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Veiled in Shadows

Severus Snape x reader

Title: Veiled in shadows

Severus Snape x reader

Summary: After Dumbledore's death at his hand, Severus finds comfort in the reader and makes a heartbreaking decision.

---

A creaking door interupted the heavy silence upon Spinner's End, revealing Severus' hunched frame. His face, usually impassive, was deeply etched with weariness and the burden of his betrayal.

You sat by the fireplace, some mending lying forgotten in your lap as you looked up at him. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows across his face, accentuating the lines of exhaustion surrounding his features.

"Severus..." you whispered, rising from your seat and crossing the room to embrace him, feeling the tension in his body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

He clung to you like a drowning man, his fingers trembling against your back. "I couldn't..." he began, his voice waivering, "I had to do it."

You held him tighter. "It's not your fault," you softly tried to assure him, brushing a hand gently through the dark locks of his hair. "You did what you had to do." The two of you remained it each other's arm for a long time.

But as the night wore on and the hours slipped away, a shadow fell over his gaze. You sensed a shift in his demeanor, felt a determination that worried you.

And then, when you least expected it, his hand reached out, fingers caressing your temple with a whispered incantation. Your mind swam as a fog descended, clouding your thoughts and memories. Panic surged within you, a primal instinct screaming for you to fight against the encroaching darkness.

"Severus?" you cried out, your voice laced with fear as you struggled against the invisible force that threatened to consume your mind.

Your memories slipped away like smoke, fading into nothingness with each passing moment. Faces blurred, and voices became distant echoes.

Desperation clawed at your heart as you reached out for Severus, grasping desperately at the threads of your rapidly fading reality. "Please," you begged, tears streaming down your face, "don't leave-"

It was no use. He was already slipping away, his form growing fainter with each heartbeat. And then, with a final whispered apology, he vanished into the shadows, leaving you alone in a world that suddenly felt cold and empty.

In the aftermath, all that remained was a hollow ache, a gaping void where memories once thrived. And though you couldn't remember his face or the sound of his voice, you could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers against your skin, a bittersweet reminder of a love that had been lost.

#Severus Snape x reader #severus snape imagine #snape imagine #snape x reader #Alan Rickman has me in a chokehold #fuck JKR #I do not not support JKR #no terfs allowed

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An accident

You get stabbed by Otto. Accidentally. It's that kind of day.

Warnings: mention of injury, nothing graphic

Yeah, saving the city and its inhabitants is cool and all, but the fact that you come home to a dingy little flat bleeding and bruised every night... it isn't a glamorous life.

Most days, being a vigilante superhero wannabe isn't what they crank it up to be.

Most of the time though, you're dealing with petty criminals, leaving the world saving stuff up to the super soldiers and the super spies. You concern yourself with the local tough guys, who get -in your humble opinion- more ridiculous by the day. (You mean: a guy in a rhinos' suit, come on.)

One villain (if you even call him that) you don't mind going up against is the notorious Doc Ock, or well... Otto, as you call him. You never really had beef with him. You both gave a good show when your paths crossed, being a superhero and a self-proclaimed villain and all, but there was never any malice between you.

(It helped that he was so easy on the eyes. And charming when he wanted to be. There were times you were happy for your mask, otherwise he would have seen you blush perfusly when he offered you a hand to get up.)

The man is trying to invent a clean energy source, so, in a way, his cause is noble, right? He's not one of those "let's turn the city into lizards"-kinda villains. (Which to, doctor Connors, what the fuck?) Yeah, the ways Otto obtains the means to support his inventions aren't that perfect, but he steals those mostly from the big companies and does not hurt the little man. He's okay in your books.

Over the years, you got to know him quite well. When the public wasn't watching, you both mostly hung out on rooftops with a drink, or, memorably - on the hottest day of the year- an icecream.

When there are eyes on you, your fights with Otto mostly consist of witty banter and comebacks being thrown around instead of hard punches. Don't get you wrong, you both give as good as you get, but there's never any real harm intended.

You're always fast enough, agile as you are. Always, but simply not today. Otto doesn't know, but earlier that day, you had a violent run in with Vulture. Some bruised ribs and a half-healed knee makes anyone a bit slower, even a superhero on a good day. Normally, the scientist would be observant enough to catch that, and adjust his punches accordingly ('cause, yeah, he's grown fond of you over the years). A vexing encounter with Spiderman has left him agitated, with pent up frustration to boot. He doesn't intend to take it out on you, but his tentacles are itching for a good fight.

One of those actuators, blade out, catches you in your midrif, right between your lower ribs, and slams you against the building.

You look at each other, you pinned against the wall, him stunned beyond means.

For a moment, you feel nothing.

Oh, sweet nothing. When your pain receptors have finally catched up, you feel as if you stayed underwater too long and have to come up for air. That brief moment of panic before your able to reach the pools surface. The sudden burning of your lungs. It's just that... the feeling doesn't dissappear. There's no coming up for air. You can't seem to catch your breath. You're gaping like a fish on land, trying to gulp down a breath of fresh air.

"Did you just fucking stab me?", you wheeze, indignant as hell.

The doctors face pales.

"I-I think so?", he says unbelievingly.

"Jesus fuck, Otto."

"I just thought you would be faster."

"What, now it's my fault?"

"I didn't-"

"I mean, penetration station all day, but this is taking it too far."

"Aren't you hurt?"

"Yes, I am. I don't think I'll ever really recover from this emotionally without intensive therapy. But really, I thought we were closer than this. You fucking stabbed me", you repeat. "I thought we were friends."

"We are-  I mean- are you hurt physically- are you hurt?"

"Yeah, fatally I recon, without the super powers and all."

"Should I take you to a hospital? I think you're bleeding out"

"Nah, superhealing and all that. Just, let me take five"- you try to lower yourself carefully- "nope, scratch that. Make it a full fifty minutes." You slide down the wall and with a thud. "Jeez- I'm getting old, these powers aren't what they used to be, ya know."

"Should I get you anything?"

"A beer and some company?"

"You're not taking this seriously."

"I have not taken anything seriously since 2009, Otto. Don't take it personally."

You pat the ground next to you with one hand, the other one holding your wound closed. You could already feel your flesh start to knit together. "Sit, we can discuss your terrible betrayal right now if you want to," you add with a cheeky smile.

Otto, who seems more and more perplexed by this conversation, places himself next to you, careful not to jostle your wound. His actuators curl up into themselves, almost as if they're ashamed. One of them, the one who stabbed you, creeps tentatively towards you apologetically, but Otto slaps it away firmly with a "You've done enough damage for today, Flo."

"Aww, you kept the names I gave them!"

"They seemed... appropriate."

An akward silence falls between you.

"Sooo, Otto, now we know we've got the penetration part of the relationship part down, think we maybe could grab some dinner together? I mean, normally I ask my partner to take me on a date before getting that intimate. "

"You're insufferable."

"I know. Is that a yes?"

"It is."

"Wonderful."

#doc ock imagine #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius x you #alfred molina my beloved #no y/n #otto octavius #doc ock #spiderman 2 #spiderman 2 imagine #written in one go #so enjoy that

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seeing men’s tits will not fix me but by god does it feel like it sometimes. does it make me feel alive

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alfred molina + roles that make me go bark bark woof snarl

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A handsome man

Otto Octavius x reader

(Little bit of hurt/ lots of comfort)

Warnings: This fic contains Otto struggling with his insecurity regarding his body, belly admiration and general love for the Doc's chubby bod.

---

Tonight would be the night: Oscorps anual gala would attract New Yorks finest and brightest. Every year, Otto made up an excuse not to attend. Until now, with his project up and coming (and investors foaming at the mouth), his attendance was manditory.

When he told you the news, you were delighted. His work and yours required little dressing up, so you reveled in the opportunity to do so. Otto, not so much. He would hate to dampen your bright enthusiasm, but he couldn't help dreading the event.

He has been sulking though since the invitation said "Formal attire". When he casually mentioned, only mildly joking, to a colleague that he would wear his best signature sweater for the occasion, he received the direct message the same day from HR that not only his attendance, but also him wearing a tuxedo, was "expected".

Without the jacket, his stomach pooches over the tight waistband, completely covering it. With it, the closed vest strains against its buttons, the fabric seemingly stretched to capacity. Which makes him look even more bloated. He sighs.

Standing in front of the bedrooms mirror, he's appraising that despised outfit right now. As much as the suit conforms to the current fashions, it does little to hide his big frame.

His eyes travel his body and land on his waist. (Or where his waist should be, he thinks dejectedly.)

You look him over once more. He squirms under your gaze, guessing at all the faults you can see. You're eyes rest on his middle and he dreads you reaction.

You saunter into the room in your undergarments, but even in your minimally dressed state, he keeps his focus on his offending reflection.

"I look absolutely ridiculous."

"I think you look very handsome," you say. He cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelievingly. "If a bit uncomfortable, dear," you admit.

You sound so convinced, he can almost believe you. Even then, he can not suppres a scoff. Handsome indeed.

Expecting a snide remark, -he knows deep down you wouldn't, you're too kind, but a whole life of nasty comments leaves him fearful- he tries to suck it in.

"You're not supposed to button the jacket, Otto," you chastise lightly instead.

You finger the button. It's no small feat to unloop it from its buttonhole, stretched as the material is, but you manage. Once the garment is unbuttoned, his belly surges forwards, freed from its confinement, and he sighs in relief. With the exhalation, he can suddenly feel his protruding stomach press up against you. He freezes up in embarrassment.

Undeterred, you place a hand untop of his stomach and step further into his space, pressing yourself to his plush frame. He flushes but before he can contemplate the excess of soft flesh you're rubbing, you smile up at him and place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"See, very handsome," you say breathlessly.

When you noticed him lightly shake his head at your comment, you to go further. You look at him and you can see insecurity flash in his bright eyes behind rimmed glases.

There's a softness to his body that you cherish. You know that underneath that pliable layer, there is strong muscle. The sweaters are good at hiding his strong arms by drawing the eye to his round stomach, but you know better. Under all that fabric, his strong arms are easily able to lift you from the ground. Same goes for his thick, strong thights.

You fell in love with his beautiful mind, and adored his body; the warmth and security you felt when he held you close.

How can you put that into words so he understands?

You kiss him like your life depends on it instead, trying to express your adoration of him, all of him. Both panting, you place one hand on each side of his face, cupping his cheeks.

"Most handsome man in the world. Was that enough to convince you?"

A gentle smile has returned to Otto's lips.

"I would like you to convince me more, but I think we wouldn't arrive in time."

"Oh, Otto, haven't you heard? There is such a thing as being fashionably late."

#otto octavius x reader #otto octavius x you #doc ock x reader #doc ock imagine #otto octavius imagine #alfred molina my beloved #gif from Frida (2002) #body appreciation #*grabby hands* more chunky Otto please #no y/n #alfred molina #fic writing

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Imagine villians fighting hero's then their wife's call them for dinner they are like"goodbye it was nice warmup but my love is calling me "

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Missus ock

Otto Octavius x reader

A bit of angst, lots of comfort

As a sorry for not posting an other chapter from my comte de reynaud fic (which I'm rewriting at the moment), here *throws fic towards you*. Enjoy

A window breaking, a crash, some vivid cursing. It would be the third time this week of you trying to get into an abandoned building. And it's only Wednesday. So far, you haven't been quite succesful in your quest. Until today, that is. You utter a yelp of victory once you realise you're inside.

You stumble your way throughout the abandoned hangar, brushing glass off your trousers. Finding Otto wasn't all that difficult. A loft in an abandoned warehouse in one of the dead zones of the city. It was a bit predictable, really. There might as well have been written: "Mad genius' lab here" above the entrance.

You find the man in question slumped over a workbench, shirtless. You know he must have heard you enter (the crash wasn't all that subtle), but he doesn't move. You let your eyes roam over the wide expanse of his back, his shoulders. You can see tension cording the muscles in his neck.

You scrape your throat, trying to get his attention. One of the mechanical arms turns its head towards you, whirring. Its owner, on the other hand, keeps his gaze resolutely on his work.

The last time you spoke to each other, the conversation hadn't ended that well. You, repeating your undying love for your husband. Him, stating he's a villainous monster and warning you to stay away from him. All very dramatic, you think. And utter bull (on his part, not yours).

You cough loudly, all subtlety out of the (now broken) window. Patience is a virtue, but one you're never been blessed with. No reaction. He's ignoring you then. You sigh, two can play at this game.

"When's the last time he's eaten?"

"Pardon-", Otto looks up.

"Not talking to you," you say dismissively, keeping eye contact with one of his red blinking appendages.

"Has he eaten anything today? Twice's no, once's yes."

The adressed claw clicks twice, moving itself as if shaking no.

Otto gives the affronting arm a betrayed look. You continue your line of questioning, relentless.

"Jeesus, okay. So yesterday then?" Click. Yes. "Evening?" Click-click. No. "Morning?!" Click. Yes.

"When's the last time he shower- you know what? Nevermind. Don't want to know."

You turn to Otto, hands on your hips.

"Okay, so you're gonna shower or bathe or whatever you do now that doesn't fry your circuits," you say waving your hands vaguely at his harness. Your tone barters no objection. "And for heaven's sake, dress yourself, Otto, it's bloody freezing in here. You'll catch a cold, you know," you state matter-of-factly.

You look around in the general direction of the kitchen. You frown at the barren countertops.

"I take it the kitchen isn't stocked?"

"Well, I, uh," he sputters eloquently, not expecting the question.

"Instant noodles do not count."

He shakes his head, perplexed at how his evening is turning out.

"Well, I'm going to the store and get us some basics at least. I'll whip up dinner, probably will be ready in an hour or so.

"And Otto?"

"Yes, dear?" The term of endearment slips out before he can catch it, a habit.

"Leave the bloody door unlocked, will you? I would hate to smash another window trying to get in."

"Breaking in, you mean."

"Eh, semantics," you shrug with an easy grin. You give him a quick peck on the cheek before walking off towards the exit of the lair.

He's left there standing, with his hand lingering over the spot you kissed, absolutely confused by the casual way you just walzed into his life again.

He thought, after your last argument, that he would never see you again.

---

An hour or so later, Otto emerges from the bathroom, this time fully dressed.

The comforting smell of a homecooked meal surrounds him. The familiar domesticity of it is suddenly overwhelming. He can feel his eyes start to water. He didn't think he would be able to have this again, after everything. Especially with you.

Wiping at his eyes, he takes a moment to gather himself before entering the kitchen. For a man of his stature, even with four metal contraptions attached to him, he can be very quiet if he wants to be. This grants him a few moments to observe you unnoticed.

Bags of groceries have already been unpacked. There's a basket of fresh fruit on the counter, next to a little basil plant.

You're quite at ease in the unfamiliar kitchen, humming softly while stirring pots and pans he didn't know he even possessed.

While finally draining the pasta, you turn which causes your elbow to knock a glass off the counter. You curse, but before it crashes to the ground, one metal arms shoots out, just in time, to catch it.

If the sudden appearance of the appendages startled you, you don't show it.

"Oh, thank you, you lovely thing," you coo at the arm, gently petting its claws. A pleasant tingle travels up Otto's spine at the touch.

Finally noticing him, you turn and smile. "Come sit," you say, gesturing towards the kitchen table, "Dinner's getting cold."

---

Its a comforting routine, you washing up and him drying the dishes.

After putting the last plate away, he finally adresses you: "We need to talk."

You smile softly at him, sad. You humm before setting your jaw, ready to argue your point once again.

"You know I will not change my mind," you say.

"No, I didn't think you would." He huffs out a laugh, but there's no humour in it. "You always were stubborn."

"Learned from the best." You retort playfully. He grimaces, your attempt at banter falls flat.

"How lovely this evening has been, we cant just carry on like before."

"Why not?"

"I'm a criminal now, a monster."

"Otto, you're not a-"

"What would you call these monsterous things then?" He gestures his hands accusingly to his harnass, to the metal limbs attached to his spine. "Is this the husband you want to present to the world? This- this monster?"

You try to retort, to argue his point. He continues undeterred.

"What kind of life would I offer you, heh?What life would you have, chasing after a villain?"

"One with you, Otto."

"I murdered people," he continues, relentless. He needs you to see, to understand what he has become. "People who were trying to help me. Doctors and nurses. Good people."

"I know."

"Do you? Do you really?" He snarls.

"I know how the arms work. You seem to forget that I helped create these monsterous things, as you call them."

You take one of his claws between your hands, bringing it closer and brushing your lips against the cold metal.

"Those people were trying to detach them, weren't they? With the damage to your spine, it could have killed you. The arms were just acting out of instict. They were just trying to survive, Otto. You can't be held accountable for their actions while you were unconscious."

He scoffs: "Are you so sure about that?"

"I was in the lobby next to the operation room when it happened."

"You were- dear god. Were you- Did I hurt you?" His knees go weak, finally giving out. He ends up up on the floor, his face pressed into your stomach, reverently muttering apologies.

"You didn't- they didnt. They recognised me, Otto. Knew who I was- to you- to them. Once I commanded they stopped, they did. They brought you to safety."

You're stroking his face, tilting in upwards. You bow down and kiss him lightly on his brow.

"I regret the loss of life. I do, really. Those doctors didn't deserve it. But i cant help feeling grateful that you survived, Otto. Does that make me monsterous?"

"Of course it doesn't-"

You cut him off by placing a firm kiss on his lips.

"I love you, and I'm here to stay. You're not getting rid of me quite yet."

With the help of two arms, you get him back on his feet. You card one hand into his hair, the other on his back holding him close to you.

---

Later in bed, you're laying with your head on his padded shoulder.

"I always wanted to be a villains sidekick."

He huffs a laugh, still brittle, but a laugh none the less. You smile.

"What, you don't think I would look good in a spandex suit? "

"Now there's an image."

"Mmh, I would need a proper name, you know."

"What, is mine not horrible enough on its own?"

"Missus Ock?"

"Don't."

"What about Octo-woman?"

"Please stop."

"Octopussy?"

You're hit with a pillow.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x you #doc ock imagine #2nd person #no y/n #spiderman 2 #alfred molina my beloved #otto octavius #doc ock

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Okay soooo... lost my draft for my comte de reynaud fic. Which. Sucks.

Got a quick Otto octavius x reader fic instead for ya.

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A homemade meme for y’all

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Alfred Molina as Comte de Reynaud in Chocolat (2000) part. 2

Alfred Molina in every movie ( 10/? )

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feeding the comte de reynaud those aphrodisiac cacao nibs 🤭

the follow-up is on my twitter 🌶🔞

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Does anyone know the name of the housekeeper in Chocolat? I think her name is mentioned during a scene where the dear Comte denies himself a croissant(?).

#chocolat film #comte de reynaud imagine #comte de reynaud x reader #comte de reynaud #I have a shit connection at the moment and the movie won't load aaaaargh #madame something

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A rose by any other name (smells just as sweet)

Comte de Reynaud x reader

Chapter two: Aunt Armande

Before you can properly open the door, a small figure forces it open and barges in to the front room.

Knowing that purposeful stride from anywhere, you ask tentatively: "Tante?"

Without any proper introduction, welcome or a "Bonjour, how do you do", she spits at you with her usual venom: "Ah, finally she graces us with her presence. Got too much city airs to let your poor aunt know you've returned?"

You did not expect to see her here, right in front of you. You had hoped your arrival had stayed unnoticed.

Fumbling for an answer you replied eventually: "I did not know you would recognise me, ma tante!" A blatant lie, you just figured cousin Caroline would have dragged her off to le Mortuare by now. You had planned to visit her there, when you had time.

"You did not know if I still lived here, did you? I am old, not senile. You were always a shit liar" - you tried to deny her former statement but- "Ne mente pas, I can see it in your eyes." Her face softens a bit: "Now come here, silly girl."

With surprising force the woman pulled you down to her level and wrapped her arms around you. You hugged the woman, who, you realised, was so much smaller than you remembered. Tears gathered in your eyes; you did not know you had been missed in this small town.

Releasing you from the firm hug, both of you rapidly blinking away any moisture in your eyes, she reached over suddenly to tug your ear. You remembered the sensation just like it was yesterday. Boy did that take you back to getting reprimanded after some prank or badly planned exploit when you were a mischievous child. "Seven years! No letter, no telegram, no nothing! Let me take a good look at you at least."

She took your chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned your face towards her critical eyes. She harrumphed: "Ah, face just like your mother. Lucky for you, you didn't take after ton père. Your father made even an ogre look handsome."

"Acted like an ogre though," you replied earnestly.

She snorted. "That he did, child."

She promptly looked from your front room into the kitchen. "I suppose you have nothing to feed me yet, since you arrived only this morning. I'll make us dinner, then we can catch up, eh? Only because you're my favourite niece though."

"I'm your only niece, aunt Armande."

"Quite right and don't you forget it."

#comte de reynaud imagine #comte de reynaud #chocolat (2000) #chocolat film #alfred molina my beloved #a rose by any other name (would smell just as sweet) #comte de reynaud x reader

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A rose by any other name (would smell as sweet)

Comte Reynaud x reader

Chapter one: A new arrival in town

You arrived on an unusual hot day by train in Alise-Saint-Reine. After living in Paris, to call this place a town was generous, but it was the closest thing to it for miles. It had a train station to boast about, which the nearby villages did not.

You were not completely unfamiliar with the town, having visited it once, on your way to Paris, what felt like a lifetime ago.

You had bought a one way ticket then, thinking you would never return. Ha, here you were again.

Standing at the railway house, you looked pensively at your used train billet. Once again it was a one way ticket. From Paris back again to the middle-of-nowhere: Lansquenet-sous-Tannes.

The station was, apart from the clerq at the desk, completely desserted. Checking the road, you realised that getting a taxi in this place was an exercise in futility, as there were none. You had to make the journey to your hometown on foot.

It would be a two hour walk to the village. At least. Thank heavens you decided to wear sensible shoes that day, you hauled your luggage up over your shoulder and put one foot in front of to the other.

Eventually, you could spot the top of the belltower of the church in the distance.

Not long after, the dirt roads changed into familiar cobblestones, and a delabitated sign announced you had arrived in Lansquenet-sous-Tannes.

Navigating the same old streets, you reached a colourless house with the colourful roses climbing the front wall. It was house you knew intimately. You received some strange looks, but kept your head down in avoidance.

Trying the unlock the door - on which the lock had remained unchanged - was a chore. The wood fitted akwardly in the doorframe, so opening it required hard labor. Once it gave in, you were rewarded with the sight of the front room of what was to be your new (old) residence. Not wanting to attract curious stares or -god forbid- inquiries about your prescence, you didn't dally on the front step and shut the door.

You walked through the house, assessing its state. It was dusty, mind you, and furniture was sparse, but overall it was in a surprisingly good condition. Some dusting and washing certainly, but no big home renovations.

After surveying the house, you took a deep breath, which was a mistake because of the dust, sneezed and set to work.

Surprisingly, by late afternoon, you had eradicated the small house of all its dust. Not a speck could be seen. Apart from the windows, which would need a good washing tomorrow, your old house was presentable once more.

Unpacking your things, you did not have long to bask in your newly cleaned space, as you were interrupted by loud banging on the front door.

A familiar voice hollered your name from behind it. You smiled. Aunt Armande. Your arrival had not remained a secret for long. Word traveled fast in slow towns like this. You smiled ruefully, some things never change.

#comte de reynaud #comte de reynaud x reader #comte de reynaud imagine #chocolat (2000) #alfred molina my beloved