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writerscurse · 2 years

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In the Eye of the Storm | Aemond Targaryen x reader | Chapter 4

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Word count: 3,501

Summary: You’re visiting King’s Landing with your family to reaffirm your younger brother Lucerys’ birthright as the rightful heir to Driftmark. During your stay, you reconnect with Aemond Targaryen. You had once been friends, but that was long ago. And the man in front of you now, is not the shy kid you used to know. Can you reconcile despite your differences or will the rift between your families break you apart?

Warnings/tags: Incest (it’s the Targaryens), slow burn, fluff, angst, violence, death, smut

All works are my own. Please don’t copy, plagiarize, post on other websites or translate.

The flight to King’s Landing was smooth. Aemond made sure to fly high enough so you were above the storm, the cold air burning on your skin. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you were glad about Aemond’s presence, heat seemingly radiating from him to comfort your freezing body.

Aemond effortlessly jumped off Vhagar as soon as you had landed at the Dragonpit. Everything around you felt so familiar, yet so foreign. The ruins of the arena that once lied upon the Dragonpit made your surroundings seem even more dreary. Aemond held up his arms, encouraging you to come down. You sighed and elegantly slid off the dragon’s back.

Aemond lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his arms drop to his sides.

‘You forgot I am a dragonrider myself’, you tell him, staring him dead in the eye. Anger still boiled inside you, making you feel conflicted any time you caught a glimpse of the prince in front of you. For once, his aura lacked the usual arrogance. He looked almost vulnerable as he stood there, pain lacing his eye.

‘I am sorry for how things went down at Storm’s End’, he finally muttered. You decided then and there that you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew that Aemond had a difficult upbringing and you truly felt sorry for everything he had to endure. You hated that Luke took his eye, adding to all the misery in his life. But Aemond had just tried to mutilate your brother and you couldn’t simply ignore that.

‘You are sorry?’, you huffed, ‘well, how about you make up for your actions then and let me go home?’

‘You know I can’t do that’, he avoided the angry look on your face, staring at the ground, sounding unusually small when he spoke.

‘Why not? Nobody has seen me yet. You can simply claim that your mission was successful. I will find my way back to Dragonstone without your help’, you urged him, moving closer to him.

‘I don’t want you to go’, Aemond admitted, still refusing to look at you.

You let out a deep sigh, recognising the same conflicted feelings in his voice that you were pushing down yourself. ‘So you’re holding me prisoner?’, you asked, not wanting to back down yet. All you ever wanted was to be by his side, but not under these circumstances.

‘No. I would never do that to you’, he sighed, finally looking up at you, ‘I was thinking about your mother’s proposal, to unite our families.’ The expression on his eyes was pleading, any mask of arrogance and hatred gone. This was a man begging you not to leave him.

‘Marriage. Is this why you brought me here? Aemond, your brother is a usurper. I don’t think uniting the families is an option anymore’, you suddenly felt really tired, not thinking that this conversation would go anywhere.

‘The war hasn’t begun yet. Neither side has taken action so far’, he tried to reason with you.

‘And what of your offer to wed one of Lord Borros’ daughters in return for his support?’, you asked, still not believing that this is what he really wanted.

‘Support that we only need if a war was to begin’, Aemond stated, stepping closer and resting his hands on your upper arms. You hated the way your body reacted to this, wanting to melt into his arms.

‘I don’t think your brother is interested in keeping the peace. He is already king. It’s in his best interest to murder my family and me’, now it was you looking at the ground, tears welling up in your eyes.

‘I would never let him harm you’, Aemond reassured you, his hands gently caressing your arms, giving you goosebumps, ‘Aegon hasn’t got the faintest interest in politics. My mother, however, is interested in keeping the peace. I am sure that she would endorse such a union between our families, given the right circumstances.’

‘The circumstances being my mother renouncing the crown’, you muttered. Aemonds silence spoke more than words could have ever done. ‘She would agree with your mother, you know. Before I left for Storm’s End, mother was considering Lord Hightower’s offer, just to avoid a war and keep the realm at peace’, you looked back up at Aemond and saw a shimmer of hope on his face.

‘Then let me take you to the Red Keep’, he pleaded, ‘I do not know how my family will react. But I promise that I will keep you safe. Nothing will happen to you on my watch.’ And with that, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a gentle kiss on your head as you gave in and wrapped your arms around his waist. You were scared of what was about to happen, but being in Aemond’s arms was all that you needed for the moment.

After you had finally let go of each other, both of you made your way to the Red Keep, whispers following you wherever you went. You knew that you were considered an outsider here now. The line of succession had changed and your standing was no longer what it once used to be. Aemond sent the guards to request an audience with Aegon and Alicent and you swallowed hard, nervous at the prospect of this turning sour.

You didn’t know that Aemond was watching you until you suddenly felt his hand gripping yours. You looked up at him and a gentle smile spread on his lips. This might have just been the first genuine smile on his face that you had seen since you were children. Giving you a slight nod, he encouraged you to keep walking with him, never letting go of your hand.

‘Prince Aemond Targaryen and Princess Y/N Velaryon’, the guard announced while you entered the throne room.

Aegon was sitting on the throne, a crown on his head and a pleased smirk on his face when he leaned forward, curious about the story his brother had to tell. Alicent stood beside him with a blank expression, as she kept looking at you.

Once you had reached the end of the throne room, Aemond let go of your hand, bowing before his brother, ‘Your grace, brother, I come bearing good news. Lord Borros Baratheon has agreed to our offer. He supports your claim to the throne.’

‘And you come bearing a gift’, Aegon nodded towards you. Hatred started boiling inside you, as you rigidly bowed before him.

‘Ah yes’, Aemond moved back to stand by your side, ‘Princess Y/N and her brother Lucerys arrived at Storm’s End after I had notified Lord Baratheon of our proposal. They intended to do the same, but Lord Borros had already picked his side and sent them away. I could not hold them all hostage, Lucerys and both their dragons managed to flee. But I did get a hold of the princess and decided to bring her with me.’

You could not believe how effortlessly he lied. You knew the plan was to discuss the marriage proposal with his mother first or take it straight to the war council, but hearing these words fall from his lips was painful nonetheless.

‘Great choice, brother’, Aegon laughed, jumping up from his throne. ‘I’ve grown tired of Helaena lately, she has finally lost all touch with reality. Maybe it is time for me to take a second wife’, he smiled sickly at you while coming closer. Just as he was about to reach out and grab your chin, you felt Aemond gently pulling you behind him. He pushed himself between you and his brother, a menacing glow covering on his face.

‘Don’t you dare touch her’, he growled, looking down at his older brother. Your heart was racing, this was not the turn of events you had expected. You were worried about getting murdered, not becoming the false king’s whore.

‘Gods, you have feelings for her, don’t you?’, Aegon grinned at the tall prince before him, ‘You didn’t think you’d ever have a chance with her, did you?’

You felt Aemond’s body tense up at this and placed a hand on his lower back, letting him know you were right beside him. ‘You have sullied enough women in this damn place. I will not let you have her, too’, he hissed.

‘Do you see that mother?’, Aegon turned around to face Queen Alicent. ‘Your crippled son is in love! He loves our enemy’, he continued to laugh.

That’s when Aemond snapped. Within seconds he had jumped his brother from behind, pushing him to the ground while his fist collided with Aegon’s face. Just as he was about to swing again, his brother managed to free one of his arms, pulling Aemond down harshly towards the ground, landing a blow on his younger brother’s chin.

The queen was screaming at them to stop and you took a step forward, wanting to do something about the situation, but the guards were quicker than you. They broke up the brothers, keeping a strong grip on Aemond until the queen told them to let him go and asked her son to leave her and Aegon alone. She decided to delay the matter of deciding what to do and it was to be discussed in the war council later that day.

Aemond broke free from the guards, straightening his cloak, before he walked up to you. Putting a hand on your back, he guided you through the corridors of the Red Keep, two guards following you the whole time. You knew the paths he was taking so when Aemond opened the doors and told the guards to stay outside, you were not surprised to find yourself in his chambers.

You immediately turned to face him, making sure he was okay after the fight with his brother. But before you could say anything, he silenced you.

‘I know you won’t like what I am about to say, but please let me speak first’, he requested while walking closer to you. You felt your heart drop, but nodded quietly, wanting to give him a chance at least.

‘You’re well aware that these are my chambers. I have two guards posted outside the doors. You are to stay here while I attend the war council. You will not be allowed to leave this room until an agreement has been reached on how to treat this situation’, he explained to you and stopped right in front of you. He didn’t try to hug or touch you and you were grateful for the respect he was showing you.

‘So I am your prisoner after all’, you exhaled, staring at your feet.

‘No. Y/N, please look at me’, he gently placed his fingers below your chin, forcing you to look at him, ‘I am not doing this to lock you up. I want to keep you safe. After what my brother just said, I can’t have you roam this castle until I know for certain that he can’t have you. I just want to protect you.’ He rested his other hand on your hip, keeping you close.

You couldn’t take it any more, as soon as he stopped talking, you leaned into him, crashing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You poured all your emotions into it. All the anger you had been feeling, all your love for this man that infuriated you so much. You just needed to feel him. You needed to know that he was yours and you needed him to know that you were his. You brought both your hands up to his face, keeping him in place while you slightly opened your mouth. His tongue slipped through your lips right away and your breathing grew quicker as you let out a relieved gasp. You continued to stand on your toes, leaning your forehead against his, not wanting to break the closeness.

‘I did not expect this’, he admits, chuckling lightly. There it was again, that sound that made your stomach twist in the best way possible. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’, he asked, opening his eyes. The reflections of the light on the sapphire almost took your breath away.

‘Oh Aemond’, you laughed, pulling back slightly so you could get a better look of his face, ‘it’s always been you. I hate that you make me angry, you make me feel confused. I want to defend my family. But I also want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I just couldn’t take it any longer. I had to show you how I felt about you.’ You looked into his eye, worried that you would scare him away.

‘After everything I have done. And you still desire me’, he sounded astonished, almost scared that you would suddenly deny him.

‘I could never hate you, my dear Aemond’, you admitted, ‘I will always protect my family with everything I have. But I’ve come to realise that I just can’t hate you, as frustrating as that can be.’ You shook your head in disbelief, while smiling at him.

‘Oh Y/N, I don’t deserve you’, he exhaled, a flicker of sadness was visible in his eye. ‘My brother is right, I am nothing but a cripple. You are so beautiful, you should find someone that is worthy of your love’, he averted your gaze, turning his head away, so you couldn’t see his eye anymore.

You realised that he had finally fully opened up to you. He was sharing his insecurities with you and with every passing minute he became more like that kind boy you fell in love with so many years ago. A sad smile spread on your lips, understanding how much he had been suffering all those years.

Careful not to scare him away, you reached up to his face, gently caressing the scar that stretched across it. He flinched under your touch and you felt bad. ‘Does it hurt?’, you asked, wanting to make sure that you didn’t cause him any pain. He faintly shook his head, refusing to look at you.

When you had the certainty you needed, that you would not hurt him, you brought your hand back down to his face, your thumb running over his scar until you reached his sapphire eye. You kept your finger right below it for a moment, marvelling at how it reflected the light from the candles that lit up the room. Then slowly, you moved your fingers away and stood back on your toes, placing a small kiss on Aemond’s scar, right below his eye. You felt him inhale sharply, but you refused to pull back.

‘You’re so beautiful, Aemond. I refuse to believe anything else’, you whispered, staying close to him. He slowly turned his head back to you, so he could look into your eyes. His face was soft, a faint smile on his lips as he stared at you with a sad eye. You brought your hands back up to cup his cheek and placed another soft kiss on his mouth. ‘I will always desire you’, you breathed.

Before he could react, showing you how grateful he was to have you in his arms, a knock on the door interrupted you. With an apologetic look on his face, he pulled back, telling the person to come in.

It was a guard, announcing that the war council was about to begin and Aemond was expected to join. He turned back to you, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a kiss on them.

‘It’s time for me to share our proposal, my love. I will come back to you as soon as I can’, he promised and walked towards the door.

Before he could exit his chambers, the guard spoke up again, ‘My prince, I don’t mean to impose but in the past you have refused to attend council meetings without covering your eye. I do not wish for…’ Aemond lifted his finger, motioning for him to be quiet.

‘No. No more’, he simply responded and waved his hand, motioning for the guard to walk towards the door. Before leaving the room, he looked back at you once more, a loving smile covering his face.

And with that you were alone. You inhaled deeply, trying to process everything that had happened today. Staring through the window at the lights of the city, memories flooded your brain. Memories of a distant childhood here at the Keep. So much had happened since then. You wondered what your family was doing right now. Were they plotting their revenge? You hoped that the Green council would reach an agreement, before your family decided to act.

You couldn’t tell how long you had been sitting by the window. It must have been late at night when the door suddenly opened and Aemond appeared. You jumped up from your seat immediately and were about to run to him when Alicent entered the room.

Aemond stayed besides the door, giving his mother space, but keeping an eye on you nevertheless.

‘My queen’, you said, politely bowing before her.

‘Princess Y/N, I’m pleased to say that Aemond has brought a rather intriguing proposal to our council meeting tonight. A marriage to unite your family and ours once more, an offer that could prevent the realm from descending into war. I have decided to accept your proposal under certain conditions’, she calmly spoke.

‘What are your conditions, your grace?’, you asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

‘The House of the Dragon can only stand united with one ruler. Your mother must renounce the crown and swear her loyalty to my son, King Aegon. I have come to inform you that a raven is to be sent to Dragonstone informing Princess Rhaenyra of your current location at the Red Keep and of the marriage proposal between you and Aemond’, the queen continued and you nodded.

‘I cannot speak for my mother, but I am pleased to hear that you are considering our proposal. Please, may I ask for some words from me to be included in the message to my mother?’, you wanted to make sure that your mother knew that you were willingly giving yourself to Aemond.

When the queen nodded, you continued, ‘I want her to know that I am ready to repair the rift that has separated our two families and protect the realm from the dire consequences of this conflict. Please do use those exact terms, if you can.’ This was what you had told your mother when she first proposed this marriage and you hoped that she would understand this message coming from you.

‘Very well’, Queen Alicent agreed, ‘I will prepare the message right away. Until we receive a response, you are to stay in these chambers. I am sure Aemond has informed you that this is for your own safety.’

‘Yes, your grace’, you nodded, shooting Aemond a quick glance. Having discussed everything that was needed, the queen excused herself and retired to her chambers for the night.

After he closed the door behind her, Aemond made his way over to you, pulling you into his embrace.

‘You did so well’, he murmured, his head buried in your hair.

‘Mmmh’, you simply hummed, suddenly feeling very tired. A yawn escaped your mouth as you rested your head against Aemond’s chest.

‘You need to sleep’, he noted. Taking your hand in his, he guided you towards his bed.

‘I apologise for not being able to offer you your own chambers. It is merely that I do not trust the guards now that Aegon is king. He has every right to send them away, if he wishes to be with you’, sadness crossed his eye, he felt bad for not being able to do better for you.

You gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I understand, Aemond. It’s been an eventful day, we should rest’, you said, sitting down on the prince’s bed, still holding his hand.

‘I will give you some privacy’, he muttered, flustered at the sight of you in his bed. He tried to walk away, but you tightened your grip on his hand.

‘Please stay’, you whispered, looking up at him.

‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable’, he breathed, a worried expression visible on his face. You simply pulled him towards the bed as you slipped under the sheets and made some room for him.

You watched Aemond kick off his heavy boots before he climbed into bed with you. Just when he wanted to open his mouth again, voicing yet more of his concerns, you moved closer to him and rested your head on his chest, your arm wrapped around his hip.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you felt his arms slowly embracing you and pulling you into him even more.

‘I could get used to this’, you hummed and drifted off into a peaceful sleep, barely noticing Aemond brushing his fingers through your hair anymore.

Go to Chapter 5.

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#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x female reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fic #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #ewan mitchell #hotd fanfic

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shining-gem34 · 9 months

Note

❛ why can’t you just let it go? ❜ // IL @ dh

Angsty Question Prompts !! Accepted for @etherealguard

||Companion Quest to this blog.

"Why can't you just let it go?"

"What do you mean, Yinyue Jun?" Dan Heng asks coldly, turning around to meet the High Elder's stoic gaze.

The question leaves him confused, annoyed, and irked- all packed into a bundle of spite swirling in his chest. He's not sure what prompted Yinyue Jun to ask this. Why was he even asking this at all?

Is this another mind game of his? Was he baiting him to see a reaction? Or was he trying to confuse him with the question(s)?

Because Dan Heng knows exactly what the High Elder is referring to. Yet like always, he refuses to acknowledge it.

Yinyue Jun remains impassive. His tail sways lightly behind him before it stops and he responds, "Do you remember my words, Dan Heng?"

☛ You are not weak. I know you are not. Because you are not me. ☚

"No matter what anyone says otherwise: My sins are not yours to bear." Yinyue Jun explains, staring straight at his incarnation. "You are free."

Outside past the door, the skies start to rumble. A drop of water hitting the ground summons a storm. The heavy rain drowns out the sound of Dan Heng's blood rushing to his head. Fury blooms within his chest, its red petals curling hideously around his heart like spider lilies.

"Free?" Dan Heng repeats, fingers curling tightly into a fist. His shoulders trembling with thinly veiled rage, "How dare you, Dan Feng? How dare you presume I am free when your past chases me like a shadow?"

Lightning flashes between the clouds, striking the ground as quickly as Dan Heng's temper.

"I am not free, Dan Feng." The guard states coldly, shoulders sagging, and he shakes his head. "So please don't ever say I am free when clearly I am not."

For once in a long time, Dan Heng feels tired of everything. He wants to be alone, praying for Yinyue Jun to get the hint and leave him be.

Like always, the High Elder refuses to respect his wishes.

Yinyue Jun rises from his seat and approaches him. His incarnation takes a step back, but no more, and turns his head away. He stiffly raises his hand to touch Dan Heng's cheek. The young man flinches from the contact, but he remains resolute in avoiding him.

"Sooner or later, you'll understand the meaning behind my words." Yinyue Jun sighs wearily, but a faint smile breaks his stoic mask. "When that time comes, you'll be liberated from the chains that shackled you."

Dan Heng snaps his head up and asks, "What do you-"

"It's time to wake up, my pearl."

Then in a flash, Dan Heng is gone from the dream leaving Yinyue Jun alone in this room.

He returns to his seat and closes his eyes to meditate. Perhaps, this will give Dan Heng time to ponder over his words. The young man will need to find the answers on his own at his own pace.

The High Elder opens his eyes to stare at the floating feather on the shelf. A beautiful turquoise plume from the tail of the eastern dragon that commands the winds. Another unrelated artifact with a deep significance to those who understand it.

As if a gentle breeze tickles his ears, Yinyue Jun can hear a whisper in the wind.

"What does freedom really mean when demanded of you by a god?"

Outside, the heavy rain slows down to a light sprinkle. Soon enough, the winds blow the clouds away revealing the beautiful full moon once more.

#jade answers (a ask)#the guard of the express (dan heng)#cold dragon young (general/casual)#etheralguard #hidden dragon (angst/serious/gore)#jade writes (drabbles)#||Ngl my mind went blank on this cause I was trying to remember what came to mind when I saw this ask #||It went a little off the path I itnended #||Also channeling my genshin into this aka venti.#||I love venti #||HOPE THIS IS SATISFACTORY

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r0-boat · 2 months

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@anaoryx commission for an OC X Canon

Thank you so much for commissioning me and I hope you enjoy this and thank you for being so patient!!

OC Zoey x Alec in...

We will be reunited

Sfw cut for length

Zoey begged and pleaded for Kamado to open the gates to the village.

He stood on the watchtower, arms crossed, glaring down at her as she tried to explain what she had been through. Holding up the red chain in her hands. With this material, she needs better tools to craft a poké Ball with, and only one person can do so.

On the other side, Alec, a friend she had known for a long time now, someone very dear to her. Heard her voice from the other side of the wall. Alec, His heart pounding hearing that familiar voice, looked up at his boss.

Alec knew Zoey's innocence, And she was only trying to help the village even now. But Kamado did not trust her; since she did not belong here, he thought that she was the sole cause of not only the time-space distortions, but the reason why the pokémon were going crazy.

Somehow, She got through to him.

"Open the gates!" His voice booms, ordering the galactic members to turn the cranks. The wooden gate creaks as it opens. His eyes widened at Kamado's decision. He wanted to run towards Zoey and tackle her in a hug. But Kamado had already separated the two as the red-haired heroine approached.

The red chain in her hand, she presented it to Kamado.

"Please, there's a way to fix this, Commander-!" Zoey sounded weak and tired; she hadn't had a good night's sleep in so long.

"Do not call me Commander outsider."

Zoey knew Kamado's disdain for her, but it still hurt after everything she did. She saw the town as a family!

Kamado glanced back, glaring at Alec. Alec, not wanting to make an enemy of the commander, stood down. He knew that Zoey wouldn't want him to get in trouble, even though it hurt him to see her like this. She was being treated like a dangerous animal rather than a human being.

Zoey took a while to speak; She was shaking, whether it be from rage or being scared, Alec could tell.

"Com-Kamado, I need to see Professor Laventon; I need him to turn this red chain into a Pokeball. Please, He's the only one who can do this."

Kamado snatches the red chain from her hand. "I will give this to him. It will be done by tomorrow, but you are not allowed in the village. I'll find someone to hand it over to you, and you will get out of my sight. Is that clear?"

Zoey stayed silent, only nodding her head.

With that, Kamado leaves, signaling the people to close the gates. The last thing she saw was Alec with a look of worry on his face. As the gates close behind her, Kamado drags the red chain to the ground, demanding Alec to his side.

Zoey slept in the forest just outside the village. She still had some supplies for camping out after just a tent. She was stoking the makeshift fire. Flygon was by her side. She had noticed the sadness of her dear trainer and rubbed against her to comfort her.

Zoey smiled, patting the dragon-type pokémon on the head. Flygon trilled at the attention, licking her trainer's cheek. Zoey giggled, wrapping her arms around her pokémon partner.

"Thank you for cheering me up, bud. I'm okay. I just want this all to be over."

Flygon chirped in agreement.

Suddenly, her head perked up, hearing The bushes that surrounded their humble camp rushling. Flygon, ready to protect her friend, bears her teeth snarling at the unknown sound. A Braviary hopped out of the bushes, playfully tackling the ground-type pokémon to the ground. Flygon, with a sniff, immediately knew who it was growling happily, her tail thumping the ground. Zoey noticed her pokémon's reaction confused because, to her knowledge, they'd never met this pokémon before.

"Braviary! Come back!" A familiar voice!

Appearing out from the bushes was a person, brandishing his Zoroark mask.

Zoey immediately knew that mask. Before Alec could even take off the mask, Zoey tackled him. The masked man let out a laugh, holding Zoey in his arms. "I knew you'd be here!"

She carefully held the wooden Zoroark mask, lifting it, uncovering his face. It has been so long since she had seen those eyes. Shimmering purple.

"How did you find me? I thought the gates to the village closed." Zoey asked.

Alec smiled and nodded his head over at his newly evolved bird pokémon.

"So Rufflet evolved! I almost didn't recognize him; He was so small and cute before. Now look at him!" Zoey gushed at Braviary, who was now play-wrestling with Flygon. To the dragon pokémon's surprise, the bird pokémon had gotten significantly stronger now and was putting up a good fight.

"I'm sorry, Zoey, I should have been with you," Alec said.

Without Zoey, The village is quiet, almost dead. Professor Laventon, Rei, and Akari were worried sick; not just them but everyone in Team Galaxy was concerned. Nearly questioning the commander's decisions because of how much she helped them. But, of course, Commander Kamado banned anyone from speaking about Zoey. If anyone were to speak anything about her and her weird green dragon bug, their job would be on the line.

However, unbeknownst to Alec, since Zoey's banishment, no one has changed more than Alec himself; he would always stare off into space whenever the commander was not around, and the only thing that would come out of his mouth was Zoey 'Was she okay? Where is she? Can I find her?' And they can't blame him. Their feelings for each other were very noticeable. Kamado especially knew how attached he was to Zoey, so he kept an extra eye on him.

Zoey shook her head. "No, Alec, I wanted you to stay. I needed you to protect the village. Since that day when the sky got weird, pokémon have been acting more violent; I've seen it for myself!"

Zoey had been okay with the help of Cogita and Volo, as well as behind the scenes help from Iridia, Adaman, and Cyllene. She was OK. But of course, every day for the last couple of months, she missed Alec terribly. Oh, how she wanted to fly back to the village, scream at Kamado, and run back into Alec's arms.

Hearing that Zoey needed him made his heart flutter; as much as he was so worried about her, he trusted her. "So…what have you been doing? Everyone else in the Galaxy Team has been worried sick."

The red-haired trainer had no idea where to start! With the riddles and the lake trio. The violent alpha guardian standing in her way. And the more frequent time-space portals.

But now that she finally had someone to talk to!

"There's a way to fix this!" Zoey said with a bright smile.

But when Alec gave her a happy yet confused look. Zoey giggled, apologized, and started from the beginning.

Alec, in awe, listened when Zoey told him about the red chain, as foretold in ancient scriptures about its power to control The God Almighty Sinnoh.

The spirits of the lake, and they're puzzling riddles with their alpha guardians protecting them.

How the God Sinnoh was neither Palkia or Dialga, as they spoke and announced themselves in the heads of the two clan leaders. That shocked Alec the most. If the Lord of Space and the Lord of Time weren't Almighty Sinnoh, then who was?! When was it possible Almighty Sinnoh was something even higher than them, a god that even those two must answer to?

This was all…a lot, and Zoey was doing this all alone…

A thought that Alec could not stand.

While Zoey was risking her life for all of Hisui, Alec was under house arrest.

Alec, or any of The Galaxy team that were on Zoey's side, couldn't go on excursions out of fear that they would try to reach out to her or find her…and all for what? The Commander's ego?

Alec grabbed Zoey's hands, making the trainer flush.

"Take me with you…tomorrow when you get that red chain Pokeball. Please take me with you!"

To distort what the commander says or what the commander does to him, being by her side was all that mattered. Doing what was right and saving the world was all that mattered! Zoey was more important to him than the skewed code of honor and ethics that the commander followed.

Zoey stared into Alec's determined eyes; she did not want Alec to lose his position in the Galaxy team. But, She didn't want to be alone again. And now that she is sure that she had found a way to stop this and save all of Hisui. She needed all the help she could get!

Zoey's pondering face turned into a confident one; that confident smile he fell in love with.

Alec smiled, letting go of her hands. He crawled out of her tent.

"All right, I have to go home- I'll meet you here tomorrow try and get some-"

"W-wait!” Zoey shouted, cutting him off. Her cheeks burned red, summoning the courage to ask him as Alec stood there waiting for her to respond.

"C-can you stay? J-just for the night, I mean."

Alec inhaled, his heart beating thumping fast, hard in his chest, His eyes widening. How could he say no? He would be a fool if he did!

Without a word, he crawled back into the tent, and the two stayed together that night.

The morning came upon the pair slowly.

The two could not sleep last night. All they did was talk- Small talk, silly things- Anything to distract them from the looming threat of facing whatever lies beyond. All they had to do was summon the red chain and stand face-to-face to whatever lies beyond. It could be Almighty Sinnoh…or it could be something else, something far beyond their imaginations.

But one thing was sure: they were going to do it together.

Packing up camp silently, they headed back to the village only for Laventon to come running out of the giant wooden gates as they loudly creaked open.

The professor was a wreck, eye bags with no sleep, possibly for working on the origin ball with the red chain bunched up in his hand. He yelled out, looking for Alec.

And when he saw Zoey, his eyes widened in disbelief

"ALEC!" The professor screamed before smiling at Zoey ."Good morning. He's-"

"Have you seen Commander Kamado?!"

Alec shook his head. "I've been with Zoey all night."

Laventon gave him a concerned look before continuing, "I was looking for the Commander to deliver the red chain and the ball to you, Zoey! Commander Kamado never leaves his office, but to my surprise,e I couldn't find him anywhere, and when I tried to ask, the Galaxy team would not give me a straight answer…"

The two trainers just looked at each other. Zoey broke the silence.

"You don't think…"

Their answer was confirmed when a galaxy member rushed up to the three, out of breath. "Sorry, the commander threatened us not to tell you, but He made a rant about taking matters into his own hands, and when we asked him, he told us that he was going to deal with the threat by himself without in his words 'Zoey's stupid rocks'"

Her eyes widened, putting her palms into her hands. "Over the love of…The commander doesn't know what he's doing. He's going to get himself killed!"

There was no time to waste; Laventon put the ball and the red chain in Zoey's hands. "Talk to Cyllene before you leave. She wanted to see you soon after Kamado rushed out."

They walked to the village. The village people stared at Zoey as they made their way to the Galaxy building. Cyllene at her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she sees the red-haired trainer, she turns her chair. Zoey could almost make out the faintest hint of a smile. Before the lady sighs, "After what you've been through, we have no right to ask you for help again, but please—kicking you out was not a unanimous decision. But please, the commander was a fool. Go up there and stop that idiot from riling up whatever the hell you saw." Her voice shook. Cyllene normally was a calm woman, but now, as our colleague and boss makes a rash decision, potentially getting himself and everyone else killed, She could not stay calm.

Even though the past few months have been hell, she lived out in the ancient retreat alone. Zoey could not abandon those in danger even though they treated her like outsiders. She loved the Pokémon and the villagers she had made friends with.

"I'll do it, Captain Cyllene."

The Captain smiled. She knew Kamado would blow his top over her decision, but she'd handle him. She was sure the stubborn commander would change his mind. I ife red-haired outsider saved his life.

#ro.commission #oc x cannon #commission #pokemon x oc #alec x zoey #pokemon alec #pokémon hisuian snow #hisuian snow #pokemon legends #pokemon legends arceus

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thesorcererspen · 1 year

Text

God of Judgment

@flashfictionfridayofficial FFF190 "Trapped in the Dark"

The prompt inspired another scene snippet for Dragon Slayers. I am still in the planning phase of this novel, but writing snippets for scene ideas has been fun!

The throne hall was dark and murky, lit only by the glimmering glow of magical torches that glistened and danced on walls and pillars. Shadows flickered around the massive columns and arches, casting long, menacing shapes across the floor. There were no windows to lighten the gloom. A heavy scent of dampness and decay hung thickly over everything. An old, cold chill had seeped into the very stones of the place, freezing the air in its wake. It clung like a shroud, covering every inch with an icy blanket that threatened to suffocate any who dared step inside.

Casimir’s gaze drifted past the shadowed stone walls and up toward the ceiling, where an assortment of statues looked down upon him like nothing more than gargoyles. They were all clad in armor made from bone, each one clutching their weapons of choice: swords, daggers, or axes. Their heads were grotesque things, each one different and hideous – some horns curving outward, others protruding in strange angles. All bore the same expression of hatred, every last one of them. It was as though they'd been sculpted with a desire to strike fear into the hearts of those who came before them.

And it worked.

His stomach twisted up in knots. The air here reeked of death and despair. Every step sent icy fingers creeping over his skin and across his back, making him shiver. He wanted to turn around and run, but he'd promised himself not to do so. This was the only way he could save himself. He had to face this nightmare head-on and hoped it would be enough.

He felt Regimar's presence. The God of Fate stood at his side, his hands locked behind his back. His eyes were grim and unreadable. A drastic change from the god's whimsical nature. Now, he wore the mask of a man on a mission, one that carried more weight than his usual escapades. He stared straight ahead, his lips pressed together as if trying to keep something from spilling out.

Casimir turned to find himself facing a figure seated upon an ornate black throne. It was decorated with intricate carvings of runes and symbols that twinkled and shimmered as the torchlight caught them. The throne seemed to radiate a soft blue aura, but the darkness and shadows around him easily overpowered it. Still, even in the dim lighting, something was striking about the man who sat upon it.

He was towering and imposing, with facial features that were refined but also strong and masculine. His yellow eyes were piercing, like shards of ice, and each one was narrowed slightly, giving his gaze a predatory cast. His hair was white with silver undertones and cut into an angular fringe that swept over his forehead. He wore a long black coat that fell over his shoulders, covering the top half of his body, and the sleeves reached down almost to his wrists. Over his left shoulder, he bore a sword, its hilt wrapped in fine gold wire. On his right hip, he carried what looked like a curved dagger, its blade a gleaming red color. His leather boots were polished to a high shine, and his crimson pants were form-fitting. He lounged on the throne he sat upon in a way that made him seem bored or tired, even.

So, this is Sigmund Stein. The God of Judgment. He had to be centuries old, but to the human eye, he didn’t look a day over thirty-six.

Yet none of these details mattered. What did was the fact that the God of Judgment sat there, watching him with calm, unwavering eyes. He found himself feeling utterly defeated under that gaze. His body trembled under the weight of dread and doubt. Fear gripped his chest tightly, constricting his breathing. He knew that if he didn't fight this terror, then his mind might well give in completely, and he'd lose himself to madness.

"You're late," Sigmund said, and Casimir flinched at the sound of his voice. It was deep and rich, like the rumble of distant thunder.

It echoed, reverberating through the chamber like the roar of waves crashing against rocks on a shoreline. It was impossible for Casimir to ignore. All at once, he felt as though he was being pulled out of his own body and dragged straight into the god's presence.

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and parched.

Sigmund's eyes darted toward Regimar, his lips twisting into a snarl. "Why is he still alive?”

#writeblr #writing #writing community #fantasy books #flash fiction #writers on tumblr #writercommunity #writing snippet #writing wip #wip snippet

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mrs-gauche · 2 years

Photo

“I suppose I am just tired of fighting.”

#dragon age #solas #dai gifs #my gifs #sometimes I struggle to decide what footage to use because I managed to capture so many amazing shots <33 #imagine being some 8000 years old and having spent your entire life fighting for your people...#..only to end up losing them all because of your actions #look solas is o l d #and most of his life has been one battle after another #and now he will do it all over again #he's tired #I love this one line in the last chapter of tevinter nights before you get to the reveal #''The man in the dragon mask. He sounded tired.''#that's actually the point where you just know it's him #then you have his tone of voice in trespasser #even the way he visibly sighs in the latest teaser trailer #it's made very clear

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writtenbyjenn · 3 years

Text

I Win (Miraak x Mage!Dragonborn!Reader)

Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1344

“We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to fight!” Miraak and Y/N circled one another at the apex of Apocrypha.

“Herma-Mora is tricking you! Haven’t you heard the whispers of the seekers? The flutters in the pages?”

He fell silent for a moment. Then shook his head, as to him, it didn’t matter anyways. “There is no escape; I will take your soul and make one myself!”

“Listen,” Y/N pleaded.

“If you keep up this blasphemous talk, Hermaeus Mora will kill you himself,” Miraak said.

“His plan is to kill you. You have caused him too much trouble, Miraak. You know this.”

The pair continued circling one another, each deftly doging each other’s shouts and blows.

“How do you know about his plan? How do you even have a plan for escape?” No one in Apocrypha could know more than him. He had been there for so long.

“You see, but you refuse to listen! The walls speak, the seekers whisper… You wish to defy Herma-Mora? Escape without either of our lives being lost,” Y/N said, narrowly dodging a bout of flame.

“Impossible. Hermaeus Mora won’t allow it,”

“He can’t harm us here,” Y/N stood still and looked upwards. Miraak’s eyes followed. The sky had become dark… No, rather, Hermaeus Mora lay just beyond the arena. He couldn’t enter. There was… a barrier?

“He sees I intend to stop you, but not in the way he imagined,” Y/N’s weapon was at their side. It would be impossibly easy to strike now and end them, but Miraak was intrigued.

“You’re a mage? What spell can hold back a daedric prince as powerful as him?” Miraak looked curiously over at the dragonborn sitting in front of him.

“Your time here has made you arrogant… There is always more to learn. And Apocrypha is the holder of all knowledge. I simply asked, and the walls opened for me, leading me to the spell I needed.”

“Now, we can make a plan,” the dragonborn sat down on the floor, the sky growing ever darker as Hermaeus Mora spread himself to almost completely cover the dome shaped barrier.

“No,” Miraak said involuntarily. He didn’t like this dragonborn. He didn’t like being outdone. “What happens when I am released? I will still take over Solstheim.”

“Then I will fight you. I will not hold back. I will destroy you,” Somehow, Miraak knew their words to be true. “But you deserve a chance. The right to be free. The right to choose your path.”

It was a simple plan, really, even though it would take much effort. The barrier would stay intact, and a simple illusion spell, to make it look as though they were still fighting. They would have some time before Hermaeus Mora realized the trick. After that, a much more complicated and tiring teleportation spell to get them far enough away to complete their escape.

Y/N nearly collapsed after teleporting them to a far flung corner of Apocrypha. Miraak didn’t hesitate to help them; his escape was much more important than his pride. Stumbling forward, the pair found what they were looking for- a black book. One that had been tampered with.

Miraak flung it open and felt a strange pull as he was taken back to the physical world.

The first thing he saw was blue. The sky. He hadn’t seen it in so long…

He was laying flat on his back, the ash of Solstheim cradling him. He took it all in; the smell of the wind, the ash in the air, the clouds lazily floating across the sky.

Beside him, Y/N stirred. He hadn’t even noticed them, let alone their exhaustion from the escape. They sat up, looking over at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Why did you save me? I can do anything now. I could turn on you in an instant...” He was free now. He had the choice. He no longer had to rely on the help of some silly little dragonborn who thought they could do anything.

“No one deserves that kind of punishment, to be trapped somewhere against their own will. I made it my duty to save everyone I could, so when I heard about you, I felt compelled to help.” Y/N stated flatly.

Miraak didn’t understand, but didn’t feel as though it was his place to question them. Why save everyone? Why waste effort on strangers and civilians. It confused him. He pushed it to the back of his mind as he stood up.

“What will you do now?” Y/N asked, standing beside him.

“I will follow you. I leave no debt unpaid, and assisting in my escape was no paltry matter,” Miraak stated. It was clear from his voice that he did not like this arrangement, but it was the only thing that Miraak could think of. The world had changed very drastically from when he last saw it; there was no way he could conquer it with his lack of information.

“Then how about we make a deal…” Y/N started, “I will share my knowledge with you, and in return you share yours with me. I know everything about today’s world, and you have information I find most interesting…”

“Oh? And what information is that?” Miraak asked.

“I am very interested in hearing about your magical techniques, and how they differ from today’s… Oh! I know the perfect place we can go. Somewhere we can talk freely with another dov…” Y/N began walking, Miraak trailing behind.

The entire journey from Solstheim to Skyrim and their long trek to the Throat of the World, Y/N recounted many things to Miraak. From the history he had missed, the magic they had learned and pioneered, and their journey as a dragonborn.

Miraak was content to listen. He took this time to take it all in, to learn and to contemplate. What would his life be now? Who was he, if not a man who conquered? Was following this dragonborn the correct course of action?

As time passed, he knew the answer. Ever since he was child, he was always looked at as though he was inhuman. But even though he hid behind his mask, Y/N always treated him as a person. Even after all he had done. He had never felt so… human.

At the same time, the dragon blood that ran through the pair was not forgotten as they trained together most evenings, sharpening their voices and improving their skills.

One such training session began, and this time the focus was hand to hand combat. Weapons strewn aside in the grass, the two grappled.

Being in a forest had its advantages and disadvantages, one of such came to light. A butterfly floated down between the pair, and landed itself on Miraak’s mask, right between his eyes. Y/N laughed, a musical tone Miraak rarely heard.

Miraak felt his chest jump. Quickly pushing this feeling aside, he launched forward, “Stop laughing!”

Y/N was taken down, hands pinned beside their head, but they didn’t seem to mind as they continued their laughing fit. Miraak felt his face flush. He was equally embarrassed and enamored by their laugh. He knew he had to shut them up, and his brain, rife with the feelings he had been stowing for months, sprung into action.

Quickly flicking his mask aside, Miraak pressed his lips to theirs. Y/N’s laughter was interrupted by a sound of surprise. Leaning in and pressing their face to his, Y/N relished the feel of his lips against their own.

“Hah! The first dragonborn wins again. You shouldn’t let your guard down like that,” Miraak knew he won the brawl, thanks to his bold move.

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorted, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss.

The next thing he knew, Miraak was flat on his back.

“And actually, I win,” Y/N smiled sweetly and laughed again. Miraak lunged towards them once again.

(If you liked it please send me requests!!!)

#skyrim x reader #miraak x reader #skyrim #miraak

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

#nandor the relentless #Nandor x reader #nandor x you #nandor x y/n #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows x reader #vampire fun yeah #love my big huggable vampire #:)

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csigirl3137 · 3 years

Text

The Masked Rider

Pairing: Hiccup Haddock x Astrid Hofferson

Word Count: 1309

Warnings: Smut, light role-playing, public sex, outdoor sex, Chief Hiccup, Masked Rider Hiccup, Hiccup in leather, Astrid may or may not have a leather kink, light dom/sub

Authors Note: This was just a fun little idea that popped into my head as I started looking back over the dragon scale armor that Hiccup wears in the third movie. Also the dragons didn't leave.

When the masked rider had swooped in and ambushed Astrid on her way home, she hadn't expected that she'd end up in this position.

Yeah she'd prepared herself for some sort of unexpected actions, but pinned against her hut, leggings and underwear around her knees, leather gloved hand over her mouth, impaled on the rider's cock... well... that's not how she'd expected to end up but she's also not complaining.

Astrid screams into the leather gloved hand over her mouth as a particularly sharp thrust slams her forward against the rough siding of her hut.

She earns a sharp nip to the skin of her neck, buckles digging into her back as the man behind her continues to thrust into her.

"Shhhhhh... we don't want anyone to hear, remember?" The words are teasing, followed by a particularly hard thrust, his cockhead dragging over that sensitive spot inside her, another scream escaping Astrids lips into the leather pressed over her mouth.

She knows it's pathetic but all she can do is whimper in response.

Shes so turned on she can barely see straight. She tries to turn her face, searching for a glimpse of the man behind her and inside her, but strong fingers tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her to keep looking forward.

Once certain she'll keep her head forward, the hand releases her hair, travelling back down her body, smooth leather trailing through her slick folds, brushing over the already over stimulated bud, Astrid crying out as his fingers move back to it, gently stroking over the bud, strokes matching the agonizingly slow pace of his thrusts.

Astrid sobs, needing more and being way too over stimulated at the same time. He's had her on the brink of orgasm three times already and she's about to go mad, she wants to cum so badly.

Another agonizingly slow thrust, another muffled moan into leather, another sharp nip at her neck, and another teasingly reproachful reminder that she needs to be quiet unless she wants someone to come and investigate the sounds she's making.

He soothes the irritated area he'd just caused on her skin, licking over the spot he'd nipped and then trails a line of kisses up from her jaw down the side of her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point.

Astrid moans and sinks her fingers into the soft short hair at the nape of the riders neck, fingers tightening and tangling in it, pulling a hiss of pain out of the man behind her.

"Please..." Astrid begs into the leather over her mouth.

The hand drops, trailing down her front to rest possessively around her throat for a second, but then travling downwards again, ending with his hand closing around one of her breasts, massaging and caressing, fingers brushing over her harshly pebbled nipple.

The rider makes a sound of interested surprise as his fingers brush over her nipple and she gasps and arches back into him.

His hand leaves her breast, slides down the flat length of her abdomen, cool leather slipping under the bottom of her tunic, sliding back up over her bare skin, a pleased sound coming from the man behind her when he finds her without her bindings.

"No bindings," he chuckles darkly against her skin,the hand between her legs coming up to cup her breasts.

The feel of the smooth leather of his gloves against the sensitivity of her pebbled nipples draws a gasp from Astrid which soon turns into a muffled squeal when the man inside her suddenly increases his pace as he simultaneously pinches both her nipples between his fingers.

"Oh gods please!! Please!" She gasps, trying desperately not to yell like she really wants to as he goes from leisurely thrusting to railing into her, barely a second between thrusts.

She tightens her grip on his hair, her other hand coming up to wrap around and dig into the braces covering his forearm, holding onto him, trying to ground herself.

The increased pace of thrusts combined with the stance change he'd briefly made, drag his cock over that special spot inside her, with every thrust and before she knows it, that same familiar feeling starts to coil in her gut, an orgasm fast approaching.

Whining, Astrid writhes, barely able to stand the amount of pleasure she was feeling, gasping, begging, pleading quietly with him to let her cum this time.

"Thor almighty you look absolutely gorgeous coming apart for me like this." His voice is in her ear, filled with passion, lust and amazement. His thrusts have slowed a but and Astrid gets the feeling that he's trying to put off his orgasm as long as possible. She doesn't care about that as long as he lets her cum this time.

"Please, please, Hiccup! Please! I need to cum, please, let me!" Astrid gasps his name, her husband chuckling against her skin as he presses another kiss to her neck, fingers rolling and pinching her nipples.

"Then cum for me milady," The affectionate pet name, paired with a sudden harsh pinch of her nipples, a sharp thrust of his cock over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside her and Astrid is tensing up, and then she's falling apart, writhing on his cock, body shaking and spamming, legs almost giving out as waves of pleasure roll over her body.

One of Hiccup's hands leaves her breast, barely clamping back over her mouth in time, muffling her relieved and pleasurable wail, that probably would have woken half the village if not muffled.

"Oh gods, Astrid!" He's groaning out her name, hips jerking, head falling onto her shoulder as he fucks her through her orgasm and into his.

She knows as soon as his hips falter before he starts to slam back into her, that he's about to fall over the same edge she just had.

"Astrid!" And then he's sinking his teeth into the skin of her neck, muffling his pleasured groan, hot ropes of cum splattering against her walls inside.

They both stay like that, coming down from the orgasmic highs, still joined, breathing heavily. Astrid leans against the hut for support, her husband leaning against her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist holding her to his body, head still on her shoulder. The buckles of his armor are digging bruises into her back but she doesn't really care.

She likes any and all marks she gets from Hiccup during sex.

"Well hello to you too." She gasps breaking the silence and the moment. Hiccup laughs against her skin, fingers gripping her chin, turning her head towards him so he could kiss her properly.

"Hello," he laughs when they break apart from their kiss. "I missed you today." Hiccup kisses her temple as he slowly pulls out of her, dropping her skirt back down to cover her again, reaching down and pulling her leggings and underwear back up her legs and under her skirt. Astrid adjusts her leggings so they're right under her skirt as He tucks himself back into his pants. Hiccup smiles down at Astrid as she turns around so she's facing him, his fingers still working on the buckles of his pants.

"I can tell." Astrid loops her arms around his neck and kisses him again. "I missed you too."

"Are you tired?" The question is random and out of nowhere. Astrid gives him a confused look but answers anyway.

"Not particularly..." she doesn't get to finish her sentence because Hiccup is scooping her off the ground and carrying her bridal style around their hut to the front door.

The expression on his face as they enter the hut and he kicks the door shut behind them, is absolutely feral and it sends shivers of anticipation down her spine.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near done with you yet.

#httyd #hiccstrid #Chief Hiccup #httyd 3 #smut #Hiccstrid smut #astrid hofferson #hiccup horrendous haddock iii

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anaiswriterr · 3 years

Text

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW. This chapter has descriptions of blood, and nausea and vomit!

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter six: the dragon queens ceremony -

•

The crowd cheers in entertainment, screaming and yelling to drench the Queen. You are passed out in the arms of the guards as villagers bang their drums even louder as you are lead, barley conscious into the plaza.

Fire torches light the room.

You are thrown onto a heavy stack of hay bales, roughly. You stir awake slightly at the sound of Kirishima's muttering. "Don't throw her like that unless you want to be my dinner for the night!" He scolds the guards, you hear a growl come from his throat. You try to open your eyes, but the headache you were facing with continued to beat at the sides of your temples. You whimper in pain as your hands are pulled harshly, you finally open your eyes when you realize it's another guard.

His hands carry heavy pales of blood, your vision sees two of each person. Blinded by the torches and startled by its heat.

You feel warmth quickly rush down your body, you cough. Choking on the red liquid, your hands quickly shoot up to wipe it away off your eyes, mouth and nose.

"Relax.. you're not going to choke." Kirishima says, holding onto you hand. "Bakugou should be here in a second.."

You struggle to stay up, "I don't want to see him."

Dots surround your line of vision but you can still manage to make out your surroundings, the plaza mainly looks like a barn from the inside. People are surrounded on the balcony and even on the first floor. Hay bales litter the floor and torches are set up on each pillar. Women and children cheer with their husbands, shouting as they watch the heart being drenched in blood. They yell, "Bring out the Queen!"

You are wet, and slightly cold but the warmth of the blood regulates your body temperature. The beating drums sound even louder, horns and bells play from the outside.

"He'll be the first you go to as soon as you're finished," Kirishima states, as he pulls you lightly to the sidelines. He looks over you, pointing out the King. You nod your head in attempts to see straight again, their are two of him and you didn't know which was which.

"H-How do you know I'll go to him?" You ask, gulping down the vomit that taunted your throat. The nausea makes your knees weak, his two versions of himself smile softly.

"Trust me."

You can barley focus on his words so instead you nod your head, a guard clears their throat, gesturing to one of the politicians. "It's time." He said, reaching out to grab you by the arm you seethe at his roughness. His fingers press harshly into the sunburn skin. You whip your head around in search for the Dragon who was meant to watch over you, he grimaces to himself, nodding to you. You look back towards the guard, his stoic expression shows he doesn't care. But what's new?

You lick your chapped lips, nearly gagging at the metallic taste that latched onto your tongue.

Cheers and yells quiet down with the drums, you are pushed onto a small wooden stage.

An old man who you assumed was the Counsels President stands beside you, roaring the crowd as he hands you the heart. His blue eyes boar into your E/C ones, trembling you reach out with both hands to take it. The warmth of the pigs blood dribbles down your arms.

Hungry eyes all around you, watching in entertainment.

You stare down at the muscle in your hands, trembling, nauseated, you have no idea what to do. You weren't cut out for this, to be part of the dragons and their clan of fearful members. You look out into the crowd, who were you searching for? What were you trying to prove? You've gotten so far, and here you are, searching for the part that tells you it's worth it.

It dead silent in the plaza.

You don't know who you are searching for, but the pair of vermillion eyes that settled softly on yours prove to be worthy. He nods.

And you take that first bite.

***

You heave with each bite, gnawing at the tough, uncooked muscle. The scent.. the taste of blood is enough to pull you to your knees in front of everyone. You fight back the urge to vomit, still your teeth tear into the heart and blood rushes down the corners of your lips and onto your chest. Coating the now dried blood all over your neck and torso in a fresh layer of crimson, tears trail down your cheeks as you inhale through your nose.

Loud cheers drown out in your head.

You take another bite, keeping eye contact with the King as the only way to distract you from its foul taste.

Choking on a combination of blood and the pieces that refused to go down you lean forward harshly, gaging up the remnants of heart. You sob quietly as the drums halt and the crowds buzzling stops. For a moment, you lean over, a hand clamped shut over your mouth. You can feel it right at the top, the heart, the blood, resurfacing, fighting to get between the cracks of you fingers. You look back up to Bakugou, his eyes glare into yours masking away the hint of worry that settled in them.

It was almost like he was telling you to swallow.

You gag again, this time fighting through and gulping down the rest while shoving the remaining piece into your mouth. You struggle to stand, chewing away at the last piece. It's tougher than the other bits and pieces. You can hear the rumbling of the drums start again from below your feet and the cheering begins.

You swallowed the last piece, sticking out your tongue to show off you had finished the last god forsaken piece. You feel the corners of your lips tug in a tired smile, people are hugging, and cheering and you could've sworn the Counsel President cursed beneath his breath. You sigh in relief and watch as Bakugou makes his way towards you with a proud smile, you walk towards the edge of the wooden platform and allow his strong muscular arms to wrap around your knees. Pulling you close to his chest with his chin buried into your stomach, the king never showed emotion.

But as his rightful Queen, he promised his mother to try.

You thought his affection was because they were in front of their people, which made more sense. You had earned his respect, your vision is slightly blurred but you hear his hushed voice tell Kirishima to ready the carriage.

"Ready the carriage, we're taking her back home."

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legends-of-apex · 3 years

Text

‘Close Encounters of The Soft Kind’ - Bi-Han/Sub-Zero x Reader (fluff)

Summary: Shang Tsung asks you to tend to Bi-Han’s wounds after the fight with Jax.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this idea! Here it is! Hope you all enjoy :D Was so excited to write for Bi-Han as he’s such a great character! Hope you enjoy a softer side of him lol. TW for slight injury detail and the reader (GN) being a servant of Shang Tsung

Word Count: 3,500

Part Two

Tagging: @nyxdjarin @dragon-chica (if you’d like to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

“You have returned, my champion! Were you successful?” Shang Tsung’s voice boomed as Sub-Zero made his way towards the dark, looming throne. The setting sun created a brilliant orange glow that bloomed behind it. He shook his head in reply, clenching and releasing his shoulder muscles in an attempt to release some of the aches and tension built up in the aftermath of the fight with Jax.

Shang Tsung let out a frustrated sigh through his teeth and cracked his neck, “You will have ample opportunity to succeed, I can assure you.” He was disappointed at his failure but he knew he had to keep Bi-Han on his side and sometimes that meant not letting his pride get in the way. He had to treat him well and keep him happy to retain the allegiance of someone so powerful. “You are injured?” Sub-Zero looked up at him, confused but saw that some of the blood had leaked through his armour on his forearm. Most of it wasn’t his but he truly couldn’t be bothered to explain as much.

Shang Tsung called your name then and you carefully stepped out from beside his throne, leaving the all too comfortable darkness. “Tend to our guests' wounds. And see to it that he is comfortable.” You bowed quickly before him, walking swiftly past Sub-Zero, your eyes cast straight at the floor. You turned briefly to see if the man was following you and you saw that he was, slowly, his eyes dead set on you. You caught his bright eyes for a moment and then turned your attention back to the ground as you walked towards the nearest free room in the castle.

The man’s footsteps were silent, the only sound following him was the occasional clink of his armour as he moved. When you reached the closest empty room you opened the door for him and stood to the side, avoiding his bright gaze at all costs. He took a cautious step inside, but he was too tired to care at this point if you were leading him to his death. He just wanted to sleep.

You closed the door behind you and started searching one of the many cupboards within the room. It was lavish, with all kinds of expensive furnishings and fabrics that Bi-Han hadn’t had the time to enjoy for a century. The room was warm too, but he would soon fix that if he needed to. He noticed the faint flickering of the candles on the wall, the room was clearly well prepared.

You approached him with a bundle of supplies in your arms and he now noticed the tatters and tears on the hems of your clothing. He wondered exactly what you were to Shang Tsung. If you were a lover or a concubine he was sure you would have been kept in better dress. You seemed far too shy for that anyhow, you wouldn’t even look him in the eye but that wasn’t usually an accurate indicator of anything. It was rare for anyone to counter his gaze.

You dumped the supplies on the bed and a quick flicker of your eyes up to his signalled for him to take a seat. He did, chin tilted towards the sky as he looked at you over his nose. He sat at the edge of the extravagantly large bed in the centre of the room, moving to undo his bracers but stopped when your hand shot out to stop him. You lay his large hand out over his lap and carefully undid the first buckle, then the other before sliding the piece of armour off his hand and placing it on a nearby dresser. He thought it was adorable how you cradled the piece in your arms as though it were made of gold.

He watched your face the entire time, brows knitted together as he studied you. He was trying to figure out what your intentions were in Shang Tsung’s castle, why you were here. You were beautiful, he didn’t mind admitting it. He knew beauty when he saw it although it was rare that he stopped to notice it. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what such beauty was doing here of all places.

As you slipped the other bracer from his wrist, your finger brushed against his skin and recoiled slightly from the cold. He didn’t really notice, all too focused on the feeling of the touch of another on his skin. It was such a foreign feeling that he found himself frowning at it. You moved around him, undoing the straps that held his shoulder pads in place before setting those aside as well. His eyes burned into the back of your head as you moved around the room and you caught them with your own when you turned to face him again.

“Do you- Would you like your mask removed?” You asked, eyes flickering between him and the floor. He contemplated the question for a moment. Did he want you to see his face? He wasn’t sure. It had been at least a decade since anyone had. But your kind eyes and soft touch outweighed any concerns he had. Your voice was kind too, but worrisome in how you stumbled over your words. He hated to think why you were afraid to speak. A strange pang of concern drummed through his stomach as he contemplated the reason. Perhaps you were just afraid of him? That’s what he would usually put it down to but it wasn’t him you seemed afraid of.

He nodded his head once and went to undo the strap at the back of his head, pulling the helmet off, taking the mask with it. You couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. He was human. Or at least he looked human. If it wasn’t for his eyes and his slightly busted lip then he could’ve been any normal man you’d see walk by on the street. But he wasn’t and you knew that. You’d heard the whispers of his brutality, his callousness echoing through Shang Tsung’s castle. But now, as you gazed upon his handsome face, the faintest ghost of a smile gracing his reddened lips as he looked right back at you, he almost could’ve fooled you into thinking he wasn’t any of that.

The way you looked at him now was hilarious, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps you were expecting some gaping maw for a mouth and not the face of what appeared to be just a man? A very handsome man. He hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in so long, you were almost admiring him. He suddenly felt a little nervous under your stare, he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

You extended both your hands to him and he placed the mask and helmet into your palms.

When you return back to him, you help him shrug off the rest of his armour and he felt the weight that left with it deep within his very bones. He needed a rest, not that he would ever admit it. You searched his body for a clasp to undo his chest plate, frowning slightly when you couldn’t see any. He liked your frown, he decided. It looked so out of place on your features.

Your breath hitched when he took your hand in his. His skin was so cold, colder than any living person’s flesh you had ever felt. He guided your hand to the side of his ribs then and you felt the clasp beneath your fingertips. He knew you weren’t going to let him do it himself but his hand didn’t leave yours, neither did his eyes but you were too focused on undoing the armour to truly notice the extent of his stare.

Once shed of his chest plate, the only thing standing between you and his injuries now was his black undershirt. You didn’t need to ask him to remove it. He reached back and grabbed the hem of it at the base of his neck, pulling the ruined material over his head and into his lap. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight.

His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, the muscle thick and skin scarred. In a way it looked like someone had ran a jagged paintbrush over his skin, it was certainly a better alternative than the tool that was actually responsible. His arms were well worked too but you had to stop admiring him when you caught sight of his wound.

With a shaky hand, you placed a finger on either side of the gash on his bicep. It wasn’t deep but it would need stitches. Every other mark and bruise paled in comparison to that gash so you would deal with it first. His gaze almost softened as you touched his arm, he could’ve closed his eyes at the feeling of such intimacy. Your fingertips were so warm, so soft. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve mistaken you for someone who cared about him.

You moved away from him to grab a chair to pull up beside him and filled a bowl with water so you could clean the wound and his other grazes. You had never thought that you of all people would be the one to see Sub-Zero without his armour. It was a daunting thought. You knew of the work he did for Shang Tsung, you knew he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now was less like he wanted to hurt you, and more like he was savouring you and your presence. You didn’t mind being so close to him now either. He wasn’t harsh, in fact, he was anything but. Any move he made was slow, almost as though he was afraid of scaring you.

You dipped a cotton ball into the warm water, lifting it and squeezing some of the liquid out before bringing it to his wound. You dabbed at it gently, wiping away any crusted blood or debris you could find. His gaze was still locked on your face then but it was soft, studying.

He liked watching you work. He admired how gentle your touch was despite you having no relation to him at all. Did you treat everyone with such kindness? Either way, he savoured the inherent intimacy of what you were doing. You could’ve nearly been a lover then, he thought. A lover painstakingly tending to him after a hard day. Your touch certainly could have been that of a lover, so gentle and careful not to apply too much pressure to his skin in case you hurt him. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him in such a way, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

He knew you weren’t a lover, of course. But he let himself relax as though you were. He trusted you, not finding a single ounce of malice in your presence. You seemed grateful when his shoulders slacked a little, knowing he wasn’t too on edge now. In truth, he was relaxed. Having forgotten how calming the touch of another could be, even if you were just wiping away dried blood.

Once that wound was cleaned, you turned to the stray scratches that littered the rest of him. He hadn’t the heart to tell you they would heal in no time. As you looked over his chest, a frown graced you as you noticed a particularly wretched-looking scar that zig zagged across his abdomen. You examined it between your fingers, gently stretching the skin to get a better look. You were frowning again, and you took in a breath like you wanted to say something but bit your tongue.

He cocked his head to the side, silently asking you what it was you wanted to say.

“This hasn’t been stitched up very well.”

And he laughed beneath his breath. That was such a strange sound. You looked up at him, finding the amusement in his brilliant eyes. You raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what on earth he found funny.

“Healing techniques weren’t particularly precise when it happened.” That scar had come from Hanzo’s blade, stabbed him right through a gap in his armour.

“Oh.” You continued to look it over, examining just how badly it had been taken care of. You were doing literally anything you could to distract yourself from how nice his voice was and how seemingly privileged you were to hear it. “When did it happen?”

He smiled, weighing up whether or not he should tell you. “1617.”

You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. You didn’t look afraid, you just looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he’d just told you. With a shake of your head, you returned to cleaning the rest of his wounds. You looked like you wanted to say something but held your tongue again, he longed to hear what you had to say about the matter. Or anything else really.

As you dabbed at the specks of blood on his chest he found himself relaxing more and more, his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Your touch felt like heaven, warm fluttering fingertips on his skin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying.” You cleared your throat, “You don’t look a day over a hundred.” You smiled up at him then. A brilliant smile that he couldn’t help return. You were joking with him, and he loved it.

Once his wounds were cleaned and his skin held a glistening sheen from your moistened cotton wool, you sat up and grabbed a needle, holding it over a candle for a moment before threading it. When you returned to him, he held his injured arm out for you, not shying away from the red hot needle at all. You were careful with your stitches, not that he had high standards for your needlework. But you noticed how he didn’t even flinch. Not once, in fact, he only moved to turn his arm slightly so you could see the wound better. What a strange man he was.

When you were finished you grabbed a bottle of ointment for him. The herbs smelt wonderful, a refreshing change to the smell of blood. You coated your hands in it then and set about rubbing it into his gashes and grazes. You’d be lying if you said your fingers hadn’t lingered longer than necessary on his torn skin. He didn’t seem to care. Your fingers rubbed in circles, slow and gentle. The cold radiating off of him didn’t seem to bother you now, in fact, his skin warmed slightly beneath your touch.

When you were finished, you stood but noticed a single droplet of dried blood on his temple. Instinctively, you reached forward to find the source. Your nails dragged over his scalp as you parted his hair to find the gash, and he swore he’d never felt a sensation so wonderful.

“You hit your head.” You noted, more to yourself than him it seemed. The gash was small, only a graze really but you cleaned it anyways. Any head injury was concerning no matter how small. “Do you need some ice?” You asked and he looked up at you as if asking if you were joking.

You had no idea why he’d had that reaction. Maybe it was because it didn’t hurt at all?

Sensing your confusion, he extended his hand towards you, his palm turned towards the ceiling. Specks of blood appeared in the centre of his palm, shortly followed by small ice crystals. The crystals swelled and grew until in his hand he held the most perfect sphere of solid ice. You blinked rapidly, looking between his face and the ice.

“A cryomancer?” You asked, excitement evidence on your face as you cupped his large hand between both of yours, admiring the ice. “I didn’t realise there were any of you left.” You whispered to yourself but he heard. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my excitement. I’ve just never met anyone like you before.” Your voice was timid now, almost sheepish as you straightened your posture and regained your composure.

“Please, there is no need to apologise.” His voice was low, and he swallowed thickly after he spoke. Like he wasn't too used to speaking anymore.

You took the sphere from his hands, cradling it as though it were some precious gem. You wrapped it in a cloth then and held it carefully to the side of his head. “For the swelling.” You confirmed, daring to sneak a glance at his face again. His eyes were like pools, you could stare at them forever but you forced yourself to break away from his gaze and focus on why you were here. “Have you any more injuries?” You asked him and he shook his head in reply, placing his hand over yours to support your makeshift ice pack. You left your hand there for a moment, biting the inside of your lip at the touch before letting your hand drop to your side.

You began to gather your things together, “It was wonderful to meet you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know his name,

“Bi-Han.” He didn’t know why he said it, as freely and openly as he did.

“Bi-Han.” You confirmed and he decided then that your voice was the only one he ever wanted to hear saying his name. “It was lovely to meet you, Bi-Han. If you need anything, there will be servants passing through the halls all night.”

“Is that what you are?” He asked, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“A servant?” You sighed, “I suppose you could call me that.” He didn’t like that answer.

“Are you here of your own accord?”

“No.” You shook your head, sadness evident across your beautiful face, “I should be going.”

His eyes closed. That was exactly what he was afraid of. You were a prisoner here. No wonder you were so nervous. Shang Tsung was a bastard, to be fair so was he. But Bi-Han was always a bigger fan of quick deaths rather than prolonged suffering or servitude. He was only here to end Hanzo’s line, the only one who offered him the chance to do so was Shang Tsung but that didn’t mean he held any semblance of loyalty to the man.

He wasn’t sure what to say then. He couldn’t really offer any comfort. So he gave you the one thing he could. You saw the ice begin to sprout from one hand, and he shaped it with his other. You looked on, curious as to what exactly he was doing. When he held his hand out to you again, a dagger made of solid ice sat within it. He grabbed the hilt between his fingers and twirled it towards you. You took it with a shaky hand, unsure of his intentions.

“Should you need to defend yourself.” he clarified, “It will not melt.” Not with how dense he had made it.

You threw your arms around his neck then, something he truly wasn’t expecting. When you pulled back your eyes were teary.

“Thank you.” You spoke with such sincerity and vigour that he felt some foreign emotion stir within his chest. It seems like it had been a while since you had been shown any kindness too.

He admired how you stared in awe of the dagger, pressing it flat against your chest as though it was the most precious gift you had ever received. “Thank you, Bi-Han. Whatever can I do to repay you?” You looked to him for an answer. He was about to shake his head, tell you that you’d already done far more for him than he could ever hope to explain. But then he had a thought.

“Your name. All I ask is your name.”

You told him without hesitation and he extended his hand towards you once more. You took it, surprised when he turned your palm around and brought your knuckles to his lips, his eyes dead set on yours as he did.

“Thank you,” he told you with all the sincerity in his heart, you assumed it was for patching him up but he meant it for much much more. The kindness you had shown him was truly something else, he felt truly blessed by the gods to have met you. He released your hand then and you stood frozen for a moment before shifting the dagger into the bundle of supplies and gathering them back in your arms.

You shook your head as you walked towards the door. “No, thank you.” You offered him a final smile then, “Good night, Bi-Han.” With that, you were gone. He silently cursed himself for not wishing you a good night as well. He decided then and there that he would speak with Shang Tsung about you in the morning. There was no way in hell that he was letting him keep you here without your say so and he didn’t care what he had to do to get you out of that place.

Part two

#bi-han x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat #bi-han #sub zero #mortal kombat 2021 #fic #mine #my writing #fluff

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

au where c!dream is an enderman hybrid and that was the way how he became friends with ew!ranboo

yo!! this is such a fun concept, and i love c!endersmile with all my heart haha. have this fun ficlet (and sorry for the late ask) !

tws: none? i think. woah !!! :O

“Hey, Boo.”

Ranboo turns, chirping happily at the sight of the masked man behind him. Dream smiles softly, brushing his mask out of the way to expose his face as he settles to sit besides him.

He doesn’t look that good, if Ranboo is being honest. His face is pale, the undersides of his eyes mark with dark, bruise-like shadows. His smile twitches a bit at the corners, shoulders pulled up and tense. Ranboo watches him as he turns to look at the side, ears flicking absently as he continues to stare intently at Dream.

“What are you looking at?” Dream says, finally noticing his scrutiny, narrowing his eyes playfully with a small laugh.

“Have you slept at all?”

Dream’s smile falters, slightly, and Ranboo glares at him half-heartedly as he raises his hands in mock-offense.

“Woah! Give a guy a break, will you? I didn’t know I was going to be interrogated,” Dream looks away, the heavy sigh that falls from his lips immediately after betraying his lighthearted tone. Ranboo chirps again, indignantly, when Dream doesn’t offer an answer, and Dream huffs.

“No, I didn’t,” and there it is, Ranboo thinks tiredly as he hisses quietly in reprimand. Dream balks, clicking quietly in indignation as his ears raise, “Don’t give me that! It’s fine, really, I’ll sleep later. You worry too much.”

“And you’re an idiot” Ranboo snips back, thoroughly enjoying the way Dream makes a series of clicking noises instinctually, spluttering in his seat, and rather childishly decides to stick his tongue out at the other. Dream rolls his eyes.

“So mature,” he huffs, and Ranboo does it again for good measure.

“Ender’s lights, what am I going to do with you?” Dream smiles, reaching over to ruffle his hair while Ranboo makes a big show of unhinging his jaw and baring his teeth in rebellion. Dream finger combs through it, shaking his head as he does so. “This is getting long, you know.”

Ranboo shrugs. “I think I was planning on getting it cut soon.”

“Mm,” Dream sifts through the strands gently, and Ranboo purrs quietly at the feeling. “Whatever you want. I like it.”

He keeps combing through the locks carefully, and Ranboo relaxes at the feeling of the fingers easing through his hair, the calloused fingertips pressing lightly against his scalp and drawing soft chirps and purrs from his lungs. He vaguely feels it as the hands go from combing aimlessly to doing- something, bringing strands of hair together and pulling them taut, twisting together into something that feels complicated even as Ranboo’s head tips to his chest, brain going pleasantly foggy as he drifts asleep.

“Boo?” Dream’s voice cuts through the mist, turning into chirps and clicks of his own when he doesn’t immediately respond. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No,” Ranboo protests, his words losing significant weight when a yawn cuts him off. “M’awake.”

“Are you tired? Have you been sleeping enough?” Dream frowns, looking at him closer. “You better not be skipping out on sleep to hang out with me when your asleep side doesn’t know, Boo.”

Ranboo swats at him with his tail, getting a sharp yelp in return. “Hypocrite. How many hours have you slept in the last week, again?”

“That’s different!”

“Yeah, and I’m the Ender Dragon.”

Dream huffs, making a small chirruping noise as his tail moves from side to side. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re old.”

Dream whacks him lightly on the head, and Ranboo - unable to hold it back anymore - begins to laugh, starting with soft giggles that devolve into gasping, full-blown laughter when Dream’s composure similarly begins to crumble. They’re both a little sleep deprived, so it’s probably at least half out of delirium, but it’s nice to see Dream so relaxed, for once, so he doesn’t say anything further. After a while, when they’ve both calmed down, Ranboo settles back onto the palms of his hands, tail swishing gently behind him as he looks into the sky.

“It’s a clear night today,” he says after a moment, slightly awed despite how many times he’s looked into the same sky before. He reaches a hand up towards it, fur a stark white against the blue-black night. Deep inside his chest, something stirs in longing. “It’s a little like-”

“Home,” Dream chirps next to him, quiet enough that Ranboo only barely hears it. He smiles softly as he looks over before switching to Common, “The End.”

Ranboo hums in agreement. His mind swirls with half-formed memories, the gaps filled by Dream’s descriptions and his own imagination- a sky even darker and more vast than the one above them, spindly purple trees stretching up over islands of pale, porous rock, obsidian towers too high to see the tops of, bearing magical crystals as protection for the Dragon’s nest. He loves the Overworld, loves the home he has made here, loves the people - but some part of him, a shard lodged deep in his chest that burns cold at the sight of the sparkling sky above him, never quite stops pulling him home.

“Why is the End blocked off?”

He winces as soon as the question leaves his mouth; it’s something he’s wondered for a long time, but nothing he ever asked. From what he’s heard about the End’s Guardian, from Phil and Techno, and how unexplored the strongholds have been that he’s found, he’s got the impression that Dream is a little touchy about his heritage, or at least the place he came from. To his surprise, Dream doesn’t have any obvious outward reaction to the question, simply humming in that insufferable, noncommittal sort of way he does sometimes that makes it impossible to really know what he’s thinking about.

“I was worried, at first,” he starts, seeming to weigh each word before he speaks, “that it would be too dangerous. And then things here got messy, and I became worried for home, instead.” Ranboo nods after Dream goes quiet, sensing that the older won’t give any further explanation. He leans back again, looking up at the sky, when Dream suddenly speaks once more.

“I’ll bring you, one day, voidchild,” Ranboo startles a bit at the term of endearment, fur standing up in embarrassment. Dream laughs softly, the sound settling deeper into a purr. “After all of this, when it’s safer for everyone again. I can show you around.”

Ranboo smiles, a purr of his own rumbling deep inside his chest. “I think I’d like that.”

---

Months later, Ranboo stands at the water’s edge, the skin around his eyes burning as he stubbornly refuses to let the tears within them fall. The area around the prison is as quiet and haunted as ever, the obsidian walls serving as a silent witness to his anger in the middle of the night.

“Liar,” he hisses, a traitorous tear slipping past and burning a trail down his face. Just as every time before, nothing shifts, no one comes; there is only the cold night air and Pandora’s Vault, here, to watch his grief. “You said you would bring me home.”

The wind whips at his face, blowing the water away and easing the sting. His voice cracks against his will as he looks down and away. “Who’s going to show me around now?”

#> my asks #my asks !!#my writing :d #> my writing

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

Oh I love your pregnancy hc's with Lady Dimitrescu, and was wondering if you could do something like that for Donna? As long as it's no trouble, thank you! <3

Broken Truth: A Pregnancy Headcanon for Donna? Okay - this will be more dramatic since Miranda is Donna's Adoptive Mother. Let the words weave together.

[How They Found Out]

When Donna didn't come downstairs for her morning tea and breakfast, [Y/N] knew there was something wrong with his wife.

This was the third day in a row Donna didn't come down at her regular time and [Y/N] followed his rule of 3: When something doesn't right 3 days in a row, it's time to counsel a professional.

The Lord of Beneviento Manor went down to the village and requested the services of a Female Doctor - there was no way in hell he was going to let some stupid-man thing run his filthy fingers on his wife's delicate skin.

He was actually the only male who admitted that men can be the stupidest creatures on Earth - that's why Alcina loves him as her brother-in-law. Her words: "Finally, A Man-Thing that sees his kinds are morons! You are now my favorite brother-in-law!"

When he returned with the doctor, he gave him some space and waited outside the room until they were done speaking before being called back in the room.

When he asked what was wrong with his wife - it was revealed that she was sharing her body with another organism other than the Cadou.

Donna was pregnant!

The Lord of Beneviento began to hop around with a large smile on his face, expressing his happiness of being a father.

Donna was surprised at his reaction - she was certain that he was going to tell her to get rid of it but it was clear he was looking forward to the baby just as she was.

Angie was happy as well - she was going to be a big sister!

[When They Informed The Others]

When the next Lords' Meeting rolled around, Donna walked with her arm laced in her husband's as he helped her get to her seat with Angie on his shoulder.

When it was time for House Beneviento to tell them any important news - The Married Lord cleared his throat and smiled as he held his nervous wife's hand.

"We have nothing to report in regards to the Cadou or Tests but there is some incredible news we could like to share. House Beneviento is expecting an heir - Donna is pregnant." The man smiled.

There was a brief moment of silence before [Y/N] was yanked off his feet when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed the collar of his shirt and began to shake him like a ragdoll with one hand while her claws were out in the other.

"HOW DARE YOU IMPREGNATE MY SISTER WITH YOUR FILTHY SEED, YOU STUPID MAN-THING?! DID YOU FORCE YOURSELF ON HER?! ANSWER ME BEFORE I SLICE YOU TO RIBBONS!!!" Alcina demanded as she shook him more.

"No! I would never force myself on the woman I love, Alcina! Please forgive me but I love her and we both wanted the baby!" He said through the dizziness.

"Alright." She dropped him, "Make one wrong move and I will skin you alive." She warned him, "Oh, and congratulations."

"Well, that's unexpected!" Karl said as he looked at Donna and her husband as he picked himself off the ground, "Congratz, both of you."

"I'm happy to hear that, Donna!" Sal said with as big as a smile he could make.

Donna opened her mouth to speak when the Golden Mask of her Adoptive Mother was in her direct line of sight and she went silent as everyone else did.

"You are with child?" She asked.

"Y...Yes, Mother Miranda." Donna squeaked.

"When did you find out? How far along are you?" She questioned.

"I'm a month along now..." Donna asked.

"A Month?!" Miranda yelled causing the Dollmaker to flinch, "You became pregnant a month ago and failed to inform me the moment you found out?! What kind of daughter fails to tell her mother something is important?!" Miranda yelled at Donna.

"That's enough, Miranda." The man said as he stood between the two of them and glared into the woman's blue eyes with his own.

"Get out of my way, Mortal. This is between me and my daughter." Miranda hissed at him.

"Your daughter is my wife, Mother-In-Law; I shall do whatever I have to do to make sure she is alright." He said before exhaling, "She didn't tell you because she was unsure of your response so I asked her to wait until the next Lord Meeting to tell everyone." [Y/N] turned to Donna and helped her up as Angie jumped on his shoulder & the three of them took their leave.

[As The Months Passed]

The bigger Donna's belly got - the more protective [Y/N] got over his wife.

It got so bad that he purchased walkie-talkies for Donna so that she could call him whenever she needed something and he would bring it to her without question.

He would bring her tea or treat, sometimes even rub her feet when she complained her feet were aching. He would do it all for his wife with a smile on his face.

He would cook whatever she asked - no matter how strange it was.

It was only a matter of time until the other 3 Lords started coming around with gifts for the new heir.

Karl made a new crib with the crest of House Beneviento engraved on the headboard.

Salvatore made a carousel out of the seashell he found in his domain.

Alcina came with stuffed bears in the shape of dragons - most likely, she got them from the Duke.

Then...There was Mother Miranda.

She would come at least 3 days out of a week and question the two of them about the pregnancy, making sure Donna ate enough food, drunk enough water.

Her reason: "I need to make sure my baby is brought into his world healthy."

[Y/N] really hated it when she said 'her baby' as if she was the one going through the hell of carrying a baby in her stomach for nine months.

But - even the strongest pipe has a limit until it bursts.

One day - [Y/N] was cleaning the table while Donna was taking a shower before bed. He had just finished sweeping the floor when there was a knock at the door.

'Who could be here at this hour?' he asked himself.

He opened the door and his eyes almost narrowed when he saw it was Miranda on the other side of the door.

"Mother-In-Law, what are you doing here at this hour?" He asked.

"I need to speak with Donna. Where is she?" Miranda asked as she pushed the man aside to get inside the house.

"Donna is taking a shower - she said she was tired and wanted to get some sleep." He explained as he closed the door.

"A shower this early?" Miranda questioned, "Is the water too hot? Is she using organic body soap?"

"What does it matter how Donna takes her showers?" He asked.

"Because I don't want my baby exposed to..."She was cut off.

"For the love of Blood Diamonds! That is NOT YOUR BABY!" The father snapped, "That baby belongs to Donna and I! We are the ones who made that baby, not you! But you keep coming around talking about 'my baby' this & 'my baby' that when you don't have a baby!" He yelled at her with blazing [E/C] eyes.

The Village Leader just stood there - frozen.

"Get this through your head right now - This is Donna's Baby. This is my baby. This is not your child nor is it your next experiment. Now, leave." He growled at her.

The village leader blinked at him before walking out of the door.

She didn't return.

[During The Birth]

"Let me through!" Miranda yelled as she tried to get past [Y/N] - who blocked the way into the room where Donna was giving birth.

The moment Donna's water broke - [Y/N] called Alcina who happened to have a maid who was also a midwife.

Mirada also knew how to deliver a baby but [Y/N] didn't trust her around Donna, let alone their baby.

The 2 Male Lords got there just in time to see the Lord of House Beneviento push Miranda away from the door just as the sound of a baby's wails filled the air but...it sounds duplicated.

The door opened and Alcina smiled at the new father.

"You have twins, Brother - A Healthy Boy & Girl." She smiled as she let the father into the room and watched as the midwife cleaned the blood from his children's bodies while he checked on his wife - she was tired but alright.

Soon, the babies were brought to the parents - Donna took her daughter into her arms while [Y/N] took his son into his own. The parents smiled at the babies until the question was asked.

"What shall you name them?" Karl asked as he removed his glasses to get a better look at the children.

"Our daughter shall be named Stella Beneviento - My Little Star." Donna said as she cuddled with her daughter

"And our son shall be named Dante Beneviento - My Everlasting Prince." [Y/N] said as he smiled down at his sleeping son.

[End]

#resident evil 8 #donna beneviento x male reader

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

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