#Chained to the Grave 2
Note
Okay, so remember that concept with allura having amnesia? Ive been thinking about that. a lot. and how it related to kuron specifically-
Beacuse there are PARALELLS here. They both have to deal with a legacy left by a past version of them and they both irreversibly change as people. Kuron resents Shiro and what he represents, and allura struggles with living up to the mysticisied and glorified hero everyone tells her shes supposed to be. and its like- if they talked about it like NORMAL PEOPLE, if Kuron had ANY emotional intelligence left, they would see that they have a lot in common actually!!
BUT. at the same time. I dont think its really possible for them to do that, at least right now, beacuse a huge fuckin part of kurons trauma was caused by allura fucking KILLING HIM, and hes understandably pissed about it. and i think that allura not remembering anything would only make him even more upset, bc everyone besides him mourned and idolisied her, and constantly hearing how great and noble the person who killed you was must suck ass, and then she COMES BACK, and maybe Kuron wants to yell at her and make her feel guilty for what she did and he wants to look her in the face and tell her exactly what he thinks about her- but he CANT. beacuse she killed him, took his body from him, and she DOESNT REMEMBER.
i dont really know where i'm going with this, but. yeah. this whole situation propably sucks ass for both of them(maybe theyll never reconsile. Maybe they wont end up as friends. And that's okay!! its cool to think about tho)
Bestie, my friend, my dude, my guy, mere yaar, yOU HIT THE NAIL RIGHT ON THE SPOT!!!!
So much of post s8 au is people who could have understood one another but dont because of the trauma everyone has, and Allura and Kuron are prime examples of it.
Kuron is not happy with her at all and all this 'hero worship' around her just further exacerbates it cause she used his body to bring back Shiro. Didnt even care that they were friends, didnt even care that he was a person, didnt even care that he may have been still alive, just used his body to bring Shiro back. And he hates her for it and hates people treating her like a hero and would have let her know that she's the worst but what is the point of that? She isnt here is she? She's dead and gone and they couldnt even bring back a body to bury because nothing of her left. So really what is the point of hating a dead woman? He avoids anything and every thing to do with her, and just tries very hard not to think about her, no bad vibes here sir we are just chillin hahahaha 😎😎😎😎😎
.......and then she comes back! And oh boy. Kuron is not having a good time at all. He is still very much avoiding her. If she's in the room, he's leaving the room and if he cant than being extremely snide and just glaring at her. Like he truly does want to explode on her and many times came close as well, but than he just walks out and screams in a pillow.
Allura has no fucking clue what to do with him. She doesnt even know him, doesnt know what his problem is, and thinks he's annoying. Really annoying and rude and she knows when she isnt wanted. Like she has met some genuinely terrible people on her journey throughout multiverse and Kuron is definately much better than them but also?? He's a fucking cunt. Everyone else is on the edge around him but no one wants to talk about it. And fine! Whatever! It's not like she's curious about what the fuck is up with this guy, or why he's the only one who doesnt look at her and is either about to cry or look at her like she personally put stars in the sky. She has too many problems and doesnt have the time for some dude's hostility.
But like once she knows about the whole mind replacing thing? Either because she was told or because she remembered bits and pieces. She's going to feel so guilty about it! Like crushing guilt. She'll try to make it up to him but given that he doesnt want to talk to her and even if he did she is convinced he probably hates her and doesnt want to see hom so she just. Going down the guilt spiral. Along with everything else
And yeah I think Kuron can never forgive Allura just like how he can never forgive Shiro. But i also think they'll come to an understanding and realize that they are similar and learn how to live with their pasts without it consuming them.
#I may change a few things when i get better ideas but for now#it is so funny to me no one is talking with each other#empty answers#post s8 au#Honestly this concept is just very fun to me in this au i had an idea of a drawing based around this for a while now#(warning gore in tags ahead)#It was Lance Allura Kuron with their past dead selves.#Kuron was holding his bleeding chained past self protectively ready to attack.#Allura was sitting behind her statue in its shadow and holding wilting juniberry flowers#Lance had his back turned towards the viewer standing infront of three graves 2 of them dugged open#He had shovel in one hand and cut off head of his younger self in other#<=gore over#Thanks for asking!!!!!
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Darlin’
pt 2
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (right now there is nothing romantic, maybe in the future I am undecided.)
Description: After being captured by some cowboys, reader ends up in front of a ghoul and fearing for her life.
Notes: This is awful I apologize in advance. Please let me know what you think. This is just setting it up for the real story.
I sighed as I stumbled behind my captors. I am not even sure how you ended up in this situation. One day I woke up next to my fire surrounded by three cowboys, smiling menacing at me. Next thing I know my hands are tied and I am being forced to follow them everywhere. I heard them talking about a "last bounty" and rolled my eyes. I know their type, there is never really a last bounty.
It was night-time as we made our way to the graveyard, I was so tense you shuffled stiffly behind their leader as he tugged on the rope connecting the two of you.
"He's the best bounty hunter there is." Their leader rambles on. To be honest, I wasn't listening.
"How do we know which grave?" One of his companions asked.
"Well, Slim we look for the fresh one." He responded. "Dom Pedro has our friend dug up once a year. Cuts some pieces off and then puts him right back in the ground."
"That's awful," I mumble.
The four of us stop in front of the graveyard and see a cross with two bags of Rad-X hung above it. "Bingo." Their leader says.
"Shit." Slim replies. "You are telling me the supreme badass we're looking for is a godforsaken mutant?"
"Are you really going to let out a ghoul?" I asked, exasperated by the whole ordeal.
"Have some respec'!" Their leader interrupted. "That is your prospective coworker you's talking about Slim. And our ticket to a big payoff. And you -" He said turning around to me, "You's better keep your mouth shut. Who knows what he does with little girls like you? I imagine we will let him do whatever he likes." He growled.
"I thought you said you knew this guy?" His other companion asked.
"I said I knew of him. My pop worked with him once." He shrugged.
"Your pop?" His companion asked breathlessly. "How long's this asshole been moulderin' in the ground?"
"How do we know he's not feral?" Slim asked, obviously afraid.
"That is why we brought our little friend." Their leader said as he pulled out a cage with a chicken in it from behind his poncho. "A feral ghoul can't abide a chicken. If he goes for her, we kill him."
"Just like that?" I asked dryly. I knew this band of idiots barely stood a chance, and that this was likely where I would die.
"Shut up," Slim said before he grabbed a shovel and started to big. "Should make the bitch dig." He said turning to his friend who just laughed in response.
Some time later they finally had dug up the coffin. It was surrounded by chains, obviously keeping something strong within. I couldn't help the chill that ran up my spine. I looked over at the chicken tied to a stake and couldn't help but wonder, am I bait too? Is that why they brought me here?
The three of them watched with bated breath as they opened the coffin from afar, but I couldn't stand to watch and just kept staring down at the chicken at my feet. Their leader gave the rope tied to the coffin one last tug and it finally swung open.
A ghoul stumbles out of the coffin, groaning and coughing and cracking his bones. He obviously hadn't been let out in a long time. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. If he truly wasn't feral, then there was a person in there.
"Well well well." The ghoul finally spoke. "Why is this an Amish production of The Count of Monte Cristo or… just the weirdest circle jerk i've ever been invited to?"
I couldn't help the snort that escaped my mouth. His attention was then brought to me as I stood mostly hidden behind the leader of the gang.
After a brief silence, the leader started laughing as well, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. "Welcome back. I'm Honcho. Now you don't even know us-"
"No." The ghoul interrupted. "I do not." His gaze then moved down to the chicken. He slowly approached as he licked his lips in anticipation.
The four of us moved back in fear as he picked up the chicken.
"Does that count?" Slim asked. "Should I shoot him?"
"Would you shut the fuck up," Honcho responded. "We-uh, we got a proposition for you." He said as he moved his attention back to the ghoul. "A bounty came down. A huge one. Enough to be a last score for me and whoever's with me. Yeah. Now, somebody made a run from the enclave." He said pulling out a sketch of the bounty and his furry friend.
"Now what makes you think I'd give a good goddamn about that?" The ghoul asked, obviously not interested in the bounty.
It ain't where he's running from I figured you'd be interested in." Honcho said confidently. "It's where he's running to. That witch Moldaver in California. That's where you from ain't it?" He smiled. "Originally I mean."
The ghoul stared him down for a moment. "Now, what the fuck would you know about where I'm from?"
I tried to swallow but my throat was so dry from fear that it was painful. I slowly took a step back from Honcho. I could feel that this was going to go bad quick.
"Well that don't sound like gratitude, do it, boys? Honcho responded with a sour tone in his voice. "How about we put you right back in that hole so Dom Pedro can have his fun with you for the next thirty years?"
The ghoul smirked as he looked between the 3 cowboys, amused with Honcho's confidence. "Well, I'll tell you what boys, whenever somebody says they're doing one last job, that usually means their heart's not in it. Probably never was." He said as he kneeled back down to the chicken. "But for me? Well, I do this shit for the love of the game."
It was barely a second before he had his lasso around Honcho, easily pulling him off his feet and throwing him across the graveyard. I stumbled behind him a couple of feet before the rope he was holding came loose and I fell to the ground. I stayed down and covered my head as I heard gunshots and the two boys falling to the ground. I slowly looked up at the ghoul who was staring down at me with a blank expression before turning his attention back to Honcho.
"You are right, friend, about one thing. This right here? Was your last job." The ghoul said while aiming his gun at the cowboy. "My paycheck wasn't quite what you expected, but, well you know what they say. Us cowpokes.."
"Wait! The girl! I brought her for you! Thought you might be hungry." Honcho mumbled around the rope in his mouth. I was barely able to understand him, but it looked like the ghoul did.
He stopped and turned around to look at me again. I stared back at him in horror, still on my stomach in the mud. "Well, that's no way to treat a lady." He smiled threateningly before turning back to his target, shooting the rope holding up his coffin, and watched as it dragged Honcho into the ground. "Us cowpokes, we take it as it comes." He finished.
Without a word he picked up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and walked right past me.
I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I knew that I didn't want to be left alone. "Wait!" I said before I even knew what I was doing.
He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around to look at me.
"I'll die out here on my own," I whispered. "I could lead you to the bounty. There is information that the idiots didn't share with you. I could help."
At this, he turned to look at me and crouched in front of my kneeling body. "I know exactly where I am going darlin'." He responded. "I don't need your help."
"But I do!" I said as I gave him the best puppy dog eyes I could muster as I held up my still-bound wrists.
He scoffed before looking up at the sky. "No." He said before getting up and walking away.
#fallout#fallout tv series#cooper Howard#cooper Howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul fallout
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Can be seen as a part 2 to this fic (after some time has passed that is) or can be read as a stand-alone.
“Leave me alone human!”
“For someone who is chained to the ground and gravely injured, you’re pretty loud.”
“I’ll rip you from limb to limb.”
“Why don’t you get better first before we get there hmm?”
General Lilia Vanrouge screeched at you in the fae language, some of which you knew were curses. Ah yes, you can’t wait to make fun of your Lilia when you get back to your time. His cursing while playing video games had you easily recognizing some of them now.
Luckily for you and your ears, the General wore himself out. The wounds from the iron and those of the battles weakened him.
It didn’t help that he also had a fever as a result. You were put in this cell to help him recover. Humpty Dumpty- well, King Henrik, implied it was the least you could do.
A random human that was pick up by his men, who was using valuable resources that could go to his soldiers instead. Never mind the fact that you helped treat said soldiers and gather said resources.
The Knight of Dawn had clenched his fist, about to speak up on your behalf. But you simply grabbed his hand and shook your head. It wasn’t worth it. King Henrik would just make his life harder for talking back, and you didn’t want that. The Knight of Dawn dealt with enough, you didn’t want to add onto his troubles.
…But you also didn’t realize that meant staying locked up in this cell with General Lilia Vanrouge either.
The General wasn’t exactly happy when he first met you, and you couldn’t blame him. You just weren’t used to the open hatred from familiar eyes you would see everyday. Eyes that were always friendly to you, now burned you.
The first time you tried to provide him treatment, he had fought back until his wounds weakened him to an unconscious state. You had silently treated him then. Not a soul a witness to your tears.
As the weeks passed, the General gradually stopped fighting back, probably due to his weakening state…it didn’t shut his mouth though funny enough.
You were only let out for a change of clothes, a bath, a proper meal, and a bed to sleep in every few days. Even then, King Henrik made it seem as if that was too good for you.
You later found out it was due to the Knight of Dawn’s request that you were even allowed such accommodations. Your heart ached at the idea of what he must have gone through to get you this, as you knew King Henrik did not treat him well.
You breathed softly, you wished you could return home soon.
You were dressing a wound on Lilia when you felt him stir.
“Melea…Le…B…”
You took a wet cloth and wiped his forehead.
He must be dreaming about his family.
You knew all would be well in the future, but that didn’t mean current events didn’t affect you.
It hurt you to see so many struggle in a useless war, due to greed from one man.
Lilia clutched at his stomach, his sharp claw like nails reopening the wounds you had painstakingly bandaged.
You quickly grabbed his hands and sucked in a breath of pain. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. His grip could break your bones to tiny, incomprehensible pieces, but you held on.
You knew he wanted to be free and return home, to protect his loved ones. You were determined to heal him for that very reason.
“Damn it Lilia Vanrouge! You will get through this! You have so much to look forward to. So many people who love you! Now, stop being a prick and let me go so I can treat you!”
Surprisingly, he let you go. You ignored your bleeding, aching hands in order to reseal his wound.
“…will you be in that future?”
You froze, turning and looking into feverish eyes.
“Yes.”
General Lilia Vanrouge fell into a deep sleep for the next 10 days.
You were returning to Lilia’s cell when a knife was held to your neck.
“Human, where is the fae you captured?”
Ah, it seems rescue finally arrived for Lilia. It took them long enough.
You looked up into hardened, familiar eyes. Baul Zigvolt would have been a sight for sore eyes if he didn’t, you know, have a knife to your throat.
“I would gladly show you if you take that knife away.”
“You-”
“Besides, I was heading right in that direction. If you don’t want to be caught, you better hurry.”
You continued walking, listening to Baul grumble about frustrating humans. You couldn’t help the slight smile on your face as you remembered similar words said by his grandson.
You led Baul quickly and quietly to the cell that practically became a second home to you. No one in sight. You had noticed, unlike the men that the Knight of Dawn commanded, the men directly under King Henrik were…well, just like him: sleazy and lazy.
They let their guards down thinking The Right General of the Fae was too weak and couldn’t take any of them on. They even implied you were nothing but a sacrificial lamb should said Fae get angry, but of course, they would rescue you at a price.
It took you all you could not to spit in their faces or smash their heads on the wall. The self defense lessons Silver and Sebek taught you provided security that you would forever be grateful for.
It was due to this fatal thinking that Baul was able to infiltrate the base, as the men went to seek entertainment elsewhere.
When you arrived, you opened the cell door quietly so as to not hurt sensitive ears. The sun was high enough for the cell to be well lit.
You heard Baul hiss in anger before rushing to his general’s side. Lilia didn’t seem surprised to see him, telling you how he must have always known rescue would come for him.
“General!”
“Careful! You’ll-”
Baul recoiled from the burns the iron chains struck at him.
“I tried to warn you.” You shook your head. You sat next to Lilia, taking his hand in yours. From the corner of your eye, you could see Baul tense but Lilia motioned for him to remain calm.
You picked at the lock. Another thing to be thankful for, your lock picking skills, which you learned quickly from days you were locked outside of Ramshackle Dorm because Grim forgot the key or the door just wouldn’t open.
“You got it in one go this time.”
“I told you I had surprises up my sleeves. I just needed the right tools.”
“Hmm, so you say.”
Baul looked at both of you as if you both at grown two heads each. Lilia noticed his look and waved towards his feet. Where chains that should have been locked were open.
“Any longer, Baul, and I would have rescued myself.”
Baul stammered before apologizing. You turned away to hide your smile.
Within moments, the atmosphere changed. General Lilia Vanrouge had to escape and return to his men.
“Leave.”
“What?”
“You have to leave. You need to return to your troops."
Lilia clenched his jaw, looking at you. You couldn't return with him; you both knew that. It didn't stop him from trying, but you shook your head before he could even open his mouth.
"I can't go with you."
A human amongst the fae would not last long, at least not now. There was too much hatred.
You took the cuffs that had been his tormentor for so long and locked them around your hands. You chose to ignore the angry growl Lilia tried to hide at the sight of the cuffs now imprisoning you.
"I'll make it look like you escaped, now go."
"They'll hurt you."
You shook your head.
"The Knight of Dawn would never let that happen."
He knew you were right. The Knight of Dawn had visited several times, helping you treat his wounds and restrain him when the fever would have him lash out at you.
The Knight of Dawn had honor, as a fellow general and soldier, Lilia respected him for it. Lilia pulled one of his magic stones off his belt before offering it to you.
"Take this. Smash it to the ground if you need help, I'll find you."
You agreed and watched the two soldiers turn to leave. General Lilia Vanrouge hesitated before speaking, "You told me you would be in my future."
"I will be."
"You better keep that promise, YN."
"I will."
General Lilia Vanrouge and Baul Zigvolt vanished from your sight.
I'll see you both soon.
Part 3 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.
Author’s Notes: I can’t believe this became a 1.5k fic, the way this bat fae drives me crazy. 😂💞🌺
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia vanrouge#twst lilia vanrouge#twisted wonderland x you#twst x you#Lilia Vanrouge x you#lilia x you#lilia x reader#baul zigvolt#twst knight of dawn#general lilia vanrouge#general lilia vanrouve x reader#general lilia vanrouge x reader
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A TEST OF FAITH.
SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE PRIEST’S DAUGHTER, SWEET AND INNOCENT AND FREE FROM SIN. UNTIL JEFFREY WALKED IN AND TURNED YOUR WORLD UPSIDE DOWN.
FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER
WARNINGS 、FINGERING (M -> F), PUBLIC FINGERING, BLASPHEMY, RELIGION KINK, CORRUPTION KINK
NOTES 、i gotta thank my lovely mutual @hysterotic for helping me flesh out ideas for this one. love you babe also depending on how well this does. i’ll do part 2 LMFAO
The air is tense on the ride to church. The sun casts the world in a warm glow as it slowly rises beyond the horizon and you keep your eyes fixated on the blur of trees passing by as your father drives and taps his finger impatiently on the steering wheel.
You sigh softly and look into the rear view mirror at his reflection. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” You ask gently and you hear your father sigh almost tiredly.
“Nothing, sweetheart it’s just…” He contemplates it for a moment before shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t want you feeling burdened in any way this morning.” It’s Sunday, of course he didn’t want you feeling anything but the spirit of the Heavenly Father washing over you.
You hum rather defeatedly, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and staring out the window once more. “Mkay..” You mumble out, saddened your father didn’t feel like he could share whatever wad weighing hard on him but maybe the Lord could help ease the heavy feeling he has today. You close your eyes and say a small prayer just as you feel the familiar turn onto the gravely trail that leads up to the church you’ve spent your entire life going to.
The pearly white chapel comes into view and your eyes gravitate to the sight, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you see other members pulling up around the same time as you and your father and mother. You sit up straight as your father parks the car and tugs the keys out, fixing your sundress as you wait patiently for your father to exit first before following soon after.
The familiar faces by the church, idly chatting all turn and smile at the sight of you. The older women compliment you, saying you look like an angel as always in those pretty sundresses you always wore.
You’d giggle bashfully in response to their compliments, cheeks warm to the touch as you thank them and compliment them back before the sound of a loud rumble echoes out and you turn to look over your shoulder at the road as a noisy motorcycle pulls into the spot beside your parents’ car. You squint your eyes due to the harsh brightness of the morning sun peeking through the distant trees and into your field of vision as you try to get a good look at the individual. It’s hard to see much until the person gets off the bike shortly after and starts coming toward you.
“For christ— Ahem, you took your sweet time getting here didn’t you, son?” A loud voice from behind you speaks up. You notice the way your father seems to hold a cold stare you’ve almost never seen on his face before as he watches the guy approaching you chuckle, a deep rumbly sound that has you surprised to hear such a deep voice.
“Took the scenic route.” He says with a grin in his voice and as the bright leaks of sunlight hide behind his tall frame, you finally get a good look at his face. And boy did you feel your heartbeat quicken.
His eyes look down into yours and you instantly tear your stare away and focus on the ground beneath you. Grass has never looked so greener before until now.
Your father reluctantly shakes hands with the guy whose appearance is not very fitting, nor would you consider it appropriate for church service. The black ripped jeans with a chain dangling on them, dirtied combat boots, a learner jacket on and somewhat hiding the black band tee he wore underneath. It had a print of a music band you’ve never heard of and it left you feeling curious. You’ve never heard such music before. Anything remotely inappropriate or dark and taboo wasn’t allowed in your parents’ house.
You feel like you’ve stared for too long and look over to your mother for guidance and she gives you a knowing look before subtly glancing at the church doors. You excuse yourself but shortly after, everyone else is coming into the quiet place and the sounds of footsteps and quiet chatter echo throughout the building. You take a seat on the long bench you’ve always sat at while your mother sits on the other side of the church at a different place. You see the man that had talked rather loudly behind you earlier come in along with who you presume is his wife and a rather young looking teenage boy, but where was the motorcycle guy that he had called ‘son’?
“Hey,” Your eyes widen at the sound of a low and deep voice in your ear and you whip your head around to look to your side where you see the aforementioned motorcycle guy. His black hair frames around his face and he smirks at you. “Did I scare ya?”
You blink a few times before shaking your head, mumbling a soft ‘no’ in response to which he chuckles at before letting his arm rest on the back of the bench, nudging your shoulders ever so slightly but you try to ignore it. Your father however is practically staring daggers into the boy when nobody’s eyes are on him before he stands up and prepares to start the day’s service.
You try to scoot away from the strange guy, keeping your eyes on those that sing and you can feel his eyes on and it makes goosebumps rise along your arms.
Suddenly you’re asked to sing and you feel your heart drop to the floorboards. You’ve never felt so nervous in all your life, it was something you were always asked to do by other members of the church so why did it feel so scary to do all of a sudden? Was it because of the mysterious boy beside you? Who knows. You swallow thickly, standing up with a tremble in your legs and hands so you grip onto the bench in front of you. You clear your throat quietly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats so wildly and so hard it makes your throat want to close up on you. You manage to start singing a hymn, one that everyone seemed to love hearing you sing the most and as you let your eyes flutter closed you relax your nerves and let the words flow through you and out into the world.
It’s only a few short minutes and then you’re politely sitting down but as you do so you feel something against the side of your thigh and see his own pressed snug against yours. Did he move closer or did you accidentally sit too close? You apologize in a whisper, trying to move away but he shakes his head at you with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nah, I don’t mind, angel.” He says back, a whisper in a low voice only you could hear and it makes your heart flutter with an unfamiliar feeling as you force your attention back to those around you as people begin to testify.
You’re so focused on them all, nodding and feeling the spirit seep into your being that you don’t notice the unfamiliar touch against your dress as something slides up your thigh. It makes you tense up for a second when you realize and you glance at the guy who’s seemingly leaning a little too close for comfort but it would appear to others that he’s just trying to see the individuals that stand up and testify better.
“Don’t let temptation distract you from the words of God, doll.” He whispers with a grin on his face, eyes flicking down to your doe eyes that tear themselves away from his face and over to the other people.
He was right. No matter what he was doing, whatever it might’ve been… It was just the devil trying to keep you in his hold. Yet it was so hard to focus when the pads of his fingers grazed over your panties making you shiver slightly.
You didn’t know what he was doing. You’ve never been touched anywhere by anyone before, especially down there, but it was a rather nice and foreign feeling that you found yourself wanting just a little more of. Unconsciously, your legs spread just enough to let his hand cup your clothed sex and he rubs his index and middle against your panties until he feels a damp patch that makes him bounce his knee to keep himself from dragging your foolishly innocent self out of the church and fucking you in the bathroom.
Your father mentions an individual’s name for them to lead into prayer and everyones, including your own, heads turn down and al eyes are closed as silence envelopes the church and the only voice heard is a wretched sinner crying out for the Heavenly Father as he gets on his knees and prays.
You’re focused on listening to his words, feeling the pain he’s burdened with carrying as your brows knit together and you listen thoughtfully. Then something cold and foreign pushed against your nether regions and your thighs twitch as your eyes open and you glance to the guy beside you. He grins sinisterly, like he was the devil incarnate and you shiver under his gaze.
“Listen to ‘im, angel. Hear the cries of a fellow sinner and pay attention.” He whispers with a sick chuckle as he pushes his digit into your warmth and nudges it against your gummy walls. It’s uncomfortable for a few seconds, a new and foreign feeling you’ve never felt before but you unknowingly clench around him as he begins to pump it at a rather quick pace that has pleasure tingling in your gut suddenly as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out whatever he was doing to you in attempts to distract you.
Was it wrong? Was this something bad that he was doing to you? You didn’t know and couldn’t find the right answer you tried to search for in your mind. Whatever it was, it had a great effect on you and when you opened your eyes and prayer ended, tears blurred your vision but not from the Holy Spirit overwhelming you, oh no, it was that guy’s hand that overwhelmed you.
A tight coil burns hot in your belly as your legs tremble and you force yourself to straighten up and stare onward as your father stood to his feet and started to preach. Your mind was clouded, hazy and lagged behind on the words and sounds that met your ears but the warm breath tickling the side of your neck kept you alert and on edge in more ways than one.
You bite your bottom lip, trying to hear your father’s words as it touches the souls of many in the church. Your brows twitch, eyes gliding over the various people and a wave of feel-good tingles seeps into your being and your eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft sigh leaving you glossy lips.
Your father’s preaching reaches its peak just as your thighs squeeze around the strange guy’s hand tightly, as if they never wanted him to leave and then euphoria washes over you. Like being hit by the Holy Spirit, your body tenses up and warmth floods your being as a sharp but quiet gasp leaves you and you curl in on yourself, hands gripping the cushion of the bench by your thighs. You heave quick breaths, heart racing in your chest as those digits curl into something incredibly sensitive inside of you before pulling away and you’re left feeling empty and exhausted.
You watch with half lidded eyes as he raises his hand up towards his face, it’s glistening with something slick on it and you wonder if it came from you. The thought embarrassed you to no end and when he popped the digits into his mouth, sucking the substance off them and then grinning at you as he shoved his hand into his pocket, it made you feel pulled towards him as if you couldn’t get enough despite knowing he was no good for you.
Your cheeks feel warm to the touch, cupping your hands against the hot flesh as you try to slow your breathing and shortly after, church has ended and people are socializing outside. You muster up the strength to stand on legs wobbly like a newborn fawn, hearing that boy chuckle at you as he gets up and walks away like nothing had happened. It saddens you a bit, you had felt some type of connection because of that strange interaction with him but you try to ignore it and move on just like he was so easily able to.
You manage to get out of the church, heading for the car earlier than your parents would’ve liked. You felt so lightheaded you just needed somewhere a little more private to cool off for some reason. You don’t get there in time before that boy is reaching you however.
“Aw, leavin’ already?” He’s teasing, he knows he’s the reason you feel so odd right now and the more you look at him the more you want to cling onto him. Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill your head, inappropriate and so lewd it makes you shiver with a mix of disgust and embarrassment directed toward yourself.
“I just need to cool off.. It’s warm out today.” You try to reason, voice a bit strained and shaky as you try to stand up straight but it’s obvious you’re a horny wreck in his eyes and he chuckles at you.
“S’that it? Just got too hot?” He takes a few steps towards you, an unreadable look in his eyes and you struggle to hold his gaze as you fumble over your words until he’s got you cornered with your back against the car. Those wide doe eyes, glassy with need, almost gets under his skin. He grins and it makes your stomach do flips when he looks at you that way. “Y’sure it’s not because I touched ya right here?” His hand forces its way between your trembling thighs and nudges against your nether regions making your breath hitch in your throat as you stare at him completely stunned.
Your hands grab at his wrist, shaky and weak as you attempt to pull him off but he only stops terrorizing your poor little innocent heart when he hears footsteps approaching.
He pulls away, straightening his posture while you push yourself off the car slowly as if you were in a daze at the moment.
“Is something wrong?” It’s your father, concern laced in his voice as he gives you a protective glance and moves towards you all while giving the boy an odd look.
The black haired guy scoffs with a smirk. “Nah, was j’st talkin’ to her is all.” He says it in a way that’s either condescending, sarcastic or as if he wasn’t saying the full truth. It’s hard for your brain to decipher properly anyways as your eyes bore into the grass beneath you, looking at anything but him.
“I’d much rather prefer if you didn’t speak to my daughter, Jeff Mason.” Your father says and it’s only now that you’ve learned the guy’s name. Your eyes flicker up to his face only to find him already looking back and shyness gets to you, making you tear your gaze from his.
There seems to be a tension between your father and Jeff, a staring contest ensues for a few moments that begin to feel like hours until that man you’d heard speaking before church comes up to the three of you.
He forces a smile and puts a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, squeezing a little too tight. “Jeffrey here will be sure to do that. Won’t you, son?” There’s an underlying authority to his voice as he looks at Jeff who glares back silently before shaking his hand off and walking towards his motorcycle with not a single word to follow.
The middle aged man chuckles awkwardly and tries to make small talk with your father but it doesn’t do much, if anything it would seem your father didn’t like either of them and that made you more curious than it should have.
You walk around the car to get into the car without disrupting their— very tense and awkward —conversation, trying to ignore Jeff who’s standing by his bike with his eyes glued onto you.
“Hey, Mary.” He calls out and you blink a few times before turning to look at him. He grins, “Yeah, you.”
“That’s.. That’s not my name, Jeff.” You didn’t even mean to say his name. It just spilled out by accident, he repeats the way you say it on loop in his head immediately.
“Sure it isn’t.” He grins with a teasing tone and crosses his arms as he looks you up and down slowly, undressing you with his eyes but you’re none the wiser. He finally looks at your face and smiles wickedly. “I’ll see ya around won’t I, angel?”
Your hold on the handle of the car door tightens a bit at the way he says it, heart fluttering in your chest and your knees weak. You feel a little bold, taking a deep breath as you hold his gaze. “Are you implying you’ll come to visit more often?” You meant the church, it’s obvious in the way you say it that you meant it in a church setting. But Jeff is far too sick and twisted to accept it as just that and that alone.
He chuckles at you, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “Heh, y’gonna see me a lot more often than just here.”
#jeff mason x reader#jeff mason smut#creepypasta jtk#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x y/n#jeff the killer x you#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer x y/n#jeff the killer smut#jeff the killer#jtk x reader
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The Accident (Pt. 2)
Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: At least you did something...
TW: VERY DARK!!!!
Part 1
"She isn't making any progress. We've tried everything from electroshock therapy to simply giving her a journal to write her feelings."
You could hear your personal therapist talking to your husband...well ex husband by now. Your marriage died the day he put you in this damn place. What place? None other than Arkham Asylum. At first he could live with what you did, he understood what you did. Everyone understood why you did it, but what happened after...he couldn't live with it.
Bruce watched as his wife shut down. You became a shell of what you once were. The warm, welcoming mother that everyone knew you to be died. Something cold, and sinister was left in her place. The Gotham criminals began to fear you more than Batman himself. Batman held back...he pulled his punches. You...you didn't. You couldn't. This life, the scum of Gotham took your son away from you. How could Bruce just sit there and be okay with it?
Everything came to a boiling point when he walked into the manor with his newest sidekick, Tim Drake...
"Y/N, this is Tim Drake. He will be assisting us in our...work." Bruce said and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder. Instead of a warm greeting or a smile that one usually got when meeting Y/N Wayne, Tim got a stone cold glare.
"Jason's grave isn't even covered in grass, and you're already replacing him?" You growled as you stood from your seat on the couch. Tim flinched at your tone, and moved back a bit. He heard such good things about you. This wasn't how he was expecting things to go.
"Good job Bruce, get another kid...let's see how long he lasts before he's in the grave too." You spat before storming off. That night, you chose to go on patrol alone. While Bruce and Tim were doing their own thing, you were spending your night alone. As you sat perched on a ledge, watching the city that you've grown to hate, all you could think of was Tim. How could Bruce just move on so quickly? You weren't surprised. He spent most of that night scolding you and lecturing you for nearly killing the Joker. Now the bastard was in a coma, and you wished he was dead.
The sound of a woman screaming knocked you from your thoughts, and you looked down seeing the said woman blocking her young child from an attacker. You don't know what happened at that moment, but something snapped. You weren't going to let another mother's heart be broken, or the child's. No more families were going to be broken because of scum like this. You blacked out again, and this time you came to be pinned to the brick wall by Batman. Robin was hovering over the man you'd just beaten. He pressed two fingers to his neck then looked at Batman. Robin shook his head, and then looked at you. Instead of horror, or remorse...you smirked, "At least I did something." You whispered to your husband.
Now here you were, wasting away in the cells of Arkham. Eating food that was stale, and cold. It made you miss Alfred's cooking. Several inmates tried to gang up on you, and quickly learned why that was a bad idea.
"The doctors are beginning to fear her. She's got a rage inside of her that can't be tamed. Whatever set her off...doesn't seem to want to fade away." Your therapist looked over at you, chained to the table that you were forced to sit at. Bruce clenched his jaw as he looked at you. You'd lost weight, and your face was sunken in. You looked half dead.
"Then we'll find something new. I'm not giving up on her. If you can't help her, then I'll have to find someone who can." Bruce snapped. He knew that keeping you here would kill you in the end. You weren't made for a place like this. He wanted you home with him and Alfred. It was where you belonged.
Little did he know that the solution to his problem was going to be solved...
It would be several weeks later, close to when visiting hours would end. You were sitting in your cell with your back facing the door when you heard it open.
"Mom?"
That voice made your entire body go cold. Yes the tone was deeper, and a little gravely, but you knew that voice. The Gotham accent...it couldn't be anyone else. Slowly your head turned, and you nearly fainted when your eyes met the ones staring back at you...
To be continued...
(I know most wanted a pt.2 with Jason's reaction, but I got a little carried away lol. I promise I will make a pt.3 with his reaction!)
#batmom imagines#batfam x reader#bruce wayne x reader#batmom#batman#damian wayne x reader#bruce wayne#red hood#robin#tim drake x reader#jason todd x reader#jason todd x batmom#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson x batmom#batmom x batfam#dc comics#nightwing#batman x reader#bruce wayne x you#dc x reader#dc batman
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Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 1/2)
Inspired by this braindead rejected soulmates au post by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2. More art at the end!
Part II
Tim slumped down on the edge of an apartment building, leaning his weight against the rooftop’s fence. The alleyways below were deserted, criminals retreating to get a couple hours of sleep before sunrise. A perfect setting to catch a breather before ending his patrol for the night.
The Red Robin suit still felt wrong on him. He thought waiting a week to get accustomed to it would help, but he might have made a mistake when he tried to adjust it to be as close to his Robin uniform as possible without it being obvious. He’d have to remember to alter it further the next time he got the chance, to see if wearing something entirely different would finally make him stop checking the shadows for Bruce. Patrolling Gotham alone felt too much like admitting he was really gone.
Just as he was about to move on, the rooftop access door slammed open.
Tim nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around, ready to either apologize, attack, or flee, when he met familiar glowing green eyes.
Subconsciously, he let himself breathe easy as he took in the other’s appearance.
Phantom was an anomaly at the best of times. A phantom thief by definition, the criminal had simply appeared one day to cause chaos—lingering only to taunt his pursuers as he made a daring escape with whatever priceless treasure of the month. His motives were unknown, as was virtually anything about him besides his calling card (a green sticky note with nothing but ‘BOO’ written in permanent black marker), appearance, and a meta ability to phase through objects.
Of course, one couldn’t be a phantom thief without a detective rival (or so the thief in question claimed). For some reason, Phantom had outright declared not Batman, but Robin for the role. Tim couldn’t count how many sleepless nights were spent chasing after him, face red from a mixture of exertion and embarrassment. Because it wasn’t enough for the admittedly good-looking criminal roughly his age to run circles around him. No, the jerk had to go out of his way to flirt with him the whole time.
He hadn’t even thought about how Phantom would react to there being a new Robin. But looking at him now, a small part of Tim couldn’t help but feel selfishly glad. From what he could see of the furious expression on his shadowed face and glowing eyes, it wasn’t hard to see that Phantom was taking the change about as well as Tim was.
“I leave for two weeks, and suddenly there’s a new Batman and Robin?! What the fuck, Detective—you’d think to at least have the decency to tell a guy, but nooo, I had to find out through goddamn Victor Fries!”
Tim blinked, “Didn’t Mr. Freeze retire after someone brought his wife back?”
Phantom paused his fury, shrugging a bit. “Nora keeps track of everything happening in Gotham in case something her husband did to save her comes back to bite them.”
“Huh.”
“Anyway! It took me going after Victor to ask why there was a new Robin for me to hear that the actual Batman was dead, Gotham went berserk for a while as every other guy tried to take up the position, and somewhere along the lines you got the grand idea to add ‘red’ to your name! Which makes no sense, since you practically lived for that mantle and I would’ve bet that you’d take it past the grave if given the chance.”
Tim winced. As per usual, Phantom’s words hit home in more ways than intended.
The thief stopped short, the glowing of his eyes intensifying as he looked over Tim’s new identity. Tim didn’t move as soundless footsteps strode forward, not even pausing as Phantom phased through the chain link fence to sit a couple feet away from him.
He could count on one hand the number of times Phantom had done this. One second they’d be exchanging insults, and then suddenly the criminal would stop and stare, feeling like he was gazing into the depths of Tim’s very soul. Each time, he called off their chase, insisting that Tim take a break and talk to someone about whatever was troubling him. It was uncanny how he could somehow tell when Tim’s negative feelings were overwhelming his rational thought—Batman himself would use Phantom encounters to measure Tim’s wellbeing at times.
Looking back, it was odd how Phantom would insert himself into every aspect of Robin’s life, but back off the second he sensed something was wrong. He’d call attention to whenever Tim was particularly anxious, once even physically dragging Bruce over to ‘talk to your son when he’s sad’, but never offer any comfort himself. But here they were, Phantom obviously seeing something Tim could never hope to conceal, with no Bruce nearby to summon and make things better.
Tim’s throat clogged at the reminder of yet another little thing Bruce might never get to do again. He couldn’t be dead, not with how many times Tim checked the body and struggled to recognize the man who’d become like a father to him.
“...I…I know we’re not exactly friends, Detective. But if you need to get something off your chest, I swear to never use it against you.” Phantom fidgeted with his cloak. From this close a distance, Tim could see the faint glimmer of sparkling purple constellations embroidered on the inside. For some reason, the sight of the soft fabric never failed to calm his nerves.
(It reminded him of a time long ago, when he held a gel ink pen and asked a mystery person to quit whatever they were doing that left his arms covered in star charts that didn’t match anything in the Earth’s night sky.)
He didn’t dare force himself to speak, for fear he might break this tentative peace. Thankfully, Phantom seemed to be taking initiative that night.
“...did you know that I used to be a teen hero?”
Tim’s head jerked upright, meeting Phantom’s eyes. It was impossible to tell exactly what expression he was making behind the mask, but he got a sense of bitter nostalgia. “You never talk about your past.”
A scoff, “Yeah, ‘cause it’s depressing as fuck. Not exactly the sort of thing you can talk about causally.”
He chewed his lip, thinking. “Your suit…minus the cloak, it looks reminiscent of a uniform.”
Phantom fiddled with a cylinder hooked on his belt. It was the only piece of tech visible on his person, a modified soup thermos that somehow served as a near infinite item storage. Impressive, if not odd.
“Yeah, the cloak is more of a blanket than anything else. I added it on when I got tired of looking at the same clothes I used to save my hometown in. It…I didn’t become a hero for fame. It was more trouble than it was worth, honestly. You guys nowadays have so much better support systems than when I was in the business. Makes me wonder if…” he trailed off.
“...why’d you stop?” Tim asked gently, more than willing to throw himself into this new mystery now that he knew it was there.
“It was too much. Everyone wanted me gone, even the people I was protecting. I was hated for my powers, for not always being on the scene when I was needed, for not ending fights faster and for the property damage my villains caused. I didn’t live in a place with metahuman protection laws. The few people that knew my secret identity got tired of superhero life and ditched the first chance they got.” He sighed, “I was hurting, and was desperate for a way out.”
Tim frowned, “So you moved to Gotham and started stealing?”
Phantom snorted. “Nah, I was fucked up for a while after I ran away. It’s funny, one of my rogues was the first to track me down and drag me to a hospital to get my injuries checked. Like a dozen of them got together for an intervention, I thought I was finally losing my grip on reality. I spent a couple months recovering, then took one of them up on a suggestion to try causing trouble for a change. Not anything super bad, but…”
“...enough to feel more in control?” Tim suggested. It wasn’t uncommon for people in bad situations to commit minor crimes, both for the adrenaline and the power rush. Tim himself had once poured his whole soul into tracking and photographing Gotham’s nighttime birds. A hobby that was more than a bit cringe-worthy in hindsight, and definitely creepy considering how much effort he put into stalking his idols. Honestly his young age was the only reason he didn’t get put on a watchlist when he revealed himself to Bruce. That, and the whole I-know-your-secret-identity thing.
“Oof. Yeah, that’s a way to put it. Being hated hurt less when that’s what I was aiming for, y’know?”
Tim tilted his head. “I never hated you.”
A derisive laugh, “Uh-huh. And you loved being led on goose chases when there were more important ways to spend your time.”
“I’m serious.” Tim shifted so that he was better facing Phantom. He didn’t know why, but couldn’t stand the thought of Phantom leaving tonight convinced he was universally hated. “You only make a scene on quiet nights, and you always slowed down for me whenever I had to stop and intervene on some other crime. And you only target the private collections of rich people. Not anyone whose life would be ruined by something getting stolen. You even go out of your way to make sure the guards on duty don’t get in trouble, even when it puts you in a strategically worse position. And…”
He hesitated. Bruce wouldn’t approve…but then again, there was that weird relationship he had with Selina.
“And it was fun. To chase you. It was challenging and frustrating, but your appearance meant that there was nothing else to worry about that night. We could just run regular patrols.”
Oracle was the one to make the connection. Tim didn’t know where along the lines it became an accepted fact, only that Bruce was more comfortable about Robin patrolling alone when Phantom was making a move. A miracle considering what happened to the last one.
Phantom blinked, frowning a bit before his eyes went wide, a shaky smile forming on his lips. “Thanks…it was fun for me too. Kinda the whole reason I kept setting up scenes for Robin to find.”
Tim laughed. The sound startled both of them—he didn’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled like this. It had to be sometime before Bruce was gone, at least.
“So…” Phantom hopped down on the railing of a balcony below, balancing precariously in the way that only he could. He looked up at Tim with an easygoing smile that did little to hide the concern underneath. “As your self-proclaimed favorite rogue, wanna tell me what’s up with the sudden change?”
He shifted a bit, grin fading. “Well…Batman died. He was facing Darkseid and got hit. After the chaos died down, Nightwing took up the mantle and made Batman’s son the new Robin, to help him grieve or something.”
“I don’t know where to start with that.” Phantom adjusted his hood, briefly revealing tan skin underneath. “You sound like you didn’t have a say in it. Wasn’t Robin yours?”
Something bitter worked its way up through Tim’s chest. “It was a borrowed title anyway. I only took it up to help Batman, so it makes sense that I was dismissed—”
“No.”
“—after huh?”
Phantom strode up to him, poking a finger at his knee. “You love being Robin. You don’t have to justify losing your identity. It could’ve been taken in the name of world peace for all I care, that doesn’t make it any less shitty. You just lost someone super important to you, and your connection to them was taken because someone thought your grief was less important. I don’t care who the current one is, you are just as much Batman’s son.”
Tim couldn’t help the small sob that escaped. Or when it doubled, and tears started burning at his eyes. He rubbed at them in an attempt to stop them before they could make his mask go hot and sticky, but was startled out of it by a soft weight being thrown over him. He looked up to see Phantom leaning over him, securing the hood of his cloak over Tim’s own head.
“You looked like you needed some comfort. It’s weighted.” Phantom shrugged.
“...thanks.” Tim pulled it closer, more than happy to latch onto yet another new focus. “How do you move so easily in this? It feels like I’m being hugged by gravity.”
Phantom chuckled, and it was at that moment Tim suddenly realized the other was floating in the air over him. Since when has he been able to fly?
“I use intangibility a lot, but it’s not my only power. It felt like overkill to use more than that in my heists. So I didn’t.”
Tim groaned, “You were going easy on me this whole time?”
“Oh, definitely not. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but intangibility is arguably the most pain in the ass thing to counter. I’m being annoying on purpose.”
Phantom grinned, and Tim couldn’t help but analyze the full sight of him. Everything from his teeth to his ears was pointed, a sharp contrast to the wispy white hair that flowed smoothly in a nonexistent breeze. The most attention grabbing was a glowing green mark resembling a gash across his chest, roughly in the place where a hero would wear their logo. The sight of it made Tim’s own chest ache.
“I don’t think Batman is dead.” He said suddenly.
“What makes you say that?” Phantom asked, reclining on empty air.
It wasn’t denial, not calling him insane or lost in grief. For the first time since his fight with Dick, Tim felt as though he could breathe again. “I know it sounds crazy, there’s no proof—”
“Woah woah woah,” Phantom reached forward, gently pulling Tim’s hands away from where he had started pulling at his hair. “Slow down. Walk me through your thought process.”
“It just…it doesn’t feel right. Not that I can’t believe it if he died, but this specifically doesn’t feel right. I’d feel it if Br-Batman was dead…there was a whole cloning facility where Batman’s body was found.”
That seemed to spark interest in Phantom’s eyes. “You think the body was a clone?”
“Why would someone as powerful and precise as Darkseid drop everything and kill someone he was in the process of cloning? Why was he even trying to clone Batman specifically? We’re missing something, and I think Darkseid is using everyone’s grief to cover his plan.”
Phantom propped his chin on his hand, deep in thought. “Darkseid…I’ve heard that name before. Does he have something to do with time or space?”
Tim practically sagged in relief. “He can travel freely through both, and has a host of other abilities that give Superman a run for his money.”
He snapped his fingers, “Ah, that Darkseid! Yeah, if he wanted Bats dead there wouldn’t be a body left. I’d bet my collection he’s lost in time somewhere.”
“Thank you!” Tim gestured wildly, “You’re officially the first person to hear me out. Like, is it really so hard to believe?”
“No probs, Detect-o. It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard, by far.”
“Exactly,” Tim huffed, leaning back and sighing. “Now I just have to convince the Justice League so they can go back in time and grab him.”
“Why not just get him yourself?”
Tim glanced over to where Phantom hung in the sky. “Unless you’re also hiding time powers in there, we kinda need the League to get to him. Plus I don’t even know when in time he is.”
“Lucky for you, I know a guy,” Phantom grinned. “The Master of Time messaged me this mornin’, something about stopping Batman from breaking the time space continuum. It’s why I’m back in Gotham so soon.”
“You…know the Master of Time.”
“Yep!” He popped the p.
“And they messaged you.”
Phantom hummed, “You can imagine how it went when I tried to confront Batman a couple hours ago. The new Robin’s a menace, if I was any slower you’d have to deal with a Phantom shish kebab.”
Tim winced. It was never fun to be on the wrong end of Damian’s katana. Still, he focused back on the insanity at hand. “So you’re saying you can just go back and rescue Batman right now?”
“Now that I know what’s happening, yeah. Clocky probably already has a portal ready for me. Batman will be back before you can say ‘Gotham’!”
It was inconceivable. To think, the living nightmare of the past weeks would be over, just like that. His brain was screaming at him that this was some sort of cruel setup, that there was no way Phantom was telling the truth. There had to be a catch somewhere, some kind of punchline in the sick comedy that was the life of Tim Drake.
But his heart, the part of him that just wanted his dad back won out.
“What’s stopping you? You’re not usually one to wait for a window of opportunity.”
Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. “No, but I distinctly remember waiting for a certain vigilante. I was wondering if…you’d like to come with?”
Tim’s jaw dropped. “You’re inviting me, a vigilante who has attempted to arrest you dozens of times…to travel back in time to save Batman, another vigilante who has tried to put you under arrest.”
“Emphasis on tried,” Phantom joked, before turning serious. “I mean it—it’s your family. Besides, it could be fun. You come with me on a time heist, instead of sitting back here worrying your pretty head off with all the ways things could go wrong. And you get to tell everyone else ‘I told ya so’ when you save Batman on your own.”
He tried to work his mind through what Phantom was offering. To be able to fix things, maybe not go back to the way they used to be (Damian might actually kill him if he ever wore Robin again) but to have Bruce back. It wasn’t even a question.
No matter how smart Tim was, how he tried to plan things in advance the way Bruce did, he never stopped being the lonely kid who would sneak out at night to shadow his heroes. When Phantom reached out to offer a hand, Tim didn’t hesitate.
“You’re wrong, though.”
Phantom blinked, firmly gripping Tim’s hand without hurting him. “About what?”
“I wouldn’t be saving Batman on my own. We’d be doing it together.”
A fanged grin matched his own, blinding him to the swirling green portal that formed around them. Before Tim could so much as wonder if he maybe should’ve messaged someone about what he was setting off to do, they were already gone.
— - —
This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it got a bit long so I decided to split it up.
I really love this au, but I noticed that everyone has a tendency to hone in on the angst so much that the characters behind it get a bit lost in the process. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I wanted to try my hand at writing the misunderstandings without making either of them at fault.
(Insert rant about how the whole point of soulmates is that this person is a match for you, so even if you fundamentally are not good for each other you still get where the other person is coming from. There's so much more angst potential in not being able to hate someone no matter what they do to hurt you, but I digress.)
But yeah, let the boys heal and be happy! Also this is the closest I've gotten to actually writing romance and that's not saying much XD
Here's the design I drew for Phantom Thief!Danny. Feel free to drop an ask, I'd love to ramble more about this :D
#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc art#danny phantom#tim drake#red robin#brain dead#rejected soulmate au#danny x tim#i wrote this instead of studying for my midterm that's tomorrow#remember me fondly#my art#my fic
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Umbra et Ventus (Ⅲ)
Azriel x Reader
a/n: part 1 here. part 2 found here.
warnings: canon-typical themes, allusions to PTSD. Descriptions of blood, gore, violence. Reader was enslaved on the Continent, so there’ll be some description of that in this part.
requests are open, for headcanons or short blurbs/drabbles! Love you guys!!
“Focus, girl,” Amren hissed at you for the hundredth time. Part of you wished that your so-called power actually existed, if only to throw her ass over the nearest cliff.
The two of you had been at it all morning. You sat on the hardwood floor in the living room of the House of Wind. Amren stood across from you, repeating the same words: Focus. Breathe. Feel.
So you tried. You remained on your knees, palms upturned, eyes shut. You centered yourself, breathing slowly, steadily. Each attempt led you to a desolate part of yourself. A hollow space in your soul, long since forgotten.
And in that space, there was a kernel. A small, silvery flicker. But each time you reached for it, it strayed further. Just out of reach.
Scowling, you stood, bracing your hands on your hips. “What is the point of this?” You said to Amren. “You’ve known me for all of three days. You are second in command of the Night Court, and I am a nobody refugee. What is the point? Why me?”
Amren stared at first. Her gaze was almost terrifying, but you did not balk. Did not waver as you asked again, “What is the point?”
“The point, girl,” Amren began as she stood in front of you. “Is that your power is unlike anything I have sensed in my fifteen thousand years.”
You had to fight the urge to let your jaw drop to the ground. Fifteen thousand years.
Amren continued, “And I do not think it is mere coincidence that emissaries from the Continent show up, requesting the refugees be returned to them only days after you show up in Velaris.”
‘Them.’ Their masters. Their owners.
Your heart fell to your stomach. How had you not heard about this? You’d been in Velaris for almost two months, and yet—Madja. She’d kept this from you. To keep you from breaking any further.
You had the vague sense that Amren was speaking to you. But you couldn’t hear. Couldn’t think beyond the roaring in your head. Hundreds of half-fae and humans alike have sought refuge in Velaris. They fought and bled for their freedom, only for it to potentially be stripped away again?
Images flooded your mind, from your time spent in the slave camps of Vallahan. Half-fae and humans of all ages, broken and abused. The Overseers; faces full of wrath and disgust and hatred.
Your ears rang with the cracking of whips. The screams of the dying. Your own screams, as you were chained to that post and beaten and—
“Y/n.”
You remembered the smell of blood. The smell of rotting flesh, as your dead kin laid in the sun for days before being put into unmarked graves.
“Y/n.”
You snapped back into reality, knees almost buckling at what you saw. The room looked as though someone had ripped it apart. Now-tattered books, strewn across the floor, wooden shelves and tables in splinters.
Amren, who you were almost certain never showed any surprise, was wide-eyed as she observed you. Upon meeting your eyes, she said, “That’s one way to do it.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Wind and lightning. Though you saw none of it, felt none of it. But Amren swore it surrounded you in those moments, as your mind took you to places you never wanted to be again.
Sometimes, emotion can drive one’s power, Amren had said. We’ll learn to draw it out without it.
When you demanded an explanation as to what Rhysand and his Inner Circle planned on doing in regards to the emissaries from the Continent, Amren merely invited you to the next meeting. Which wouldn’t be for another week.
In the hours after you left, you’d tried over and over again to summon your power. You failed, miserably. So, you spent the rest of your evening at the Infirmary.
At least you were good for something.
Madja left you to your own devices, allowing you to tend to several patients—faerie and human alike; most of whom needed minor fixes. Fevers, muscle pain, nausea.
You worked and worked until the events of that morning were an afterthought. Until all you had to worry about was tending to each patient, and their needs.
Just one more patient for the evening, and then you could—
“Hello,” the spymaster of the Night Court greeted with a smile. He looked tired, more than what he usually seemed. Exhausted, even.
“Azriel. Are you alright?” You internally scolded yourself as the question came out. Obviously he wasn’t, if he was at the Infirmary.
Azriel smiled again. “I’m fine. I’ve been having headaches.”
“For how long?”
Azriel chuckled. “Centuries.”
“And you’re just now choosing to be treated for them?”
“They were manageable, before.”
“How long ago did they begin worsening?”
“About two months ago.” Azriel explained everything to you: the frequency of the headaches, the location, pain levels.
You left for a few minutes, returning a small tin. Azriel quirked a brow as you handed it to him, before opening it, revealing the salve inside. “This is supposed to help?” He sounded skeptical.
“Yes. It has peppermint and rosemary; both are effective at alleviating headaches.”
Azriel still didn’t seem convinced.
“Here, let me…” You dipped two fingers into the salve. Without thinking, you began gently rubbing it into his temples.
Azriel stiffened at first, but relaxed within seconds. A small sound came out of him, almost a purr. You smiled to yourself, continuing to apply the salve. “You’ll do this every morning and night, just for a few minutes.”
Azriel nodded in response. He looked almost offended as you pulled away, as though he wanted you to keep going. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“You might also consider getting enough sleep. Lack of rest will absolutely trigger headaches,” you said.
A smirk from Azriel. “How would you know if I get enough sleep?”
You smiled. “Takes one to know one.”
Azriel’s hazel eyes raked over your form. Something buried within you sang at the gesture, but you shoved it away, clearing your throat. “Is there anything else?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, before standing.
Mother above, did he tower over you. He stood less than a foot away, now. Close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.
“Amren said you put on quite the show this morning,” Azriel said, his voice a bit lower than before.
“Did she?”
Azriel hummed. “The living room was no longer livable, when I arrived home this afternoon.”
Your face flushed. Azriel’s amusement increased at the sight of it. “It’s alright,” he said with a chuckle. “Amren and Cassian have torn apart entire buildings over mild disputes. You’ll fit right in.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but stopped short as one of Azriel’s shadows snaked up your arm, twirling around your hair; a gentle caress.
It was Azriel’s turn to flush. “I’m sorry.”
You grinned. “No need to apologize. I think they like me.”
Azriel studied you, the smallest smile gracing his lips. “Most people fear them.”
“There’s nothing to fear about them,” you replied simply. “They’re apart of you.”
“They are. Always will be.” The shadows slithered away, returning behind his shoulders. Azriel bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you for the salve.”
Azriel left before you could say anything more.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar headcanon#acotar fanfiction#acomaf#female reader#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#Azriel#shadowsinger#spymaster#acosf#acowar#acofas
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I don’t think Tessa is one of the good guys
I have a lot of questions about Tessa. What are her goals? Is she really on copper 9 for the reasons she told us in episode 6? Does she have hidden motives, and if so, what are they???
The lines of “morality” in this show are super squiggly, so by “good guy”, I mean an individual with positive or helpful intent toward the main characters - in this case, drones.
The concept of Tessa bearing ill-intent for drones as a ‘species’ seemed contradictory at first: after all, she’s so nice to N, V and J, right? We’re talking about someone who, as a kid, saved zombie drones from the dump(cough, mass grave, cough) where their human owners left them to rot after creating them by means of improper disposal. Why would she want to kill drones? Especially in the same callous, procedurally improper ways that created the threat of Cyn to start out with?
Well…
Let’s not forget about the evil AI that massacred her family and the guests of their gala. AFTER Tessa took her in as an act of kindness, against her parents wishes. Parents who did seem to look down on her pretty severely, regularly chained her up in her room as punishment(you don’t install heavy duty, floor anchored chains for the occasional time out) and possibly kept her socially isolated???
That last point is pretty speculative, since a lot about the earth of N’s flashbacks screams post-apocalyptic vibes. Maybe there just aren’t a lot of humans left for Tessa to socialize with. Tessa’s dad reinforces this idea in his speech by listing “currently being alive” as an attribute the Elliots are known for. It could just as well be a meta joke(since they are killed in the next few seconds), so lacking more context, I hesitate to extrapolate from this point alone.
Anywho, back to Tessa’s callous drone murder. Even if her parents were crappy by the usual standards, she clearly didn’t want them/the other gala guests to die. She tried to save them by “murdering her a robo-child”. Idk, does this blacked out redacted image of Tessa in the aftermath of the massacre seem upset??
Reasonable assumption.
So adult/older teen Tessa has changed the way she feels about drones after these traumatic events. Maybe she doesn’t outright hate them, but she views them from a colder, more pragmatic angle than she did in her younger years. Does she still feel empathy for them and the horrible mistreatment they suffer at the hands of humans? Probably. But she’s now aware of the danger they truly pose and has good reason to eliminate them to ensure the absolute solver mutation no longer has a pool of hosts in which to spread and evolve.
So why the callous drone murder at the end of episode 3? We know you’re supposed to follow a 2 step procedure for decommissioning drones. Software death via lethal injection of a kill program(sounds fun!), followed by hardware death via “core removal” to ensure the decommissioned drone doesn’t reboot with corrupted software and an “increased chance for future errors”.
Did she hastily kill this random drone to keep her arrival on copper 9 secret, foregoing procedure for the sake of urgency? If so, who is she keeping her presence secret from? Is it the remaining drone population of copper 9, who Cyn used to collapse the planet core and kill all humans there? Possibly, Uzi is a prime example of anti-human sentiment, and during Mr Doorman’s parent-teacher conference he mentioned being on a “kill all humans kick when he was her age”. Perhaps Tessa assumes all the c9 worker drones are hostile to humans.
When you start making assumptions about what characters are assuming, it’s generally a good time to stop and just accept you don’t have the answers 🫠 so that’s where I will cut that line of questioning short. That being said, I’m not quite done yet…
What’s with this shelf of small human skulls in Tessa’s room? Why are the trash robots she “rescues” her only friends? Do her parents chain her up in her room because they suck? Or… do they have reasons not yet revealed to us, the audience?
Tessa’s perception among most of the fan base is fairly positive and on the surface there’s good reason for this. She’s presented as peppy, compassionate(except toward that one worker drone, lmao), ~tenacious~ and resilient. Actions like salvaging drones from the dump and perceived displays of affection and warmth for the disassembly drones leave viewers with the impression that she’s a good, kind person.
There is, however, another light in which to view her actions, and it casts a shadow on the motives we may have assumed were pure up to this point.
While it’s easy to parse Tessa saving drones from the dump as an act of altruism, it can also be interpreted as sinister. It could be an example of a character with a savior complex; a power dynamic wherein the “savior” exerts control over those they “rescue” by taking advantage of their gratitude and using it in manipulative ways. If this is the case, Tessa’s motives take a sharp left turn, flipping from selfless and kind to egotistical and controlling.
The show actually gives us direct evidence of Tessa using manipulation to get her drones to do her bidding.
“It wants paid time off…”
This instance of her using corporate buzzwords to drive J into a rage strong enough for her to bite through metal chains. Or how about her outright lying to the drones at the start of episode 6? Asserting that her intention was to “burn to the ground” labs Cyn was interested in, while later that same episode revealing to N that her “true” purpose was to obtain a list of drones infected with the absolute solver?
Preeetty manipulative. She manipulated and/or coerced Doll as well, in order to obtain the keybug. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if come episode 7, she switches it up yet again, revealing a new manipulation or perhaps, finally, her real mission.
Tessa’s manipulation of the drones she supposedly cares about isn’t the only hint that she might have a savior complex or similar egocentric tendencies. She’s also shown that she’s not very respectful of the drones autonomy, another red flag that can signal a propensity for narcissism and the controlling behaviors associated with it.
N is the example this time.
Tessa’s signature greeting for N, which is to grab his face and swing him around with excitement that borders on aggression. Maybe it’s just me, but his expression doesn’t suggest it’s mutually enjoyed. Looks more to me like he’s uncomfortable and only humoring her pep because he feels like he has no choice… after all, none of Tessa’s “dumpster pets” want to let down their saving grace.
We see this same kind of contact again throughout episode 6, with Tessa grabbing N’s face as a greeting again, and also playing with his hair on the way down to cabin fever labs. The way Tessa interacts with the drones(J and V as well as N) shows that she sees them as objects in her possession, rather than friends, peers or their own individuals with unique thoughts, wants and feelings.
Uzi even calls her out on this very mindset at the end of episode 6 after Tessa asks her sardonically to “don’t date my robot, please.”
Granted, I’ve got no solid backing, just observation, speculation and a suspicious mind. Tessa could be a great person… “good” or “bad” though, she’ll definitely try to kill our main character sometime soon, so… yup. Killing even an anti-hero typically slots you into the bad guy category, even in a show where the moral lines between good and evil are so artfully blurred.
TLDR; I think there’s more to Tessa than meets the eye, and even though Cyn is still probably Murder Drones “big bad”, I feel like Tessa has an element of villainy to her that I hope will be further explored in canon.
#murder drones#uzi doorman#tessa james elliot#theory#serial designation n#serial designation j#serial designation v
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Yan!Chain headcannons
Sky and Four
part 1
part 2
part 3
Credits to the lovely @mushroomwoods and their Sky content, Inspired a lot of how I imagine him
Tw: Yandarism and it’s accessories, obsessiveness, violence, descriptions of murder
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Sky
He was cautiously nice when you first met. He definitely understood that being cold to you wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially since you were in the same situation as them and terrified. But even he admits that he was scared you were a trick.
Afterall, how could someone so sweet and simply lovely be left to them? Someone so willing to help despite them themselves being helpless.
It took him longer to pick up that you were his guide. And even after he remembers, it’s still a little fuzzy. Unlike Wild, who’s memory is already faulty and loosing what he has of you possibly by Hylia’s influence, Hylia made Sky forget you. You were his guiding light through the darkness, and the sun eclipsed your glow, leaving him blinded.
And yet in spite of this, he does everything possible to make sure there will not a repeat. He’s already killed a god, what’s one more?
Yeah, He jumps straight to murder.
Not that you know.
Love languages in terms of giving, Physical touch and Words of Affirmation, anything to let you know that he’s there. And he’s not going to leave you again. Not if he can help it, not if there’s any ritual or magic or spell or anything in the multiverse that can keep you bound to his side.
Now, with that said, his new deity could do much as look at some jewellery and he’s emptying his wallet. Or shyly ask for his help with whatever your struggles are and he’s already forgotten what he was assigned to do. Anything for his light.
As for receiving? Anything. He’ll take absolutely anything you have to offer and will not ask for more. He’d bask in whatever words, time, gifts or otherwise you have to offer and would fool himself into believing that that is his exclusively.
He’s the most two faced in the chain, along with Wars. Wars however is willing to let the mask slip if it makes you behave. Sky on the other hand, is not. He’s layed down lives. This is not an if. The others may be cautious, but with his absolutely violent abandonment issues, he’s hid more bodies than people on skyloft.
And on that abandonment issues? He’s so playing that card. He will guilt trip the life out of you you. The others are willing to let you get hurt, to let you learn you’re safest with them. Sky however, wouldn’t even dare. Sure, Wild’s abandonment issues are just as bad, but he’s had time to simmer off. This is a fresh, bleeding wound that only you could heal.
Aside from that level of toxicity, you’re sleeping well. Literally. Naptimes, Cuddles, Not taking watch, Comfort from nightmares, you aren’t missing anything in the ways of comfort. And that’s not even counting the rest of your cult.
So he wouldn’t kidnap you, but you are going to deal with him begging at your feet to not leave him. He’s already so alone. No one knows- no one cares aside from you. Please don’t leave again.
And even if you do leave, don’t be shocked if he shows up in your house one day. He’ll find his way back to you. He’ll follow your light. Like he always has.
Nicknames for you: My love/Beloved, My light, My god/goddess, Dearest, Dove, My Star
Bonus: Another member of the Chain you are unknowingly married to. (credits to @majesties-palace and @skyloftian-nutcase i believe) You have one of Crimson’s feathers, the Skyloftian equivalent to an engagement ring. Better yet, you’d wear it all the time too, not knowing the grave you’re digging.
Four
Recognised you the soonest. Stared at you for a good four minutes before realising who you were.
And that’s how you found yourself traveling with the chain, him being the one to advocate for you to stay.
It did take him a while to fall in love, however. He realised you quickly, but that doesn’t mean he realised his feelings. Even if he did have a physical manifestation of them.
It wouldn’t be until someone was teasing him about his previous actions that stuff began to click together. Leaving gifts in your bag- money, jewellery that he made, letters one from each color (each with their own handwriting), as well as various other goods that he’d even considered that his feelings weren’t platonic.
But boy oh boy do they spiral from there! To cut his own mental breakdown short, he falls for your shortly after… but the colours take it farther. A lot farther. Every aspect of him, personified or not, wanted to love and own every part of you
His preferred love languages I see being Quality time and Gift giving. The former being literally anything- hour long chats, long walks, you sitting in the forge as he fills out orders, anything where you’re away from the others and with him. The ladder being gifts- But especially the ones he makes for you. Ones endowed with magic so he’ll find his way back to you. Ones made of Iron, so Hyrule will keep his hands off you. One ring from each colour. Each so finely detailed you’d never consider letting damage befall them.
As for love language receiving, Quality time and oddly enough, Physical touch. Quality time for the reason he likes sharing it with you. He likes having you to himself- especially on the days he feels more like four people sharing a body rather than One person as a whole. Physical touch, however, was one he didn’t expect from himself. But the first time you hugged him, most likely after the first elaborate gift he gave you, his brain associated it automatically as the highest form of praise for his work. To him, If he hopes to be substantial, your touch is the reward he strives for.
Two faced as Sky, but in a different way. He’s responsible face to face, friendly to you and reliable as a teammate. Sure, A little stubborn and a force to be reckoned with if you find yourself his enemy, but a good person all around. But the second you’re safe and out of earshot? Feral. He’s the easiest to tip off anger wise, along with Sky and Legend. The three of them would take turns on who scouts the victim, who bleeds them dry and who rids of the carcass.
You unraveled this man. Yes, i’m the way he’s at your every whim and also in the way his mind finds its way back to you constantly and in the way he devotes himself to protecting you so fiercely and in the way he’d sacrifice anything to just know you a little more. But also in the way he was so stable, or as close to as a Link could really get. But seeing you, in person, so scared and vulnerable? He was bound to spiral.
He’d try to kidnap you. We can debate on how well that would go. Not saying he’d be unsuccessful. He made the chains, the minish would let him know if his spouse ran off, not to mention he’s in the house nearly all the time with forging and what not, you’re not leaving. But… you can be bargain your way to freedom. Guilt tripping is probably the most efficient unless you’d like to spent hours arguing with Vio (he’d see it as a challenge and thus an endearing battle of wit and wouldn’t take you seriously)
Preferred nicknames: Dearest, Dear, Love, Honey, Babe, My heart if he’s feeling especially guilty and/or sentimental
#linked universe#legend of zelda#linkeduniverse#yandere linked universe#link x reader#linked universe x reader#link x you#yandere linked universe x reader#x reader#yandere link x reader#lu four#sky lu#lu sky x reader#lu four x reader#yan!sky#yan!four#fir’s library
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VERY Anti-Gw*nriel post, so I caution reading if you get triggered by that. Not Anti Gwyn though, so keep that in mind.
I think some of the moments with Gwyn and Az (what little there are) are similar to Elain and Az, and that is ON PURPOSE.
But these moments always lack where Elriel doesn’t.
Azriel rescuing Elain vs Gwyn:
1. Azriel CHOSE to rescue Elain. He was the first to notice she was missing. He verbally said he would get her back at the cost of his own life, even when everyone else seemed to be against him leaving. VS Azriel was ordered to rescue anyone who was still alive in the temple by Rhysand. Gwyn happened to be the only person. It was a job. He did it, then left. Everything was done off screen.
2. He suffered grave injuries after rescuing Elain, but his priority was still her and getting the chains off of her. VS Azriel didn’t suffer any injuries. He rescued Gwyn and then gave her to Mor to deal with. Didn’t stay, didn’t really make sure she was okay. Again, everything was done off screen.
3. Continuously checked on and interacted with Elain after rescuing her. VS Literally never saw Gwyn again until ACOSF, when he helped Nesta and all the other Valkyries with training. Never sought Gwyn out or checked on her before, or really after that. For years.
The (dreaded 🙄) Necklace:
1. Azriel has the necklace made FOR Elain. It represents her. The rose, the subtlety and beauty within it. How, like Elain, there’s more to this necklace than first meets the eye. And Elain LOVES it. VS The necklace has no symbolic connection to Gwyn. Azriel did not directly attempt to give it to her, he gave it to Clotho. He even said to give it to another priestess, if she didn’t give it to Gwyn. If it was truly a necklace for Gwyn, that would have been stated WAY more clearly. It wouldn’t have been such a strange, rash decision that honestly seemed out of character.
Azriel reacting to Elain and Gwyn laughing
1. When Elain laughs, Azriel visibly perks up. He searches for Elain, reacts to her in a positive way, and continues to gaze at her. VS Azriel notices Gwyn laughing loudly during training. He looks up, like everyone else does, then GOES BACK TO TRAINING.
Every similar moment that Azriel has with Gwyn in comparison to Elain, seems less. It’s always lacking the same romance, the same confident intent, the same verbal confirmation of feelings and wants, the same thoughtful consideration. The moments with Gwyn feel second hand. Like a cheap imitation.
And I’m sorry but that’s got to be on purpose. It’s a red herring. Or, my true theory, Gwyn and Azriel might be technically mates, but that doesn’t mean they’re GOOD for each other. Because Azriel’s true heart, soul, and feelings show up with ELAIN. So they could have similar moments, but because there’s no actual love or romance, they don’t MEAN anything. And intent/real feelings will always trump a mating bond.
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Character x Reader (Fluff) (Drabble)
(Alternative Angst Ending Included)
Context: You like giving/making trinkets to/for the love of your life (Character list below)
Links:
TLOU Masterlist
My rules for requests and characters I can write for
ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ
Disclaimers/warnings: Typical fandom things (read tags), OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.
Fluff:
You giving them a keychain or something of the sort and you think they clasp it on their belt loop or keep it in their pocket but that's actually not how they take it on missions with them because something from you is too valuable to actually be taken out like that where they could lose it.
Same thing goes if you make them jewelry, they think it's too fragile so instead they keep it back in their quarters/place underneath their pillow.
They pull out whatever trinket you gave them that meant a lot to you or you made yourself and they just stare at it reminding themselves that they have you. They hold it close to their heart as the found themselves finally able to sleep, still was difficult away from you.
With all the cruel and fucked up things they've seen in their life, you are by far the only light they have when they are stuck sulking in the darkness.
The one time you gave them a necklace, your favorite one and you begged them to bring it on missions because it was extremely sturdy and was in good condition after all.
They, in turn made a chain and clasped it on that so they can have it hanging by their belt loops so that enemies don't rip it off their neck. (The chain I'm describing are similar to the picture at the top but with chunkier and sturdier chains)
God forbid they actually lose or break something you gave them, they would cry or sulk because they know how much you value it and how your feelings would get hurt.
They were extremely surprised and relieved that you weren't mad at all at them because things like that just happen especially on missions. Instead of being mad, you gave/made them another one. They'll cherish it, that's for sure.
Angst ending below:
They swore to keep it with them to their graves and they did, the shouldn't have made that promise. It cemented their fate...
With their last breath, it was you they thought of. Apologies running through their head for being so weak that they know they're going to fail to come home to you.
Their cold body found in battle, tear and blood stained face while their eyes still open but no signs of life. In their fist was found of a memory of your love that kept them alive till then. The closed fist being held against their heart when they were found..
You couldn't help but fall to your knees, the world around you felt like it was spinning. Your lungs refuse to let you breathe along with the rest of you body betraying you, you choked out a sob. Clenching your hand against the pain in your chest withholding the item you gave them, only having realized that it returned into your hands once more...
Characters in mind:
Call of duty: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.
Resident Evil: Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Chris Redfield, Carlos Oliveira, Jill Valentine, Ada Wong.
The Last Of Us: Ellie Williams, Abby Anderson.
A/n: The amount of tags I used on this post is ridiculous, it was a fucking miracle that I managed to fit everything in. This was originally just supposed to be a fluff fic but my mind was wandering off and I thought of making a part 2 but that seems like too much work for a little paragraph so there
ꕥ I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO ANYONE WHO WILL TRANSLATE MY WORK AND POST IT OR POSTING IT IN OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. ANYTHING LIKE INSPIRATION IS FINE, JUST TAG ME BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO SEE IT. THIS GOES TO ALL MY POSTS IN THE FUTURE AND BEFORE THIS ꕥ
#cod x reader#resident evil x reader#price x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#rodolfo parra x reader#valeria garza x reader#farah karim x reader#kate laswell x reader#alex keller x reader#konig x reader#horangi x reader#keegan russ x reader#roach x reader#nikolai x reader#philip graves x reader#leon kennedy x reader#claire redfield x reader#carlos oliveria x reader#jill valentine x reader#ada wong x reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson x reader#chris redfeild x reader#cod drabble#resident evil drabble#tlou drabble#Aethelwyne Lia writes
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@woso-fan13 Updated Masterlist
Updated: 04 January 2024
I have no clue why I did this, I just love this writer sm and wish I could check everything in one place since I keep re-reading the fics lol
PS: If the writer wants me to delete the post and send it to you so you'll post it, feel free to message me! I just love the fics and felt like doing this :D
It didn't fit everything so check out @woso-fan13 for the other masterlist with the rest S2
Sicktember 2023
Number 1: Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care
Number 2: Quest For A Cure
Number 3: “What Happened To Your Phenomenal Immune System, Huh?”
Number 4: Hiding an Illness
Number 5: Preventative Measures (Not Taken)
Number 6: Sick & Injured
Number 7: “You’re A Jerk When You’re Sick”
Number 8: Persistent Fever
Number 9: White Coat Syndrome
Number 10: “The Only Place We’re Going Is To The Pharmacy”
Number 11: Beginner’s Guide To Faking Sick
Number 12: Home Remedy/Old Wives Tale
Number 13: Anxious Stomach
Number 14: “I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.”
Number 15: Sick in an Inconvenient Place
Number 16: Consulting the Internet/Web MD
Number 17: Magical Remedy/ Healing Potion
Number 18: “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”
Number 19: Curled Up With a Pet
Number 20: Cramping Pain
Number 21: “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too.”
Number 22: Terms of Endearment/Nicknames
Number 23: Coughing Fit
Number 24: “Did you just sneeze?”
Number 25: Confused/Disoriented
Number 26: Forehead Kisses
Number 27: Uncooperative Patient
Number 28: “I should have stayed home”
Number 29: Side Effects/Adverse Reaction
Number 30: Patient 0
WHUMPTOBER 2023
Number 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”
Number 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”
Number 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”
Number 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”
Number 5: “You better pray I don’t get up this time around.”
Number 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”
Number 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”
Number 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”
Number 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”
Number 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”
Number 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”
Number 12: “I haven’t slept in days but who’s counting?”
Number 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”
Number 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”
Number 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”
Number 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Number 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”
Number 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”
Number 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”
Number 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”
Number 21: “See the chains around my feet.”
Number 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.
Number 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”
Number 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”
Number 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”
Number 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”
Number 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”
Number 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”
Number 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”
Number 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”
Number 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”
Comfortember 2023
Safe
Sweater Weather
Leaves Changing
Warmth
Treehouse
Notes
Sick/Illness
Grief/Mourning
Aftermath
Sadness
Comfort Show/Movie
Dreams
Baking
Late Night Phone Calls
Plushies
Coffee/Tea Break
Heirloom
Cuddles
Loved Ones
Shopping
Relapse
Cry
Anxiety
Blankets
Rain
Friends
Soup
Flashbacks
Sleepover
The New Normal
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#uswnt players#uswnt imagines#uswnt woso#uswnt reader#woso x reader#reader insert#x reader#woso imagine#woso soccer#womens soccer#woso#masterlist
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How do you research for fics...? I remember vaguely you answered another anon how you went on a deep dive for Joe Graves religion.
How do you even start? Is there a dummies guide books for how the military operates? This stumps me with writing, especially ones with a lot of secrecy.
Hmmm ok so 2 things. First off, there are some basic things you can do for research - the source material is always a good start, so with Bear Graves for instance, watching the show gave me a rough idea of some military chain of command and protocols and such. Then there’s Wikipedia as a next step (to help you with definitions, basic things like a captain’s day to day duties, anything crucial to your plot like if you need to know what could get someone honourably discharged or the different factions like marines vs the army vs the navy), and then you can start diving deeper. Quora and Reddit are actually very good for specific questions.
Second, I personally feel like - at least for fanfiction - if you have the basic skeleton understanding and you aren’t making any huge egregious errors (like saying a lieutenant reports to a sergeant, for instance, you know, something that feels obvious), I think sometimes it’s better to just make shit up rather than getting caught in the weeds of research.
For tv shows, movies, and authors with actual book deals, they have more time at their disposal and resources. They can take months to do a ton of research on military operations, talk to actual military personnel or former personnel, and sometimes even have a team of writers to help with the research. For our silly little fics that we just want to write for enjoyment, it’s okay if you know how exactly how to coordinate a SEAL mission, you know.
I think I’ve said this before and it personally took me awhile to learn, but I think often when you, as a writer, are not personally familiar with something, we have a bad habit of thinking we need to learn everything about it and then overexplain it in our writing. But you’re allowed to gloss over things! The story often doesn’t need you to go into detail about things if that’s not the point of the story - if your character is a mechanic repairing a Humvee, you can maybe mention their tools and maybe one thing they have to do, but you don’t have to explain it as if you were teaching someone how to do it. Unless that’s something you actually want to do, I think it’s usually just an ingrained habit to overcompensate for not being totally comfortable with a subject.
That’s just my two cents! I hope that helps though!!! I’ve had to do a lot for various fics and these are the two things I often come back to :))
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On this day, 2 December 1859, US abolitionist John Brown was executed by the state of Virginia for his leadership of an armed rebellion against slavery. Brown and a small band of Black and white fellow abolitionists attempted to seize the federal arsenal of weapons at Harpers Ferry. The weapons would be used to arm enslaved people and abolitionist whites, and set up a chain of forts across the country which could launch raids on enslavers, helping free large numbers of enslaved people then funnel them north to Canada, meanwhile disrupting the slave economy. On December 2, after a battle with US troops, Brown and his men were defeated. Two of them managed to escape – Osborne Anderson and Albert Hazlett – and the survivors were put on trial for treason, murder and "conspiring with Negroes to produce insurrection". Brown was hanged at 11:15 AM outside the Charles Town jail. On his way to the scaffold he handed a note to one of the guards, which declared: "I John Brown am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land: will never be purged away; but with blood." In the wake of the attempted uprising, fearing further such attempts, pro-slavery militias formed across the US South. These would soon fight for the Confederacy in the civil war which would break out less than two years later, during which Union troops would sing: "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, but his soul goes marching on." * If you enjoy our posts on social media, make sure to listen to our podcast. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts or go to our website: https://workingclasshistory.com/podcast/ https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2150736838444788/?type=3
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The Lost Dragon 2 - War.
Summary: The Queen and her King go to war and a dragon is lost.
Warnings - Angst, Drama, Allusion to Smut, Fighting, Dragons, Fire, War, Injury, Blood Loss, Character Death.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN
Word Count: 4000
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9
The Targaryen army had been assembled, their banners fluttering proudly in the breeze as they prepared to march.
Meanwhile, the Velaryon fleet, led by Jace, were already enroute to Rain House, where they would rendezvous before launching their assault on the Triarchy.
In the war room of the Red Keep, final preparations were underway as commanders and strategists laid out their plans for the coming campaign. Maps were spread out on the table, battle plans meticulously drawn, and orders issued to the troops.
Vaelys and Aemond stood at the head of the table, their expressions grave yet determined. "This is it," Aemond declared, his voice carrying a note of resolve. "The time has come to put an end to the threat of the Triarchy once and for all."
Vaelys nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with determination. "Our forces are ready, our resolve unwavering," she affirmed. "Together, we will ensure the safety and security of our realm."
With a shared nod of understanding, they turned to leave the war room, ready to lead their troops into battle. As they stepped out into the courtyard of the Red Keep, they were met with the sight of their army.
Sovia and Daevyn stood beside Alysanne, their gazes lingering on the assembled forces.
“We leave you in charge-Should the worst happen then Alysanne will be at your side to guide you both“ said Vaelys firmly.
“I pray the worst does not happen and that you both return to us” said Sovia as she hugged her mother and father in turn.
“I will do everything in my power to see your mother safe byka grēges” whispered Aemond (Little bug).
“-And you Kepa” replied Sovia (Father).
“I will do my best-now son I expect you to assume my duties in my absence and we will send word as soon as the Triarchy have been dealt with” said Aemond firmly.
“Perzys se ānogar” urged Daevyn (Fire and blood).
“As always my son-” replied Aemond.
With one last farewell, Aemond and Vaelys checked their armour and made their way to their dragons.
With practiced ease, Aemond ascended the rope ladder and chained himself into Vhagar's saddle, his movements fluid and confident. Vaelys followed suit, gracefully climbing onto Vermithor's back, her heart pounding with anticipation.
With a silent command, Vhagar lifted into the air, her powerful wings beating against the wind as she soared into the sky. Vermithor followed close behind, his wings slicing through the air with effortless grace.
With Vhagar and Vermithor leading the way, they flew over the head of their army, their dragons' roars echoing through the air as they escorted their forces to Rain House.
After many hours of travel Vhagar and Vermithor finally descended upon Rain House, their powerful wings beating against the air, Aemond and Vaelys guided their dragons to a smooth landing in the open field.
The Targaryen army followed closely behind, their banners fluttering in the breeze as they formed ranks on the ground below.
With a graceful dismount, Aemond landed on the soft grass, his eye scanning the area for any signs of danger. Vaelys followed suit, her movements fluid and confident as she slid down from Vermithor's back.
The air was filled with a sense of anticipation as the Targaryen forces made camp for the night, setting up tents and lighting fires to ward off the chill of the evening air.
The sounds of horses trotting and soldiers talking filled the air, mingling with the crackle of flames and the occasional roar of the dragons.
Aemond and Vaelys moved through the camp together, their presence instilling a sense of confidence and determination in their troops. They checked in with their commanders, ensuring that all preparations were in place for the coming battle, and offering words of encouragement to all of their soldiers.
As night fell and the stars began to twinkle in the sky above, Aemond and Vaelys stood side by side, gazing out over the camp below.
That night, Aemond whisked his wife off to their tent and spent the night thrusting his hard cock into her.
His mouth sucking on her rosy nipples as she slowly rode him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as they sat in the middle of the bed, the second time her took her, his harsh thrusts as he fucked her relentlessly from behind, his pace never wavering. His fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.
The third time, it was slow, passionate and loving. Even after he spilled his seed, he kept his cock inside his wife. Never wanting to leave her warmth.
The night was for them, as tomorrow the would face the Triarchy and they would see an end to the rebellion once and for all.
As the Targaryen and Velaryon forces engaged the Triarchy in battle, the clash of steel and the roar of dragons filled the air. The sky above the step stones became a battlefield as Vhagar, Vermithor, and Vermax descended upon the enemy fleet.
As much as they had surprised the Triarchy with their attack the Triarchy had still been prepared.
Their number far exceeding what they had originally been led to believe.
They had learned from their previous encounters with the dragons Caraxes and Seasmoke and had mounted scorpions to the bows of their ships, firing huge crossbow bolts at the dragons.
As the sharpened bolts flew through the air, Vhagar, being the largest target, became the primary focus of the Triarchy's assault.
Vaelys watched with growing concern as the bolts came dangerously close to injuring both Vhagar and Aemond.
Realizing the danger, Vaelys knew that she had to act swiftly to protect her husband and their dragons.
With a firm command, she ordered Aemond and Vhagar to stay back and cover their men over the land, while she and Vermithor would deal with the enemy fleet upon the seas alongside Jace and Vermax.
Aemond hesitated for a moment, torn between his duty to protect his men and his desire to fight alongside his wife.
But he knew that Vaelys was right. Vhagar was too large a target, and they couldn't risk losing her in the heat of battle.
With a heavy heart, Aemond nodded in agreement, his jaw set with determination. As Vhagar banked away from the fray, Aemond prepared to lead their ground forces into battle, his mind focused on the task at hand.
Meanwhile, Vaelys and Vermithor joined forces with Jace and Vermax, their dragons unleashing torrents of fire upon the enemy ships, their roars echoing through the air as they fought with all their might to turn the tide of battle in their favour.
But the number of Triarchy forces seemed unending, when one group fell more rose in their place.
As the battle raged on, Vermithor unleashed torrents of fire upon the sea born Triarchy ships, his roars echoing through the air as he wreaked havoc upon their fleet. The enemy vessels were engulfed in flames, their crews scrambling in a desperate attempt to escape the dragon's wrath.
Some of the Triarchy ships even made attempts to flee, but they were met with resistance from the Velaryon fleet, their ships forming a blockade to prevent any escape.
Meanwhile, Vermax soared overhead, his powerful wings beating against the wind as he searched for any remaining enemies.
But then, disaster struck.
A bolt from one of the Triarchy's scorpions found its mark, striking Vermax. The dragon roared in pain as he plummeted from the sky, crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.
Vaelys tried to fly after her brother and his dragon, but a bolt just narrowly missed her, and she had no choice but to manoeuvre Vermithor out of the way, she directed her bronze fury to fly higher in the sky, using the sun to her advantage.
She advanced upon the remainder of the Triarchy forces on the sea, Vermithor unleashing his flame upon them.
Dragon and rider working together, to rid themselves of the enemy and protect the Velaryon fleet.
With a swift command, Aemond guided Vhagar to land beside the fallen dragon, his mind racing with concern.
As they landed, Aemond hurried to Jace's side, his heart pounding in his chest as he checked for any signs of injury.
Jace was dazed but alive, his eyes wide with shock as he struggled to comprehend what had happened.
Meanwhile, Vermax lay on the ground, his massive form wracked with pain as he struggled to rise, his wing was broken from the collision, rendering him unable to fly.
“VERMAX” shouted Jace as he quickly freed himself from his chains and hauled himself to his feet.
“-His wing is broken” replied Aemond.
“D-Do you think he’ll be ok?” asked Jace worriedly.
“He’ll be fine-so long as we see an end to these cunts first” exclaimed Aemond as he unsheathed his sword, the darkened blade gleaming in the sunlight as he charged into the fray.
The Triarchy's ground forces surged forward to meet him, their weapons drawn, and their faces twisted in expressions of hatred and rage.
But Aemond was undaunted. With years of training as a swordsman and his experience with the Dothraki during his time in exile, he moved with speed and precision, his sword flashing through the air as he cut through his enemies with ease.
His movements were fluid and graceful, his strikes deadly and efficient as he engaged the enemy forces on the ground.
Beside him, Jace fought with equal ferocity, his own sword flashing in the sunlight as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his uncle. Together, they formed a formidable team, their swords singing as they clashed with the enemy, their movements complementing each other perfectly as they fought side by side.
Meanwhile, Vhagar hovered protectively over Vermax, her massive form casting a shadow over the injured dragon as she kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, ready to breathe fire on any who dared approach.
As the battle raged on, Aemond and Jace fought with unwavering determination, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they cut down their enemies with skill and precision.
As Aemond fought valiantly against the Triarchy forces, his sword slicing through the air with deadly intent, he suddenly felt a searing pain shoot through his leg.
With a gasp of agony, he stumbled backward, his balance faltering as he fell to his knees.
The world spun around him as he clutched at his wounded leg, blood seeping through the fabric of his breeches as he struggled to stay upright.
The clang of steel and the shouts of battle faded into the background as he fought to stay conscious, his vision swimming with waves of pain.
Beside him, Jace's voice rang out in alarm, his nephew's sword flashing as he fought to defend his uncle from the enemy forces.
But Aemond could hardly hear him over the pounding of his own heart, the pain in his leg threatening to overwhelm him.
With a grimace of determination, Aemond gritted his teeth and forced himself to push through the pain. Summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his sword for support as he prepared to rejoin the fray.
But even as he struggled to rise, the pain in his leg refused to abate, shooting through him like a bolt of lightning with every movement.
As Aemond struggled to his feet, clutching his wounded leg, a group of Triarchy men advanced on him, their weapons drawn. With a grim determination, they loomed over him, their eyes glinting with a cruel intent.
Before Aemond could react, two of the Triarchy's men drew their bow's and fired arrows directly at him.
With a sickening thud, the arrows struck Aemond, one in the shoulder and one in his side. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he stumbled backward, the force of the impact driving him to his knees once more.
His weight braced on Blackfyre, Aemond fought to maintain his composure despite the searing pain coursing through his body. Blood oozed from the wounds, staining his armour crimson as he gritted his teeth against the agony.
With every ounce of strength he could muster, Aemond forced himself to remain upright, his grip on Blackfyre tightening as he prepared to defend himself against the advancing enemy.
Despite the odds stacked against him, his resolve remained unbroken, his eye blazing with defiance as he faced his enemies head-on.
But even as he prepared to meet his attackers, Aemond knew that he was wounded and vulnerable, his movements slowed by the stinging pain radiating from his leg and body.
As Aemond braced himself for the impending attack, one of the Triarchy men raised his bow and took aim directly at his heart.
With a swift motion, he released the arrow, the deadly projectile hurtling through the air.
But just as the arrow was about to strike Aemond, Jace shoved him to the ground.
The arrow struck Jace's chest with a sickening thud, and he crumpled to the ground.
Time seemed to stand still as Aemond stared in shock at his fallen nephew, his heart wrenching with grief and disbelief.
His mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, from horror and despair to a burning fury that threatened to consume him.
With trembling hands, Aemond reached out to Jace, his fingers brushing against his nephew's prone body.
Tears stung his eye as he realized the extent of the sacrifice Jace had made to save him, and he felt a profound sense of guilt wash over him.
With a primal roar of rage and grief, Aemond launched himself at the Triarchy men, Blackfyre, flashing in the sunlight as he cut through them with swift and deadly strokes.
His movements were fuelled by a fierce determination to avenge his fallen nephew, each blow landing with the force of his sorrow and fury.
One by one, the Triarchy men fell before him, their cries of pain drowned out by the thundering beat of his heart. With every swing of his sword, Aemond unleashed his wrath upon them, his grief giving way to a burning desire for vengeance.
Finally, the last of the Triarchy men lay defeated at his feet, their lifeless bodies scattered across the battlefield.
With a heaving breath, Aemond cast his sword aside, his grief bearing down upon him like a crushing weight.
Rushing back to Jace's side, Aemond gathered his nephew into his arms, his heart breaking at the sight of the young man gasping for breath, his life slipping away before his eye.
"Why, Jace? Why did you sacrifice yourself?" Aemond demanded, his voice trembling with emotion as he searched his nephew's eyes for answers.
Jace's breath came in ragged gasps, his strength fading with each passing moment. With a faint smile, he reached out to take Aemond’s hand, his fingers cold against his uncle's skin.
"F-For h-her. I-I w-was w-wrong a-about y-you-" mumbled Jace, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to speak. And with those words, his hand fell limp, his breath ceasing as he passed away in his uncle's arms.
Aemond was silent, his grief overwhelming as he held Jace's lifeless body close to his chest. Tears streamed down his face as he mourned the loss of his nephew.
As the last of the Triarchy forces fell before the might of the Targaryen and Velaryon armies, victory was finally theirs.
The battlefield lay strewn with the fallen, a grim testament to the cost of war. But amidst the carnage, the banners of House Targaryen and House Velaryon flew proudly, their victory hard-won but well-deserved.
Vaelys descended from the sky on Vermithor's back, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and dread. As she landed not far from where Aemond knelt, cradling Jace's lifeless body in his arms, she caught sight of her brother and her heart stopped.
"JACAERYS" screamed Vaelys as she dismounted from Vermithor in a rush, her legs shaking beneath her as she stumbled toward Aemond and Jace, her mind reeling with shock.
"Aemond!" she cried; her voice raw with anguish as she fell to her knees beside them. "No, no, gods, no!"
Her hands reached out, trembling as they hovered over Jace's lifeless form, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved brother lying so still and cold.
Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at Aemond, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and accusation.
"Aemond, what happened?" she demanded, her voice choked with emotion. "What happened to him?"
Aemond's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with sorrow as he held Jace's body close to his chest. "He-he saved me," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with grief. "He sacrificed himself to save me."
Vaelys' heart clenched at the words, her grief threatening to consume her. She reached out to touch Jace's face, her fingers brushing against his cold skin as she whispered a prayer to the gods of old Valyria for his soul.
As Aemond knelt beside Jace's lifeless body, cradling his nephew in his arms, he felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over him. His vision blurred, the edges of his sight fading into darkness as the blood loss from his wounds finally began to take its toll.
Through the haze, he could hear Vaelys' voice, her screams of anguish echoing in his ears like a distant echo. "Aemond! Aemond, stay with me!" she cried, her voice filled with desperation and fear.
But Aemond could no longer hold on.
His strength failed him, and he collapsed to the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain.
The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Vaelys' face.
Vaelys paced back and forth in the dimly lit tent, her heart heavy with worry as she watched the Maesters tend to Aemond's wounds. Her braided hair was a tangled mess, strands of silver falling loose around her face, and her clothes were stained with soot and ash from the battlefield.
With every step she took, her mind raced with fear and uncertainty. Aemond lay unconscious on the cot before her, his face pale and drawn, his breathing shallow and laboured.
The Maesters worked with practiced hands, their faces grave as they tended to his injuries, but their expressions betrayed their concern.
Vaelys couldn't bear to look away from Aemond, her eyes fixed on his still form as she silently prayed for his recovery. Her heart ached with worry, her thoughts consumed by the possibility of losing him, and she felt a rising tide of panic threatening to overwhelm her.
But she pushed aside her fear, forcing herself to focus on the present moment. She paced back and forth, her footsteps echoing in the quiet confines of the tent, her mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.
Hours passed in tense silence, the only sounds the muted voices of the Maesters and the soft rustle of fabric as Vaelys paced. And then, finally, a hushed murmur broke the stillness as one of the maesters spoke.
"He's stable, Your Grace," the Maester said, his voice tinged with relief. "But he's lost a lot of blood. It will take time for him to recover."
Vaelys' heart clenched with gratitude at the news, her eyes filling with tears of relief. She rushed to Aemond's side, her hands reaching out to grasp his limp fingers as she leaned in close, her breath catching in her throat as she whispered words of encouragement and love.
As she sat by his side, her hand clasped in his, she vowed to stay by his side until he woke, her love and devotion unwavering.
Vaelys remained steadfast at Aemond's side, her vigil unbroken as she refused to leave him for even a moment. She sat beside him, her eyes never straying from his pale, unconscious face, her hand clasped tightly in his.
Despite the urging of the Maesters and her advisors, Vaelys remained resolute in her determination to stay by Aemond's side. She refused to speak to anyone, her silence a testament to the depth of her love and devotion for her husband.
Minutes turned into hours, and still Vaelys remained at Aemond's side, hoping that her presence would be a comfort to him in his unconscious state. She repeatedly whispered words of encouragement and love, her voice soft and soothing as she spoke to him, willing him to wake.
Outside the tent, life went on, but inside, time seemed to stand still. Vaelys paid no heed to the passing hours, her only concern the man lying before her, fighting for his life.
As time stretched on, hope waned and despair threatened to consume her, but still Vaelys remained unwavering in her determination to stay by Aemond's side.
"Your Grace. A dragon has been sighted in the sky."
Without a word, she rose from her place beside Aemond's cot and made her way outside, her footsteps quickening with each passing moment.
As she emerged into the open air, the ground shook beneath her feet as the dragon Sapphyre landed in front of her.
"Daevyn," Vaelys exclaimed, her voice filled with both surprise and relief. "What are you doing here?"
Daevyn's face was drawn with worry as he dismounted from his dragon and approached his mother.
"I was worried," admitted Daevyn, his voice tinged with concern. "We didn't receive word from anyone, and I feared the worst. I had to come and check for myself."
Wrapping her arms around him, Vaelys held him close, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "Thank you, Daevyn," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for coming."
Daevyn gazed at his mother’s dishevelled appearance, noting the tangled strands of silver hair and the soot stains on her clothes. His heart clenched with worry at the sight, his mind racing with concern for her well-being.
But then, through the flap of the tent, he caught sight of the linen-wrapped body lying on the cot, and a wave of dread washed over him.
His breath caught in his throat as he automatically assumed the worst, fearing that his father had met his end on the battlefield.
"M-mother," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "Is-is that-"
But before he could finish his question, Vaelys reached out to him, her hand resting gently on his arm as she met his gaze with a reassuring smile.
"No, sweet boy," she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's not your father-"
Relief flooded through Daevyn at her words, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his sudden release from fear.
He let out a shaky breath, his eyes brimming with gratitude as he wrapped his arms around his mother, holding her close in a tight embrace.
"Thank the gods," murmured Daevyn, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
As Daevyn held his mother close, his heart still racing with the fear of loss, Vaelys gently pulled away from him, her eyes filled with sorrow as she met his gaze.
"Daevyn-" she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "-It's Jace."
A look of confusion crossed Daevyn's face, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "J-Jace?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "But-how?"
Vaelys took a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain of the words she was about to speak. "He gave his life to save your father," she explained, her voice trembling with emotion. "He pushed Aemond out of the way of an arrow meant for him, and-he didn't survive."
A heavy silence hung between them as Daevyn processed her words, his heart heavy with grief at the loss of his beloved uncle.
Tears welled up in his eyes, his throat tight with sorrow as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of their loss.
"He-he sacrificed himself for father?" Daevyn whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
Vaelys nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears as she reached out to him, offering him comfort in their shared grief. "Yes," she said softly. "He saved your father's life, Daevyn. He was a hero."
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#hotd smut#hotd
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SIN
CHAPTER 1
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
Notes:
This story is first-person narration, since I couldn't decide on an x reader or x oc. This gives free imagination on who will be in the main character's shoes. The main character will be a nameless character, meaning no one will address the main as anything specific. The only detail will be that the main is perceived as a male.
STORY INTEL:
A new boy, Marcus, has just transferred to Cheshire High. Everyone is warned to stay away from him, as he looks as if he just crawled out of a grave. However, our main character seems to be somewhat drawn to him. Judy displays her negative feelings towards Marcus, wanting the main character to stay away from him. Although she seems unreasonable, there has to be more to the story, right? Just what are they hiding? What secrets lie in wait for him to uncover?
CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINORS
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
♡
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
I wish that
Across your back
Was a zipper
And that I
Could just crawl in
Forever a part of you.
I'm suddenly shaken awake. I look to my side to find my girlfriend, Judy Presley, giggling to herself.
“Sleeping already? Class barely started!”
I quietly laughed, raising my head to look at her.
“I've been busy with football practice, I'm worried about the upcoming tournament. I've only just found out that Oliver broke his-”
“Hey, no worries!” Judy rubbed my back. “You can come over to my house today, so you can catch up on some sleep.” She winked.
I laid my head back onto my crossed arms on the table. I wasn't in the mood for that today… Anyway, I ready myself to fall back into slumber, fully expecting to be hugged by sleep.
However, that idea was cut short when the teacher clapped his hands.
“Quiet down everyone, today we have a new student.” This piqued my interest. “Marcus, come on in.”
A tall, slender boy with long (and I mean hip-long) black hair came in. His hair covered half his face, with only the septum piercing and mouth left out in the open. I could tell he was a gothic-alt based on his clothes.
Judy cringed next to me. “What's with this guy? He's so ... depressed, looking. She chuckled, causing” the teacher to look our way.
“Alright, Marcus, go sit at the desk table next to Judy. Judy, raise your hand, please.”
Marcus sat at the nearby desk; there was something about him, I couldn't pinpoint. I realized I was staring too long when Judy elbowed me.
“Ow!” I whisper-yelled.
“SH! You two!” The teacher side-eyed us both before going back to teaching.
“What's with the staring?” She asked, suspiciously.
“Nothing just found him-”
“Weird, satanic, faggy-”
“JUDY! You can't say that!-”
“I've had it with you both! Since you both cannot stop being lovey-dovey with each other…” The teacher scanned around the room, “Judy switch with Marcus.”
“But sir, I-” Judy argued, still blushing from the lovey-dovey accusation.
“No buts Judy, if you're going to be disrespectful in my class you're going to be punished. This isn't kindergarten anymore.” He said, turning back to the blackboard.
I whispered a silent apology to her, but I'm not sure if she heard it.
She sighed before grabbing her stuff and standing up. She passed Marcus, silently glaring at him before sitting down. I'm sure she won't let me hear the end of it at lunch…
I looked back at Marcus, who was now organizing his binder and pencil case, occasionally looking up at the lesson. Now I could get a better look at him. His clothes consisted of only black and grey shades with ripped baggy jeans, platform boots, and a t-shirt with some rock band, I presume. He wore all kinds of chains, necklaces, earrings, and rings.
He was the complete polar opposite of Judy. She always put her light brown hair in a ponytail with a white bow, wore perfect matching season clothes, and had well-made makeup. I would be lying if I said she wasn't something but, Marcus, he was also something… Wait, why am I comparing them??
I rubbed my temples and groaned.
I looked back at Marcus, only to be met with him facing me!
“You have very pretty eyes.” He said, giving me an affiliative smile.
Gasp His voice?? Holy shit, it's … almost unrealistic…
“T-thank you…”
I internally slapped myself, was I seriously stuttering?? God, I'm so embarrassed.
I heard him lightly chuckle beside me.
What's going on with me? I must be coming down with something!
ﾟ+: *✧･ﾟ:﹤ 🔔🔔🔔﹥: ･ﾟ✧*:+ﾟ
“Judy this, Judy that, shut your goddamn mouth!” I shut my locker, half listening to Judy's rant. “I hate that fucking teacher! Who does he think he is, separating us like that!?” I nod, just letting her get it all out of her system.
“Hey guys, wait up!” A small voice behind us made Judy shut up.
We both turned towards a familiar girl. Vanessa Kareem, Judy's BFF (as she calls it). Vanessa and her have always been friends. She was pretty much the spitting image of Judy except for her black silky hair that was in a grunge haircut, her blue eyes, and her much paler skin.
“Hey V, how's it going?” Judy smiled, forgetting all about her rant.
“Nothing much, however, you'll never guess what happened! I've just received another A! In science too!” She waved her test around, looking at me for words of praise.
“Oh, uh, congrats Vanessa, although I'm not all that surprised… you're pretty smart. I can't remember the last time you've gotten a B.” I rub the back of my neck.
“Me neither…” Judy said, a bit sourly.
Vanessa laughed, “Oh, stop it! Both of you! He-he. Anyway, how are you guys?”
“I'm glad you asked, we're doing pretty miserable,” And there she goes again… “I got switched seats with the new vampire wannabe.”
Vanessa blinked. “You two aren't sitting together anymore?”
“No! Can you believe it!? We always sit together! Ugh! I'm so pissed off! Fuck that new kid.” Judy screamed.
“Hey, don't say that! He's not all bad.” I intervened.
“And what makes you say that?” Judy cocked an eyebrow.
“He… He said my eyes looked nice.” I pinched the palm of my hand.
“Your eyes indeed do look nice,” Vanessa said, causing Judy to side-eye her.
“Yeah, well, I say that all the time! As a matter of fact, I think your hair looks immaculate today!”
“Thank you, Judy, and erm, Vanessa.” I give them both a wary smile before continue walking to the cafeteria.
There, MY best friend, Omar Thomerson, sat devouring his lunch. Omar, he's been with me since the universe was created. We're convinced we were best friends in our past lives. I've always thought of him as the geek in our friendship. He's always been obsessed with any fantasy fiction he can grab on. Greek mythology, science-fiction, astrology, you name it. He has dark brown hair with a shag haircut, freckles, and brown eyes. His typical wear is a worn-out hoodie and cargo pants.
“Hey, Hey, there's my best friend!” Omar patted the seat next to him.
I sat down with Judy and Vanessa trailing after me. I gave him a high five before opening my lunch box.
We all chatted and ate, Omar occasionally bringing up the big party he is planning on having at his house this weekend.
“Our whole grade is going to be invited! You guys better all be coming, especially you” Omar said, smirking at me.
“The whole grade? Don't you think that's too much? I mean, I know you own a big house but…” She sighed, “Not only that, but I might have plans this weekend.” Judy said, taking another bite of her salad.
“I'm for sure coming, I would never miss your parties!” I slap his back jokingly.
“I'll be going too!” Vanessa beamed.
“Well… maybe I'll have time to swing by,” Judy said.
“Great! I'll be holding you all to that then.” Omar smiled.
We continued our conversation until something caught my eye, a familiar half-face going out the back cafeteria door. The only thing behind there are dumpsters and roaches…
“Hang on, guys, I'll be back.” I squeezed out of my seat.
“Want me to come with you?” Judy sat up.
“No, no, I won't be long anyway,” I said before running out after Marcus.
I opened the back door and closed it behind me. I looked around and as expected there were only dumpsters.
I advanced towards one of them and looked behind it, but nothing-
“What are you doing?”
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
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#horror#x male y/n#x male reader#x transmasc reader#wattpad#chapter 1#romantic yandere#yandere#yandere male#yandere original character#yandere oc#gay#fantasy#plot twists#analogue horror#scp#tadc#x female reader#x transfem reader#half of these tags have nothing to do with the story#SIN#yandere male x male reader#male x male#i’m back#ao3 tags#original story#orignal writing#original content#original idea#fnaf
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