#(i just could not shake the thought of her killing her own (biological) family because they posed a threat to the family she chose (him))

[softersinned-arc]

@balldwin​ said: are you going to let me in?

She curses herself when she hears his voice — of course he would be waiting, of course he would hear her, smell her, under his roof again, of course he would want to see her —

          When she stands to cross the room to him she is unsteady, and she makes it halfway to him before she stumbles, crashing to her hands and knees loudly enough that she doesn’t hear the crack of wood as the door is flung open. At once, Baldwin is beside her, and he finds the wound at once, covers it with a firm hand as he helps her stand. “Foolish,” he mutters, and Astoria sways on her feet, but she doesn’t say anything.

          And that, she thinks, must worry him the most — she has been wounded a hundred times before, sometimes worse than she is now, and she has never failed to meet his irritation with a comment of her own.

          “They’re dead,” she says instead. “All of them.” And she doesn’t imagine the flash of pride in his eyes, she knows, nor does she imagine that his grip on her tightens as she says it. Does he mean to keep her where she is, now that her task is finished? Would he try to keep her safe, even now? Astoria cannot bring herself to look at him, but she covers his hand over her wound, her blood pooling where their skin meets, and she swallows, hard. “They were my grandfather’s line, Baldwin. They knew my name. They were here for me.”

          She wonders if Philippe had suspected as much, if perhaps that was the reason he had agreed to her request the night before. I cannot start a war with the witches, he’d said, eyes meeting hers. None of the Clermonts could. And Astoria had grinned at that, and bowed her head respectfully, and reminded him, But I am not a Clermont.

          Baldwin had looked irritated when she said that — but then again, Baldwin hadn’t wanted her to go at all. Starting a war with witches would never end well, but in Astoria’s defense, they pushed first.

          And it would not come back to them. She had been clever, so clever, and cunning enough that she imagines she’s done Philippe proud as well; she’ll tell him of it later, when the wound is cleaned and she can stand without relying on Baldwin to hold her upright. For now, she tells him — she keeps no secrets, not from him, never from him.

          “Evander’s daughter.” Her name, Astoria learned tonight, was Héloise. She hadn’t known of her existence before killing Evander, though perhaps she should have been more careful. Some part of her is wounded to think of it — that he and her godmother might have more progeny besides her, that after a decade of suffering at their hands they simply found another girl, one more willing to fall into line at their machinations. “She was young.”

          “Was?” he asks after a moment, and Astoria nods. With trembling hands, she tries to peel the dress from her body, but she fails, and Baldwin simply tears at the fabric, tossing the layer aside. When she’s down to her shift, he tears that, too, until the wound is exposed.

          “I lured her out. Mocked her hurt. Her anger. She came. No one taught her better, and she followed me as if she imagined that her fury would shield her from me. And I led her to them.“

          He moves only long enough to find rags — did he have them ready for her? She nearly smiles at that. She reeks of ash and blood, her own and a dozen others’, and he handles her with the sort of care that still surprises her even now, as he kneels in front of her, gingerly wipes the blood from her side, taking care not to move what’s left of her clothing away as if he means to preserve her modesty.

          “She was — disorganized. Too angry to know what she was doing, but just angry enough to pose a threat. Half of them focused on her while the other half tried to subdue me. One managed this when he tried to run me through. Another tried to slit my throat, but it was a messy job.” She winces when he presses too hard, and he looks up at her through eyelashes long enough that they nearly cast shadows over his cheeks in the candlelight. “The girl managed two or three. I killed the rest. Tore them apart, like a wild animal.” Or like a grieving newborn. “And when one finally managed to kill her, I left him to bleed out. There were no survivors.”

          “How many?” Baldwin asks after a moment’s silence, and Astoria clears her throat.

          “Seven, including her. Such a tragedy. Six witches, killed by a poor girl maddened by her loss.”

          “You killed six witches tonight? With this injury?”

          “You trained me well, cuore mio.” And when she raises her hand to cup gently against his jaw, brushing a thumb over his lips, she leaves a smear of her blood there. “They were distracted, and disorganized — and I think they were less prepared to kill me than I was to kill them. Funny, isn’t it? They came to kill a monster, and they hesitated. The last one even said, as he was bleeding out at my feet, that his great-grandfather was my uncle. That they knew me from a portrait painted before I came to England.” Her own lips twitch into a humorless smile. “They looked at me and saw what I was then before they saw what I am now.”

          “They were family,” Baldwin says after a pause, and his voice sounds ragged, and he doesn’t clean her blood from his mouth.

          “No. They bore my name and my blood. You are my family.”

          “Have you fed?”

          “Yes. They had companions — guides traveling with them. I suppose there is enough human left in me that I could not drink from them.” She gestures vaguely to the blood coating her front. “This was much worse before I returned. I waited until the last of their guides returned and set the place afire. It seems that the village would prefer a natural tragedy to the truth.”

          His free hand moves to her wrist, and he leans closer to her, close enough that she could count those damned eyelashes if she so chose. For a long moment, she does not inhale, and then she lets her lips part, breathes him in. “There was a survivor?”

          “One, to bring the news back to the rest. They cannot pursue this further without admitting that they hunted me first. The girl — Evander found a girl that looked like me, and he turned her. Her hair was lighter, but she looked enough like me that they won’t keep looking.” She clears her throat. “He must have gone looking for her. She knew my name, my scent — she was wearing my clothes. My clothes, Baldwin, he kept them, so he could send her to hunt me. He thought to make a blade and instead he gave me a shield.” Her thumb brushes over his lips again, smearing the blood further.

          It would take nothing to close this distance. Under other circumstances, perhaps she might. She thinks they would fit together well, if she pressed closer to him now, left her scent on him with each red stain against his skin; she thinks she could stop his breath, if she let her blood spill into his mouth and coaxed her own name from his tongue. He doesn’t move back, and she doesn’t move forward, and she closes her eyes for a long moment. The hand at her wrist tightens. He lets out a breath, hot against her collarbone, and she nearly shivers. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and Astoria feels an aching hollow in her chest.

          “I’ll leave tomorrow to follow him. To make sure that the message is delivered, and that they do not know that I have been here, with you.” For nearly a century, she’s been here, at his side. What will it mean to be without him? The very thought leaves her raw, and she tries to banish it, but she will have to learn to bear the distance. He looks ready to argue and before she can think better of it, Astoria leans forward, presses her lips to his forehead.

          They have touched before — his hands cleaning the gore from her skin, keeping her upright, or her body leaned against his, her fingers entwined with his — but this, she thinks, is new.

        But he knows. She’s certain he knows. And she thinks that he bears enough affection for her to let her go — because otherwise she’ll stay here, haunted by him, infinitely aware of the distance between them that she simply cannot cross. She knew love, as a girl, as a human, but this goes beyond it, beyond language: there is an emptiness in her, a ravenous hunger, and she feels it in her chest and in her belly and in the palms of her hands and in the arches of her feet and sitting in her mouth and on her tongue, and it is at once the most profound pain and the most indescribable joy. It is an innate need, a physical absence, and if she had the words she would try to explain it to him, but I love you is a lie. I love you is a pale imitation of what she feels, and even now, with the blood of her uncle’s descendants drying under her fingernails, she would not wish herself any less the monster she is, because to give up the monster would mean not to have known him.

          Her mother tongue comes closest. You are missing from me.

          “I am not a Clermont,” she says finally, and she shifts back, rests a hand on his shoulder as she tries to stand, her other hand holding her shift up as she moves. “I vowed this wouldn’t come back to your family. I meant it. I’ll sleep tonight, and when I’m able, I’ll speak to your father, and prepare.” She softens, squeezes his shoulder. “And of course, I’ll speak to you.”

          He knows her. Knows her too well. Knows she won’t leave without his agreement to it.

          (And some part of her — weak as she is — wants him to ask her to stay.)

#balldwin #i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers ) #iii. the rest of you (the best of you) belongs to me. ( baldwin x astoria ) #(i had a shower thought and then this was haunting me until i wrote it so) #(she kills evander in 1649 and godfrey dies in 1668 so this could be anywhere in those 19 years depending on how long you want them apart) #(because she WOULD come back as soon as she knew) #(and hell if he doesn't want her to leave after this she wouldn't and we can just find another reason she has to leave) #(if you want me to change anything at all please let me know this was entirely me putting a sad song on repeat and going wild) #(i just could not shake the thought of her killing her own (biological) family because they posed a threat to the family she chose (him)) #(this is probably also the first contact she's had with any of the grims in well over a century)

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

God, I'm sorry for asking about snippets all the time, but they are so good that I can't get them out of my head at all 😅 Could you post a longer fragment, no matter from which chapter?

Lol thank you! Honestly the flashback scenes are way less precious to me since it’s just an expansion on what’s already happened (and I plan on just posting all of them on here at some point) so enjoy the longest flashback I’ve written (so far).

******************************************************************************

Spider’s throat was killing him. He’d spent the majority of the day screaming at Quaritch as he tried and failed to feed him. Thrashed against his restraints and snapped at the man’s hands when he’d attempted to clean smeared food from his face. The effort had exhausted him, his empty stomach growling painfully. But it was worth it to see the frustration in Quaritch’s eyes as he fought to keep the calm facade of a patient parent. After three failed attempts at trying to get Spider to eat, each lasting hours longer than the last, his father had finally given up, leaving Spider in peace.

He stared out his open window, the crisp night breeze caressing his face, the sounds of a forest teeming with life lulling him into a doze. Alone, he could pretend he was on a camping trip with the Sully’s, laying on a blanket between Kiri and Lo’ak, gazing up into an expanse of billions of bright stars. A rare smile graced his face of its own accord as he pictured it, so vividly he could almost hear his friends breathing beside him. “What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout tiger.” Though his voice sounded gentille and incredibly tired, Spider startled his limbs spasming against the restraints.

“Fuck! Can’t you make a noise or something!”

“Sorry kiddo,” Quaritch reached out a hand to cup Spider’s face. Spider tried to maul Quaritch’s hand like an angry guard dog. Quaritch sighed, “you looked so happy there for a second. Made me happy just seein’ y’a smile like that. I was just curious what was goin’ through your head.”

“None of your business! Why are you even here anyway? I thought we were done for the day? Did you sneak in just to stare at me like the fucking creep you are?”

Quaritch hung his tired head, shaking it no, “I have something I wanted to show y’a. I look at it when I’m havin’ a bad day and well…this was a bad day.”

“Wasn’t so great for me either,” Spider said, rattling his chains.

Quaritch ignored him, instead holding up a brown leather book for Spider to see, “This is our family photo album,” Spider’s eyes widened, some of his anger being replaced by the longing he buried deep inside, to see the faces of his biological family. Especially his mother. He instantly wanted to see every last page of the book. But it was in Quaritch’s hold. And he was powerless to look through it himself. “Here,” Quaritch opened it to its first page. Spider looked away. Despite how badly he wanted to see the pictures he would not accept this offering from his tormentor. “These are your grandparents,” Quaritch narrated, “Your mama only had this one picture of her parents. They died when she was young. She bounced around a lot after that.” Spider’s heart bled for his mama. He’d never know how similar their upbringings had been. She was probably watching over him completely devastated.

“These are my folks right here,” Quaritch said, leaning in to try and get Spider to look. “Yeah. My old man there was a mean son of bitch, that’s for sure.”

“Is that where you get it from,” Spider said venomously.

“I’d be a lot nicer if you behaved,” Quaritch shot back, his fatigue getting the better of him. Checking his anger he took a deep breath, moving on, “my mama right here, was the coldest woman you could imagine. I really don’t think she wanted a kid but it was expected of her back then. Drank most days. Yelled a lot. I joined the marines when I turned eighteen and never looked back. I only got these pictures because I was sent their stuff when they finally died. I wanted to throw it all out. But I was seein’ your mama at the time. She convinced me to hold on to at least some of the photos. To not “completely erase them. Even though they were terrible.” That’s what she said.” Out of the corner of his eye Spider could just see the fond little smile on Quaritch’s face as he talked about his late wife, his eyes far away.

Spider squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see that much love on such a cruel person's face. He heard the rustling of a page being turned. Quaritch continued, a little huff of a chuckle escaping his lips as he took it it, “this was when mama and I started seein’ each other. We couldn’t say we were really datin’. I never took her out or bought her flowers or anything like that. But she’d hang out in my office and take pictures of the two of us when I wasn’t lookin’. I think she did that for blackmail honestly but they’re funny pictures now.” Spider wanted to look, he really did. But he couldn’t. It felt like he’d lose if he did.

“And this here is our wedding picture. The ceremony itself wasn’t much but god did your mama look beautiful…” He wanted to see it. “…This was when we were painting your room. Mama has paint all over her but she’s smilin’ like crazy…” It hurt how bad he wanted to look. “…And this is the day you were born. Happiest day of my life.”

Spider couldn’t stand it. “I don’t want to look at your stupid pictures!” He lied. “Just go away already!” A heavy silence fell between them. For a moment Quaritch just sat there. Spider continued to look away. He heard the soft thud of the book being placed on the bedside table. The creaking of the chair as his father stood from his seat. And then his hands were on him lifting him up into a seated position. Spider groaned, all too used to this now but still incredibly annoyed. “Get the fuck off me!” He screamed and thrashed against his captors' hold, knowing perfectly well by now that it was no use but unwilling to give up fighting. Quaritch sat behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around Spider to restrain him.

“Jesus Miles, calm your ass down already! You're tired. I’m tired. Can’t we just relax and enjoy some family time together.” Spider growled at him. To his surprise Quaritch growled back, holding him even tighter. Something about it made Spider feel small, his struggles momentarily ceasing. His father tucked him under his chin then reached for the photo album, picking up where he left off. “This is the day you were born…”

Spider looked away, closing his eyes tight. Quaritch sighed, bringing his legs up to use as a book stand. He then grabbed Spider by the chin forcing him to turn his head. “Miles…” he said in that now familiar parental tone, “….Open your eyes.”

“Or what? You gonna tape my eyelids open.”

Quaritch sighed, “son what’s the point of keeping up the fight like this? Can’t y’a just let yourself enjoy some time with your old man.”

“Can’t you just get the fuck off me and go away.”

“You know you could benefit from being held more,” Spider snarled, “keep provin’ my point son….”

“Uuuggghhh…what’ll it take to get you to go away!”

“Just look at a few god damn pictures would y’a.” It was Spider’s turn to sigh. It seemed Quaritch’s full proof way of getting Spider to do what he wanted was to dangle the promises of solitude over Spider’s head. And it worked every time. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. There were a few different photographs on the page. His mom holding her little bundle of joy for the first time, her face covered in sweat and looking so incredibly tired and yet her eyes were bright with joy, a large grin of absolute amazement on her lips. Then there was one of his father, his smile more subdued but still, you could see him falling in love with the newborn cradled in his arms. And then there was the picture of all three of them, his mama in bed holding him, his father leaning protective over them both.

Spider said nothing as he took it all in. His father tucked his hair behind his ears then hugged him closer. Spider didn’t make a move to fight him on it, or say a single unkind word, too transfixed by the images of the love he was born into. His father turned the page to dozens of pictures of Spider as a newborn, so small, red and wrinkly. The teens' noses crinkled in disgust, “I was an ugly baby.”

Quaritch shrugged, “everyone is. Babies don’t get cute until around six months. Here….” He flipped forward to show Spider himself at six months old. His father was right. With a little time to grow Spider or “baby Miles” had become an adorable infant, huge sunny smiles in every picture, big curious brown eyes, and the wispy beginnings of platinum blond curls. “….see. You were cute.”

Every picture felt like a punch to the gut but now that he had started he couldn’t stop staring. He just looked so happy. Happier than he could ever remember being, aside from his time with the Sully’s. His parents doted on him in almost every picture looking like they were holding the most precious thing in the world. He guessed to them they were.

After being still for so long his father saw his chance to kiss his son on the temple. Spider felt tears in his eyes but didn’t pull away, slumping further into his fathers hold.

#miles spider socorro #spider socorro #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #cabin in the woods #avatar fanfiction #my fanfic

[heaven-s-black-box]

Royal Screw up- The Heiress Finale

Return to File

Recovery date: December 26th, 2019

Description: Prompt by _writing_ideas_ on IG:  When an enemy kingdom attacks and takes over the castle, the princess flees with only her lady-in-waiting and her personal guard. Together, the three of them plot a way to take revenge on those that destroyed their lives. Because the enemy king and queen murdered their families, they will murder the enemy royal heirs. The lady-in-waiting, skilled with herbs, will become a healer at the castle and find a way to poison the 2nd heir. The personal guard will become a knight and make a fatal ‘mistake’ during combat training with the 3rd heir. Finally, the princess will take the identity of the daughter of a foreign noble and court the 1st heir, getting close enough to kill them. The plan goes remarkably well- until each of the three grows to like their target.(Some changes were made)

Notes: Content warning for referenced homophbia? Truely an early research project... No idea what i was thinking

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Word count: 512

Back to directory

It was the night before Ozaki and Akiko’s wedding, as they lay in bed together Akiko thought back to her conversation this morning. Akiko, Osamu, and Atsushi had met up before dawn this morning. They decided that they should kill the heirs and heiress today, before the wedding. Although while going over the plans everyone had seemed unsure of themselves. By now the other two should be dead, Atsushi should have poisoned Ryunoske, and Osamu should have ‘accidentally’ killed Chuuya. Their bodies wouldn’t be found until morning, long after the killers had fled. 

She turned over to look at Ozaki, she had long since dropped her guard around Akiko. She’d opened up about how while Chuuya was her biological younger brother, Ryunoske was not and he had a sister of his own. Gin was actually the head of the military in their kingdom and had no wish to be considered an heiress. The kings had adopted the four of them from the rubble of their village which had been destroyed years prior.

Akiko quietly reached into her drawer, missing how Ozaki shifted. As Akiko carefully straddled Ozaki, she raised the knife up above her heart. Just before she brought it down Ozaki opened her eyes, grabbed Akiko’s wrists and flipped them pining Akiko down. The lighting was horrible, but Akiko could see the stern look on Ozaki’s face.

“Your welcome,” Ozaki said sitting back and letting go of Akiko’s wrists.

“For what,” Akiko sneered sitting up,” killing my family?”

“Yes,” the look of shock on Akiko’s face almost made Ozaki laugh,” Kyouka is almost like a little sister to me. She mentioned a kingdom so cold and traditional that the princess herself was forced to lie to herself. So, miss.Akiko we decided to burn them to the ground.”

“You didn’t have to kill so many innocents,” she raised her voice and pushed Ozaki down.

“Maybe so,” she reached up and brushed Akiko’s hair behind her ear,” but this world has no room for closed minded stuck up assholes. And it’s not like you and your other two friends tried to save anyone.”

Akiko was shaking by now, whether it was with rage, fear, or something else she wasn’t sure. Would Ozaki turn them in, would she kill her here and now.

“My brothers have probably told the other two by now. I have no doubt they’ll take our offer, they’re they are after all head over heels for my brothers. But I’m not entirely sure how you feel. So, will you stay and marry me? Or will you kill me?”

“What? Your not going to turn me in?” Ozaki shook her head softley.

“Then if you’ll still have me… I’d like to marry you.”

“In that case miss.Akiko I look forward to having you by my side. For now. And forever.”

With that Akiko rolled off her and Ozaki turned to face her. That night for the first time in a long time Akiko slept with no fears, and she knew that she’d sleep this well for the foreseeable future.

#researcher s's recovery #royal screw up #bungo stray dogs #bsd yosano #bsd kouyou #yosano x kouyou #rating unavailable

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

#tony stark x daughter!reader #crossover #marvel x reader #avengers x teen!reader #poc reader #reader insert #marvel #tony is a good dad #tony stark x teen!reader #batfam x reader

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 11 (NSFW) (END)

Ch.1 Ch2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

If you are curious to know what my version of Alexia looks like, check here

All maids are dismissed from dinner at night.

The doors are kept sealed shut. It is clear whatever the Dimitrescus are discussing is not for ears outside of their family's to overhear.

You are thankful for the windows you have to focus on repairing while they talk. It keeps you from overthinking and that keeps you sane.

Once everything is fixed, the only physical sign of the nightmarish day you had is Cassandra's sickle, still embedded within what is no doubt a priceless painting.

You approach slowly, as though the weapon has a will of its own and can turn right around to finish the job of gutting you. Your fingers close around the leather handle. The first pull does nothing. The blade is so firmly lodged it won't budge an inch.

But you are nothing if not determined.

That is what you busy yourself with until you see a familiar fly come to land on your shoulder. It doesn't cut at your flesh, but it does bite and tug on your shirt. You understand the silent command to follow.

The insect leads you to the dining room. The table is cleaned, but the daughters are all still there, talking in hushed tones among themselves, poker faces adorning their expressions.

Three sets of yellowish eyes immediately fall to the sickle in your hand. Bela raises an amused eyebrow. The redhead whistles. "That looks sexy on you~"

"Can't imagine it would look as good in me." You give Cassandra a pointed look as you pull the chair beside her, but she only shrugs and leans back, motioning for you to hand it over.

"No... did you throw it at her?" Daniela guffaws. "And you missed?"

A sour grimace comes from the brunette. "I wasn't trying that hard..."

"What if I hadn't dodged?" you ask.

"...well. It's good that you did." Cassandra looks down at her manicured nails, as apologetic as she'll let herself be in front of her sisters.

"Do I want to know what was hit instead of Alexia?" Bela carefully asks.

"You really don't." Cassandra shakes her head and they leave it at that for both their sake.

"So." Bela speaks up after a brief moment of silence. "After our discussion with mother, we are to inform you that you're free to come and go from the castle as you please. Cassandra's key is as much hers as it is yours, now. But. Should any other maid escape using it or learn of our weakness, we'll have to do something nobody here wants."

"We'll have to brutally murder you to make an example. And whoever knows." Daniela cuts in and Cassandra gives her a glare. You aren’t looking forward to learning what their interpretation of the word ‘brutal’ is like.

"Yeah I... I could have guessed that." you reply.

"But I'm sure you're smart enough to not let that happen." Bela states. "This settles everything, I think."

"Not everything." Cassandra retorts, a shadow around her eyes.

"Cassandra, drop it. You heard what mother said." The blonde's tone grows harsh.

"What did she say, other than what we already knew?" comes the sharp bite back. "Why is she so vague every time one of us asks how we came to be?"

"I'm sure she has a good reason. What does it even matter about before?"

"Because I'm sick of having nightmares about people I don't remember!" Cassandra slams her hands onto the table. Both you and Daniela flinch back a bit.

You could have already guessed Alcina is not their biological mother. But a lot of puzzle pieces fall into place before your eyes now. And this new picture you're starting to see of the Dimitrescu family isn't a pretty one at all.

The tension between the two siblings is enough to electrify the air around the table.

"Did you ever consider it's probably for the best that you never do remember them?" Bela asks, her irritation ice-cold as opposed to Cassandra's sizzling fire. "Maybe there's a reason nightmares are all that's left."

You can see your lover's jaw clench. Cassandra's fingers curl into white-knuckled fists as she sits back down. "Don't you get these flashes? These almost-memories?"

"No." Bela says as she stands to leave. "I don't get them. And even if I did, I don't much care for leftovers."

"Daniela?" Cassandra asks, turning to her younger sister.

"I uh... I gotta go do a... thing. Bye now!" The redhead disperses into a swarm right there, before any more can be said.

Cassandra huffs in an exasperated, 'of course' manner. Only the two of you are left in the gigantic room, but you're not sure if you should speak up. You're not exactly confident in your ability to comfort others, nor can you tell where she and you currently stand. It doesn't look like either of you has the energy for any type of loaded talk.

You need each other, that much is as certain as the sun’s rise and fall.

And that's enough, for now.

-

-

Within the next few days, Cassandra and you take your time gravitating back together.

You let the thought of her ripping you in half slowly bleed away and she probably does the same with the notion of you using her weakness against her.

It starts with little touches, on your shoulder or your hand, as you make plans to spend a night or two in your house at the village once the temperature allows it.

Then one evening she comes to your room complaining about Daniela just like the old times and it feels only natural to rub her back like you used to.

Cassandra leans into you like a purring cat.

"Oh, you're so warm..." she sighs, resting her head atop your shoulder.

Absent-mindedly, you bring your travelling fingers up to her nape, pressing at a tiny knot of tension there with your thumb. A little moan slips past her lips –you're aware of just how close to touching your neck they are– and it hits you straight in the gut. You've missed drawing these sounds out of her.

Cassandra shifts against you and every minuscule brush of her lithe form on yours brings sparks to life. Her finger reaches under your chin to tip it her way.

"If you want us to stop here I need to leave now." she speaks with that impatience in the edges of her voice you recognize well.

"What happens if you stay?" you ask. It's not just your body warming at the thought of keeping her close.

"Don't tempt me, Alexia." Her lower lip just barely traces yours as she says it. "I'm not good at resisting and you know it."

You know it. Maybe that's why you tempt her with another almost-kiss in the first place. You could never deny how badly you wanted her and that certainly hasn't changed.

Cassandra crashes your mouths together hungrily, like she's been left without it for too long and now she can't go another second without having you. Her leg crosses over yours to lift herself into straddling you, two strong thighs bracketing your hips tight.

She's trying, you can tell, to not tear both your clothes off and have what she craves hard and fast and right there.

You keep a smirk to yourself when you slip your tongue into her mouth and unhook the buttons of her outfit extra slow. Her nails press into your shoulders. You refuse to speed up.

"Can you go any faster?" she breathily pants once you trail your lips to her neck.

"I can." you say. And lightly bite her.

She's one step away from ripping your shirt off, you can tell from how her fingers curl on the fabric. So you make the smarter choice and distract her with another little bite where you know she likes it best, just underneath her ear, then guide her clothes off of her.

Cassandra pushes you back into the mattress and kisses you again while her cool hands make short work of your clothes. You let her grind her hips into you for some measure of relief as you continue to suck and nibble on her flushed, sensitive skin. Her hands find purchase on your sheets when she no longer trusts her control to have them on you.

"Will you touch me already?" she growls into your ear. You can feel how badly she needs it from the way she shakes on every caress near her center, but this is your payback for that sickle throw.

"I am." you give her a smirk, then lightly push a fingertip into tight, wet heat to cut off her response.

"Ah. I— fuck Alexia!" You've never heard her curse before. And you can't figure out why it's so sinfully hot. “Oh, yes, darling, there!”

As much as she deserves to be tormented for the fright she gave you, you can hardly contain your own lust when she's moving on top of you like this, calling you ‘darling’ and hers.

Both of you come undone not long after, gripping at each other, her soft cries of pleasure filling the room until she lowers her head over your heart, completely spent.

Your fingers gently comb through her wavy hair. For quite some time, Cassandra looks so relaxed you think she has fallen asleep on you.

Until she lifts her head up and nuzzles your jawline, in a way she probably knows kills you every time she does it. Her teeth trap your earlobe. That spells trouble even before she speaks up:

"You didn't think one round would do it, did you? After all, I have yet to pay you back for sneaking into my room and stealing my key, darling…"

Well.

It turns out you won a battle and started a war that lasts throughout the night. And it's only the first, you're sure, of many to come.

For once in your life, you can't wait for what's next.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #fanfiction #writing #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #thank you for all the support it has been crazy

[lin-nin]

Hey I totally loved reading your head cannons about Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and BBH accidentally killing their s/o's. I had a request and feel free to decline this if it's too heavy or whatever. What if those four lost a baby with you? Be it a child or a premature baby.

onHe We really suffering with these four two days in a row, huh? Obvious warning for pregnancy, birth, death, gore, miscarriage, all the like! This definitely is a heavier topic but I have no problem writing it. Obvious afab reader, as well :) Added a bonus Philza bc this angst prompt was screaming for some Philza.

Techno losing his child

When you had told Techno you were pregnant, carrying his child, he had been ecstatic. The way he smiled at you was enough to make you melt, especially as he held you close. He would often hold your forming bump, or nuzzle his face against it. The way he cared for you and the child you shared was so incredibly tender, making sure everything was okay for the two of you, for your unplanned family.

He rarely left you alone for long, not wanting you to be unprotected. He had only been at the farm when you had felt it, the sharp pain in your back. It had you staggering, tears in your eyes and hand fluttering immediately to your stomach. You knew something was wrong, and it was confirmed when the blood was on your thighs. You had screamed bloody murder, causing Techno to rush in, axe drawn. Ready to take down whatever had caused you to scream. Only to freeze when he saw you on the floor, sobbing and screaming.

It didn’t take long for him to understand. Especially with the amount of blood there was. He didn’t grieve at first, so worried for you. You always came first. He had helped you, albeit with shaking hands, clean everything up. He even helped you into the tub, hands stroking your hair from your face. You had grown numb and despondent, barely aware of his words. It hurt to see you like that.

He reassured you that it wasn’t your fault- because it wasn’t. It was nothing either of you could have stopped, but you still blamed yourself. He did mourn, though. While unplanned, he had been excited. He had looked forward to being able to raise a child with you. He reassured you in the end that the two of you could try again. Whenever the both of you were ready.

Schlatt losing his child

Becoming pregnant had not been your intention. Not in your plans for years to come. You had simply been fooling around, drinking with Schlatt and maybe getting a bit handsy. So when a few months had passed and you found yourself sick on the regular, a growing bump on your stomach, you were horrified. Not against it, entirely. Just taken purely by surprise.

Schlatt had been a little more vocal about it, expressing his disbelief loudly. He didn’t want to be a father. At least he didn’t think he did. He had just wanted to have fun. That’s all he ever wanted- to do as he please. He didn’t please to be a parent. Yet it was coming anyways.

As he watched you teeter around, pregnancy increasingly obvious, he found himself much more open to the idea. And when you had given birth- a healthy baby boy- he was there. He was there, and he was sober. He even was teary eyed when he got to hold his son. Everything was okay for a couple of weeks, until you noted that he wasn’t eating as much as he should be. He only seemed to grow weaker from there, before succumbing to whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of him.

You had cried, feeling utterly broken. Like you hadn’t protected him enough. Schlatt lapsed into drinking more than normal. He was angrier, snapping at anyone who even brought up his son. The only person he tolerated it from was you. Especially when you had shown up, eyes red from crying, requesting a drink. The two of you weren’t together, but you could definitely grieve your son together. It was, at the very least, cause for a friendship between you two. You had wanted a son, you had had him, and you had lost him. Schlatt felt largely the same, and the only thing that numbed the pain of the loss was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Dream losing his child

Whatever gods there were seemed to have a sick sense of humor. You loved Dream so much. Everyone knew it, it was clear in the way you looked at him. Everyone knew he loved you the same, too. Especially in the early days, when he didn’t hide his tender touches and soft kisses from the public eye. Even when things started to change, when he grew defensive and angry, he still loved you the same. Even if it was harder for everyone else to tell, you knew. You could see it in his eyes. You were his weakness.

Which had lead to an argument between the two of you. You were a weakness, a liability, in danger. Something he needed to rid himself of. Which was when you had dropped on him that you were pregnant. It wasn’t what you had planned, not the way you’d wanted to tell him. It was almost as if the words had short circuited his brain, tongue turning to lead. He seemed to soften up after that. At least towards you. Only in private. In public he had only seemed to deny any attachment to you vehemently.

Your pregnancy had progressed normally, and everyone quickly knew of it. There were some congratulations, while others worried about Dream’s ability to be a father figure. You didn’t entirely pay them mind. Of course, nothing ever went smoothly with Dream. You had no way of knowing that when you went into labor, your baby would have come out without air in her little lungs or a beat to her heart. You had cried, so much. Holding her little body against you. Dream had seemed to shut down, staring down at his lifeless daughter.

He seemed distant afterwards. He blamed himself, truly. For maybe if he had been a better person, his daughter would have been born alive. He had practically cut you off, saying that he couldn’t risk you going through that pain and loss again due to his actions. It showed him that even if he wanted all the control in the world, there were some things he couldn’t control. The best way he could control this was by removing you from being put in that situation again.

Bad losing his child

Bad was always vocal with his love for you. You adored it, relishing in the way he would proudly tell anyone who would listen about you. It was endearing and you couldn’t help but tug at his sleeve to get him to lean down so you could kiss his cheek. That’s why it was no surprise when you had fallen pregnant. It was still in the early days, then, too. Back when L’Manberg was still around. You didn’t involve yourself too much with it, though. You were too focused on making everything perfect for your baby.

Bad had pampered you like there was no tomorrow. Getting you flowers, and your favorite baked goods from Nihachu. He would carry you around everywhere. He doted on you and made sure you got everything you wanted and that you were as healthy as can be. You adored it, and always responded by kissing the tip of his horns lovingly.

That’s why it was a surprise when your contractions had come early. Far too early. Bad fretted over you, which only seemed to stress you out. The baby was so tiny when she was born. Yet she was alive, and somehow still perfect. Your sweet angel. You loved her, staying by her side religiously. Bad was much the same, scared to even sleep. She spent so long fighting for her life. She was too small, too young, too underdeveloped. You knew it would happen eventually, her chances of survival low. It was why you cherished every moment with her.

Yet when she had finally lost the energy to fight to breathe, in your arms, you bawled. You cried for days on end, letting Bad hold you close as you did. He only held you, rocking you back and forth. He was hurt, unsure what to say o comfort you. Until one day he came to you, a newfound light in his eyes. Claiming to have found your baby, just in a new form. You had followed him, hoping that whatever it was he was right about. As you saw the red vines he presented to you, you felt the same attachment you had felt for your daughter. This really was her, wasn’t it?

Philza losing his child

Philza had been so excited when you had given birth to his son. His second child, at least biologically. He doted on the pair of you like there was no tomorrow. Always telling you how proud he was of you, how much he loved you. Giving your son everything in the world. After all, after losing Wilbur, he was determined to make sure he didn’t lose his second child. Especially when the boy’s wings started to flourish.

Teaching him to fly had always been his favorite thing, especially as he got the hang of it and could effortlessly soar through the skies with him. You would often find shelter under a tree, fondly watching the pair of them fly. As he grew, he had begun flying on his own, straying further from Philza. You never worried. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until one day you watched him get struck in the chest with the bolt of a crossbow, helplessly watching him plummet almost immediately to the ground.

You had screamed, and so had Philza. He absolutely could not lose a second son, but watching his child speed down to the earth, he already knew he had. He looked with a vengeance for who had killed his son, while you scrambled your way over to where he had landed. Finding the culprit was easy, at least with wings. He hadn’t even thought twice when he had found the fleeing orange flurry that was undoubtedly his grandson. His trident wasn’t in his hand for long, being thrown straight into him.

Fundy had been vehement in his last breaths, insisting that Philza couldn’t love him as a grandson, and couldn’t love his other son properly either. Philza had no interest in his words, simply ripping his trident from his body and leaving. He grieved heavily when he had returned to your side, helping you bury your son. Despite his grief, and clear depression, he never pushed you away or distanced himself. If anything, he seemed to hold you closer. As if it would repair the damage left on both of you.

#Anonymous #philza #technoblade #badboyhalo #dream #schlatt #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #badboyhalo x reader #dream x reader #schlatt x reader #mcyt x reader #tw death #tw gore #tw blood #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

[sirensmojo]

"Crossroads" - Michael Gray x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff.

Summary: You visit Michael in the hospital for the first time in years after his departure from your village.

*Masterlist*

A/N: this is my first Michael Gray fic, plz take that into consideration...

“There’s a girl asking to see you, Sir.” The nurse informed Michael, “Do you accept the visit?”

“Who is it?” His eyes lifted up from the white bedsheet he was staring at, blankly.

“A certain Y/N.”

At the announcement of your name, his dull eyes lightened up, but it didn’t last. His mind suddenly got clouded with the hundreds of questions he usually was asking himself when alone.

Were you alright? Did you get out of town as you promised each other, were you still visiting his “mother” on Wednesday's afternoons, were you angry at him for leaving you?

“Yeah, let her in.” His answer was full of apprehension, making the nurse unsure of letting you in. She stayed there watching as the man shifted position, trying to get comfortable as he knew your reunion wouldn’t be easy. “I said let her in,” Michael squinted his eyes at the nurse seeing she was still there, and that’s when she got out.

He exhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself but he couldn’t escape the tremendous flow of emotions washing over him.

You were his first love, the first girl he ever saw as a woman, even if you were still quite young. He just couldn't ignore the way he felt when he used to be with you, even after all this time, even after going out with other girls, your face never left him.

“Michael.” You hesitantly entered, unsure of the fact coming in here was a good idea.

You were in town for quite long now, but never took the time to search for him. Not because you didn't care, it was the opposite.

He had never kept from you his wish to leave your little village and you thought that maybe having you in his life now wouldn't bring him anything but memories of a place he wanted to forget.

But as the time passed, you realized you couldn't get him out your mind, no matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did, it all came back to him in the end.

His smile, laugh, touch and love, you missed everything.

You knew very well the Peaky Blinders, just like every Birmingham residents, and you knew he was one of them.

You used to tease him back then about him leaving the village after burning it or something, and here you were, him being part of a gang. This couldn't fit your Michael best.

He was a very intelligent, talented, kind and good person, but you always knew that deep down, this tranquillity was hiding a darker side, a deeper meaning of who he was.

It wasn't a surprise at all for you when you heard about his new life, you were even quite happy that he could express himself and evolve in a favourable environment.

He seemed preoccupied with something but his eyebrows unknitted at the sight of your face.

Your finger waved curls were perfectly falling on each side of your head, and Michael’s eyes were falling over your olive designed dress, tassels falling right under your knees.

He always loved this green on you, and that only hit you now.

The aggressively sexy green dress you told him you would, one day, wear in the streets so everybody could be shocked and talk about how a woman should dress.

If you remembered this detail this morning you wouldn’t have come in this dress. Now, Michael was looking at you with those gleaming eyes and you knew that when his eyes will lift up to yours, you’ll find in them the same sparks behind his iris as when you were younger.

Maybe coming in here truly was a bad idea.

“Y/N,” he kept a stern face but you were reading him like a book. His hands were clammy, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed along with all his muscles.

You could see he was as nervous as you, and you also knew that if you could read him that easily he probably could do the same with you.

Michael was sitting on his bed straight like an “I”, and that’s only when you sat at his side that he leaned backwards on his pillows.

That idea of knowing each other despite time and distance was what helped you to breathe out the air you didn't realize you were holding, leaving your chest less heavy.

You didn’t dare to stay in his eyes, too occupied searching for your cigarettes anyway. You got one out of their case and handed it to the man that was shamelessly staring at you.

“You changed.” Were his first words, and you couldn’t blame him.

Michael grabbed the cigarette and stuck it in between his fine lips before you came lightening up the tip of it for him.

When he left you were still growing up, rough look and only wearing the elegant blue pants your mother accepted you to wear. You were obsessed with pants and used to always argue about the fact women couldn’t wear them.

“Not a bit, and you haven’t either.” You teased him. It was obvious he changed, even the way he was talking was different, and you couldn’t even imagine what else in him had changed if the external changes were that evident.

His eyes drifted to you once again, what a surprise it was for him to see you dressed up as you were with your high heels.

Men have looked at you before, but the way Michael laid eyes on you was different, you found fondness in it, perhaps love? Because after all, there was still love between you, right?

Else his chest wouldn't raise that quickly and he wouldn't flutter his eyes when you would catch him staring at you.

He chuckled and offered you a warm smile before puffing on his cig. He got lost in thoughts for a moment, doing the french inhale.

Nevertheless, Michael seemed so much more distant than what you remember. Either he was staring, either he was blanking looking into the void.

He never talked too much either, but presently his silence could kill you. You just wanted to feel his hands all over you again, but you couldn't jump on him as if your story happened yesterday.

The atmosphere tensed, “I knew you would start smoking.” You let out in a huff. “Mrs Johnson was so wrong about you, it wasn’t me corrupting you, you always had it in your blood.” You concluded, the words escaping from your mouth as you were failing to stop them.

You got a cig for yourself and Michael watched you carefully, following each of your movements as if you were to disappear in a cloud of smoke if he’d just blinked.

“No,” He clenched his jaw and shook his head as his eyes darkened, "I found it here."

"Find you?"

He nodded slightly as puffing on his cig. 'You don't ask why I'm here?" He raised a brow towards you.

"I read the news, you're a peaky boy now." You winked at him.

"It's not what you think, Y/N." He was chuckling, shaking his head to both sides.

"Well, my Micheal wearing suits and being part of a dirty business, that's what I think and that's what it is. And that's sexy." You were so concentrated imagining him in his suit you didn't realize you called him yours, but Gray noticed it, which led to his lips stretching into a smile.

"I knew you were about to tell it." He flicks his fingers, looking at you with squinting eyes.

You took advantage of that exchange to look at his face, examining each of his features and internalizing everything you missed during these years apart.

"You're sexy Michael, deal with it already." You stated outright.

You always liked that about him. He wasn’t talking much, not with his words at least, but his eyes bore enough emotions by themselves. If they could talk they would spill hundreds of words on the paper with no difficulty.

"Yeah? Well, I prefer when you tell that in other circumstances."

His words echoed in your head and you didn't know if he was making a sexual reference or if he just woke up the horny you.

You tilted your head to the side a second, puffing on your cig before the tip of your fingers instantly reached for his soft skin. You were rubbing the side of his face gently with your knuckles when you remembered something.

“I left the village over a year after you, my mother died and I just couldn’t stay there, you know.” Talking was your way of coping with the fact you were reunited with your teenage love.

“I’m sorry.” His facial expression changed, he now understood why you were here. Not that he was unhappy about your visit, but he wouldn't have thought you’d ever leave this village.

“Everything I know is there” was the answer you gave him every time he encouraged you to go to the cities to try to make a living out of clothing. London, Birmingham, whatever, as long as you would be able to be who you wanted to be, and live your passion fully.

You wanted to make clothes and Michael had always been your number one fan, solely because he was the only one to see the gorgeous dresses you were sewing, but still your number one fan.

“I’m currently working to be able to own my workshop. So everything’s fine.”

He peeked at your lips while you were doing the french inhale, but ended up staring at your lips as if they were mesmerizing him.

You ignored that as well as you ignored all the signs he still felt things for you since you came into his room.

“Michael, the reason for my visit is family. I Know you found your biological mother and all, but you got another family out there, right?” You got up and joined the table to crush your cigarette into the ashtray, a vain attempt to prepare you for what you were about to announce. “Mr Johnson’s gone... I heard he died in his own bed.”

You threw him a glance, you wanted to know what he was thinking at this moment because his face was unreadable. Even though you knew him more than he knew himself, you grew apart from each other, and here was standing in front of you, a version of Michael you did not know.

He was blankly looking at the void in front of him, fisted clenched around the sheets.

You got closer to him, putting down the ashtray on the nightstand and sat down at his side again, but this time you slipped one of your hands into his as your other one, slowly turned his head towards you, so you could look at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered as you were nearing your face to his.

It’s when you felt a little squeeze on your hand that you completely dared to give yourself to him, leaning a slow kiss over his lips.

You then pulled away, but before you could go anywhere, you felt his free hand at the back of your head, pulling you closer for another kiss, this one being feverish.

Of course, he was still loving you. It couldn’t be any different.

His hand shifted from your head to your cheek, his thumb rubbing it softly. His tender fondles contrasted perfectly with the roughness of his kisses. They became needier and needier, as if he waited to do this for a long time.

You both finally let go of the other’s lips when your lungs were screaming for air, your lids directly opening into the other’s eyes.

Here we go again, that twinkling light dancing at the back of his deep blue eyes.

“Something actually changed there,” You caressed his lips with your index, “I didn’t remember your lips tasting this way, neither you being that much of a good kisser.” Your suave voice murmured inches away from him.

You were so close you could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your lips.

“Well, teach me.” His voice aroused something inside of you, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

(ask me if you want to get in one of the tag lists)

#Michael Gray x Reader #Michael Gray #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

****************************************************************

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was...  I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ”   Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But... 

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.  

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears.  With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

#fanfic #Jason Todd #Zombie Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Batsiblings

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 6

Chapter 5

Mammon made it home in record time. He was like a man on a mission with how he marched through the house. He could hear Cyrus crying and he froze.

“No.” he told himself, “No, you are not stopping. Get. Over. It.” The demon forced himself to carry on towards Arella’s bedroom. He could hear her singing softly to the baby as he started to settle down.

“See? It’s okay.” she cooed as she leaned down to press a kiss to Cyrus’ forehead. “I know you miss your daddy, but he has to get his grades back up. We have to be patient and wait for him to get home.”

Cyrus only looked up at his adoptive mother, letting little coos and chirps out as he wiggled around in her arms.

“Arella.” Mammon called, surprising her a little.

“Mammon!” She smiled. “How was your day? I thought you’d be staying later... Is everything alright?”

“No,” the demon replies. “Nothing is alright. This isn’t fair to you. Cyrus is my kid. I’m the one who said I’d keep him and I’m making you do all the work? That’s horrible, don’t ya think?”

“What? No, I don’t mind this.” She smiled, trying to reassuring her partner. “You help enough, Love. It’s not like-”

“No, I don’t help nearly as much as I should. I’m only able to keep him when he’s quiet but the minute my own child starts cryin’, I push him off on someone else- usually you. I’ve been such a terrible mate and an even worse father and for what? Somethin' that’s not even his fault?! I’m bein’ ridiculous. I’ve put all this weight on your shoulders when I shouldn’t have.” His voice began to rise with each word, unknowingly transforming into his demon form which scared Cyrus.

The infant began crying loudly as he hid his face against Arella’s chest. She immediately tried to calm him as the Avatar of Greed rushed forward to them returning to a more human-like appearance.

“Let me have him.” He frowned. Scaring his son was the last thing he wanted.

Arella would only nod as she handed the boy off to his father, watching carefully for any signs of distress from her boyfriend or from Cyrus.

“I’m sorry, Buddy.” Mammon lowers his voice to a softer, quieter tone as he bounced the baby in his arms- a trick that often worked well with Satan during his infancy, “I didn’t mean to scare ya. Please don’t cry.”

His movements were tense at first but soon relaxed as Cyrus started to wind down. Once the boy was calmer, his face buried in his father’s neck which made him stiffen briefly, a grimace on his face as he fought the impulse to pull away.

“Mammon,” she started, “please, don’t force yourself to take care of the baby. It won’t end well.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” he looked to her, “If I don’t make myself do this, I’ll never be able to get past it. I’ll keep him for the rest of the night. I’m sure ya have things ya wanna do, right?”

“I mean I do have homework, but I really don’t want to do that right now,” She admits. “Maybe... we could do something together? Maybe go out with the baby or shopping?”

“It has been a while since you’ve really left the house,” he nodded. The idea of them going out and doing the things normal families do was tempting, he had been longing for that kind of thing. “I’ll get him fed and get him dressed in warmer clothes while you go get ready.”

Arella nodded as she gathered up some clothes and headed to the shower to wash up.

Mammon looked down at his child who still had his face buried in the crook of his father’s neck. The demon padded over to where Arella had been keeping the formula and started to make a bottle for him. It was a lot harder to make a bottle while also holding an infant than he remembered- maybe because Satan wasn’t as squirmy as Cyrus was. He knew the boy was just trying to get comfortable but it was making his stomach twist and tie in knots as he feared he might drop the child. How much did infants take at feedings again? Was it three ounces, two?

Just to be safe, he grabbed the container of formula and went into the kitchen to fill three ounces of water into the bottle before adding the powder and shaking the bottle to mix it together. He ran it under warm water for a bit and tested on his skin it to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Cyrus.

He readjusted the little one in his arms as he gave him the bottle, holding it at an angle where the baby couldn’t take too much too fast. When Cyrus wouldn’t eat anymore, Mammon pulled the bottle way to see how much he’d actually taken. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw how little his son had actually eaten.

“An ounce?” he asked as he looked down at Cyrus with a worried expression. “No wonder you’re always cryin’, kid. Ya gotta be starvin’. Do ya just not like the taste of formula? Is that why you’re not eatin’ enough?” He tried to offer the bottle back to his son, but Cyrus only turned his head away and let out a whine. “Ya really ain’t going to eat any more than that, huh?” He grabbed a kitchen towel and placed it over his shoulder as he laid his son up against his shoulder.

He started to pat Cyrus on the back until he heard a few burps from the child. The white-haired demon pulled the towel off his shoulder and placed it in the wash basket in the laundry room as he readjusted the infant in his arms so he was cradled in Mammon’s arms. He took a few moments to really look at Cyrus for the first time since he was brought home. The Avatar of Greed knew he was lucky sometimes, but he never really processed just how much Cyrus looked like him. As unfortunate as he was to experience what he had at the hands of the witches, the fact that his son had absolutely no traits from his biological mother- whichever one of them that may have been- was a miracle.

“Ya really are my little mini me, aint’cha?” He let a small smile grace his lips, “This might work then. I really could pretend you were always ‘Rella’s kid with me...” He brushed a thumb over the baby’s cheek and felt a warm feeling start to form in his chest as Cyrus’ tiny hand came up to grasp his thumb and he smiled at Mammon for the first time. He felt tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes at the thought. “Our baby...”

The sound of that made the demon hopeful and ultimately, he was glad he forced himself to do this. All he wanted was to be a good father despite everything. He wanted to give his son the loving home he deserved- one he knew the child wasn’t going to get with the witches.

“I’m lettin’ ya know right now kid, your old man can be a real idiot sometimes and I know I’m gonna make some mistakes with ya- I already made a couple- but I think you’re gonna turn out just fine...”

“I think you’re going to do just fine too, Mammon. You’re already on the right path.”

Mammon’s head shot up at the sound of his older brother’s voice as Lucifer came to join him, leaning back against the counter as he looked down at Cyrus.

“This really was the best-case scenario. He could have had any mix of features and yet he turned out looking exactly like you.”

“It really is a miracle, huh?” The second-born smiled. “I don’t think I could have done this otherwise, ya know?”

“I agree. I’m ashamed to say, but if he had looked anything like one of them, I would have killed him on the spot regardless of your wishes. As impossible a choice as it was, I would have put your well-being above all else- including the life of an innocent child.”

“I know you would have. That’s what makes you such a great older brother, ya know? No matter what kind of trouble the six of us seem to get ourselves into, when it really matters, you’re always there to save the day. You always have the answers.”

“For a moment that night, I didn’t.” The first-born admits. “After finding out what happened to you all I felt was wrath and guilt... I introduced you to those horrible women all those years ago when you were looking for a place for that human girl. Back then I could have never guessed it would lead to all of this... and then when we heard Cyrus for the first time, I couldn’t believe it at first.”

Mammon only nodded at that. “I’m glad you didn’t though. Things may be rough right now- I may not be able to completely separate him from the events of those nights, right now- but I think as long as I keep pushin’ myself to do this, it’ll happen eventually. That I’ll be able to love him at some point... All I want is to do right by him, Lucifer. All of us aside from Satan know what it’s like to have a father that never loved us apart from our usefulness as the seven virtues... And I always told myself that if I ever had a kid at some point that I would show them all the love that the old man never gave us.”

Lucifer let out a chuckle at that, “To be honest, I don’t think he even loved us in that aspect either. If he really did, he wouldn’t have sentence Lilith to death. We wouldn’t have had to wage war with him. The only ones who ever loved us were the angels who carried us until our births.”

“Yeah, but the war was inevitable, Lil was just the last straw- for all of us.”

The brothers were silent for a time, the only sounds that could be heard be heard coming from Cyrus as he purred in contentment.

“I’m gonna see if Arella’s ready and get him dressed in some warmer clothes. She wants us to go out with Cyrus and I don’t know ‘bout you, but I think it’s high time to show him off.”

“Have a good time then,” the eldest nodded with a soft smile as his brother headed back to Arella’s room.

———————————————————————-

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Masterlist 2

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon angst #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

[jennycalendar]

Oh your “Jenny being alive would make Giles WORSE in season 6” sounds Fascinating please expand!! (If you would like)

took me a hot minute but thank you VERY kindly for enabling me <3

so as y'all know, the point i always hammer home on dreadfulcalendarwoman dot tumblr dot com is that giles's character arc starts and ends with jenny. like she is the turning point for him in EVERY way wrt the way he chooses to interact with the world, despite her never being top priority in his life. i actually think it is so deeply interesting that buffy's unwavering love for giles is not enough to pull him out of his determined isolation, simply because she is The Slayer and she's Fated To Die and while she's come to terms on some level with her death, giles doesn't ever completely seem able to come to terms with the concept of losing her. so it's actually not gonna ever be buffy who can spur giles towards growth, partly because of that and partly because of the fact that she cuts him SOOOOO much slack. like that's her dad! she wants him to take care of her! she will forgive SO much of him.

jenny does not do that with giles. jenny draws lines and sticks to them to the best of her abilities and we have seen in canon how badly giles deals with those lines -- like in ted, where she essentially says "you being around me is bad for my recovery right now" and he behaves like she killed his dog or something. but the thing is that he still does register and respect that she's got boundaries, and he does try in his own way (hindered as he is by what some might call an unhealthy obsession with jenny) to adhere to the rules she sets down. there is also a very clear problem here in that jenny is super fucking inconsistent and what she allows giles is completely changeable and arbitrary up until the dark age -- like she is deliberately yanking him around because she wants to see how complete her control over him is, and still doesn't totally believe that it's absolute. and then of course GILES thinks that jenny KNOWS she has absolute control over him and is deliberately USING it, which i think definitely contributes to the resentment and anger of the angelus mess. but that's just canon.

ANYWAY i wanted to talk about that because i think it sets the stage REALLY NICELY for giles and jenny's dynamic in a canon where she lives! jenny represents this sense of normalcy and stability in giles's life -- in a lot of ways, his obsession with her is centered around this idea of her as his future wife and long-term life partner, which is something he never thought he would get to have or even WANT to have with anybody. canonically, in season three, the loss of jenny causes giles to double down real hard in his role as a watcher -- reflected in his suddenly incredibly rigid and starchy wardrobe, but also in the way he's no longer pursuing connections outside the scooby gang at all. losing jenny in canon makes it clear to him that he has nothing but being a watcher, and that he will fail at that as well if he allows himself to love someone the way he loved her (see: acathla). and loving jenny brought giles such profound joy that i don't think he ever wants to really handle the concept of never having that again, so of course he throws himself into watcher stuff instead of confronting that.

but in a canon where jenny lives (even in a canon where they spend the third season continuing to be a fucked up mess, which i think is realistic -- it's gonna take time for them to build something healthy after all the we-are-never-ever-getting-back-togethers of season two), giles no longer has that reason to double down as a watcher! instead he has this enduring and consistent possibility that he is allowed to love somebody without it blowing up in his face, and i think that that would genuinely help him so much. he wouldn't need to adhere so rigidly to Watchery Standards, he wouldn't WANT to do the cruciamentum if it ran the risk of hurting buffy -- he would start letting go of this pessimistic, cynical view of the world and the fact that buffy's doomed to die, and work instead on cultivating a home and a surrogate family with jenny. like at his core giles is a homemaker and he longs for community and family and a sense of belonging, just like the rest of the scoobies! he canonically likes being cast as the patriarch but labels himself as an "uncle" because it still gives him an out. i don't think he'd want to wriggle out of familial attachment if this was a world where he never had to experience losing jenny.

THING IS THOUGH, this is still a world where he loses BUFFY. and while canon giles cultivated this very deliberate distance between himself and buffy in an attempt to prepare for the eventuality of her death, this version of giles is one who has started to genuinely view buffy as a daughter and support her in that way as well. there's no emotional distance that he can fall back on to support himself through his grief. he has lost his daughter. in so many ways that is worlds worse than losing jenny before he ever got the chance to really love her, and i think it would have the potential to wreck him on a level that rivals canon.

so season six giles would be handling his grief in the same way that canon giles did -- he's throwing himself into a role that distances himself from the trauma of losing somebody he loves. this time he is ACTIVELY trying to distance himself from buffy -- not "for her own good," but because he just refuses to handle his grief, and even her coming back wouldn't shake his sudden understanding of the fact that she could die just as horribly and permanently again. and so in THIS version of season six he is very aggressively defining himself as Jenny's Husband and trying to push jenny towards having their own biological children and absolutely ignoring the fact that because of his insistent refusal to acknowledge his loss, his marriage is falling apart. he no longer wants to view himself as a watcher or as connected to buffy in any way, because he never ever wants to lose her like that again. that's his daughter. he cannot love her anymore because losing her destroyed him and he can't go through it a second time.

and jenny is just having A Time because she is a smart cookie! she sees why this is happening and she wants to be able to help giles through it! but she literally can't help giles when he is refusing to admit that there's even a problem. and poor buffy who is still dealing with the trauma of being ripped out of heaven also has to deal with and in some ways cater to giles, whose grief prevents him from being there for her in the way that she was genuinely expecting from him. like i think this is a canon where buffy and giles's relationship could have been at the place for her to tell him the truth, but then she comes back and he is a fucking mess and she does the whole depressed repression thing and tries to take care of him. Which Does Not Go Over Well With Jenny.

i'm not sure how this gets solved. i actually wrote a chapter of this a billion years ago wherein jenny and buffy and spike and dawn start forming this weird and incredibly sad family unit after giles leaves for england, and jenny and buffy kinda mutually struggle with this idea of a mother/daughter relationship after years of weirdness between them. i think that the onus would really be on giles to pull himself out of it, because he would have effectively burned his bridges with his wife HARDCORE by that point -- but it would still be a version of giles who had three more years of emotional stability than in canon. there's always a chance.

#asks #restlesshush #meta #headcanon #long post #(a little flfksdh) #rupert giles #jenny calendar #giles and jenny and buffy #ANYWAY this is my ''canon can be worse sometimes'' agenda #i think giles letting himself be buffy's dad and then having her die would fuck him up SO supremely. #and i think giles WOULD let himself be buffy's dad in a world where jenny lived #because jenny allows him to be emotionally vulnerable and encourages him to connect with others #(which is a much shorter version of this post lmaooooo)

[robininthelabyrinth]

For the prompt thing if you're still doing it: what if Madam Yu had sent some of the youngest juniors with WWX and Jiang Cheng when she sent them away from the incoming Wens. I doubt it would've impacted anything long term but I like the idea, i feel like the 3 siblings are all good with kids in very different ways. Also it means that in addition to 3 (not quite) adults who've just lost their home and family, there's a bunch of kids whom the same is true for and it'd be a disaster

1

A-Su was the one who told Wei Wuxian what happened.

The Wen cultivators that had been patrolling the marketplace, approaching Wei Wuxian from his blind spot, and Jiang Cheng had seen them coming –

“– and then shixiong put me down and told me to go back,” he said, crying bitter tears. “He said to tell you that you have to – that someone has to avenge –”

“That idiot,” Wei Wuxian said, his lips were numb. “The Wens – they have Wen Zhuliu there! Doesn’t he know what they’ll do to him –”

And now all three of them were crying, A-Su, A-Min, and A-Lei; the three of them weren’t even proper shidi, having never paid their respects to Sect Leader Jiang as their master, even though everyone had known that it was only because they were too young. They’d been so jealous when A-Jun, the oldest of the lot, had officially become the ninth shidi, before he’d been taken away by the Wens…

Wei Wuxian was helpless. He’d promised Madame Yu he wouldn’t let Jiang Cheng down; he’d promised Jiang Cheng that he wouldn’t leave the children behind, that he’d take them to safety – they’d found them hiding in barrels in the ship Madame Yu had sent them away in. Someone had told to sit and hide until it was safe, and it wasn’t safe, it still wasn’t safe. How could he choose between the two oaths he’d sworn?

But if he didn’t go, Jiang Cheng might be –

“We go,” he decided, even though it was foolish. Jiang Cheng was the only hope of the Jiang sect continuing – as much as he loved his shijie, Jiang Yanli would be unhappy as sect leader, with all the fighting and political maneuvering that the position required. If there was no Jiang sect, the children would grow up sectless, or be absorbed into another sect, and Wei Wuxian hated that idea.

Just as much as he hated the idea of Yunmeng Jiang becoming Yunmeng Wei.

“All of us?”

“I can’t let you stay by yourselves,” Wei Wuxian said, and it was true. The three of them were too young to hide the fact that they were cultivators, and bad at lying; leaving them alone was tantamount to giving them up entirely, and odds were good that he’d never find them again. He couldn’t break his promise to Jiang Cheng like that. “It’s very dangerous, though. You have to listen to me all the time.”

There was no way to balance out his promises. He’d just have to try to do the impossible.

To do – to do what Jiang Cheng had done for him.

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard and went back.

2

A-Lei tugged at the older man’s sleeve. “Can you help us find our ninth shixiong, too?” he asked shyly.

It was officially ‘shixiong’ now, even if Jiang Cheng was – was unwell, as Wei Wuxian put it. He’d barely been able to sit up in bed, but he’d still accepted their offerings of tea and let them kneel in front of him, and just like that they were proper Jiang sect disciples at last.

The cultivator that had helped them get Jiang Cheng away from the Lotus Pier – his name was Wen Ning, he said – blinked down at them. 

“What do y-you mean?” he asked.

“The Jiang sect’s ninth inner-door disciple,” A-Lei explained. “He was flying a kite, and the Wen sect took him away and said he’d done something wrong – but that means he wasn’t at the Lotus Pier when there was all that fighting. Do you think he might still be alive? He’s my biological brother. Well, half.”

“I don’t know,” Wen Ning said, hesitant. “I don’t have much status in the Wen sect, just a few subordinates that listen to me…”

“He’s my brother,” A-Lei said. “And my shixiong. His name is A-Jun and he’s better at shooting than our sixth shidi; he’s strong but a little silly sometimes. Can you try?”

“I can try,” Wen Ning agreed. “I’ll go back and look for him.”

“I’ll come with you,” A-Lei said. “You won’t know what he looks like, otherwise. Da-shixiong has to take care of Sect Leader Jiang, and it’s not like we’re doing anything to help.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Wen Ning said. “My sister needs me to help with something for a couple of days, but I think we can go after that –”

3

A-Jun was missing an arm when they found him, working as a slave in the Wen sect’s army canteen because he knew how to put together Yunmeng food that didn’t scorch the unaccustomed tongue, but he was alive.

There was a lot of crying.

“Everyone else is dead,” A-Min sobbed.

“I thought you were dead!” A-Jun said, his one remaining arm wrapped around A-Lei. “There were piles of bodies!”

A-Su just wailed.

“Can we maybe not be doing this here?” Wen Ning said, rubbing his face until his cheeks were red. “Please? We should go back. My sister doesn’t want me doing anything with you; I didn’t tell her I was going to meet with you. Or coming here. Or anything. I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the Jiang sect after - after what happened. She’s going to be so angry…I really need to get back.”

“You can’t go back yet,” A-Lei said. “Didn’t you hear what I told you before? Da-shixiong is missing.”

“I know Wei-gongzi is missing,” Wen Ning said. “But I haven’t heard anything about him or where he is. I promise I’ll tell you if I do. But really, we have to go! If anyone finds you in the middle of a Wen camp –”

“But you said that they won’t recognize us while we’re wearing Wen robes,” A-Min said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Neither will the Nie sect, if they attack,” Wen Ning pointed out. “Which they might.”

A-Jun looked at his three shidi. “You trust him?” he asked.

“He brought us to you,” A-Lei pointed out, and both A-Min and A-Su nodded. “He’s pretty all right.”

Wen Ning looked surprised, and then flattered to the point of blushing – he really wasn’t very good with compliments.

“Okay,” A-Jun said. “In that case, I have an idea…”

Less than a shichen later, Wen Chao was laughing at Wen Ning as a naïve idiot and Wang Lingjiao threw her shoes at him, but they had their answer – of course the report of Wei Wuxian had to be a false sighting, Wen Chao said between somewhat frenzied laughter, how could it be anything else when they’d thrown Wei Wuxian into the Burial Mounds in Yiling with their own two hands…?

Wen Ning bowed his head and hunched his shoulders, looking the perfect picture of embarrassment, and scuttled out of the room, bumping into Wen Zhuliu and recoiling a bit, then moving around him and out, going back to the kitchens.

“It worked,” he said, shoulders still shaking from the adrenaline. “But Wei-gongzi…”

“We need to go get him!” A-Su said at once. “Even if it’s just his bones. Otherwise Sect Leader Jiang will never stop looking.”

“Don’t curse him!” A-Lei said. “Who says da-shixiong is dead, huh? He’s really strong. He could survive the Burial Mounds.”

“He’s definitely dead,” Wen Ning said gloomily, his hands still shaking, though whether from the revelation, the humiliation, or the close brush with Wen Zhuliu, who he sincerely and utterly hated, despised, loathed. “How could he survive? Especially without a –”

4

A-Min was the one who said, “We need to go find Wen Ning” to Jiang Cheng, because of course he was – A-Lei was the brave one, A-Su the crybaby, A-Jun the cautious survivor, but A-Min was most notable for being straightforward, simple-minded, and stubborn.

In other words, stupid.

“Why in the world would we go find one of the Wen-dogs?” Jiang Cheng snapped.

“Because he might get hurt,” A-Min said, puzzled. “He’s a Wen, after all. None of the new people fighting know that he’s a good one.”

“There’s no such thing as a good Wen.”

“No, Senior Wen is good,” A-Min insisted. “He helped us rescue you from the Lotus Pier, he helped take care of you when you were sick, he even helped us find da-shixiong in the Burial Mound…”

“Wait. That’s how you found Wei Wuxian?! A Wen told you?”

“No, Senior Wen didn’t know. He smuggled us into a Wen army camp and A-Jun had the idea of making him come in with a report that he’d heard someone had seen da-shixiong, and Wen Chao told him that was stupid ‘cause he’d been tossed into the Burial Mounds,” A-Min said.

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking conflicted.

Finally, he said, “Even if he helped you, it wasn’t necessary. Wei Wuxian would have gotten out of the Burial Mounds even without your help – without any of our help.” He looked a bit bitter. “He certainly doesn’t seem to need any of us anymore. With his demonic cultivation, he’s an entire army on his own – who needs all the Jiang sect cultivators I took so much time to raise up?”

“The Jiang sect does, of course,” A-Min said, not really understanding the connection between the two. “Imagine how boring it’ll be back in the Lotus Pier if it’s just you and us and da-shixiong! Actually, why don’t we invite Senior Wen to join the Jiang sect? That way, he won’t be a Wen-dog anymore.”

“Definitely not!”

“Why not? You took everyone else that’d join. You should probably kick some of them out, actually; they’re no good.”

“I will once things are a little more stable – anyway, that’s not the point. I’m not taking in a Wen. We’ll be accused of betraying the cultivation world.”

“Oh, that,” A-Min said. “That’s no big deal. They say that about da-shixiong’s cultivation, too.”

Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is a big deal. Even if it’s about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation. It’s very useful for killing Wens, but it’s still unorthodox. Once this is all over, he’ll have to give it up and go back to normal.”

“But how can he go back to normal if he doesn’t have a golden core?” A-Min wanted to know. “Isn’t that why he invented demonic cultivation?”

Jiang Cheng lowered his hand and stared at him. “What.”

“What?”

“Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a golden core?”

“No, of course, he gave it to – oh, no,” A-Min said. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“A-Min. As your sect leader, I am ordering you to tell me everything you know about this. Right now.”

5

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” A-Min protested. “Not tell him? He gave me an order!”

“You should have joined the Nie sect,” A-Lei said with a sniff. “You’re as blunt as a saber.”

“No way. There aren’t enough chili peppers in Qinghe for me.”

“There aren’t enough chili peppers in Yunmeng for you,” A-Jun said, serving them all soup. “I still can’t believe you told da-shixiong that his congee wasn’t spicy enough – I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more offended, and I’m including the giant fight he had with Jiang Cheng over their cultivation.”

“Don’t worry,” A-Su reassured the dubious-looking Wen sect members that Jiang Cheng had claimed from the Jin sect after the fighting was over. “It’s not that spicy, and anyway we have some milk in case it is.”

After Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian got over their argument, they’d put their heads together and came up with a plausible-sounding argument about how the Jiang sect needed people more than any of the other sects, having lost so many of their own, and that as a result they should be given all the prisoners of war as part of the spoils. It meant they got fewer treasures, and less money, and the Wen sect remnants were mostly old men, women, and children so the deal was actually pretty bad for them, but Wei Wuxian said it would be dishonorable to do anything else and Jiang Cheng reluctantly agreed.

He’d insisted very loudly that it didn’t mean he forgave them for anything, but they’d all seen him kneeling on the ground to show little A-Yuan the basics of archery early in the morning when he thought no one was looking, and no one believed him even a little bit.

Still, it all worked out pretty well. Wen Ning was an excellent archer, even if his cultivation was a bit weak and his body not fully recovered from the beatings he’d suffered in the Jin war camp, and Wen Qing a uniquely talented doctor, and there were a few more useful people besides – even if all the old grannies knew how to do was laundry, that was still useful, since the Jiang sect had lost all its old grannies in the attack on the Lotus Pier.

They could make up the money another way.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think of da-shixiong’s congee,” A-Min said after he finished his first bowl of soup, reaching out for more. “We won’t have to deal with it for much longer.”

“What makes you say that?” A-Su asked, immediately anxious. “Is he sick? The demonic cultivation…”

“No, his demonic cultivation is much better now that he’s using all those clarity rituals,” A-Jun assured him. “Wen Qing started up a correspondence with some people in the Nie sect, since they have all those qi deviations, and they’re working on a whole bunch of new ideas – even the Lan sect is chipping in. With three of the Four Sects working on it, they’ll fix the problem, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I meant, anyway,” A-Min said.

“What did you mean, then?” A-Lei asked. “Why would da-shixiong stop making us his horrible tasteless congee? And don’t say it’s not – being spicy and having flavor are two different things.”

“Well, he might get married,” A-Min said. “During the hunt at Phoenix Mountain, I saw him and Hanguang-jun kissing in a tree –”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen ning #original characters #my fic #my fics #of course things would change if you added a third party observer to any of WWX or JC's scenes #Wen Ning is good with kids #wangxian #in the background #Anonymous

[lunaslethifold]

A Summer in Ottery St. Catchpole: Prologue (George Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!Potter!Reader

Series Synopsis: Y/N Potter used to have a huge crush on George Weasley. She could hardly even function around him. Now fresh out of a long relationship, she can say with confidence that those feelings she harbored for years are gone. George, on the other hand, had barely even acknowledged her existence. But now that Y/N is more comfortable around him, he starts to see the real her. George starts to see her in a new light. Boy, is that bad news for him. 

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Word Count: ~8.4k (Sorry! Future parts probably won’t be this long.)

Find the other works in this series in my masterlist (pinned and linked in my bio :))

A/N: Welcome to my new George Weasley series about this trope! Some things to note: I made the reader female because I am more comfortable writing that. The reader is in Gryffindor because it fits better with the story. I know it can be frustrating to read something that doesn’t fit you correctly and I’m very sorry! I also decided to make the reader adopted because not everyone looks like Harry, James, or Lily. I know I certainly don’t! This series takes place the summer after Goblet of Fire and before Order of the Phoenix, and will not be following canon completely to make room for the reader. I’ve no idea how long the other parts are going to be, but they probably won’t be this lengthy as this part covers the entire backstory. This is also the first fanfiction I’ve written in years, so please let me know what you think! Sorry about any off grammar and please enjoy! Thank you for reading!

The first time George Weasley laid eyes on Y/N Potter was on the day he was set to return for his 2nd year at Hogwarts. This time around he was more confident approaching the platform than he was his first year, but that wasn't saying much. On their first ride on the train, he and Fred had already started wreaking havoc on Percy and Charlie. 

George grinned at the other people waiting around the train. In particular, the first years that looked like they were about to pass out. His eyes landed on a girl that was standing alone, almost hugging the bar on her trolley. 

He nudged Fred. "Mate, does she look familiar to you?" he said, tilting his head in the direction of the girl.

"Dunno, maybe we saw her at Diagon Alley?" Fred offered, shrugging and turning his attention back to the chocolate frog in his hand. George glanced at the girl one last time and jumped into a conversation with Ginny. 

-

The first year didn't cross George's mind again until he was sitting in the great hall watching the sorting ceremony. He wasn't paying much attention, too preoccupied with the rumbling in his stomach, until he heard Professor McGonagall call out a name he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Y/N Potter."

She wasn't nearly as famous as her brother, sure, but that didn't stop the whispers from breaking out among the students. Professor McGonagall not so subtly cleared her throat and the hall quieted as the girl that caught his eye on the platform approached the stool. That's where he had seen her! Pictures of her and her family were all over the papers after the dark lord was defeated. She was much older now, yes, but the remnants of her younger self were still present on her face. Especially her eyes, George thought, but he quickly shook it out of his mind.

Perhaps he had been the one to recognize her because he'd seen photos of her long after they were the only thing being printed in the papers. Ginny kept a stash of things related to Harry Potter in her room and he had accidentally stumbled upon it. Maybe that's why Ginny only talked to him about Harry, or maybe it's because George was the only one who stopped to listen.

The entire Weasley family was close, but the twins and Ginny got along great. That might've been due to the fact that Bill and Charlie were much older than them and many of their pranks were directed at Percy and Ron. While many people thought of Fred and George as a package deal, which they were in a sense, it seemed that Ginny was one of the only people to think of him as his own person. Somehow she recognized the differences and George appreciated that beyond what words can express. 

He'd have to write Ginny about Harry Potter's sister coming to Hogwarts. The sorting hat seemed to be having a toss up about which house Y/N belonged to. He recalled the conversation he'd had with the old hat just last year. George was a Weasley; a Gryffindor through and through. But when the hat was placed on his head, it spoke about him having Slytherin and even Ravenclaw traits. Ultimately he was placed into Gryffindor just as the rest of his family had, though.

After a couple minutes of debate the sorting hat yelled out, "Gryffindor!" Y/N looked almost relieved and joined the Gryffindor table, not too far away from George and Fred. The rest of the sorting ceremony was uneventful and soon enough (though not soon enough for the twins), the food appeared on the plates before them.

A couple of times George caught his gaze slipping towards Y/N out of curiosity. Once their eyes met, he smiled at her. She gave him a nervous smile back and quickly turned back to her food. He thought it was a bit odd but brushed it off and continued to joke with Fred and Lee.

-

Y/N and George didn't see much of each other that year. They were in different years and Y/N seemed to spend more time out of the common room than in it. Him and his brother made the quidditch team as beaters, and occasionally he'd see her in the stands. 

So no, Y/N Potter and George Weasley were not friends. He couldn't even remember if he'd spoken to her before. That year flew by just as his first year did, and then he found himself on the train back home.

Next year Ron would be joining them at Hogwarts and Charlie wouldn't be coming back. That summer was spent playing quidditch with his siblings, teasing Percy for becoming a prefect, and going down to the village near the burrow. 

-

Y/N, on the other hand, was not having a good summer like the Weasleys. She had returned to the Dursleys’, but she was beyond ecstatic to see her little brother again. When she left for her first year at Hogwarts she had felt extremely guilty for leaving Harry alone and even went as far as to write Dumbledore asking if he could come a year early. He had reassured her that he would be fine and she should take the opportunity to see the world their parents lived in. 

Harry and Y/N weren't blood related, but they knew they were real siblings regardless. Similarly, Lily and James Potter were Y/N's mom and dad, even though their blood didn't run through her. Y/N's biological mom was Lily's best friend since the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express. She clashed with Snape, but remained loyal to Lily through it all. Not long after graduating she got married to Y/N's dad due to the brewing war. Lily and James were made the godparents of Y/N and weeks after her birth, her parents and their entire family were killed by death eaters. She was taken in immediately by the Potters and assumed their last name for safety. Soon little Harry came along and Y/N became a big sister. 

Unfortunately, as Voldemort set out with the intent of killing Harry, Lily and James' attempt to keep Y/N safe was put in jeopardy. The family of four went into hiding together. They were betrayed and the dark lord came to their home in Godric's Hollow. Lily knew that he was after Harry, not Y/N, and kept her promise to Y/N's biological parents that she'd keep her safe. Y/N was shoved into the closet in her and Harry's room, along with a muffling charm to silence her cries. That night not only did she hear her father getting killed, she saw her mother die trying to protect her younger brother through the shutters on the door. She heard her mother's cries and saw an evil, evil man try to murder her brother. Even though she was only two, Y/N possesses more memories of their parents and that night than Harry does.

This resulted in Y/N becoming extremely protective of Harry. Oftentimes this would cause her to get into trouble with the Dursleys. She was Harry's fiercest protector. When an escort came to collect her for Hogwarts, both her and Harry were introduced to magic and what their parents really were. She almost didn't go because she couldn't bear the thought of Harry having to deal with their relatives without her, but she eventually agreed. An escort brought her and her luggage to platform nine and three quarters on September first, but had to rush off right after. There she stood alone with her trolley, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. She surveyed the people around and her eyes landed on a group of redheads, most of them being children. The ones that were commanding the most attention were two twin boys, one of which was fiddling with a wrapper and one who had the brightest grin she had ever seen. She stared at him for a second before rapidly looking away. What she hadn't noticed after was the boy she was staring at was now looking at her.

On the train she didn't have much luck either, meeting a few students but ultimately sitting alone in a compartment reading a book. There was no telltale sign that she was a Potter, unlike her brother, who had the scar on his forehead. At the sorting ceremony, however, people began to take notice of her when they heard her name. The sorting hat had a long conversation with her about what house she belonged in. The big argument was about Gryffindor or (house of choice), but Y/N asked to be put in Gryffindor, like her parents.

Y/N took a seat at the Gryffindor table, trying to shake off everyone talking about and looking at her. The rest of the sorting ceremony went by and soon everyone was digging into the feast. Katie Bell, a fellow first year Gryffindor, struck up a conversation with Y/N and others around her. She relaxed a little and surveyed the rest of her housemates. Her eyes unexpectedly met those of the boy who she had been staring at on the platform. His lips turned up into a smile and a wave of anxiety crashed onto the girl. She smiled shakily at him and felt her cheeks warm up. Y/N quickly turned her attention back to the food sitting on her plate, which seemed quite interesting to her at the moment.

The rest of that year passed by quicker than she liked and soon enough she was back at the Dursley household. She was happy to see Harry, but Hogwarts was now more home than Privet Drive had ever been. The only thing missing was her brother, but he was due to follow right after the summer. 

So it couldn't be going by any slower. 

Between her uncle's shouting and her summer reading, she quickly found herself wishing the break would zoom by. She thought she was used to it, but she was getting fed up with Vernon and Petunia's constant nagging.

"Clean the kitchen!"

"Set the table!"

"Dust the living room!"

"Hurry up with dinner!"

Y/N would never admit it, but quite a few times she had to put her wand out of reach when it all became too much. Especially when Harry was getting the heat. She'd much rather have all the yelling directed at her than Harry.

-

September first rolled around and Y/N was accompanied by Harry to King’s Cross. Hagrid had dropped them off and left. As they pushed their trolleys through the station, Y/N found herself quite turned around. Which platforms was it between? Which wall were they supposed to enter through? Last time her escort had to apparate her and her things onto the platform because they were running behind schedule. Now she was wishing she had paid more attention because she couldn't for the life of her find the dang entrance. 

Both of the Potter kids were growing nervous as the time ticked closer to departure. Just as it seemed all hope was lost, a familiar head, or rather heads, of red hair caught Y/N's eye. She looked at them and Harry followed her gaze. The Weasley family was moving through King’s Cross at a rapid speed. 

As they passed, Harry and Y/N heard a snippet of their conversation. "-packed with muggles-" said the oldest woman.

"Muggles?" Harry whispered, turning to his sister. "Isn't that… Well come on then!" He raced after the woman.

"Harry! Wait!" Y/N ran after him and by the time she caught up he was already talking to them. Y/N shook her head. Why couldn't Harry have just followed them onto the platform? Why'd he have to stop and talk to them? She'd never say it out loud, but Harry wasn't always the brightest when it came to things like this.

Before them stood five people, presumably all family members. An older woman, three of Y/N's housemates, and a younger boy. 

"Excuse me," Harry said to them as Y/N approached. "Dyknow how to-" he gulped and tried again. "How to-”

"Get onto the platform?" finished the woman. Harry blushed a little bit and nodded. She gave him a kind smile. "Yes, of course dear. Don't worry, it's Ron's first year too," She gestured to the younger boy that stood nearby. He half smiled at them.

Harry smiled brightly back. "I'm Harry."

"Ron Weasley." 

Then it seemed everyone turned to Y/N expectedly. Her mouth went dry and she shifted on her feet.

"And you're Y/N, right?" spoke up one of the twins. Was it Fred or George? She nodded shyly and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Why was she nervous all of a sudden? Maybe she wasn't as outgoing as Harry, but she was never this shy.

"Well, it's nice to meet you two. Now to get onto the platform, you just run straight into the wall there. Percy, you show them," said their mom, breaking the silence. The oldest one, Percy, who Y/N recognized as three years above her, ran to the wall and disappeared through it. "See? Just like that. Now you, Fred."

"He's not Fred, I am!" said the twin who spoke earlier. Ah, so Fred had introduced Y/N.

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother," said the other twin.

"Oh! Sorry George." She beckoned him forward.

He walked forward and spoke again. "'I’m only joking, I am Fred." Fred smiled and ran through the wall. Oh, so it was George that had introduced Y/N after all.

"Can I go next, mum?" said Ron.

"Yes, and Harry, why don't you go with him?" she replied. Ron and Harry ran towards the wall. Something small slipped off Ron's trolley without him knowing. 

"Ron!" his mother called, picking it up and running after him through the passage. Now it was just George and Y/N.

"Did you really not know how to get onto the platform? Or did you just want an excuse to talk to me?" he laughed and grinned at her.

Y/N felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Erm… I-" she cleared her throat. "Last year my escort apparated me onto the platform," She looked at her shoes.

His smile didn't falter at her awkwardness. "Ah, that explains it. Well, have a go at the platform then." 

-

George and Y/N saw a little bit more of each other during Harry and Ron's first year. Often she could be found talking with Harry, Ron, and even Hermione around the fire. He could tell that they had a really close relationship. 

Sometimes they'd be hanging out or sitting with the same group, but only because of their siblings or Katie Bell, Y/N's friend, who was now on the quidditch team along with Harry. He started to see Y/N in the stands during games much more often now, probably because her brother and friend were playing.

George thought Y/N was, well, a bit odd. She was awkward, much more than her brother who got on quite well with him and his twin. She always seemed to be tripping over her words and fidgeting when he saw her. But she was the same way her first year, so he just boiled it down to her being shy.

The first time since Y/N's sorting that George thought about her for more than a few fleeting seconds was at the end of that year. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned after stopping Professor Quirrel from getting his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone. Percy, Fred, George, and Y/N were all summoned to the hospital wing when they returned.

Y/N looked utterly distressed. She even began to walk ahead of them on the way. When they reached the hospital wing, she bolted straight for Harry on the other side of the room. She hugged him and whispered a conversation with him. Harry had smiled and seemed to reassure her. 

Then, before him and his brothers even had a chance to step forward, Y/N turned towards his brother. "Oh, Ron!" she exclaimed and then pulled him into a hug, just like the one she had given Harry. Then she took his face in her hands and tried to look him over. "Are you alright?" Ron nodded and smiled at her. Y/N let go and rushed to Hermione's side.

George was taken by surprise. Sure, Harry was Y/N's brother, but she seemed just as concerned about his brother's wellbeing and Hermione's. He'd have to ask Ron about it later. George smiled, shook his head, and approached Ron's bed.

-

Just as the previous summer, Y/N and now Harry went back to their Aunt and Uncle's. Harry and Y/N had gotten into big trouble when Dobby the house elf came to visit. Uncle Vernon was so angry that he put bars on their shared bedroom window and forbade them from returning to Hogwarts. Luckily for them, a certain family of redheads came to the rescue. 

While they were up late talking in their bedroom, they heard something out of their window. Outside was a flying Ford Angelina, driven by Fred Weasley, with his brothers George and Ron sitting in the car. They ripped the bars out of their place on the wall and pulled up to the window.

"Ron!" Harry smiled widely at him. Y/N couldn't stop the grin that grew on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to rescue you, of course! Now c'mon and get your trunks," Ron replied. The two Potter siblings heaved their trunks into the car through the window. As Harry handed Hedwig's cage to Ron, Y/N heard stirring from the other side of the house. 

"Harry, hurry. I hear Uncle Vernon," she spoke calmly, but there was a panicked expression on her face. "Go on, you first."

Harry began to climb out of the window and into the car with Y/N's assistance. Just as Harry was safely inside, Uncle Vernon barged into the room.

"Y/N!" Harry shouted, pointing at their uncle. Her eyes widened and she not so carefully leaped out of the window and towards the car. She caught onto someone trying to help her in, but she didn't have time to process who it was because Uncle Vernon's hand had enclosed around her ankle. She kicked her leg and tried to heave herself up, but the grip was tight on her leg.

"Let go, you tosser!" called out the person she was clinging to. She kicked hard one last time, and while his grip faltered, she pulled herself up by the person she was clinging to. The door slammed shut and she found herself face to face with one of the Weasley twins. Ron and the other twin were in the front seat, while she and Harry were sat on either side of the twin in the backseat. Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks and she let go of him. 

"Fred, you're going the wrong way," said the twin, George, next to her. Fred turned the car around. Ron and Harry had already jumped into a rather animated conversation. 

Y/N cleared her throat nervously, then spoke up. "Thank you. For saving Harry... er, us."

"It was nothing, really," said Fred, cracking a smile. 

"Yeah, someone had to. I mean, they've got bars on your window. Your uncle must be mad," George said. Y/N laughed. Never had she heard anyone but her and Harry speak bad about Uncle Vernon. 

The rest of the ride was spent making conversation with the twins, but Fred did most of the talking. Soon they landed at their family home and went inside. The five of them were caught by Molly Weasley, who gave Harry and Y/N a warm hug.

Their trunks were lugged inside. While Mrs. Weasley was scolding her children, Y/N rushed to hers and opened it. She pulled out a box wrapped in newspaper and handed it to Harry. "Happy birthday, Harry. Sorry it's not anything special, but when we go back to Diagon Alley we can get something better," she smiled at him. 

He smiled back and said, "Thank you Y/N, and I know whatever it is, it's brilliant." He unwrapped the paper to reveal a pair of red and yellow gloves that matched his scarf perfectly. "Did you- did you make these?"

Y/N smiled bashfully and nodded. "'S alright if you don't like them, but I saw the leftover yarn when I was doing laundry and-"

"Y/N," he cut her off. "Thank you. I love them. They're perfect." Y/N smiled widely and pulled Harry in for a hug. What the two didn't see was the Weasley family watching the exchange. 

Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly. "Now who wants breakfast?"

-

For the rest of that summer Y/N bunked with Ginny Weasley. Although she acted a little starstruck at first, they were fast friends. Even though she could talk to Y/N, she still hadn't spoken a word to Harry. Before long the nine of them had to head to Diagon Alley to get ready for the upcoming school year. Ginny was starting her first year, Harry his second, Y/N her third, and the twins their fourth.

While they were shopping for books at Flourish and Blotts they ran into Draco Malfoy. He didn't skip a beat before immediately insulting all of them.

"And what, Potter number one has nothing to say this time? Nervous around your boyfriend?" said Draco to Y/N, gesturing vaguely to the Weasleys standing nearby. "I wouldn't be surprised. They're blood traitors just like your 'father' was." He put air quotes around father. "But I suppose after marrying a muggle's child, he'd let anyone into his family, if you could even call it that." Y/N took a menacing step forward, then felt someone step up to her side. 

"Malfoy, you have no idea what real family is," one of the twins said, standing to her left. She turned and the "G" stitched on his sweater stared back at her. Fred joined him. 

"Yeah, Malfoy. Harry and Y/N are more family than all of your relatives combined," Fred said from his spot next to George. 

"What's that supposed to mean, weasel?" Draco crossed his arms.

"Well I don't reckon Lucius Malfoy is very loving to his son," George shot back. Y/N's jaw dropped to the floor. 

"How d-" Draco began, before his father came up to the group. The rest of the conversation passed by in a blur for Y/N. As they continued on getting their school supplies, she found herself glancing at George and getting deeply nervous when he was around her.

Oh no, she thought. Y/N Potter was developing a crush on George Weasley.

-

Throughout her third year, Y/N avoided George as much as she possibly could. She thought that if she avoided him, her feelings would go away. Unfortunately for her, since they were in the same house and shared some of the same friends, this was proving to be extremely difficult.

So, yeah, George saw less of Y/N than he should have. Not that he noticed, of course. She was more of Ginny's pal and Harry's sister than his friend. But at the end of the year she proved she was someone that would be sticking around.

When Ginny had gone missing, Y/N was extremely upset. Harry could see it, Ron could see it, and even George (who didn't pay her much attention) could see it. But even feeling that way, she made sure to comfort the Weasleys. Even Percy, who had spoken to her the least out of all of them. 

Then, when Harry, Ron, and Ginny returned from the chamber, she practically sprinted to the hospital wing. Just like last year, she ran to Harry's side and made sure he was ok. Then, she turned to Ginny, who it seemed everyone had turned against, and hugged her. Ginny looked relieved that finally someone wasn't scolding her for what happened to her.

George smiled gratefully at Y/N, then started talking to Ron.

-

Y/N and Harry were staying at the Leaky Cauldron the summer before her fourth year. They had left Privet Drive after an unfortunate incident involving their Aunt Marge and escaped on the knight bus. There they ran into the Weasley family, who had just returned from Egypt.

"And after we got there-" Y/N was sitting and listening intently to Ron, who was recounting his trip to Egypt.

"Goodness Ron, how many people are you going to tell about it?" interrupted Fred, walking down the stairs. 

"What? I've barely told anyone, George," Ron replied, glaring at him.

"Actually, I'm George," came a voice from someone who was descending the stairs. Y/N suddenly found the newspaper in front of her very interesting. Fred glanced at her. "And I reckon Y/N's got better things to do than listen to you talk about some dusty old buildings." 

Y/N felt blood rushing to her cheeks and bit her lip. While Ron and George continued to bicker, a wide grin made its way onto Fred's face. He looked between Y/N and George. Fred had noticed something off about them and he had finally figured it out.

Fred Weasley knew Y/N's secret.

-

"Detention, Miss Potter," Professor Snape's voice called out. She tried to stay out of trouble, but it seemed that Snape had a particular dislike for her. She groaned inwardly and bit her tongue. "My office after dinner." Y/N suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and nodded.

After classes, Y/N found her way to Professor Lupin's office. He was sort of like her newly appointed godfather after she was adopted by James and Lily. Her and Harry spent a lot of time with him. 

"-And Snape's given me another detention. I swear he's got it out for me, Professor," she said to him. Lupin laughed and shook his head. "It can't be fair, can it? I mean, I'm a good student."

"That you are, Y/N. But did you ever stop to consider that Professor Snape was not having the best day? Or other students were putting him on edge as well?" he replied, going through the papers on his desk.

"Well, maybe." She paused. "But I swear he's been like this since first year. It's almost as if he's mad at me for something I didn't do. Like I was cursed from birth," she said jokingly. Lupin smiled as if he knew something she didn't. He opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to decide against it. Just then, the door to the office was opened.

Harry was standing in the entrance. "There you are, Y/N. I thought I'd find you here."

"Harry, what's up?" Y/N said to him, smiling slightly.

"Dinner is nearly done and you hadn't shown up, so I thought I'd see what you were doing," he replied.

Y/N shot up from her seat. "Dinner's almost done!?" She began to gather up her things. "Dang it, I forgot I had to go to Snape's right after dinner. I better get going then. Bye Professor. Harry. Thank you!" She waved as she rushed out of the room. 

Y/N sprinted down to the dungeons and turned the corner, checking her watch. She should've been there already. Since she wasn't watching where she was going, she smacked straight into someone. She slowly looked up and her eyes met cold ones.

"Miss Potter, it is probably useful to look where you are going when you're running. Although I suppose silly things like that aren't important to someone who is late to detention," Snape's monotone voice said. Behind him stood Fred and George. One of them stepped forward and helped her up. "Well, since Mr. Weasley is so keen on helping you, Miss Potter, he will be joining you in reorganizing the potion supplies." The one who helped her up groaned. "Alphabetically," he added. The other twin moved to join them. "You, Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, will be cleaning the trophy room and I will be accompanying you. You can't possibly think I'd trust you two alone. Now run along. I'll be checking on you in an hour." 

Y/N didn't have to be told twice and started towards the supply room.

"I'm Fred by the way," said the twin beside her.

She nodded. "Ah, that's what I figured." Fred smiled.

"That's what you figured?" he laughed.

She joined in. Well, you're not giving me butterflies, she thought. "It's not like you guys are the same person."

"Thanks for noticing," he grinned. "But I would've thought it was because of a certain reason."

"A certain reason? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/N replied, fiddling with her sleeve. She giggled slightly. Had she been that obvious?

"Well, judging by the way you act around George-" he started. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Y/N cut him off with, "I don't know what you're talking about." She walked ahead into the storage closet.

"If you say so." He put his hands up in surrender. They began to work on organizing all of the ingredients. "How did you end up in detention anyways?"

"Who knows anymore? Snape always has something to say about me." She changed her voice to imitate Snape's. "Potter, that potion is terrible. Potter, stop daydreaming in class. Potter, you're enjoying yourself too much. Potter, I am a greasy fun sucker."

Fred laughed loudly and Y/N joined in. "Yeah, it always seemed like ol’ Severus had a problem with you and Harry." Y/N smiled gratefully. Finally someone else validated her feelings. "But I never guessed that Y/N Potter would be spending her evenings in detention making fun of her professors."

"Well maybe you need to get to know me better, then."

"Yeah? Well maybe I will."

That was the start of Fred and Y/N's friendship.

-

Fred knew that Y/N didn't feel comfortable being herself around George. He wished she was, though. They were fast friends and he had grown quite fond of her. Not wanting to push her out of her comfort zone, Fred spent time with her without George. He liked to push people's buttons, but also knew what buttons not to push. Fred understood.

George did not. He always wondered why Fred went off to hang with Y/N Potter of all people. She was nice enough, sure, but he had no idea what they would do or talk about. So he was confused when Fred was so excited about her coming to stay with them for the rest of the summer. Ginny also seemed to be bouncing off the walls at the thought. Maybe it was the whole idea of the Quidditch World Cup in general that had everyone energized.

Soon enough the Potters and Hermione joined the Weasleys at the burrow. Fred and George were on their way back from town when they arrived.

Ginny opened the door and leaned out. "Oi! Y/N's here! And Harry and Hermione, too." A wide grin spread across Fred's face and he walked ahead into the house. George followed shortly after and stood in the doorway. They didn't notice him standing there.

"Fred!" Y/N said, giving him a hug. George thought that they were both grinning like madmen and a small smile made its way to his face.

"About time you showed up," Fred said to her. He turned to the others. "Finally some more people to test out our products. Ron can't seem to handle it." 

"Fred!" Ron said, glaring at him.

"Products?" Y/N said, turning to him with a questioning look.

"Yeah, I'll show you. Come on! I've got so much to tell you," Fred replied, rushing up the stairs. Y/N raced after him and they engaged in a rather animated conversation.

"I guess I should join them before Fred blows Y/N's head off," Ginny laughed and made her way towards the stairs. Now it was just George, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Aren't you going to join them?" said Ron to George.

"Ron!" Hermione said, lightly hitting him with her book.

"Ow, what?"

"Join them?" George spoke up, confused.

"Yeah, aren't you friends with Y/N now? We see you guys hanging out all of the time in school," said Ron.

"Come to think of it, I guess I only really see her with Fred," said Harry, shrugging. He sent a questioning look to George.

"Well-" George started, but they were interrupted by a loud bang from upstairs followed by raucous laughter.

"Fred! That better not be my room again!" Ron said, sprinting up the stairs. Harry laughed and ran after him, followed shortly by Hermione. George felt inclined to go after them.

When he got there he found that no, it was not Ron's room again. They were in his and Fred’s shared room. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were standing in the doorway. He moved closer and peered over their heads, which wasn't hard because he was quite tall. Inside he saw Ginny, Fred, and Y/N all sitting on the floor huddled together.

Ginny had her hand resting on Y/N's shoulder. Y/N was leaning close to Fred, who had something in his hand. They all had smiles that they couldn't seem to shake off. All three of them seemed so… in their element. George couldn't quite describe it, but it was odd seeing as he never really saw Y/N like this.

"What's going on with you lot?" George called, feigning sternness.

"Nothing!" the three on the floor called in unison. Y/N hadn't looked up at him yet, but his siblings were staring up at him. They stared for a few silent seconds before Ginny burst with laughter, falling onto her back. Fred started laughing too, and he even saw Y/N covering up her giggles between them.

As the time to the world cup ticked closer, George couldn't help but notice how close his twin and Y/N had gotten. Usually the two of them had the same friends, so it was a little bit odd for George. He brushed it off, though. Fred saw something in her that he didn't, so what? Fred had a good way of making people come out of their shell, he supposed.

Before long it was the morning of the day they had all been anticipating. They began their trek to the portkey. 

"George, you've got the face paint right?" Fred said to him when they left the house. George's eyes widened.

"No, I left it on the table. Keep going, I'll catch up." He dashed back into the house and retrieved what he needed. When he exited the house again, the group was in the distance. He broke into a jog to catch up with them. When he was catching up to the back of the group, he caught a snippet of a conversation.

Y/N and Harry were lagging a little bit behind everyone. George didn't mean to snoop, he swears. He just heard by accident.

"-spending time with him. Y/N, are you and Fred, er… dating?" Harry said to his sister. George had thought the same thing. But no, Fred would've told him. Besides, Fred was interested in Angelina.

"No! No. W-we're not, I promise. We're just really good friends," Y/N sputtered out quickly. 

"Well it's just that you only hang out with him and not George. You have to admit that's a bit odd," Harry replied. She shrugged her shoulders. "Do you have a crush on him?" he said, teasingly.

Y/N bit her bottom lip. "Have a crush on…?"

"Fred," he finished for her.

"No. Definitely not." She sounded sure this time.

Harry grinned. "Brilliant. We can't have my sister getting a boyfriend, can we?" She pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

"Alright. Whatever you say. I wonder what Cho would think about all of this." She walked faster, heading to Ginny and Hermione.

"What-" Harry looked bewildered. "How-"

"I'm older than you. I know everything," she called over her shoulder, smiling cheekily.

George waited a minute before he decided it was time to make himself known. "Fred! I've got it." He waved the paint in the air.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination. There, his father was talking to Amos Diggory. Just then, a figure jumped out of the tree they were standing by. He recognized the boy as Cedric, who was in the same year as him.

Hermione, Ginny, and Y/N exchanged glances in front of him and Fred. The two of them moved to pass the girls and greet Cedric. He saw Fred poke Y/N's side playfully as they passed.

"Diggory!" Fred called out. Cedric turned around. The three of them weren't the best of friends, but they got along just fine. Maybe if the three were in the same house, they'd know each other better. "What's up mate?"

Nearby Y/N, Hermione, and Ginny were talking. "He's kind of cute, don't you think?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione smiled bashfully. "Yes, I suppose so."

"What do you think, Y/N?" Ginny said, turning to her.

"Oh, er… yeah. For sure," Y/N answered. 

"You don't sound very sure of yourself," said Hermione. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Well, you're staring over there," added Ginny, laughing slightly. Yeah, at your brother, Y/N thought to herself. She quickly averted her gaze.

"Am not!"

"Don't look now, but I think Cedric noticed," Hermione said with a slight giggle in her tone. Y/N glanced up to Cedric looking in their direction. Fred seemed to have followed his gaze and was now looking at them too.

A cheeky grin spread across his face. "Oi, Y/N! Come say hi!"

Y/N approached them and shot Fred a glare. Cedric stuck his hand out to her. She took it and they shook hands.

"Cedric Diggory."

"Y/N Potter."

-

After the crazy night at the game, the trek from the portkey to the burrow seemed much longer than before. In fact, so much so that George was lagging behind the rest of the group. In front of him was Fred and Y/N, who seemed to be in their own little world. Just as earlier in the day, he caught a snippet of a conversation that wasn’t meant for his ears.

“So, what’d you think of Diggory?” Fred said to Y/N in a teasing manner.

“What did I think of… Cedric? Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“A nice guy?” Fred laughed and Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think he took a liking to you…”

“A liking to me? What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

“Oh, you know. He just seemed a little bit… flirty, if you will,” Fred said with a large grin on his face.

“No, I will not,” Y/N replied with the hint of a laugh in her voice. “He was just being friendly. Besides…” she leaned closer to Fred. “You know I fancy-”

Just then George heard a loud crunch that came from the bottom of his foot. He had stepped on a branch.

Fred and Y/N whipped around.

“George!” she exclaimed. “I- We- We didn’t quite s-see you there!” she said, wringing her hands nervously. 

He felt a little bad at her mortified look. “Oh yeah, sorry about that. I was way behind and just caught up now.” Okay, so he lied. But she did look relieved, so it didn’t matter much to him.

A smile crossed her face. “B-brilliant.”

“Y/N, I think I heard Harry calling your name,” Fred said after a long silence. Y/N sent him a grateful look and headed to the group in front of them.

-

The Yule Ball was fast approaching and all of the students at Hogwarts seemed to be buzzing with excitement. Everyone except Y/N, of course. She had been stressed about Harry in the tournament and more obviously, she had not yet secured a date. Y/N was silently wishing that a certain someone would ask her, but she tried not to get her hopes up. He had never really given her much attention anyways. 

Y/N was sitting in the library doing her potions homework. Despite the upcoming holidays, Professor Snape still decided to pile on work. She lifted her quill to dip into the ink bottle that was sat on the table. 

“Y/N.” A voice from behind her cut through the silence of the library. Several heads turned their way. On top of that, the person had startled her so much that she knocked the ink all over her parchment. She tried to contain her huff and turned around.

“Yes?” she said in the politest tone possible. 

“O-oh I’m sorry about that,” said the boy before her.

Her gaze softened and a polite smile made its way to her face. “Don’t worry about it. My essay was rubbish anyways. Kenneth Towler, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. And I highly doubt that. You’re one of the top students in your year, aren’t you?” he replied, fidgeting with his hands. Y/N felt a bit of heat rise to her face and smiled brighter. And were those… butterflies in her stomach? “A-anyways, I was wondering if you were going to the ball with anyone…?”

She was a bit startled by the question. “The ball? Oh no, no one’s asked me.” Y/N’s smile faltered a bit. 

“Oh wow, that’s surprising. Well, I was wondering if-” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if y-you wanted to go with me? To the ball, I mean,” he stammered. Y/N smiled to herself at his awkwardness. It was endearing, in a way.

When she opened her mouth to reply, a head of red hair caught her attention. It was George, walking towards the exit of the library. Her eyes followed him for a split second, as if that would will him to come over and ask her to be his. She shook the thought out of her head. Come on, Y/N, he’s barely even spoken to you. 

“You know what, Kenneth? I would love to.” 

And just like that the idea of George Weasley got smaller and smaller inside of her head.

-

“Fred! Fred!” a voice called from down the corridor that the twins were walking through. It was Y/N’s. They turned towards her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Y/N Potter,” Fred said, grinning as she approached. George thought that she seemed to have an extra pep in her step. She came forward and grabbed Fred’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it Fred. Someone’s just asked me to the ball. I didn’t think anyone would,” Y/N said. A bright smile was spread across her face. “Oh, and, erm, hi Geroge.” He nodded and smiled at her in acknowledgement.  That was a bit unusual. She never really seemed to speak to him unless he spoke to her first.

“Oh, rubbish. You’re a right catch, Y/N Potter. Who’s the lucky guy?” replied Fred.

That just seemed to make Y/N’s smile wider. “Kenneth Towler.”

This shocked both Fred and George.

“Kenneth Towler? The Gryffindor? In our year?” Fred asked, eyes slightly wide. Y/N nodded. “Did you think you wouldn’t have any other options?” he teased, snickering slightly. Y/N lightly hit the side of his arm with the parchment rolled up in her hand.

“Oh hush, Fred. He’s a really nice guy. And handsome, too,” she said, laughing lightly. Oh thank goodness, George thought. She knows he’s teasing. For a second there he thought she’d get offended, but then he remembered that Y/N and Fred knew each other really well. They were quite close. Best mates, one could call it.

“Handsome! Handsome?! Well, I guess whatever floats your boat, Y/N. He’s definitely not Fred Weasley handsome, but he’s okay I suppose.” George let out a laugh at his brother’s word. 

“Funny, coming from you Fred. I reckon Angelina will have to wear a blindfold to the ball if she even wants a chance at having a good time,” she replied. This made George shake with laughter. Y/N smiled brightly at him and fiddled with the bottom of her jumper. Did Y/N potter just make a joke? He had never seen it before. Perhaps that was why Fred had her around so much. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but someone called his name and that was that.

-

The night of the ball soon came and Y/N was scrambling to get ready. Her hands were only slightly shaking as she was putting on her necklace.

"Are you nervous, Y/N? It's only Kenneth," her roommate, Katie said as she took the clasps of the jewelry out of her hand. She clipped it for her.

"That's the thing, Katie. It's not just Kenneth. He's the first boy who has shown interest in me and I really want him to like me," Y/N replied exasperated. 

"The first boy-" Katie sputtered in surprise. "The first boy? Y/N, I can name four guys off the top of my head who've fancied you."

"Katie, I've no idea what you are on about. If anyone liked me why didn't they tell me or ask me out?" Y/N laughed slightly at the idea. She would've known if someone was interested in her… right?

"Well maybe it's because you never showed interest back," she replied, shrugging. Perhaps she had spent too much time looking at George to realize anyone was looking at her. Well, no matter. The fact was she was going with Kenneth tonight. Y/N finished with her accessories and stepped back to look in the mirror. Her roommate made her way to the mirror as well. "Wow Y/N, you look absolutely stunning."

A bright, genuine smile made its way to her face. "Thank you, Katie. Truly. And I know your date is going to be absolutely gobsmacked when he sees you." The two girls shared a laugh, then made their way down to the great hall.

That night Y/N hung out with Fred and Angelina, but she spent the most time with her date.

A few days later, after her second official date with him, she had an important conversation with Fred. The two of them were lounging in the courtyard.

"Y'know what, Fred?" she said. He hummed in response. "I'm completely over your brother." A large grin was spread across her face. 

Fred sat up from leaning on her shoulder and turned to face her. "Are you really?" Y/N nodded excitedly. It was sort of… liberating to her. She felt she wasn't held back by her unrequited nonsense anymore. "That's surprising, seeing as you've fancied him since what? Before your fourth year?"

"Before my third year, actually. When you lot saved me and Harry from the big bad Dursley household." They both laughed at that. "But now I'm free." Fred raised his eyebrows. "Free from having to worry about George. Or what he thinks of me, at least. Now I've got Kenny. I don't know how to describe it, but he just makes me feel… good."

Fred grinned at her. "Kenny?"

"Yes, Kenny. You know I give everyone nicknames, Frederick," she replied, rolling her eyes.

-

George had a great time at the Yule Ball. There was dancing, singing, and good times. The Yule Ball also brought change, but it would take a little while for him to notice it.

Y/N seemed to have a magical night at the ball with her date. They went on a few dates after that and Kenneth asked her to be his girlfriend. She agreed of course, and they seemed happy as they could be for the rest of the year, given the circumstances. George saw that while Y/N still didn't really hang out with him, she came up to Fred while he was there more often now. He started to see more of her. Kenneth must be helping her come out of her shell, he thought.

Near the end of the year, George and Fred were walking through an empty corridor. They then turned the corner and were shocked to see a crying Y/N being comforted by Harry. Or at least he was trying to comfort her. He looked a little helpless. 

"Y/N!" Fred exclaimed, sliding onto the bench next to her. He threw an arm around her comfortingly and said, "What's wrong?"

Y/N sniffled. "It's Kenneth," Harry answered for her. George felt a pang of anger go through him. He wasn't close to Y/N, but he still felt bad for her.

Fred looked even more angry than he felt. "What did he do?" said Fred, who George could tell was trying to contain his anger. She lifted her head from her hands.

"He didn't do anything. It's- It's-" Y/N started before stopping and letting out a shaky breath. "It's his parents. They're moving to- to-" she said, putting her head back into her hands. 

"They're moving to America," said Harry, sensing that her throat was closing up.

“Moving to America?” Fred said incredulously. “Why?”

“They don’t think it’s safe here anymore,” she said, lifting her head once again. She tried to control her breathing and wiped her tears. “He has to sever all ties here and… I said I’d wait for him. Wait until this is all over. But he said that I’d be happier without waiting. Without him…” A fresh set of tears made their way to Y/N’s eyes. “But I’m not really happy now, am I?” she laughed at herself pathetically and tried to sit up straighter.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Fred said, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“Thanks, Fred.”

-

After George’s sixth year at Hogwarts everything seemed to change. You Know Who was back in his own body. Cedric Diggory was murdered in cold blood simply for being with Harry. The Order of the Phoenix was reestablished.

And another thing. Something about Y/N Potter had changed in George’s eyes. The summer before his last year at Hogwarts, the image of her in his head changed. And he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Please let me know what you think and ask me any questions you have! My askbox is always open! Thank you so much for reading!

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #george weasley series #george weasley fic #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fic #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hp #hp fanfic #hp series #harry potter series #harry potter x reader #harry potter x sister!reader #george weasley x potter!reader #george x reader #george #weasley #gryffindor #george weasley imagines #george weasley reader insert #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #hogwarts

[bellafarella]

Please have mercy on me

This is a short one shot following 11x08 so if you didn't watch it yet then avoid this until you do since there are spoilers in it!

Summary: Mickey can’t believe his eyes. Terry’s dead.

Notes: Hey everyone!

Just thought I'd write a short one shot to fill in a missing scene between when Ian and Mickey find Terry's dead body and then Ian going to the hospital, and what happened when they both were home at the end of it all.

I hope you like this 💖

*********************************

Mickey can’t believe his eyes. Terry’s dead. His eyes instantly fill with tears as he looks at his father - a man who has abused him his entire life, a man who couldn’t put his own bigotry aside to love and accept him for who he is, a man who constantly tried to kill him for being who he is - with a plastic bag over his head, his eyes lifeless, his tongue sticking out slightly from his mouth. Mickey feels Ian’s hand touch his shoulder from behind him and the tears just fall from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. He sniffles and Ian turns him around and wraps him into his arms. Mickey lets himself be embraced by the strong and comforting arms of his husband, letting the tears fall as he cries silently in the crook of Ian’s neck.

Ian’s hand moves up and down his back, soothing him as he holds him tight, whispering into his ear, “I’m here. I love you. We’ll get through this together,” over and over in the softest voice.

A ringing blares through the silence of the moment and Mickey tries to pull away. Ian doesn’t let him so Mickey says, “Ian, answer your phone.”

Ian lets Mickey go so that he can grab his phone from his pocket. “It’s Carl,” he says looking at the screen.

“Answer it,” Mickey nods, wiping away a tear from his eye as he turns back around to look at his lifeless father. He can barely register anything Ian’s saying on the phone to his brother after he answers the call with, “This isn’t a good time.” Mickey’s too caught up in his own mind as he continues to look at Terry. He’s wanted his father dead for - God, he can’t even remember how long. The first time he ever thought about his father dying was when he was only four and Terry beat the shit out of his mom. He wasn’t in the room but he could hear her wails and cries, her pleads for him to stop. He curled up in Mandy’s bed with her, holding her close as she cried in his arms. She was only two, and he was only four, and all he could think was please God, kill dad. From them on, everything just got worse. His mother died and Terry focused his abuse on him and Mandy instead. Mickey thought every day how he wished something would land on his head and kill him, or a deal would go bad and he’d get shot, or he’d get put away in prison for the rest of his life. Those thoughts intensified when Mickey realized he’s gay. He knew he could never let Terry find out or he would murder him. He lived years of his life afraid that his father would kill him. He pushed Ian away because of that fear. In the last few years, Terry has tried to make him miserable every step of the way and now that he finally got what was coming to him, Mickey has no idea what to feel. He feels relieved but he also feels devastated. He worked so hard to make sure Terry was being taken care of in his state even though he didn’t deserve it. Mickey vowed that he would be better than his father. He wanted to be a better man, a better husband, a better father one day. Hearing Terry tell him just hours ago that if Mickey wasn’t gay - that he wasn’t who he is - he would have been a decent son. Those words tore Mickey’s heart in half because all he’s ever wanted was to be loved and accepted, and he knew he would never get that, even if he wasn’t gay. Terry was a hateful, spiteful, evil man, and Mickey knows deep down that that would never have changed.

“Mick?” he hears Ian say before he touches his shoulder. Mickey turns around to look at his husband's face, his soft green eyes looking at him with so much love and compassion. “There was an incident at Liam’s school with Frank. Carl brought him to the hospital, everyone’s headed there now.”

“You should go,” Mickey says instantly.

“No, I’m going to stay with you-”

Mickey shakes his head, “No, you should go, be with your family.”

“You’re my family,” Ian tells him, his hand coming up to caress Mickey’s cheek, wiping away some more tears with his thumb.

Mickey smiles at him softly. “I know, but your siblings need you.”

“But-”

“I need to handle this,” he says, nodding his head back towards his fathers dead body behind them. “I’ll be okay, Gallagher. I’ll see you at home later.”

“Are you sure?” Ian asks, his eyes searching Mickey’s.

Mickey shrugs his shoulder, “Not really but we both have responsibilities to our fuckhead fathers so I’ll be fine.”

Ian nods, letting out a deep breath. He leans forward and kisses Mickey’s forehead softly before pressing his forehead against his, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Mickey whispers back.

Ian pulls back to look at him, his hand still holding his face. “I’ll see you at home. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Okay.” And with that Ian rushes out the door to head to the hospital. Mickey takes a deep breath before turning back around to see Terry.

Sister Mary-Luke comes back into the house and she explains what happened. Terry was rude, vile, and just plain evil. He also begged her to be taken out of this life. “He was an evil man and did not deserve the patience and love you were giving him,” she tells him. “He begged for mercy and - well, this isn’t a life worth living, my child. It had to be done.”

Mickey nods, his eyes filling with tears again. He doesn’t blame her. Terry has been begging to die since his shooting. Mickey just never expected it to happen like this and definitely not today.

*

Mickey’s glad Ian took the ambulance so it makes it easier for him to call 911. Mickey removes the bag from Terry’s head and closes his eyes and mouth, propping him back up. The EMTs come and Mickey explains how he just arrived back to check in on his father and found him like this. He sent the nun home before they arrived, and he said that he thought his cousins were here watching him. They declared him dead and Mickey bit his tongue from saying no shit. They explained that they would bring his body to the mortuary and that Mickey can go by tomorrow to deal with his body and any plans he has for his funeral.

Mickey thanks them when they leave with his father’s dead body before walking back home. For the first time in a very long time, the house is empty. There’s no life, no sound, nothing that makes this house a home. Mickey trudges up the stairs and makes his way into his room. He strips down before going to take a hot shower. Thankfully there is still hot water and he uses it up as he lets himself cry and cry, letting the water wash away his tears.

He crawls into bed in his boxers and a black tank top, with his phone. He texts his idiot cousin who abandoned him today to tell him Terry’s dead. He also tries calling Mandy. She doesn’t pick up so he leaves her a quick voicemail, “Hey, it’s - uh, it’s Mick. Listen, Terry’s dead. Call me when you can.” He tosses his phone on the bedside table before pulling the covers over his head and praying he can fall asleep and forget this day happened.

*

Mickey wakes up to the feeling of someone curling up behind him. The covers are no longer consuming him so he turns around to see Ian in bed beside him, he’s in his boxers and a t-shirt too, his eyes so soft as he looks at him. “Hey,” he says, his voice horse.

“Hi,” Ian whispers back. “You okay?”

Mickey shrugs. “They took his body to the mortuary. I can go there to deal with it tomorrow.”

“We will go there to deal with it. I’m sorry, I didn’t stay with you,” Ian tells him.

Mickey reaches for his face, pulling him closer. “Don’t be,” he says before kissing Ian softly on the lips. Ian kisses him, his hand pulling him in by the waist. That’s as far as it goes before they just rest their foreheads together. “How’s Frank?”

“He has dementia from being a drunk,” Ian tells him with a sigh.

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

After a few silent moments, Mickey asks, “Is Liam okay we missed his thing?”

Ian smiles softly which makes Mickey feel a bit better. “He understands. He won the iPad.”

“No shit,” Mickey chuckles. “Good for him.” Ian nods, his smile faltering slightly. “Hey,” Mickey says softly, his hand hooking under Ian’s chin so he looks at him, he has his own tears in his eyes. “Today has been a shitty fucking day,” he says. Ian snorts out a wet laugh before Mickey continues, “But we’ll get through it, together.”

“I should be telling you this,” Ian says, sadly.

“You did, now it’s my turn,” Mickey says softly, caressing his cheek. Even though Frank isn’t Ian’s biological father, he’s been the only father he’s ever had. Frank was a neglectful, alcoholic, junkie, asshole of a father but now that he’s slowly losing his mind, it’s going to be a lot for the Gallaghers to handle, especially his husband, and Mickey is going to be there for him just like he knows Ian will be there for him as he goes through all his feelings and all the planning of his father’s passing.

“I love you,” Ian says softly.

“I love you,” Mickey says back before curling up against Ian’s chest, feeling his arms wrapped around him again. The two of them both silently cry in each other’s arms, letting all the misery they’ve felt for years growing up with abusive fathers and all the sadness they feel over what has and is happening to them, just wash away as they comfort each other, knowing that even through all this pain, there will be light and happiness again, because they have each other, always.

#my fic #shameless 11x08 #shameless s11 #shameless spoilers #ian x mickey #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic #gallavich fan fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #also on ao3 #read on ao3 #ao3 fanfic #shameless us #gallavich spoilers #tw death

[ecclais-fouoras]

SOFTER ON THE INSIDE

"if you hurt me again, I swear I won't forgive you"

Previous one here

WARNING ⚠️: Slight violence, mention of abusive relationship and sexual violence.

Dinner time was around the corner, sometimes you and mina arrived at the table at the same time. Gaining looks from everyone else at the table, they had already been suspicious when they'd heard you make her laugh, to which she had replied that she was just laughing at how ridiculous you were.

People were really wondering what you had done to gain Ms Venable's clemency.

Wilhemina venable was a strong woman, she needed to keep her bitter and strong look in front of everyone else, even if she truly loved you, at times she had trouble trusting herself enough to let you help her and show you her true self. When the lights were down she'd let herself sweep in your love as you'd hold her in your arms, and spray kisses up and down her neck. You're love making was tender and passionate most of the time, you were still surprised at how well she could let you fuck her recklessly. Here moans filling your hears so nicely.

She had never known love before you, and she convinced herself she would never. But you showed her true adoration.

At dinner tonight everyone was sat down she entered the room and made a move to lower herself on the chair, but as she was bending down, a pain shot trough her back and she stepped outwards before stumbling. She fell on her ass and Everybody started laughing.

You immediately stood up to pick her up, leaning down to help and she flinched when your arms reached her shoulders. She lashed out suddenly at you. "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING MS Y/L/N." She stood back up regained her scary posture, straightened up her back. The look in her eyes was unlike anything you'd ever seen, the mina you knew was far gone. With those eyes she could have killed you. You're hands reached up to hold her steady and you muttered.

"Mi..ms..venable....are you okay.."

Something flashed before her eyes and she raised her hand in the air and slapped your face. You stubbled and backed away into the corner of the room.

"Everybody out."

She ordered the other survivors and guards when they didn't move.

"Grey's too"

You were shaking badly and starting to hyperventilate. Head resting between your knees as you held your body in your hands protectively.

She tried to get on the floor next to you when she realized what she had done.

"Oh god. I'm sorry y/n" when you didn't reply she tried to place her hand in your hair, the movement in your shock state made you push her away.

"DON'T touch me !"

"Y/n.."

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME"

"IF YOU want to have it this way."

She got back on her feet and left the room.

The evening passed and you were able to calm down a bit. You're heart was still racing fast form the panic attack and you're palms were sweating.

Another grey came to you and tried to make you feel better. They talked to you and brought you some water.

When you had fully came back to your  senses you got up.

The nauseated state you were still in made it hard for you to go back to your room but you still managed to make it.

You were definitely not expecting wilhemina to sit on the edge of your bed.

"What are you even doing here"

"Come on. You can't be mad at me for such a simple thing"

"Get out. I'm not in the mood. I'm too tired to fight with you"

She stood up and went to you.

"Y/n..."

"Seriously mina. Go back to your room, maybe some sleep will actually show you how much you fucked up"

"How does it feel to be such a touchy feely person"

"I'm not a "touchy feely" person you slapped me ! In front of everyone"

"I can't treat you any differently than anyone, they'll get suspicious..."

"I don't care. We are dating ! And the real problem isn't that you can't treat me different. It's that that's how you treat everyone else."

"You never had a problem with how I treated people, that's who I am."

"No. That's not "who" you are, that's how you act. Now get out" she let out a Laugh before trying to place her hand on your arm.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this ?"

"Because I was trying to help you up and you hurt me ! For no reason ! I saw the look in your eyes Mina ! I saw what you are capable of."

"Is that really what you think of me ? Do you really believe I'm going to hurt you ?"

"I honestly don't know. And I can't take that chance so please leave"

"I..i don't understand...i thought..i thought you loved me ?"

"I do. But that has nothing to do with what you did"

"I don't understand... Slapping is nothing.."

"Slapping isn't nothing"

"My parents slapped me and I turned out just fine !'

"Yeah, that's why you're scared of being vulnerable, never show you're feelings, has a shit tone of self hatred. Seriously ? "

"I..I'm.."

"Yes slapping isn't the most violent act ever, bit it's usually the first one before them. I can't let you hurt me. I can't even take the chance."

"I...I would never hurt you again...I'm sorry I was just out of my mind... humiliated..I didn't know how to react anymore..."

"I know. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am."

" I never thought you'd react so badly"

"That's the thing, you don't know what people might feel when you hurt them. Some of us have trauma, some of us have complex and singular PTSD, some of us can't bear being yelled at, some of us have spent our lives being degraded by people we loved, you can't just go around treating people like shit."

"I...know..I'm just..."

"Trying to protect yourself I know, but you don't need to anymore, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere unless you hurt me ever again, and I love you"

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are, you should be"

"I really am, that's why I came here, I feel terrible about it. I should have never raise a hand on you" she didn't know all of your past, of course you had talked about it a bit, but you left the hardest parts away, she didn't know about the tremendous amount of times where she had apologized to you like this after hurting you, you swore to your life you'd never fall for that again, and here you were forgiving her, you needed to make things clear, wilhemina had her own demons, but sharing them would make them easier to fight. Together.

So, you took you're clothes of and went to bed, signaling her that she could do the same. Your gaze following her silhouette across the room while her hand ran through her hair, and the other one adjusted her nightgown.

You both laid facing each other, mina's apologetic Look piercing your skin and you battling away when was the right moment to speak. Her hand found your cheek where she'd hit you, her delicate fingers caressing you as if to say, 'you are safe, I made a mistake and I'm deeply sorry, but I love you still'. You took a deep breath and started

"..I reacted badly because...I've been there before. I've let it happen once, what's to say it's not gonna happen again. Here. Where I don't have anywhere else to run to. I can't let that happen again, it hurt to much then. It took me years to build myself back up, years of medication, therapy, and it had taken me years before that to build me again. I've been shattered to many times, I've had people break me for fun, for love, for traditions for family to many times before."

She listened in silence a single tear leaving her eye as she tried to sniff quietly.

"There was the person I called my best friend, there was my biological father, there were my other relatives. They all hurt me by using my body for their own pleasure, some more violently, but in the end Sharon was the only one who apologized, she was the only that I loved and the only one who claimed to love me back. In the end she ended up with her hands around my throat and my blood on her clothes in front of my son."

Her hand found my neck while she tried to bring me, or was it herself, some comfort.

"And I need you to promise me that you will never ever do anything like what you did to me today, I don't care if they know, my safety should be more important than hiding our relationship."

"I know...I'm sorry for what I did today, I love you so much" she said while crying sofly.

"And I love you too mina baby"

You said cupping her face and kissing her lips gently.

"Now we should sleep it's late and I'm exhausted."

You both laid in each others arms, the live you had for each other was enough to heal the bleeding wounds that you both wore on your heart.

A/n sorry for the delay I'm very very very very busy

#sarah paulson fanfiction #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhelmina venable #soft!mina #sarah paulson characters #wilhemina venable #ms venable

[parkrstark]

dna be damned

written for @whumptober2020 day 2: kidnapping, pick who dies Even though Peter tries not to think about it, he knows Tony's favorite is Morgan. Why wouldn't she be? She's his real, biological daughter. Peter's just an intern that stuck around. But when a bad guy uses this against him, it feels even worse than he imagined. 2.k, ao3

"Keep it moving, brats. I don't have all day." The masked man behind Peter jabbed him in the back with the tip of his gun again.

Normally, this was when Peter made a quick witted response, but he couldn't. Not when he had Morgan by his side. If he said one wrong word, she got punished. He learned that the hard way when he didn't answer a question and she got slapped. 

That was the first and last time he let her get hurt. 

Peter, on the other hand, had an eye swollen shut, a bruise covering the left side of his face, and dried blood dripping from his eyebrow. 

He wasn't even Spider-Man; he was just Peter Parker picking up his little sister from school. They were snatched before he could even feel his spidey sense could go off.

That was a few hours ago, and now, they were being dragged off to another spot without even a word of what they were doing. 

Peter wasn't sure where they were going, but wherever it was, he was going to make sure that Morgan stayed by his side, unarmed. He made sure that she kept up and didn’t give the man any excuses to hurt her. 

They stopped in another room, that was much more open than the other room they were crapped in. He shoved Peter in a chair first and started tying his wrists and ankles to the chair. Peter didn’t struggle, even though he could have easily beat him. “Don’t hurt her.” 

“Oh, I won’t. As long as she behaves.” 

Morgan was too terrified to say a word. She’d been quiet since she woke up. She was strong for a 5-year-old. The man wasn’t as rough with her as he was with Peter when he tied her down. 

“Wait here.” 

Then he was out of the room, and a few minutes later, he was back with another man. This man, however he wasn’t masked, and Peter recognized him immediately. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked like hell. His eyes were wide and he was dressed in dirty jeans and a sweatshirt. Ever since the snap, he’d retired from being Iron Man. He could barely move his right arm anymore and the right side of his body was heavily scarred. He shouldn’t be out here getting his heart rate up. His voice shook when he spoke. “Hey, kiddos. Didn’t you remember when I told you to come right home after school? Mom needed help with dinner.” 

Tony wasn’t as good with his sarcastic remarks as he usually was, not when his children were tied to chairs. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark--.” Peter was cut off with a quick slap. 

Tony raised his left arm. “Hey, now...no need for all that. I brought you the money. That’s all you wanted, now let them go.” 

The man laughed. “Are you really this foolish? Yes, the money does help for all of the pain you caused my family...but I’m not done.” 

“Then let’s talk it out. You and me. No need to bring my kids into this.” Tony’s voice was calm and he didn’t make any sudden movements. 

“I used to have two kids, too.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed ever so slightly. “I was with them in the park during the battle of New York. They were scared and they ran...I heard them both screaming for help. I went to my daughter, thinking I could save her, and then find my son. But when I went to find him...it was too late.” 

“Okay, first of all, that was like-- a dozen years ago. I’ve honestly lost track between all of the time traveling I’ve done. And second of all, how the hell is that my fault?”

“You’re the only one left. Thor is gone, Hawkeye went crazy, Hulk is some hybrid, Captain America is gone, and Black Widow is dead.” 

Peter could see the pain in Tony’s eyes. At a time, all of them had been Tony’s family, and they were gone. “Gee, thanks for reminding me.” 

“You’re the only one left to pay. So I’ll give you a choice. Which kid are you saving?’

Tony frowned with a blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You get to bring one home with one you. The other stays here with me and dies.” The man started to rub Peter’s hair softly. 

“O-one of them?”

“I went home that day with one. So will you.” 

Peter’s heart started to beat wildly. He could tell by the look on Tony’s face that he wasn’t expecting this. He had no plans to get out of this. He couldn’t let Tony make this choice...or maybe...maybe Peter didn’t want to hear Tony’s answer. “Tony, take her home.” 

Tony was still reeling from the choice given. He furrowed his brow and turned to Peter. “W-What? Peter, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You need to bring Morgan home. She’s terrified. She’s a child-- leave me here. I’ll handle this.” 

“Yeah, Daddy,” the man cooed. “Bring little sissy home.” 

“I’m not leaving you here, Pete. You’re ridiculous.” Tony fidgeted on the spot, and it was so unlike Tony that it scared Peter. 

“Please. Take her and go.” 

“You’re running out of time.” The man moved his hand from Peter’s hair and pulled out a gun, pressing it against Morgan’s head. Now, she started to cry, speaking for the first time since they were taken. 

“Daddy! Please!” 

Tony took a step forward, his voice sounding choked up. “Okay! I’ll take her-- just get the fucking gun off her head!” 

“Is that your final answer? Are you choosing her?”

Tony glanced over to Peter only for a second, but it was long enough for Peter to see the anguish in them. “Y-Yes.” 

He pulled the gun away from Morgan’s head and moved it to Peter’s. “Come on then. Untie her.” 

Tony hesitated. 

“Do you want me to shoot her too?”

“No!” Then he hurried forward and fell to his knees in front of Morgan. His right hand was shaking as he tried untying the knots from her wrists. He fumbled, unable to get them undone. He cursed under his breath as Morgan continued to cry. 

“Hurry up,” he sang, digging the gun deeper into Peter’s head. 

Peter tried not to make a sound because he knew Tony was having enough trouble with Morgan. He stared ahead, focusing on the thump thump of his heart as his spidey senses screamed at him. 

Eventually, his right hand cooperated enough to untie all four knots and Morgan jumped into his arms. Tony put a hand on her back to hold her in close. “Please. Let me take him too. Please.” 

“You get one.” 

“Peter, don’t worry-- I won’t let him. Okay? Just-- just hold on.” Tony stood up with Morgan in his arms and took a step toward Peter. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Stark. Don’t worry about me. She’s your daughter...and I’m well, me. You made the right choice.” He gave him a small smile, just in case this was the last time he’d be seeing him. 

“You have five seconds to get out of here or I shoot her while she’s still in your arms.” 

“Don’t! He’s leaving!” 

“Peter,” Tony said, sounding incredibly reluctant. 

“Go, Mr. Stark!” Peter squeezed his shut so he didn’t have to look at Tony anymore. He kept them shut until he heard Tony’s feet running out of the room, and the man started laughing. 

“How does it feel knowing that you’re not Daddy’s favorite?” 

Peter tried not to believe his words. Even though Morgan was Tony’s biological child, and Peter was really just an intern that stayed around a little too often. Even though she was his baby girl. Even though he replaced Peter with Morgan and Tony loved her every moment of her life from before her first breath. Peter knew him for less years than Morgan was old-- not including those 5 years of time, at least. 

Peter felt his eyes burn at the thoughts. “He was in an impossible spot. You know more than anyone else. He made the right choice.” 

The gun clicked and Peter tensed. He could fight now. He could rip out of these shitty knots and knock the man unconscious within a minute. But why didn’t he? Why did he just sit there, thinking about how he was left, even though he told Tony to pick Morgan? He was right. She should have been saved. He could save himself if he just pulled it together and stopped feeling sorry for himself. 

Before he could let his thoughts go any more wild, there was a gunshot. 

Peter thought he pissed away his chance at escaping, but if he did, then why was he still alive? And why didn’t he feel the bullet’s entry? 

“Take that, prick.” 

That wasn’t Tony, but that was someone just as familiar. Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw Happy standing behind him with his gun still raised. Then he looked down at the ground where the man was lying unconscious. 

“Did you…?”

“Kill him?” Happy asked, walking closer. “No. It’s nonlethal. Kinda like a tranq, but it’s more of a pellet than a dart. Hurts like a bitch. Wanted to kill him but something tells me you’d have a problem with that.” 

“I thought…” 

Happy walked around the chair, kneeled down, and started to untie the ropes. “You thought he came in alone? No backup? I know Rhodey is usually his Starsky, but I called shotgun.” 

Peter was speechless, trying to calm his heart down enough to realize he was alive. Tony may have chosen Morgan, but he was alive. 

Happy lifted his chin up gently so he could get a good look at the side of his face. “They got you pretty good, huh?”

“You would have laughed at his form,” Peter said in a small voice. 

That startled a laugh from Happy. “Oh, yeah, kid?” Peter nodded his head as he stood up and Happy immediately helped him up. “Easy, kiddo.”

“Where’s Morgan? Is she okay?’

“She’s fine.” Happy shook his head. “You know, sometimes, you should worry about yourself too.” 

Peter could walk on his own, but he liked the comfort of Happy supporting him too much to let him go. So he leaned against him as they walked out of the warehouse and was met with blinding lights from the police and ambulance all waiting nearby. He didn’t even get a second to let his senses adjust to his surroundings before he was being engulfed in a hug. 

Happy laughed and took a step back, “Hey, Tony.” 

Tony didn’t pay attention to Happy, he was too focused on Peter. He cupped Peter’s cheeks, and Peter could feel his right hand shaking. “Peter.” 

“Mr. Stark, where’s Morgan?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Pepper.” His eyes scanned over Peter’s body. “Are you okay? That gunshot-- were you hit?”

“No. It was Happy. I’m fine.” Peter held onto Tony’s wrists. He never thought he’d get a chance to see him again. 

“I was so scared. I thought I lost you again. Don’t ever pull that shit. Never again.” Tony moved his hands to pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Peter immediately shook his head. He didn’t want to hear this apology. “You don’t need to.” 

“I do. I need you to understand that I would never choose one over the other if I didn’t know Happy was in the other room waiting.” 

Peter swallowed around the lump in his throat. “She’s your daughter. It’s okay.” 

Tony pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “And you’re my son. DNA be damned. Morgan is my baby, but you’re my baby too. So don’t make me ever live a nightmare like that again.” 

Peter couldn’t help his small smile. “Really?” Tony huffed, and gave him a small smile of his own. “Don’t make me repeat it. I may have some experience with being a dad, but I still get hives.” 

Peter hugged him tightly, hiding his face in Tony’s neck. “I love you too, Mr. Stark.” 

“Yeah, yeah...just keep hugging me, squirt.”

#iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #morgan stark #whumptober2020 #no.2 #kidnapping #pick who dies #marvel #fic #guns #cursing

[blackenedwhite97]

Pregnant Panic- Poly! Erasermic x Reader

Hello! this was a requested fic from quite some time ago. I'll be catching up at some point, i'm in my final year of university so update will be more spaced out for the next few months.

Content Warning: Discussions of paternity, some medically accurate potentially a little gross conversations and mentions and depictions of anxiety and panic.

This story includes and Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

It was killing them. You’d think with how tired and unwell Shouta looked and how uncomfortable Hizashi seemed that they were the pregnant ones. Shouta was the most stressed you’d ever seen him, not because he didn’t want a child but because he was scared he’d be a bad father. You’d stayed up many late nights with him, looking out at the dark city skyline through the living room window, him drumming up ways he’d fail as a father and you countering them with rationale and reassurance. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be present. You all knew he was around the least; he was a teacher during the day and a full-time hero at night. Hizashi was usually home at night, at least.

Hizashi wanted two things. The first, to be as good of a dad as he knew Shouta was going to be. The second, to know which one of them had knocked you up. Hizashi, unlike Shouta had full confidence in Shouta’s ability as a father. Hizashi also had confidence in his own ability to be a father. Yet, and you assumed it was natural, the two of them compared themselves to each other constantly. They both felt like they had to fill a role that was usually filled by only one parent, a father. In regard to his second wish: It was driving him insane. Hizashi didn’t want to know for the reason of ascertaining who the “real” dad was, it was more of a who’s quirk we might have to deal with.

While it’s not a given that a child’s quirk is going to be the same as your parents, it’s still a possibility. A possibility some families count on so greatly that they arrange marriages based on quirk compatibility to keep their bloodline strong and on the top tiers of society. Your little mismatched family never worried about that sort of thing, whether this child was a telekinetic like you, made your ears bleed when they threw a tantrum like Hizashi or could shut his dad up like Shouta, or even if they were quirkless you’d all love them with every fiber of your beings.

This was going to be one lucky kid.

Hizashi was squirming around in his chair, his legs going from being slung over the arm rest to being tucked underneath him. Shouta was as still as a statue save the tip of his boot where his toes were wiggling with nervous energy. Hizashi shifted his position for the umpteenth time, his legs swinging around towards Shouta, their knees bumping. Shouta shot out his hand and gripped Hizashi’s knee, holding him in place.

“Stop squirming.” He grumbled.

Hizashi stilled and slumped back, splaying his limbs out dramatically. “Babe, come here.”

Hizashi looked slide long at you through his lashes and a grinned, waving you over.

“Sure, yeah. Hold on, lemme just-” you placed a hand under your swollen stomach as if that would help carry any of the weight and hopped off the examination table. You landed in a wide stance, almost losing your balance from the nearly one-foot drop. It was pitiful, since you’d started to really show it was almost like all of your hero training went straight out the door. Mind you, your hips were wider than they’d ever been, and you were twenty-seven pounds heavier than you’d ever been. You also constantly had a little critter kicking you in your bladder, which was very new.

You waddled towards Hizashi, the smallest of grins pulling at Shouta’s mouth as he watched you. He found your knew range of mobility highly entertaining. You stopped just short of Hizashi’s wildly splayed out feet, nudging one with the toe of your shoe.

“Can you stand behind me for a sec?’ Hizashi sat up straight. “I wanna try something.”

“Okay?” you raised an eyebrow but waddled around him anyways.

As soon as you were behind him he leaned back in his chair and propped his head back on your belly. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. “Now, I’m comfy.”

You stared down at him as he fought a stupid grin, trying to keep his face serene. Goof. “I’m glad our kid is already good for something.” You sighed, stroking the top if Hizashi’s head and smoothing his hair back.

Shouta blinked, his brows knitting together. “You are such a dad already.”

“Been practicing!” Hizashi quipped, shooting up and snapping one of his fingers into a gun.

Shouta rolled his eyes but couldn’t help himself and chuckled.

The door to the examination room opened and in walked a kind looking older woman with deep smile lines and dark shining eyes. She looked like she worked with babies for a living, there was a pure unadulterated kindness about her. “Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Hi, yeah that’s me.” You turned towards her and stretched out a hand.

She took it with a smile and eyed the two men in the chairs. “Which one of you is the father?”

The three of you had agreed when this all started happening for the sake of appointments that weren’t with doctors you’d be seeing regularly Shouta was going to be the father. It was hard enough explaining that the three of you were together romantically anyways, add a baby in and the fact that you don’t know which one of them was the biological father and you have a proper scandal. Out of the three of you Hizashi was the most recognizable and had the closest thing you could equivalate to a fan base so Shouta felt that in order to keep a sense of privacy around all of this he’d be the place holder father. You’re doctor and OB GYN both understood the whole situation, of course they needed to. Both had been in favor of a paternity during the pregnancy, which you had wanted to fore go until after the birth. At this point in the pregnancy it would have to be an invasive test and with this being your first child the three of you were so nervous you didn’t want to even consider taking that chance.

Shouta cleared his throat and stood up, reaching out for a hand shake as well. “That would be me.”

Hizashi shrunk down in his chair, he had agreed to this prearrangement, but it still stung a bit. You placed a brief set of comforting pats on his shoulder and he straightened up a bit.

“Right,” the kind eyed woman took his hand. “everything seems to be going well and on track. If you wanted to go over specific we could step into another room?”

She eyed Hizashi, and curious look about her. It was probably rare to see a friend sitting in on any sort of appointment. You shook your head and spoke up.

“Oh, he’s here to help us keep track of everything. I have total baby brain and Sho gets… overwhelmed.” You smiled at her reassuringly, trying to normalize the situation.

“O-okay.” She looked down at the clip board in her hand and skimmed the page. “The only thing I would say is out of the ordinary is that all signs are pointing to a later birth than expected. This is completely normal, of course. There are a few options if we feel as though the little one if take their sweet time a little too seriously such as inducing birth.”

You looked down at your swollen belly, your little one didn’t even stir. Why would they want to leave anyways, the little shit was swaddled in warmth and had a direct line to all the caving food you were constantly supplied with. Aside from the waddling, miniscule range of motion, tiny bladder and hip and back pain you didn’t mind being pregnant too much. The boys were totally whipped, which you tried not to take too much advantage of. But you were human and Hizashi was getting really good at baking.

“Inducing how?” Hizashi questioned from his seat.

“W-well,” she looked at you and Shouta for approval before speaking, Shouta nodded. “there are ways to induce labour through hormonal injection as well as more slightingly invasive physical ways, however it all depends on the circumstances. We prefer the less invasive ways for new parents generally speaking.”

Hizashi nodded and there was an awkward silence for a few seconds. The woman looked between the three of you then looked back down at the sheet and began tearing slips off along the perforated lines. “Here are your prescription cards, signed off by Dr. Onishi.”

“Thanks.” You took the slips from her outstretched hands and she slipped out of the room, you could have sworn her polite smile slipped from her face as she closed the door behind her. She sniffed you three out.

“Invasive?” Shouta mumbled. “How invasive?”

Hizashi shrugged as he stood up, grabbing your jacket off the end of the exam table to help you into it. You turned around and let him help you into it, even putting on a jacket was harder when you were this pregnant.

“They’ll stick a plastic hook up my vagina a pop the amniotic sack thing.” You explained, expecting full well the boy’s reactions.

Hizashi shivered violently and let go your jacket, shaking himself out like a dog trying to rid itself of water after a swim. Shouta’s nose flared and his eyes rolled to the side as he frowned.

“Is that painful?” Hizashi asked, his voice still shaky.

“No one on google really said anything about that but it’s safe to assume is they won’t talk about it, it’s not good.” You shrugged.

“Ew.” Hizashi stuck out his tongue like a kid tasting adult food for the first time.

“Yeah, can we uh, stop talking about this?” Shouta, if it had been possible, had paled out. Throughout the pregnancy Shouta had gone from the toughest out of the three of you to the one that was the most squeamish about everything. Sure, Hizashi was over dramatic and very vocal about his thoughts and feelings but he always had been. For Shouta, the idea of your body literally contorting to stabilize itself only for it all the end in hours of screaming, crying and otherworldly pain was too much. Normal injuries? Doable. Anyone could get hurt. Giving birth? That was something only you could do out of the three of you and he didn’t like that.

“Sure.” You smiled at him and he hooked his arm under yours as you all made your way out of the building to the busy street outside.

“What’s up for dinner?” Hizashi asked, pulling up his collar against the wind. The winter was blowing in and Japan was in the early stages of grey skies windows and cool winds, not yet covering in heavy snow and frozen streets.

“Um, I kinda forgot it was my night.” You muttered. If you hadn’t been the pregnant you’d have been subject to a somewhat sarcastic lecture at the hands of Hizashi, but you were practically untouchable now-a-days.

“Let’s just pick up something on the way home.” Shouta grumbled.

“I gotta fill my prescriptions, though. We can just go to the grocery store, there’s a pharmacy in the back.” You said.

“I don’t want to make you cook.” Shouta sniffed, the cold air making his nose run. “Plus, it’s cold as hell and the grocery store is refrigerated, I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Sho I can-” you started to protest.

“Dad has spoken.” Hizashi chimed in, wrapping and arm around your shoulder. “We can split, Y/n and I can head home a grab food on the way, and you can go fill her prescriptions?”

“Nice try, Mr. “I-wear- a jacket- all- the-time-for-fashion”. You go get the pills; we’ll get the food. I’m fucking freezing.” Shouta poked Hizashi in the forehead.

“I can’t help that I like the layered look, Sho.” Hizashi huffed. You turned to his and gave him a peck on the tip of his nose, a dopey grin spreading across his lips. God he was easy to butter up, he was such a glutton for physical affection.

You took off you scarf and wrapped it around his neck and handed him your prescription slips. “Your assignment Present Mic.”

“Aye-Aye, Ma’am.” He saluted dramatically.

“You own me a warm drink when I get home!” he added over his shoulder at Shouta who was already wrapping his arms around you as you waited for the walk signal.

Shouta was a furnace as the best of time and a miniature sum at the worst of times. You’d taken his temperature before, worried that he had fevers or worked himself sick in the early days of your relationship. He was always around the normal base line, he just radiated heat like crazy. You sank back into him and let his thick wavy hair curtain around your face. You looked up and make eye contact with his smoldering dark eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hey.” You said.

“Hey.” He hummed into your hair.

“What do you want to eat?” you asked.

“Hmm,” she closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “something warm.”

The cars came to a halt and the walk chime sounded as the pedestrian light lit up. “Ramen it is.” you chirped and skipped awkwardly froward, your splayed hips not exactly made for such enthusiastic movement. He trailed behind you; your hand clasped in his.

The Ramen shop on the way was the kind of shop you couldn’t eat in; it was a thin rectangular shop with just enough room for a line and the counter. You had never minded before but lately the lack of seating options as you waited was less than ideal. You and Shouta had to make do with leaning into each other, him trying to support you but making a makeshift seat with his thighs while she leaned against the wall. The cashier rang a small bell and called your order number with a polite thank-you. You scuttled to the counter and retrieved the expertly packed bags of lidded ramen bowls.

When you made it back to Shouta he was staring down at his phone, his normal peaceful tiredness replaced by an annoyed alertness. He was frowning and pulling away from the wall.

“What’s wrong?” you asked just in time for him to look up at you.

“Uh, there’s an emergency call for heroes. Like, three blocks from here.” He looked as though if he hadn’t been waiting for you to return he’d have already dashed out of the door. It was in his blood, Shouta was a hero and until one the assholes had knocked you up so were you. The splayed hips somewhat dulled that itch to jump into action, but you could remember how it drove you crazy.

“Go.” You nodded. “I can get home.”

“Y-you’re- really?” he turned towards the door and you could see him winding up like a spring action toy.

“Yes, go!” you waved him off. Without another work he was off, the door swinging in the wake of his exit. Although you hated to admit it, this kid had changed more than just your body. You never worried like you did now. You were never so afraid od the average mission or call turning into something catastrophic, you were paranoid about patrols in good neighborhood and rescuing cats from trees. Shouta literally rescued a cat the other night and when he was telling you about it all you could see was him toppling out of the tree and getting hurt. Whenever one of them left for work they would be setting up times to check in, and Hizashi being the chronically late guy that he is had to suddenly start keeping track of time. You didn’t want to raise this kid without either of them and while you all knew full well that it was a possibility with the life you all lived, it still terrified you to no end.

You tried to calm yourself as you stepped out onto the street, people were still milling about, and there was no thirty-foot inferno to speak of so things couldn’t have been that bad. You waddled the rest of the way home, bags of soup sloshing around in your hands, trying to stay calm. You weren’t doing very well. Usually you had at least one of the boys with you or they were together but no doubt Hizashi also had gotten the message. You groaned to yourself, knowing full well he’d also responded.

Your hands were shaking, hoping it was just the cold you rooted around in your pockets for your keys. Getting them in the door was an experience, both frustrating and upsetting in the only the way a pregnant person can attest to. Were the tears running down your face because you couldn’t get the key in the door or because you were a walking rage pile or hormones and anxiety? You whipped angrily at your tears and shoved open the building door, warm air washing over you. At least it was warm.

The building got more and more blurry as you made your way to your apartment, tears fulling your eyes until the lights were just wavering streaks. You were huffing breaths into what felt like air starved lungs, sobs pounding against your cheat trying to break free. You choked them down and rushed through our door, leaving the ramen in the hallway as you slammed the door shut behind you.

You really didn’t feel like being very very pregnant and having a panic attack. You started to pace around, running your hand through the soft blanket across the back of the couch and pressing your palms to the cool counter top as you went back and forth between eh kitchen and living room. Some tears fell but your eyes dried and soon enough your lungs stopped convulsing for air. You were still shaking and a knot was still tight in your gut but you had for the time being subdued the panic. With this new clarity you went you your room and pulled out you professional phone, the battery low having not been used in weeks.

You had also received the distress signal:

10 Ave and 4 St. Grand villain activity: League of Villain members sited at scene of disturbance. Requesting all back up in immediate area. Priority: Containment.

League of Villains. You’re stomach dropped, almost painfully. You gripped onto the sheets of the bed as you slid to your knees, panic rising in your chest again. You knew they were among other heroes, that Hizashi wasn’t a frontline fighter and Shouta would have a horde of heroes trying the keep him in play. You knew this. You also knew them, and that they could be stupid. Shouta had climbed a Goddamned tree the other night FOR A CAT. He could have fallen and died for a CAT. You choked down another sob. Hizashi was always the centre of attention and he did it on purpose. What if he tried to distract the villains and got hurt doing it? He’d done that once before on a mission and came home with a nasty concussion.

What if it was worse this time? What if the League was more organized?

You choked on another sob.

Warm arms wrapped around you and you jumped, trying to pull away.

“Hey, whoa, babe it’s me.” Hizashi hummed calmly. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s Zashi.”

He brought a hand to your head and held you against his chest, scooting closer to you in his crouching position. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed circles into your hair with his thumb and held you like that until you were able to calm yourself. “What happened?”

“I got scared.” You sniffed. “And I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” Hizashi chuckled, pulling back to look at you. His nose was still rosy from the cold and his hair was swept back in messy waves. “Sorry.”

“You should be.” You punched him the shoulder, once for every word.

“Ow!” he whined, holding his arms up in defense.

“You did this to me!” you wailed. Irrational, yes. Cathartic? Also, yes.

“I refuse to take ownership until we get that paternity test!” he laughed somersaulting away from you.

You were just about to give him a piece of your pregnant mind when you heard Sho enter the apartment and trip over a set of paper bags.

“Y/N?” he called. “Hun? Are you, okay?’

Hizashi jumped to his feet and darted out of the room, shouting wildly. “She’s angry!”

You tried to push yourself up to your feel but couldn’t, slumping back down onto the carpeted floor next to the bed. The threw your hands up in the air frustrated, all that panic from earlier having left your body. Being pregnant was a wild ride, whatever you felt was so strong and so consuming at the time, but it could fade just a quickly as it came.

“I’m stuck!” you pouted.

Shouta crept into the door frame, Hizashi hiding behind him. The two of them melting at the sight of you slumped, cross legged on the floor, belly swollen, unable to move. Shouta grinned, that same entertained grin from earlier. He made his way to you and grabbed your hands hauling you to your feet. You slumped into him, reaching out a hand to motion for Hizashi to join in. Not one to pass up a good group hug Hizashi happily wrapped his long gangling arms around you and Shout, ignoring your grunts and he squeezed.

“That didn’t take long.” You mumbled into Shouta’s chest.

“Illusion base quirk, I erased it and it turned out to be a bunch of low levels trying to make a scene to get away with some cash.” Shouta explained. “You okay?”

You nodded and hummed into his chest.

“You sure? There’s soup in the hallway.” His whiskers rubbed against your forehead.

“The baby got scared.” You muttered.

“Oh?” he hummed, as if in thought. He pulled away from you and knelt down, so he was level with you belly. “Listen up little one, there’s nothing in this world that your parents can’t handle so don’t so around worrying us like that okay?”

Hizashi stooped down and eyed your belly very seriously. “Especially, your mom. She’s already doing all the heavy lifting, dude!”

You dropped your face into your hands a laughed. Yeah, this was one lucky kid.

#mha #bnha #myhero #myheroacademia #myheroacademiaxreader #aizawa #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #aizawaxreaderxhizashi #readerinsert #readerxmha #readerxbnha #polyerasermic #erasermic #erasermicxreader #pregnant #pregnantreader