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gingersnap-17 · 8 months

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Unexpected (Sukuna x Female Reader)

Hello everyone! Okay, I know that Sukuna literally reigned terror over practically everyone when he was a human in his human form. BUT, I feel like he is just a softie towards his lover and child. So that is pretty much what I wrote today! I also tried to find the artist to give them credit for the cover art, but I couldn't' find anything. Full credit goes to the artist of course! I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: After being Sukuna's preffered concubine for almost a year now, Y/N starts to notice some changes going on with her body. She knew what this meant, and knew she had to tell Sukuna about what is going on.

Word Count: 2052

In the dark and twisted world where sorcerers and curses roamed, Y/N found herself in a peculiar and perilous situation. She was a concubine, living a life of luxury within the grand, ominous palace of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses. Sukuna was feared and loathed by all who knew of him. With his two faces, four arms, and a mouth on his stomach, he was a symbol of terror on Earth, known for his merciless cruelty.

Yet, Y/N was different. She was his favorite, though no one could ever understand why. Sukuna would often call her to his chamber, spending hours in her company. It was as if a glimmer of humanity remained buried beneath the layers of his demonic exterior. Y/N knew better than to resist her role as his favored concubine, for disobedience often meant death. But as the weeks passed, Y/N felt a strange and sudden unease.

The first sign of change came when she realized her body was not quite as predictable as it had been. The morning sickness, the fatigue, and the subtle changes to her body all pointed to one conclusion – she was with child, and the father was none other than Sukuna himself.

As she ventured into his chambers one evening, her heart pounded with anxiety. He sat on a lavish throne, crowned in arrogance. His red eyes met hers, and he noticed the worry etched across her face.

"What troubles you, my dear?" Sukuna inquired, his voice as cool and dangerous as ever.

"I... I have news, Lord Sukuna," Y/N stuttered, attempting to maintain her composure. "I am with child." Sukuna's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his monstrous features. The room seemed to grow colder as an eerie silence settled over them. Y/N couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine.

For a moment, she feared the worst, that his anger would flare up like an inferno, that he would blame her for this unexpected turn of events. But then, something unexpected happened. His lips, both the one on his face and the other on his stomach, twisted into an unsettling smile.

"You're carrying my child?" Sukuna's voice held an inexplicable mix of amusement and curiosity.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, my Lord. It is your child, a gift from our time together."

Sukuna's laughter echoed through the chamber, a haunting sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, well," he mused, "this is most intriguing. It seems fate has woven a different path for us, my dear concubine."

She couldn't fathom his reaction. What did he mean by "a different path"? Did he intend to harm her or the child? The rumors about his cruelty raced through her mind, but his next words caught her off guard.

"From this day forward," Sukuna declared, "you shall no longer be just my favored concubine. You shall be the mother of my heir, and my wife. I will get rid of the other concubines as soon as I can."

Y/N was stunned, her mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Sukuna had just said. Becoming his wife and the mother of his heir was a fate she could never have imagined. She had heard of the power and ruthlessness of the Cursed King, but this turn of events was beyond her wildest dreams, or nightmares.

"Lord Sukuna, I... I am honored by your decree." Y/N managed to say, her voice quivering. Her thoughts raced, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this dramatic change in the notorious sorcerer.

Sukuna's demeanor shifted as he looked at her, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "You are different from the others, Y/N. You possess a unique strength that intrigues me. You've not only survived but managed to capture my heart in your own way. I am curious to see how this new chapter in our lives unfolds."

As Y/N tried to wrap her mind around the astonishing twist of fate, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Fear still lingered in her heart, for Sukuna's reputation was not one that could be easily forgotten. His sudden declaration to make her his wife and the mother of his heir was both a blessing and a curse. She knew she had gained a measure of protection, but she also recognized that her life had become infinitely more complicated.

Over the following months, as her pregnancy progressed, Y/N's relationship with Sukuna underwent a gradual transformation. He showed a surprising tenderness and protectiveness toward her, which left her both relieved and confused. The other concubines, who had once been her rivals, were swiftly removed from the palace, their fates unknown. Sukuna's sole focus was on Y/N and their unborn child.

Not only did she recognize his change, but she noticed a change in herself towards him. She had fallen for the strange man. Obviously before she became pregnant she had some sort of feelings for him, but this was different. She felt that this could have been love. Was it even possible to love the king of curses?

As the months passed and her belly grew round with the child of Sukuna, Y/N's feelings for the Cursed King deepened. She found herself captivated not only by his power and enigmatic nature but by the glimpses of vulnerability he occasionally revealed. Despite his terrifying reputation, she saw in him a complex soul, and she couldn't help but empathize with his struggle to balance his monstrous identity with the spark of humanity that still flickered within him.

Their relationship became more than a mere arrangement of convenience. They spent hours talking, sharing their hopes and fears, and gradually, the walls that had separated them began to crumble. Y/N saw moments of gentleness in Sukuna, moments when he would softly caress her growing belly, whispering endearing words to their unborn child. She realized that, like anyone else, he longed for connection and love, something that had been denied to him for so long due to his horrifying appearance and terrifying powers.

Y/N's once-terrifying life as a concubine had turned into something unexpected and complicated. She was no longer just a plaything of the Cursed King; she had become his confidant, his companion, and now, the mother of his child. As she considered the strange turn of events, she wondered if her love for him was mutual. Did Sukuna truly care for her beyond their unborn child, or was this newfound affection merely a consequence of her pregnancy?

One fateful night, as they sat together in his chamber, Y/N decided to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind. She watched him, her heart racing, as she gathered the courage to speak. "Sukuna, I can't help but wonder about your feelings for me. This change in our relationship, it's... unexpected. Do you love me, or is this solely because of our child?"

Sukuna, the Cursed King, regarded her with his distinctive dual gaze. His red eyes bore into hers as if searching for something deep within her soul. The room was bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant howling of the wind outside.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that she had never heard from him before. "Y/N, what we have is complicated. I am not like other men, and you know that. But since the moment you told me you were carrying my child, something has awakened within me. I can't deny that I feel a connection, a bond, that goes beyond mere duty or convenience."

Y/N's heart leaped at his words, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She had never expected to hear such vulnerability from the feared sorcerer.

Sukuna continued, his voice softening even further. "I may not fully understand what love means, for it is a concept foreign to my nature. But I do know that I care for you deeply, Y/N, and I want to protect both you and our child. That much, I am certain of."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she heard his heartfelt confession. In that moment, she realized that the man known as the Cursed King, feared by all, had a heart that could feel, even if he struggled to comprehend it fully. She leaned in, her hand gently reaching for his, and their fingers intertwined.

"Thank you, Sukuna." she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I care for you too, and I want to be with you, not just as the mother of your child but as your partner, your confidant, and your love."

Sukuna's dual-faced smile returned, a rare and genuine one. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. "Then, my dear Y/N, let us navigate this strange and perilous world together, as partners, as parents, and perhaps one day, as lovers. If that is what we become at some point." Those words gave Y/N hope for the future with him.

As the last few months of Y/N's pregnancy approached, the bond between Y/N and Sukuna only deepened. Their love was a complex, extraordinary force that defied the dark and twisted world they inhabited. Their child was a symbol of hope, a testament to the possibility of light even in the darkest of places.

On a stormy night, Y/N went into labor, and the estate was in chaos. Sukuna, who had never witnessed such an event, stood by her side, both anxious and determined. The sound of her painful cries filled the room, which worried Sukuna as her labor progressed. He was used to the sight of death, but the sight of life happening before his eyes, made him awestruck at the beauty of labor.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N sighed in relief as the cries of a newborn filled the air, echoing through the chamber. Y/N held their child, a tiny being that was so fragile and new in the world.

She looked up at Sukuna who had stayed almost silent during the whole thing, hoping he would say something.

Sukuna, the Cursed King, gazed down at the child in Y/N's arms with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His four eyes, were fixed on the newborn, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world had disappeared, leaving only the small family in that chamber.

For all his terrifying power and monstrous appearance, Sukuna was utterly captivated by the sight of his child. He carefully reached out to hold the child, and Y/N gently handed their son to him. The baby grasped one of his father's finger with a tiny, delicate hand, and the Cursed King's lips curled into a rare and gentle smile.

"He has my extra pair of arms." Sukuna said, releasing a soft chuckle, his voice filled with wonder. “He does seem to have my hair, but he does have your face.”

Y/N watched the father and son with tears of joy in her eyes. It was a moment of profound beauty in the midst of their dark and twisted world. She had never imagined that she would be sharing such an intimate and heartwarming moment with Sukuna, the most feared sorcerer of their time.

As the hours passed, Sukuna and Y/N took turns cradling and caring for their newborn. Their love for each other and their child grew stronger with each passing moment. They named their son Kaito, signifying a new beginning, a departure from the cursed legacy of the past.

As the two raised their child overtime, Sukuna was technically a changed man… for them at least. He still killed and reigned terror as he pleased, but the second he would return home to his wife and son, he showed his deep care and genuine love (as much as he hates to admit it) to them. Sukuna might be the king of curses, but he has a special place in his heart saved for who he calls his family.

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ghosts-u · 2 months

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When Charlie was first born things had been… tense between Lucifer and heaven. While they had never directly threatened the life of his child the angels had made their displeasure at the implications of Lucifer having children known. They had never said out right for Lucifer not to have more children. But the indirect threats and the particularly Brutal extermination the year that Charlie was born was enough for him to get the message.

Still he would never let them hurt his child he loved Charlie with all his heart and no matter what he would protect his daughter.

The angels did not want Lucifer having more children, and he was content with only having one child. He knew he was not the best father for Charlie a part of him did want to have a chance to try again but he never actually thought he would get the chance.

—

Lucifer’s heart swelled as he stared at the little bundle in his arms. Lilith stood looking at the child pensively she reached over gently touching the baby's cheek and sighs. “How do you think the angels will react once they find out about her?” Lilith questioned. And Lucifer was conflicted the last thing he would ever want is for anything to happen to this child but… He stared down at the baby snuggled soundly in his arms and he could never imagine anyone hurting her.

But he knew the angels would, especially if it was to punish him. Dark thoughts started to haunt him of what would happen once they found out. They never said directly he couldn’t have more children so maybe this time they would give him a direct warning? Or most likely they would just kill his baby…or possibly even Charlie to send a message.

There was an even higher possibility of them just killing both. And though Lucifer hated him self for it for a brief moment he contemplated Just ridding him self of the problem entirely to protect Charlie from the potential risk.

Cute little eyes look up at him as the little girl opens her eyes for the first time, and in that moment Lucifer knew he could never forsake this child, his baby. “They won’t.” He says rocking the baby in his arms his eyes filled with resolve. “They won’t ever know about her.” Lilith looks at him her eyes furrowed yet words seem to leave her as just by looking at him she can tell he’s made his choice. “And your sure that’s the best option? Won’t it caused even more trouble if they find out we hid this from them?”

“We are under no obligation to report to them when we have children. If we hadn’t announced Charlie’s birth they wouldn’t have known about her existence either. She is not the heir to the throne so there is no need to officially announce her birth.” Lucifer states walking over to the window and closing the blinds. “And what about Charlie are we going to tell her?” Lilith asks. “No, she’s more than 100 years old now while I'm sure she would be happy to have a sibling it’s not like they would be growing up together. Besides you know how she is I’m sure she would protest about her sister not being officially recognized.”

Lilith approaches Lucifer and tries to take the small girl but Lucifer pulls away. “You had gotten to raise Charlotte. I-I just…I want to be a real father to her. I want to protect her I don’t want her to have to suffer in this place, I want her to have better than this…” He says with a sad smile. Lilith eyes narrow and she looks away and with a heavy sigh she turns away from the two. “Fine. That’s fair I had Charlotte you have this one…”

“Y/N”

Lilith looks back momentarily. “What?” “Y/N it’s there name.” Lucifer says looking down at Y/N as if she was the only thing in the world. Lilith holds back from grabbing the baby in his arms she knew he would never hurt the small girl. Yet she could feel her heart dropping to her stomach as she watched the two. “I…it’s a Beautiful name.” She says before walking out of the room feeling as if she was running away.

Liliths and Lucifer’s relationship had been on the decline ever since Charlie was born and with the birth of Y/N it was pretty much over. Not that Lucifer didn’t love his wife he still loved her even if now every time she looked at him he could see a hint of discussed in her eyes. Even if they had moved to separate wings of the palace and she no longer made attempts at seeing Y/N as if it pained her to see her child confined. It was fine, he still loved her and as for Y/N he would just give her twice as much love to make up for Lilith.

“Daddy, Daddy! Look it’s a giant duck!” Y/N says with excitement looking at the Duck shaped boats. Lucifer smiled at the girl patting her head he had taken her to the private amusement park LuLu world he had made for Charlie. It was her 6th birthday today and though it was difficult for him to let her leave the palace he made an exception just for this one day. After all soon she would have all the space to run around as her heart desired. “Would you like to go on the ride?” He asked adoring the wide smile that lit up on Y/Ns face. He thought it was extra adorable how the wings on her back fluttered with excitement.

He noted he would need to trim them shorter next time as she was hovering a little to high off the ground for his tastes. It pained him to trim her wings so short, he would’ve at least wanted to wait until she was a little older but her wings just grew so fast… Ah! He Caught himself in his thoughts. Soon there would be no need to trim them anymore and he could just imagine teaching his little girl how to fly.

Lucifer let Y/N run around to her hearts content going on rides or looking around it wasn’t long before she had tired her self out. “Daddy?” Y/N said gently tugging on his coattail. “Can you carry me?” She whined and he obliged picking her up letting her rest her head on his sholder gently rubbing her back. Y/N looked up at the blood red sky towards the white shining sphere surrounded by clouds.

“Daddy what’s that up in the sky? Is it a Castle?”

Lucifer chuckled at the question. “No dear it’s heaven. It looks very beautiful doesn’t it? It’s where all the angels live and pure souls live. But no matter how beautiful it may look it’s rotten inside and it rots everything it touches until it’s a shell of its self and rotten too.” he says gently holding her cheek brushing his thumb over her cheek. “And if they can’t do that they try to destroy whatever they can’t rot.” He presses his forehead to Y/Ns holding her close to him. “They would want to do the same to you. But daddy would never let that happen to you.”

Y/N looks up at him with heavy eyes fighting to stay open. “Sleep. When you wake up you won’t have to worry about heaven ever again.” With a smile he looks at Y/N rubbing her cheek as sleep finely takes her. “I won’t allow my precious baby to suffer in this place with all these filthy sinners.” He snaps his fingers a portal opening up he steps through revealing an entire galaxy, stepping onto a floating planet completely barren. But It wasn’t for long as he wills a tree to form lush green leaves and beautiful flowers sprouting the roots forming in a thick dip allowing him to place Y/N in the middle.

“You don’t need heavens false paradise when you have me. Daddy will make a paradise so large and grand you won’t even know it’s a cage.” He conjures soft blankets and pillows making sure she was comfortable. He turned to the vast empty land and cracked his hands and smirks he had a lot of work to do

#platonic yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #Yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel platonic #yandere lucifer morningstar #Yandere Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic

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hazbin-writings-and-musings · 3 months

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Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons Part 2

I had a blast writing part 1, so here's some more headcanons of reader progressing through their pregnancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He doesn't have a pregnancy kink per say, but... seeing you pregnant with his child does things to him that he can't even begin to put into words. He's always found you beyond gorgeous, of course, it's just that now it borders on literal worship. Said worship will be expressed quite physically on a daily basis; he'll slide his hands over your middle, leave trails of kisses up and down your body, and catch himself staring multiple times even before the two of you get out of bed each morning. He can't even really believe that you've somehow managed to get more beautiful, but he'll consistently try to describe the depths of his devotion in song, gifts, and countless hours spent adoring your presence.

- He'll want to start preparing for all baby related events as soon as possible, in part because the arrival of another heir is going to be quite the occasion, but he also just wants everything to go perfectly. The official announcement will come with multiple days of celebration across Hell, including a massive party in the castle itself, and each event that follows will somehow manage to top the last. You'll get enough gifts to fill up multiple rooms, and so many cards with well wishes you could fill up an entire library, but Lucifer expects nothing less. Every ounce of his considerable power is dedicated to making sure you get the best of everything. This dedication also applies to the little things the two of you do together, like decorating the baby's room. He'll insist on hand crafting the furniture, the toys, and every decoration with you directing at his side, and he'll use the most magical materials at his disposal. Hand painting the walls with stardust is not out of the question.

- Things have changed a lot since Charlie was born, and he was previously unaware of the many technological advancements now available for expecting couples, specifically ultrasounds. He's amazed and wants to attend every appointment even more at the prospect of actually seeing your child before they're born. Of course, upon beholding the lopsided blob on the screen for your first check up, he's far more overwhelmed than he could have ever imagined. He can see little hooves and everything! The doctor doesn't quite know what to make of the King near to weeping at the sight of a being no larger than a peanut, but you take it all in stride. Once he finds out that pictures can be taken of the scans, he requests as many as he can carry, and his pockets are bursting with photos of Charlie and her not-yet-born sibling. He'll show them to everyone that does and doesn't ask.

- While he can be overly protective and his efforts to provide for you are more akin to spoiling, he's not at all without cause in doing so; carrying a child of Lucifer is no easy task. As your body becomes the epicenter for a developing power beyond imagination, you'll need him by your side with increasing frequency, especially once the baby's uncontrolled magic starts surging and affecting your reality. You'll be unharmed, but it's still quite nice to have Archangel level powers around to get things back to normal once you start inexplicably walking up the walls, speaking in dead languages or levitating random items with a glance. He takes it all in stride with humorous stories about how Charlie did the same before her arrival, though your cravings for increasingly esoteric rare foods do have him apologizing for the inconveniences of angelic biology, as even he needs a few days to acquire the rarer items your body demands.

- As delighted as he is to have another child, he can't help but be haunted by doubts of all he's done wrong as a father so far. No matter how much of it was out of his control, he fears everything that went wrong will happen again, and that he might just be gaining a second child to fail. It's only through your loving reassurance that he retains some faith in himself, and dares to believe he'll be a halfway decent dad to two children.

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bluerosefox · 1 year

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Same As The Day I Lost You

I...

This came to me as I'm making dinner so I'll be quick.

What if we mix deaged Danny and twin/older sibling (either one works) Damian, AND he gets tossed to his sibling in a last minute escape.

Like what if he was fighting Vlad who was doing his whole "denounce your father and join me as my son Daniel!" Thing while in the Zone and knocks Danny into something that's floating in the Zone with the ability to deage or was hit by a new Fenton or Plasmius invention while fighting in town that accidentally deages him.

Danny, who in this was adopted, gets put back to the age of six. The same age he had been found by Jazz in a 'haunted' forest Jack and Maddie were visiting/investigating while also using that time as a family vacation. (They were shocked to see a little boy with a stab wound bleeding out and rushed him to the nearby town, almost completely forgetting about the glowing green tiny puddle they found nearby and bagged most of it as evidence when they heard Jazz's scream of terror over finding the hurt little boy)

The sudden revert into that traumatized age, along with the child response to a fight or flight scenario, and add Danny's deepest need/wish to be protected his child fogged mind wishes to go to the one person who always made him feel safe.

His twin/older brother.

Just as quick as it was with Danny being turned into a child, his ghost powers ripped open a portal and sent Danny to the person he wants to be with...

Only he didn't know that right at that moment his seventeen year old twin/older brother is currently fighting the League with his family's help (his mother was trying to convince him to return to the League and be it's heir) in Nanda Parbat (the very place Damian lost the last/only person he knew loved him without any strings attached.)

So imagine everyone's face when a portal opened up, some muttering its a new pit being formed before them or something, and crawling out of it is a very scared and confused six year old Danny.

#danny phantom dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #crossover #dc x dp crossover #No one will be ready for child Danny #Does he have his older memories? idk maybe #maybe his six year old mind from the sudden deage is at front rn or something #Damian almost feral/angry screams at his mother for 'daring to try to replace Danyal with a cheap clone'#only to see the look on her face and knows this wasn't planned #his little brother who he secretly watched as his mother tried to go behind grandfather's back to heal only for the pit to greedily keep #was brought back by the pits not looking a day over the age he lost him #What happened was Danny disobeyed an order from Ra's and was punished for it #he almost died for it and Talia wanted very badly to keep him because he looked so much like her beloved and she couldn't bare losing that #Only the pits kept Danyal instead of bringing him back #or rather under the guide of a certain entity he was brought to the forest the Fenton's were visiting #Damian scoops Danyal up when he see's the look in his mother's eyes shift from shock to calculating greed/love #he refuses to leave his brother in the hands of the League or his mother #he loves her despite everything but knows Danyal would never truly survive their mother's version of 'love' especially in the League #Also Damian may have...refused/forgotten to tell the others about Danyal #so cue them being horrifically confused #The pure sick feeling and deep seeded panic Bruce feels when he see's the mini version of himself but with hints of Talia hits hard #blue rambles

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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fae zedaph, avian tango, and/or butterfly impulse?

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in. He breathes out. He looks at Zedaph.

"Okay. Why do you have a baby," Tango says.

"Well, it was an accident!" Zedaph says.

"How! How do you accidentally end up with a baby!" Tango says. He pauses. He considers what he has just said. He revises: "How do you or I accidentally end up with a baby! I am a robot and you are an immortal fairy creature. You can't babyificate. I know. You've checked."

"You don't have to sound so haunted," Zedaph says, vaguely hurt.

"I am very haunted by most of what you do, that's not the point. How did you end up with a baby! I can't take care of a baby, Zedaph! You definitely can't take care of a baby! What are we going to do with a baby?"

Zedaph shuffles his feet. When they'd first met, Tango had been reluctantly impressed with how human Zedaph's mannerisms were for a guy who, at that time, still hadn't been entirely certain you weren't supposed to eat people who were rude to you. He's come a long way since Tango had discovered he was just alive enough to be able to accidentally slip into the feywild, and Zedaph discovered he was actually much happier experimenting in the human world most of the time than dealing with other fair folk and their 'predictable rules' and 'annoying laws of hospitality'.

If Tango wasn't mostly made of steel and cold iron, he probably wouldn't have survived the early encounters with Zedaph. Nowadays, though, it's easy to mistake Zedaph for just an exceptionally weird human. Sure, he still looks at everyone a little bit like they're more of an experiment or strange animal than a person, but that's just Zedaph. Even if he were human, Tango's pretty sure he'd follow his own idiosyncratic laws.

None of this explains why he has a baby.

"Okay, look, it's not my fault this time, I swear," Zedaph says. "It's--look, I was in-town, and there was this guy, and he made a bargain with me! It was a very little bargain! I didn't think he'd break it. Honest! He just wanted gold--"

"Oh no," mutters Tango.

"--and I just told him that I wanted him to take care of a sheep for me without looking at it! I wanted to see what would happen if a sheep grew up without anyone looking at it. Would it want to look at other people more or less? You know my problems with sheep and looking at me."

"I hate that I know where this is going," Tango says.

"And he was all like, oh that's easy, I won't break that bargain. And I remembered what you said about how most people don't like having their babies swapped out with fey, which still doesn't really make sense honestly because I think a baby me is WAY more exciting than a baby human to take care of and also then I can experiment with the baby human but that's not the point. The point is that you said most people would avoid that! So I said, okay, if you break our bargain and look at the sheep, I'll come take your first baby. It's a traditional fey thing! I thought he wouldn't do it! I don't want a baby, I want a traumatized sheep!"

"Sometimes I wonder if my inventor knew my life would end up like this," Tango says.

"So imagine my shock when one day I just--poof--I have a baby!"

"I don't know how to take care of a baby," Tango says. "You absolutely shouldn't be trusted with a baby. What do we do with a baby."

The two of them look at the child.

"I mean, I cast a spell on it so it would sleep?" Zedaph says tentatively. "But to be totally honest with you, I don't actually know how long those last. You know how it is with my magic."

"I have decided this is Impulse's problem," Tango responds after a moment. "We give the baby to Impulse. He's a human. Humans know what to do with babies, right?"

Zedaph gives Tango an extremely skeptical look. "I got this one from a human."

"Impulse will suffer with us," Tango says.

"Sold," Zedaph says. "Let's go give Impulse a surprise baby."

"Please don't phrase it like that," Tango says, and they both start heading in the direction of where Tango thinks Impulse is currently living. Surely, he has the solution to this problem. Surely.

#answered #ask game #prompt ficlet #a bee fic #hermitcraft #zedaph #tangotek #and also a baby i guess #anyway i feel like fae zedaph would get into a bunch fo weird hijinks #so my brain invented. this entire au for that.

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bluetooththereptile · 6 months

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The heir

(yandere Thomas Wayne x male reader x potential yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Summary: You never belonged to the world of what would be called by the dimension travelers, the earth 2. You never wanted to end up in the hands of a violent grumpy old man that seemed oh so lonely,but you did and you have build yourself a life by his side, but everything is about to change, and your old man Thomas, wouldn't like it at all.

Tw: mentions of abuse,violence,injuries and unhealthy yandere tendencies.

"For God's sake old man, just take tonight off!" You groaned as you tried to stop Thomas from putting his suit on, the argument had been going on for the past 15 minutes and he had been trying to ignore you, the old bat gave you a side eye glare, the usual response, but you knew it wasn't harsh, he could never be harsh with you, not anymore. He still regretted the day he had slapped you all those years ago, the image of your teary eyes was etched in his memory and nearly as haunting as the memory of Bruce's death. Thomas finally grunted in your response "Leave me be kid".

But you were determined to make him take tonight off, he deserved to rest and take his mind off of the worries of the bleak world out there, you didn't like to see him in that state, nearly drunk and wrecked, it was the night of Bruce's death, and you hated the fact that no matter how much you tried to make him feel better, every year this night He'd be in shambles. You had one solution left, something risky that you knew would cos some problems with you and Thomas, you dragged in a breath "Dad..." Thomas visibly stiffened, you knew how much you calling him by that meant to him and whenever you did so he'd become overbearingly protective of you for the following days days. You did it all the time when you were in your preteens unknowingly feeding into the melting pot of his emotions, but when you started to grow up it turned into something reserved for the most vulnerable situations between you two, a strategy that you'd use for rare occasions "Please, dad...take tonight off..." you said as you put your hand on his shoulder.

"You know I can't..." his tone was now softer, it had worked! You sighed "I know, I know but going out won't help either, take a pill and sleep, I promise nothing will go wrong, I and the boys can handle it" with mentioning the boys Thomas sighed, rubbing his temple, he was considering your words, it progressed!...who would have imagined that you had managed to convince Thomas to take in more sidekicks, something that had started with you befriending a lost boy in one of your patrols had ended up with Thomas surrounding himself with lost but talented boys that would help him in both his duty as batman, and his situation as a father who still tried to heal. It was you who had proved to him that he could take in more, you had given him a new drive.

Thomas turned towards you, his blue eyes softening slightly, you had grown so much in the past decade, from the whimpering child that had ended up on the steps of the Wayne Manor, talking about another world and crying for his dead son, Bruce, who had adopted you in your world, to a capable man, someone that had whipped both the Wayne Manor and Wayne industries into shape and became a solace to his mind. He knew he wasn't a good father figure to you, always smelling of alcohol and busy with work, but you stuck to him like an annoying little sticky patch, but he'd be damned if he'd let this little patch be removed from his side.

"You don't take no for an answer do you?" A remnant of a smirk was on his lips "I've learnt from you" you teased with a chuckle. Thomas surprisingly, after half an hour of persuasion, gave in, putting his cowl back into the wardrobe. It already showed the amount of trust he had in you. "If anything goes wrong you know the consequences" he softly scolded and you only smirked at him, making him roll his eyes slightly, you were always like this.

Watching him walk out of the cave you turned back to put your suit on but then froze at the sight of the five boys standing there with large grins "Shhh..." you hushed them before they could rejoice, you finally had convinced Thomas! The boys let out silent shouts of victory as they strangled each other in the heat of excitement, you couldn't help but laugh. You had grown to see them as your brothers, life in Manor with them wasn't easy, but it was much better than the darkness that had surrounded you and Thomas's life in your first years with him. You had taken the role of the eldest sibling seriously, helping the boys with their training, studies, and lives and here you were, looking at them in their respective suits. Brothers, true brothers.

"You already know where your areas of patrols are don't you?" You spoke as you put your suit on, it was identical to Thomas's, but without a cape, the news had given you the name Shadow Hunter after you had started your role as a more aggressive vigilante, turning from bat boy to your own hero. The boys nodded, arguing with you wasn't worth it, when Y/N would say something it was absolute. Not that the boys didn't understand that you knew what you were doing, it was just that they had their preferences, but you didn't budge.

Two of the boys were now old enough to find their paths but they had chosen to stay, you were a family, a very tight-knit one at that, even if it didn't show. You cared for them greatly "Don't get into trouble" you warned them, reaching to fix their masks and examine their belts and gadgets, they groaned and nagged, calling you their nanny, but you were responsible for them and you didn't want to see them get hurt.

...

"Patrolling alone again?" Cyborg's voice made you roll your eyes mentally. You Had hoped your patrol would be silent and peaceful so you'd go back soon, but apparently, it wouldn't happen. You turned to meet him as he walked towards you, he was always the closest thing you had as the cool uncle figure for you and the boys, but sometimes he went on your nerves, why? you didn't know, it seemed Thomas's grumpiness had influenced you as well. "Old man's taken a day off" you spoke flatly as you paced on top of the roof of the building you were standing on. "How are you Batboy?" He teased, making you give him a soft glare, chuckling in response. It was an old joke now, you were batboy for so long that the veterans in the field still called you by that. After the chuckle defused you sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, looking at a commercial board as you drifted into your thoughts, something inside you made you feel this rather peaceful night was just a calm before the storm, you kept the comms open so if anything was going to happen, you'd hear the boys.

You looked at your shadow cast on the rooftop, tall and board-shouldered, 20 years had passed, a lifetime in a world you didn't belong to. You didn't know but in your original world you were technically the very first Robin of Batman, Bruce hadn't spoken of you since you were pushed into another dimension by the mad scientist that you and Bruce had tried to stop, thinking you were lost in time and space, technically dead. You were only with Bruce for six months, two years before he took Dick in. You were nine and lost in a much darker world. You didn't blame Bruce, actually, you hardly thought of him or your original world, there you were an orphan, unwanted, here, even if it wasn't easy, you had your own family and friends.

Why Thomas took you in though? Suddenly the question popped into your head, making you narrow your eyes at the thought. You didn't know why, Thomas was a very hard man to deal with from the start, his mental space wasn't right at all, and it still was not in a good shape either, perhaps because he had lost a son and now another boy close to Bruce's age at the time of his death had appeared out of nowhere he kept you. Abusive for the first few years, angry and drunk for nearly all the time, you were afraid of Thomas when you were younger, but still you stuck by his side, taking it his tough love, you didn't have any options.

But before you both could figure everything out, things changed after that incident, you had gotten into a fight and it had nearly caused your death, Thomas had slapped you so hard that you fell on the ground, looking up at him with teary eyes. After that Thomas changed, he became more patient with you, took in more boys, and soon the name Wayne was plastered on your ID card, and you had ended up following the path of the semi-CEO of the Wayne industries, the heir of legacies of Batman and Thomas Wayne.

The hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. "As usual lost in your thoughts eh?" You shrugged at cyborg, making him smile "I give the right to do so" he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly "Being bat's boy isn't easy..." he said, pointing at the scar on your jaw, Thomas once had beat you so hard that it's scar's place didn't heal completely. You smiled slightly at that "I'm not complaining" you responded, You had forgiven Thomas a long time ago, he had tried his best to take care of you and the boys, and well, even if it wasn't the best parenting you still appreciated. Cyborg opened his mouth to speak but then paused as he got a signal, giving you an apologetic smile he left you alone, before you could say something the comms in your cowl started talking, it was one of the boys "There is a mess, we need backup!"

....

Spent you and the boys sat on a long bench, groaning in unison. The amount of thugs you all had beaten was too much to even count. "That's a new record," one of the boys said as he stretched "I don't know about you but I think I've dislocated a finger" another joked "Should we get something from Five Guys?" "Yep," you all said in unison. You looked at your brothers with a smile, even if you all were covered in bruises and some specks of blood, but still, it was the most precious moment that you could have, your life wasn't easy, but they made it more tolerating.

You chuckled as you watched them interact, but you couldn't help the tugging in your heart, something wasn't right, but what? What?! You stood up and walked to your motorcycle but before you could reach it you felt like everything around you distorted, even the voices of your brothers, but before you could turn around and call for them a force pulled you into oblivion, it was a familiar feeling, something that you had felt years ago. And when you ended up in front of a man wearing that Batman suit and a few others, you knew you were in a different world.

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vanteguccir · 4 months

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There's someone inside my head | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is targeted by a certain ghost during the filming of the Sam and Colby ft. Sturniolo Triplets video.

Requested?: Yes, from anon.

Warning: Paranormal, supernatural, ghosts, mediumship, physical injury, pain.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I will definitely post more x reader based on the video between Sam and Colby and the triplets! It's so fun to write them.

PS. 2: This one happens in the same "universe" of this Matt Sturniolo x Reader of mine.

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"Wow, the smell of roses in here has gotten stronger." Matt commented as soon as Colby closed the large door behind them, lifting his chin slightly as he smelled the strong scent of flowers.

It was time to investigate the Maximillian room, which was on the mezzanine; the room that held eight mirrors surrounded by gold that cost way too much and a painting of Empress Carlota, who, according to legend, was there because of those same mirrors, as they were gifts from her husband at the time.

And it was precisely because of her that Y/N was feeling so anxious. From the moment the hotel guides took them to there while showing them all the main haunted rooms in the building, the girl felt strange.

Because Y/N was a medium and was aware of it since she was a child - consequently training her "skill" as she grew up -, her sensations with the supernatural were duplicated and very accurate; Not only could she see, hear and feel the presences, but she could also feel what came with them and the weight of each one.

That's why, on her first trip to the room, she quickly found Carlota, who surprisingly allowed the girl to see her, but Y/N wished she hadn't. Carlota was beautiful, exactly as in her painting, still dressed in classical clothes, but her eyes carried so much anguish. Contrary to the hope of Audrey - their main guide -, Carlota did not appear to have found peace in the afterlife.

But what surprised Y/N, or scared her the most, was the hatred in the ghost's eyes, and strangely, this hatred was directed only at her.

Upon stepping into that room for the second time that night, the girl felt nausea rise from her stomach to her throat, swallowing hard; Her heart raced stupidly fast and the hair on her arms and legs stood up, raising goose bumps on her skin. A weight settled on her shoulders and the back of her neck, making her feel as if any sudden movement would send her straight to the ground.

Her hands shook slightly as her eyes swept the room. She focused her senses better, being able to capture several spirits coming and going from one mirror to another, reminding her of the portals created by them. Y/N felt the pain, sadness, anger, and melancholy of each of the ghosts, her throat becoming dry and her eyes burning with tears. She felt overwhelmed.

"Baby? Hey, what happened?" Matt's soft voice close to her ear woke her from her intense trance, her eyes meeting the blue ones that kept her grounded.

Y/N noticed that the others were a little further away and already in the center of the room, talking to each other while Sam arranged the camera to record the investigation. She was internally grateful that Matt had come to her unnoticed without attracting attention from the others.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed. This place has a horrible atmosphere." Y/N responded in the same soft tone as her boyfriend, keeping her eyes fixed on his, trying to convey confidence.

"If I'm feeling the burden in these walls, I can only imagine what you're feeling, dove. I promise I'll be by your side the whole time, and if it gets too much, let me know, and we'll leave right away." The boy spoke, taking Y/N's right hand with his left one, squeezing lightly. Y/N smiled in gratitude. She was so lucky to have him with her.

"So Carlota likes compliments and flirting?" Colby's deep voice caught the couple's attention while asking the rhetorical question. Y/N and Matt looked up at the others, seeing Sam already with the camera on and passing the lens along the decorated walls surrounding them.

Matt turned off the light on the switch near the door as previously agreed before they approached the others, ready to start what they needed to do there.

"Hey Carlota, here we have five fine men, but only three are single and available for you." Matt spoke first while settling close to his brothers, his eyes scanning the space completely despite being able to see practically nothing through the darkness.

Y/N followed his action, sweeping her eyes around her and the ghosts there, internally trying to focus only on Carlota's spirit. She kept her right hand intertwined with Matt's, not wanting to let go of his warmth, knowing that he was the only one who could keep her under control in that situation.

"Can you see her, Cole Sear?" Nick asked Y/N, crossing his arms and looking at the girl with a curious gaze, who nodded after rolling her eyes momentarily at the reference to the movie Six Senses, smiling sideways.

Nick was scared to death of watching horror movies, but he loved it when Y/N watched them all and then told him the story.

"I can, but I can also see several other ghosts that probably have nothing to do with the hotel's history and are only here because of the portals. I'm trying to just focus on her."

Colby and Chris started throwing random pick-up lines into thin air, trying to attract the Empress's ghost. Their words made Y/N let out a low laugh, they were ridiculous.

After a significant effort, Y/N finally managed to clear all the ghosts in the room from her mind, being able to see only Carlota. The woman stood a few steps away, her eyes on Colby and Chris as she held an elegant and calm posture, an arrogant smile on her face, probably satisfied with all the attention.

But that changed when she realized that Y/N saw her completely now, her empty eyes going to the girl, a flame of anger and disdain shining behind them, seeming to penetrate Y/N's eyes and run throughout her mind.

The girl's hands flew to her own head almost instantly, pressing down on each side as her body arched slightly forward, a growl escaping her throat as her knees shook, weakened by the sudden pain.

Matt had never moved so fast, his body positioned in front of his girlfriend's as his hands held her arms, which were more tense than ever before, her own fingers tangling in strands of her loose hair, pulling hard while trying to stop the intense pain of the sudden migraine.

"Y/N? Baby, talk to me. What's... What's going on?" Matt spoke in a desperate tone, his eyes going from his girlfriend to the boys repeatedly, hoping they would have some kind of response.

Nick and Chris ran to the two, positioning themselves on either side of Y/N, choosing not to touch her so as not to worsen her overload but showing that they were there for her.

"It must be some spirit that is messing with her, perhaps trying to attack her or, at worst, control her." Colby commented, approaching as well as his eyes traveled around the dark room, looking for any clue as to what it was, even if he couldn't see anything.

Sam lowered the camera, the lens focusing on his feet as he too approached. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, the blonde knew well what it was like to be attacked by spirits, and if he could, he would put an end to what Y/N was feeling at that very moment.

"Matt." Y/N let out in a pained groan, an intense pressure establishing in her right arm, as if something was holding, or rather crushing the region. She lifted her left hand, placing it on Matt's right shoulder while trying to find stability.

With great difficulty, the girl looked to her right from the corner of her eye, catching Carlota there, just a few inches apart from her. Feelings of fury and disgust emanated from her aura as her right hand squeezed Y/N's arm, and although she didn't say anything, the girl knew that that gesture was a request - mandate - for her to get out of there.

Nick and Chris spoke to Sam and Colby in low tones, probably trying to understand the situation and find a solution to reverse it.

"I'm here, honey. I'm right here." Matt whispered repeatedly, bending down slightly to be at the same height as Y/N while holding her hand that was on his shoulder, stroking the skin softly with his fingers.

He felt his breathing quicken in anxiety at the sight of his girl's state, panic wanting to take over his body, but he maintained control, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself, as he whispered sweet nothings against his girl's ear.

Seconds later, when he saw that Y/N was still moaning and grunting in pain, he took a deep breath before turning around, turning his back to the girl and facing the room. Little did he know that Carlota was right next to him.

"I demand that you cut all effect on Y/N right now. You are not allowed to mess with her." Matt's voice was stern, like never before. His eyes held determination while running around the room, his hands behind him, maintaining contact with his girlfriend's body. "She's not yours!" He growled.

Suddenly, all the pressure on Y/N vanished, and a feeling of relief took over her, as if fresh air had entered her nostrils and filled her lungs, bringing comfort to her body. The girl exhaled sharply, removing her hands from her head slowly, as if expecting the worst.

Y/N straightened her posture, opening her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light. One of the boys had probably turned it on in the meantime, and the girl mentally thanked whoever had done it, finally being able to see the surroundings better.

The negative and evil energy had left her side, but Carlota was still in the room, Y/N could feel her.

Matt turned abruptly, facing Y/N again, pulling her into his arms as he held her head against his chest, caressing the area carefully.

"You're okay. You're okay." The boy repeated it like a mantra, trying to calm Y/N or himself. He wasn't sure.

Y/N winced at Matt's movement, the pain in her arm intensifying, reminding her that Carlota had almost ripped it off.

“Wait, are you hurt? Where does it hurt, Y/N?” Nick asked after hearing it, finally getting close enough to be able to lightly touch his best friend's shoulder, a worried look decorating his face.

Matt pulled away from Y/N almost instantly, ready to investigate her injury, feeling anger rising through his veins. If he could see and touch ghosts, he would kill Carlota again.

Y/N just raised her right arm, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket with her left hand. Chris, who was on the other side of the girl like a bodyguard, his blue eyes still darting around the room as if expecting something to appear out of nowhere, let a surprised sound escape his lips at the sight.

"Oh my God, Y/N. This is bad." The youngest of the triplets murmured, an expression of discomfort taking over his face as he thought about the pain resulting from the injury.

A handprint was perfectly carved on Y/N's arm. It looked like someone had taken a pencil and ink and drawn in the area. That would definitely turn out purple.

"That's crazy, dude. Does it hurt bad?" Colby asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better view, receiving a nod from the girl, who was still looking at the mark in disbelief.

"When you said you were Lorraine Warren, I didn't think you would perform the entire The Conjuring movie. If I had known, I would have brought a priest and some holy hater." Sam joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, as he momentarily turned off the camera.

The blonde made a quick mental note to delete all footage of that disturbing episode, not wanting to expose such a vulnerable moment of his new friend.

Y/N let out a laugh. The ghosts really hated her.

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send me requests or anything at all 🩷💋

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phoenixcatch7 · 8 months

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In the possessed doll au, Bruce is definitely a creepy kid.

This is, after all, a haunted au.

He looks like a 'murdered victorian child' kid. Even before he watched his parents die.

Like, very big pale blue eyes. Significantly more striking /pos as a smiling adult than a perpetually blank faced unblinking child. He looks like he knows how you die. Pale skin, ink black hair traditionally styled, big dark lashes to frame those uncanny eyes. Just the hint of eye bags.

Alfred in any timeline has a spine of steel, but there must have been at least once when he was woken up in the night to a tiny shape staring unblinkingly deep into his eyes and thought 'I am going to die'. Normal kids are absolutely terrifying to wake up to, as any parent will attest, but imagine being an ex military spy now butler living alone on the most cursed land you've ever imagined, taking care of the only kid after your employers, his parents were brutally murdered, and suddenly you jolt awake in the middle of the night to see two enormous eyes less than a foot from your face, two engorged dots for pupils, staring, still as stone into your very soul.

Bruce, hushed because it's bedtime: Mr Alfred I threw up :(.

Alfred, trying to calm his thundering heart and not reflexively shoot his ward, dizzy from the sudden adrenaline from deep sleep rush, not letting himself freak out in front of the boy:.............................. Oh dear. That's not good.

Bruce, still not blinking or looking away: :(((

Wayne manor is a setting from a murder mystery at night, and it's not Bruce but Alfred that's the main character.

Perhaps, he thinks, it was always going to end this way. Not because of fate, but because the characters of the play would not know themselves to act otherwise.

@puppetmaster13u may I present?

#Batman with the justice league: *goth so dark its almost comic relief* *logical and pragmatic strategist* *creepy but a normal enough dude*#Batman in Gotham: *supernatural murder mystery slash horror game only missing the zombies* *triple edged daggers* *fear gas smog*#Ooh I hadn't thought much of the villains but let's really lean into the haunted aesthetic for Halloween #batman #possessed doll au #cryptid batfam #cryptid batman #.... Honestly you don't really need to change the villains much #It's like that Shazam/cap marvel post. Uwu strong man with the league and fighting off eldritch horrors bent on enslaving humanity at home

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lost-in-beacon-hills · 8 months

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Someone has probably already pointed this out but mentoring is hell. When Snow and all the other kids get assigned to being a mentor for the games they all end up falling for their tribute in a way. Or at least most of them do. They develop soft spots for them. Snow falls for Lucy Gray. Lysistrata fell for Jessup. Even Juno shows remorse over Bobbins death. Nearly all these capitol born children find out when mentoring that the kids they watch die are actually people.

At nearly every turn in the ballad of songbirds and snakes you see all capitol born citizens get personally involved with them. And when they inevitably lose them they all become different. It changes who they were. Each of them gets a little more convinced that their kid isn't district. Snow even pushes the idea that Lucy Gray is practically capitol. Within the mentoring they all view their tribute as the exception. The one that doesn't belong to a district. Their tribute is always better or smarter or kinder than the rest. A few of them even get saved by their tribute. The tribute didn't have to do it but they did. So to them they can't possibly be from a district.

Making the victors mentor the children from their own district is fucked in a lot of ways. Every year they are forced to get close to another kid, knowing their families back home are depending on them to do their best to bring them back. They try their damnedest to save them but the odds aren't always in their favor. It takes away the opportunity for their capitol citizens to humanize them while making them isolated on all sides. They don't want the capitol citizens getting too close because if they do then they'll realize these are people. They allow the winners to go home while being the richest in the district. In twelve, we see that everyone is starving while Haymitch is fine. This helps isolate the victors even more.

Who would want to look at their winner when people are dying and they are doing perfectly fine? Who would want to look at the person that didn't bring your child home? They may know the capitol is to blame but the mentor always shares that responsibility in their mind.

It's part of the punishment for the victors too. It's not enough to force them into prostitution and sex slavery. You need more than bodily control over them to keep them broken and beaten down.

The capitol does such a good job at isolating and punishing victors. You're forced to mentor a child every year that you may or may not know. Half of them are already dying or too weak to fight back and yet you are their only chance of survival. You have to be willing to forgive your fellow mentors for the actions of their tributes because they are the only ones who will ever truly know the hell of losing everything. They are the ones that understand the hate from all sides. The victors are hated by the president, their own districts (outside of the career districts but they have their own fucked problems) and by the kids they have to shepard to death.

Snow's games is designed to make them view the other districts as the enemy and for the most part it works. They want the victors to hate each other but by having control over everything else all they are left with is each other. Even if they wanted to hate each other there would be no point. They have no one else. Their games change them. No one back home is able to pick up their pieces.

In bosbas he reflects that all the capitol mentors now are bonded. It's a club with an unbreakable connection. I think he saw how dangerous it was to let their citizens be too close and just how painful it was to do that job. Imagine being one of the few like Haymitch that had 20+ years of failure to haunt them with a district full of children blaming them for the losses.

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manszen · 4 months

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valentine’s day

pairing. fem!reader x trafalgar law.

summary. law wonders how he can make it up to you.

contains. fluff, established relationship.

word count. 1.2k.

note. i may or may not have word vomited with this one.

anyone could tell from the first impression that law isn’t someone you would consider a romantic.

his usually tight expression says so. he’s dry and blunt, gets easily irritated when something is out of his control — well, that’s just the way he is. but for whatever reason, you admire him for it.

he’s aware of where your relationship with him stands. it’s right there on the edge of a precipice, bound to tip over to the side that burdens the other. a beautiful disaster awaiting, so to speak.

his reason? you’re kind and he’s not. you’re gentle. he’s ruthless. you’re radiant. he’s gloomy.

polar opposites in every aspect. yet somehow, it works.

the two of you work.

it’s a bit unusual for him to be immersed in the thoughts of you. not that he doesn’t think of you — he does. but most of the time his mind is already preoccupied with his responsibilities as a captain, and as a doctor next.

he’s carrying multiple lives in his hands, after all.

but once he realizes there’s no one else in the rented inn that he shares with the rest of the crew, he allows himself to wonder about you just a little bit more.

you care for him, that much is obvious. when he forgets to do it for himself, you’re already there. gingerly reminding him that he’s the expert and he should know better. that even doctors need their rest and help from other people. all the while donning a cheeky smile on your face.

you take care of him all the more when no one else can reach him. sometimes at night, when the memories of his tormenting childhood come back to haunt him, you’re there — stroking the anxious creases between his brows, the frown curling on his lips; and the only thing helping him to calm down is your hushed whispers of ‘i’m here, you’re safe’, your tender embrace that soothes his inner child.

you’re that loving. and you never once complained at his own lack of sympathy, or at least, the little amount thereof.

the fact that you’re even used to his little episodes of isolation, his sudden avoidance from people that have nothing to do with you, you never kicked up a fuss.

it’s why he finds you disarming and beguiling at the same time.

and it makes him mad — so, so mad — that he’s difficult the way he is.

you don’t complain nor demand anything from him. as far as he can recall, it’s always you that gives, never takes anything for yourself.

it’s as if you already know he cares for you in a strange but honest way, and that is enough on its own.

law distractedly closes the medical book in his hand that’s long forgotten since he started thinking of you. suddenly, he feels worthless, trapped in his own body.

there’s a high chance you would feel unappreciated if this slack behavior of his goes on. he’s aware that most couples often express their affection — either by corny declarations or expensive gifts, whichever works — and that exactly where his dilemma lies.

he doesn’t do any of those.

he doesn’t feel the need to do any of those.

but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t do any of those.

he groans. he can feel a headache coming from miles away. when he closes his eyes for a quick rest, he imagines you playfully scowling and ready to berate him for overworking his brain yet again.

“damn it,” he shakes his head. this is why he tries not to delve into his feelings. you make him feel warm all over and giddy.

he glances at the scenery past the open windows, watching the gentle wind breeze through the row of bushes outside. he sees something that piques his interest, and upon confirmation, unintentionally uses his powers to check it a tiny bit closer.

“room,” he commands, and the pale blue sphere immediately covers the area with him at its center. he unsheathes kikoku from her scabbard, and expertly severs the object he has his eyes on.

once he thinks he got it, he snatches a random napkin on the table and directs again, “shambles.”

whatever is exchanged in the center of his palm brings out a soft smile to his lips.

“hey, captain.”

in his haste, law hides his flustered hands beneath the table. “hey, you’re back early,” he coughs, seeing you so picturesque at the inn’s entry way.

“my feet are tired.” yawning, you saunter over to him. “did you have fun?”

“more or less. want to retire for the night?”

you nod.

he collects his things before leading you back to his room. he makes sure to not show his hands to you, but even if he does, you’re more fixated on the trinkets that are scattered around in the hallway.

“i think i like this inn better than the last one,” you muse.

he grunts as a reply, but then remembers about his earlier agenda — his newfound agenda of becoming a better boyfriend. “same here,” he says in between his teeth, earning him a puzzled look and an even more amused smile from you.

you don’t comment on his behavior. it’s silent for a while, only the sounds of your footsteps could be heard across the floor. he opens the door to his room, side-stepping to let you in first, which again, earned him a skeptical glance.

“ladies first,” he tries to be smooth, but heaven knows it sounds incredibly hoarse.

still, he’s grateful you don’t make a jab at him. you obediently enter his room and he follows after you. he watches your expression change from being wide-eyed to droopy, and there’s a silly little smile on your face as you sigh, “alone finally.”

you’re not alone, technically speaking. he’s with you inside the room. but law bites his tongue, refraining from letting his crude mouth run loose. instead, he observes you like a hawk as you stretch your arms above your head, yawning ungracefully as you do.

you’re saying something unintelligible. maybe asking what his plans are after dinner, or maybe when is the right time to go back sailing the seas. but he couldn’t care less about any of that.

right now, he’s deeply and immensely attracted, and he finds himself walking closer to you.

god damn it. how could someone look so beautiful and unguarded at the same time?

“law?”

“hmm?”

“are you alright?”

he’s now a few inches away from you, and with the height difference, you have nothing else to do but to look up at him. it makes him smirk, “never been better.”

you bite your lip.

“i missed you,” law admits after a moment, becoming serious all of a sudden.

he watches your eyes go wide, before lifting up one tattooed hand to brush your hair behind your ear, sneaking something through the strands of your hair.

a subtle fragrance drifts in the space between, and you reach out to touch where his hand has just been, “what’s this?”

“it’s hydrangea,” he mumbles, taking a long look at you then deciding that it suits you. it suits you very well, much to his relief. “it means gratitude and apology.”

you giggle. although, bewilderment is still apparent in your eyes, “what did you do this time, law?”

he shrugs. he’s not particularly asking for forgiveness, simply that he feels the need to do something — to give you something since he’s usually the one on the receiving end.

“already forgiven.”

law rolls his eyes, the grin you're wearing is too infectious. “you’re so easy to please.”

you chuckle, appreciating the flower — his flower — that he sneakily placed by your ear.

“and you’re a bit of a romantic when you want to be.”

stealing, modifying, translating, or reposting this work on other platforms is strictly discouraged.

#own post #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law imagine #trafalgar d water law fluff #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n

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thefrogdalorian · 1 month

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Downpour

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

Word Count: 1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, Din having nightmares mentioned ✯ Author's Note: I miss the Razor Crest but daydreaming about domestic fluff in the cabin on Nevarro scratches an itch in my brain in all the best ways. I really want to cuddle with Din Djarin during a rainstorm. Is it too much to ask?! Thanks to @decembermidnight for betaing this one for me!! 🩷

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The roof of the cabin on Nevarro has never felt like the most sturdy part of the modest-sized dwelling you share with your riduur. Especially not in the middle of an unseasonably fierce rainstorm, the severity of which has you groggily blinking awake in the pitch blackness.

Your immediate concern is for the mischievous child you tucked in just across the hallway shortly after sunset. You hope that the rain has not disturbed him and that he remains bundled in blankets, surrounded in his crib by the mountain of plushies which have been either bought for him by you and Din or gifted to him by the various people throughout the galaxy who cannot resist how charming he is.

Mercifully, your sensitive ears do not detect any wails. So, with Grogu seemingly still sleeping soundly, you turn your attention to his father. When you do not hear Din’s soft snores beside you, you vocalise your concern.

“Din, are you awake?” you mumble without turning around to face him.

Din shuffles towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. With a wordless response, he squeezes you tightly. You realise that Din is drawing comfort from your presence. Your heart grows heavy as you realise he must be alarmed by the rainstorm.

“Are you scared of the rain, my big scary Mandalorian?” you question. It is an attempt to lighten the mood, without fussing over him too much. You know how much such playful teasing gets underneath his skin.

“I’m not scared,” Din huffs.

You turn over, raising your eyebrows at him questioningly.

In the darkness, you can barely make out his handsome features. There is a soft light from the hallway, and you can faintly see his brown eyes sparkling slightly, even in the low light.

The lack of light is not an issue. You have mapped every inch of Din's face with your fingers and lips well enough to know that he will be furrowing his brow at you, exposing the wrinkle above the bridge of his nose that you love to gently trace with your fingertips whenever it becomes pronounced in times of stress.

You reach up to touch the lines of his face, as though you can ease all of his worries with just your touch, “What would all those bounties you once collected think if they could see you now?” you muse.

Din guffaws.

“Imagine if everyone you struck fear into the hearts of with merely your presence could see you now? Maybe they would feel silly for ever being so scared of a man who is scared of a little rainstorm…”

“Riduur…” Din warns, voice deep and firm.

He can excuse the teasing about the past. You have held him through enough bouts of sobbing in this very bunk after the visions which haunt him in slumber have torn him from sleep to earn the privilege of lightly teasing him. When nightmarish sights of his past sins overwhelmed him, you were always there, dutifully picking up his pieces.

But Din Djarin will never accept a charge of cowardice.

You know he is not seriously scared. Din is no coward. And he knows that you would never seriously lay such a charge at his door.

“You know I’m only teasing you, handsome,” you say with a wink you hope he can see.

You realise that Din has never lived somewhere for long enough to hear the rain pattering on the roof. His covert cloistered in the caves of Concordia. The Razor Crest was home but never docked in one place long enough for it to truly function as such.

The fact that until now, Din has been denied the simple pleasure of listening to a rainstorm in the arms of one you love is yet another detail of his life which brings you anguish.

“I think it’s very sweet, actually," you whisper, hoping he knows you meant no malice, "It's our first proper rainstorm in this cabin," you add, ensuring that he knows you understand this is new for him.

Despite how much Din's past makes your heart ache, you will not wallow in pity for him. Instead, it strengthens your resolve to make sure Din is loved every moment of the eternity he has vowed to spend with you.

You lean in for a gentle kiss, “Roll over and let me hold you, my love,” you whisper against his plush lips.

Din sighs and then leans in to kiss you again before he complies. A touch so slow and sweet, so different to the frenzied way his lips claimed yours hours before. Satisfied, he agrees to your proposal, flipping over with a grunt.

You position yourself so your chest is flush with his firm back, placing a kiss on the centre of his back, between his broad shoulders. Din sighs in contentment. You smile, relieved you can comfort him like this. It is a privilege unique to you out of everyone in the galaxy.

You slip your hands underneath the soft cotton shirt he wears to bed and absentmindedly trace circles onto the warm expanse of his stomach. His body is firm beneath your fingers thanks to his muscular physique; but there is a hint of softness there, which increases each year as he ages.

You do not mind one bit. It only makes his body better suited to cuddles.

This warrior who once terrified everyone is now a little softer at the edges, his toughness gradually eroded by the love he feels for his son and you, his riduur.

"Thank you," Din sleepily mumbles before he drifts off again, no longer disturbed by the thudding of the rain against the roof.

Fierce independence borne out of trauma had meant that Din had never previously known the simple pleasure of listening to rainfall pattering against the roof. It was a new reverberation, one initially alien and alarming to his highly attuned senses.

Fortunately, Din was not afraid for long. Now, he has you to hold him through the storm. There is no more fear or anxiety as he cuddles with you, his riduur, while the sound continues outside.

You whisper, "I love you, Din," before sleep's comforting embrace takes you too and you join Din somewhere peaceful. Far away from the downpour.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fics

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yestrday · 1 month

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What if academy!darling thinks that the yandere's behavior is cute, and she indulges it, but she doesn't reciprocate; like " awwww you're so obssesed with me, doing everything for me, you're adorable" but she isn't in love and won't ever give a chance to them

... absolutely pissed off. you think you can trying playing around with his heart? you had him fooled at first, making him think that you actually liked him, but the more he spent time with you the more he could see that he was nothing but a plaything to you. vixens like you have no right to stand on equal grounds with him. he'll make you regret this. he thinks you'll look better crying and screaming and begging for him to let you go, rather than playing coy.

SCARAMOUCHE, zhongli, ayato, cyno

heartbroken. he thought all your indulgences meant that you liked him back, but you were just toying with him all this time? his sanity deteriorates when it sinks in that not once have you ever taken him seriously. he doesn't want to hurt you, he really doesn't, but what choice does he have? he can't imagine a life without you, so he has to take drastic measures to make you realize that he's serious. dead serious.

KAZUHA, thoma, ITTO, DILUC, xiao

he does not take a hint at all. actually, it'd be more accurate to say that he's absolutely turned on by this sort of behavior from you. giving him a sip of the forbidden nectar before leaving him out to dry... that is so fucking hot. it makes him like you even more. of course, you can't actually reject him. he likes playing this game between the two of you, but he's confident that he can win you over in the end. or, i don't know, just kidnap you. he'll cross that bridge when he gets there.

CHILDE

amused. he's known from the beginning that you've never actually looked at him like that, but he continued to pursue you just to silently laugh as you continue to act like you're the predator. you're so silly! he's lulling you into a false sense of security, making you think you actually have a choice when you never had. don't worry, he'll take goo~od care of you once he takes you for himself. he'll savor the shocked and defeated expression you'll wear when you realize that he's had the upper hand all along...

ALBEDO, XINGQIU, baizhu, TIGHNARI, kaeya, ALHAITHAM, venti, aether, AYATO

disappointed in you. love is supposed to be taken seriously, yet you treat it like a game? this course of action may or may not decrease their affection for you. some of them will overanalyze and think that maybe some troubling past has you acting so capriciously. the less delusional ones will see you for what you are— an asshole. nevertheless, you won't get away with this. you don't toy with a yandere's feelings and assume that there's no consequences, after all. (you'll most likely end up dead)

thoma, cyno, xiao, KAVEH, chongyun, GOROU

you've scared them off! they feel utterly humiliated, and they can't blame you. after all, why would you wanna be with them anyway? he's crying in his room 24/7 or sulking about it. whenever he sees you, he just runs away to the opposite direction. you haunt his mind, even as he tries to forget about you. even when you're not mocking him to his face, you're still playing with his mind... he's gotten crazier, and maybe that's not a good thing for you. (you'll also most likely end up dead)

MIKA, razor, BENNETT, KAVEH, gorou

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yester.shorts #yester.au — academy 📓

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flowercrowngods · 8 months

Text

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

#stranger things fanfic #steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #<- mentioned but established #byler #<- implied & yearning #i am projecting HARD with this one #i’m so so convinced steve and mike are directly juxtaposed in their development with very similar trauma #this probably makes sense to no one but me but alas #let them be fucked up while life continues and let them be unable to handle it #i feel like it’s all over the place but if you’ve ever had a single vulnerable conversation then you’ll know this is how they can go #dio words

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loulouwrites · 3 months

Text

CIRCUMSTANCE . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie solomons always swore he was not suited to be any woman's husband - but a terrible circumstance has him questioning that. warnings: pregnancy, angst, mention of abotion, unsafe abortion, swearing (obviously), unedited word count: 2.9k A/N: this is a prequel to home but it can be read as a standalone :)

The first day she had been sick, she assumed she was still hungover from her birthday the night before. She had celebrated with all of her friends, who had taken advantage of the bill being footed by her 'secret lover', ordering enough gin to make even the hardest drinker queasy the next day.

The second day she had been sick, a pit formed in her stomach, a small, but haunting, realisation creeping into her mind - but she tried not to ponder on it.

She continued her week as normal. She continued to go to work, getting up from her desk every few minutes to sneakily be sick in the alley outside. She would go home and smile through her queasiness, insisting to her mother that she was just wasn't too hungry lately.

When following week came around, and she was being sick every morning, and her menstrual cycle was over one month late, she had to acknowledge that seed of doubt in her mind - she was pregnant.

It was a terrible thing to discover. An unmarried woman, pregnant with a child that belonged to a man that most agreed was terrible, was not how she had envisioned her life would turn out. She had always imagined the moment she discovered she was with child would be a joyous experience - she would be married, living in a large house with a foyer and garden with roses - she wasn't getting any of that now. Not with Alfie Solomons' child growing inside of her.

She would be lying if she had never envisioned a nice life with the gangster. It was a silly thing to think about, and she only allowed to imagine it in the dark of night, when her thoughts were only her own. She would often wonder if he felt anything for her, or if she was just a convenience for him.

He had hired her as his secretary about one year ago, but they had known each other for longer. More women were entering the workforce and he thought it would be beneficial to have one in the 'bakery', claiming women had a better attention to detail than any of the men he worked with. It hadn't taken long for him to push her against his desk and lift up her skirt, and she had been more than happy to let him.

That's all it was, really. She had never seen him outside of work, she had never been to his house, nor had he been to hers, their little affair only existed in the small confines in his office, when everybody else had gone home, and she had been perfectly content with their arrangement.

But now, she was pregnant.

And he was going to fucking kill her.

Her mother breathed a sigh of disappointment as she leaned against the kitchen bench in the small, dull kitchen, watching her daughter with a look of disgust as she heaved into the kitchen sink. It had been over a week of her daughter skipping meals and trying to quietly throw up in the bathroom, and it did not take a genius to figure out what was going on - she had been through it herself, after all.

"I hope he's planning on marrying you," she said with her arms crossed against her chest.

"Excuse me?" Her daughter said through deep breaths, lifting her head from the sink to frown at her mother.

"I'm no fool, and neither are you, we both know what's going on here," the older woman walked to stand beside her daughter. "Who's the father?"

The younger woman froze.

Of course her mother knew.

She knew everything.

"I haven't told him yet."

"That's not what I asked."

Her daughter sighed, and lifted herself completely from the sink, the sickness seemingly disappearing in that moment. Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked at her mother.

It had been just the two of them supporting her and her siblings for so long. Her father had passed suddenly when she was a younger, and her mother had began working as a seamstress to make ends meet, and as the oldest daughter, she had started working as soon as she was old enough to help support the family.

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Her mum had sacrificed so much, all for her daughter to grow up and get pregnant to a man who she was certain didn't care if she lived or died.

"I'm sorry, mum," she breathed out, the tears now freely dripping onto her puffy cheeks.

The woman sighed heavily, making no move to comfort her distressed daughter. "You will tell whoever it is, and he will marry you," she turned to leave the kitchen, "and if he doesn't - don't bother coming back here.

The bakery was buzzing with life the next day, there didn't seem to be spare moment to even take a breath. Workers approached her desk almost constantly, asking about their pay, and threatening strike action 'if Solomons didn't pay what he owed'. This wasn't rare, her workday was always busy, but every interaction was making her want to break down in tears.

She hadn't seen Alfie. He had been in his office when she arrived and hadn't left all day, despite it nearing six o'clock in the evening. She noticed Ollie giving her concerned looks whenever he passed by, but she would avoid his gaze, her eyes trained on her typewriter or the various documents spread across her desk.

A feeling of dread curdled in her stomach as more people left the building, throwing down their aprons on their way out. She would usually look forward to this time, when everybody else would clear out, and Alfie would call her into his office but this day it did nothing but cause panic to envelop her.

"Are you okay?" She looked up to see Ollie stood at her desk, his apron gone and his black coat held in the crook of his elbow. She muttered something nonsensical, that she was fine, just not feeling well, but the look the man offered told her he didn't believe it. "You don't have to stay, you know?" She just gave him a confused look, and he sighed as he continued. "Alfie isn't going to sack you or anything...if you...say no, you know?"

She scoffed at his words, his misplaced concern endearing him even more to her. "Thanks, Ollie. I know that."

He didn't say anything else, knocking his fist on her desk gently before heading for the exit.

And then there was two.

She could have sworn he was watching Ollie leave, because as soon as the sound of the heavy door slamming shut rang through the now empty building, he was calling her name.

Every step to his office felt heavy. It was as if her body was telling her to just turn around and run.

Run away.

You'll get another job, just leave now.

But she ignored the protests of her body, and the screaming thoughts in her brain, slowly opening the heavy door and stepping to his dimly lit office.

"Y'alright, love?" He said as soon as the door shut behind her. He was sat on his chair, his legs up on the desk - so nonchalant, so unaware.

Bastard, she thought.

She walked to his desk, but rather than approaching him as she usually would, she sat down in one of the chairs on the other side, instead, placing her shaking hands on her lap.

He raised a brow at her actions, swinging his feet down onto the floor and leaning forward, his forearms resting on the desk, his hands clasped together as he studied her.

A sheen of sweat formed on her forehead as she sat under his gaze, her eyes darting everywhere in the room in order to avoid his gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it, summoning every bit of courage she still held.

"Have you ever thought of marriage?"

Her question caused him to sit up a bit straighter in his seat, his head cocking to the side and a smirk playing on his lips.

"You proposing, love?" He joked, his smiled fading when she shot him an unimpressed look, her lips pressed into a thin line. "No," he cleared his throat, "ain't for me, all that."

She nodded in response, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"So you never want that?" He just shrugged. "Under no circumstances?"

"There is not a circumstance in the world that would get me to do that, love, no."

An uncomfortable silence filled the office. She had returned to looking at everything but the man sat across from her, and he continued to stare at her with a frown on his face.

She felt her chest tightening, her breaths coming out shorter as his words replayed in her head.

Not a circumstance in the world.

He called her name, rousing her from her thoughts and she stood up from her seat.

"Are you okay? You don't look well," he said in a tone that she would consider caring if it had come from anyone but him.

"I'm sorry, Alfie, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, I think I should go home."

"Of course, love," he nodded, beginning to stand but she briskly left the room before he could. "You be careful," he called after her, not sure she even heard.

There were days Ollie really enjoyed his job. The days where everything went right and nobody got punched, or killed, were considered goof days. But, the days that went wrong, always seemed to go disastrously wrong, and they usually started with him giving his boss some bad news - which is exactly what he was about to do.

"Are you goin' to say somethin' or are you just goin' to stand there like a lost fucking lemon?"

Ollie cringed at his boss' voice, his eyes trained on the cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Ollie, I swear to fucking-"

Ollie spoke the secretary's name abruptly, causing Alfie to pause mid sentence, relaxing in his chair. "I heard back from the men you got to follow her."

It had been three days since she had been to work. She had rang in sick the first day, and seeing as how she acted the night before, Alfie was inclined to believe her, but when she failed to check in the following day, he had ordered some of his best men to 'check in on her.'

"They saw her at Mrs Levy's..." He trailed off, watching as his boss' expression went from confused, to understanding, to fury.

"When?" There was a darkness to Alfie's tone, though his posture was relaxed, Ollie knew better, this was the calm before the storm - and he was about to bare the brunt of whatever was about to happen.

"Just now. It's the first time she's left her flat in days, they sent someone straight away-"

Alfie didn't stay to hear another word, flying out of his chair before Ollie had the chance to say another word, and Ollie breathed a sigh of relief.

He also said a prayer for Alfie's poor secretary.

Mrs Levy was not the kindest woman. She had helped many girls in a similar position, but she had never claimed to do it out of kindness. If you asked her, she would say it was a way to save the reputation of girls in her community and an excellent money maker.

The young woman looked around the bedroom she was in, it was clean, if a little cluttered. There was a table next to the bed with various instruments laid out, little metal pieces that made her stomach turn if she looked at them for too long.

Mrs Levy had already explained everything to her - what would happen, how it would feel, and what could happen after - which did nothing to quell her nerves.

She had asked for a moment alone, and Mrs Levy had rolled her eyes, telling her it would be extra if she stayed there too long. She sat on the bed, her shoes laid on the floor, and her hand resting on her stomach. She didn't feel an overwhelming sense of loss about what was about to happen, but it did make her sad, and just for the moment, she allowed herself to think about the 'what ifs'.

What if she had told Alfie she was pregnant?

Would he have changed his stance on marriage?

Would he have given her the money for this himself?

Would he have confessed his undying love for her and dropped to his knees in front of her?

She scoffed to herself, shaking her head to rid the fantasies from her mind. There was no point of dwelling on it now, it was done, and he would never know. She would return to work in a few days and claim she had just had a stomach bug.

It would all just be a bad memory.

She was about to call Mrs Levy back into the room when a crash sounded from outside the bedroom door.

"You get back here, right now, you little-"

Mrs Levy's voice became background noise when the door swung open, and none other than Alfie Solomons blew through the doorway, pistol in hand.

"You and I need to talk, love," he said, causing her eyes to widen in dear. He looked at her confusedly before following her gaze to the pistol held in his hand. "Fuckin' hell, I'm not...I wasn't..." he huffed a sigh, tucking the gun into his belt and holding his hands up in surrender.

"You can't be here," Mrs Levy's voice cut in. "Get out!"

"Oh fuck off, you ol' bat," Alfie rolled his eyes, swinging an arm out as if to bat her away. "C'mon," he held an arm out to the woman who sat on the bed, her eyes wide and her hands shaking.

The car was silent as Alfie drove through the streets of London, the only sounds coming from the shouts of pedestrians as they avoided the car that sped past them, narrowly missing them as they tried to cross the road.

"How did you know?" She asked meekly, her eyes downcast.

"Had my men follow you when you didn't show up for work two days in a row - you're sacked by the way," he said simply, as if he were discussing the weather.

"What? Alfie-"

"Well you can't be workin' now anyway," he shrugged. "With you being...y'know," he gestured a hand to her stomach, "wouldn't be right to make ya sit in a distillery all day."

"I need to work now more than ever, Alfie," she protested, turning her body slightly to face him as best as she could in the cramped vehicle. "I need money if I'm going to be raising a child alone."

Alfie's head snapped towards her, a frown on his face. "Who said anythin' about raisin' it alone?"

"Really?" She raised a brow at him, as if she were waiting for him to burst out in laughter. "You said it yourself, Alfie, under no circumstances would you get married."

"Is that what all this is about? You skive work and go to see that daft bint because of I said I didn't want to get married in passing."

"Mrs Myers is not a-"

"She's killed more people than I have, love."

"That's not funny, Alfie," she admonished, crossing her arms across her chest. "So you're saying you would get married?"

"No," he replied. "But I ain't sayin you'd have to do it alone. I paid for your birthday night out but you don't think I'd pay for my own fuckin' child?"

"I can't go home, Alfie. My mum said-"

"Fuck that daft cow," he pointed a finger in her direction, he had known her mother for years, and he had hated her for just as long. "And you will be living with me."

"Unmarried and cohabitating? Are you trying to get me ostracised?"

"You should have thought about that before you let me get ya pregnant, darlin'," he looked at her with a toothy grin. Her face twisted in confusion when she looked out of the window, taking in her surroundings.

"Where the fuck are we?" She asked, looking at the big white houses with a mixture of uncertainty and wonder.

"We are home," he told her plainly, parking the car in front of what she considered to be the nicest house on the street. She wordlessly exited the vehicle, following behind him as he ascended the steps and opened the black door, holding it open for her.

"Better than your mum's flat, ain't it?" He threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side as if the entire situation wasn't an absolute nightmare.

She hummed in response, taking in the foyer, the walls were bare, and the wallpaper was dated, but that could all be fixed - and she looked forward to doing it.

"If I were to consider marriage," Alfie spoke from her side. "I would only consider it with you," he pulled away, clearing his throat. "Let me give you a tour."

Alfie wasn't lying. He proposed to her when she was four months pregnant, right after they felt their baby kick for the first time. They married one week later, a grand affair considering it was on such short notice.

Their son was born exactly five months after their wedding, in their shared bedroom.

thanks for reading! for anybody who has read more of my stories do you think they're too similar plot-wise? i enjoy writing angst a lot but get scared that my fics are too samey lmao. so if you'd like to see me write something different pls lmk

#alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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calaisreno · 5 days

Text

His Move

1557 Words / Prompt: Manipulate

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mary was an assassin, the business of her past never quite behind her. She’d run away once, and Sherlock had insisted they go after her. At that point, John was willing to let her go. They were never going to have the future he’d imagined when he bought her that ring.

She was already dying when he arrived at the aquarium, and said the things you would expect a loving wife to say. You were my whole world.

He felt a dull sense of relief, and hated himself for it. The problems of your future are my privilege.

A future, cut short. And still, her problems would haunt him.

When Sherlock reached out his hand towards John, his eyes wide, John saw the horror-stricken expression on his face..

You were my whole world, he thought.

Her body was lifted, put on a stretcher, and carried out. John followed.

Sherlock texts him: I’m so sorry. SH

John doesn’t reply.

Please talk to me, John. SH

He feeds Rosie, gives her a bath, puts her to bed. She fusses; she’s old enough to sense something is wrong. Now she has only her father to keep her world stable.

John, please. SH

He plans the funeral; there’s no one else. Mary has no family, only a few friends. It’s his responsibility. This keeps him busy, gives him space to work out what comes next.

Sherlock is actually sorry. This John doesn’t doubt. He’s not a sociopath, regardless of what he says.

John’s words at the aquarium were spoken in anger; he doesn’t blame Sherlock for Mary’s death. John is the one who brought her into their orbit. He can’t change that, but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if Sherlock had returned six months sooner. Of course he would have been angry, and would have expressed how he felt about watching his best friend die, being abandoned for two years. Six months earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have paid attention to the new nurse, the one who kept flirting with him.

He has no doubt that he would have come back to Baker Street if Sherlock wanted him. The compromise, as always, would have been on John’s part. Sherlock is never going to change. He will always treat John as a convenience, a habit that doesn’t require thought.

Sherlock is rarely solicitous, never bestows compliments, only flatters someone if he’s being manipulative. The speech he gave at the wedding nearly knocked John over. Maybe Sherlock was only trying to do what was expected of him, but it was unexpectedly touching.

Sitting there, hearing the two people who love you most, he’d had this thought: I would have waited for you, if I’d known.

In his own way, Sherlock does love John. He also knows how to manipulate John, to get him to do what he wants. To keep John in the dark when he doesn’t trust him.

Loving Sherlock has always meant giving something up. It means following him into danger. John isn’t sure he can afford that any longer, not with a child to care for.

He has to be sure.

It doesn’t surprise John to see Sherlock at the funeral. Mrs Hudson sits with him, and Lestrade joins them. Molly slides into the pew, whispers something to Greg. It’s a protective entourage; they all know what John said.

Harry is home, watching Rosie. John sits alone, in the front row.

Sherlock has texted him daily, and John hasn’t replied. That’s why Sherlock is here. He wants John to accept his apology, for everything to be as it was before he ruined it all by dying. Not that Sherlock understands it this way; he doesn’t think that dying ruined things. He’s convinced that he had to do it, that John would have died if he hadn’t. In his mind, there was no alternative.

Maybe he’s right, but for two years, John carried the weight of grief. That’s just feelings, sentiment; Sherlock wan’t dead; he was saving John, saving the world, winning the game. He left John behind, let him grieve, because that was the only way to solve what happened at Barts that day.

Sherlock will still leave John behind at crime scenes, run heedlessly into danger, and probably get wounded at some point. He will question John’s intelligence, talk to John when he’s miles away, text him impatiently while he’s treating patients. He will dismiss John’s concerns as frivolous, insist that sentiment makes him weak. He will break John’s heart again and again. That’s just the reality.

And John could break his heart, too. He has a temper, and letting go of anger is hard. Will that anger still be simmering in a year, two years? It’s hard for him to forgive; even in death, he hasn’t really forgiven Mary.

Can he say he forgives Sherlock and really mean it?

John prayed for a miracle, and hit the ghost when he returned. Sherlock didn’t hit back; he made a joke. He missed the point.

But he pulled John out of a bonfire. His look of panic is something John won’t ever forget.

He tricked John into forgiving him—but has also tried to be worthy of that forgiveness.

He has expressed his love for John in front of a hundred people.

These are not the acts of a heartless man.

Sherlock needs him. Maybe two years away was as hard for him as it was for John.

Does John need him?

He imagines a life without Sherlock. He weighs it against a life without Mary. One is possible, one is past.

His wife was a master manipulator. He’s only beginning to realise the extent of that. He’d had doubts, but couldn’t put words to them until he was in Leinster Gardens, hearing her admit that she’d shot Sherlock, that she would do anything to keep John in the dark about who she really was.

The woman he fell in love with saved him from despair.

The woman he’d married was a facade.

He never forgave the woman who shot Sherlock.

The woman he went back to gave him his daughter.

So. Mary’s gone, and what he feels about that is a confusing mixture of guilt and sorrow—and relief. At some point, he loved her. Or the idea of her. He chose her.

She made choices as well. She chose death, rather than allowing Sherlock to take that bullet. When John came back to her, she understood that he would never completely forgive her, that he was doing it for Rosie. She’d chosen to save Sherlock, to die rather than live with John’s grief over losing him a second time.

Sherlock didn’t kill her. She chose to die.

But when he stood at her grave, he didn’t ask her not to be dead.

What he wishes now is that they’d never met, that he could rewind time and make a different choice. That she was still alive, a stranger living somewhere else.

But then he wouldn’t have Rosie. He loves his daughter completely, protectively, without rhyme or reason. He wants the best life for her, the carefree childhood he never had. And he imagines her growing up without a mother—with a father who has chosen to be alone.

He pictures her, a child with pigtails and a stubborn streak. A teenager able to go toe-to-toe with her father and still see reason, take a small step back when she’s wrong. A young woman with curly blond hair and a teasing smile. She leaves for uni, and he’s alone again. He grows old, and remembers.

Does he need Sherlock?

Absolutely, desperately. Like air.

Can he trust Sherlock?

Probably not. And he won’t change him.

He misses Sherlock. Whatever they have been to one another, his heart wants him.

Is it worth the risk?

He’s standing in the church reception hall, drinking a cup of terrible coffee. Sherlock is across the room, looking at him. His expression is sorrowful, not the fake sorrow he can put on during a case, pretending he cares. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets and he’s slouching against the wall, watching John.

Coworkers from the surgery express their condolences. Mrs Hudson hugs him tearfully. Lestrade tells him they need to get together over a pint. He accepts their sympathy, makes small talk because that’s what people do. All the while, he feels Sherlock’s eyes like a magnet, pulling on him.

As the hall begins to empty out, he can resist the pull no longer. Sherlock looks up, surprised, as John walks towards him. His pale eyes fill with tears.

John has given up so much already. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself. Maybe he’ll never fully trust Sherlock, but he’s already forgiven him.

Setting aside all his objections, laying down his anger and his regret, he surrenders.

When he pulls Sherlock into the hug he’s always wanted, this time Sherlock hugs back. John makes deductions. He can smell a cigarette, maybe two (nervous). He feels his ribs, still too prominent (unhappy). He’s trembling with the emotion he hates (love). The world may have lost a fine actor when Sherlock Holmes became a consulting detective, but this is not acting.

“Please come home,” Sherlock whispers.

John smiles into his shoulder, his own tears beginning. “Oh God, yes.”

#mayprompts2024

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