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coco-loco-nut · 1 day

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Book Club - Part 7

Pairing: The Grid x Reader, Lance x Reader

Summary: reader in a crash, book club dads worried af abt her

requests open masterlist

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You felt nervous going into Spa, a feeling that you just couldn’t shake. You had talked to Kimi about it and even crashed the Haas garage to talk to your best friends, but nothing could shake the pit as you climbed into the pit as the light rain started. Max looked at you and gave you a thumbs up before getting into his car.

You’ve never done great at Spa, the only reason you are P4 is because of the rocket ship that is you car. That was one lap, this is 44 laps. You release a shaky breath and focus on the lights above you. Not even 10 laps later the pit in your stomach increases due to the increased rainfall. You can’t get rid of the feeling despite your intense concentration on driving.

My tires aren’t going to last much longer, I’m losing grip.

Copy, Y/n, push one more lap then we will bring you in.

By the time you reported the tire conditions you were already mostly through sector three. You resteel yourself and push the car as hard as you could while managing the tires.

It’s when you enter sector two that you panic a little. You are losing grip faster than you thought and have begun fighting the steering.

GUYS SOMETHING IS HAPPENING

Y/n?

Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n!

Your wheels lose grip to the track and send you into the wall. It’s a nasty crash that immediately red flags, the debris across the track plus the rain increasing was enough for the FIA to red flag it. Your head is pounding and your vision a little blurry. Only when your ears stop ringing do you hear the radio.

Fuck, yeah I’m okay

You slur the words and pull yourself out of the car, immediately collapsing when you stand up as everything fades to black.

Lance, slow down, red flag, red flag.

Andrew? Who was that, don’t tell me it was Y/n. Fuck, is my wife ok?

It was her, no word back yet. Nothing over her radio from what we can tell.

Andrew, I need to know. Is. She. Ok.

She just said she was ok over the radio. There is debris across the track, stop the car and a marshall will get you back to the garage.

Shit, that’s bad. Andrew, what are you hiding from me?

Lance stops the car and gets out when it is safe to do so, as indicated by the marshal, but his heart drops when he sees you being put into ambulance.

“Mr Stroll, please let me at least let me get you back to the garage,” the marshal senses that he wants to fun over to the scene. Lance reluctantly goes back to the garage where he immediately pulls out of the race and goes to the hospital where they are taking his wife.

Max, Y/n crashed behind you, red flag.

Shit, is she okay?

No confirmation yet, make your way back to the pit lane.

Max feels his heart drop. He knew how uncomfortable you were going into the race and he would do anything to go back and time and tell her not to race. The red flag ended the race, and every driver had a similar reaction to Max and Lance. Max felt sick that that’s how he won, and he said as much in the post-race interviews. It was visible how much he and the paddock cared about you. Every one of your grid dads, as you affectionately called them when talking to Max, came over to him asking for updates, hoping Max would know more since he was your teammate.

“Lance, take a seat, pacing won’t help,” Kimi tells Lance, equally worried and frustrated at the lack of information as they wait in the hospital. Kimi was already on his way after the phone call this morning, this wasn’t what he expected when he touched down. Half the grid is sitting in the room, their legs bouncing or anxiously conversing.

“Mr. Stroll,” a nurse says, causing the both of them to hop up and walk to the desk.

“Who is Mr. Stroll?” she asks and Lance slightly raises his hand.

“I am, this is her father,” Lance says, the nurse motions for the two of them to follow.

“The doctor is in the private room waiting for you,” she closes the door behind Lance and Kimi.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Janssens. I have a bit of good and bad news. Good news is that Y/n only has a mild concussion, some whiplash, sprained wrist, and a small hairline fracture of the wrist. Bad news is that she’ll be out of racing for at least a month,” both Kimi and Lance cringe at the news.

“That’s all? It was a nasty crash,” Lance asks a bit skeptically, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Based on tests and scans, we have ruled out any head, neck, and back breaks. We have her pain meds, which is why she’s sleeping. She will likely be under observation for another day or two,” the doctor says, trying to relay the information in a delicate manor.

“Thank you,” Kimi dismisses the doctor, a hand resting on your shoulder. He and Lance sit in silence for a minute, gathering feelings and thoughts.

“She looks so peaceful,” Lance says softly, holding his sleeping wife’s hand.

“I’ll give you a moment while I talk to Christian and the drivers. Think about when you want to make a statement. I may hate the media, but you don’t want them to be hounding the hospital,” Kimi says before stepping out. Kimi and Christian quickly come to an agreement about the seat, the later not wanting to lose out on his second driver. The grid takes the news relatively well, but they all know how lucky they were, especially you. Pierre and Charles may have been handling it the worst.

“Kimi, will you look over this statement?” Lance asks, knowing the older man is an expert in saying things vaguely.

All-

We want to thank you for your support following Y/n’s crash. She is currently in the hospital under the care of great doctors. We are thankful that she is okay and look forward to a smooth recovery.

- The Räikkönens and Strolls

“Looks fine to me, I will take care of the outside stuff. You focus on our girl,” Kimi goes into Dad mode, sending the message to Red Bull and Lawrence. He posts the statement first on his account, Red Bull and Lawrence following shortly afterwards. Red Bull edited it slightly to reassure fans that you still had your seat waiting for you.

“Lance? You ask as you wake up, wincing from the pain. The room is dimmer, as to not strain you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he says softly, brushing hair from your eyes.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Going into the wall will do that to you, you got lucky,” Kimi says from beside Lance.

“Dad? What did the doctor say, when can I get back into the car?” your vision slightly blurry as your eyes adjust to being awake.

“You have a concussion, whiplash, wrist sprain, and a hairline fracture. You’ll be out for about a month,” Kimi says, heart aching.

“Some of the guys are here? Want me to bring them in?” Lance asks, doing his best to distract you from the amount of time you will be out.

“Yeah,” you verbally confirm, not able to nod your head due to the neck pain. Lance leaves the room to grab the grid.

“I’m sorry, crashes like this are the worst,” Kimi tells you, clearly still affected by your crash.

“Thanks for being here, you didn’t have to leave everyone for me,” you says softly, thinking about your family back in Finland.

“They want to know that you are ok, and you are still my daughter, of course I will be here,” he replies, his softer side showing.

“I didn’t mean to scare everyone. Robin, Rianna, and Grace weren’t watching, right?” you panic a little, scared for their young minds.

“No, they know you are hurt, but they think it’s just a boo boo,” Kimi reassures you. The grid comes in and sufficiently distracts you, happy to know you’re okay.

You spend the next month in Finland with Kimi and your family, working back to 100%. Kimi takes you karting when you are almost fully recovered, getting you back to normal. Lance visits when he isn’t racing.

“Sissy, why do you have to go?” Robin asks, you tested in F1 cars again and got the green light to race again.

“I have to go drive in circles really really fast, just like Papa used to,” you crouch down to his level. Your sisters equally sad at your departure.

“What if you get a boo boo again?” Rianna asks, and you pause, thinking about how to explain it well.

“Do you stop going to the park even after your fall and get a boo boo there? Sometimes we get hurt, but that’s ok,” you don’t promise that you won’t get hurt, that’s not a promise you can keep. Rianna nods, understanding but sad you aren’t staying.

“Will Lancie come back next time?” Robin asks, not wanting to let you go.

“He will, I’ll be back in a couple weeks, it’ll fly by,” you give you siblings one last hug. Kimi hugs you goodbye as well, he spent the past week going over the track with you and talking about strategies.

When you get to the track, you are stopped by every driver, asking how you are and saying how much they missed you.

“Welcome back,” Fernando greets you when you walk into the club meeting.

“I listened to the audiobook, let’s get this party started,” you smile, happily listening to Lewis and Daniel fight about some symbolism. Your boys pampered you for your return. George brought you coffee from Mercedes, Logan brought you a pastry that he picked up from a bakery. Valtteri gave you some home remedies for your sore muscles that he swore works wonders. Kevin and Nico just hugged you but that was enough for you.

“Max was freaking out, he chewed out the Red Bull team for not pitting you earlier,” Daniel tells you, having filled in for you while you were hurt.

“That’s nice of him,” you smile to yourself. Lewis had also been vocal in interviews about how your crash could’ve been prevented if the race had ended sooner due to the rain.

“Y/n! Have a second?” a reporter asks and you nod.

“See you later, Danny,” you wave goodbye to him and approach the mic.

“Thanks for joining me, I just have a couple quick questions. First off, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, a little sore, but itching to get into the car again,” you reply, not giving away more than that regarding your injuries.

“You certainly seemed to scare the grid when you weren’t responding after the crash. How has your welcome back been?” the reporter pushes for more information.

“They’ve been great, they all came to the hospital to visit and have taken great care of me today. I obviously feel bad for scaring them, but they are the best competitors I could ask for,” you smile, before leaving the interview.

“Welcome back, kid,” Max hugs you when you walk into the Red Bull motorhome. You sing Super Max when you see him, having spent the last month listening to the silly songs that have been written for the drivers

“Thanks Maxie. Who is the better teammate, me or Daniel?” you grin, putting the dutchman in a tough spot.

“Daniel, for sure,” Max jokes. Your jaw drops and you turn around, leaving to go to another motorhome. You find yourself in McLaren, singing Let’s Go, Lando, with Lando himself who was happy to join in with your under-the-breath singing. Oscar wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or murder the two of you.

“What brings you to our home?” Oscar asks once you both stop singing.

“Max said he liked Daniel more than me as a teammate,” you pout, not revealing that you knew he was joking.

“Right, I’m texting Lance,” Oscar shakes his head with a laugh, leaving you and Lando to chat.

“Y/n, love, you just healed, let’s not get hurt by forcing McLaren security to kick you out,” Lance laughs when he sees you and Lando bonding.

“Noooo, we were just becoming friends, she never hands out with drivers that are her age,” Lando whines. You give him an ick face.

“For good reason, you are all icky,” you quickly turn to Lance, “not you, baby,” you smile and turn back to Lando, “why would I hang out with you all and party after races when I can spend time with the older drivers whose company I prefer,” your eyebrow quirks.

“Say what you want, I’ve seen you at our parties. You have more fun than Lance,” Lando grins.

“Alright Lance, let’s go,” you get up, Lance assisting you since you are still a little slow due to the aches still in your muscles. He walks with you hand in hand back to Red Bull where your trainer helps work out your neck muscles and tape your neck and wrist.

“Let us know if you are feeling pain, if you have to pull out of free practice early, pull out. There is no shame if you are hurting,” Christian tells you, before you get to your car.

“I know, I’ll let you know,” you smile, feeling good in the car. After FP1, all of your grid dads found you after weigh ins, checking you over.

“Mi hija, are you okay? Does anything hurt? How is your hand,” Fernando asks, filling his usual position as the overprotective grid dad.

“A little sore, yeah,” you groan as you roll your shoulders.

“Don’t do that, let’s get you to an ice bath, then some heat,” Kevin says. Lance and your trainer don’t bother checking in on you.

“Let’s have a, well what your would call, a girls night. Help you recover,” Lewis suggests. And that’s how you spend the next few nights, in pajamas, with fluffy blankets, alternating cold and heat on your neck, watching movies of books you had read with the club.

“Petition to make this an occurrence each race?” Valtteri proposes at one point, getting eight voices in agreement back. They did a wonderful job of helping you recover, and the encouraging phone calls to Kimi helped you feel more than ready to race when race day approaches.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! GREAT START FROM RÄIKKÖNEN!” The announcer yells into the mic as you gain a few places, toe to toe with Max.

Can I race?

Permission to Race, give em hell, Y/n

You end up winning the race with a 1-2 finish, pulling a Carlos Sainz and Ferrari after his appendix removal. Your first F1 win.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid #george russell #logan sargeant #max verstappen #valtteri bottas #kimi raikkonen #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen

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jm-2406 · 2 days

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Just a ring.

Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”

Pairing - Theodore Nott x reader; Male OC x reader.

Word count - 2150.

Warnings - infidelity, flashbacks in italics, grown up theo & reader.

Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business wizard like Theodore Nott who hailed from a high class pure blood family, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.

He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.

“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I'm sorry Mr. Nott, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”

Theodore eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Theodore kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay Riya. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.

Theodore turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy to hear your rambling right now.”

[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Theodore.”

“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.

“He knows…”

“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”

“Alex… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”

Theodore kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He has asked me to marry him.”

Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.

“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.

He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.

After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.

It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Alex had been having a lot of arguments around that time.

“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.

“I know babe but this is urgent.” Alex said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.

“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”

“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”

“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Alex took his briefcase and apparated.

There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherin guys from a year above her. She had never interacted with him outside of the classes. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.

Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Alex thus she became addicted.

Over time, their pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Alex maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Theodore.

After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Theodore had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Alex, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.

They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I love you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders, apparating away.

She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.

Truth to be told, when Alex had found Theodore's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Alex opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.

“I… I need time, Alex.”

Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.

A week later -

[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.

“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.

She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Theodore was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Theodore…”

He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the plain gold band that sat there.

“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.

“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.

The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.

“Where is your engagement ring?”

“I… I must have forgotten it.”

“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Alex questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.

“How are you doing, Codnor?” Another voice interrupted the couple. Alex cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.

“How did you even enter, Nott? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave before I kick you out.”

Theodore smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Alex had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.

“I know I wasn't invited, Codnor, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”

Before she could think, Alex punched Theodore, hard… and a fight started between the two. Alex's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Theodore back that he stopped. Even though Alex was almost as tall as Theodore, he was no match for his muscles and strength.

“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Alex pleaded.

“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Theodore was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Alex. I don't deserve you.”

Alex scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and disgust he was feeling at her.

[Y/N] turned to Theodore. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Theodore pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.

“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.

THE END.

Note - i have written a Tommy Shelby version of this one, you can find it here if you are interested. I thought this one screams “Theo” so why not make a Theo version too.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #slytherin boys #one shot #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott one shot #𝐣 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

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khuzena · 2 days

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This bitter life.

pairing: Blade x g/n!reader

Part 1, Part 2.

Summary: Life is not fair, that is the truth every being must accept. Yet, there’s a part in Blade’s mara-struck mind, that he cannot accept this type of ending, he will not allow it, but he has no right to deny fate itself.

In other words, you die and he’s miserable.

Cw. It’s very fluffy trust me, Reader is absolutely fucked, you die, unrequited requited love, not proofread, very slowburn, character development, terminally ill, ansgt only bcoz fluff is for the weak, life is unfair.

A/n: You already know what it means when I upload a fanfic. If you don’t, my only warning is, shit’s going down.

(wrote this bc bladie won the poll for my other fic of which character u guys want a fic for next 🥳)

Days pass by, Blade didn’t come back to the Stellaron Hunters HQ to watch over you. Silverwolf keeps messaging him, telling him he needs to come back for another mission but he’s stubborn.

Silverwolf: Come back here, we’re having a meeting

Silverwolf: oh come on I know you’re seeing this

Silverwolf: Istfg

[seen by Bladie]

His phone shuts off and he just stares outside your window, he knows you’re not getting better anytime soon. He sometimes feels a twisted, aching feeling in his chest when you give him that feeble smile to pretend you're okay, when you both know no amount of medicine will save you, you could no longer hold a glass for more than a minute because your muscles fail you.

He feels sick.

This misery of his never going away.

“I have to go.”

He expected that you’d call out for him, “Okay, take care.”

So he leaves, he wishes he never looked back.

He was gone for 3 weeks, on another mission to exterminate more and more foes of the Stellaron hunters and gather more Stellaron with Kafka.

“Something on your mind?” The blood on his hands could never be washed away, he wants to go back to that stupid Clove-V planet and talk to you.

“None of your business.” Kafka is surprised, it's the first time he sees Blade so irritated (he mostly is but not to this extent)

Kafka doesn’t ask again and they finish their mission.

In 4 days, he rushed to see you. You stopped replying to his messages, only a tiny ‘seen’ message pops up every now and then and he hates to admit it, he’s dying to see you again.

“Doctor.” Your door creaks open, another visitor it seems.

”Is it you Blade?”

He nods, but with a tightness to it, he sits beside you again, mold was already building up on your sink, your lack of mobility making you lose the ability to do normal tasks.

”Are you okay?”

”I wish.” How could someone act so carefree on the brink of death? He doesn’t understand you, no, not at all.

He wants to reach out for you, to comfort you but he doesn’t know how to comfort you. He doesn’t understand why he wants to comfort you, he understands why he cares so much, he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this way, he doesn’t even understand himself.

But when you smile at his hesitance, he realises, maybe you do.

He doesn’t reach out for you, he’s always an arm's length away from you, never close yet never too far. “You haven’t eaten, you’re going to die.”

Even if you eat, you will never get better; but he wants you to.

“Maybe, but I’m fine with that.”

”With dying? You’re a fool.” He doesn’t want to accept that you’re going to die, that you’re okay with dying because he’s not.

You’re a fool, a bastard, for trying to understand him but he can never understand himself nor can he ever truly understand you.

“You better not die,” his eyes desperately tried to never meet with yours.

He doesn’t want to look into your eyes, he doesn't want to accept the truth. That your eyes no longer beam with excitement at his words, that the sparkle in your eyes had dimmed.

“I know I will,” he no longer hides his worry, his fear, his desperation to keep you alive.

So he asks again, “What do I do?”

Like every other time he asks what ‘can’ he do for you, you repeat your words, “Just keep me company.”

He nods, sitting beside you. The tension in the air is obvious, neither utter a single word in this deafening (yet comforting) silence.

Blade cannot accept that you’re giving up, you’re not allowed to give up, he won’t accept it.

He drapes a blanket over you, “Feeling better?”

“A little.” Your throat burns, but you want to talk to him, even when you’re dying, you want to understand him.

”It hurts.” He doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to understand your pain, he wonders, if your pain is as worse as his, that it hurts so much you’d rather pass. That maybe, you’re the same and you wish to die too.

Neither of you will truly understand the other, but you try.

“I got sick when I was a child, 7– no, 8… I don’t remember,” he pretends he doesn't hear the rasp in your voice, “Just… Medicine made the progression slower.”

You could almost cry, “I wanted to study medicine, I wanted to heal others of their pain.”

”I don’t want to die.”

He doesn’t want to hear your desperate cry, he doesn’t hear it.

“Blade, it hurts,” he’s never wanted to shut off his ears when you spoke what he never wanted to hear, “Can I give up?”

He doesn’t want you to, but has no right to deny you peace.

”Is it okay if I give up?”

No, he won’t let you give up. You were there when he was sick, you did not look at him with hatred in your eyes, you treated him like any other person, something that has never happened in years. In your eyes, Blade was just a man.

So he doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t want you to give up, of course; but what can he do?

“It’s okay, right?”

”If that’s what you need.” He holds your hand out of instinct, “Then give up.”

He wants to yell at you that you’re an idiot, that giving up is for the weak but it’d be hypocritical of him to do so, I mean, he’s given up on life a long time ago, what’s he going to do? Tell you inspirational shit to keep your will to live alive?

“Thank you.”

No tears escape him, not a single choked sob leaves his throat but when your eyes lock for one last time, you understood him and he understood you too.

You two were just the same.

He squeezes your hand and rests his head on your stomach, when you don’t flinch, he realises you’re gone now too.

He can no longer understand you by your words, you can no longer speak to him, he can’t understand your past or who you truly are.

But how could you, how did you do it?

A single medical book rests on his hand, he may not understand what you truly are, but he’ll read countless books for you. He’ll play your favourite stupid games for you.

Maybe then, he’ll understand the only person that truly knew him, who gave him company in this miserable life of his.

What a pathetic, miserable, bitter life.

Note: DEF OOC BUT WHO TF CARES (I DO AND IM EMBARRASSED) but its okay right?? Like i wrote this in just 2 days (5 hours everyday) Whatever whatever i think its okay i feel sick I haven't ate lunch yet bye wuahhshdsj

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#what have i done #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail angst #blade x reader #blade smut #blade angst #blade fluff #i wont take that back #suffer with me #hsr angst #yingxing #blade hsr #hsr x you #honkai star rail fluff

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its-dark-its-une · 2 days

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My (very unpolished) take on Radiorose + small headcanons

(Edit: its Queerplatonic guys)

So. In my last Radiorose fanart I kinda just made up Alastor's and Rosie's designs as I went and, since I plan to draw my comfort ship again, I figured I needed a proper thought out redesign. This ended up taking much longer than I expected and I just wanted it to end but they're finally here! Hope you enjoy them!

For Rosie, I wanted a 1910's figure with a twist from other eras. I also tried to bring out the morbid side of Rosie with patterns that resemble veins, teeth and bones, but was struggling a little with making it also look elegant. Might need to revisit this design later, but for now I'm happy with how it turned out!

Rosie loves the whole "being dead" aesthetic. She might just have a deer skull on her wall to remind of Al. But if she's away from home, and from Alastor, the stylish cravat she stole from him will do the trick. He immediately noticed her wearing it, but never said a thing about it.

Okay, okay, who am I kidding. Alastor was my favorite to design. My main goal with him was to make the deer elements less vague, but also give him a dangerous vibe. I loosely based his suit in 1930's menswear, but honestly I was just having fun with his outfit. Also, he would 100% have a tail if that makes you happy.

Alastor dress specially fancy when he goes out with Rosie. The first time he got her flowers, it was a bouquet of beautiful, healthy red roses. He also kept one, so he knew exactly when it was time to gift new ones. Turns out Rosie liked them better after they died and refused to take new ones.

Oh well. Despite everything, I really had a lot of fun with these! Don't know if I intend on doing more redesigns in the future but the next would surely be Angel. Anyways, I hope you liked them as much as I did, thank you for your attention!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin fanart #hazbin art #hazbin redesign #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #platonic radiorose #radiorose #rosie redesign #alastor redesign #alastor x rosie #aroace alastor

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 3 days

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Could you do one where the whole band is in the studio and reader is so desperate that she rides axl in front of everyone. Preferably the original line up in the current era please I love you❤🌷

A/n: I may have gone a little crazy with this but that's ok because who doesn't love the whole pretty boy band <3

Warnings: Smut, gang bang, riding, fingering(f receiving), hand jobs, breeding kink, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Guns N’ Roses was finally back from tour and you couldn’t have been happier to get to be with Axl again. You called everyday while he was away, with the calls often ending in phone sex, but it wasn’t enough.

You knew from the get go with him that you wouldn’t be able to be with him as much as you might have liked to be, it was just part of being with someone in a band. Didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, in more ways than one.

You’d spent the first few days together, as per usual, but one morning you woke up to find him getting ready to leave.

“Hey, babe, where’re you going?” You asked as you walked into the bathroom where he was.

“Going to the studio today.” He answered through a mouthful of toothpaste. You glanced at his reflection in the mirror then back to him.

“Why? You guys just got back from tour.” He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth.

“Yeah, where I had a lot of time to think of new songs.” He explained. He planted a kiss on your forehead before heading out of the bathroom and to the walk-in closet. “We’re going to a studio to work on the instrumentals of some of them for our next album.” You watched as he sorted through clothes.

“What about me?” You asked, looking up at him with a small pout.

“What about you?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You expect me to just sit here all day?”

“Don’t you do that a lot anyway?” You glared at him, arms crossed over your chest and he gave you a kiss instead of apologising. “It’s only a few hours and then I’ll be home again.” You scoffed. He started changing in front of you, you watched him shamelessly.

“I’m coming with you.” You stated and started picking out your own outfit.

“No you’re not.” He looked at you with a confused expression. “What would you even do?” You shrugged.

“Nothing.” You said as you found an outfit for yourself. “But I want to be with you, so I’m coming.” He stared at you for a moment before deciding that he’s not going to be able to change your mind.

“Fine, be ready in ten minutes or I’m leaving without you.

You finished getting ready, it took longer than ten minutes but you knew he wouldn’t leave without you, and of course he didn’t. He was still waiting in the kitchen on his phone, completely having lost sense of time.

Upon entering the studio you were met with familiar faces all around. Slash was looking down at his Les Paul, Izzy was watching him and strumming along a rhythm to it. Steven and Duff were talking about dogs. At least you assumed so since they were showing each other pictures of dogs.

They all greeted you and Axl when you came in. Axl guided you to the couch and sat next to you, throwing an arm around you and holding you close to his side.

They were all talking about one thing or another, the tour, home life, stuff like that before actually diving into what they came there for which was the next album.

You were bored out of your mind. No one cared when you went on your phone, you didn’t really have much reason to be there anyway other than them asking your opinion on some things, which lyric fit better, whether or not they should add more solos. You enjoyed helping when you could but you were so fucking bored you were losing your mind.

You started reading about Axl, finding smutty fics about him to pass the time. It did help, to a point. After a few minutes of reading all you wanted was to act it out.

You knew he had his phone in his pocket so you texted him, saying how needy you were. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and looked at it, glancing back at you before responding. He told you to go deal with it in the bathroom. You huffed and stayed seated on the couch.

As they kept talking you decided ‘fuck it’ and started pushing the joint in your thumb against your clit through your thin, summer shorts. It wasn’t much but it was some form of friction, friction you were craving.

You kept your eyes on your phone for the most part but when you heard Slash’s low chuckle you had to look up. His glasses covered his eyes so you couldn’t see exactly where he was looking but you could tell he was looking at you, watching you touch yourself. His hand covered his mouth but he was smiling, you could see it in his cheeks. That much was a motivator to keep going.

You spread your legs and reached your hand into your shorts, continuing to touch yourself but this time with a viewer. Slash kept watching, smiling, chuckling to himself.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Slash?” Axl finally asked. His tone wasn’t angry, even though you couldn’t see his face you could hear the way the corners of his mouth were pulled into a smile.

The guitarist shook his head and gestured to you. You quickly closed your legs and hid what you had been doing so when Axl turned to look at you there was nothing to see. Sure enough he asked Slash what you’d been doing.

“Go deal with your girlfriend.” He mumbled, aiming his gaze to the ground. Axl turned around again and took a closer look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, sweat was starting to collect at your hairline and your breathing was heavy.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He came over to you, getting your pants and panties off. You started squirming and reaching for your clothes, not expecting him to undress you in front of his band. “I told you to stay home but no you just had come along, now look at you.” He gestured to your now half-naked body. You still tried to cover yourself but he wouldn’t let you, holding your legs apart as his bandmates gathered around behind him to gawk at your glistening folds.

Axl slapped your thigh. “Get up.” You did as he asked, though still wanting to cover yourself. Axl got his half-hard dick out of his pants and sat down behind you before pulling you down on him, slipping into you with ease given how hot you made yourself prior.

He got your legs onto the couch so you were straddling him, backwards cowgirl style. He wanted you to do all the work, since this was what you wanted in the first place. He also wanted this position so that his friends could see everything, from your pretty little cunt to the faces you made when you came.

“Go on, give us a show.” Duff said, already palming himself through his jeans. Axl patted the space beside him for Duff to come sit. He did and pulled out his hard member for you to jerk. You let out a soft whine and reached for him, starting to bounce yourself on Axl’s cock while stroking Duff’s.

Steven came over as well, standing to the side of you so as to not abstract Slash and Izzy’s view of you. He dropped his own pants and waited expectantly for you to let him in on the fun. You glanced back to Axl. “Can’t keep him waiting.” He said with a grin. You looked back to Steven and started pumping his shaft as well.

You thought this was a lot but you knew it wasn’t the end of it either. Izzy and Slash were both standing farther back working themselves. It seemed that you watching them acted as confirmation and they came over.

They didn’t make you take them into your mouth like you thought they would, much to your delight. Instead, they started jerking themselves off in your face and all you could do was wait for them to cum on you.

Your body was getting tired, arms wanted to fall to your sides and your legs began to shake under you as you kept bouncing on Axl. Seeing this the ginger started fucking up into you, making it a little easier.

Of course he knew your body better than anyone and knew exactly which spots to hit to make your eyes roll back. You had five men around you, all with their dicks out for you. It made everything feel better, especially when Duff reached over to rub your clit.

He has long, talented fingers that quickened everything you were feeling. “Fuck! ‘M-’m gonna cum, gonna cum!” You whined, hands clenching and unclenching around Duff and Steven’s cocks which seemed to get Steven over the edge, white liquid spurting onto your lap.

You looked down at it with stars in your eyes. It was then that you realised how badly you wanted all of them to cum on you. You kept jerking Steven off, his voice getting higher now. You could feel Axl twitching inside of you so you looked back at him.

“Please cum inside, want it so bad, please.” You whined. Axl had always wanted kids so you learned early on in your relationship that he had a breeding kink and asking him to cum inside your tight cunt was a sure fire way to make him cum.

Sure enough he grabbed your hips and held you down on him while his cum filled you up. That feeling alone almost made you cum but what really did it was Slash toying with your nipple.

You hadn’t been looking at him so his warm hand was already a surprise but the way he fondled you made your eyes roll back into your head. Your body shook and the couch under you, along with Axl’s lap, was now drenched.

You heard Duff groaning beside you and looked over just in time to catch his dick leaking, thick liquid coating your hand. His hand didn’t stop working on your clit, rubbing it, pinching and flicking. Seeing what made you moan the loudest and sweetest.

Izzy turned your head and thick ropes spurted onto your face. You stared up at him, lips parted as his seed slipped into your mouth. You were in such a trance for a moment you almost missed the feeling of Slash cumming on your chest.

More than once you’d caught him staring at your chest, really anyone’s chest. You smiled up at him and moved up and down Axl a few more times so he could watch your tits bounce while he came.

You were all breathing heavy, panting on one another as you came down from your highs.

“Get up.” Axl said with a heavy breath, patting your thigh. You got up and then started questioning what he wanted, your mind still in a haze. Sweat and jizz mixed together on your body and dripped down.

“Why..?” You asked out of breath and legs shaking beneath you.

“You wanted to get fucked so bad,” the ginger started, “why not give everyone a turn?” You stared up at him with wide eyes as you felt Slash’s big, warm hands wrap around your waist.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #gnr fanfiction #gnr #izzy gnr #duff gnr #slash gnr #axl gnr #axl rose x reader #axl rose smut #axl rose fanfiction #axl rose #axl rose gnr #axl rose imagine

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zerobaselove · 1 day

Text

a perfect fit | zhang hao

pairing: campus crush! zhang hao x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3409

warnings: minor swearing probably? lowercase intended, not proofread

prompts: 4. "what do you want?" "you" 5. "i want to help you, so please, let me." 11. "is that my sweater?"

notes: combined a hao prompt request (i changed the phrasing of 4 a little bit IMSORRY) with a campus crush! hao request and came up with this,,, honestly longer than i was expecting and somehow shorter than i wanted it to be ?? idk.. anyways geology major! hao you are dear to me (i want him so bad i'm clawing at the walls of my enclosure) hope you all enjoy <3

college was stressful. you knew it would be, it had to be expected. but what you didn’t expect was that the hardest part wasn’t the coursework or the seemingly constant stack of homework sprawled across your desk; it was actually paying attention in your classes.

how were you supposed to focus on mantle convection when three rows down was arguably the prettiest boy you had ever seen in your whole life. zhang hao.

you only had a few classes together, but coincidentally, due to your wandering eyes those happened to be the classes you were falling behind in. and he was to blame.

truth be told, it seemed everyone had some sort of campus crush on the boy; between the way he dressed and carried himself and the way he always managed to be at the top of every class, just about everyone either wanted to be him or be with him. and you couldn’t blame them in the slightest.

zhang hao was someone to admire from afar; across the lecture hall or the path between buildings. so when he ended up in a study group you had joined in an attempt to graduate with a respectable grade, you were dumbfounded, what was someone like him doing in a study group for a class he was passing with flying colours? maybe it was charity work, you convinced yourself.

the study group was only so effective for you, with zhang hao in the group you couldn’t focus, yet again. it was too hard to not notice the way he fidgeted with the pen in his hand or the way he doodled small animals in the corners of the paper. or the way he leaned over a fellow classmate as he helped them with a particularly complicated question in the textbook.

you were doomed.

——

after a few weeks of no progress, you were just about to give up. maybe i’ll just drop out and work at a department store or something. you told yourself as you crouched down outside the library you all studied in.

sure, you were being a little dramatic. but you were one question away from bursting into tears as you walked out of the study group an hour early. the embarrassment of leaving paled in comparison to crying in front of the boy who had been your reason to showing up to class some days.

“are you okay?” the question pulled you out of your pity party, looking up to see the tall male in front of you. he gave you a worried look at your curled up frame leaned against the brick. “i’m just feeling a little stupid,” you tried to laugh, a dry husk of humour pushing past your lips.

the boy didn’t respond right away, opting to crouch beside you as he sat down on the concrete right next to you. if you weren’t so stressed about your academics right now, you probably would’ve been a stuttering mess at the close proximity. maybe you would’ve even noticed the scent of his cologne. but all you could do in that moment was frantically wipe your eyes and attempt to not look as pathetic as you felt.

his eyes softened as he watched your hands rest on top of your knees, “you’re not stupid,” he said, a sweet tone in his voice, comforting even, “it’s a difficult class, everyone has been struggling.” his kind words tugged at your heart more than you’d care to admit.

“but everyone else seems to be getting it eventually.” you sniffled, concentrated on the tears threatening to spill again, “and i just keep slipping further and further behind.” you let out a heavy sigh, “i’m never gonna catch up at this rate.”

you almost forgot the boy was even sitting there, silently listening to your troubles. “shit sorry,” you let out a pitiful laugh, “i didn’t mean to drag you into being my therapist.”

he shook his head, a smile spreading across his face, “it’s okay, i’m glad you told me.” he turned his head towards you, “how about we make a deal?”

you only tilted your head in curiosity, urging him to continue his train of thought.

“you let me tutor you from now until exams. if you pass, then we both win, and if you don’t, then at least you tried your best.”

the offer was sweet, but you couldn’t help but wonder why zhang hao of all people would take time out of his days to tutor you.

“what’s in it for you?” you let a small smile break out across your face, the first in what felt like weeks.

“well,” he pretended to ponder for a moment, “maybe i just want to pass my knowledge onto someone.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the reason as he continued.

“and maybe, this can double as a way to make a new friend, if you’d want.”

sure. “friend” had no real implications of anything beyond a good acquaintance. but you almost choked at the disbelief. the university’s sweetheart, zhang hao wanted to be your friend? the boy you had spent the better part of the last two months trying to tear your eyes off of while your professor droned on about chemical reactions and the composition of rocks.

“are you sure? i don’t wanna take up too much of your time and-“ he cut you off before you could finish. “i wouldn’t offer it if i wasn’t sure,” he smiled gently, “i want to help you, so please, let me.”

you pondered the offer for a moment again. maybe it was the prospect of spending more time with him, or maybe it was just the idea of finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel that was this class, but you had made up your mind.

“deal.” your smile widened as you stuck out a hand, his own coming out to shake yours as he mirrored your expression.

this was going to be interesting.

——

your one on one study sessions had only been going on for a few weeks but you were already starting to grasp the concepts more with zhang hao’s help. “just call me hao.” you recall him insisting on multiple occasions, unaware of the way your brain would try and twist the intimacy behind it. just friends, you had to remind yourself, that was all you two would ever be, and that was honestly more than you ever could have expected.

“hao,” the name rolling off your tongue, “it’s getting late, can’t we wrap this up?” you whined, pouting a little in hopes of getting sympathy from the boy. as smiley as he was, he was also quite the hard-ass when it came to studying.

“one more question and then we can be done for tonight, deal?” he smiled, gesturing to the last practice question from this page. you let out a huff as you mumbled an acceptance of the deal, grabbing your pencil once again as you wrote out the explanation, scouring your brain for the scientific phrases to communicate your thoughts.

zhang hao looked over your final answer with a content hum, his hand coming over to ruffle your hair, “good job, you’re getting the hang of this.”

you stiffened at the contact and praise, you had never really gotten validation like that, especially not from someone like him, and your brain was running with it.

when you originally agreed to this arrangement you hoped that maybe it would be your way to get over your little campus crush on the boy sitting next to you, but it had only gotten worse, and you were slowly losing it. taking a moment to shake the thoughts from your mind, you started gathering your stuff up to leave, as was zhang hao.

“don’t forget you’re stuck with me tomorrow too, y/n!” he chuckled lightly before saying his farewells and leaving first, rushing off to meet up with his friend; you were sure he mentioned his name once before, ricky maybe? something like that.

you only nodded as you waved, grabbing your jacket off the back of the chair and slinging your backpack over your shoulder, but then something caught your eye; a light blue hoodie draped across the back of the back of the chair next to you. zhang hao’s sweater. the boy was already long gone, and based on how often he was sporting the hoodie, you assumed it was one of this favourites, so you couldn’t just leave it here. “i’ll just give it back to him tomorrow.” you mumbled to yourself, picking up the sweater and resting it over your arm.

when you got back to your dorm you folded the sweater nicely on your desk, right in your view so you wouldn’t forget it tomorrow. as much as you tried to ignore it, that night you couldn’t help but notice the warm citrus scent of his cologne, and you swore you could smell it in your dreams that night.

——

the next day was a brisk spring day, the warm air having been replaced by a crisp, almost cold, breeze. to say you had not dressed properly was an understatement, you thought to yourself as you walked across the campus towards the library. in a moment of weakness as you called it, or rather a moment of strong winds, you took it upon yourself to throw the pale blue hoodie over your frame. he wouldn’t mind too much right?

sitting at your usual table in the library, you set up your many papers and textbooks, not paying attention as the boy you had grown close to approached the table, a little out of breath.

“sorry i’m late,” he breathed out, catching his breath after seemingly running here.

“it’s okay, i was early,” you laughed, finally looking up at the boy who’s cheeks were flushed light pink.

you watched as his gaze traced your figure, taking notice of the sweater you were wearing, “is that my sweater?”

now it was your turn to flush a shade of pink, trying to form a sentence as you stuttered through excuses, “oh, i’m sorry,” an awkward laugh escaped your lips, “it’s just you left it here yesterday and so i was bringing it to give back to you but it was colder outside than i thought it was and so i put it on on the way here without really thinking, i can give it back right now,” you barely stopped to take a breath, “or i can go wash it and then give it back if you’d prefer.” your train of thought was stopped by his hand on top of yours, your mind going from a million miles a minute to frozen solid in mere moments.

“it’s okay y/n,” he chuckled at your flushed expression as he sat down next to you, “it looks cute on you anyways.” he said simply, moving his gaze to the textbooks in front of you as he flipped to the pages you were on the day before.

this boy was going to be the death of you.

——

something in the air seemed to change after that day, and it wasn’t just the scent of the blooming cherry blossoms in the breeze. something had changed with you two, and perhaps that was how the two of you ended up in your dorm room rather than the library, and on a saturday of all days.

“what homework have you got for me today teacher zhang hao?” you joked, leaning back on the arms as you sat on the end of your bed, looking at the boy who sat comfortably in your desk chair.

“aren’t i allowed to just hang out with my friend without talking about plate tectonics?” he said, a joking sarcasm lacing his tone.

you only laughed in response as you tried to control your heart beating out of your chest at the simple, friendly, term.

before you knew it, the day had faded into night in a blur of laughter and conversation; real conversation. it was a nice change of pace, and as much as you hated to admit it, the more you got to know him, the more your campus crush had changed into just a genuine crush.

you tried to ignore it, but it was so hard to ignore the comfort you felt being around him, how easy it was to slip into conversations and how easy he made you laugh. how were you supposed to not think about that.

and much to the dismay of your heart, these weekend hangouts had become a sort of routine. on top of seeing him most weeknights at the library, your interactions had spilled into the weekends quite seamlessly. whether it was just having a movie night in your dorm room, wandering campus during sunset, or even just doing normal young adult things like going shopping. the two of you had even gotten into the habit of accompanying each other on errands just to keep the other company.

it was nice, you couldn’t lie, but the domestic activities made it that much harder to separate your romantic and platonic feelings for the boy.

and here you were, awaiting the arrival of the boy on a saturday night. every time your phone lit up you rushed to grab it, just in case it was from hao, the casual name becoming more natural over the weeks.

this time it actually was a message on your screen, you found yourself quickly unlocking your phone to see what it said. “i’m going to stop at the store on my way over,” the text read, “do you want anything?”

before the voice of reason in your head could object, you typed back a quick response, “you.” simple, straight forward, to the point. everything you weren’t. it was already too late to cover up your boldness as you watched the typing bubble appear, in sync with the wave of anxiety and near nausea that washed over you.

“you think you can afford me?” he joked back, rolling with the conversation more smoothly than you ever could have, evidently. you typed back a quick laugh, hoping he wouldn’t see the truth behind your original response, “probably not, maybe i’ll just take some gummy worms.” you replied before nearly throwing your phone across the cramped room.

and to think, you were stuck with him all night.

——

you tried to focus on the movie, you really did, but the all too familiar feeling of wandering eyes and a racing heart took over your senses, and who could blame you? it wasn’t every day you found yourself sharing a blanket with the prettiest and kindest boy you’d ever known. you almost wondered if he could feel the heat radiating from you, or if he would just blame it on the fuzzy blanket covering your legs. you hoped it would be the latter.

soon enough the credits were rolling and you finally pulled yourself from the thoughts spinning around your mind, just in time for hao to turn to you with a smug smile. “you didn’t pay attention to any of that movie, did you?” the question caught you so off guard you actually choked a little on the sharp intake of breath. was it that obvious? you wondered. you really had to work on your expressions it seems.

“what’s on your mind y/n?” the smooth, almost teasing tone in his voice would’ve probably made your knees give out had you not already been sat down in your bed.

you managed to stutter out a response, rather reminiscent of the first real conversation you two had months prior. “oh it’s, uhm,” you quickly tried to come up with a believable excuse, settling on possibly the worst one, “it’s nothing.” the stiff laughter did nothing to help your case as he grinned at you knowingly, hopefully not too knowingly.

“so i’m nothing now?” he feigned offense as his hand came up rather dramatically to his chest. “i thought i meant more to you than that, y/n.” he teased, obviously enjoying watching the gears turn in your brain as you attempted to process the conversation that was happening.

busted.

there was no coming back from it now and you knew it, and more importantly, he knew it. at some point he had picked up on your lingering gaze, your quick glances that you thought had gone unnoticed. all there was left for you to do was either admit your growing feelings, or play dumb about the whole thing. and somehow you decided the latter was the smartest option.

“i, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.” another forced laugh pushed past your lips, getting past your thumping heart on the way out.

it seemed that your reaction filled zhang hao with a new sense of confidence, because he did the last thing you expected him to do; lean in. not close enough for your lips to graze each other, but close enough to feel his breath on you, to feel the heat radiating off of your faces. close enough to feel the thick tension in the air, but you were sure anyone could feel that if they were here, you could even cut it with a knife.

“i think you know exactly what i’m talking about,” he smiled, your eyes darting down to his lips that were only a couple inches from your own before looking back to his eyes; warm and inviting.

you weren’t sure what to say anymore, and so you made the bold decision to close the gap; only briefly, but long enough to taste the cherry lip balm that coated his lips, to feel the way his lips fit against yours. like tectonic plates.

what started as one chaste kiss turned into 2, and then 3, and then a gentle kiss of yearning, of waiting, accompanied by his soft hands on your cheeks. you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, his soft hands feeling like silk against your burning skin. you could feel him smile into the kiss as your body eased, relaxing into a rhythm. time slowed and suddenly the two of you were the only people in the world, the boy in front of you filling all of your senses. zhang hao. zhang hao. zhang hao. your brain echoed as you pulled away, giddy smiles plastered across both of your faces.

“is that what you were on about?” you smiled, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes once again.

he let out a small laugh, “what do you think?” he sat back against the wall once again, admiring the way the glow from the tv illuminated your skin, and the way you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. “i thought you’d never do something about it.” he laughed again, this time grabbing your hand lazily.

“listen,” you started, “i didn’t think you noticed, and i was okay to keep it that way,” you looked down at your interlocked hands, your mind silently replaying the last 5 minutes on a loop, rendering yourself no better than a broken record. “you’re the zhang hao, everyone has at least a bit of a crush on you, so why would i assume i had any chance.”

he shook his head as a proud smile spread across his face, “everyone?” he asked, leaving you to lightly smack his arm, a small yelp coming from the boy. “okay okay, no need to smack me,” he laughed, “but really, you thought you didn’t have a chance? why would i have offered to tutor you if i didn’t have at least a bit of an interest in you?”

you let yourself ponder for a moment, looking back on the now distant memory. “i just thought you were being nice!” you stated matter-of-factly, earning another giggle from the boy, you could get used to that sound, or rather, being the reason behind it.

he merely smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, “well i’m not nice like this to anyone else, if that helps make it more clear.”

“good,” you mirrored his smile, taking in the beauty that was the boy in front of you, the boy who seemed to fit with you like the tectonic plates.

“because i don’t think i could handle the idea of you spending your wednesday nights talking about rocks with anyone else.”

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 drabbles #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone drabbles #zhang hao imagines #zhang hao x reader #zerobaselove

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cherry-bomb-00 · 2 days

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Hear me out, what if like one day dia decides to bring another human (who isn’t related to a angel) and like MC just some how knows them, and let’s say their like friends who only use nicknames for eachother, so when they spawn in they’re like ‘*charcter name*! I thought you were dead-!” I feel like Satan would get such a rush of pride if MC had chosen his name as their fake name. Or Barbatos would be internally giggling and kicking his feet if MC chose his name, I was thinking the other human could be like ‘Paimon or Buer?’

I love this idea, it is a very interesting, thank you for your requested and I hope I understood what you asked, so in order not to make it longer, enjoy.

How the demon brothers would react if you use their name as a nickname or fake name + Barbatos

"When Lord Diavolo mentioned that another human exchange student was coming, you were excited, and when the new student arrived, both of you got along very well, thus being very good friends and between the two of you they used nicknames or fake names and curiously you used the name your favorite demons."

Lucifer

-Lucy is happy that you get along well with the new student, at least there will be no problems with the new student, although he was aware that you use nicknames with the new student, he did not expect you to use his name.

-He may not admit it, but that give him a burst of pride, the fact that you chose it flatters him a little, but it may bother him sometimes, even so, he's not going to tell you to stop using it.

-As I said before, sometimes it can be annoying for him if it's to get into trouble or do stupid things, even so, he can't be totally mad at you, I mean, after all if you chose his name as a nickname, it's because you feel comfortable with him, so that makes him smile.

Mammon

-Our avatar of the greedy sometimes seems to be that of envy and jealousy, since he feels jealous that you become so close to the new student, that they even use nicknames, but all that jealousy goes away in a snap when he hears and sees that his human uses his name as a fake name or nickname.

-He can't help but feel flattered, maybe you find him with his face all red and hot, you make him feel nervous and he acts more tsundere than normal, although at the same time it also makes him proud, I mean, how can you not use his name? He is the great Mammon, obviously you would, at the end of the day he is your first man.

-He sometimes finds it funny although sometimes he thinks they're calling him when it's really you they're calling you, so that sometimes confuses him, he can't help but turn around and end up all embarrassed. This demon just loves you so much.

Leviathan

The truth is, he didn't realize until once he heard the new human call you by his name, that confused him and when he went to ask and you told him that he used his name as a fake name since it was a dynamic. that you and the new student have, Levi feels a mixture of jealousy, nerves, pride and flattery.

Our favorite otaku did not expect that, but above all he feels happy, since that means that you have a lot of trust in him, and if you chose him it was for a reason, right? Although he has low self-esteem, knowing that you use his name raises his spirits and his self-esteem.

Sometimes you find it strange and confusing if you and him are in the same room, and the other human says his name, but you were able to differentiate to know who is talking to whom. (He obviously tells his pet fish Henry all about how happy he is to be your favorite and use his name.)

Satan

-When Satan hears that you use and choose his name as a fake name when the new student talk to you, It similar to how Lucifer feels, he feels how pride inflates his chest slightly, he feels happy that you have chosen him.

-Obviously he would make fun of his older brother, because he was chosen and Lucifer wasn't, he likes to rub that fact in the face of his older brother, even if it's something minimal, he can't help it, he likes to get on Lucifer's nerves

-And after all, he also finds it cute that you use his name as a fake name, it's as if you were telling him that you are his favorite (another reason to bother Lucifer) and that you feel comfortable with him.

Asmodeus

As soon as he realized, he can't help but feel very loveed, he goes to you, saying that he feels very flattered and happy that you have chosen his name as a fake name, I mean, obviously you were going to do it, he is the most beautiful demon of Devildom, his name is just as beautiful, so obviously you are going to boost his ego.

He cannot deny that he loves hearing his name, and he finds it adorable that his little lamb loves him so much that among his brothes, you chose him, although sometimes he gets confused if they are talking to him or to you.

Although it may get a little annoying at one point, it won't be strange for him to pout since he would like to be referred to more about him than you, but even so, he can't feel that way for long, not after you tell him that the reason you chose his name is because he is your favorite and that you love him a lot, then he returns to his loving and flirtatious state.

Beelzebub

-At first he didn't notice it, until one time the new student called you by his name, obviously that left Beel confused, he didn't understand why the new student called you by his name, he found it curious.

-It was already when he asked you why you use his name, and you were touched by the big guy's confused expression, so when you tell him that it's like her fake name, since that's the dynamic that the new student and you have . After that explanation, he feels his heart pounding and his cheeks turn red, he smiles happily.

-Beel finds it funny, he doesn't really care much that you use his name as a fake name, he finds it adorable, he feels special that you chose him, he can only give you a big hug.

Belphegor

-At first he wouldn't realize it like Beel, but that's because he's always asleep, so it took him a while to find out that you use his name as a fake name, but at one point he realizes it when he hears the new student calling you by your name. , something that confused him

-As well as explaining everything to him, Belphegor acts as if he doesn't care, but it really affected him and makes him feel a warmth in his chest, he really didn't expect you to choose his name but he doesn't complain, it really makes his heart beat with joy.

-It doesn't bother him so much since he sees it as a way to show that he is your favorite, and that makes him feel happy. Obviously just as Satan is going to mock and scold Lucifer that you prefer him over his older brother, so you give him more reason to bother Lucy.

Barbatos

-He realizes it quickly and has a reaction that you did not expect, since on the outside he looks calm and serene as always but on the inside he giggles with excitement, he never believed that this would excite him but apparently it makes his stoic heart melt.

-He also finds it fun how you interact with the new exchange student, he finds the dynamics of fake names and nicknames interesting, and he can't help but feel flattered that you chose his name.

-Sometimes he also follows the game, but only if you are with him alone, there is no harm in relaxing a little, plus he was also a little surprised to know that he was your favorite and how much affection you have for him, don't worry Mc, That feeling is mutual.

See you next time

#obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me hcs #obey me barbatos #barbatos obey me #obeyme mc #obey me general #obey me headcanons

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climbthemountain2020 · 2 days

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Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

#feysand #feysand fic #actoar #solstice gifts #rhys x feyre archeron #fever-induced writing #tooth rottingly sweet fluff

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pennylanefics · 2 days

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Skate Day Gone Wrong - Matthew Tkachuk

a/n: this was a cute little idea i had a while ago when i first started getting hockey content on tiktok :) it took me longer than i expected with everything going on, but i think it turned out cute!

warnings: mentions of hospitals, beginning of a panic attack (briefly mentioned, not too descriptive)

summary: matt begs you to go skating with him but it takes a turn for the worst when you end up falling down on the ice

word count: ~4.6k

“Come on, it’ll be so much fun!” Matthew begs you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them gently. A sigh passes your lips and your eyes fall to your entwined hands, a small grin stretching on your face as you realize he’s been rubbing his thumb back and forth against the back of your hand.

“You know I’m not as graceful, baby. It’ll be a disaster.” He pulls the puppy-dog eyes as soon as you finish your sentence. But it wasn’t going to get by you this time.

Matt was trying to get you to go skating with him at the local ice rink. He wanted, and he deserved, a break from hockey, but he couldn’t stay away from the ice and exercise in some capacity. But since the start of your relationship, you were very clear with him that you were like a newborn deer in ice skates.

“It’ll be a nice little date! I’ll hold onto you the entire time, you never have to let go of my hand, I won’t let you fall, I promise. You have my word,” he holds out his pinky to seal his words. You sigh once more, finally looking up into bright blue eyes, filled with hope and excitement. That alone was enough for you to change your mind.

“Okay,” you finally agree, and within a second, Matt celebrates by tackling you in a hug, your laughter mixing together to fill the otherwise silent bedroom of his.

“Yay!! This is going to be so much fun, I have been wanting to get you on the ice with me for the longest time,” he admits, pressing kisses all over your face, eliciting more giggles from you.

“I know you have, but I went once when I was younger and couldn’t find my balance, I ended up falling pretty hard. My cousins made fun of me for it and everything, so it’s something I avoided.” Matt coos softly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear so tenderly.

“Well, I won’t do that, and like I said, I won’t even let you fall. Not gonna happen on my watch, darling.” He kisses you a couple times, his hand remaining on your cheek, sending warmth through your body.

“I fucking hope. Otherwise you’ll be taking care of me the entire time.” He chuckles quietly and crawls into bed with you, wraping his arms around you instantly, and you instinctively curl into his soft, warm chest.

“Not sure how I’ll be able to with the upcoming road trip we have,” he replies.

“Then you better keep that promise of yours, Chucky.”

The following day, Matthew was up bright and early, preparing breakfast for the both of you and getting everything he needed ready to head to the rink. He planned on just taking his skates and wearing a simple pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt, no gear or anything was needed, really; he wasn’t needing to do any drills or practice anything anyways.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets you with a kiss on your forehead and then your cheek. Groaning, you shield your eyes from the blinding sun slicing through the curtains. Matt always loved this time of day, being a morning person, he was able to admire your beauty as you slept, like an angel in his eyes, glowing in the golden, natural light.

“Too early,” you grumble, causing him to laugh softly. To add to the dramatics, you grab the comforter and pull it up over your head, not wanting to leave the comfort and warmth of his bed just yet. One of your favorite places was being in his bed, enveloped in the smell of him, from both his cologne and his body wash.

“Hey, you agreed to this, we go early and then grab some lunch at your favorite restaurant,” he reminds you, removing the cover from your head. You squint your eyes and stare up at him, finding a sly grin on his face. “Come on, I made your favorite.”

After five more minutes of Matthew playing with your hair and trying to coax you out of bed, you finally get up and head downstairs, where he had everything plated and prepared for you. He made chocolate chip pancakes with turkey bacon, fresh fruit, and scrambled eggs with cheese. You were so glad that Matt loved to cook, otherwise you’d just be having a simple granola bar instead of a nice, cooked meal.

“Alright, I have everything packed and ready to go, so if you want to go get dressed while I put everything away and wash the dishes,” Matt says, taking your empty plate and setting it in the sink with his.

Once you were dressed in a sweater and jeans, all your usual jewelry on, and perfume sprayed a few times, you join your boyfriend in the living room, where he sat scrolling through his phone. Hearing your footsteps, his head pops up and a huge smile spreads across his lips as he jumps to stand.

“Ready?” His hand reaches for yours and you follow him out to his car. While you were getting dressed, he took time to put his duffle bag in the backseat, so you could just get up and go when you were done.

The drive consisted of soft music from your shared playlist, and Matt’s hand in yours, gently stroking the back of it like he did this morning, and like he always does when you two hold hands. It was a rather gloomy February day in Florida, and despite others hating it, you loved it; cloudy weather was so comforting, when it didn’t mean tornadoes and severe weather.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded at the rink, considering it was a weekday at ten in the morning, it was the perfect slot to spend time with Matt and also not make a fool of yourself completely if you were to have an accident.

Once your skates were rented, Matt helped you lace them up, talking you through it all since he could tell your nerves were starting to kick in.

“They have to be laced pretty tight, and figure skating ones are different from mine, but they kinda work the same. So…” his voice tapers off as he finishes tying them, “that should be good. Do they feel alright? Not too tight to the point where you can’t feel your shin?”

His hands take ahold of yours as he helps you stand and walk along the padded area to get a feel for them. He already had such a wide smile on his face because he was so happy that you were finally going to share the space he loved being at the most, aside from being with you, of course.

“Yeah, I think they’re good,” you let him know, heading back over to the bench you were sat on. He finishes tying his own skates, something he has mastered to do quickly at this point in his life, and before you know it, he is walking you over to the entrance to the ice.

Immediately, you freeze, but Matt steps onto the ice like it’s no issue.

“Remember what I promised you, baby?” He raises his eyebrows in concern. Fear was very evident in your eyes, and as much as he wanted you to skate at least one time around with him, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or push you too far. “Hey…it’s gonna be okay. Why don’t you sit down for a little while more?”

He guides you to a nearby bench and stands behind you, giving your shoulders a small, comforting massage. Leaning down, he kisses your cheek swiftly and then comes around to sit beside you.

“We can sit here for as long as you want until you are ready, if you are,” he reassures you. “We don’t even have to do this today. You coming with me has been enough.”

His sweet sounding voice calms your anxiety almost instantly, something you noticed over the months as your relationship progressed. He always knew the right thing to say, as well as the tone to use in moments where you needed it most.

After a few more minutes of sitting there staring at the ice, you inhale and exhale deeply, turning your head to Matt, who raises his eyebrows in curiosity, his bright eyes filled with concern and worry.

“I’m ready,” you grin, trying to convince him that you’ll be okay. “I just have to do it scared.”

He sighs and shakes his head, reaching for your hands to squeeze them comfortingly.

“Honey, don’t say that. We really don’t have to do this, I can see how scared it’s making you.”

“No, let’s go. I really am ready.” He pauses for a moment just to make sure you are serious, and when you try to stand, he follows you and brings you back over to the entrance of the rink.

He steps onto the ice and holds his hands out for you, his own heart racing with anxiety. He was a pro, but he didn’t know if he’d be the best at assisting, even though he made numerous promises.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Just grab my hand and I’ll keep you balanced.”

With a small step onto the ledge, you step with your other foot onto the ice, your heart pounding in your chest and your body cold from fear.

“It’s alright, darling. That’s it. Now, you want to kick off with one foot and lead with the other. Can you try that?”

Taking his advice, you move as if you’re trying to walk like normal, but obviously that doesn’t work out too well. But he was calm and patient with you.

“No, not quite. Here, hold onto the wall for a moment and I’ll show you.”

Clutching onto the wall like your life depended on it, he takes a moment to skate in front of you very effortlessly, not at all surprising considering skating is like second nature to him.

He comes back around and smiles widely, stopping just a few feet in front of you. You stare at him blankly, as if to say “are you fucking serious?”

“Come on, try it,” he pushes, reaching back out for your hands to coax you from the wall. Bracing yourself, you gently nudge yourself from the wall and follow him, attempting to copy his movements.

“There you go! You so got this,” he beams with pride.

Still, you stumble here and there but his strong grip keeps you standing. Before you know it, you realize that you made an entire lap around the rink. Just to be safe, Matt steps off the ice and wrap you up in a celebratory hug

“You did it! I’m so proud of you, baby!” He plants soft kisses all over your face, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s because you were basically pulling me.”

“It was all you, believe me. I was there for guidance only. Wanna go around again?” This time, you nod eagerly and put one foot back on the ice, allowing him to get his footing first before you place your other down.

Just like before, although you were starting to get the hang of it, you stride along as gracefully as you can, following behind your lover, who easily skates backwards, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

“And you said you were like a newborn deer. You are far from it,” he jokes, speeding up just a little bit. Laughing, you squeeze his hands to silently let him know to slow down some, which he understands and pauses for a moment, slowing you to crash into his chest.

He wraps his arms tightly around you to keep you upright, pressing a single, sweet kiss to your lips, keeping his forehead on yours after.

“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “And I’m very glad you decided to do this today. I’ve had so much fun and it’s been so nice being able to do this together.”

“I’ve had a lot of fun as well. It’s not as bad as I remember it.”

“Because you’re here with me,” he winks slyly, giggling when you hit him in the shoulder playfully

“You might be right, baby.”

There’s a pause as you both just stand there, holding each other and enjoying the other’s presence. A few people populated the ice, but they stayed near the middle, chatting and taking their time practicing some figure skating tricks. You and Matt were pretty much alone, it felt like in this moment.

“Wanna try skating on your own, hm?” He asks in a hushed voice. “I’ll still be right there with you, just not holding you.”

Thinking over it for a moment, he waits for your answer, and is very surprised when you nod in agreement, his eyes widening in shock and curiosity.

“Wait really??” He had to double check to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Soon, you were standing in front of him, your legs even with your shoulders, hands still in Matt’s for now.

“Okay, remember, push off and keep your skates close to the ice. Let me know when to let go and I will.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at the ice beneath your feet and focus hard. He starts staking backwards, building up some speed and momentum for you, whenever you were ready.

“Okay, I think I’m good,” you tell him, slowly releasing the tight grip you have on his hands.

“Nice job, baby! Move that left foot a little smoother!” You try to do as he says, but the farther he gets from you, the more worried you grow. He was still within reach, but only if he happened to slow down.

Suddenly, you feel your balance start to wobble, and your knees shake ever so slightly. You could feel yourself losing your balance as your momentum eases.

“Matt,” you call out, your voice shaking just like your legs.

“You’re doing good, don’t think about it too hard.” He was no help, seeming so far away, too far for your comfort.

But it was too late.

Your foot catches beneath you and slips, and within seconds, you were falling to the ground. Matt’s voice filled your ringing ears, but you couldn’t make out a word he said. All you felt was pain.

“Hey, hey! Look at me,” he cradles your cheek, moving you as gently as ever to sit up from where you fell on your arm.

Wincing, you attempt to scoot a little, but with your right hand cradling your arm against your chest, that proved to be difficult.

“I can’t move my arm,” you tell him, tears beginning to spill over your eyes and down your cheeks. Matt grew more and more concerned as time went by, not knowing how serious of a situation this was just yet.

“Did you land on it? Where does it hurt the most?” Bringing your wrist in front of you, you show him and lightly touch the area, but even that’s too much of a sensation.

“No, no, it hurts so bad,” you cry into his chest. His eyes were wide with fear and pain of his own, knowing that the person he loves the most is hurt, and because of him? That makes it so much worse.

While you continue to cry into his shoulder, Matt waves over the person watching over the rink, making sure that if someone did get hurt they’d be assisted to as soon as possible. And not even a few seconds after Matt signals this, a medic is rushing over, ready to help in any way he can.

“Come on, we’re gonna stand up, alright?” Matt whispers in your ear, trying to remain as calm as he can. He holds your right arm tightly, the medic helping by holding your skates to secure your balance.

It took a bit, but they finally get you standing up, but Matt being Matt, decided to carry you off the ice, even though it was a short length; he wasn’t taking any more risks.

He sits you down on the closest bench and the medic comes over to assess your injury. Matt held your right hand the entire time as a way to comfort you, kissing the back of it every now and then.

“Take deep breaths, baby girl. That’s it,” he whispers, taking some of his own to help ground you and soothe your anxiety.

“You should head to the hospital. It appears to be broken, but I can’t confirm that without an x-ray. You can’t move it, it’s tender to the touch, something is definitely wrong.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach and your eyes drift to Matt. He nods in agreement, lips tightly pressed together, seemingly attempting to keep himself from crying. He thanks the medic, who gathers his things before heading off.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles, beginning to take your skates off for you, and then following with removing his own. He doesn’t say much the entire time, mainly because he doesn’t know what to say. This was his fault, you got hurt on his watch, and he was beating himself up over it silently, but you had an idea of what was going through his mind.

Matt helps you to the car but before he gets into the driver’s seat after shutting your door, he crouches down and takes a few deep breaths, feeling his anxiety rising and the start of an attack; thankfully, it goes away and a minute later, he hops in the driver’s seat and drives off in the direction of the nearest hospital.

A few hours spent there, in the very quiet emergency room that smelled so strongly of cleaning products, it was confirmed that you broke a bone on the outer part of your wrist, as well as a small bone in your thumb joint.

Four hours later, the two of you are walking into Matthew’s home, a light blue cast on your wrist, exhausted and desperately wanting pain medication. Matt drops his duffle bag with his skates on the ground, no intention of putting it away anytime soon.

Not many words are spoken between the two of you, and Matt heads to the bathroom to get you some ibuprofen and water. He returns and finds you curled up on the couch, scrolling through to try and find a movie or show to watch.

He kisses your forehead and also gets an ice pack for you from the freezer, and once he situates it on your cast, he heads upstairs to his bathroom, taking his time to shower and get dressed in comfy clothes. Realizing you had yet to eat anything but a small bag of chips, he quickly orders your favorite takeout from his phone to be delivered within the next twenty minutes.

Matt felt awful. He didn’t want to go downstairs and face you, this was his fault. He wasn’t able to keep you safe and unharmed, and he was terrified of what you were going to say to him now that you are in the comfort of his home.

But, he knew he had to face the issue and go down there to hold you in his arms, to care for you now that you’ve gotten hurt.

He takes a torn, old shirt of his and a pair of sweats before heading back downstairs. There, he finds you half asleep, watching an episode of Catfish, though he could tell you were barely paying attention.

“How are you feeling?” He finally speaks, coming to sit next to you. Your head lifts up and you smile at him.

“The medicine kicked in a little bit ago so it’s not terrible. I’m just tired.” A sigh passes his lips and he so desperately wants to reach for your hand, but he doesn’t.

“I know, baby. We’re gonna take the rest of the night slow. I ordered some food so you’ll be able to eat. I can help you shower if you want to, all we have to do is wrap a plastic bag around your hand. I’ll take care of everything.”

His voice held so much hurt and regret. Sighing yourself, you grab his hand with your right hand and squeeze it softly, letting him know you are fine.

“Matt, it’ll be okay. I know you’re beating yourself up over this, but I need you to understand that it’s not your fault.”

“It is. I forced you onto the ice when you didn’t want to go.”

“I distinctly remember agreeing to go because I wanted to do that with you, Matthew. I wanted to skate with you, I wanted to try it on my own, and it’s not like you shoved me to the ground or tripped me. I was my clumsy self and lost my footing.”

“But I should have listened to you when you told me you weren’t that good on the ice.”

“I was until I wasn’t. And that’s not your fault.” Matt’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but you brush it off. “Overall, I’m not upset with you, I don’t regret going, and I sure as hell won’t hold this against you. Accidents happen, baby, and that’s okay.”

Matt listens to your words and finally nods. He brings your entwined hands up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to your own.

“I love you,” he whispers, staring down into your eyes. “I love you so much, you have no idea.” Chuckling softly, you lean over and kiss him, finally feeling able to get up and move around a bit.

“I love you too, honey. Always will.”

After devouring the takeout food Matt ordered and icing your cast once more, Matt brings you upstairs, two plastic bags and a couple hair ties in his hands. With ease, he wraps your cast in the bags, securing it with the hair ties. He was tender and sweet as he helped you shower, planting kisses on your cheek or your bare shoulder every now and then, taking matters into his own hands and washing your hair and body for you.

Drying off and making sure you were comfortable in the clothes he picked out, you both head back to the couch and curl up, Matt getting another ice pack for you as the pain meds start to wear off a little. He kept them nearby on the coffee table just in case.

You had picked out a movie to watch just as rain had started falling on the house, a calming sound to ease your mind. Matt had you tucked into his left side, your cast-ridden hand laying on his stomach. The moment you took the ice pack off, Matt brings your hand up to his face and starts kissing your exposed fingers, one by one on the knuckle.

He then gently rubs his thumb over the cast, his eyes filled with a somber look as he assesses the damage he still feels like he caused. You could tell that’s where his mind was going, so you pull your hand away and reach up to turn his face towards you.

“Hey, stop that,” you whisper, kissing his jaw.

“I feel terrible,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he tries to keep the tears in. You move to sit up and fully cradle his face in your hands.

“Listen to me, baby. I will be okay. A broken wrist will heal, I don’t need surgery to reconstruct anything, just this for six weeks and then a brace. I don’t need physical therapy to learn how to use it again, it will be alright. Things happen. I really don’t want you taking all the blame and the guilt for this when it’s not your fault. Yeah, you got me out on the ice, but it was me who slipped and it was me who tried to catch myself.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t let you go,” he mutters, and you realize that there’s no way of getting through to him. So, you roll your eyes and lay back against his chest.

“Okay, Matthew,” you grumble, not really in the mood to fight or argue if he wasn’t going to listen. This seemed to strike Matt in a way that filled him with regret, because then he was sighing and shaking his head.

“You’re right,” he whispers. “I’m…I feel terrible about it, but you are right. It wasn’t all on me, I tried my best to help you, but accidents do happen, and I understand that. It was my idea and that’s why it’s affecting me so bad.”

A few stray tears fall down his cheeks but you are quick to wipe them away.

“I understand, honey. But you wanted to share something you love with me, and I wanted to share it with you as well. If it wasn’t you, and it was my friends trying to get me to go, I would have refused. But I know how important hockey is to you and being on the ice in general. I wanted to try this with you. Remember what I said earlier?”

He nods, recalling back to how you reassured him everything was okay between the two of you, and you had no hard feelings for him regarding this.

“I meant every word before, and I still do. I’ll survive, it’s just a little bump in the road.”

Your second talk of the day seemed to have calmed him down much more, and you were thankful for that. So, you settle back down in his arms, his left hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Can I be the first one to sign your cast?” He asks after a little while of comfortable silence, watching the movie. You giggle and look up at him, wondering if he was being serious or not.

“Go get a sharpie,” you move away from him. Within a minute, he returns from his office with a sharpie he uses to sign memorabilia that the team and other companies send him, plopping down beside you. He carefully holds your cast in his hand and searches around for the perfect spot. He ends up writing right below your knuckles, and horizontal on the section on your forearm.

The forearm spot read “i love you - matty” with a little heart beside it, and the spot underneath your knuckles read “i’m sorry :(”. You laugh at his enthusiastic mood before he hands you the sharpie. You draw some random shapes along it in random spots, just to fill it in a little.

“You know everyone on the team is gonna want to sign it,” Matt says, pulling you back into his chest.

“I’m not sure there’s enough room,” you say, examining the amount of space of the medium-sized cast; it covered your fingers all the way up to the second set of knuckles, and ended ¾ of the way to your elbow. Your thumb was separated to keep it structured as well, but it was quiet comfortable. And an easy way for Matt to hold your hand.

“You could always break another bone to give them more room,” he jokes. And this time, it wasn’t a self-deprecating joke about how he was responsible for the break, you could tell just by the tone of his voice, it was light and airy, hinting at the fact he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe I’ll break my leg skiing, then they’ll have a field day.” Matt can’t contain his laughter, his head thrown back and eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh, please don’t let that happen. One cast is enough for now, baby girl.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #hockey #hockey fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

27 notes · View notes

dedfly · 11 hours

Note

I just had a *delicious* Shadow Milk/Reader idea!

What if, after the events of the game, Reader finds Shadow Milk Cookie (whether Reader's inside or outside the Tree's barrier is up to you) sulking or generally being upset that he hadn't gotten his way after his defeat. Being a good friend/lover/etc., Reader then decides to (either right then or after a bit of time to prepare) play him a song like they were his personal court jester & he was their king?

I think he'd appreciate something like that (and probably find it endearing), although he might tease that they had better not try and steal the show/leave the jesting to him, y'know?

Like, reader is just really playing up the antics and making fun of those *terrible, no good cookies* that had slighted him in an attempt to cheer him back up some. I just think that would be really cute.

- =^ •ᆽ• ^=

I hope it's cute enough

† Shadow Milk cookie x reader †

† Oneshot †

Kinda angsty

Shadow Milk sat covering his head with his hands in defeated position, muttered something under his breath, cursed and spat. Anything to stop the approaching tears. But despite this, a telltale lump was already forming in his throat, and there was an familiar unpleasant feeling of aching pain in his heart. Thousands of years of waiting are down the drain, it’s not fair, it’s not right, and in general just awful.

He would have sat there even longer if he had not heard some fuss. He immediately perk up, quickly wiping his eyes with his puffy sleeve.

Shadow's slitted eyes flashed as soon as they recognized who had come to visit the jester. Despite this, Shadow was, to put it mildly, out of sorts, and maybe if it had been someone else, he would have put on his usual cheerful mask, but not this time. He was amused at the sight before him.

His eyes darted between you laying out your “props”. It was even comical to be on the other end of the stage and be an audience for once. Not that he could make anything out of his imprisonment besides watching and observing.

What’s even more comical is that all attempts to cheer him up only caused him to smile a little, and only because he still noticed how much of an amateur you were. It was warming his heart for sure, but he is too full of himself to admit that.

At that moment when you were telling him about how “mean” the Elder Fairy had done by transferring the powers to White Lily and oh God, they hid this fact from the poor unfortunate jester. Attacking from behind!and who does that anyway? Horrible evil cookies.

Rolling his eyes at another attempt to “suck up” to him, Shadow Milk extended his hand to flick your nose.

“Oh come on, you silly cookie, shoo shoo I've seen enough,” Milk purred before pressing himself against the tines of the fork that were holding him back. Despite the fact that he would never admit it, hearing something so far from the truth that showed him in the best light could not but please him. He reached out to ran his hand along your hair a bit patronisingly, yet not enough so you would notice.

The seeds of deception are sprouting faster than he expected. Even such little lie makes him feel more alive. How pleasant.

________

I feel a bit like in one webtoon where instead of a joke it said *funny joke* while writing it ಠ_ಠ

Ironically, it was also about the jester

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk x reader #crk x you #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x you

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7-wonders · 2 days

Text

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters.

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff.

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod.

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end.

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving. “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.”

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps.

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle.

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months.

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?”

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him.

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.”

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

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