#of course he would murder you if you said that to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thehollowwriter · 2 days

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Summary: Azul meets Finn's father, and he is very afraid.

Word count: 3872

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Mister Clearcove

"Papa wants to meet you." Said Finn, and Azul nearly choked on his tea.

"Pardon?"

"Papa wants to meet you." Finn repeated, munching on a biscuit. "He thinks you should come over during the holidays."

He was so casual about it, as if he were telling Azul it was going to be sunny tomorrow, and not that the possibly most terrifying man Azul had ever seen wanted to meet him.

Azul gazed at Finn wordlessly for a moment. Was this a joke? Was Finn trying to prank him?

"I...I see." Azul said slowly.

Finn did not say "just kidding" as he had hoped. Instead, he licked the crumbs from his lips and carried on sketching the possible menu designs he and Azul had brainstormed.

"You're sure he wants to meet me?" Azul blurted.

Finn put his pencil down and raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course. Papa doesn't ask to meet just anyone. Don't tell me you're scared now."

"Of course not!" Azul exclaimed, frowning. "I'm just... surprised. I didn't think he would be interested in meeting me at all."

Finn sent him a small smile. "You underestimate how interesting you are."

Azul flushed. "I suppose so. Shall we set up a date, then?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah. I'll ask Papa when he's available."

The two of them went back to what they were doing, and silence reigned once more.

Azul was awake long after curfew that night, staring at the incomplete nautilus shell earings he had spent days painstakingly crafting by hand.

He planned to give them to Finn sometime, but... should he? He didn't know.

If he were to end up in Silas Clearcove's bad books, it would make any attempts at a relationship or gaining a potential seafood supplier for the lounge quite difficult.

If they were to meet, Azul wanted to make the best impression he could. Naturally, making a good impression meant knowing the person you wanted to impress, and in order to know the person you wanted to impress, one needed to do research.

Unfortunately for Azul, Finn's father was an utter mystery. Most Atlantica residents did not like Silas and preferred to avoid him, fearful of him and his origins.

"The... the abyssal mer? I can't believe some people buy food from him, if you ask me."

"Silas? I had to move my daughter to a different elementary school because that monster's son was attending hers."

"Tainted blood, that's what he is."

Rumours, often wretched and gut-churning, did their rounds often.

Azul wasn't stupid enough to believe them, of course. Call him a sceptic, but he was quite sure Silas did not murder Finn and cause Finn to become a ghost.

Most of what Azul himself knew about Silas was through osmosis and from Finn. The basic facts were: he was a cookie cutter shark from the Abyss, he was a butcher, a single father, and was married to a powerful mage named Morrigan who died before Finn was born.

"He was a mage, too." Finn would say if asked about Morrigan. "He went to Night Raven. He was a Savanaclaw student, and then he became a teacher. He was quite talented."

The cause of Morrigan's death was something not even Finn knew, and most of the city pretended it didn't happen.

"Oh, you know, Morrigan was like, fifty when he died." Some would say. "Who knows what health complications he could've had."

Azul also attempted to ask his mother about it, but she became unusually cryptic.

"It was awful." She had said sadly, dabbing her eyes. "Simply awful. Oh, poor Silas, he was heartbroken..."

Azul made a mental note to steer clear of the topic of Morrigan in case it was a touchy subject.

Azul's own memories of Silas were few and far between. They were fuzzy, blurred by time, and unreliable. Finn swam to and from school by himself most of the time, so Azul didn't see Silas every day.

All Azul could really remember was vague parts of his appearance and a presence that made crowds part and parents whisper.

There was only one clear memory that stood out, but even that one had been tainted by age.

Azul remembered cowering behind his mother, taking a peek every now and then at the large, looming shark speaking to his mother in a low, gruff voice.

He was scarred and a bit odd looking, but what truly drew Azul's attention was the ribs of... something that decorated Silas' tail, and the twin sets of orca teeth necklaces around his neck. It was terrifying to see back then. Now, though, he was concerned his seashells would be an inadequate courting gift, considering Silas was apparently very traditional.

The lack of reliable memories left Azul to rely on individuals close to him for information, although it didn't turn up much. Silas was like his son. He kept to himself and wasn't prone to chatting .

"Old man Silas?" Floyd's expression turned thoughtful when Azul asked him about him. "Don't see him a lot. When he comes to Ma and Pa's parties, he just hangs out in the corner and stares at his glass till it's over. Then we never see him until the next one."

"He'll engage in conversation if we initiate it." Jade added. "But he doesn't say much. He's not a very talkative fellow."

Azul sighed. "Do you know anything else?"

"Well," Jade tapped his chin. "He's from the Abyss. But everybody knows that."

"He's got a legendary resting bitch face." Floyd chimed in, grinning. "It puts Finn's to shame. He looks like he'll snap your neck if you look at him wrong."

"I see."

He asked his mother about Silas next, during one of their biweekly phonecalls. She had more to say than the twins, and definitely more pleasant things too, but none of it was particularly helpful.

"Oh, Silas is a dear!" Azul's mother sounded delighted. "So helpful and hardworking, and so very polite. I keep saying he should come for dinner sometime, but he's always so busy."

"Do you know anything about his preferences?"

"Hmm. No. Sorry, dear."

"No no, it's alright. Thank you, Mama."

It seemed the only one who knew anything at all about Silas Clearcove was Finn, and Azul most certainly did not want to ask him and risk his intentions coming to light early.

Azul was frustrated that his research was inconclusive, and far more nervous than he was originally. When he finally returned home for the holidays, and the reality truly hit him, the nervousness became utter stress.

It seemed he wasn't doing as a good a job at hiding it as he hoped, since when Finn arrived to fetch him one early morning, he tilted his head to the side with a bemused smile.

"You don't need to be so nervous." Finn said as he began to lead Azul to their destination. "Papa won't bite."

***

The Clearcove property was far away from the city, starting at a sand bank and stretching on to the edge of a cliff. Only the faintest tendrils of sunlight reached down there, but it was promptly snuffed out by the towering kelp forest that stretched on for miles. The kelp swayed eerily in the ghostly quiet, lit up by only a few lanterns strung about.

It was a stark contrast to the sunlit streets and bustling noise of the city.

It gave Azul the creeps, and he suddenly understood why the rumours that spread were always so supernatural in nature. It was like they were swimming through a haunted patch of sea.

They followed a stone path through the maze of kelp and rocks and fish, keeping to the light of the lanterns. It was a long swim, and Azul wished he had better endurance.

Then, the faint scent of blood made Azul stop swimming, concerned.

Finn tugged him forward. "That's just the abattoir, don't worry."

The scent got stronger the further they went, and Azul had to clench his teeth to stop himself from darting away in terror until they got to it.

The abattoir did not look quite how Azul expected it to. Rather than a dark, dilapidated building, it was a large cave with an entrance marked by the gaping maw of a whale skull. Lanterns lit the area up brightly, making it look just a little less daunting.

Mers darted about the place, lugging in fresh kills, nets of crustaceans and molluscs, and large containers.

A few of them waved at Finn as he passed by and gave Azul a curious look, but other than that, they didn't pay their presence much mind.

Finn and Azul carried on for another half hour or so until finally, they came to a circular clearing, and the small stone path led towards a garden of coral, seagrass, and seasponge.

Nestled amongst the garden was what one could supposedly call a "house." Really, it was a large rock that had been carved into, its walls etched with little patterns that Azul was sure Finn was responsible for.

Finn swam forwards to unlock the purple coral door, then let Azul inside.

"Papa, we're here!" Finn called as they swam in. Well, Finn swam in. Azul squeezed himself in through the door, coiling his tentacles close so he didn't knock anything over. He was skinny, but the Clearcove home was undoubtedly cookie cutter shark sized.

The first thing he noticed was the smell of food. It didn't have quite as strong an aroma as food on land, but he could definitely smell it. The next thing he noticed was the cosy little lounge slash dining room he found himself in.

Pictures and paintings that were probably made by Finn when he was a child were hung up on the walls, and large clumps of sea sponge, coral, and bone formed couches and chairs.

Azul didn't have much time to take it in, as Silas then swam into the room and dusted his hands, crossing his arms, and Azul went still.

"Hello, Finn." He said. His voice was as soft as Finn's, but deeper and more gravelly. He nodded at Azul. "Ashengrotto."

"H...Hello, sir." Azul greeted, his voice coming out far more wobbly than he wanted it to.

Silas... didn't look quite how Azul remembered. From his child perspective, Silas was large, larger than life, even. Now, though, as a teenager, Azul could see Silas was not much larger than Finn. Azul himself was several times bigger than both of them.

When Azul was trying to research Silas, his mind filled in the blanks and created an image of an older looking Finn. Now, though, he could see how different they were.

Finn was chubby. Soft, pudgy, and round. His skin was absent of any marks aside from the scars on his shoulder, the freckles on his face, and the stretch marks on his stomach. His hair and body were a lively forest green that blended perfectly with his surroundings.

Silas, on the other hand, was very thin. His skin stretched just a little too taught in some places. His body was littered with scars of various degrees of severity. On his face, his abdomen, his tail, his arms, his neck... even his gills. The long, jagged scar that sliced across the gills on his neck made Azul's own gills itch.

His fins were riddled with holes and tears that hadn't healed properly. It looked painful, and it made Azul wince when he looked at them.

He was purple in hue, and his face, aged and weathered, housed the only thing he had in common with Finn appearance-wise. A pair of bright amthyst eyes that shone like gems in the light of the lanterns.

It was then that Azul knew he was looking at someone who had seen and done things he could not even begin to comprehend. Someone very dangerous and very powerful.

Azul's gaze eventually drifted to the necklaces that hung around Silas' neck. The teeth that were strung up on them were quite obviously orca teeth. Each necklace had a volute shell and a skeletal murex shell, respectively.

Courting gifts. One belonged to Silas, the other, his late husband.

Silas' necklaces were difficult to make. There was a risk involved, a certain amount of power and skill required to get the materials. Orca teeth were not small trophies.

Azul felt like Silas' gaze had frozen him in place with magic. Those eyes, so deep and knowing, made goosebumps ripple across his skin, and his heart jump into his throat.

His unique magic had a benefit that few knew about. It allowed him to sense others' magic and said magic's essence or power, and dear Seven could he sense Silas'.

It was dark and twisted, rolling off of Silas in waves of power that made something primal in Azul's mind begin to panic.

It was ancient. Pulsing. It bubbled just below the surface and promised a taste of the horrors found leagues down below.

Abyssal magic.

Silas' magic was far stronger than Azul's, far stronger than Finn's, far stronger than some of the professors at Night Raven, and it filled Azul's heart with a mix of awe and terror.

The familiar urge to take it for himself was strong, tugging at the back of his head. But he knew better. By the Sea Witch, did he know better.

Finn once told Azul that Silas never had any proper magical training of any kind. In fact, Finn was the first person on Silas' side of the family to attend school at all.

The fact that Silas still held this much power despite that... it was incredible and terrifying all at once.

The fear that filled Azul turned his veins to ice. The overwhelming knowledge that he did not have the advantage, that he did not have the most powerful magic, and that he was neither the smartest nor the strongest in the room made him feel like a guppy in the jaws of a great white.

"Azul, you look pale." Said Finn, though he was clearly more amused than worried, the bastard. "Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Azul said quickly. "Just tired from the trip here."

Silas hadn't said a word at all. He simply stared at Azul, and Azul stared back.

Then Silas hummed, a deep rumbling sound, and swam back into the kitchen. Azul let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and shot a glance at Finn.

Finn smiled. "Don't mind Papa." He said. "He's not big on conversations. It might not be obvious, but he's happy to have you over. He's even letting you eat with us today."

Azul looked towards the kitchen, then back at Finn questioningly.

"That's not something he usually does." Finn clarified. "Sharing food that he hasn't sold, that is. He always says it's safest to be selfish when it comes to meals."

Azul nodded slowly. "I... I see." He murmured, overcome with the dreadful realisation that he could not skip out on whatever would be served without looking like an ungrateful brat with no manners.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Silas returned with a number of plates and platters in tow, piled high with all kinds of food.

Finn perked up, finns fluttering. "Oh, he used the vents. We're lucky today."

The... vents?

The platters were gently placed down with magic, as well as three empty plates. Azul stared at the vast amount of food, trying to see if there was anything small with few calories he could eat.

Seaweed wraps, crab rolls, whole crabs, shrimp, lobsters, mussels, clams, scallops, abalone, tuna, hake, even sushi, and so much more was available to choose from.

Azul's mouth opened and closed in surpise, and for the first time since greeting them, Silas spoke.

"I was not too sure what food you preferred. Finn told me you're quite strict with what you eat. I hope this is suitable."

Azul looked at Silas and once again felt frozen in place by that stare. Floyd wasn't kidding about him looking like he would snap your neck at any moment...

"I-" Azul had to swallow so he could try to speak clearly. "It is. Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

"Alright, then. Sit down. Choose what you want."

Azul obeyed, wondering how on earth the twins managed to make Silas sound like a stone faced introvert when he seemed more like a retired soldier or something.

Silas and Finn seated themselves opposite him. Finn, ever the food lover, happily began piling up his plate. Silas simply watched Azul, silent once again.

Azul avoided his gaze and selected some Sushi (where did Silas get rice from?) and a few oysters.

He paused when he got to the lobster, which he was not going to eat due to the hugh cholesterol by the way, and stared at it. It... it wasn't raw. It was cooked..?

"Hypothermic vents." Said Silas, noticing Azul's confused expression. "They work like an oven or a place to boil food if you use them correctly."

Azul's eyes widened in surpise. "Really? That's... That's incredible. I would never have thought to use thermal vents to cook food. How do you not burn anything?"

"I use magic to alter the heat." Silas explained quietly, his lips quirking up a bit. "It's something my grandfathers taught me."

"So I assume you alter the heat to different temperatures to allow for different methods and cook times?" Azul asked curiously.

Silas nodded.

"Incredible. Have you not thought of selling this? You would intrigue a lot of people with something as rare as cooked food. I-" Azul hesitated, realising Finn was raising his eyebrows at him. "I-If you want to, of course."

Silas gazed at Azul for a moment, and Azul began to panic internally, cursing at himself and his inability to shut up about business.

"You are your mother's son," Silas finally rumbled, sounding more amused than angry. "I'll tell you what I've told your mother. I have no interest in monetizing this."

Blood rushed to Azul's cheeks, and his fear and panic turned into embarrassment.

"Idiot." He snapped at himself. "You ruined a nice conversation."

Silas didn't say anything further, so Azul went back to picking at his sushi, taking little bites every now and then.

The urge to say something, anything, to fill the awful silence was overwhelming, but neither Silas nor Finn were particularly talkative, and Azul didn't want to be the irritating chatterbox of the group.

Finn was currently tearing through his meal, absolutely delighted at the special use of the vents. He cracked open a scallop and popped the meat into his mouth with a happy sigh.

Silas hadn't eaten a single thing. Apart from the occasional glance at Finn, his eyes were completely trained on Azul.

His gaze was intense. Terrifying. It was as if he were mentally taking Azul apart, looking for flaws, for weakness. Azul wondered if this was how his fellow classmates felt when he made deals with them.

"Finn's told me a lot about you." Silas said suddenly, and Azul gulped.

"He... He has?"

"Yes. He quite likes you-"

"Papa!" Finn squeaked, flustered. "You didn't need to say that part."

"-and I hear you're starting a restaurant of your own at school?"

"Ah- yes." Azul nearly choked out, relieved. Now, this was something to talk about. "Mostro Lounge. An establishment for gentlemen, neutral ground between the dorms of Night Raven College where you can wind down after a long day."

Silas hummed. "What a clever idea. My husband attended Night Raven when he was your age. I remember he once told me he wished he didn't have to go all the way to town to eat something that wasn't served at the cafeteria."

Azul puffed up at the compliment, glad to finally feel like he had some semblance of control. "Why yes, it is a pain, especially if you don't have time for such trips. The comfort and satisfaction of my fellow students is my primary goal, and I hope to achieve that with Mostro Lounge."

Silas' lips quirked upwards again. "How kind of you," He said, and Azul was pretty sure he didn't entirely mean it. He sounded too... knowing. "I hope you're successful."

Azul couldn't hold back the smirk that crossed onto his face. "Believe me, sir, I will be."

Silas nodded but didn't answer, and Azul went back to eating.

"Finn," Silas said after a while, turning his head to his son, who had been quietly listening to the conversation while digging into a small lobster. "Could you please tell Timo to move his hunt to the fourth quadrant for me?"

Finn looked a little confused, but he nodded anyway. "Sure." He said, then sent a small smile Azul's way. "I'll be back in a bit."

He disappeared out the door, and Azul was suddenly very aware that he was alone with Silas Clearcove watching him like he wanted to take a bite out of him.

Azul put his hands on his lap to hide the fact that they were shaking and stared back at Silas like a deer in headlights.

"You've built quite a reputation for yourself around here over the years, Azul." Silas said. "With those little deals of yours. Your magic is quite impressive, I must say."

There was a long pause, and Silas tapped his long black claws against the table.

"I was concerned at first when Finn started telling me about you." He said. "You're quite a greedy young man. But... I trust Finn's judgement. I'm not going to sit here and threaten you or tell you not to hurt Finn. I know you won't. However,"

Silas' eyes narrowed. "I'm well aware that you like... collecting magic, shall we say. Abyssal magic seems to have piqued your interest recently. Listen to me carefully. Finn is not to make contracts with you, and you are not to try to convince him to do so. You're a smart boy, Azul. I'm sure you understand."

The unspoken implication hung in the air, and Azul understood it all too well. He's heard the rumours, and while he wasn't sure how true they were, he'd rather not risk having his magic sucked dry.

'He's like a magic parasite.'

'He'll suck you dry until you're nothing but a husk'

'If he can't take your magic, then he'll take your soul.'

The voices of Azul's old classmates echoed in his mind.

"I understand, sir." He said, feeling a little sick.

Finn returned shortly after, informing Silas that Timo had moved his hunt.

"I hope you didn't scare you too much." He whispered as he swam past Azul.

Azul just laughed.

***

After Silas gave Azul that little warning, the old mer was much more relaxed, though most of the conversation was still carried by Azul and Finn.

The day seemed to fly by now that the fear that had swallowed Azul whole began to ebb, and soon it was late afternoon and time for Azul to leave. He needed to be home before sundown.

"I'll come visit you." Finn said softly before Azul could exit through the door."

Azul smiled a bit. "Thank you, I suppose." He murmured, feeling his cheeks burn once again.

"Thank you for having me over, Mister Clearcove." He said to Silas, bowing his head. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

Silas hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm always happy to Finn's friends over. Get home safe, now, Azul, and..." His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Be careful with those contracts of yours, alright?"

Azul blinked, confused.

"Of course, sir."

-End

...........................................

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the fear of god being put in Azul! I had a lot fun writing this.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly

@jovieinramshackle @galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00

@krenenbaker @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @ramshacklerumble @elysia-nsimp

@skrimpyskimpy @casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @the-banana-0verlord @skriblee-ksk

@poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @tixdixl (lemme know if you'd rather not be tagged :))

@quartztwst if you're interested in Azul being scared shitless lmao

#azul ashengrotto #finn clearcove #octavinelle #silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x canon #writing

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puppetwoman17 · 17 hours

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Would you ever expand upon your joker junior thoughts more? I think that was such a well written idea and would love to hear what else you think about it

Oh my god yes. 100000% YES!

That post before was more of an idea vomit, didn’t cover all of what I thought, so I’m happy to hear someone wants to hear more.

So, JJ’s always been a tough convo for Tim. Obviously. But it’s not just because of how traumatizing the Joker can be, or about the shocks and psychological torture. It also reminds him of a grim time in his life. With Bruce still going through the motions post-Jason’s death, and Dick frequently spending all his time in Bludhaven, he hadn’t been watched much. Save for Babs, ofc.

That’s actually why they’re so close. She’s much more emotionally competent thanks to her dad, lol.

JJ wasn’t only a big thing for Tim, but for Gotham too. In a place like this, it wasn’t hard for whispers from the Joker’s men to travel to civilians and cops. Everyone knew why Robin was nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew why Batgirl looked the way she did, agitated and worried. Everyone knew why the cops searched that same warehouse over and over, never allowing anyone inside.

Which was also why no one was happy to see Nightwing, very obviously the first Robin, return after yet another sabbatical in Bludhaven. Of course, that stopped a little after everyone collectively realized that, oh crap, he doesn’t even know!

This begins a collective effort by the more clear-minded people of Gotham to NOT disclose anything JJ related. There has to be a reason, right? No way were they going to force Robin #3 to disclose anything he didn’t wait to. It didn’t hurt that a year or two later, a mysterious figure named Oracle began effectively making every news article or picture related to JJ disappear.

Everyone holds their breaths for the next few months. What if what happened to the second Robin happened to him? What if he was too crippled to go back out?

As the Batfamily grows bigger, it becomes way clearer that Robin #3 hasn’t said a WORD. Not even after they grow closer, when the screaming and murder attempts and arguments cease. He doesn’t say a word, so no one else does either.

Tim goes to great lengths to medicate himself against any variant of Joker venom or gas. The familiar smells just… bring things back to the surface.

He tries not to act like Jason whenever the Joker gets out of Arkham. It’s already hard for everyone to hold him back from killing the monster. Jason doesn’t need some second-rate copy of his trauma trying to get sympathy. Unlike Jason, he didn’t die. He didn’t come back differently, or lose footing on his life, his job, whatever.

It would just be better if Tim acted as aloof and concentrated as he always did. Not make a big scene, and follow Batman’s orders to a T. No need to worry anyone.

Honestly, the only reason no one notices the literal war going on in this boy’s head is because he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Oh, and if you’re wondering what he says when one of the bats finds him the next night, still avoiding them…

Yeah, he full on denies EVERYTHING. Looks whoever it is, Jason, Steph, Dick, straight in the eye and says that what they saw was fake. Edited. Something to threaten Bruce with years ago. Tim just ran because…because…Anyway, he’s fine. Don’t worry about Tim Drake. He’s fine.

Babs groans over the comms when everyone hounds on her to tell them everything. Like hell is she gonna tell them a single thing until she has Tim’s full permission.

#tim drake #red robin #joker junior #batman the animated series #batgirl #barbara gordon #joker #Batman #batfamily #Nightwing #red hood #gotham #I don’t read many comics lol sry #I’m not an encyclopedia #canon divergent #or compliant #idk continuity is weird in dc

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whipitgod · 3 days

Text

Pushed In

Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

one shot - wc: 2.6k

summary: Hannibal joins Will on a fishing trip and will reminisces on hannibal’s interesting fashion choices

warnings: none really other than bad writing and slight mentions of canon typical murder stuff, not really plot heavy and kind of crack-ish

a/n: Thank you for all the support on the last one-shot it means the world!! this was originally meant to be much shorter than it turned out being but, per usual, it got away from me. If you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

Will doesnt even know why Hannibal agreed to this. When Will first proposed the idea of Hannibal joining him for a day of fishing he had expected the man to turn his nose up at the suggestion immediately; truthfully Will had hoped Hannibal would say no, wanting to use his refusal as an example of hannibal never engaging with the things will enjoys. Hannibal had surprised him though, agreeing almost as soon as the words had left his mouth. Will is really starting to wish he had never even asked the pompous man to come.

“Why would you say yes to coming if you aren't even going to fish?” Will questions, it comes out sounding almost bitter. Hannibal huffs out a breath, pulling down the garish orange life jacket that he and Will had bickered about him needing to wear the entire drive down to the lake, before answering,

“Because you said you wanted me to accompany you on one of your fishing excursions,” Hannibal tugs at the jacket again, “which I agreed to,” he gives another tug this time a bit more aggressively, “I never said that I would partake in any actual fishing.” Hannibal gives the life jacket one more tug before picking the book he brought off of the hard bench next to him and resuming his reading, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Will is glaring into the side of his head.

Will toys with the idea of pushing hannibal into the water before ultimately scrapping it, Will doesn't want to kill him and taking Hannibal for another swim while he's wearing what is no doubt a very expensive dress shirt doesn't seem all that worth it given how petty the cannibal becomes with anger. When Will and Hannibal had first settled down in the home in Argentina, Will had been afraid to upset the other man, constantly walking on eggshells out of fear of the bloodshed that tends to follow Hannibal's anger. Will knows now that the fear of Hannibal's anger at that time was misguided; Will shouldn't have been afraid of Hannibal stabbing him to death, No, he should've been afraid of Hannibal annoying him to death. The first time Will gathered the courage to say something to the cannibal that might upset him he started with something that he thought wouldn't be a big deal, he stares out into the water as he recalls the memory.

They had been sat at the table, eating a lunch that hannibal had prepared,

“You know,” Will had begun, setting his fork down, “I’m not a huge fan of paisley.” Will paused after the words had left his mouth, watching the cannibal the way you would a rabid dog, afraid he might bite. Instead of lunging at him with the steak knife sitting well within his reach like Will thought he might, the man had calmly sat his own fork down before meeting Wills nervous gaze,

“You don't like the way I dress?” He had sounded almost dejected, doing a poor job hiding the way the words had affected him. Will had paused for a moment out of the shock of seeing the man react that way before rushing out a placating,

“No no, of course i do,” Will had struggled with what to say next, he had thought Hannibal would be angry not, whatever this was, “I’m just not a fan of the paisley,” will paused for a moment before adding, “it just looks kinda busy, you know?”

Hannibal had worn a contemplative look before letting out a soft breath and responding with a smile that had unsettled Will,

“Of course,” He picked his fork back up, “I understand.”

Will had let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding before giving a sharp nod and picking his own fork back up to resume the meal. The rest of the meal carried on with a tense silence broken only by the sound of cutlery against their plates, Hannibals face betrayed no emotions leaving him a little afraid of what might come after the meal. Will had found solace in the fact that even if Hannibal stabbed him in his sleep that night, at least he could die knowing that he had finally told the man that his tie choice left much to be desired. When they were finished eating they had cleaned up with the same silence that had occurred throughout the meal, the only other words exchanged that night were the quiet goodnights they had both offered each other before they had fallen asleep.

Will had woken hours later to the smell of something burning, he had sat up, immediately turning to Hannibal's side of the bed only to find it empty. He had jumped out of bed quickly, afraid their small refuge was burning down, before realizing that the smell of smoke was coming through the open window from the backyard. He took a second to rub the sleep from his eyes before he walked over to the window and peered out into the backyard. Will struggled to wrap his mind around what he was looking at, almost thinking he was still dreaming, he squinted trying to make out more of what was happening in the darkness outside. Hannibal was standing next to a small fire seemingly throwing tie after tie into the flames, Will almost couldn't believe what he was seeing, he really hadn't thought his words would affect the man this much.

Will had stood and watched as the cannibal threw all of his beloved paisley ties into the fire, a part of him relieved to never have to look at them again, an even bigger part of him was still struggling to understand the implications of what he was seeing. Will didn't have much time to dwell on it before Hannibal threw in the last tie and watched it reduce to ash, dumping a pail of water on the small fire once he was satisfied with the destruction. Hannibal had made quick work of putting the pail back where he had found it before turning and marching back towards the door of the house, Will had chosen to simply get back in bed and pretend to be asleep, not wanting to deal with the conversation about what he had seen until he had, had at least eight hours of sleep. With the decision made to table the discussion for the next day Will layed back down and closed his eyes, not reacting when Hannibal gently opened and shut the door before getting back into bed.

The next day came and went, Will having not said anything, deciding that he didn't want to deal with the implications of why Hannibal had burnt all but a few of his ties after he had insulted them, he made the choice to just let it go and hope the cannibal lets it go as well. Will had thought the difficult man had let it go until a few weeks after the tie burning incident, Will came home from his day of fishing to Hannibal placing a blue paisley rug in front of the fireplace. Will had barely spared the rug a glance, walking past the fireplace to the kitchen to begin cleaning the fish he caught. He had forgotten all about the rug until later that evening when he and Hannibal were sat by the fireplace, hannibal engrossed in the book he was reading and Will tying lures. Without looking up from the lure in his hands he broke the silence with an acknowledgment of the newest addition to the living room,

“I like the new rug,” he paused for a moment, considering, “it fits the space well.”

Will heard Hannibal suck in a sharp breath almost akin to a gasp, closing the book in his hands with a sharp sound; Will turned and looked at him with brows furrowed in confusion,

“Are you alright?” The concern in his voice was evident, the look Hannibal was giving him was a little startling, and he thought the cannibal's eye was going to start twitching.

“You like the rug?” Hannibal questioned almost hysterically, Will leveled him with an even more concerned look,

“Yeah, it fits with the decor of the room, it looks nice.” Will thought the man in front of him might start hyperventilating, he was sure Hannibal's eye was twitching at that point, the cannibal letting out a laugh that sounded more manic than anything.

“You like the rug?!” his words growing even more hysterical as he let out another laugh, “the paisley rug?”

Will had paused for a moment, the memory of the events a few weeks prior running through the front of his mind; he had forgotten all about the tie burning a few weeks prior, truthfully he had forgotten he had even said anything about the ties to begin with. The look on Will’s face incredulous as he finally turns to face the man fully, he opens his mouth to speak but Hannibal cuts him off before he can even start,

“You said you didn't like paisley!” Will was worried Hannibal might have a stroke with how red he was getting, “You didn't like my paisley ties but you like that god forsaken paisley rug?!” The cannibal was shaking now, Will might've been afraid that the man was going to lunge out at him if Hannibal didn't look so close to passing out from the way he was practically hyperventilating.

Will responded quickly, “Paisley is a very common rug pattern, it looks good on rugs!”

Hannibal let out another manic laugh, the sound sharp,

“But it looks bad on me?!” hannibal practically yelled this, Will sent him a look of utter disbelief,

“Are you a rug?!” he matched Hannibal's volume, his tone incredulous, Hannibal let out a soft gasp in response, a look of disbelief crossing his face matching the look Will was giving him. Without another word Hannibal stood, picking up his discarded book, and practically stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Will heard the door to their room upstairs slam shut before he was left alone to wonder what the hell had just happened.

Hannibal hadn’t talked to Will for three days after that conversation, he still continued making them meals and sitting in rooms with Will, but anytime the younger man would attempt to start a conversation with him, the petty man would only nod or let out soft hums of acknowledgment, refusing to engage in any conversation with Will. He had only started talking to Will again after Will had gone out and bought, what he thinks, is more paisley ties than any reasonable person should own and presented them to the cannibal with a soft apology for insulting his choice in neck wear. Hannibal hadn't said anything to him the night Will gave him the ties but the next morning Will found Hannibal stood in the kitchen making breakfast wearing one of the ugliest ties he had ever seen, the man had smiled at him and said good morning as if none of the events in the previous few days had even occurred. Will had decided to never bring up the ties again, if only to save him the headache of having to deal with a petty cannibal.

Hannibal snapped Will out of his thoughts with a gentle hand on his shoulder, his voice soft as he questioned,

“Are you alright?”

Will hummed out an affirmation before turning to look at the man in the neon orange life jacket,

“Yeah I'm just thinking.” Will took in the appearance of the man next to him, his eyes catching on the tie sitting beneath the jacket, Will sucks in a sharp breath, it has to be one of the ugliest ties Hannibal has ever worn; Will believes the puke green color is supposedly named chartreuse, but he can't even dwell on the color because all his eyes can focus on is the horrible paisley pattern that lays over it. Will rethinks pushing Hannibal into the water, with the tie he's wearing Will reasons he's asking for it, but he stamps that idea down almost as quickly as it surfaces. Only Hannibal would wear a tie on a fishing trip; Will counts his blessings that he managed to convince the difficult man to forgo the vest and suit jacket.

Hannibal lets out an inquisitive noise, closing his book and setting it gently beside him,

“What about?” Hannibal looks at him expectantly, but Will doesnt really feel like rehashing the tie argument, especially given the abomination that the man currently has around his neck. He thinks for a moment, working more bait onto his fishing hook before casting the line out into the water,

“Our first few months here,” he pauses slightly before continuing, “How much things have changed I guess.”

Hannibal looks at him, a look of consideration taking over his features, he was silent for a couple minutes before responding,

“I would say things have changed for the better.”

Will hums out a soft noise of affirmation before turning his gaze back out towards the water. Will lets out an annoyed huff,

“You know, it wouldn't kill you to at least try to fish.” Will looks at hannibal then, hannibal stares out into the water, a look of consideration crossing his face, letting out a sigh he finally concedes,

“I will try,” Hannibal stops for a second, thinking again, “But I will not be touching the bucket of worms.” Will sends a look of disbelief towards the audacious man,

“You kill and eat people Hannibal,” Will pulls the bucket of worms closer to him and begins putting one onto the hook of the rod he had brought for Hannibal, “You tried to cut my skull open and eat my brain,” Will stops for a second, thinking about the events of a few days prior, “You pulled a man's intestines out with your bare hands three days ago but a bucket of worms is where you want to draw the line?” Will presents Hannibal with the fishing rod.

“I am multifaceted.” Hannibal takes the rod from him and stares blankly at it. Will thinks for a moment before sighing deeply and scooting over on the bench so he was sitting almost thigh to thigh with him,

“Do you even know how to fish?” Hannibal levels a glare in his direction at this question, before shaking his head resolutely,

“Why would I know how to fish Will.” The question is rhetorical and will fights the urge to respond anyways. With an irritated sigh he directs Hannibal on how to properly hold the rod and how to cast the line, demonstrating with his own fishing rod. Hannibal casts the line with a surprising amount of success; Will, now appeased, turns his eyes back to the water where his own line rests, the plastic float moving gently with the waves of the water.

Will is granted only a few minutes of peace before Hannibal sighs heavily, tugging on the life jacket with more force than necessary before questioning,

“So we just sit here and wait for the fish to potentially bite?” Will opens his mouth to respond but Hannibal cuts him off with another question,

“And why are you not also wearing a life vest?” his tone is bitter, betraying his physical and mental discomfort with the jacket. Will lets out a chuckle at the question, thinking for a moment before answering,

“Because i'm not the one who might get pushed into the lake.”

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shmolish · 10 hours

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(does a lil twirl) hi!!! hello!! i’ve never sent in an ask like this before, so sorry if i do something wrong o|-<! but what would be your take/your thoughts on a yandere shadow milk situation, where the reader truly starts to fight back, resist? 🤔

AN: Inspo from the song "Meant To be Yours."

Shadow Milk x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Yandere, toxic relationship, obsessing, manipulation, mentions of murder

-Locked Out-

"Come on doll, you're just being silly!"

A few knocks would be sounded on your door.

"I already told you. I'm not coming out until you agree to let me leave!"

Shadow Milk sighed. Surely you didn't think that something as simple as a door would be able to stop him... right? He almost found your stupidity amusing....

Oh well. Entertaining this small delusion of yours for a little while couldn't hurt.

"You know locking yourself in there kind of defeats the purpose of being able to escape, right?" He'd ask you.

...

"I don't care! I just don't want to see your stupid face. I hate you!"

And you'd keep repeating that last line over and over.

"I hate you."

He knew better than anyone that those words held no truth. They couldn't! How could you hate him when all he's been doing has been in your name?

He lived for you. He breathed for you. All of his thoughts were for you. It was all you, you, you, you, you!

You were akin to a beautiful bird. One that, if it were to ever escape, would surely be hunted down by others. That's why you needed to stay here, with him, where he could keep you safe.

Keeping you chained down was in your best intrets, even if it did strip you of your freedom... He was the only one who deserved to see you, after all.

"Listen, my doll. I love you so much. Why don't we just end this silly argument?"

His voice sounded so inciting, yet it was laced with a venom that would kill you if you ever let it in.

"No. Don't talk to me unless you're bringing me outside."

There you went again, acting all stubborn... It was a fun game at first, but it's now become a lot more troublesome.

"Open this door," he said, this time with much less leniency in his voice.

He said it in such a way that shook you to your very core. It was cold and uncaring, unlike his usual playful self.

But... you just knew you couldn't open that door. You'd basically be handing your freedom over to him.

"You know I hate it when you do these things-" a loud bang came from the other side of the door, "you always make it look like I'm the bad guy."

But you would not move. You did not open that door. You could not open that door.

"If this door isn't open in five seconds, I'm going to come in there myself."

...

What caused his personality to change so much?

"Five."

Why did it have to be you that he adored?

"Four."

Can't he just leave you alone?

"Three."

He's actually insane!

"Two."

Please go away...

"One."

....

You asked for this, Shadow Milk thought to himself. If only you had cooperated more. Maybe he wouldn't have to do these things. It really was all your fault.

He vanished into some shadows before swiftly reappearing on the other side of the door; where you were.

Ah, he just loved seeing your face full of fear.

We're you scared of him?

Good. You should be.

It's about time you realize who's really pulling the strings.

"You didn't really think escaping me would be so easy right? A simple locked door is hardly an obstacle, doll." He bent down in front of you, smiling and patting your head degradingly.

Tears would prick the corners of your glossy eyes as you realized you had lost.

"Oh, I've just had the most brilliant idea!" He leaned slightly closer to you. "You said you wanted to go outside, right?"

There wasn't a response from you, but you looked up at him ever so slightly.

"How about I bring you to a nice little village and slaughter each one of the residents in front of you?" His smile turned crazed, and there was hardly any sanity left in those eyes of his.

I mean, of course he'd never actually bring you outside. There was too much risk in something like that. He just needed to scare you a bit. Get you to submit.

You'd grab his arm and started to beg; quite pathetically at that.

"Don't-"

He just kept smiling, forcing you to your feet and dragging you around by the wrist.

"Wait! Don't do that please," You'd say in between a few sobs.

His grasp around your wrist tightened.

"Tell me you're sorry," he said.

"What-?"

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry.." your legs began to quiver and you'd take a small step away from him instinctly.

He cupped your face, bringing you closer to him. "For what?"

"For not listening."

It's strange, really. He was the one breaking you down, yet you were the one apologizing. It's scary how easy it is to get you crawling back to him.

"All right. I'll forgive you. But only because I'm so loving and understanding."

He brought your face to his, pushing his forehead against yours.

"Just know that next time I won't hesitate to kill all of them, and it'll be all your fault if I do."

《☆》 Fin

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theheirofthesharingan · 3 days

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Anti Itachi people are weird and I honestly don't understand them. I saw some ppl say Itachi doesn't deserve sympathy because he killed Gaara, joined Akatsuki and tortured Kakashi.... outside of abusing sasuke. So they don't get why he's so popular among fans. 🙄

People really just single out Itachi so randomly among the many characters to shit on because of morality and then crib about their favorite characters as if their favourites are saints. What is it that they feel entitled to hate on Itachi because of his morality and then defend people who did worse than him? Gaara himself is one fine example.

Who'd tell them morality isn't a binary or one-dimensional concept in a fictional world where child-soldiers are common and kids are subjected to being a victim of it and causing it from a very young age.

He killed Gaara

Okay? Gaara killed people for fun. He and his siblings attacked Konoha, killing people. What this fandom believes in is that the lives that Itachi took — no matter who that is — are more important than the lives that other characters took. Which is why Madara, Obito, Pain, Gaara etc., shouldn't be seen as villains and they act all pissy because Itachi isn't seen as a villain.

Here, people, I'll yell it out for you: conscience. Itachi was burdened by his conscience and never justified his crimes. It's literally canon. He wouldn't go out of his way to kidnap a child, manipulate him so the said child could fulfill his dreams after he was dead. He wouldn't unnecessarily attack an unsuspecting village with innocent population and murder them because he hated the world and was heartbroken that his childhood crush who didn't like him back was dead because she chose to. He also wouldn't make the world worse than it already is because he thinks his pain is worse than others.

Endurance, admission of one's mistakes, regrets/guilts etc., are some of the many redeeming qualities Itachi has. Of course people can see that and love him for them.

joined Akatsuki

Unbelievabl that people think this is a bad thing, lmao. On one hand they simp for Obito, Pain, and Madara who are the main ideologues of this extreme philosophy which works on nothing other than violence, then simultaneously have the audacity to be upset why is Itachi a part of this group. Make it make some sense, people. I can't see past your hypocrisy.

and tortured Kakashi... outside of abusing sasuke

Look, there's no justification for any of what he did to either Sasuke or Kakashi or anyone else. But when he came to the village, he had a reputation to uphold, that too that of a criminal who had single-handedly murdered the entire clan that was supposed to be the strongest of its time. He avoided fighting Asuma and Kurenai. He only took on Kakashi because Kakashi was the only one with Sharingan (and Mangekyo Sharingan). Idk if something in an Uchiha's brain goes off when they sense Mangekyo in someone else, or Itachi just did it to keep up his façade. But Kakashi did start to use his MS after his encounter with Itachi.

Either way, Itachi coming to the village, then avoiding fighting the mediocre jounins, taking on only the strongest one, inflicting enough pain to paralyse (in this case coma), but not killing him... That's what one would expect from a "dangerous criminal" like Itachi. Kakashi straight up wonders why Itachi didn't just kill him.

In regards to Sasuke - Itachi didn't plan to meet Sasuke. It doesn't excuse his actions afterwards, but the narrative that he's irredeemable and his love must be questioned as a result is pure unadulterated bullshit. If he wanted to hurt Sasuke he would have done it at that dango shop. When it was only going to take less than a second, then why not do it right away? The only people present there couldn't even touch him with Kisame by his side.

Gai and others also wondered why Itachi was taking so long to kidnap Naruto when he knew what Naruto looked like. Simple. He wanted to get out of the village. He didn't want to come across Sasuke. Traumatizing him again was the last thing he'd want to do.

they don't get why he's so popular among fans

Good thing is, those who love Itachi doesn't exactly need permissions or certificates from the people who don't like him. It's as simple as that. They don't have to get it. We don't care.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #fandoms are hypocritical but they're incredibly stupid too #ask #anon

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quietwingsinthesky · 10 months

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See, the thing about the Amy episode that makes Dean’s actions so reprehensible is not only the part where he doesn’t trust Sam and goes behind his back to kill Amy or even the hypocrisy of Dean ‘you can’t change what you are so you’re going to kill someone eventually’ Winchester sparing the kid right after stabbing his mom, it’s that Amy is very explicitly supposed to be a Sam parallel. There is no other way about it, from the they’re both freaks part of it to Dean dropping the line about ‘the other shoe’ right before he kills her, she is Sam, how Dean reacts to her is supposed to give us insight into how he feels about Sam. And Dean. kills her.

The not very subtle subtext being that Dean is ready to off Sam if he goes too far off the deep end? He’s aggressive and mistrustful of Sam at every turn in the episode, lays the feet of it all at Sam’s hallucinations maybe leading him astray, but end of the day, Sam’s crimes here are A) was tortured in Hell and B) is traumatized by that in a way that makes Dean’s life more difficult.

And it is hard to watch. To spend this whole episode with Sam being completely functional on his own, making a rational decision based on past experience and on all the information about Amy he has available, and for the episode to end with, ‘but yeah, if dean thinks sam goes too far, he’s probably gonna kill him. because sam can’t change or be fixed, so it’s for the good of everyone that he be put down.’

#and then of course there’s the issue of the subtext setting something up that gets no resolution like. there is no point where dean is ever #really going to be able to kill Sam. no matter how bad his hallucinations get. not even a mercy kill crosses his mind later that season #which means that the Amy episode gets rewritten later from ‘explicit Sam parallel’ to ‘well we can use this for Brother Drama™️’#god. god. and really what gets me about the Amy episode in general. like Thee Horrifying Part to me.#most of their hunts are very life or death. that’s how we get around the morality of it. either they kill the monster or it kills them.#Amy’s. not that. Dean tracks her down while she’s running and kills her while she’s asking him not to.#like if she had attacked him the scene would be totally different. but she doesn’t. she doesn’t even fight back. and he kills her.#like she has a kid and Dean is an unfriendly hunter in her motel room. it wouldn’t be out of the question for her to try to kill him #to protect herself and her kid. but she doesn’t. she doesn’t. I don’t know what you can take away from that except that she was telling #sam the truth about not wanting to be a murderer. if she won’t even try to kill Dean to protect herself.#there is no way to look at this episode that makes Dean come out looking good unless you’re willing to claim everything Amy said was a lie #AND that Dean would be right to kill Sam for *checks notes* Being Visibly Mentally Ill #fucked up. why’d they do this.#spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #amy pond #like to be clear if you’ve got a different view on this that’s. not the above thing I just said. please tell me.#because from where I’m standing Dean doesn’t come out of this clean in any way

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godblooded · 1 year

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i just gotta say peoples' obsessions with writing toxic relationships just concerns the shit outta me on this hellsite.

#ooc. your local bodega kat.#[everyone: i love complex relationships! what everyone means: couples fighting is normal! so if they're horrendous to each other #sometimes it's normal!!#couples fight like... of course. it's unhealthy NOT to fight. but there's a level where it's....uhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH and some of what's said #or done that people condone on here is wild. if i had a nickel for every time i saw someone say their character was a wonderful spouse and #then display like 10 reasons why they're covertly emotionally or verbally abusive. the rpc has such a tendency to refer to dv in one #specific term when it comes to ic ships and it's always physical but everything else is 'complex' and man that's worrying. see also: why #i was taught in grad school never to teach streetcar with marlon brando because students excuse him immediately due to his looks and his #bullshit angst. it's alarming as fuck. coming from parents who were sometimes physically abusive (to me and each other) like... this also #needs to be recognized in self-critical media. there's so much shit that needs evaluating. and it's not like i've never written a toxic #ship. i wrote the fucking WORST on at one point because i was too chickenshit to get alana out of it. and it ended in her being DESTROYED.#you know. like those kind of relationships tend to end in. like. my ex-father beat the fuck out of a dude in a bar who hit on my mom and #then when he found out the guy died a day later it was military or jail and he went military. and then my mom took him BACK. this is REAL #LIFE SHIT. writing it is virtually incredibly depressing and writing it without making clear it's fucked up is worse. whether you've been #through it or not. in that case: why even. shit hurts enough when you go through it. why would you want to vicariously go through it #being a fake person if there was no way to turn the outcome through healing and positive growth. sorry for being an optimist basically.]#domestic violence mention /#domestic abuse mention /#abuse mention /#murder mention /#[i'm just thinking back on the most toxic fucking verse i ever had and how glad i am said person and i no longer speak.]

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spideygal · 4 months

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Thinking about the disturbing implications of Cain's story and destiny from the Bible rn

#cw religion #no because like. cain didn't come out of the womb throwing rocks; how did he even think that it was healthy to stone his brother? it leads #me to believe that potentially; he either saw the angel war going on in the sky and thought that those who stayed in heaven and were treated #well; even with the violence that happened (from what he had seen and potentially heard); were. well how to say it. their actions were #normal. god created everything; and can think anything as normal. or he saw his parents fighting. i refuse to believe that adam and eve were #one of those healthy couples; even after the biting of the apple and getting kicked out of the garden of eden. i fear that cain and abel saw #the two fighting; potentially even going as far as to threaten each other with stones; and when the two excused it; the kids thought of it #as normal. keep in mind: violence is not born out of nowhere unless you're god; violence is taught; seen; heard of. it didn't make it any #better that there seemed to be no other people outside of the family yet that could tell them that that behaviour was wrong. so imagine #cain's shock upon seeing his brother not breathing. the shock that he murdered him. the shock that the threats that his parents did to each #other or that the angel war happening; were not normal. his brother was dead now. of course he had to lie when god came by. he quite surely #felt panicked to the point that he accidentally made a comeback to god. how could he not? he was a kid. they both were. and he felt regret.#he felt remorse. he felt anger to himself. and yet; god punished him. cain thought it was fair; because he killed his brother. but after a #while; it didn't seem fair. as he grew up; he thought that god telling him that he would be cursed to spend eternity roaming around the #earth would only last for until he was in his 30s. mortality rates were quite surely high back then; so he naturally thought that what god #said was metaphorical. because caine felt that way. that his remorse and anger and pain would roam eternally on earth. but after his #partner; and his children; and his grandchildren; and his great-grandchildren died; it didn't seem to be fair anymore. he wanted to die. he #had witnessed and felt everything: the flood; the crossing of the sea; the plagues; the goddamned everything. he still felt pain. he knew #why he was cursed; but he felt like what god did; was just plain cruel. he felt as though purgatory and getting juried out to see if you #were getting sent to hell or to heaven; was much more simplier; and had less pain; than dealing with the fact that you were now just a #walking body. something that used to be a person. something that should've been dead a long time ago. and yet. he was still alive. he just #wanted it to end. he knew what he did was wrong. but he just wanted to go back home. he wanted to start from scratch and be protective of #his brother and run away from god's view. but he couldn't now. he was cursed. he is now just a legend. a myth. a terror tale amongst the #folks in several towns that swear that they had seen him amongst the shadow. he must've been. after all; he looked ghastly enough to have a #tale or two written about him. ...would cain go near jesus? to ask him to please grant him mercy from this thing that he had now become?#or would he frightened? fearing that jesus would be as cruel as his god? obviously caine would be worried. jesus is supposed to be god's #child after all... i don't know it's just he reminds me of twilight sparkle and i just had to write this down-#cw corpse #spideygal #spideygal oc

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malkaviian · 1 year

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random oc facts, of the "they have problems" flavor

#oc talk #1- luca developed claustrophobia from the time he was locked in the school's bathroom by her bullies #2- chase got his depression from his mom; who also has it; except she goes to therapy and has meds so its now somewhat controlled #he was quite the spoiled kid by both his parents but his mom was the one who would always agree with him and give him everything #even if he was in the wrong and the worst piece of shit he could be. she felt guilty about him getting clinical depression for 'her fault'#so she wanted to 'compensate him' for 'ruining his life'. he was still pretty harsh with both of them so.#one day he told her to kill herself and go to hell over a minor thing; that same night he went to see finnley #so he never knew his mom actually tried to kill herself if thats what he wanted. his dad was kinda bitter for a few days #but eventually forgave him. and as i said none of them told him anything so he never knew.#3- maverick still gets nervous when he sees cops or hears police sirens - hes always on the edge #whether theyre going to actually arrest him some day. he doesnt know if zachary's body was ever found as he avoided tv for that reason #like he hid it in an abandoned house. it was a horrible hiding place but it was the closest he had and he was panicking with a dead body #so its not like he could do the smartest things in that state. also of course he left his dna everywhere- finding him would be really easy #but it never happened since zachary came back before anyone noticed his disappearance. and with a new appearance #its was like the old zachary people knew just stopped existing entirely. you cant do a murder case without a body #so it was just labeled as a sudden disappearance. however mav is paranoid over it when in his non-empty state #and when hes empty hes so focused in finding someone new to obsess over he stops caring- maybe he could even find someone on prison!#4- rafael doesnt talks to his family due to charlotte manipulating him into believing theyre all horrible people who hate her #and in fact they hate her! mostly his sister. they hate what she did to their son/brother but hes so blind and easy to manipulate #they stopped trying to knock some common sense into him. his sister was afraid this would happen eventually bc he was always gullible #SPECIALLY when hes in love. and well guess what happened!!#5- on the topic of charlotte; she has both tried to kill herself AND kill someone. well; her 'suicide attempt' was more likely #wanted to get hospitalized but not *actually* ending her life. in her mind that would make her parents notice how much they hurt her #with their 'favoritism' towards raven. girl they literally never had a favoritism YOU are the one who think so!!!#she never got what she wanted though-- she ended up vomiting the pills and suddenly got too embarrassed to talk about it #and guess who she wanted to kill? exactly; raven! they would sometimes see each other on family reunions and it was weird #she bought anti-freezer and brought it to a reunion-- she has been on a barista course so technically no one would think anything #if she made drinks for everyone. but raven was just so insistent on seeing the process-- due to actual curiosity-- that she couldnt do it #so she came home with an anti-freezer and incredible frustrated lmao. she was 17 though so its not like it was thoroughly planned #but you know. the intention was there.

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amandabe11man · 7 months

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hey remember when the mcginnes brothers just casually murdered and dismembered a man and fed him to the pigs and it was never brought up again?

#hell on wheels #no seriously technically the guy didn't even do anything wrong #he was just mourning his friend who WAS a terrible person but it's never confirmed that this guy (the butcher) knew that beforehand #and then mick has the gall to brag /in public/ that HE killed said terrible guy when he fucking didn't #so when the butcher happened to hear that in passing why the hell would he NOT want to take revenge on mick??#the butcher was led to believe that mick killed his friend bc he fuckin heard it from the man himself #and then the brothers are like 'oh noo we're in trouble help us plss :(' like OF COURSE you're trouble and you fucking deserve it too #and then they kill the butcher and decide to just go all out in getting rid of the body like the fuckin weirdos they are #yes i know. i'm a swede-fan. i'm one to talk #but i just wanna remind everyone that there are more villains than him in HOW #other (dis)honorable mentions are: major (dick bong) bendix for decapitating natives and parading their heads around like a freak #and who can forget naomi's dad uhh-- i forgot his name. anyway he let his own son take the blame for a murder HE committed and thus let-#-that very same son be hanged for it in front of the whole family #fuck naomi's dad all my homies hate naomi's dad

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

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postmortemnivis · 2 months

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nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

#simon ghost riley #simon and ghost are two diff people #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod

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griffonsgrove · 3 months

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omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you.

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you!

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out.

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more.

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier.

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

#x reader #headcanons #dating headcanons #hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbinhotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #gender neutral reader

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buryustogether · 12 days

Text

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout amazon #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #fallout imagines #fallout one shot #fallout smut #the ghoul x y/n #cooper howard x y/n

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misstycloud · 18 days

Text

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

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