mutters under his breath wherever it is he's standing.
“Wait mom talk to me-“ Rosemary tries again.
“No.” You murmur into Ben’s neck. Stan’s revelation rings in your ears once more, betrayal momentarily clawing its way from the pit before the cold feeling comes back to drag you under.
Because it felt like she had betrayed you. All these years you thought that Vought left the two of you alone, but no, it was a lie. And if she'd done that, what else had she done to ensure your freedom?
“Please-“ She sounds broken, and it strikes something inside, because she's never sounded like that before. Rosemary was strong, stronger than you ever were.
But then the word makes the memory of Stan’s body snapping and twisting beneath your control come roaring back, his pleas for the mercy he didn’t deserve exhaled on his dying breath, as you turned him into nothing more than a lump of flesh.
You gasp, another shudder shaking through your body and you don’t answer and don't raise your head.
"Wait Ben-" She says his name, but Ben doesn't stop.
"She doesn't want to talk right now." Ben's tone is controlled, but you can hear the trickle of his rage just on the edge of his inflection. "And I'm not going to make her." He continues walking down the stairs and Rosemary does not follow.
Ben doesn’t put you down on the bed, instead he takes you to the adjoining bathroom. It’s bigger than your bedroom back at your apartment with a walk in shower big enough for five people to stand in, a giant vanity with two sinks, a jacuzzi, and a bathtub big enough for three. Legend never spared any expense when it came to that sort of thing.
Ben slowly places you on the vanity but when he pulls back you grab the front of his shirt. “No.” You breathe suddenly terrified. The terror of Ben leaving cuts through it all, followed by a wave of horror and fear.
If he leaves they’ll come for me again. They’ll come take me or Lou.
You were afraid to be alone, didn’t want him to go, not after everything that happened.
“Shhh.” Ben soothes you, brushing your hair back, “It’s alright sweetheart I’m just getting a washcloth.”
You relent, hand unfurling from his shirt, and he comes back with it, wetting it with warm water before he begins to drag it over your face as gently as possible. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, but you don’t move, you only stare at a point over his left shoulder not really comprehending what’s happening.
What happened to Stan comes back in flashes, black and white photographs followed by the bits of conversation that unmade you, the revelations that would haunt you for the rest of your life.
Ben sighs. “Well. I don’t think this is helping at all.” He throws the washcloth into the sink and gently cups your chin, turning your gaze on him.
You blink a few times to focus your eyes.
“Look sweetheart I know you don’t want me to leave, but you gotta get in the shower. I can’t get it all with this washcloth and the last thing I want is to put you in bed covered in blood.” He searches your gaze trying to make you understand what he was asking but you don’t respond.
He leans his forehead against yours. “Honey please you gotta say something. You’re scaring me.” Ben’s eyes meet yours, wide and for the first time in years you see genuine fear.
You let out a shallow breath, but don’t say anything. You can’t find your voice. Instead you gently touch his chest just over his heart. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough for Ben.
Ben closes his eyes for a minute as if trying to make sense of it all. “Okay.” He breathes, opening his eyes again to look at you, care and concern charging the air between the two of you. “Can I take off your clothes?”
You nod once, eyes still focused on the white tiled wall behind him.
“Okay.” Ben gently pushes the leather jacket back from your body. It falls back on the counter in a bloody heap, staining the white countertops with flecks of dried reddish-black blood. “I need you to stand up for me sweetheart.” Ben says, holding you firmly by the waist and pulling you off the counter.
You stand there for a moment, unsteady on your feet, staring blankly ahead of you.
“Arms up.” Ben whispers.
You raise them above you head and Ben removes your shirt and bra before moving to your pants. “Hold on to me.” He places your arms around his shoulders as you step out of your shoes, pants, and panties.
If you’d been in your right mind maybe you would have worried about this moment, worried about Ben seeing you naked again after all these years. He’d only ever seen you the one time, but somewhere deep down registered that this was different. It wasn’t sexual. There weren't any expectations and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. This was Ben keeping his promise and taking care of you the way that he always had.
He steps over to the bathtub, running his hand under the stream of water to check the temperature.
"Come on.” Ben gently leads you over, your small hand in his and helps you step over the side of the tub and into the warm water.
Steam rises around your body, but the water feels lukewarm. Your gaze levels at the water that streams from the spout on the edge of the tub, not looking up at Ben as he switches the water to the handheld shower head.
"Tilt your head back for me honey." Ben murmurs, touching your chin with your free hand to tilt it back. "Eyes closed."
You do as he says and feel the water trickle through your hair and down your back, followed by the gentle scrub of Ben beginning to work shampoo through the strands. He works quietly, catching the suds that threaten to fall into your eyes. Your hands are folded in your lap, eyes still closed, feeling the steady way he cleans your hair and then your face.
As you sit there the memory of everything that happened with Stan begins to trickle in, causing an uncontrollable shudder to shake through your body. Ben's ministrations were doing little to make the cold feeling dissipate, if anything you could feel it sinking into your bones.
"It's alright sweetheart, I'm almost done." Ben says, and you feel his thumb stroke against your cheek for a moment before he continues to wash your hair.
"Sit here for a second. I'm going to go get you some clean clothes."
You open your eyes and watch him go. The water in the tub is red now, the last remnants of Stan's blood scrubbed clean from your body.
The fire would destroy any evidence that you'd been there and washing the clothes that you killed him in should take care of any other problems.
When you're dried off and in your own clothes, you stand in the bathroom and catch a glance of yourself in the mirror. You look hollow, broken, eyes miles away, skin a little paler than normal. You don't look like yourself, but you also don't feel like yourself.
"Come on, let's get you to bed." Ben says and you feel him pick you up again, carrying you to the bed as if you weigh nothing.
You mechanically go through the motions of getting under the covers, pulling them up almost over your head as you curl in on yourself, making yourself as small as possible. You shut your eyes to try and make the images of what happened go away, but you can't fight the ebbing darkness that comes to welcome you home. It's familiar. The same one that you fell into when Ben broke your heart and you thought he died. The pit was opening beneath your feet once again, and you wondered if you'd be able to pull yourself out this time.
Ben changes into a pair of faded sweatpants, before he crawls into the bed behind you under the covers, putting his arm up over your waist to pull you into him. You turn in his arms so that you're chest to chest and can bury your face into his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent, trying to rid yourself of the images and of the things you learned a few hours ago.
"It's alright Sweetheart, I'm right here." You can feel the rumble of Ben's voice in the palms of your hands where they curl against his soft shirt. The weight of his arm over your waist is familiar as is the heat of his body, the warmth you expected to wipe away the cold feeling that crept along your spine drowning everything else out of your head.
It's quiet for a few moments. Ben's hand is gently trailing up and down your spine, but sleep is miles away for you.
"I'm trying real hard not to be mad at you Sweetheart, especially when you're like this but-" Ben sighs, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "You lied to me. What were you thinking going off alone and-" His tone has shifted into more of a growl, the one he gets when he's about to yell at you.
If he had yelled at you, you wouldn't have reacted, you were just so tired of everything, couldn't focus on anything.
Ben's body tenses. It was as If he was physically trying to hold himself back from being upset, but you couldn't answer him. It had seemed like a good idea when you went, seemed right, but now you weren't sure.
What you had learned changed you, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to go back to the way you were.
He's quiet for a minute, before finally he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you bury yourself further into his chest. "I love you." He murmurs. "I promise I'm not going to go anywhere."
But you barely hear him, the only thing you hear is the low buzz of fluorescent lights and Vogelbaum's voice telling his staff to keep you quiet.
Soldier Boy POV
He didn’t know what to do. In all the years he’d known you, Ben had never seen you like this. He’d seen you upset, angry, sad, but never this.
It had been three days since you came back covered in blood, three days of you laying in bed refusing to speak, curled up into his chest.
Ben had tried to get you to eat something, but when you wouldn’t do it by yourself he had to spoon feed it to you, as if you couldn’t remember how to eat.
It scared him.
Ben hadn’t ever felt fear like this before in his entire life, but now, seeing you so distant and cold, he was terrified. He worried that you’d never come back.
Mindstorm had told him the truth about Homelander and as angry as Ben was about that, he couldn’t understand how Homelander was also your son. He’d never heard you say anything about them taking something from you for genetic testing, never spoken about willingly giving up your genetic material.
So then how the fuck did they get it?
There was something sinister that danced on the edge of his mind, something that seemed too horrible to consider, something that meant that Ben had failed to protect you, had failed to keep the promise he made eighty years ago.
But deep down Ben wondered if it was true, because as much as he knew you hated killing people, this seemed different than you usual reaction.
He held you closer to him, curving his body around your back as you slept soundlessly. You were holding on to his hand while you did, fingers entwined with his, holding it against your chest while you found some peace.
Ben was honestly waiting for another nightmare. Each time you’d fallen asleep over the past three days you’d woken up gasping for air, shaking uncontrollably, with tears rolling down your cheeks. Ben did what he could, brought you into his lap and held you tight, reassuring you that it was okay, that it was only a dream.
He was trying not to be angry, but he was. He was furious when he got back to Legend’s two days ago and discovered that you were gone, that you’d left to go off and do God knows what with Homelander flying around. Rosemary refused to tell him where you were only told him that you left but that you’d be back. Ben hated that you made him wait around like a fucking woman waiting for her husband to come home.
He had intended on yelling at you, at making sure you knew how pissed off he was that you did the one thing he told you not to do, but then he saw you land in Legend’s front yard looking like you had taken a shower in someone’s blood and he couldn’t. Not when he feared that the blood was yours and not when he saw how broken you were.
Ben had loved you for a long time, understood you, saw how strong you were, saw that you always spoke your mind no matter what, and to see you like this was… petrifying. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t understand how something you learned could effect you this much.
He too was still reeling from the revelation that Homelander was his son, felt an even greater sense of betrayal because Vought should have let him give the team to his son, pass it off like a king giving up his throne. And after the night that he had spent with you all those years ago, Ben was ready to give it up, to walk away and give you the life that you always wanted away from the spotlight.
Ben figured that Stan had told you Homelander was your son, and maybe that’s what this was. Ben had been dreading the conversation with you when he got back to Legends, the conversation in which he was going to have to tell you that Homelander was your son too. He didn’t want to hurt you all over again with news like that.
I guess I don’t have to.
Ben thinks to himself listening to the soft beat of your heart, pushing his face further into your hair where it hangs over your shoulders. But he's not sure that this is better.
When he wakes the bed is empty.
“Sweetheart?” Ben says looking around the bedroom. He strains his hearing to see if you’re in the bathroom or upstairs but he doesn’t hear you. Fear grips his heart.
Fuck. Where did she go?
Thunder shakes the house, rattling the windows as Ben looks around the room, brief flashes of lightning illuminates the vintage furniture, but you aren't sitting on anything. The sliding glass doors on the back wall of the bedroom are open, allowing rain to sweep through onto the carpets, water flooding towards your now cold side of the bed.
Shit.
Ben all but jumps out of the bed and rushes to the sliding glass doors, looking beyond into the darkness of Legend’s backyard. Lightning skates across the night flashing bright white, and catching where you stand in the grass. You’re looking up at the sky, soaked to the bone, but seemingly unnerved by the weather.
“Sweetheart?” Ben shouts over the sound of the thunder, but you don’t move. “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”
“It’s not a nightmare.” You murmur into the storm, your eyes still focused on the sky, looking up at something that he can't see.
“What do you mean?” Ben gets closer to you, his feet sinking into the wet grass, rain saturating his clothes every second he stands out there with you. Ben was trying to understand, was trying his best to do what you needed, but he was worried that he was failing, that maybe he needed to take you to a hospital. He wasn't sure how to explain that to anyone if he did take you to one.
If anything he thought that you'd want to talk things out with Rosemary, but you hadn't wanted anything to do with her at all. That was the most surprising, that you didn't want to speak to her, didn't want her around. She had tried to come down to the bedroom, but you hadn't looked at her, you'd only clung tighter to Ben and said no. He wanted to know why, what Stan had told you to make you not want anything to do with her.
He was happy that Lou hadn't come down with her, he didn't want Lou to see you like this, didn't want it to haunt her the same way it was haunting him. He had heard Lou ask about you when he was laying in the basement beside you, and she had found him in the kitchen getting you something to eat and had hugged him tight and asked where you were. There were tears in her eyes when she did so and Ben told her that you weren't feeling well, but that he was taking care of you. There was a hand-drawn card on your bedside table from her filled with a picture of Lou holding out a bouquet of lavender to you that she asked him to give you.
“It really happened.” You close your eyes, head tilted up at the sky.
Lightning crackles across it, striking close to where you're standing, but you don't move an inch.
Ben stops mid-step. Your words sink into his soul, burn against his ribcage, anger surging up to replace the chill of the rain that clings to his skin. Because it meant he failed. It meant that the promise Ben made to you all those years ago was worthless, that he'd failed to protect you.
He thinks about all the time he wasted with other women, chasing after them, ignoring you. He thinks about all the moments he should have spent with you instead.
Maybe I would have figured it out if I wasn't so damn selfish. If I hadn't fucking cared about those stupid movies, or commercials, or the shitty interviews. I failed because I didn't put her first and I allowed this to happen.
“Stan told me.” You continue. "I wasn’t supposed to remember, but my mind knew. It was trying to tell me all these years but I just ignored it. Fucking pushed it away because I thought my mind was messed up from living this long. But it really happened."
“When?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that he said they did it when you were on location shooting a film. That they were too afraid to take me when you were still there.” You're still not quite looking at him.
Ben felt the words like a punch to the gut. Why did I ever shoot any of those stupid films? Why didn't I take her with me? Why didn't I make up some stupid reason why I needed her there with me? Why didn't I tell her sooner how much she meant to me?
Ben remembered the first time you had the nightmare in front of him, he had just gotten back from shooting a film overseas, one that he could barely remember only that he literally had sand in every crevice of his body after each day of shooting. He remembered how happy he was to see you when you answered the door of your small apartment, how you smiled at him, but you seemed more tired than usual. Ben had missed you more than he knew, he had tried to call while he was away, but you hadn't picked up. He remember thinking that was odd. You always picked up the phone or at least always called him back, but you hadn't.
“They knew I’d say no. Knew that I wouldn’t want to raise a child under Vought’s watchful eye and instead of respecting that, they-" You stop mid sentence, your body has begun to glow bright purple, not just your eyes, there's a thin film of purple radiating out from your body, tracing your outline with a heavy hand, glowing brighter than the lightning that flashes across the sky. "Stan wasn't even ashamed. He was proud of what they made. Proud of what they did to our son."
As soon as you utter the word 'son', the ground begins to shake under Ben's feet, grass shreds in the air all around him, and the storm grows worse by the second. There's a terrible cracking sound and the trees on the edge of Legend's property snap, loosing their limbs to flashes of purple energy that wash away into the darkness with the force of your power.
Ben could feel the same power trying to push him back from you, push him inside the house, but he fought it, continuing to take more steps towards you.
“After all these years he wasn’t afraid of me. He was afraid that you would show up and make him pay.” Ben can see your body shake. “Everyone was always just afraid of you. All those years I worked so hard to make sure you didn’t kill anyone and for what? So they could take advantage of me?”
Your body begins to rise off the ground, glowing brighter and brighter. Until Ben almost has to look away, his body still being forced backwards. In all his years of watching you use your powers, he's never seen you do anything remotely like this. This didn't seem like just telekinesis and Ben wondered who else had killed you over the years, if it had happened before and you just hadn't cared to tell him, or if it had happened in the years he'd been away.
"Sweetheart please." Ben tries to say again, but it's swallowed up in the howling of the wind.
"All those years I gave Vought everything. I let them dress me, tell me what to say, inject me with that shit. I was everything they wanted me to be, and they used me just like I was a fucking doll for them to play with!" Ben can hear your teeth clenching together in rage, your powers spiking again so that now there is shredded earth, grass, and trees, whirling around the two of you swirling together in a vortex that flashes with purple energy. "But no more. They're all going to pay."
"Y/n-"
You were still rising off the ground getting further and further from Ben's reach and he was scared. He'd never seen you like this before, never seen you lose control or seen you this angry. Sure he pissed you off and you'd occasionally throw a couch around the room, but this was almost insane.
Fuck I should stop pissing her off.
Ben could feel his own rage surging in his chest when he understood exactly what Vought took away from you, when he understood exactly what Vogelbaum had done. But at the same time he was ashamed that he hadn't been there for you, that he hadn't been able to protect you from them, and that he hadn't known the first time you had that fucking nightmare and woke up screaming when he was in bed beside you.
"Sweetheart!" Ben finally shouts, grabbing your hand. As soon as his skin touches yours he feels like he's stuck his finger in an electrical socket, as if the energy from your body jumping into his is almost painful, but he doesn't let go. He couldn't lose you to this, whatever the hell this was, wouldn't allow himself to lose you again.
Your glowing purple eyes flick to his. "Are you going to tell me that I shouldn't do that?" Your voice is cold. "That my revenge isn't as important as yours?"
"No." Ben shakes his head. "It's important. It's justified. I hate that they did that to you, that I wasn't there to stop them. That I didn't understand until now."
"It's not your fault what happened to me." You shout back, eyes flashing bright purple. "This isn't about you. This isn't your fight!" The vortex swirls faster around the two of you now, blurring everything beyond. "This is about what I need to do!"
"Yes it is!" His hand tightens in yours. "It is my fight if it involves you. I love you and that's what it means. It means us working together-"
"I don't need you to protect me! I am strong enough to do this on my own. I am so sick of people underestimating me and what I can do."
"Y/n please, listen to me!" Ben pleads. He could feel you slipping away and it scared him more than anything he'd been through in his entire life. He wasn't afraid to admit that. The look on your face and the display of power was so different than the person he knew.
You watch him silently, body glowing brightly in the night, floating off the ground as you stare down at him.
"I don't want you to do this alone." Ben says. The storm was still raging, thunder shaking the ground, lightning surging all around him. "I'm asking you to let me help you. Please."
"What?"
"You say that I hide what I'm really feeling, but you do too. You still hide things away from me. You think that you have to be perfect, controlled, some version of yourself that has everything together all the time, but you don't." Ben gently tries to pull you down an inch from the sky. "You've done that since we were kids, always done what you think is expected of you. That's why you almost married that asshole, because you were afraid to just let it go. So I'm asking you to do that now, to let go of all of it, because I promise that I will be right here for through every step of it."
"But-"
"I know I made promises when you chose me, and I'm sorry I let you down, I'm sorry that I let this happen, that I wasn't able to protect you from them." Ben's voice breaks and for a moment he sees a flash of the two of you in your bedroom the night that he asked you to come with him, how young and innocent you were, how much you cared for him reflected in your eyes. "So I'm promising you this now. That I will protect you, that I won't let anything happen to you and that you never have to be alone ever again. Because I love you. So please, just let go and let me in.
The whirlwind slows around the two of you, still ripping up the ground and the grass in the backyard.
"I have to be in control." You say in almost whisper.
"Why?" Ben asks.
"Because if I'm not I don't know what will happen!" You snap. "Someone dies, or you leave again, or they come to take Rosie or Lou away and I can't-" You shake your head, the glow on your body fading for a moment. "I'm not strong enough-"
"Sweetheart, you don't have to be." Ben says, and this time he pulls you from the air so that your bare feet swish in the grass again. His hand falls under your chin to raise your face to his. "That's why I'm here. You don't have to do this alone anymore, you don't have to carry this all on your shoulders. I am here and I am not going anywhere."
"But-"
"Please. I'm asking you to give me your pain, your anger, your burdens, your sorrows. Give me all of you. It's not going to scare me away." Ben whispers, taking your face between his hands. "I know that in the past I haven't been as dependable, but nothing is going to scare me away. I love all of you, even the pieces of yourself you keep from me, that you think you have to, to keep me here with you."
Fuck I sound like a pussy, but it's true. She's all I have and all I've ever wanted. And why shouldn't I say this to her? It's what she says to me. It's what she tells me and I believe her. I believe her when she says that I can rely on her, that I don't have to be strong all the time, that I can break.
He searches your face, brushes his thumbs across your rain soaked cheeks. I just want her to know that she can too and trust that I'll be here for her.
The vortex stops, the pieces of earth, trees, and grass falling to earth, the purple fading from your eyes as they do. You're no longer glowing, no longer a beacon in the night, you're just you, the woman that Ben loves more than life itself, and the woman that he thought he would never have ever again.
"I love you too." You whisper leaning into him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to lean your forehead against his.
He can feel the curves of your body against him, your wet clothes sticking like a second skin, hair stuck to your head, but you're just as beautiful as you always have been. And Ben understands that this time, he's not going anywhere, that he's going to stay with you for the rest of his life, and nothing can keep him away.
Reader POV
"Mindstorm told me." Ben says dragging his hand up your arm. You were laying on his chest in the bedroom, hair still wet, but now wearing dry clothes.
The residual thrum from your use of power was still charging through your cells, but lessened. Honestly you didn't remember going outside, didn’t remember standing in the storm, didn't know how long you were out there before Ben came out.
You were glad he did. You weren't in your right mind when you were out there, and if he hadn't come out you were sure that you were going to charge Vought yourself, tear it down and send it to hell where it belonged. You still wanted to, but you wanted Ben to do it with you. He was right, you didn't have to do it alone, and you didn't want to.
You nestled further into him, remembering what he shouted outside, remember how he held your face with the storm raging around him. He looked so afraid. You had only seen him look scared a handful of times in your life, but out there in the storm was different. It shocked you back into reality, brought you back from the pit, made you feel like you again for the first time in days.
And what he said hauled you further out of the darkness. You had said it to him countless times since he came back, that he didn't have to hide away what he was feeling from you, but for him to say it to you meant that he was listening. To you, Ben saying that made all of this more real, that he really wanted every part of you, that he loved you as much as he said.
The storm still raged outside, thunder occasionally shaking the windows, and lightning flashing behind the closed curtains, but you stayed curled up against Ben. Your head was tucked under his chin, arm wrapped over his bare chest. He hadn't put a shirt back on after the two of you changed, but you weren't complaining about that, there wasn't anything to complain about when it came to that. He was just so wonderfully warm, that you didn’t think you would get used to it. You also hoped that you didn't turn radioactive because of him, but you being here with him, laying on his warm chest made it worth it.
"Did he know about what Vogelbaum did?" You whisper.
Ben's muscles tense beneath your body when you ask that question. You knew that it hurt him, that it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, but you didn't blame him for that. Even if he had been around, you knew that Vogelbaum would have figured out a way to do it, to get around him. And you didn't like it when Ben felt like he failed, it made you think about all the terrible things that his father used to yell at him when he was a kid. Ben had told you bits and pieces, over the years, and it was enough to make you want to travel back in time and kill his father yourself.
Honestly, you thought about killing him all the time when you weren't a supe as well.
"No. He didn't know that. All he knew was that Homelander was our son." When Ben says the word son he hesitates as if it's difficult for him.
It was also difficult for you, understanding that you had another kid and one that you didn't have anything to do with for forty years was hard. You suddenly understood how Ben felt about Rosemary.
"I should have known." You mutter into his chest.
"What do you mean?"
You sigh loudly. "At the premiere, Vogelbaum was pushing for me to come to the lab, said he was working on raising the "next generation of heroes" or whatever. And then Stan tried to come by and get me to do the same thing after you died, but I broke his nose."
"I remember." Ben mutters.
"What do you mean you remember?" You sit up to stare at him.
Ben raises an eyebrow. "I might have been there with Countess, but do you really think I wasn't listening to everything that was happening around you? He was dancing with you, I was making sure that everything was okay." Ben clears his throat awkwardly. "I mean I know that there was a lot happening that night, but I still wanted to make sure that you were okay."
"I wasn't."
"Yeah I-um- I know." His eyes flick away in shame.
"Ben?"
"Yeah?" He murmurs.
You gently turn his face back to look at you, fingertips under his chin. His green eyes are downcast, brows furrowed, lips pulled down into a frown. You knew how much he was still beating himself up for everything that happened in the past, and it was difficult for you to pretend that you didn't still feel the sting. But you knew he wasn't going to do it again, you believed that.
"It's okay. We're starting over. Just you and me." You brush your thumb over his bearded cheek. "No one else. This time what we're doing, it's different, it all feels different. Don't you think so? I mean I still love you just as much as I always have, but I-" You could feel yourself blush just a little, you weren't sure if Ben could feel that too.
"I know. It does." Ben whispers gazing at you. His fingers push back the strands of your hair that have fallen forward into your face. The way he's looking at you is the same way he did the morning you woke up on his chest after you slept together for the firs time. "I love you too Sweetheart." His lips find yours, gently pulling you up further on his chest so he can kiss you deeply, show you how much you mean to him, and you can’t help but smile into his mouth, feeling warm and happy for the first time in ages. His love dragging you out of the darkness that loomed over you and consumed your heart when Stan told you the truth about Homelander's heritage.
You sit up, folding your legs beneath you, pulling Ben's right hand into your lap, gently tracing the lines with a finger tip, noting the rough callouses that he'd developed over the years. You weren't really sure what to say next.
Ben sits up so that he's leaning towards you. "Are you feeling better?"
"A little." You continue to trace the lines. His hands were so much bigger than yours, everything about Ben was big, but you liked his hands, mostly because how small yours were when you held his. "I think destroying Legend's backyard was just the right amount of therapy."
"That was a little much, but I'm glad you're feeling better. I was-" Ben swallows. "I was really worried about you."
"I know." You whisper. "It's never been that bad before. The last time I got close was-" You stop mid-sentence.
"Forty years ago?" Ben asks quietly.
You nod.
"I figured." Ben scoots closer towards you so that his thigh is brushing against yours. "I'm-"
"No." You squeeze his cheeks, eyes narrowing. "No more saying sorry. Not again."
"Okay." Ben's gaze is still apologetic. He waits for a minute, watching you in the silence. "What are we going to do about Homelander?"
"I don't know."
It was the truth, you had no idea what to do with your supposed son. You had seen the coldness in his eyes, heard about the horrible things that he was doing to other people, the horrible things he had threatened to do, and you'd seen the way he didn’t seem to care about human life.
Then again maybe I can't judge him, not after what I did to Stan. You think, your frown deepening. Stan deserved what I did to him and my only wish is that Vogelbaum somehow survived getting his head fucking blown off so I can make him pay.
"Do you think we should try to talk to him?" Ben asks.
"I don't think that's possible."
"Why not? He's our son, somewhere deep down he's got to be willing to do that." Ben's voice rumbles up through his chest. "Maybe they brainwashed him into the person we saw at Herogasm, maybe he's just being controlled and told what to do just like we were."
"I don't think that’s possible."
"Why not?" There's an urgency in his eyes that is unfamiliar to you, almost as if he's pleading for you to understand.
But why? Yes he's our son by blood but we don't know anything about him. We haven’t been in his life for forty years, we don't have any connections to him.
"You saw how he was at Herogasm. How he was almost happy to kill Butcher, how he was happy when he tried to kill you and me. I don't know what kind of person is okay with that. I mean you and I have killed people and we feel remorse after, or there's some kind of justification, but there was something in his eyes, it's almost not human. It's predatory, it's-" You shake your head trying to comprehend it. "I don't know what the fuck Vogelbaum did to him, but there's something inside Homelander that's not able to be saved."
"You don't know that."
"Ben, do you think that I want to believe that? To believe that our son is not a good person?" You drop his hand from your lap. "It's taking everything I am not to go to him, not to try and work this out. I keep trying to tell myself that maybe all he needs is family, but I don't know."
"My old man said that blood mattered. That it was the only thing that defined family-"
"Now you want to listen to your dad?" You sigh looking at Ben who is frowning at you. "We both know that he's not exactly the best role model."
"Well neither am I okay?" Ben snaps, his eyes flashing. "Maybe he just needed someone and there was no one there. I mean I wasn't there for Rosemary, but she had you and she turned out fine!"
"That's not your fault Ben. It's not your fault that you weren't there. You can't forget that they sent you to Russia to replace you with him."
"I'm not forgetting I'm just saying that they did the same fucking thing to me!"
Your next thought fizzes to a stop in your brain. What is he talking about?
"What are you talking about?" You try to reach for him, but he pulls back from your touch.
"They force fed him all that shit about what it was to be an American, they made him a supe, they brainwashed him with all my old fucking films." He spits. "But in the lab when we got the serum the first time, they did the same thing to me. They told me that I was going to be a god, that I was going to be the symbol that America needed to get through the war, that I was everything that would save America from destruction."
"Ben." You say again, this time taking his hands and he doesn't pull away. "Ben listen to me. You were older when you became a supe, we both were. You knew what reality was, you knew what the world was like when the scientists started spouting all their crap. You were old enough to understand. Homelander was raised in a lab, he didn't have a family, he didn't have friends. He was told that he was a god every day and he's not. He was raised to believe that he was something more than human, something unbeatable."
"But-"
"They told me that too." You push his hair back out of his eyes, trailing your fingers against his forehead. "That I was a god, that everyone would want me, would look at me and understand that I was beyond human. And at the beginning maybe I believed it for a few years, but that doesn't make him anything like you or like me. He's twisted, his mind is gone, any semblance of humanity he had has been warped away into something dark. He never had any light to begin with."
"You don't know that."
"I do. I can see it in his eyes. I saw it when I fought him at the Herogasm. There's nothing left to save. He's done terrible things."
"I have too." Ben mutters.
"No. You lost control, we all do. It's unrealistic to think that it won't happen, especially not for people like us who have lived this long, but him? He did those things of his own volition, because he believed that he should or maybe it was because he believed that no one could stop him." You cup his cheek, pulling his face forward into the space between the two of you. "The things you've done you feel remorse for. I was there for you every time you messed up. I saw what it did to you, saw how broken you were when you hurt someone."
"Because I'm a hero." Ben sighs.
"Messing up once or twice does not make you less of a hero Ben, it makes you human." You lean your forehead against his, cupping his cheeks with your palms, feeling the way his beard tickles against your skin. "But Homelander, I don't think that there's anything human left."
Ben's hand comes up to hold on to your left wrist. "Then what do we do?"
"I don't know." You sigh. "I wish I did. If you really want to try to talk to him, we can, but I don't think that it's a good idea."
"He's still our son."
"He's our blood, but I don't think that makes him our son." You murmur.
You really didn't know how to deal with any of this. You wanted to believe that there was some semblance of humanity left in Homelander, but you didn't think that there was. You hated that Ben believed that he was like his son. Maybe that was some weird misogynist thing and Ben kept thinking like father like son in his head, but there wasn't any way that Homelander could be anything like Ben. Ben wasn't around for him, wasn't in his life, but maybe.
Ben pulls you back down on his chest once more, and you nestle into him once more, your head directly over his heart, the warmth of his skin comforting against your cheek.
"I think Noir knew." You breathe, tracing your hand over Ben's right pec.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Stan kinda hinted that he did, said that Noir was obsessed with me after I saved his life-"
"When did you save his- oh." Ben sighs.
"I think I should have seen that coming, given how much he kept showing up to my sparring sessions, the interviews, even some of the commercial shoots I had he seemed to always be around." You frown with a sigh. "I can't believe that I didn't know he was stalking me."
"What?"
"Stan said he kept breaking in to my apartment when I wasn't there, that he stole my necklace, you know? The one my dad got me for my birthday-"
Ben sits back so he can look you in the eye. "You're shitting me right?"
"No. That's what Stan said." You shrug. "Might have been just Stan trying to take some of the heat off, but that's what he said."
"That piece of shit." Ben almost growls. You can see the flash of jealousy and possession in his eyes that makes your heart thud a little faster in your chest. He clears his throat. "You-um- you never liked him right?"
"What?"
"The two of you were never that close?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Well you did save his life."
"Ben I've saved plenty of people from your temper. But no, I never liked him that way. Irving was sweet, but he was always so eager to prove himself to Stan it was just sad."
"Good."
"Why?" You sit up further, smirking at him. "Does that make you jealous? For you to think that Noir and I were together?"
Ben's eyes darken. "Watch it Sweetheart."
"Watch what?" You bat your eyes innocently. "I'm just asking a simple question."
"You keep poking the bear and you're not gonna like what happens."
"Poking the bear?" You snort sitting up and poke him in the ribs. "Are you the bear in that scenario?" You poke him again with a wicked smirk.
"Yes."
"Hmm. Well I think you're all talk. Because I have definitely poked you several-"
You're on your back in a second with Ben hovering over you, his green eyes shining as he flashes a roughish grin at you. One of his hands is pressed into the pillow next to your head, the other is at your waist, slipping beneath your t-shirt to rub circles over your hip bone with his thumb. "You were saying?" His voice is the low rumble that makes it hard for you to think.
You clear your throat. "I was saying that," You thread your hands behind the back of his head, working your fingers into his hair. "You have nothing to be jealous about."
"Really?"
"Mhhmm." You smile sheepishly. "Because it's always been you. No one else. Not Howard, Not Noir, just you." His hair is soft between your fingertips, his gaze unbreakable.
Ben returns your smile and collapses on top of you. You gasp out a breath, in a loud 'oof' sound as he does. His arms go around your waist and he buries his head in your chest breathing deeply. "I like it when you say that." He murmurs, turning his head so he can look up at you from your chest, with a smile that catches you in your heart.
"I know." You continue to scratch your fingertips through his hair.
"Sweetheart?"
"Yeah?" You breathe as you close your eyes, comforted by the weight of his body on top of yours. It was familiar, almost like he was a weighted blanket that took all your anxiety away. You felt safe with his arms wrapped around your waist, as if no one could touch you. You needed that now, needed that after you learned that without Ben someone had taken you from your home.
"I know that I can't say that there hasn't been anyone else." He whispers. "But you're the only one who mattered. You're the only woman that I've ever loved, and I swear that as long as I live I'll never love anyone else. You are all I've ever wanted and everything I thought I'd never have."
"You have me Ben." You whisper, beginning to fall asleep. "You always have, you always will."
And with those words you drift into the first fulfilling sleep you'd had in days, wrapped in the warm cocoon of Ben's love, allowing it to send you under into oblivion.
A/N: I know this one was mostly fluff and talking, but I thought that the reader deserved that after everything with Stan, and also after she well -you know- made a tornado in Legend's backyard. We're going to pretend that no one else heard it. 😂
As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)
And if you'd like to read something a little more bantery then try my series: Take A Chance On Me
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Hi! I'm still feral for these two, would you mind giving us some art of them in their later years together!?
Hello angel!!!!
Sorry it’s taken so long to respond🫶🫶 but I wanted to draw some new art for this ask💓
We have: Sebastian and Eloise trying out their new fancy camera with a selfie, pictures of them with their daughter, and finally…idk I just always felt like this drawing is when they’re a bit older💓
I want to take this ask as an opportunity as well to talk a little about how I imagine their future (I have no chill & you can ignore this and just enjoy the art if you want😇).
I am a COMPLETE pantser - I never know how a chapter’s going to end when I start writing it (I always just have a few scenes I know I need to include to keep the plot moving forward). Although I have different *big* scenes I’m always writing towards, and themes/plot elements I’m always foreshadowing (shout out to @elliecutte for catching *almost* all of my hints and appreciating my general no chill😆), IM STILL NOT 100% SURE HOW I WILL END THINGS !!! 😳 I have a lot of endings I see as possible, and I think soon it will become more clear to me what will work the best💓
HAPPY ENDING:
Eloise and Sebastian become Unspeakables. I have a LOT of thoughts on this profession that could be its OWN post, and I feel like Unspeakables are generally specialized in one or two departments, but as their interests/research change they also change.
Eloise becomes an Unspeakable in the Mind and Death departments, with the occasional foray into Time. Her ancient magic is connected with all of these things (my version of AM is NOT like the game) & the Department of Mysteries is one of the only places that gives her any useful information about these things. Plus she thinks too much (it IS her hobby after all😆💓) and is very introverted so a hermit job like this is a perfect fit.
Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable as well, but I feel like it takes him a long time to specialize in anything, if he ever does. I just feel like becoming an Unspeakable is the adult equivalent of sneaking into the Restricted Section🥹🫶
They grow old together (I won’t explain TOO much) & have a lovely little family🥹 at least one daughter that they both dote on. Sebastian had an amazing childhood (idyllic until it wasn’t), and wants to give his daughter the same, and Eloise works hard to make sure their daughter feels the love that she never had growing up🥺
When Sirius is burned off the family tree, Eloise and Sebastian take him in🥹🫶 (they’re like 100 years old but WIZARDS LIVE LONGER…) The same happened to her all those years ago, and she wants him to know that his whole family hasn’t abandoned him.
Eloise LOVED her nieces - Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa - when they were younger, but as Voldemort becomes more powerful & people realize WHAT he’s doing, she has to separate herself from them. Her heart breaks seeing Bellatrix go mad, and seeing Narcissa engaged to a Malfoy out of obligation😔 (iykyk)
I haven’t thought any more about happy ending but I think it’s fun to think about how their future story might weave in with the actual canon events, ESPECIALLY since Eloise is a Black🥹💓
SAD ENDING:
After Sebastian gets his hands on Slytherin’s relic, it really starts to consume him and makes him even MORE obsessive than his natural tendencies - I imagine it similarly “talking” to him like Slytherin’s locket/horcrux did in Deathly Hallows (😳)
Eloise is deathly afraid of the changes she’s seeing in Sebastian and steals it from him (he would never willingly give it to her ESPECIALLY if it starts to feel like a precious item to him)
BUT the relic triggers the latent Black Family Madness in her - the madness that afflicts almost every woman in her family since…🤭 - and she herself starts to lose touch with reality. Her body and soul are already destroying themselves between the curse and the ancient magic inside of her, and the relic is what triggers it in her.
Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable, focusing on the Mind, in a desperate attempt to find a cure for his Eloise🥺
He never gives up his research, and sometimes when he comes home she is lucid and they talk about his research - otherwise, he just loves and takes care of her.
(He’s never successful in finding a way to reverse what he feels he caused in the first place - his ambition and single-mindedness is, to him, the reason why all of this happened)
Honestly who knows if I end their story either of these ways😌 I just love thinking of AUs and different endings and I have a few others I’ve considered as well!!! And whatever endings I don’t write will be immortalized on this blog and in my art as well🙏
#thank you for the ask!!!!#I have no chill when I answer these things which is why it takes me so long to answer them🥲#ngl I think the sad ending is quite romantic#but maybe I’m too chicken to follow through/what I have planned could change a lot & it won’t make sense anymore#and like I’m not COMPLETELY evil I like seeing them happy too🥺🥺#and I also really love the Black family & all of the canon characters…OFC I had to insert Eloise in that family somehow#and her mother was the PERFECT age !!!!!!!!!!! (according to the family tree)#I ALSO have a lot of thoughts on the Gaunts and actually how Ominis’s blindness prevents him from going insane like the rest of them#seem to have done by the time Tom Riddle’s around#(something something blind people can’t hallucinate so they can’t get psychosis)#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanart#hphl#hogwarts legacy mc#hogwarts legacy oc#eloise babbit#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow fanart#sebastian sallow x mc#hogwarts legacy fanfic#also Sebastian’s childhood is just based on mine#I grew up in a TINY village and spent all day running outside and having adventures like crazy or readinf like crazy no in-between😆💓#ask
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Oh no 😅 what’s Simon gonna do once he realizes he cares about the reader and craves non-sexual intimacy with them, too? Is he still gonna be mean, are they all gonna have a talk, will he change his behavior? Will he grow to love reader?? I’m obsessed with your poly!ghoap!!! 💕I also love the other one with reader and Gaz, too. Great job!!
simon’s been distant since he realised that he’s jealous of the affection you give johnny. he can’t say he doesn’t understand why you keep your distance from simon, especially seeing as the last few times he’s had you pinned up against the fridge with a snarl.
it’s actually kind of terrifying that simon’s hopped off your back a bit, not acting all threatening when you two cross paths in the apartment like he normally would. holding doors open for you, he even woke you up when you had accidentally slept through your alarm??
johnny’s in the shower one evening, his screechy voice belting out rock tunes. you’re in the kitchenette, making yourself lunch for the next day, occasionally stealing glances from simon, who’s sat on the sofa watching a shitty soap opera. whilst also listening to a Soap Opera.
you bite the inside of your lip nervously, trying to think of idle conversation. “so… i know you and johnny have a work event tomorrow. do you want .. me to make you two lunch?” you squeak out, a chill running down your spine as his head whips around and he stares right at you. with one powerful lunge, he’s up off the sofa and striding towards the kitchen island, large hands reaching out to grab a knife.
fuck, this is how it ends. you’re gonna get stabbed to death by your lunatic roomie and johnny’s too busy singing in the shower to hear you. fuck—
“pass us the cheese.”
??
you furrow your eyebrows, looking up at simon. his facial expression is blank, piercing blue eyes just staring right at you. he grunts, extending his hand and curling his fingers up, motioning for you to pass him the block of cheese.
“i said pass us the cheese then. i wanna help.”
when johnny finally steps out the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, he swaggers into the kitchenette with a comfortable stride. his thick eyebrows raised curiously at the sight of simon prepping sandwiches. except, there’s a fuck tonne of sandwiches on the island. he looks at you with a confused expression, which makes you giggle. “simon’s helping me make lunch for tomorrow.” you say gently, looking up at simon with a small smile.
simon’s lips twitch up ever so slightly, something he’s never done around you before. he clears his throat as he grabs some tupperware containers, shrugging as he begins to store the excess sandwiches. “dunno… might have gotten carried away. reckon we’ll all be eating sandwiches for dinner for a couple’a days.” he murmurs, smirking up at you when you laugh at his comment.
it’s a start, and you and simon are both content with that.
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melodies of love
description: you and your childhood best friend theodore nott have been through thick and thin together, so when he tells you he's leaving, paired with a confession, it changes everything.
pairing: childhood bsf!theodore nott x fem!reader
contains: mentions of parental death, latent fathers, late-night love confessions, theo plays piano!!!!!, musician!theo, modern au!
song rec: symphony by clean bandit ft. zara larsson- “life was stringing me along, then you came and you cut me loose."
w.c: 2.0k
an: i have been waiting so longgggg to use the middle photo of lorenzo.
the room was quiet, the only sound being the occasional rustle of the curtains dancing with the night breeze. the bed beneath you was warm and comforting, the familiar creaks of the old wooden frame a gentle lullaby. you laid there sideways, your legs hanging off the edge, the mattress slightly indented from your weight. the soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the walls with a golden hue, casting a serene scene of shadows and light.
you felt the anticipation build in your chest, your heart beating slightly faster as you thought about the stories theo might share tonight. the late night talks had been your ritual since you both discovered that insomnia was a shared burden. you'd lay in the darkness, whispering your secrets and fears into the night, knowing that the other was always there to listen.
the bond between you and theo was forged in the fires of shared pain. both of you had fathers who were more like shadows than guardians - present but never really there. the cold shoulder from your father had been a harsh reality you learned to navigate early on, while theo had to deal with the tyranny of his own. it was your mothers' gentle spirits that had truly bound you together. lost too soon to the merciless grip of illness and a tragic accident, their memories remained a beacon of warmth in the cold, unforgiving world of your fathers.
you remembered the particularly bad nights, the ones where the darkness outside was only a reflection of the turmoil within. when the house was too quiet, and the sadness was too heavy to bear alone, you would sneak out of your room, tiptoe down the stairs, and out the back door. the cool grass beneath your bare feet was a comforting reminder of the outside world that waited for you beyond the walls of your father's frigid domain. the night air was a balm, carrying the scent of the blooming lilac bushes that lined the fence separating your yards.
you would slip into theo's house, the soft tinkle of the piano in the parlor guiding you like a lighthouse beam through the stillness. his mother had been a pianist before her illness took her, and the piano remained, a silent sentinel of happier days. theo had taught himself to play, and his music was the voice that soothed your soul. the melodies he conjured in those small hours were bittersweet, a testament to the love and loss that haunted your shared past.
his room was always the same, a sanctuary filled with books and knickknacks that reflected his boundless curiosity. the walls were plastered with posters of faraway places and people, a silent declaration of his desire to escape the confines of your small town. the bed was unmade, the bedspread a tapestry of wrinkles from his restlessness, but there was always a spot next to him where you felt safe. you'd slide under the covers, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the chill that had followed you from your own room.
his eyes would light up when he saw you, a smile playing on his lips as he whispered a quiet "hey." theo had the kind of smile that could melt the iciest of hearts, a trait you envied and adored. you would share your day's troubles with him, the mundane and the profound, and he would listen with a rapt attention that no one else ever seemed to have. his eyes never left yours, as if by looking away he might miss something important, something only you could tell him.
his voice was low and soothing, a balm to your soul on those dark nights. you felt as if you could tell him anything, and he would understand. the way his fingers danced over the piano keys, the gentle strokes and crescendos, mirrored the tumultuous symphony of emotions that played within you. as you talked, he would often reach out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, giving it a squeeze that spoke of his silent support.
this night was no different, except for the anticipation that filled the air. the whispers of a secret untold. you had felt it brewing for days, a heaviness in theo's eyes, a sadness that even his smile couldn't quite hide. you waited, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing, for the moment when he would finally confide in you.
you blinked your eyes open, and there he was, leaning over you, his elbows resting on the mattress. the smile on his face was a gentle curve, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. the lamp's glow painted him in a warm light, making his dark hair seem almost golden. his eyes searched yours, looking for the understanding he so desperately needed.
"i've got something to tell you," he began, his voice low and hesitant. "it's big, and i'm not sure how you're going to take it."
you sat up, scooting towards the headboard, pulling your legs up to your chest. the anticipation grew like a storm cloud in your chest, thick and heavy. "okay," you murmured, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come.
theo took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "i'm leaving," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. the words hung in the air, thick and palpable. your heart skipped a beat, the blood rushing to your ears, drowning out the world outside of your little bubble.
you felt the mattress dip as he sat down beside you, his body warm and solid. "what do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling. his hand found yours again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"i've got a scholarship to a school in the city," he explained, his voice gaining strength. "for music. it's a full ride, and it's a chance to get out of here, to make something of myself."
the words hit you like a wave, crashing over the sandcastle of your quiet life. theo, leaving? It was unthinkable. your eyes searched his, looking for a hint of a joke, a twitch of his lip that would give away the punchline. but all you saw was sincerity, and a hint of fear.
"theo, that's… that's amazing," you managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice steady. Inside, you were a whirlwind of emotions - joy for his opportunity, sadness for your impending loss, fear of the unknown. "when did you find out?"
he sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "a few days ago. i've been trying to figure out how to tell you." his eyes searched yours, looking for the acceptance he so desperately needed. "i leave next week."
the news was a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. your mind raced with questions and objections, but all that came out was a soft "next week?" the urgency of the situation was stark, the reality of his departure so close you could almost taste it.
his grip on your hand tightened. "i know it's a lot to ask, but… i want you to come with me." he said, his voice filled with hope and desperation. "i can't do this without you. you're the only one who really gets me."
you felt your world tilt on its axis, the gravity of his words pulling at you. the idea of leaving your home, your father, your life behind was both terrifying and exhilarating. the thought of starting anew, of escaping the shadows of your past, was something you had never dared to dream.
you took a deep breath, trying to organize the chaotic symphony playing in your head. "theo," you began, your voice shaky, "i can't just leave. my dad…"
his expression fell, the hope in his eyes dimming. "i know," he said, his voice soft. "but you can't stay here forever. you're just as trapped as i am."
you felt the weight of his words, the truth of them pressing down on your shoulders. you knew he was right, but the thought of leaving was too much to bear. "i… i don't know if i can do that, theo," you whispered, the lump in your throat growing.
his eyes searched yours, desperation flickering in their depths. "please," he said, his voice cracking. "i don't want to leave you. i need you there with me."
you felt your chest tighten at the raw vulnerability in his voice, a feeling you hadn't heard from him in years. theo was the strong one, the one who held you together when your world fell apart. but now, he was asking for your help, for your company. it was a revelation that shook you to your core.
his hand was still in yours, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand. the warmth of his touch was grounding, a reminder that you weren't alone in this tumultuous sea of emotions. "theo," you whispered, "i don't know if i can."
his eyes searched yours, desperation etched into every line of his face. "please," he begged, the word coming out as a hoarse whisper. "i need you there." the raw emotion in his voice made your heart ache.
you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "theo," you began, your voice trembling, "i…"
but before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you. it was soft and gentle, the kind of kiss that held a thousand unspoken words. it was a kiss that spoke of a love that had grown over the years, a bond stronger than friendship, a connection that had always been there but had remained unacknowledged.
you pulled back, your eyes wide with shock. "theo," you whispered, your hand still trembling in his.
his face was inches from yours, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. "i know it's a lot," he said, his voice soft, "but i had to tell you. i love you. i've loved you for so long, and i can't just leave without saying it."
you sat there, frozen, his words echoing in your mind. theo, your best friend, the one who knew you better than anyone, was confessing his love for you. the revelation was as surprising as it was overwhelming. your heart was racing, trying to keep up with the thoughts that bombarded your brain.
you looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in their depths. they were filled with a vulnerability that was as stark as it was beautiful. theo had always been the one to wear a mask, to hide his pain behind a smile. but here, in the soft light of the bedside lamp, his defenses were down, and you could see the raw, unfiltered version of the boy you had grown up with.
his confession hung in the air, as potent as the scent of the lilac bushes outside. it was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, the silence a living, breathing entity that wrapped itself around you both. you felt your heart pound in your chest, a symphony of emotions playing out in your mind.
slowly, you reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the stubble that had formed since the last time you had seen him. your eyes searched his, looking for the certainty that you both needed. "theo," you whispered, "i love you too."
his face lit up like the first light of dawn, the sadness and fear fading away. "you do?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
you nodded, your heart pounding. "yes, i do."
his smile grew, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a blanket. "so, you'll come with me?" he asked, hope dancing in his eyes.
you took a moment to let the reality of his confession sink in. the thought of leaving your father was daunting, but the idea of being without theo was unbearable. "yes," you said finally, "i'll come with you."
his eyes lit up, and he leaned in again, this time the kiss was filled with a mix of relief and joy. it was a kiss that spoke of a future filled with promise and hope. "i'll make it worth it," he whispered against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. "i'll make sure you never regret this."
you felt a warmth spread through your chest, his words like a balm to your fears. "i know you will."
edited 8.20.24
#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theo nott imagine#theo nott x reader#theo nott fanfiction#theo nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x fem!reader#theo nott x fem!reader#slytherin boys#slytherin#harry potter fanfiction#lorenzo zurzolo#lorenzo zurzolo x reader#lorenzo zurzolo x you#lorenzo zurzolo x y/n#lorenzo zurzolo x fem!reader#slytherin x reader#fan fiction#fanfic#theodore nott fluff#theo nott fluff
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A Song of Ice & Shadow
Part 15
You can read previous chapters here.
Summary: Y/n slowly begins to recover, gradually warming up to Azriel and Cassian again. She agrees to train with Cassian but only under a few conditions.
A/N: As promised, here’s the next chapter with more Az interaction. Enjoy!
WC: 4.8K.
As days went by, Y/n’s nightmares became less frequent. Cassian only spoke a few words to her whenever they crossed paths, mostly greetings, casual questions about her day, how she’s doing, and nothing more. No snarky comments, no mention of training.
She hadn’t seen Azriel for a while either. He was mostly on missions, ones she knew nothing about, and when he was back, he either stayed locked in his room or left just before she arrived.
Somehow, whenever she’d enter the dining room, she’d catch the lingering trail of shadows and find a half-empty plate or cup. He always seemed to know when she’d come and left before she could ignore him or say something to hurt him. It was almost like he was avoiding her just as much as she was avoiding him.
She began to miss him, and that was dangerous.
But at least her life had improved. She was eating again, going to the library, chatting with Gwyn occasionally, and knitting. Being left alone had softened her, just a little, though she wouldn't admit it to herself.
On one of those nights, she had finished a book that left her feeling content for once. The idea of sleep didn’t appeal to her yet, so she headed to the roof for some peace, fresh air, and a view of the slumbering city below.
She did not notice Azriel training in the corner of the roof at first. As usual he was as slick and silent as the shadows, his form blending into the dark. This time, his shadows did not inform him of her arrival. When he saw her, he moved slightly, making an accidental noise that earned her attention.
“I didn’t know you were back,” she remarked, her voice softer than usual, though her brows rose in faint surprise.
Azriel paused, lowering his weapon. “Only for the night.” His body remained tense, debating whether to leave to stay.
“Don’t you ever take a break?” she asked, stepping further into the open air.
“I do when I need one,” he answered simply.
“You’re going to work yourself to death.” Her gaze flicked over him, taking in the weariness etched into his features. “You look like hell. You should get some rest.”
It was her way of not being cold to him, and they both knew it.
Azriel tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you cared.” Though low, his tone carried a faint chill, guarded as ever.
“I- it was just a suggestion,” she clarified quickly, glancing away. “If whatever you’re doing is important, you need to take a step back and rest. If your head isn’t in the game, it’ll cost you a lot. And I know you don’t like to disappoint your High Lord.”
“I’ll rest when I feel the need to,” he insisted, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer. Then he added, almost too softly. “Thank you for your advice.”
She didn’t know if he was being sincere or mocking her; his face betrayed nothing.
Y/n shifted on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. Just as she turned to leave, she noticed his shadows sneaking toward her.
Her gaze followed them instinctively, and her lips quirked slightly. She had missed them too. Noticing his shadows and her focus, Azriel sighed before speaking again. “This had nothing to do with me. Sometimes they act on their own.”
“Relax, Shadowsinger. It’s fine,” she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
At that, his shoulders eased a fraction. He studied her for a moment, his hazel eyes searching her face. Something about her was different, her voice, her behavior towards him, the way she seemed healthier. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied lightly, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve.
“How are things?” he asked, careful and hesitant, as though afraid she might retreat behind her usual defenses.
“Not bad,” she said simply, her gaze drifting out over the city.
“But not good?”
“I’m still a prisoner,” she quipped, a faint edge to her tone.
“Be glad you’re not one of my prisoners,” he countered, softening a bit with a faint smirk, attempting to joke.
“Right. I almost forgot. You’re supposed to be ruthless with all the torturing you do.” Her lips curved upward, though she bit her lower lip to suppress the full smile.
“I’m glad you remembered,” he replied, his tone mock-serious. His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. “But even if you were the most wicked High Fae alive, I promise you’re safe from me.”
“Hmm, even if I became a witch?” she questioned, her voice playful.
“Are you planning on becoming one?” he asked, raising a brow.
“I am,” she teased, shrugging. “But I still need someone to teach me how to channel that much power.”
He didn’t know if she was being serious or joking. “Just give me a heads-up when you do.”
“Why? So you could lock me up?” She couldn’t hide her amused smile anymore.
“I told you, you’re safe from me,” he repeated firmly. “But Spymaster, remember? It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I were the last to know.”
“Fine,” she relented, amused. “If I become a witch, you’ll be the first one to know, I promise. Happy now?”
“Very,” he said, an actual smile, soft and rare pulling at his lips.
Her own faded, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She missed that smile. She missed him, their little talks. For a moment, her expression faltered.
“What is it?” Azriel asked, noticing the shift.
“Nothing,” she murmured. “I should go. I have a long day tomorrow, and so do you. Good night, Shadowsinger.”
Of course, she’d pull away, run away from him the minute she started feeling something. The minute she felt her walls cracking.
“Good night, Troublemaker,” he whispered, though she was already gone.
The next morning, Azriel was gone again. But Y/n found herself in a rare good mood. She’d finally decided to train with Cassian.
This time, she arrived at the training ring dressed in Illyrian leathers, though not the ones she’d worn during the war. She’d burned those custom-made leathers after the war, unable to even look at them without being reminded of all she’d lost. If they hadn’t been custom, she wasn’t sure she could handle seeing others wearing the standard ones.
Cassian, shirtless and already wielding a sword, stood in his usual spot. When he noticed her approach, his brows shot up in surprise. He didn’t want to get his hopes up yet, so he asked, “Here to watch, or to join?”
“I’ve come to play,” she replied, heading for the weapon rack.
His surprise turned into an amused chuckle. “We should practice your movements before you go anywhere near a sword.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she quipped, ignoring his comment as her fingers skimmed over the handles of various blades before selecting the lightest one. If she was going to wield one in front of him for the first time, she wasn’t about to embarrass herself. She knew she needed to work on her arm strength, but she could manage for now.
Cassian grinned, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “It’s for your own safety, but go ahead.”
Sword in hand, Y/n dragged the blade slightly along the ground as she stepped up to him. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are,” he said with a confident smirk, lowering into a defensive stance.
She did not give him a chance to prepare. In one swift motion, she disarmed him, the tip of her blade hovering just below his throat.
Cassian blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Impressive. Let’s go again. I wasn’t prepared.”
“I thought you said you were ‘whenever I was’,” she replied, feigning innocence as she shrugged.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to admit, I was taken by surprise.”
“In battle, your opponent won’t wait for you to get ready. I might not be the strongest or the fastest, but if and when it comes down to a fight, I can hold my own,” she said, lowering the blade.
Cassian retrieved his sword, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful as he studied her. “I see you know some moves. Let’s go again.”
“I’m not a fool. I know I can’t defeat you,” she admitted. “I’ve seen the way you fight. I just took advantage of the situation.”
“Never underestimate your opponent,” Cassian said, his tone carrying a hint of respect. “I failed at that, I admit. Where did you learn to do that?”
She ran her fingers along the blade’s edge, inspecting it. “I took self-defense classes a long time ago. And a few sword-fighting lessons too. I practiced from time to time.”
His brows furrowed as he considered her answer. “Why did you let me mock you all this time? Let me believe you couldn’t fight?”
She gave him a cool look. “You never asked. You presumed, just like everyone else.”
His gaze softened, a note of guilt creeping into his voice. “I apologize for that.” His voice was surprisingly serious. “Does anyone else know you can fight?”
“A few Illyrians,” she replied,her tone casual as she inspected the hilt of the sword. “And I believe your Shadowsinger does.”
Cassian’s expression darkened slightly. “Is that why Devlon warned me to keep you away from his warriors? You beat them up?”
“I didn’t beat them up,” Y/n corrected, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say they tried to show me some moves, and I showed them a few of my own.”
Cassian let out a hearty laugh, though his curiosity wasn’t fully satisfied. “Wait- your sisters don’t know?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
“That is none of your business.”
He sighed but didn’t press. “So, why do you refuse to train then? If you know how to fight?” If he wasn’t intrigued before, he was now.
“That’s also none of your business.”
Cassian snorted, clearly exasperated. “If you hate me and can’t stand to train with me, you could always train with Az or Mor.”
“No.” Her reply was quick, sharp, leaving no room for debate. “Listen, I don’t hate you, but I just don’t like training.”
Cassian crossed his arms, his grin returning. “Is that you complimenting me?”
“You didn’t let me finish,” she shot back, rolling her eyes again. “Although I don’t necessarily hate you, training with you would be unbearable.”
“Is it because you wouldn’t be able to focus on training and rather be too distracted by my handsome face and impressive physique?” Cassian teased, flexing his arms playfully.
“In your dreams,” she retorted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Engaging in conversation with you is frustrating enough. You’re just insufferable. You emanate this… bright aura around you. Your view on life is just-“
“Positive?” Cassian supplied, amused.
“Exactly.”
Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “How do you manage to turn every positive trait into a negative one?” He couldn’t fathom how her mind worked.
“The same way you turn negative ones into positives.”
“Why, though?” he pressed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“None of your business.”
“Is that your answer to everything, anyone asking you a personal question?”
“None- possibly..”
“I can already bet on the answer to this one, but why? Why don’t you want people to know you?”
“And that conversation has already been too much for my brain to handle in one day. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the door but halted, glancing back over her shoulder. “Because I’m in a good mood today, I’ll say something nice to you. Even though training with you would be unbearable, having your body on full display would make it slightly less unpleasant.” She shrugged.
Cassian froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and delight. Then he grinned like a fool. “I’ll take that as a win.”
The next day, when Y/n arrived at the training ring again, Cassian was already there waiting for her, his arms crossed and a curious glint in his eyes. As she approached, he tilted his head, studying her. “So,” he began as she stopped a few paces away, “How do you want to do this?”
“First,” she said, holding up a finger, “I’ll only do basic muscle training. No sparring, no fighting exercises.”
“Why not?” he asked, feigning disappointment.
“I don’t like having an audience when I’m showing my moves.”
Cassian frowned, his brows drawing together. “Afraid someone will learn your fighting style and use it against you?”
“No,” she shot back, giving him an exasperated look. “I just don’t take well to certain kinds of criticism when it comes to this.”
He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I won’t judge. If anything, I might offer some advice, but that’s it.”
“Still,” she said firmly, “I don’t feel ready for that yet.”
“Alright, basic exercises it is,” he agreed, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade.
“Second,” she added, “I’d prefer it if we trained in silence.”
He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Way to kill the mood, Y/n.”
“Want me to train with you or not?” she countered, crossing her arms.
“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll do as you say.”
With that her training journey officially began.
The nights were different. While Cassian trained with her during the day, Y/n would sneak to the rooftop under the cover of darkness. There, with no eyes watching, she practiced her stances, her movements, and her sword work.
It was after a few nights of this routine that Azriel landed silently on the roof after a mission, only to be met with a sight he never expected to see. Azriel wasn’t surprised by many things, but when it came to Y/n, this female never ceased to catch him off guard. He came to find her focused, her attention wholly on the invisible target she struck with her sword.
Not wanting to disturb her or break her concentration, he remained quiet in the shadows.
After a few minutes, she stilled, her instincts sharpening. She could sense something lurking nearby. She reached for a dagger and, without hesitation, flung it towards the shadows. Azriel dodged by mere inches, stepping out into the faint light with his hands raised in surrender.
“It’s just me,” he said calmly, his tone steady as his golden eyes met hers.
Her shoulders relaxed, though her tone remained sharp. “I thought I made it clear I don’t like being watched.”
“I remember,” he replied. “It wasn’t intentional. I just arrived and didn’t want to interrupt. You seemed… focused.”
Y/n eyed him suspiciously but let it slide. “I’ll let it go this time.”
Azriel’s lips twitched faintly, almost teasing. “I didn’t know you could wield a sword.”
“I’m not a professional, if that’s what you think,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I thought you already knew. You made it seem that way when you asked me about the Illyrians.”
“I thought you used your fists,” Azriel replied smoothly. “And your legs.”
“You’re not wrong,” she replied with a small smirk. “Do your shadows really know all that?”
“And more,” he said, a subtle smile playing at his lips.
Y/n tilted her head. “Then, with all your knowledge, I assume a lot of people want you dead?”
“You assume correctly,” Azriel said in his naturally quiet tone, a hint of amusement threading through it.
Silence lingered between them before he gestured to her sword. “Can I give you a suggestion?”
“About what exactly?”
He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “May I?” he asked, nodding toward the weapon in her hand.
After a brief hesitation, she nodded, handing him the sword. His fingers grazed hers as he took it, the fleeting contact sending an odd jolt up her arms. The shadows around him seemed to still, as if observing.
“You’re holding it like this,” he said softly, his hands steady as they demonstrated her current grip along the hilt. “It’s not wrong, but there’s an easier way to balance the weight without tiring your arms.” His movements were fluid, sure, as he adjusted his hold, showcasing a more efficient grip with ease.
When he handed the sword back to her, his scarred fingers brushed hers once more, the touch lingering just a moment too long. The shadows curled subtly between them, as though curious about the interaction.
“Do you want to give it a try?” he asked, stepping back.
“With you watching?” she muttered, hesitating.
Azriel’ tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Yes. Is that a problem? I can leave if you’d prefer.”
“Yes, no-” Y/n stammered, quickly shaking her head. “I just… I never train in front of anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Your brother asked me the same question a few days ago,” she replied, her tone guarded.
“And what did you tell him?”
“That I don’t like being criticized when it comes down to this.”
Azriel studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “But that’s not all, is it?”
She didn’t reply, her grip tightening on the sword as she started at the ground. After a moment, she shook her head.
“I won’t ask again,” he said gently. “Not unless you want to talk about it.”
She looked down at the sword, grateful he didn’t push.
“So,” Azriel continued, breaking the silence. “Do you want to try that move, or would you like me to leave?”
“You can stay, Shadowsinger,” she replied, the words slipping out before she could reconsider.
“Thank you for your generosity.” He gave a playful bow, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.
She shook her head, rolling her eyes as a small smile softened her expression.
Adjusting her grip on the sword, she tried the move he’d demonstrated, surprised to find the technique was indeed easier and more natural than before.
Azriel stepped back and unsheathed his own sword, taking a fluid fighting stance.
“What are you doing?” she asked, brows furrowing.
“You forget, I usually train at night,” he said, his smile widening ever so slightly as the faint glow of starlight danced along his blade. “Don’t worry, I won’t spar with you…unless you want to?”
“No.” The answer came too quickly, her voice a little too sharp. Her heart stuttered as heat crept up her neck. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate,” she added, cursing herself for the words as soon as they left her mouth.
A crease formed between his brows as confusion flickered across his face. “Why is that?”
Because my focus would be elsewhere, she thought to herself and was glad he couldn’t read minds. “I haven’t sparred with anyone in a long time,” she said instead, dodging his question. “The last time I did was during my lessons.”
Azriel regarded her for a moment but didn’t push. “The offer still stands. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
She scoffed. “I don’t think so. You’re a hard male to find.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “If you tell Cass or Rhys, I’ll come meet you.”
“For you to leave your all-important work just to come spar with me? I’m honored,” she said, mock-gasping as she placed her free hand over her chest.
“For you, I’d leave anything,” he replied quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Azriel froze, his heart almost stopping as his eyes widened slightly. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
Y/n blinked, her breath catching. She wasn’t sure if she'd heard him correctly, or if she wanted to. Ignoring the comment, she focused on the conversation at hand instead. “I’ll think about your offer.”
Azriel exhaled quietly, relief briefly crossing his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that kind of fear before. What’s going on with me? he thought to himself.
With a nod, he turned back to his training. Y/n did not run away from him like she always did. This time she stayed and they trained in silence.
The sun was already rising by the time they stopped, its first rays spilling across the roof. Y/n groaned softly, lowering her sword and stretching her sore arms.
“I probably won’t be able to train with your brother today. I can’t feel my arms.”
Azriel sheathed his sword, his lips twitching. “I can vouch for you if you want.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’d be weird.”
“How so?”
“Because the General is the General,” she replied, as if it were obvious. “If I go up to him and say I can’t practice today because I’m sore, he’ll ask why. And then you’d show up and say, ‘because we were practicing all night long.’” She arched a brow. “How do you think that would sound to him?”
Azriel’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly and for a moment, he actually looked flustered. “I see how that might sound…” he muttered. “So what are you going to tell him?” he asked, regaining his composure.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’ll probably just tell him I was practicing all night. He doesn’t need to know all the details.”
“Right,” Azriel nodded. “That’s for the best.”
“Besides,” she added, starting to ramble, “I think he’d be a little jealous. Seeing as I told him I wasn’t ready to train with him yet, and then we went and did exactly that.”
“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he agreed, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.
“Alright, then. I’ll see you when I see you.” She turned to leave.
“Good night, Troublemaker,” he murmured, watching her go.
She paused at the doorway, glancing back at him. “Is that your new nickname for me now?”
Azriel smiled faintly, his shadows curling lazily around him. “I’ve had it for a while.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Sweet dreams, Shadowsinger,” she replied softly before slipping out of sight.
Azriel stood there for a moment longer, staring at where she’d disappeared. His hand grazed the hilt of his sword as her parting words echoed in his mind. He let out a slow breath, then finally turned to resume his training.
—
“I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but I have to ask, do you still have your powers?” Cassian asked during one of their sessions.
Y/n’s movements faltered, her brows knitting together. “Why does it matter?”
“Because if you do, it’s dangerous to keep them unchecked.”
She huffed, resuming her stance. “Even if I did still have my powers, which I’m not saying I do, nothing’s happened so far.”
“As you said, so far,” he pressed, his voice firm but not unkind. “But we all know what happens when you’re overwhelmed.”
“Let’s just get back to training,” she snapped, her tone leaving little room for argument.
“Y/n, it’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt.”
“I didn’t say I have powers,” she retorted sharply. “Just drop it.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened, his worry clear. “Just promise me, if you feel them coming back, you’ll tell me.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” She halted mid-movement, fixing him with a glare. “What has gotten into you?”
“Nothing, I’m just worried.”
“Well, don’t be,” she said, her voice colder now. “I’m not a ticking time bomb.”
“That you know of,” he replied, his tone edging toward frustration.
Y/n’s patience snapped. “Seriously, what is your problem?”
“Nesta still has her power,” he admitted quietly.
Her expression darkened, and her voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Of course. Fucking Nesta! Why do you keep thinking that whatever she might do or have, I might as well?”
“Because that’s usually what happens,” Cassian said, pressing further. “You both are hotheaded, with tempers to match. You both took something from the Cauldron. You both have a way of pushing people away and saying hurtful things. Not to mention, you both shared similar bad habits after the war.”
“Do not compare her to me,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s a much better person than I am, and we’re far more different than you think us to be.”
Before Cassian could reply, Y/n stormed off, leaving their session unfinished.
Y/n went straight to the library to unwind, her heart still pounding from the argument. Gwyn greeted her with a warm smile and recommended another book.
It wasn’t long before Y/n seelted into her usual spot, tucked away in the quiet depth of the library— the same place she had first discovered its solace. Bryaxis was no longer there, so that level should be safe, or so she thought.
She was aware Nesta was somewhere nearby, but thankfully, they didn’t cross paths.
She opened the book, letting its pages pull her into another world. But as she read, the quiet began to shift. A voice, faint at first, began to call her name. Again and again, the sound reverberated through the space.
Y/n stilled, shivers crawling up her spine. She tried to ignore it, focus on the words in front of her, but it was as if her body had other plans. Slowly, unwillingly, she stood.
The voice pulled her closer, an invisible string drawing her toward the darkness of the lower levels. Her steps were slow, hesitant, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t resist it. It wasn’t Bryaxis’ voice; she knew that much. This was darker, colder.
She halted just before the staircase. The voice whispered to her still, tempting her forward.
Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around. Her breath caught as she found herself face- to-face with Azriel. Too close. He was too close, his face mere inches from hers. When she took in his features, she realized his breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run all the way to reach her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.
Azriel didn’t answer right away, his shadows swarming protectively around them. His grip on her arm was firm, his other hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side.
“Why were you going down there?” he demanded in his usual subdued voice.
Y/n blinked, the haze that had gripped her moments earlier beginning to fade. “How did you even find- never mind. I already know the answer to that question,” she muttered. “Something was calling to me. Something dark.”
Azriel’s expression turned more serious. “You shouldn’t stay in this part of the library again.”
“Why not?” she asked, her tone curious.
“The darkness is drawn to you like you are to it. Bryaxis might be gone, but there’s still darkness down there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have your shadows follow me?”
“No,” he replied. “It was a mere coincidence.” He glanced around warily. “They’re everywhere, though. And when they felt that darkness, they informed me.”
Y/n’s brows rose in mild disbelief. “You ran here?”
He nodded, reminding her. “We can’t winnow into the library.”
Y/n’s gaze flickered to his hand still wrapped around her arm. “You can let go now.”
Azriel blinked as though realizing it for the first time. He released her quickly, stepping back slightly, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Do you still have your powers?”
Her eyes sharpened at the question, a defensive edge creeping into her posture as she created a distance between them. “Did you talk to the General?”
“No, why?”
She let out a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms. “He asked me the same thing less than an hour ago.”
“I have reasons to believe the darkness was drawn to you because of your powers,” he explained, his eyes scanning her face for answers.“You should be careful.”
“You’re not going to tell me I should learn how to control it or keep it in check or whatever?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“No,” he replied simply. “I learned not to tell you what to do.”
She blinked again, caught off guard by his honesty. “At least one of you finally got the message.”
“Cassian means well,” Azriel said softly, though his tone held a hint of exasperation.
She scoffed. “He has a way of showing the opposite.”
Azriel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “The same way you do when you care about someone?”
Y/n froze, the words landing with more weight than she wanted to admit. She said nothing, just stared at him, the silence between them thick and charged.
Azriel didn’t push further. He simply watched her for a moment longer before his shadows receded slightly, their tension easing. “Stay away from the lower levels,” he said at last. “Promise me that.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Azriel took her silence as agreement.
“Goodnight, Y/n,” he spoke softly before stepping back and turning on his heel.
Y/n remained rooted to the spot, staring at the place where he’d disappeared. Somehow, buried deep beneath her defenses, was the unsettling warmth of Azriel’s concern. Not that she’d ever acknowledge it, or admit how much it lingered.
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Dark Paradise
You try to adjust to a new life, married and living in a manor. But you quickly realize that not everything is what it seems, including your mysterious and devilishly handsome husband, Michael Langdon.
Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, violence, murder, demon!Michael, blood kink, pain kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia
Word Count: 4.2k
You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the dark corridors where shadows dance in your periphery, or the damp smell that makes you feel like you’re underground. It smells of rotting fruit, a slow and lingering decay, almost like death surrounds you.
As long as it doesn’t reach you.
You’re also not sure if you’ll ever get used to the man that haunts these grounds. This tall, dark manor that sits in the middle of nowhere.
He’s not dead, he’s just your husband.
His appearances to you are scarce, only really seeing him at mealtimes and occasionally passing him in hallways.
He’s elusive, mysterious to you in ways you cannot comprehend. Ever since you arrived at the manor, all you’ve had are questions.
For an unknown reason, you can’t remember your life before this place. All you know is you were married off to a man named Michael Langdon.
Sometimes, you have the strangest dreams with a house that feels like the complete opposite of here. One filled with love and light and white walls, and not this frigidness that wraps around you now.
The days almost feel like they go on forever, blending together as nothing surprising happens.
Until one night, you’re pulled out of a peaceful slumber by a piercing scream.
It takes you a moment to blink away the sleep, wondering if it was real or part of a dream.
It doesn’t take long before another one echoes throughout the manor. It’s shrill, a seemingly female scream.
You clutch the soft sheets under you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
You think about whether you should lie back down, ignoring it and going back to sleep. But you don’t think you could even if you wanted to.
Perhaps against your better judgement, you leave your bedroom, with only a candle lighting your path through the dark hallways.
Your white nightgown sways as you step between walls covered in paintings. The dim candlelight casts shadows on the faces, giving them a particularly ghoulish look.
You keep walking, hoping to find some sort of sign of what it is that woke you up. You’re not even sure where the scream exactly came from.
Before you can reach Michael’s room, a chill sweeps past you, extinguishing your candle, leaving you shivering in the dark.
A disembodied voice calls out your name in the form of a question.
“What are you doing out of your room?” he asks.
You instantly recognize the voice, and it stops you in your tracks. You swallow as he steps closer to you. Michael is holding a candle, illuminating the glare on his face.
“I thought I heard something. It woke me up,” you say nervously.
“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his brow furrowing.
“It sounded like a scream. I thought someone might have gotten hurt.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” he asks in an almost mocking manner, a cruel smirk growing on his lips.
“No-.” You sigh, stopping yourself. “No,” you say again, this time quieter.
“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and look under your bed for monsters,” he says, trying to step past you with a teasing grin on his face.
“I know what I heard, Michael.”
He stops, mere inches from your face and he can see the seriousness that settles in your eyes.
It doesn’t stop his own icy blue eyes from growing colder.
His gaze rakes over you before he leans in closer, warm breath fanning over your lips as he says, “you didn’t hear anything, Y/N. Time to go back to bed.”
You think your own breathing has stopped before he leaves you, going back to his bedroom.
That’s when your goosebumps return, Michael taking all warmth with him.
You’ve sat in the library all day, reading by the window as rain hits the glass. You decided that you’ll read every book in this place since you don’t have much else to do. You’re on 28 out of 11,200. Thunder rumbles above you as you turn the page.
Nothing has happened since you heard the scream, helping you to believe that it was either a dream or your sleep-addled imagination. You tried asking your handmaid if she heard anything that night, but she said no, giving you a strange look like you might be going mad.
You quickly shut up about it.
Michael hasn’t brought it up, which you’re somewhat grateful for because if he did, it would probably be to make fun of you some more.
Even if he has been polite enough about it, it’s been difficult to be around him. He’s always had an intense gaze but something about it has changed. It lingers for too long.
You think that’s always been the case. But now you react differently, a heat growing in your cheeks and a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach.
“Are you hiding from me for a reason?”
You practically jump, startled by the deep voice near your ear.
You close your book and look over your shoulder, finding Michael standing behind you. Amusement lights up his face and his hands are clasped together behind him.
“Do you normally spend your time in here?” he asks, eyes scanning the room, finding books from floor to ceiling and a fire raging, keeping you warm.
“Sometimes.”
You stare at him, still confused as to why he’s bothering you. Shouldn’t he be busy with something?
“So why do you seem to be in here more than you used to be?”
He steps over to the chair you’re sitting in, wood creaking underneath him. He looks over your shoulder, reading the title of your leatherbound book.
You swallow, able to smell the rich scent he wears. It’s musky with a dash of sweetness, like a piece of fruit being harvested from the earth.
“Just reading more, I guess,” you finally answer his question.
“Hm, well I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He pauses, like it’s hard to get the words out. “You were obviously shaken, and I could’ve been nicer.”
Even if his apology could be more genuine, at least it’s an apology.
“I also want to give you something,” he says before placing something on a side table near you.
You pull your brows together as you take in the gift.
“A pomegranate?” you ask, moving your gaze to him, eyebrows raised.
He picks the piece of fruit back up, mischief dancing in his eyes. In one motion, he cracks the rouge skin open, revealing hundreds of little seeds.
He gathers exactly four seeds in the palm of his hand, setting the rest of the fruit back down.
Without saying anything, he brings his hand closer to you, offering it as if you have no choice but to accept.
You hesitate for a moment before reaching to grab them from the palm of his large hand.
But when your skin brushes against his, a gasp falls from your lips, an image flashing in front of you.
It’s Michael, but he looks different…wearing different clothes than he wears now, almost like a school uniform.
The pomegranate seeds fall to the floor before you look up at him.
There’s a question in his eyes that almost matches yours. But it’s just a flicker of confusion before it disappears, turning into irritation.
He clasps his hands together again before leaning down to you and saying lowly, “if you make a mess, you must clean it up. Remember that.”
You keep your eyes away from him, not able to look at him. You can faintly hear him walk away, but your mind is too focused on the words that seem to have another meaning to them. A meaning that makes heat swirl inside you.
The sun is out today, but just barely. It peeks slightly behind gray clouds. You’ll take it over nothing, deciding it called for a stroll in the garden.
Except, as you look around, you realize there isn’t much of a garden. The flowers seem to be withering away, drooping without life and leaves almost crumbling to dust.
It must be the lack of sunshine, you think as you frown.
It’s so hard to find beauty in a place like this, instead only finding death and tragedy.
Without intending to, your mind wanders to a certain someone. You suppose not all beauty is lost.
You still have been avoiding Michael to the best of your abilities, still unsure what happened that day in the library.
You’re also unsure of your growing feelings for him. He is your husband, but it’s also true you two never consummated the marriage.
He never wanted to, and at first, you were grateful. But now, as you think of his golden curls and sharp jawline that could have been crafted by the gods themselves, you wonder if it would help ease the tension between you. Maybe it’s what you need to do in order to have a normal conversation with him.
But nothing about him is normal. He might be beautiful, but you can’t ignore the darkness that lies in his eyes and makes up his entire being.
You stop, finding a faded yellow flower sprouting from the ground. You bend down, pulling it up. Standing up, you stare at it in your hand, and you can’t help but wish it was alive.
You sigh, eyes closing, almost in defeat. But when you open them, you can’t believe what you see.
The flower is now a bright yellow, looking like it belongs in a vase full of fresh-cut daffodils.
It’s like the flower was resuscitated right between your fingers, finally getting the oxygen it so desperately needed.
There is no way you did this, so how is this possible?
Dinner is mostly eaten in silence. Some small talk is exchanged but you can tell Michael can barely bare it, gritting his teeth as you ask him how his day was.
Michael enjoys more intellectually stimulating conversation. It just so happens that usually means arguing with you or teasing you about something. So, you’re not very fond of it.
Once the plates are taken away, you think you can finally breathe, ready to take your leave to your room.
Just as you’re getting up, Michael stops you.
“Sit down. You haven’t had your dessert yet.”
“Dessert? We only have that on special occasions,” you retort, sitting back down.
“Well, you didn’t get to finish it the other day.”
You part your lips to question him again, but it’s answered when a maid places a plate in front of you.
A pomegranate split in half sits before you.
Michael seems to be waiting for your reaction when you lock eyes with him.
“What is with you and pomegranates?”
“They’re in season. I just want you try it.”
He leans back in his chair, giving a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Instead, you find a glint there instead.
You nervously look down at the fruit, mulling over what he wants you to do.
You blink and you suddenly see that the red fruit has turned into a human heart, bloody and still beating.
You gasp, eyes widening as you push back your chair.
You look back to Michael, wondering if he sees it too. You’re met with a cold stare, his finger impatiently tapping on the table.
You frown, your eyes going back to the plate only to find the pomegranate.
Tears spring to your eyes as you consider the real fact that you’re losing your mind.
You don’t notice Michael getting up to stand next to you, your broken mind too caught up with all the peculiar things happening in the last couple of weeks.
He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the torment you’re putting yourself through.
By the time you turn to look at him, he has a few pomegranate seeds on his fingertips. You can smell the sweetness as he brings them closer to your lips.
“Don’t think about it. Just eat them,” he says as two of his fingers move past your lips and into your mouth.
You hum lowly in your throat as you taste how delicious they are, lips clasping tighter around Michael’s fingers, your tongue swirling around them.
He breaks the seal, removing his fingers before you swallow. He watches your throat move up and down, taking his offering.
You don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his plump lips.
It’s a night of tossing and turning. You’re able to sleep but it’s restless. Thoughts of Michael still lingering hours after he fed you the pomegranate.
When you’re finally able to sleep for more than an hour, you’re woken up by a scream similar to the one that woke you up weeks ago.
You know you heard it. It’s not in your imagination. No matter what Michael wants you to believe.
You don’t even think about it as you leave your bed, practically storming down the hall, deciding to leave behind a lit candle for light.
You pass Michael’s bedroom, getting closer to the faint sounds of cries and screams.
At the end of the hallway lies a singular door painted blood red.
You’ve never dared to go through it because when you arrived at the manor, you were told it is off limits.
Every time you would look at it, the hairs on your neck would stand up, giving you reason enough to never investigate it.
But now, you know you have to, tired of not knowing the truth.
When you step through the doorway, the air feels heavy, like all the light has been sucked out, only leaving a darkness that sits on your chest, making sure you cannot take a breath.
It’s pitch black, stairs going down to seemingly nowhere or possibly the pits of Hell. So, it’s either idiotic or suicidal why you decide to go down them.
Once you go down the stairs, a sweltering heat is the first thing you feel, like fire blistering your skin. It’s so bright down at the bottom of the stairs that it reflects in the irises of your eyes.
Hundreds of candles are lit with a few fires alongside them. The walls seem to be made of the earth, like a cave.
You don’t exactly understand what is going on, crouched at the bottom of the stairs spotting Michael walking toward a man sitting on the ground.
Cries and screams of “no” fall from the man as Michael brings a small knife to the man’s throat.
He slices it open, like a bleeding smile, his cries ceasing.
A sadistic smirk paints Michael’s lips, a satisfied one that is so similar to the one he had when he fed you the pomegranate seeds.
That’s when you notice everyone else. Bodies littered around the room, both alive and dead. Blood seeping from their various wounds. The ones who are alive seem to be chained to the floor or the walls, like they’re being tortured.
You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves your mouth, your stomach churning, thinking of the horror that the man you’re married to has been enacting.
You catch yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth. But it’s too late. He heard you.
Michael meets your gaze, and it only takes you a split second to get up and run back up the stairs.
You rush through the house, finding the front doors that keep you trapped inside this prison from the rest of the world.
You fling them open, running barefoot past the garden into the trees that border the manor.
Except just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re entering another door, one that goes right back inside the manor.
You look around with bewilderment, your mind racing to try and figure out what is going on. But you just end up hitting a brick wall, wanting to collapse into tears while nothing makes sense. You feel like the floor is moving, like your world has been tilted.
“Don’t cry, little witch.”
You turn to find Michael at the top of the main staircase, looking at you with a sort of curiosity and feigned sympathy.
“What?” you ask, voice cracking.
He continues down the stairs, stepping closer to you.
“Stay away from me,” you yell, voice still thick with tears. “I’m getting out of here.”
“You can try as long as you want to get away. But you’ll always end up back here.”
His looming figure is blurry as you blink away the tears.
You let him get closer, his thumb wiping your tear-stained cheeks.
“You poor thing.” You hear him mutter like you’re some naïve little lamb that needs to be protected.
“You’re stuck here,” he explains. “Those seeds you ate bound you here forever. With me, little witch,” he adds with a grumbling chuckle.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“You don’t remember,” he observes, tilting his head at you, like you’re his science experiment.
He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I suppose it would be better if you remembered. Then we really can have fun.”
Before you can protest or say anything, everything goes black.
Certain details are still fuzzy when you regain consciousness, but you remember it all.
You were a powerful witch in a coven. You remember your sisters and your Supreme, Cordelia.
You also remember him.
Cordelia made a deal. She knew who Michael really was, so she did anything she could to send him away, lock him up within the gates of Hell.
She had to make a sacrifice, and it just so happened to be you.
She came up with a loophole for you. The problem is that you couldn’t remember what it was when you arrived here.
You look around at your surroundings for the first time, finding yourself inside a circle of lit candles.
You try to move outside of the confines of the circle, but it’s like an invisible barrier is up.
You lie back down in defeat.
There is no fighting him or getting out. You ate the seeds of the pomegranate.
If enough time had passed without you eating them, you could’ve gotten away from here like Cordelia wanted.
Now you’ve sealed your fate. You’ve been promised to The Beast.
It’s not long before a door creaks open. The man you’ll be forced to spend eternity with, walks through the door.
“I imagine that was an enlightening nap,” he says, fighting off a mocking grin.
You swallow, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.
“I was right that it would be better if you remember. I can feel the hatred coming off you. I like that more than indifference.”
He pauses, his eyes raking over your body, like he’s hungry and you’re his next meal.
“Of course, other feelings haven’t changed. You know, it was so hard not to say anything that day in the library when I could smell how wet you were.”
You finally turn to look at him, eyes widening at his casual vulgarity.
“Or any of the other times you were clenching your thighs together. And all because of me,” he adds, eyes full of mirth.
“You’re lying,” you argue, but you can’t deny how warm your cheeks are getting.
“Am I?” he challenges. “It really wouldn’t matter. You’re mine to do as I please with.”
You try to hide the waves of heat you feel, but you can’t successfully hide anything from him.
“What would your Supreme think if she knew how easily you gave into me? If she knew how much of a whore, you are?”
He walks around you in circles like you’re prey that he’s just playing with until he’s ready to feast.
It’s dizzying.
“Maybe I couldn’t stop Cordelia from trapping me here, but I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. Her silly plan with the pomegranates,” he laughs. “I was going to pull you down to the depths of Hell with me. Which is where you’ll be for the rest of eternity.”
You shake your head, wanting him to stop taunting you.
“You’re a monster, Michael,” you harshly say. “I’m sure you feel more at home here.”
He just gives you a humorless laugh, something cruel settling in his eyes.
“Cordelia doesn’t care about you. Her hatred for me outweighed whatever love she had for you. She’s probably forgotten all about you.”
You try to pretend that his words don’t claw at your chest.
“But if I’m going to have my little witch by my side,” he continues. “She can’t be an insolent one.”
You instantly regret hurling any insults at him.
“I think it’s time you learn how things are going to work around here.”
He steps inside the circle, barely giving you time to move out of his way.
“On your knees. Now,” he says, his voice sounding gravelly.
You scramble to kneel at his second command.
“Tell me, little witch. Who’s your God?”
You look up at him, confusion in your eyes.
“What?”
The palm of his hand meets your cheek, moving your head to the side. A slight sting burns your skin.
“Let’s try that again. Who is your God?”
You just shake your head, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.
His palm slaps your other cheek, the same biting feeling spreading through your face.
“We can keep doing this until you get it right.”
At least when Michael walked the earth, he had many people to subject his torture too. Now, he just has you. And any other sorry soul that might cross his path, you think. The image of crimson pouring from that man’s neck is still burned into your mind.
“You, Michael. You’re my God,” you defeatedly say.
“And how should you worship your God?”
You catch his gaze, unsure how to answer.
All he does is move his hand to undo his pants, unzipping them until you get what he means.
Your eyelashes flutter as you move your face closer to his cock.
He’s already hard, so you give a small lick to his tip, tasting the salty evidence of his arousal.
He watches you start to put his cock into your mouth and down your throat.
A groan falls from his lips as you begin to fuck him with your throat, spit spilling out of your mouth as you choke on his size.
He puts a hand to the back of your head, helping you to take almost all of him. You can feel your own arousal coating your inner thighs.
“I knew you were good for something,” he says as you gag a little.
He surprises you by pulling you off him, letting you fall onto your ass while your drool hits your chin.
He’s quick to grab you, pinning you to the floor as he puts his weight on top of you.
“I want you to feel me cum inside you.”
He doesn’t waste any time before he rips your white nightgown off you, seeing your naked body for the first time.
His own clothes come off and you hate that even if you know how much of a monster he is, all you can think about is him fucking you.
His hands have your wrists underneath them, pushed into the cold hard floor. You can’t move if you wanted to, but you don’t think you would anyway.
All you do is blink, and his face has changed. His skin is paler with cracks running through it, almost like cement. And his eyes have gone black, no light or emotion to be seen, just darkness, an overwhelming evil you’ve never seen or felt before.
It frightens you. His body is colder as he pushes inside you, a growl coming from deep in his throat.
He doesn’t care to wait for you to adjust, he’s rough in his thrusts, setting a pace that already leaves you gasping for air.
“Michael,” you cry out. “It hurts.”
You know you sound pathetic which is almost worse than how full you feel, your cunt stretching to accommodate the size of him.
“Good,” is all he says.
He licks and bites at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers. It’s both pain and pleasure and it drives you insane. You can feel him deep inside you, the tip of his cock hitting that soft spot nestled in you.
You wrap your legs around him, your walls clenching around him.
He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears from the pain you have felt. He just licks it up, finding your pain to be delicious.
His lips drag against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin.
He whispers, “I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. Evidence of how you belong to me.”
You can feel your pussy squeeze him at the thought, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.
He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he moves his hand down to rub your aching bundle of nerves.
It’s enough for the coil to snap. It’s only moments later when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He bites down on your shoulder, and you cry out in pain as he laps up the blood that seeps from the wound, soothing it with his tongue.
He’s breathless as he collapses on top of you, his skin going back to its usual color.
Your mind isn’t clouded with pleasure anymore, but you bring a hand to the curls on his head anyway.
He moves his head slightly to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips.
“If only Cordelia could see you now.”
#michael langdon#michael langdon x reader#ahs#american horror story#ahs apocalypse#michael langdon fanfiction
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Being Jason Todd's kid (Platonic)
Warning: at the beginning y/n has a shitty mom and neglectful (+abandoning them) plus a mention of Jason’s death of being beaten
You knew for a long time your mom didn’t love you, even your young 8 year old mind could tell
From the way she looked at you with disdain and disgust
She was still your mom though so you loved her
Loved her despite the yelling and sending you to your room with a granola bar as your dinner
It was fine
Everything was fine
All you had to do was keep doing your best to make her love you like in the books you’d read at school
So you did your best to appease her
You’d bring her the sticks that would create the smelly wisps of smoke that would stain her gnashing teeth as she yelled at you
Or bring in the amber coloured drink in glass bottle she liked
You tried it once cause the tap didn’t make water anymore but you didn’t like it
It felt as if it was burning your throat and tongue as it slithered down your parched throat like venom from a snake
When she feel asleep on her chair you’d place a blanket around her but left the tv on
She got mad at you cause of that the first time
You made rules in your mind on how to properly dance around the tiggers that would make her angry
Some you didn’t really understand as to why she got angry over it but you avoided it anyways
Just keeping quiet and silently going about your day to make her as happy as you could
She never took you out much, often leaving you at home when she’d get groceries or went to work
But as a surprise she told you that you’d be going with her to carry the bags
It was night, but you didn’t mind it much since you’d always preferred it
Made getting your mom the smelly sticks easier when it was the man at the cashier at 711
Eventually as you walk further into the city with her you see that your in an area you’d never been before
It’s scary, really scary but you don’t say a word
You don’t say anything when she tells you to wait at the curb beneath a streetlight as she walks off
Cold concrete kissing your palms as you sit there, a lone 8 year old waiting
Still wearing pyjamas and barefoot as the cold chill of the night began to set in
It’s nothing you can’t handle, besides she’d be back soon
She said she would
And if your actions were right you couldn’t break a promise
She’s just taking awhile is all
Maybe it was busy!, yeah that had to be it
People were just busy shopping cause they were at work in the day
So you wait some more
And some more
And now your shaking as you hug yourself
You can’t go home cause you don’t k is the way back and your afraid to leave incase she came back and got mad
There’s a slight chatter sound as your teeth clatter from how much your shaking
The tears feel so cold against your cheeks that you swear they might become frozen to them
There isn’t any noise except for the occasional honk streets away, the night is calm
Until there’s a marsh crash and curses come from the alleyway across from where you sit
It makes you go still and tense
Until a man exits it wearing an odd red mask with glowy eyes
He stumbles out and curses with a weird almost electric sound to his voice before he locks eyes with you
“Oi kid!, what are you doing out so late and alone?”
He takes as step forwards and you scoot back a little bit, still shaking as he now notices how your not wearing much on a cold night
He takes off his jacket
“If I give you my jacket will you tell me your name?”
“I heard I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…can you tell me your name?”
At this nods and as he got closer you dont back away like before
You let him place the large jacket over your shoulders, it’s big and bulky and reminds you of a blanket with the fluff on the inside
He says his name is red hood, something that makes your eyes light up with familiarity
You’d heard about him from your mom watched the news, mentions if the name but never what he looked like
There was also something with him and Batman? But you didn’t really know a lot about it from the snippets you heard
“Does that mean your a hero?.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that. But close enough”
“That’s cool, mom said that hero’s were a sham. I always thought their cool, I’m y/n by the way”
“Kid how old are you?, what are you doing out here?”
You go to hold your fingers up to show him but you don’t remember what’s past five
Mom pulled you out of preschool saying she’d Homeschool you but never did
Whatever you had learned was from tv and the limited books you could read
You begin to tear up in frustration
“Hey it’s ok kid. Second question then, what are you doing out here”
“Mom said she needed groceries and she let me come this time so I can carry the bags. She said that I had to wait here till she’s come back”
He goes rigid at that but you don’t notice
You curl up in a ball and zip up the coat around you
Now properly protecting you from the cold except for your feet
“Mr hood can you wait with me. I don’t wanna be alone”
“Sure thing”
So he sits himself beside you on the curb
To pass the time he pulls out a small book labeled “pride and prejudice” and begins reading it to you
It’s nice having someone to read with
He uses different voice for different characters, giving them posh accents that make you giggle
But as time ticks on he notices how your shoulders droop more
Along with your smile
Eventually he stops reading and puts his book away
“She said she’d come back…she’s coming back right?”
It sounds so broken as you ask this, you turn your head to look at him and he sees your reddened eyes that have tears lining them
The only sounds you can make are choked sobs and sniffles as the masked vigilante pulls you into a hug
You grab onto him tightly, small hands digging into the metal plating of his armour
Afraid he’d leave as well just as everyone else in your life did
“Do you have a dad you can go to?”
“Mom said he left because of me…so I don’t think so. Do you think if I go home she’d be mad at me?”
He feels his heart shatter a bit at that and he doesn’t know how to respond other than gently rubbing the back of your head
Jason at this point in his life knows he’s not in the best place to care for himself let alone a kid. He’s a walking corpse back from the dead, wanting to get revenge as his mind unscrambles itself day by day
But as you sob he knows he can’t let go
Those memories of his mother staining his mind along with the sound of your crying
The betrayal similar to this where she willingly led her child to a certain death
He also doesn’t trust the foster care system nor any system for a matter of fact
He’s seen his share of messed up kids that have been created through them
So in that moment Jason makes an impulsive decision he wouldn’t ever regret
“Do…do you wanna come with me then?. You gotta keep my identity a secret though, k?”
“O-ok Mr hood”
“Just call me Jason kid”
Yeah so first couple weeks Jason struggles since he hasn’t exactly looked after a child before
Your an independent kid from the conditions you lived in before but that makes him worry quite a bit
Especially when you have a small snack and call it a dinner
So he just takes small steps, and also reads parenting books…a lot of them actually
He still has to set you up a room so he lets you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch
It’s easier that way cause he’s afraid of accidentally hurting you while having a nightmare
Which he still gets quite frequently
You don’t seem to mind, just thanking him for sleeping in a nice bed and having blankets that properly keep you warm
Before you came along he kinda just got takeout but he knows that isn’t the healthiest thing so he actually starts cooking
He’s pretty decent at it due to helping Alfred and for like the first time in your life you have a proper meal
You have to hold back tears and it makes his heart crack a bit at the sight
Jason hires an online teacher before sending you to school due to the fact your a bit behind in what a child your age needs to know and he doesn’t trust that Gotham is safe enough yet
Speaking of which he’s protective, like real protective for good reason though
He’s still running around at night with Bruce chasing him along with Gotham being a cesspool
So it’s safe to say that it’s not exactly a safe place for you
Won’t admit it but he purposefully buys you clothes that are red cause he thinks it’s cute
Especially if you say you want more red cause it reminds you of him
100% makes it a tradition to read a chapter of a book to you each day and teaches you to read better through it
He gets better from time and experience
Whenever he comes home battered and angry he makes sure to take his anger out on something before he heads into the apartment
He doesn’t wanna accidentally scare you or snap by accident
You try to help him with his wounds (as best as an 8 year old can) and he melts
Another thing that makes him melt is when he walked in on you trying on his helmet and leather jacket
He laughed and then played with you before putting on some ABBA that y’all danced to
It takes awhile but once he gets your room set up he’s really proud and happy with himself for once when seeing your smile
It was when you thank him that you accidentally called him dad
You freeze and go to apologize but he just hugs you
And you feel tears hit your shoulder
“No it’s ok, yeah I’m your dad now kid”
When your about 10-13 he sends you to school since your properly caught up and he thinks it’s probably best you make friends
He’s already at this point gotten you a fake ID with a new last name since he knows if you have Todd then Bruce is gonna look into it
While he isn’t trying to get revenge anymore he’s still not on the best of terms with the old man
A metaphorical wall between them that leaves Bruce at a distance
Jason likes it this way though since no one knows about you
Giving you a relatively normal life
Now that your a bit older he shows you some of his favourite tv even if it’s still not the most age appropriate thing for you to watch
But as long as no one knows you can watch Buffy but shhhh
Loves binging series with you but also enjoys watching movies as well like lost boys
He’s got a soft spot for older films that will probably be transferred to you
Oh and murder mysteries like knives out (Damn you Bruce)
You don’t remember your birthday so he uses the day he found you as it
And at this age he goes 100% on them
Like guess whos gonna go see hadestown?!?
By god he loves you so much, like goes from big intimidating vigilante to gentle little shit when he gets home
Sometimes you try to stay up late to be awake when he gets home
You usually fall asleep and it always makes his heart warm and fuzzy at the sight of it
Definitely takes you around on his motorcycle and makes you your own helmet to match his
You best bet your gonna be the fucking coolest kid in school with the leather jacket he gets you
He teaches you how to defend yourself and stick up for others
And not to let people step over you
Sure he gets some calls from the office but when he hears little Tommy was being a dick he’s taking you to get Dairy Queen and a pat on the back
You also get a lot of his sass as well
Like you’ve gotten in trouble several times for being a smart ass to terrible teachers
He affectionately calls you “little shit” “ankle bitter” “kid” and “brat”
In return you tease him for having white hair and calling him “old man”
At this point he hasn’t told you about Bruce and his revival but you know he has something against Batman
And for now he leaves it at that since he would prefer to tell you when your a bit older since your still a kid
No matter what he’ll get it into your head to NEVER become a hero or vigilante
Seeing him come home battered and bruised is enough to convince you of that though
Along with that he also teaches you about picking and choosing fights and when to know that you should get help
He doesn’t show up to pta meetings at Gotham academy cause he’s kinda scare Bruce is gonna be there and have some questions
There have definitely been some times while taking you out for something that he narrowly avoided his family
Speaking of which despite them not knowing about you, you actually know about them
Jason actually entrusts you with the information that their the bat family to you since he knows you won’t tell anyone
Even if you did it would sound like a kid spouting off fun theories
You once called Nightwing a dick for a joke and he turned around all confused until he realized what you said
When you told Jason he laughed his ass off about it
Every year for Halloween he lets you borrow one of his spare masks and y’all go out for trick or treating
At the end of it you guys have a tradition of eating some of your spoils of candy on a rooftop overlooking Gotham
When you become a teenager he’s surprisingly really good at dealing with you
Partially because Jason’s still a grungy teen at heart lol
Y’all don’t really have misunderstandings since he puts effort into making some communication is key
Unlike with Bruce who he feels never tried to see his viewpoint Jason makes sure to see your one on topics and issues
But that’s the rare case you guys actually have a discussion like that
Jason actually really happy if you start dating and isn’t really bothered by it?
He knows you can handle yourself and trusts your judge of characters unless he gets reallly off vibes about them
Like serial killer kinda vibes
Then he’s stepping In
If you do have a bad break up though he’s 100% taking you to egg that persons house
And the he takes you to a nice dinner while you both shit talk or if your not feeling up to that he gets ice cream and y’all watch your favourite happy movie
Whatever career you want to pursue you can bet that he will support you
He’s your biggest cheerleader and if it came to it he’d get Pompom’s to prove a point
If you don’t know where you wanna go that’s fine as well!
He doesn’t fucking know what he’s doing with his life either lol and he certainly doesn’t have a conventional job (that’s for sure)
He’s super happy if you begin experimenting with different styles especially if it’s something kinda alt, grunge or punk
Cause then you both can match and he can give you some of his old stuff he’d think you like
At this point in your life he’d be really happy if you share some of your favourite music with him
He has a lot of range and versatility in his playlists but he isn’t as up to date with modern music as he’d like to be
He’d probably really like Doja cat, tame impala, Lovejoy, and Mitski
God if you show him Mitski expect to one day find him crying whilst listening to it
If you ask him what’s wrong he’ll just say “it’s one of those days” (Me)
Speaking of which, this is the time where Jason actually opens up about why he has nightmares so often and why he hated Bruce
It’s definitely a bit jarring to hear about him being beaten to death and then revived
And you definitely get a bit upset that Bruce didn’t do anything to really get revenge on the joker
Though you know your view is biased from being Jason’s kid and watching him growing up have full on horrific nightmares that would make him wake up screaming
How his mom betrayed him as well
It’s a big thing for him to talk about since he usually prefers to not relive those memories in his mind
But he knows that you’d learn eventually and he’d prefer if it was from his mouth
For him to tell about his trauma when he felt that both of you were ready
You feel closer to him in heart
And you hug him like when he had found you all those years ago
And Jason finds himself content
Any concert you want to go to he’s probably tagging along since he enjoys those type of events
Even if it’s for a musician that isn’t his favourite
He finds any hobby you have or anything you wanna collect
Cause he wants you to be happy and even if he doesn’t get it per say seeing your smile makes him understand
If it’s something he also likes though then be prepared cause your sharing that collection with him
And you both are gonna geek out over shit
He still reads to you as a small tradition you’ve both continued since him taking you in
Just you snuggled beside him in a cocoon of blankets as he reads a book of your recommendation aloud
A vinyl playing on a low level in the background
That alone pushes him to never give up when on patrol
He has you to return to, he has someone who he cared for more than his own life
The only bit of normality he has in his life after being thrown into the bubbling green waters of the Lazarus pit. Coming back as a broken and lost man hellbent on revenge and lingering rage
And of fucking course it’s during one of these nights as he’s reading Carmila that Bruce and Dick decide to drop by
“What the?!- Jason who the hell’s that?!?”
“Do we lie orrr?” “Can’t lie to em kid, their like living lie detectors” “those don’t even properly work though, you can cheat them easily” “it was an analogy”
“Can still hear y-“
“Shut up dick”
“They know?”
“Yeah well…of course I’d tell my kid about you guys”
“I’m an uncle?!?. How long have you had them?!?, how?!”
“How old are they?”
“I’m right here you know, Stop talking as if I’m not you geezers”
Haha yeah….Bruce is having a crisis realizing he’s technically a grandpa now
Hurray
There are like 2000 things going on in his mind right now and he definitely needs a chair to sit down on
He’s still in his costume so his emotions aren’t really showing but you can definitely tell he’s not ok by how he’s leaning against the wall looking kinda faint
He happy but at the same time he’s kinda upset that Jason never told him
Like, you’ve had a kid for years and never told me, your dad?!?
Jason definitely needs to have a talk with him and explain his side of the situation (which you practically force the two of them to do)
He’s kinda akward around you but not in a bad way, moreso in the “so kiddo what do you kids like these days” kinda way
He’s missed out on countless years of your life and didn’t even know you existed up until now and now your suddenly revealed to be his grandkid
He has like years of birthdays, Christmas’s, Easter’s and every other fucking holidays to catch up on
He starring holes into you by accident and your dad has to lightly smack his arm to tell him to stop lol
He means well though and you know that
Meanwhile Dick is ecstatic cause he’s an uncle!!
He’s already ready to brag to everyone he knows about it and be like “pshh that cool but I’m now an uncle”
Bro’s sitting beside you and asking everything about your interests and achievements
It’s kinda sweet since he’s just nodding along adding “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” every once in awhile
It reminds you a bit of a golden retriever
But with that also comes the little devil on your shoulder tempting you to mess with him a bit
And you do so
“I have the best insults from here to metropolis”
“Want to prove that?”
“Sure. I bet you have so much ass hair that when you have diarrhea it comes out as filtered water”
They quickly learn you have Jason’s mouth if not worse
Wither you or Jason realize it or not your both alike in more ways than one
#platonic#dc x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#batman x reader#bruce wayne x reader#nightwing x reader#dick grayson x reader
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4 𝙖𝙢
entry 000
(yandere until dawn)
WARNINGS: Bullying, Mild Cussing, Death
WORD COUNT: 990
(9:37 ᴘᴍ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ)
The cabin was warm, the fire gently melting away the cold, raw chill and replacing it with a sense of coziness and comfort.
The storm was intense, making it nearly impossible to see even a little ahead, with snow falling heavily all around.
Josh was slumped at the countertop, his head resting on his folded arms as he slept, an empty beer bottle loosely held in his limp hand. I sat beside him, scrolling through my phone, occasionally glancing over to make sure he was still breathing.
I was giggling at his snoring, while Mike, Jess, Emily, and the others stood around me in a circle. Jess had her head resting on my back, her arms wrapped around my belly.
They were talking about the prank they were about to pull, planning to fool Hannah into believing that Mike liked her, fully aware of her big crush on him.
"Oh my god, I can't believe you did this!" Emily whispered excitedly to Jess. She had been the most eager for this moment, especially since she was Mike's girlfriend and had a reputation for being petty.
"Don't you guys think this is a bit cruel?" Sam asked, clearly not too keen on the idea. It made sense, given that she and Hannah had been friends for a while.
"Oh come on, she deserves it." Jess said from behind me, I could basically hear her rolling her eyes.
"Its not her fault he has a huge crush on Mike-" Sam said trying to defend Hannah
"Hannah's been making moves on him, I'm just looking out for my girl Em." Jess said before directing her attention towards me. "Besides, (y/n) says it'll be okay, right?" She asks, causing me to hesitate.
Sure, it might be somewhat funny, but I've known Hannah, Beth, and Josh for five years now, and I don’t want to hurt any of them.
Still, my opinion didn’t seem to matter, as Jess pulled me up and walked me out of the kitchen and into the living room without waiting for my response.
Emily then starts skipping after us, following us into the room while still talking to Sam. "Just because he's class Prez doesn't mean he belongs to everyone... Mike is my man," she said with a grin.
Mike, trailing behind us, chimed in, "Hey, Em. I'm not anybody's man..." This made Emily giggle as she sang back, "Whatever you say, Darling~!"
We all ascended the creaky staircase and entered the spare bedroom, the scene of everything that was about to happen. Some of us crouched behind the door, while others squeezed into closets. Jess and Emily pulled me under the bed with them, both of them giggling. I could only sit there, hoping this wouldn’t hurt Hannah as much as I was imagining.
“Oh… she’s here! Shh!” Emily whispered as we heard footsteps approaching the room. Then everything went silent when they stopped.
Eventually, the door swung open, and we heard her voice. "Mike?" she said, peeking into the room and scanning the surroundings before spotting the person she was looking for. "It's Hannah," she added as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
"Hey, Hannah." he replied, staring intensely at her.
"I got your note," she said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, clearly uneasy about being in the room with him. She had always been a bit of a nervous girl.
"I'm glad you could make it." Mike said, grinning, although we all knew he wasn't smiling in Hannah's favor.
It was quiet for a moment; all I could hear was Emily and Jess's breathing on either side of me. Then Mike spoke up again, "Maybe we should start with a little, you know, making out, and see where it goes from there."
Hannah nodded, then began to untie her shirt, prompting Mike to exclaim, "Ohhhh hell yeah."
“Oh my God! She’s taking her shirt off!” Jess squealed, shaking me by the shoulders.
Hannah immediately started covering herself up and looked around, confused. "What!? Oh my God!". She heard Jess's voice.
Everybody then started coming out of there hiding spots, Hannah calls out again. "Matt? What are you doing here!?"
Matt was recording on his phone and everybody was staring at her. I remained under the bed, feeling too bad for Hannah to look at her.
Mike then attempted to apologize to Hannah and explain everything, but Sam opened the door and walked over to Hannah, trying to comfort her. "Hannah, hey, honey... Don’t... It’s just a..." But Hannah ignored her and stormed out of the room.
Sam then turns her attention to everybody else in the room. "You guys are jerks. You know that?" she says, "You even dragged (y/n) into this, knowing she and Hannah were close!" then she swings the door open and calls out Hannah's name, chasing after her.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the room, but eventually, everyone bolted out to chase after Sam and Hannah, leaving me still under the bed.
I tried to steady my breathing, but I was too worried about Hannah to think clearly. Gathering my composure, I crawled out from under the bed and followed the voices of the others, finding them all outside the cabin.
"What happened?" I asked Emily, noticing a figure running away from the cabin, unsure of who it was.
She informed me that Hannah had run into the woods, and then Beth followed her, trying to find her sister. I looked in the direction they had gone, but the thick snow made it impossible to see anything but trees and white.
I kept staring, hoping and praying that Hannah would be okay, even though I knew deep down that it was unlikely.
Mike then nudges my shoulder and asks me "Should we go after her?"
But Sam replies for me "Y'know I kinda think you're the LAST person she wants to see right now, Mike.", she's obviously annoyed.
They continued to chat among themselves, but I turned away from them and focused on Josh's figure, still sleeping on the countertop.
#yandere x reader#yanderes#multiple yandere#until dawn#untildawn#yandere until dawn#josh washington#beth washington#hannah washington#emily davis#jessica riley#matthew taylor
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Beta squad as dads
Warnings : None
Niko Omilana -
⇒ QOTD, Niko as a boy dad.
⇒ Sheds an ocean of tears when his son was born, still swears to this day that he didn't cry. (George has it on cameras from 3 different angles)
⇒ Niko isn't the type to nap very often, but when he does it's always with his son on his chest. Whenever the baby is feeling ill or needs someone, his dad is always there.
⇒ As your baby grows into his toddler phase, the boys have playful fights to see who gets to sleep in the middle. With Niko winning (no surprise in that) but having to give up his place for a very cute, pouting baby. (100% has your face and adorable smile.)
⇒ Niko almost jumped over the moon when his son made a dad joke. He was following in his dad's footsteps after all.
Sharky -
⇒ The first thing i can think about is Sharky making tiktoks with your twins as soon as they learn to make any kind of movement. He would then add his own steps and post it for everyone else to see.
⇒ Would put his kids on the couch and start talking to them. The boys are still so young, but there's nothing else they love than yapping with their amazing dad. (Even if he doesn't understand al that baby blabber.)
⇒ As they (VERY QUICKLY) reach their toddler phase, they guard Sharky. Not a joke, like GUARD him 24/7. They wouldn't let you go anywhere near him or let you scold him. The grin on his face when all of this happens is unbearable (but you love your family so much)
⇒ Not to worry tho, the babies eventually turn around and make you their favourite parent. A very wild day in your household (according to Sharky)
⇒ 100% gets his sons the same kit he wears while playing football. Boots too if possible. Your dreams of being a football mom and a football wife do come true after all :))
Aj Shabeel -
⇒ His daughter is his twin. She STOLE thoses gorgeous, curly locks from Aj.
⇒ Maybe this was fate (Cruelty according to Aj) but Niko is her favourite uncle. (Understandable, Same.) Thus naturally, she spends a lot of time with Niko's son.
⇒ Often punches Niko on the arm due to the occasional jokes he makes about getting their children married to one other so he can be related to Aj.
⇒ BEST.GIRL.DAD. He lets his daughter do any makeover she wants on him. Be it braiding his hair, painting his nails, playing dollhouse or throwing a tea party. Aj is always your daughter's number one supporter.
⇒ Having 2 Ajs in the house can be crazy at times, but you wouldn't change it for the world.
Chunkz -
⇒ Another Girl Dad. (Girl Dads forever)
⇒Both of them love singing together. Carpool karaoke, singing while doing ousework, singing while outside. The father - daughter duo manage to do it all.
⇒ Chunkz is SUPER proud of his kid. She wins prizes in the most random things scaling from sports to trivia. Who wouldn't be proud to father a young prodigy.
⇒ Loves baking with his baby girl. They make all sorts of pastries and desserts. Every single birthday you've had so far definitely had a contribution from one of their baking projects.
⇒ Top 10 moments in your life.
Kenny -
⇒ Has one son. Surprisingly a very energetic kid compared to his dad who is more laidback and chill.
⇒They do pushups together, Kenny tries explaining the importance of physical health quite early on to his child. (Pretends to not see his son using his knees as support during pushups. cmon he's 6 :(( )
⇒ Super proud dad when his son whisks you away from any man trying to make convo with you, let alone hit on you. If you didn't know this was Kenny's son at this point, you would've now. Both of them are very overprotective of you.
⇒ Your son brings you snacks, rubs your shoulders when you're tired, pulls your chair for you and fills your water bottles. You get worried sometimes that he might be doing too much as a kid, but your son won't have it any other way.
⇒ At the end of the day, your boys love you and spoil you to death. Two gentlemen residing with a lovely lady in the Ojuederie household.
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Intrusion.
Tom Riddle × Fem!Reader
You always had a hard time understanding why Tom kept you so hidden away. One night something happens that makes you realize why.
Word count: 1.7k
Content warning: Hints of a panic attack, violence, depictions of torture.
Soft!Tom makes an appearance!
You were very aware that Tom kept you at a distance from his...business.
Even during your time at school, he only allowed you to attend the Room of Requirement meetings a couple of times after much pleading. Graduating didn't change the situation much, despite your marriage; you didn't mind not knowing every detail of his plans, but the extent of your seclusion felt odd. You just wanted to understand why he kept you hidden away so intensely.
Most days, you tried to convince yourself that being the wife of the Dark Lord was enough, even if you had no say in his world-altering decisions. It was hard to ignore that some of his followers were unaware of your existence, while others knew you only as "The Dark Lord's mistress," a term you doubted Tom was aware of or would tolerate.
Though a few Death Eaters knew you from your Hogwarts days, most remained tight-lipped around you, offering mere nods or quiet acknowledgments. It was clear they feared Tom greatly; making eye contact with you seemed like a perilous act. You weren't sure if it was due to his direct orders or their assumptions about his expectations. Either way, though you couldn't really fault them for hiding from you. While you weren't scared of Tom, you could understand why others would be.
Quiet apprehension gnawed at you as you contemplated discussing your concerns with Tom. But you reasoned that avoiding potential arguments and trusting him were better choices. After all, you were an adult now, not a teenage worrier. You had married him despite his questionable morals, so who were you to judge?
The muffled conversations behind closed doors and fleeting glimpses of secretive meetings became your new norm. Sometimes you managed to catch glimpses through cracks, only to have the door swiftly shut when you were noticed. While you occasionally wondered about his trust in you, you pushed those doubts away to avoid unnecessary distress. You remained silent, occupying yourself with your own pursuits, whether it was reading, writing, or wandering the halls of the inherited family estate.
On this particular evening, you found yourself in the library, Tom being out for the night, which didn't bother you. As you perused the shelves, a loud bang from downstairs jolted you. Frozen in place, you strained to listen for more sounds, until harsh, unfamiliar voices reached your ears. Loud and aggressive, they echoed from the ground floor.
Panic surged as you realized you were in danger. These voices weren't part of Tom's inner circle, and you backed away from the library door, realizing that someone had broken into your home. The thought of a robbery crossed your mind, but then a chilling realization struck—you hadn't considered the possibility that Tom's ambitious plans might have made enemies.
Your initial instinct was to leave the house, apparate, and contact Tom for help. But as your hand reached for your wand, you remembered it was in your room. Unlike Tom, you couldn't perform wandless magic. Trapped and helpless, the sound of angry shouting grew louder, approaching from downstairs.
With each thud of footsteps ascending the stairs, you strained to catch their words. The first voice, a man's, sent a shiver down your spine as he called out, "Where is that bitch?" It was clear they were after you, and this wasn't just a random intrusion; they intended to harm you.
Anxiety clenched at your heart. You had never felt targeted before, never imagined this vulnerability. You cursed yourself for not being better prepared, for letting yourself be defenseless and alone. As their voices drew nearer, panic coursed through you; you were trapped, with no means of escape.
With painstaking effort, you inched backward against the library wall, the cold surface offering a stark contrast to your racing heart. The air felt thin and suffocating, your breaths shallow and uneven, while beads of sweat dotted your forehead.
They were right outside the door now.
You pressed your hands against the wall, your pulse pounding in your ears, as you prayed for them not to notice you. They pounded on the door, and you clamped your eyes shut, fear tightening its grip on you with each thud.
A shiver of dread ran down your spine as the door gave way, crashing open under their assault. Two men stormed in, wands at the ready. Your body locked up, terror stifling your voice, and you blinked back tears that threatened to betray your composure. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening.
The realization hit that running was futile—your exit was blocked. Your heart raced as their eyes settled on you, and you weighed your chances against them without a wand. Your legs trembled as the fear that gripped you teetered on the edge of overwhelming.
"There she is," one of the men sneered, his gaze locking onto you. Panic gripped you tighter, the world narrowing down to their menacing forms.
"We've been looking for you. I'll take her. Come along." His companion's nod was a chilling confirmation, and your pulse quickened as he aimed his wand at you. Their grip tightened, hauling you forward, and you struggled against their grasp. Your voice wavered as you spoke, desperation evident, "Don't do anything foolish. Let me go!"
Their faces twisted with anger at your words, their cruelty evident.
"Voldemort's whore has a temper," the other man taunted, the use of Voldemort's name sending a shock through you. These were Tom's followers, but why target you? They had to know the repercussions of angering him.
"What do you want with me? What are you doing?" you pleaded, flinching when the grip on your arm intensified.
"Enough talking," he snapped, his wand slicing through the air to silence you. Before you could react, the curse fell from his lips.
"Crucio."
Agony erupted, a scream tearing from your throat. Pain seared across your skin, your body convulsing as the torture curse wracked you. Darkness encroached on your vision, and you were thrown backward, a collision with a bookshelf shattering your senses.
As your awareness wavered, a silver dagger gleamed in one captor's hand, your body too weak to move. The other man grabbed your hair, his wand trained on you, while the dagger-wielding one advanced with malicious intent.
"Please, no! Tom will b—"
"Shut it!" the man spat, the blade plunging into your leg. Agony shot through you, your body wracked with pain as your screams filled the room.
"That bastard doesn't even know we're here, but he's gonna regret making a fool out of us," the man hissed, drawing closer. Nausea swelled within you, tears clouding your vision.
"Unhand her." The voice cut through the chaos, familiar and commanding.
"Tom…" you croaked weakly, blinking teary eyes to see him standing behind your assailants. His eyes blazed with fury, and you clung to his presence, your savior in this nightmare.
The attackers froze, their surprise palpable.
"M- My lord," one stammered, and Tom's lip curled with disdain.
"Ah, so it is 'my lord' now?" he seethed, closing in. The men scrambled, leaving you slumped against the bookshelf.
"We meant no disrespect, sir," one attempted, while the other looked on anxiously. "We simply were…"
"Were what?" Tom's anger laced his voice. "Please do explain your assault on my wife."
"My lord," the shorter man bowed, "We didn't know—We just thought she was some intruder!"
The taller man nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, we came for you and saw her! We thought she was breaking in, my lord, I swear!"
The lies were transparent.
"Not only did you invade my home and attack my wife, but you dare lie about it," Tom growled, his gaze steely.
"No, we're—"
"Silence!" Tom's command silenced them both.
"Both of you will go downstairs; I will address this later." The men hurried away, assuming they were off the hook. Tom turned to you, worry etched his features as he reached for your trembling hands.
"My love, can you hear me?" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. His arms enfolded you, lifting you gently. Pain rippled through you, your vision swimming.
"Everything will be all right now, I am here," he assured softly, but your pain remained relentless. Tom's gaze shifted to your bleeding leg, his brows furrowing in concern.
"You will be fine," he said gently as he cradled you. The pain was overpowering, your vision blurring as you teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.
His voice reached you, your consciousness slipping away, but you knew he was there.
And then the darkness enveloped you.
-
When consciousness returned, you found yourself in your bed, the dull ache in your head the only lingering reminder of the ordeal. Your gaze shifted to your bandaged leg, confirming that the events weren't some nightmarish illusion. Sighing, you realized it had all been real.
You pushed yourself up, cautiously testing your body's limits. Muscles protested the movement, and a groan escaped your lips as pain surged through you. Memories of the harrowing experience played on a loop in your mind, each scene etched with vivid intensity.
Tom's voice interrupted your thoughts. "You need to rest." His presence filled the room, and you met his gaze as he spoke.
"How long was I asleep?" you questioned, trying to make sense of the passage of time.
"13 hours," he replied calmly, offering you a glass of water. He settled beside you on the bed.
"Thirteen hours!?" Shock colored your voice as you nearly dropped the glass. "I was unconscious for thirteen hours?"
Tom's reassurance came with a touch. "It is okay, you're safe now," he said, his arms encircling you. The glass of water quickly emptied as you downed it, your body yearning for hydration after the ordeal.
"So, what happened to the intruders?" you ventured, your apprehension clear in your voice.
"They have been dealt with," Tom's response was clipped, his demeanor stern. You understood the implication behind his words and chose not to press further.
"I'm sorry, Tom," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. Fatigue washed over you, threatening to pull you back into sleep.
"For what?" he inquired gently.
"Being reckless," you admitted, your eyelids growing heavy.
"I was careless too," he confessed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "They are gone now. I will never let any harm come to you again."
"Promise?" you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.
"I promise," his reply was tender, and with a content smile, you surrendered to sleep once more.
#tom riddle x you#x reader#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle fanfiction#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle#female reader
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