#Past Justice Part IV | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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❝I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage. I will not be swept aside.❞

[ The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should have known his wife better— or at least, her ire, for when his trysts with the bastard Snow reached the Spiders and soon, the ears of his Princess Consort, rage and war drummed for Winterfell, demanding heads.

—Maestre Kevan, Volume IV of The Bastard Eater, passage chapter under 'The Flame that Sung for the North'. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 10,062 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), one-sided aegon ii x reader, jace x sara snow

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader, targcest, smut, angst - post-vizzy t death, rhaenyra is queen - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - allusions to infidelity & character death(s) - targaryen madness, revenge, domestic violence (not jace), unhinge behaviour, intense use of 'bastard', profanity, gaslighting, guilt-tripping - this is basically gone girl, you gone girl jace - dark fic - mentions of depression (aegon ii), allusions to suicide (not reader) - nsfw: oral (f receiving), breeding kink, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i didn't think i was going to do the sara snow thing, but herewe are. also i just wanted an excuse to go absolutely ape shit. reader gets very intense, like thoroughly unhinged. this is literally me supporting women's wrongs. it is also quite insane that this reached 10k and it's still just the first part lmaooo + comment, reblog & like at will!

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! THAT GODSDAMNED, WHORE-FUCKING STRONG HALF BREED!"

Your shrieks echo stone and shadow, interrupted only by the things you pick up and hurl. Anything your hands grab, you throw and spit obscenities against, rage and tears ruin your pretty visage. The fury swept past your cherub features, a dragon breaking through the Hightower seams, upending fire and roar from the pits of your being.

"HOW DARE HE?! I GAVE HIM AN HEIR! I BROUGHT HIM PEACE! I BETRAYED—" you roar, pulling your pearl dagger— a gift from your Strong Bastard of a Husband — and throwing it to your vanity mirror, glass shards exploding. "— MY KIN!"

"DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"

Arms wound across your torso—hardened and chain-mail — as you fight against your bounds before a pain flashes to your cheek. Your rage quiets, hard breaths from your lungs. You turn your tear-stained anger to your mother and her palm, fright and terror on her regale visage.

Death of a spouse becomes the Queen Dowager in her pale blue robe and unbound spirals of auburn hair. Peace had begotten a realm that is balanced on the lineage you had produced for the Queen, her heir, and your own, as the new Princess of Dragonstone. With Otto Hightower for evermore banished to Oldtown, Kings Landing had been brought to a flowering kindness.

Queen Rhaenyra's ascension had been a wondrous affair, fit the for the first crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regent. An heir who rose for the crown always meant to be hers.

But the calamity that brewed in her ascension... no. You paved the peace. T'was you who wrangled the Great Houses that proved allyship to your twin brother's banner, you who blessed her with tranquility of a rule that will be known for ages that will precede you all.

And now her son... her son dared to destroy everything.

A conversation floats above your head, by your Queen Mother and her sworn shield, the Ser Cole, but you barely hear anything past the ringing in your head.

The Targaryen Madness the sheep so call it, an idle voice, faint and familiar, whispers in the niches of your brain. It has infected you so. It breathes, fuelled by the air wrought by your husband's betrayal. It sings, sweet love. It sings.

"—your grace, I urge to hold her—"

"—she is my daughter, Ser Cole, I am not in danger. Release her."

Justice, the voice shrieks? Screams? But it is so soft in your head, a wail of a memory, a woman or a man? must be had. No dragon falls in such disgrace.

The tight wound over your torso is unleashed but the knight is not far, tensed to cage you, when your mother grasps your elbows as you grab hers, nails digging into the thick fabric of her hem that she still winces, your grip steel-tight.

"My darling, please. I cannot help you if you do not speak what ails you." She brushes her hand desperately across your face, smearing your tears, trying to find the daughter she bore past the savagery and madness that beholds you now. "What has happened?"

You draw a tightened, harsh breath to your lungs, rattling your bones that you quiver in your attempt for sanity.

"I am being shamed, mother," you whisper. Stark, violet eyes meeting the worried round, brown of hers. "The Strong bastard is whoring himself to another, a Northern bastard."

A cackle falls your lips as alarmed gazes are exchanged above your head.

"Y-You cannot say such things aloud, sweet girl," your mother hushes your madness, pulling you close to her chest as she shoots a glance at the door.

Criston checks outside, but only your maids linger. Dyanna presses a finger against her lips, catching the knight's eye, and the rest scatter, surely to make sure that no one that need not know of their mistress' words is within reach. A shiver still runs his spine. He will never get used to the quiet, almost non-verbal way your connection worked and reached. Your Spiders weave webs all around, even as their mistress sunders with rage.

"Mayhaps you are mistaken, for sure the prince is loyal, and he adores you—"

You pull back against her, teeth bared. She flinches and Ser Cole steps forward, wary. "It is the third missive now that I have received. Did you think I would not have confirmed twice— thrice? I didn't believe it the first time! But three people have now confirmed that all this time, in the guise of rallying his mother's cause in the North, he is spending ample time with the Lord Stark's bastard sister. His bastard fucking sister!"

Your mother's horror catches that of Ser Criston's, but your fury is your own, you are a dragon trapped in the ruin of your own making, of the webs you had spun so cleverly to get to this point, and you cannot stop.

"I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage, my blood spilled the birthing bed for it." A cry leaves your lips as your grief and rage pools like ichor from your chest to the floor. Alicent is torn away from you— your nails had gone through her robe and she had cried in pain, a mimick of your own, a mother to a daughter to a mother to a daughter, a cycle, an Ouroboros — and you fall to the floor, grasping at your chest.

"I will not be swept aside. I will not be ignored."

A gasp falls from your lips as your mind moves to a quiet, still place. The tremble fades, your rage and grief whirls, collects, as you push it all back inside your chest.

Your madness must be sharpened for it be used as a sword.

And you cannot let him be happy in another's arms.

If you cannot drag them to the Hells, sweet dragon, the idle voice hums, hisses? Screeches. Your ancestors— all of those who have succumbed to dreamy madness — appears in the corners of your vision like soldiers. Awaiting for you to join them. Awaiting the blood that you will spill.

Then you must raise the Hells unto Winterfell.

"...my daughter?" Alicent calls, hesitant. Cole hovers but does not approach, standing guard in protection of the Dowager. It breaks her heart to see you this way, a young woman still, much older than she was when she married but only because you had always sought your future. You had always had a hardened scale, far stronger than she.

Even when you made your entrance to the world— the unmeasurable pain of bringing not one, but two heirs into the world, her firstborns, all at once — you had never cried. The maestres, maids, they worried for you, as your twin brother had not stopped crying, so alive and red, raw from the wound of being fresh.

But you... you had not made a sound.

The entire weight of your being— your mind, your emotions — even then, you wrangled them close to your very centre, never letting them stray too far from the edges of your fingertips. As if any release must be made with a perused thought. An incentive of reason.

Even then, you plotted every step you took.

Now, Alicent watches as her firstborn daughter suctions all her emotions— that Targaryen madness that plagued the blood of her husband, his ancestors — and made her ploy.

Against the husband that dared make a fool of her.

The silence beckons nightmare. Old fear flickers inside the Queen Dowager.

"Where are my daughters?"

"What?"

"My daughters," you repeat, a hair's breadth louder than the first time you spoke. Your eyes flutter upward. The deadened gaze curled Alicent's heart in fear. "Where are they?"

"In the nursery, with the twins and Maelor. Helaena and Aegon are watching them."

You offer your hand up mutely, and Cole exchanges one last, lingering look with the Dowager, before offering his own. You stand up, thank him softly, and brush and clean up your face to the best of your ability. An utter calmness over your visage.

"Tell no one of what I had told you," you say, fixing your hair and rubbing the red from your cheeks. One minute there is madness, the next there is nothing. There is only a girl. A woman. A princess. "No one knows apart the three of us, and if you ever decide, Ser Criston, that nigh is the glorious time for you to betray my mother or I, know that the last thing thing oyu will fear is the Stranger's hand when I am through with you."

Your mother shouts your name, horrified. "What are you thinking? What are you plotting?"

You cup Alicent's face, smiling ever sweet. "Your innocence will keep you safe, mother. All I ask, for the heart you keep for your children, that you keep this between sealed lips and tilted chin. You know nothing, yes?"

"... Yes. Nothing."

You place a tender kiss on your mother's head. "Keep Daenera and Aemma safe for me. Aegon and I are flying to Dragonstone promptly. Sweet Helaena does ever so get overwhelmed by watching all of the children by herself."

"D-Dragonstone?"

Your sweet smile touched with poison, stretches. "It is high time I take a dragon for myself, don't you think so?"

While an insecure obsession had fraught your younger brother about claiming a dragon, you had met it with indifference.

For how can you not mourn the loss of Aemond's sight, staring in quiet horror the entire time as the maestre did his best to salvage the muck mess of blood and nerve endings, before the old man had shaken his head, and you turned to the small bowl that contained your brother's eye, unable to look at anything else.

Not even when your mother's rage was met with apathy and anger, her demands for justice nothing more than a woman's insanity, a mother's grief that must be swept away, tucked under a chin and a sadness she will never get rid of.

"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

Your soft-hearted, darling, baby brother. None of his words had thawed the freezing of your heart, the grief under the swell of your breastbone.

Your own mourning was kept between teeth and tongue, as you had slept with your siblings that night. The four of you, tucked under the wing of the other, Aemond close to your chest as possible, as quiet, hot tears ran down your face. Every moan of pain or whimper he made in his sleep tore at each new vein inside of you.

"Dragons are the symbol of our House's power," Aegon had once said, windswept hair you tried to tame with your fingers, smelling fresh of Sunfyre and winds.

"And yet, there were no eggs in our child beds." He stiffened while you smiled sadly, curling your twin's hair away form his face, making him presentable and dusting the bout of sand that managed to find his leathers. You had been scolded long before by your grandsire of how you coddle Aegon, how you defend him, mother him more than your mother ever could, but you cannot stop. You were meant to care for him, tethered you once were inside your mother's womb together, you hold him steady now.

Whenever he was lost, whenever his sadness overtook him, wrung your brother dry of life, you bat the Stranger's hand and bring him back.

"But we have proved them wrong," he insisted. "All of us, even Aemond with Vhagar— the war queen, Visenya's dragon — we have claimed ours. Daeron all the way Oldtown has Tessarion, even Helaena has Dreamfyre. And yet you insist..."

You wound your arms over his torso, keeping him close in a silly hug where you sway and dance him around. A laugh escaped him while you inhaled the scent of smoke, soot, and that grime stench of beast.

Aegon on his good days lacked the bottle-edge of wine, of cheap salts from the waft of the soiled, Silk Streets.

This was your brother. No one else.

"I fare better without one," you whispered in his ear. "I appear innocent, sweet almost, without a beast in my command. They look at me with nothing but pity and the urge to protect me. Our father likes me like this, his poor, lovely daughter without a dragon of her own, listening so intently to his histories of Old Valyria. Our sister is eased, as one daughter is plagued by dreams and struggles with the real world, while the other cannot even claim a dragon of her own. Poor princess, Hightower blood must have thickened in her veins. She too, is no threat."

You pulled back, smiling at him. "They like me better like this. Pitiful, compliant, nothing but a sweet and pretty flower that sways in the Spring breeze. A beautiful decoration but no more."

He rubbed a thumb on your arm, a worry knot on his forehead. Aegon adored you but he struggled to piece together where your plot lies. You are a web-spinner, forever dancing out of reach, catching prey and lengthening your intricacies. "Is that why you hide your training with Aemond alone? Ser Criston is mother's sworn shield, he would not mind—"

"I will not place my secrecies to a knight with a soiled cloaked," you snorted. "No matter how tall he stands beside our mother. I trust no one but my kin. And I know that no matter how heavy you drink, sweet Aeg of mine, my secrets are your own."

He took your hand, kissing the back of it, stare impregnable. "As your blood is my own, our fire is one flame. I go where you tell me to."

You kissed his cheek, a reward, laughing. He smiles proudly at the sound. At this time, you dangled yourself to your brother as bait as the pressure from your grandsire to make him King started rising. You had been given notice that he had been talking to House Lannister, Wylde, even some Riverland lords.

You did not mind becoming Aegon's second wife. Just as his namesake, he will have his Rhaenys and Visenya. Unlike the Conqueror however, he would adore his Visenya more than a true flower. Helaena would enjoy that far better.

"And if I tell you to jump?" you half-purred.

"I will ask you how high."

Memories and choices break and tide as you scramble for hold on the rocky cliff face. Dragonmont in the dark is a behemoth beast, a screech or two breaking like lightning crackles, or the familiar drum beat of wings before the silence consumes once more. The stench of fire, of beasts and carcasses helps cloak the darkened night.

"Udligon ñuha brōzagon, Answer my call," you hiss into fraudulent emptiness, hands gripping rocky edges until your blood beads, "you fucking lizards."

"Have you gone mad!?"Aegon shouted, trying to pace with your run to the dragonpit.

A rocky laugh broke out from your being, not deigning that with a reply. Aegon huffed angrily.

"Alright, tell me this then. How are you so sure I'm not just about to put you on a bleeding volcano to die? We claim your dragon in the morn, sister. First thing before we break our fast. I'm sure by then, Vermithor or—"

You whipped your head around, pulling halt. "I leave tonight to claim my dragon. Whether it is you and Sunfyre who gets me there, or Aemond and Vhagar, is no matter to me. I will claim one tonight. It is up to you to decide now if we tell Aemond or not."

Aemond, whose anger is wounded tight, the barest excuse for war always at the edge of his hum. The misstep at Storm's End had cost him everything. Had cost your mother everything. Queen still, Alicent Hightower had bent the knee and offered her life in exchange for mercy. Before Rhaenyra passed judgement, Viserys I had passed.

It didn't matter that you had ensured a higher dosage from the Harrenhal witch in his usual milk of the poppy. Your spiders moving with ease through the silent channels you had established long before your own flowering.

The Red Keep had scrambled, the Heir with it. It was enough time for Lucerys to have come out of the red, confirmed to live through the worst of it without as much as a broken bone. Arrax however, had been badly maimed, and would no longer take flight. But he and his rider would live. Aemond would live. Alicent would have her son. Rhaenyea will have hers, and the crown.

Kevan had done his duty unto you while you settled the storms in Dragonstone. You rewarded him handsomely.

Aegon sighed. He too, would like your honour avenged, but not for the sake of war. "As you wish, sister. I hope you know what you're doing and I am not about to send you to your death."

Just like what you did to your mother, you reached forward and cupped his face. If before, your touch stills his heart and floods his cavities with warmth, a flash of fear strikes the twin son at the eerie smile on your face.

"Skoros morghot vestri? What do we say to the god of death?"

Aegon blinked. "Tubī daor. Not today."

You smiled. "Trust me, sweet Aeg. It is not my death the Stranger will take. Not until the fjords of the North are at my mercy."

"Iksan kesīr sir naejot māzigon ñuha sikagon pakto! I am here now to claim my birth right!" Your scream echoes and falls, repeating back to you. There is a hum, like an electric current that sizzles and pops inside your blood and marrow, and you scramble higher and higher on the rock. Your blood does not sing for the dragon lairs, but above. Up and up, jagged edges cut your skin and dress, the wind whipping with sea mist, but nothing, no one, can clamour you as you reach the peak.

At first you see nothing but darkness and hollow sounds. But you let your eyes adjust, a hiss breaking out of your dry lips as you stumble. You look down. What you first thought were rocks and wayward bones of cattle is bigger.

Whale? No.

Dragon. Dragon bone.

You look and will every sense that your eyes do not. The smell that is drowned— iron. Bones bigger than a person. Than cows and whales. Bones of fearsome beasts. Darkness moves, taking form, more than shadow. Scales hewn rough and jagged, as if stone themselves. Midnight black moving with the gentlest of sighs.

As soon as you realise what— or who — is in front of you, the eyes open with an intelligent gleam. Your heart jolts at the emerald irises that gaze back at you, slitting at the appearance of a human.

'The stench of death follows him', the voice of an old keeper hums into your ear. You no longer remember who told this to you, but the words ring true in your memory. 'Scales of midnight, as if hewn from darkness and death. A harbinger, your grace, an omen of the darkest nightmares.'

"Rytsas. Hello." You smile, ever sweet, ever charming.

This is a thread you had never felt before. Not one of your own making, but something older. A golden thread that led the eyes of Daenys the Dreamer. That spun the ties of Aegon the Conqueror. The voices that herded your madness had gone quiet in the mad rush to get here, but now their presence thickens. Words you cannot hear, nor understand, flood the silence as dragon met rider for the first time.

Keepers and historians have called him he, but every bone in your body tells you that the being before you is a she.

And wouldn't that make sense? A cannibalistic being is a woman?

She opens her maw, only ever slightly, smoke and fire crackling out of it. Molten lava in the belly of her insides tease the cool, night air and warms you.

Her version of a smile. Hello, she seem to say.

"Māzīs. Come," you say, giggling. "Dohaerās. Serve."

That night, you took your first flight.

That night, the Cannibal took her first flight with her first— and only — rider as well.

❝ . . . It is said that the formerly named "The Cannibal" had been entranced by the hunger of his new— first and evermore — rider. Prince Aegon the Elder who had escorted his twin sister that very night with Sunfyre, had looked up in alarm and fright to a maddened screech. Excitement and laughter pouring out from the newly bonded Dragon and Rider had soon turned fear into awe.

Gaelithox, she had been named as they had ridden until dawn broke by the rider who loved her 'till the end of their days, was said to have seen a mirror in Her Grace. The fathomless hunger for blood and organ from the same bodies of their kin. For Gaelithox ever hungers and satisfies for the same meat as her, at the height of her grief and ire that fuelled the Queen Consort to climb Dragonmont by hand, she too hungered for the throats of her traitorous blood.

Gaelithox will only have one rider in her whole life, as she found no same twin soul as akin in the Bastard Eater Queen. Their bond moved as if two bodies beheld one soul.

She shied from humans, and oft found too rough with other dragons. Vhagar was an exception, oft seen acting as an elder sister to the Queen's dragon when neither royal rode them and played in the skies. Smaller dragons were forbidden to approach her however, nor was she allowed in the dragonpit after almost devouring the flightless Arrax.

She died two moons after the Queen's death, delivering her final flames for her rider and would never more breathe her infamous green flames akin to Wildfire, ordered by the Crowned Heir, Princess Daenera Velaryon. It is said that the princess attempted to bond with the cannibalistic dragon but it refused.

The dragon spent her last moons in heartbreak, oft seen in Dragonstone and the Red Keep, circling her rider's most favourite places. Her final resting place is at the very top of Dragonmont from whence the Queen claimed her. It is said that the Queen's crown, the one the King Jacaerys had gifted her after the birth of their first sons, the Princes Laenor and Gaemon, is said to be placed there, as well as a portion of her ashes.

It is said that the King and the Queen's twin brother, the Prince Aegon, personally made the trek in remembrance.

It is widely suspected that Aelyx, Princess Daella's dragon, the youngest child of the King and Queen, may have been Gaelithox's only existing hatchling for he too is made of rough, midnight scales. The dragon that bred with her remains to be unknown. ❞

—Maestre Kevan Noratz, Volume X of The Life and Lies of the Emerald Flame, passage chapter under 'The Time of Hunger: Gaelithox'.

You leave Gaelithox to a mournful goodbye on Dragonstone, pressing your forehead against her hard, scaly head, promising to come back, of exchanging her diet for fat, juicy whales, for more wind-whipped rides, before riding back on Sunfyre with Aegon. The younger dragon would not rise from the beaches in fear of the cannibalistic elder, but you made ensuring promises to teach Gaelithox not to chew your dearest brother's dragon.

You had gone most of your life without the feeling of a bond beneath you, warm and alive and wild, and the roar and stench that though new, felt so familiar in your ribcage— you will fly again. And with your brothers beside you. With Helaena and her lovely Dreamfyre.

To think they had taken this from you too, to placate them. To play into their hands like a mewling kitten.

No more.

It is paces before fast is about to break when you both touch back down to Kings Landing. The Keep busying with its occupants, servants and maids bolstering with quickened feet to ensure the lords and royals are awakened with full, poached meals, dresses and coats readied for their lords and ladies, a new, glorious day under the Reign of the Black Queen.

"What now?" Aegon asks, trying to keep with your pace but he is fatigued, failing to stop his yawns. The excitement of last night had come upon him like a fog, and he is missing his bed. Hells, he is missing the bed he stays with his wife if it meant he would get a full night's sleep in the hours of the day.

"Now, we speak nothing of what happened."

He turns to you, frowning. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." You beam, nodding in favour of soldiers and maids who bow in reverence to the Crown Princess. You know you smell of dragon and night, and you need a bath. And to talk to Dyanna before you seek your daughters. "I will need time and people. The board must still be set for me to perfectly execute what I have in store."

"Alright." He yawns again. "I'll be in my quarters, passed out, if you need me. Please do not need me until sup."

You laugh breathlessly, grabbing his hand and giving it a wet kiss. "I will give you your rest, be assured. Kirimvose, dōna lēkia, Thank you, sweet brother."

The words are simple, said in a quiet murmur heavy with love and meaning. Aegon presses a loving kiss to your head, unable to stop himself winding an arm around you.

"Syt ao, va moriot, ñuha prūmia. For you, always, my heart."

As you break to each other's chambers— his, to sleep, you, already meeting Yna and requesting for a bath — you don't notice the lurker that watched the intimate moment between twins, humming in amusement before it moves to follow you.

Back in your quarters— your marriage quarters as Jacaerys had requested that you forgo having your own, not wishing to part with you — the maids are already busying themselves airing the room, moving to follow your usual routine. The only thing breaking it is the tub now in the centre.

"Thank you," you say to Yna as she picks out the pins from your hair, shrugging off your dress in the process as soon as the maids had untangled the lace behind you.

"Call for Dyanna," you tell them as they bow and leave, the door clicking softly behind them. Plans must be made. Bath for now.

With the world stifled for a second, left with only you and your thoughts, you plunge your body under too-hot water, sighing against the aches and pains in your body. Dragon-riding is a new endeavour to your muscles, and though enjoyable, was still too new.

You sigh as tears fall from your eyes, blinking exhaustedly against soft, humming daylight. You had always known that love, as it is, is a maiden's folly. A foolish, hapless play meant to fool young girls into thinking the world is kind; a pretty place.

It was an even farther thought from you, a princess of the realm. At a young age, it has been drilled to you that your womb is a rare commodity. Your body has never been your own, a piece meant to be moved in a bigger game that you are used for, not play.

You weren't stupid.

If there's a few things Otto Hightower had ever granted you, apart from gifting you his keen prowess in moving power beneath your fingertips, in hungering for more, for better— it is understanding what each person is, who they can be, how you can move them. A flatter, a flair, a push. As a man, there is much to be desired about your grandsire; he used people, used family to pursue power, but you can't truly fault him for that as you were the same.

You just took better care of the people under your wing.

And for Jace, you had banished him.

The worst part, you knew there was a good, fat chance you would care for the princeling. He was a kind man, a sweet man, and with a guiding hand, you could forge yourself the best husband for yourself as much as you can mould a great king and a wonderful father. Women's hands are ever carved to mould and prod men. We stand behind, a presence or a hand, an echo of power.

But your Jace had surpassed it all, and in the moons leading up to your present day, to giving him his heirs, two beautiful daughters, the promised full Valyrian colouring in the silver hair in Daenera, your eldest, the wide, violet gaze in Aemma— the name of his mother's mother, a request of him that you had kindly, graciously fucking agreed to — of course there is a part of you, the girlish, tender heart that you long thought you had buried to get here, would fall for the brown-eyed, wondrous man.

You sink deeper into the tub, sighing as you let yourself unravel—

When you feel it. A presence in your room. It's soft. Silent. Not a lot would feel as such, but as paranoid as you are, as you keep your spiders clean and pretty with your dewy-eyed webs— you know better.

Your mind runs with ideas on who it might be, and come to a few people. No true name rises. The Red Keep is flooded with spies and traitors. You test your luck, sitting up on the tub, raising an arm over the lip of it and flicking water with your fingertips.

"If you are here to kill me, I'm afraid it will be a lost cause."

He laughs, sardonic and edged and familiar, jetting a tingle down your spine.

Well. There's getting a calm bath.

"Perceptive as always, niece," he says, heavy footfalls approaching now that he has been caught. "I'm just here to say hello."

You raise your eyes, mouth curled but unsmiling at the man who acts as the biggest thorn to your plots. Daemon Targaryen has never fallen through your webs, on guard against your flatter, your push, or your flair. Of course, taking the position of his daughter might have forever burnt that road, but you would think he'd ease up just a little bit when his wife, the Queen, had warmed to you considerably.

Unlike your mother, you had never been hostile to your bitch of an elder sister. Just like your plots for Aegon and Jacaerys, and nodding along to thread your father had started but abandoned, foolishly thinking the realm would follow without him fully ensuring your sister's claim to the throne— you carefully maintained a polite farce with Rhaenyra.

Ultimately, this became a boon to you, as she had responded positively to your abrupt marriage to her son, even reminding her deranged guard dog of their own marriage. The cream to your lemon cake had been when you birthed Aemma, the Queen's most favourite grandchild thus far. When she was a babe, Rhaenyra was never far; almost, always holding your daughter, cooing at her cheeks, remarking her likeness to her namesake with pure fondness.

But Daemon Targaryen knew, in the deepness of his marrow, that there is something wrong with you.

"Hello," you answer primly. He laughs, leaning against the passage to your open balcony. "We could have had this elating greeting at fast, if you wish to break it with me and my own."

He scoffs, unable to hide his disdain at the thought. It breaks his stare of your naked visage. Men. "I would rather jump to the fighting pits, good daughter."

"How rude. Is that all?" You meet his gaze steadily, tilting your head. "If it is not obvious yet, good father, I am bathing."

An amused smirk. "I can see that." Lecherous fucking geezer. "No matter. I just have a... curious thought, a wonder I suspect you may be able to answer. See. Truly odd it is, for the keepers to alert me this morning that Sunfyre had taken a ride past the Hour of Owl." Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you do your best to keep your expression mildly irritated. "Not with one, drunken rider, but with another. It had taken them hours, only coming back when morning had already presented in the air."

He steps forward, slow, menacing, until he reaches the edge of your tub and crouches. Your gazes are still unmatched in height, defiant as yours might be.

"The distinct smell wafts them, a Keeper said, and one suspects that though one dragon left last night, two might have come back this morning for he had seen another fly away." His fingers dips into the water, swirling the steam without breaking eye contact. "I wonder if you know anything about it, darling niece of mine."

The mocking emphasis is not lost on you. If the Queen is the Realm's Delight, you were Darling of the Realm. A sweet, merry girl, the secondborn daughter of Viserys I who frequently fought for the plight of the small folk, who gathered friends of all kinds of lords and ladies no matter the standing of their houses to her own, visiting far lands and charming every person in any room. Who made any feast brighter, always sparkling, always the darling.

Less of a dragon, more of a fairytale.

You sit up, leaning, baring your breasts completely to him as you pull yourself up on the ledge he is crouched from. He leans back, only slightly, as you smile demurely. Sweet. Tart. On the edge of pulling his head and hitting it against the copper tub.

"I am unsure of what you suspect, or is accusing me of, kepus, uncle," you purr and there's a twitch in his mouth, a widen in his irises— men are so fucking simple — "I had been feeling down last night, as my husband, as you know, is beyond my reach at the moment as he rallies alliances for the good of the realm. My brother had simply offered to take me out riding, trying to quell my loneliness with an excitable flight I had never been afforded."

You tilt your head. "Even if there had been a dragon binded to my own, why why would I not regale the realm with news of my success? I have longed for a dragon of my own, but alas, I have not quite succeeded where most of the family have." You pout. His eyes flicker. "Mayhaps I am more Hightower than I am Targaryen."

A huff leaves his lips, the amusement in his smile arching to his dark, dark gaze. Before you can react, his hand had comes forward to hold your chin in a tight grip, your jaw aching soon enough at the fingers that dig against your skin, wanting to bruise, to break.

Though a tremble passes your body, you keep his stare, gritting your teeth as the pad of his thumb brushes your lips. Moments and desires thrum between a charged hatred.

The lust is twisted from wanting to fuck you to wanting to kill you. The line is not simple. Maybe that is your fate together.

But he can't. You are well too ingrained in his family now, loved by the people he cared about. You are untouchable. For now. This is a warning, waiting for you to stutter, to show your hand. Any show of your true intentions... he is more than happy to swing Dark Sister across your throat.

He releases you without another word, standing up and leaving through the front door, the door clicking shut.

You sink back into the bath, letting the water engulf you.

Your daughters are moons apart in birth, and there are only a few differences between them that people oft remarked they could be twins. Daenera is taller, spindly. Built like Aemond when he was younger. Her hair is spun moon and eyes of mullish blue. It reminds you of Daeron's eyes. You had named Daenera yourself, a gruelling birth that took the entire night. You promised Jacaerys he could name the second. He had chosen Aemma for a girl, Laenor for a boy.

Not a few moons later, you were with child again. Your husband pinked at the cheeks at the chiding from his family. When she cried into the afternoon sun—Aemma was born mid day, during a council meeting — he pain did not stop the laugh that came out of your mouth from the horrified expression from the Master of Coin as your water broke.

Aemma had a sweetheart face, cheeks much fatter than her older sister's, with a yellowish tinge to her hair, curlier too, reminding you of Aegon. And Aemma laughed more, her deep, violet eyes always half closed as she exploded in giggles and bright, sunshine happiness.

Sons they might not be, but you had given heirs for the throne. And for them, you would do anything to keep their futures intact. Bond with a dragon, face the Rogue Prince, upheave Winterfell. Anything.

You flounce to the nursery where you know the two would be, smiling sweetly at every person you pass as they bow in reverence. Most wore sights of confusion, their greedy eyes and wagging tongues drinking in the deep, emerald glisten of your gown.

It's an old dress, one you keep in the corner of your collection. It isn't as if you had forgo the colours of your mother's house, but playing court meant every movement, even the clothes you wear, can be meaningful. And since your marriage, your Jace liked you in Velaryon colours.

"A goddess come to bless," he gasped against your collarbone, keeping your legs high on his waist as he rutted into you before his teeth sunk on your skin. As newlyweds go, there is not a lot of teasing to be had for your husband to curl against you in a darkened alcove. Merely wearing his favourite colour on your skin has him panting like a dog. His favourite dress is a seafoam blue that dragged longer against the ground in a soft, almost-gossamer material with a silver belt.

Enticing him never took long, but you enjoyed the dance presented. You enjoyed the dark hunger that filled him until he grabbed you to take you because he just had to take you.

The fresh wound slices deeper as you imagine all the things Jacaerys is doing to the so called Sara Snow. The emerald green of your gown shimmers with your anger.

"Fucking bastards," you can't help but say aloud, nodding at the guards posted on the nursery as you hear the squeals of your daughter and the calm, even voice of your brother.

"Muña! Mother!" Aemma squeals, untangling herself from being pressed against Aegon's side as the children— Daenera and Jaehaera — cuddle around him, before running to you. Helaena is on the floor, entertaining baby Maelor. Your mother, hands twisting against her own, stands vigil by the window, staring far ahead.

You catch your secondborn, giggling as you pressed kiss after kiss on her face.

"I see everyone has started without me. Where is Jaehaerys?"

"You were late, sodjisto, aunt," Jaehaera grins gummily. Jahaera is only a year older than Daenera. Your daughters, five and a half and five respectively. "Jaehaerys is with kepus, uncle. They are training."

"Smart girl." You meet your brother's gaze, whose eyes had notably been staring at your dress, mouth turned down. "Why don't you three play with Helaena? I shall speak about Name Day gifts for your Uncle Joffrey for a bit, hm?"

As Aemma shrieks something about cakes, and Daenera dutifully kissing your cheek in greeting before she takes Jaehaera's hand, you turn to your brother and mother.

"Aemond?" you ask softly, keeping your voice out of earshot. Alicent shakes her head. You nod. "Good. We don't want him inciting a war before I have mine properly planned."

As the Dowager draws in a sharp inhale, Aegon grabs your hands, the worry pulled taunt in his eyebrows. "Are you seriously contemplating war, sister? Isn't there a better way to punish them?"

"What punishment does a man regale in?" you hiss, stepping close to him. "Or the Queen's heir for the bloody matter? When Aemond nearly killed Lucerys, and he confronted me as if I had ordered Vhagar to tear through his brother, I thought I had put to bed any doubts in our marriage. It seems that men stray, regardless. My daughters may be his heir now, but what is to say that bastard wildling he's found himself cock deep in produces a son? Will he shame me with a mistress? Or will he shame me with a second wife?"

Your mother's lips tightens, her fingers paling at how tight she is gripping her nerves.

"Bastard or not, if he takes her to wife, I will be nothing. Make that babe a son, and the realm will rally for it. Daenera is his heir. My daughters will not be forgone. I will not be pushed aside. This is mercy, brother," you say softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "My last one. It requires time, moons, to unfurl. It requires seeding doubt and unfathomable inadequacy. Better if Aemond is none the wiser, Helaena the same. But I will need both of you for this to work. It is the only time I will ever ask. For me. For my daughters."

"And you will punish Winterfell with a war?" your mother asks, frown pulled deep. "That is the plan?"

"I will not. I won't do such a thing so blatant, mother, you know me better than that. But this is my last mercy, and it will be the last. For the next time he offends me so, I do not care if Rhaenyra feeds me to Syrax. I will put a dagger through his heart, heir or not."

The Prince Jacaerys comes back not a week later. Though he comes back to the same castle with the same occupants— your shiny new threads gleam. The stage has been set, a play ready to act. You had sent more spiders in the North, keeping a close eye to every blasphemy your husband has been enjoying in the absence of his duties, and as the rage in you quietly grew with each new whisper, your determination hardens.

You mark each indescretion. You keep a tally.

You count for each fall your blow will land on him.

Vermax lands with a screech and a heavy thump, your husband leaping off him with a grin on his face, matching the one you own, waving your arm joyously with Aemma in your arm and Daenera beside you, holding to your skirt as she grinned at her father.

Aemma wiggles under your hold, and you let Jace get close enough before you set her down, laughing, "Okay, okay!" Her laughter carries through as she scrambles like a bull to her father. A squeal peals out of her as Jace picks her up just in time and tosses her in the air.

"Want to meet kepa, father, sweet girl?" you whisper to Daenera, running a hand down her hair before she nods, breaking out into her own sprint, hugging her father as he greets them with laughter and kisses.

You let them have their time, and this, at least, eases your heart truthfully. A kind reminder that Jace adores his daughters.

You stay at the edge of the entrance, your too-wide grin softens into a smile. You were dramatic, nothing new about that, but even in the pale, pearl blue of your dress in silky, Myrish lace, the emeralds in your heavy, golden belt winks. Green ribbons twisted in your hair alongside fresh flowers. When the trio of your family treks toward you, silver-haired babes clinging to your dark haired prince, you serve a wink at the girls and they untangle themselves from their father while you stepped forward.

A choreographed dance, not giving him time to think. To pause.

Every step is calculated, every item on your body— the silk, the small seahorse that locks your dress behind you, the tint on your lips to the oil in your hair and body — is made to perform. You engulf him in you as if you want to suffocate his senses, your arms wrapping around him with sweet kisses pressing on his face, his neck.

Most in the dragonpit looked away, others, scandalously amazed and enchanted, watch as the princess is undeniably enthralled with her lord husband.

His laughter rumbles across his body, infecting your own, smelling of dragonback and crisp winds. You wonder if your nose is more heightened, you would be able to smell his whore in him, but you don't. It's just him. Your Jace.

Your body moulds against his as his arms tightens around you. When you lean back, you sweetly press a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning.

"What is this?" he huffs a laugh, meeting your doeful gaze. Your fingers curl around his chin, his cheek, idly tapping and touching as if you are committing so much newness to memory.

"Kostagon iā ābrazȳrys daor jaelagon zirȳla valzȳrys? Can a wife not want her husband?" you ask softly, pressing a few more kisses before sucking the last one just under his ear. His body shudders. You hide your smirk. "Skori ēza issare qrīdrughagon tolī bōsa? When he has been away too long?"

A yearning look tints your gaze from under your lashes, and you have to stifle the winning smirk as guilt pinches his face.

"My apologies, my wife. I did not mean to be away from you for long. From the girls." As his eyes flick to his daughters, your mask momentarily sharpens into clear distaste. The urge to dig your fingers into his eyes until he is bleeding and screaming under you is one you tamper with great distress.

Did not mean...

Did not mean to have a dalliance with another woman?

Did not mean to fall into bed with a fucking bastard, you insidious cunt, while I await here with your heirs?

Your anger thrums, nestled deep in your heart, it breathes. You school your face the moment he turns back to you, bringing your hands to his lips, kissing each finger with reverent tenderness. His brown eyes smoulder, rubbing your bare— irises widening — back.

"If you wish it, I can be on my knees for my apologies, my princess."

Your mouth curls. "I'm afraid that might have to be quite later, my prince."

"Huh?"

"The Dowager Queen hoped to congratulate you on your successful campaigning. Reaching as far as the North so frequently, we planned a feast for your return." Eyes shinning, you cup his face. You hope the guilt eats him raw from the inside out. Like worms. Like termites. Hungry, hungry, hungry. "We have never been more proud of you, I have never been more proud of you."

You laugh brightly, ignoring the way he squeezed you just a bit harder that mere second the same time his eyes tightened. "The moment I told the girls of it, they had begged to dance with you." Then you bit your lip, frowning slightly. "I... I understand if you are tired, 'tis a long journey after all, I did try to tell them you might want to rest, we can sneak you—"

"No, no, my heart, of course I would be happy to, I— I want nothing more." He brings you close, face disappearing into your neck. "Thank you. I love you."

You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. "As I love you."

For the rest of the feast, you dance just at the edges of his fingertips, ensuring that you permeated his sights and senses despite it. A game. A dance. When he thanks revelries who congratulate him, who ask him of his adventures, you proudly stand beside him, dutiful as the wife that you are, spearing him with compliments as much as you can. Hands squeezing his arm, your oils swallowing him with your smell.

When dinner came, you take chances massaging his thigh, sliding a salacious grin that had him blushing, ever so sweet, green— making you wonder what kind of fucking bastards do that he finds your attention so swallowing.

You don't let up.

Whenever he, in turn made a move, you sidestep, flutter a smirk, a wink; always escaping, letting him grow frustrated as the night went on.

Your one respite from taunting him had been when he danced with his daughters, making a gallant show of asking them, even Jaehaera. Giggles and spins, the ladies of the court fawn and coo.

Even now, you're making him to be the perfect man. The endearing husband, the wondrous father, the brilliant prince, the perfect lord.

To execute your plan, it must be made with a surgical precision. A slice that guts him to his knees, that breaks his spirit and quenches the whispering, wicked madness nestling with your ire. On another cheek, he must remain upright and upstanding, as to keep your daughters' future in perfect order.

You catch the domineering gaze of Daemon Targaryen, idle as he is, on the side of his distracted Queen, talking to a highborn lady. You don't look away as you toast him your cup of Arbour Red before you pucker your lips for a taste. Your eyes move to where your husband is already looking, flushed red and sweaty from all the dancing, your girls, preening and giggling around him.

You tilt your chin at him, a challenge in your gaze, before you slowly pull your lips away from your wine, stained red.

His throat bobs.

It will be a long, arduous game. Full of pitfalls and tightened webbing. One trip can kill you. But once the machinations are in order, once everything and everyone is in their proper places... oh, you cannot wait for the dance the dragons will make.

A flutter, a simpered footstep. Then a rustle of a dress as one bows.

"My lady," Dyanna greets behind you.

"Hm?"

"The spiders in the ice have met the pup in the snow."

"And?"

"The pup is not suspicious, in fact, they might go as far as to say that the pup is lonely. Though others largely understand her existence... no one likes a bastard."

You snort. "No, they don't, do they?"

"The wolf cares for the pup though, and is largely protective of his only sister."

"Hm. Complicated, but not impossible. Have Meera change the tone of my missive. A softer edge. Sweet but not overtly. Ensure the prerogative of politeness. Then have it sent to the Rookery. The proper channels."

You sigh, taking the edge of your braid and twisting through the ribbons your maid tangled between them. Tonight, you had elected Targaryen colours. A black dress akin to scales and a low, exposed back and dipping front, held together in red ribbons and silver chains. One that might be too on the nose, but the constant, feverish stares from your husband made it worth it.

"We have to ensure a good relationship with the Warden of the North, don't you think so?" You have not looked away from your husband since your maid came, and as he whispered something in Daenera's ear, nodding off to her grandmother with Aemma towed, he turned towards you, one stride after another.

"Precisely what I thought, milady."

"Go," you order her for the last time, giving her your cup, just before Jacaerys reaches you.

Game, set.

Worshipping you has always been something Jace excelled at. At the least, his cock was much larger than most, and without the preparation of his tongue and mouth, it burned. At most, he oft found himself holding your shaking thighs, your head and shoulders left on the bed as he feasted on you like a man starved, hungered for your nectar, the sounds you make, and the shaking of your body as you reached your peak on his tongue.

"J-Jace, please, I—" Your breath stutters, a hiccup escaping your mouth, but he is not letting up. On his knees as only a lordling can with his back straight, he is holding your thighs, your lower back, eating your cunny for the third time of the night.

As soon as he had reached you, he grasped your waist, whispering against your hair in a rumbled groan, "You are torturing me so, my wife. We leave. Now."

"Now?" you echoed, amused. "This is a feast in your honour."

"My honour is already hanging by a thread. The revelry will go on without us. I want to have my fill of you."

And fill he had. He didn't even wait to get you out of your dress before he had pushed your skirt upward, gone on his knees, and got his tongue inside of you.

Now, you are overwhelmed, overstimulated as you are hazy, gripping the wrecked sheets as your peak reached you once more. A strangled, breathy cry of his name falls between your lips as your back arched impossibly so, and instead of letting up, this seemed to fuel him harder, the muscle of his mouth working harder inside of your cunt, hands digging into your flesh to keep you steady.

It builds with a stimulation unending, and just as you're on the throes of your last high, it builds again, quick and fast this time, shuddering gasps of, "o-oh gods, g-gods, Jace!" is the last thing you are able to shout before your fourth peak breaks against the shudders of your last one, your wetness exploding, and you start crying before he lets up.

Your blubber becomes laughter, and he is soft as he lies you down, massaging your thighs as you twitched. He hovers above you, running gentle hands across your arms, kneading through skin, before he reaches your face. He's still in most of his clothes, his long white shirt and breeches, but his mouth is covered in your wetness before he wipes it, obscene in the prettiness of his face and messy locks from where you had tugged and grabbed.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, so close to your body, all too tangled in your soul, and can feel his hard cock upright and wanting against your belly, but he pays it no mind. Concern mars his features as he brushes down your hair.

"Are you alright, my love? Too much?"

You shake your head, brushing your hand down his chest. "N-no, I am well. I just never did that before."

He smiles, kissing your closed eyelids before he brings you close to his chest, cuddling you deep. "You deserve all the pleasure I can give you," he says against your hair. "I have been gone far too long. Consider it my apology."

You hum, eyes open. "Apology for what? You were doing your duty, nothing more, ñuha zaldrīzes, my dragon." You feel him stiffen as you keep your voice soft, caring. "I understand duty far better than you. It is what I love most about you."

You look up, taking his chin between your fingertips as you stared at those warm, brown eyes. "You, who carries your honour like a shield and your duty like a sword. I feel as if the gods had blessed me a husband far better than I should have had for I know I do not deserve you."

"H-how can you say that? You are—" He swallows. "— You are the most excellent woman. The mother of my children. You... You are the one I do not deserve."

Your head falls back against his chest, gripping his shirt. Only by your teeth had you stop yourself from screaming.

You curdle, you keep, you poise.

"My love?"

But you pay him no mind, pushing him on his back as you straddle him, your hands working quick to unlace his breeches until his cock slaps against his stomach, end red and swollen. A sharp hiss falls from his lips as your hand tugs on it once. Twice.

He calls your name, spits it really, eyes blown with lust as he holds your waist, unsure if he should lift you off him or grind you against his aching cock.

"I want you inside me," you whimper, plead, feeling his cock twitch at your words, your false, yearning gaze. He mistakes the burned tears of anger in your eyes as unbridled want. "I have gone so long without your warmth, your cock, swelling inside me, your seed nestling deep, taking root—"

"Yes," he gasps, fingers digging into your doughy sides, pulling you up, moving you around whilst you grabbed his length and directed inside your wet, hot cunt inch by inch, filling you so thickly you can feel him in your throat. It takes time, patience and grit, but you're wet enough and you're determined. Once he's fully inside of you through a choked moan of your own, his neck arches, head thrown back. "Fuck! Yes, y-yes, there you are, my g-good fucking girl."

You move slow at first, taking him, bracing one hand on his knee, almost testing the feel him of back in the familiar contours of your cunt. Veins pop between each groan and choke that shudders through him whilst praise, your name, the possessive titles— my love, my wife, my princess — is spit in between.

When the heat tightens in your belly, you shift positions, placing both palms on his chest, and riding him without abandon, bouncing up and down as you watch with a sharp eye as his release builds. His hips move on their own, fucking up in you as you meet his thrusts with equal vigour, and it's delicious. It's heated. You grind your swollen folds against his mon and your cries make him thrust up harder into you, calling your name, denting your doughy hips.

You don't stop, your pleasure at the back of your mind, wanting him to unravel, to break— a final cry of your name dissolving into a choked moan, spilling his seed deep inside, the continuous snap of his hips digging it deeper into your womb.

But your last peak is still tightening, so you press a quick kiss on his chest, a bite really, before you continue to chase your own high, a hiss slipping his lips but moving your hips with his iron-grip, stutters of, "d-do it, reach your high, f-fuck! fuck!"— Your head throws back, nails digging his skin as your cunt clenches his cock in a vice grip, forcing his hips to snap up once more, twice, until you fall, slumping against him.

When he kisses the top of your head, murmuring words you ignore, you close your eyes.

Your plan is in motion. The missive will be sent to the Lord Stark, in pursuit of an innocent friendship. The spiders you have placed on the Northern bastard are set, and a dragon flies in Dragonstone with your bond in its blood.

Your Jace is home. He will fall in love with you all over again. His wonderful daughters and darling princess, he will regret the events that have transpired in the cold. In his head, he will make promises to do better, to be better, that whatever happened is a blip. A mistake that will not happen again. but you know, he will trip. He will wander once more.

But you will make sure that the next time he does so, he will regret it for the rest of his days.

Because it is not you who will burn Winterfell to the ground.

It will be him.

Your plan moves, your web is perfect.

Now, the spider waits for the idiot fucking flies to feed on.

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draconic-desire · 1 month

Text

A Dance With the Dragon IV — Escape

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] Part IV — You are here]

After four hundred years, the chance for escape finally presents itself—what will you choose?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, brief mentions of NSFW thoughts and past events, feral dragon Neuvillette

Your opportunity for escape came on a gray and dismal day.

The past week had been particularly grueling for the Chief Justice—or so he had panted into your ear while he pinned you to the bed, skin slick with sweat and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

You’d initially took it as a thinly veiled excuse for the dragon to lash out, for him to lay claim to you once again, but you soon noticed his focus actually wavering. Just enough for it to slip his mind to tell your Melusine guards (or guides, as Neuvillette would insist) not to bring you to his office for your regular afternoon tea with him. Furina had insisted on his last-minute presence at the meeting between her and certain Snezhnayan diplomats, and his unwavering sense of responsibility to Fontaine prevented him from rejecting the order.

That was how you found yourself sitting alone in his office.

You were quite confused. Neuvillette never skipped tea with you. In fact, as the busiest man in Fontaine, he insisted on it. It was a new development, one he thought might bring the two of you closer and outside of a purely domestic setting.

You’d be grateful for the change of scenery if you didn’t end up bent over his desk half the time.

In the beginning you had fought him on it, but as time in his captivity stretched on you soon realized this was one of the only chances allotted to you beyond your shared abode, especially now that the Opera was off limits. You even got to chat with the Melusines who acted as your sweet, naive guards. They reminded you of Carole and your previous life, a bittersweet memory that you held onto like a fleeting dream.

Now, you couldn’t help but start to fidget in your seat. When one minute became two, and two became five, and five became ten, you couldn’t help the anxious tapping of your nails against his desk. Where was he? Had something happened to him? You knew the Chief Justice would never commit a crime, but the notion of him imprisoned forever in the Fortress or Meropide was one that brought you comfort during your unrequited relationship.

Particularly on nights he would remind you of whose sentence you were under, whose wife and mate you were.

Pushing both hands against the desk, you rose to your feet and stormed towards the door. You wouldn’t sit idly to stew in your own thoughts. You raised a fist, preparing to knock harshly to alert any Melusine or the Iudex himself whose inhuman perspectives misinterpreted this as some sort of sick joke—

Except the slightest force sent the door ajar, presenting you with an empty hallway.

It was unlocked.

You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate. It invaded your senses, your hearing, your feeling, until it drowned out all of your thoughts but one.

You could leave.

The absence of any other individual was unheard of. Logically, it didn’t make sense; there should have been a guard if Neuvillette expected to be late, or others working in the main office if they hadn’t been dismissed for break as usual (though you knew it was only to spare them of any ungentlemanly sounds that might be coming from his office after you entered).

It was then you realized: Neuvillette had made a mistake.

You didn’t spare a single glance back as you strode out the doors of the Palais Mermonia and onto the streets of Fontaine.

Navigating your way out of the Court was easier than expected. Although there was no mistaking who you were when Neuvillette dragged you out in public—whom else’s waist would he retain an iron grip on throughout an entire opera if not his loving partner—without him by your side, you appeared like any other resident.

Obtaining Mora for the ferry ride to Sumeru was also a breeze. You had no moral objections to pocketing a few coins from unsuspecting citizens along the docks. Why would you, when you had been serving a lifetime sentence of imprisonment anyway?

The ship wasn’t anything fancy and was mostly filled with traveling salesmen and local fishermen, but after centuries of being doted on and monitored constantly, you savored the feeling of being normal, of feigning the role of a traveling merchant. You truly never thought that pretending to be an average worker would feel so freeing.

Suddenly, the skin of your arm began to crawl, feeling like a thousand pinpricks were digging their claws under your skin. You hissed at the sharp pain, gasping at the brief flash of your draconic tattoo, and then…nothing. You could almost always feel it, but it seems that upon crossing a certain distance the leviathan decided to lie dormant. You thanked Barbados for your luck; in your certainty of escaping, you hadn’t even thought of the physical tie between you and Neuvillette.

As the boat pulled out of the dock, relief washed over you like the serenity after a storm. After months of the Iudex, the supposed upholder of Justice, violating every rule against you, you were finally free.

As you watched Fontaine’s massive cliffs fade into the waves, you briefly mourned your choice to leave your Hydro Vision behind; however, you reasoned that the risk in going back for it and wasting precious time was too great. Not to mention the fact that you were sure you’d never get away with slipping it out of Neuvillette’s grasp, and you certainly didn’t want to squander this chance by running back into his arms. Although you knew the rumors of what happened to bearers who lost their Visions, you were willing to take your chances if it meant securing your freedom.

A sudden splash against your cheek jerked you from your thoughts. Upon looking up, you found the previously azure sky to have darkened. Rain began steadily falling, soon fully soaking your frilly dress (another insistence of Neuvillette’s, that you always wear dresses for teatime…never again!). Thunder rolled across the waters, bringing a taste of pain, anger, and betrayal with it.

Ah, so he’s realized your absence. Good—let him rage. Let him experience the heartbreak of losing what you hold most dear.

Maybe that will serve as his atonement for his sins against you.

You noticed then that, like your draconic captor, you too were crying. Though not of sadness—no, yours were tears of joy.

~*~

Although you had originally planned to journey back to your homeland in the City of Wind—not that you had anyone left there to return to, it was more for your own comfort—you found Sumeru to be to your liking. It was Fontaine’s foil—hot, dry, intellectually driven yet full of untamed wilderness. Full of real, thriving flora and fauna that cold, inorganic meka could never match.

The presence of the Akademiya and Port Ormos even offered you a line to continue your photography and research. Due to the dark room Neuvillette had installed in the library, your skills with a camera hadn’t grown too rusty over the centuries. Now, you finally were able to photograph your true passions again—nature, the water, the animals around you. Their harmony and beauty together, their freedom.

It may seem as if you hadn’t gotten far, but with how vast the Nation of Wisdom was, you felt safe to start anew. For the first time in four hundred years, you felt at home.

Three months had passed since your escape, with no indication that the Iudex was on your trail. After enrolling in the Akademiya (which had required you to change your name, since posing as a four hundred year old would probably not go over well), you even found a group of fellow students that you worked and resided with in the city. You were still careful, of course—you never traveled alone, avoided looking flashy in public, and even altered your look by cutting your hair to suit the arid climate.

That is, until you weren’t.

Your advisor appointed you to join an exclusive research project on the wildlife transition along the Sumeru/Fontaine border. Having experience with Fontaine’s biology, you were the clear candidate. Your initial trepidation almost won out, but you finally conceded at the encouragement of your peers. You’d even be traveling with your advisor and two of your roommates, so you chalked your nerves up to not having set foot in the direction of Fontaine in months. After all, you’d been meaning to explore the desert and its ecology—you just needed to take the plunge and face your fears.

Water was a rarity in the desert, after all.

Which is why, as your party was ascending the final dunes of the Desert of Hadramaveth, you believed the tall, blue-adorned figure approaching was a mirage. A result of dehydration after days of travel in these harsh conditions, a trick of the mind—

“Of all the places you could have escaped to, was it necessary to choose such a dry and barren place as this?” The last part was mumbled under his breath, his tone taking on a low growl, “I cannot help but feel that you bringing me here is some form of an assassination attempt…”

At the sound of his voice, just as deep and commanding as you remembered, your entire being came to a standstill. You despised how you had been conditioned for that tone to send a pangs of trepidation to your core.

Yet despite the Chief Justice’s presence right before you, a part of your brain refused to process it. He was the Hydro dragon, for Archon’s sake. What in all of Teyvat could drag him to the farthest place from the sea?

You, apparently.

At your silence, Neuvillette’s lips tightened. His expression was near unreadable, but you recognized the tumultuous mix of anger and longing storming under that stoic facade.

The other members of your group appeared confused and uneasy. Apparently Neuvillette’s reputation preceded him, even outside of Fontaine, for the common mumbling you picked up on was speculations of his role here.

“Is that the Chief Justice of Fontaine?” a professor whispered to your advisor nervously. “What is he doing here? Surely none of us have offended the court…” Her eyes flickered to you briefly. Due to the nature of the research, it was common knowledge among the group that you were the one with connections to Fontaine.

Said Justice took a step towards you, spurring you to take a larger step back. You knew running wasn’t an option, but you reasoned that he couldn’t just take you clawing and spitting for all your colleagues to witness. No, he would have to convince them of your guilt before he could act.

Well, two could play at that game; you lived with Neuvillette long enough to learn some of his ticks and tells, especially when it came to you. This would be a game of negotiation, a chess match of wits. Neuvillette’s intellect was near unmatched, but if you played your cards right, you could win.

The tide that is Fontaine’s Iudex may one day sweep you under his control, but it is not this day.

“Madame (L/n), by the authority of the Court of Fontaine and the Nation of Justice, I hereby place you under my custody for immediate detainment.”

Or not.

A few of the researchers around you gasped, tittering about your supposed false identity. The professor from earlier backed away from you with a sneer. Looking around, you noted that even your friends were eyeing you warily like some stranger.

All logic left you at the dragon’s announcement. The terror gripping your heart was replaced by blinding, bubbling rage. You would not concede to the man who took everything from you and would take it all again, washing away the life you had built again like a house of sand.

You practically hissed in response. Now this was familiar. “Under what charges?”

Lifting his cane, Neuvillette summoned a levitating tome from which he read, “Multiple accounts of theft, use of a fraudulent identity, desertion in court to be tried for said charges, and emotional damages to the residents of Fontaine affected by your careless and selfish actions.”

You scoffed, your lip curling in a snarl. “And I suppose that last ‘charge’ applies specifically to you?”

The draconic man merely narrowed his piercing purple eyes. Unlike your own, Neuvillette’s demeanor did not falter. He wanted you to lash out, to validate the accusations against you in front of the Sumerian researchers. His objective was solely to retrieve you—quelling your anger would come later.

The day you left Fontaine, Neuvillette had felt a piece of his soul shatter.

He could feel the very moment you crossed the border, when the draconic bond between mates and lovers was severed. It was a guillotine to his head, a rope around his neck, a bullet to his temple. Pain, raw and agonizing, enveloped his very being. The dragon beneath his skin raged, begging Neuvillette to fly to you and sink his claws so deep you could never leave again. The all-consuming panic over your loss, over your safety now that you were outside of his sight, had threatened to rise up and smother him, to drown him and sweep the fractured pieces away until he was nothing.

It had rained for weeks straight, so much so that the citizens of Fontaine brought back the old adage—Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.

As much as he wanted, needed to find you, the Chief Justice could not simply abandon his post and his people. Going against his very nature, he quelled the dragon and settled on deploying Gardemeks to Sumeru and Liyue to search for you. It had been easy enough to program them with your photo and statement of your status as a fugitive. Surely you couldn’t have gotten any farther than the regions bordering Fontaine, and if so, the mekas would signal your location to him in no time.

So, after weeks on end of the Garde failing to locate you, Neuvillette’s anxiety swelled from a shower to a tempest, a storm of violent wind and flurrying emotion. He found himself in the library he had built you, clawed fingers clutching his face with labored breaths. Black danced across his vision.

Was he not enough for you? Had he not given you anything and everything you could desire? Had he not kept his mate safe?

Why did you abandon me, (Y/n)?

When he had come to, the room was in tatters, the carpet shredded with claw marks and the walls smoldering with blue energy.

Neuvillette decided then that he could not wait any longer.

Tracking you only fueled the dragon. It could sense you, the pull of your tattoo awakening with each step Neuvillette took to close the gap. It was one mate beckoning another, like the pull of the moon on the tide. Your light guided him straight into your path.

And when Neuvillette finally saw your figure, illuminated by the hottest desert sun, he had nearly fallen to his knees and wept in relief. You were so beautiful, yet the look of terror on your face ripped his soul apart all over again. Even now, even here, you wanted to reject him. Could you not see how far he would travel for you, how long his reach would extend just to keep you safe?

In that moment, the dragon roared, and Neuvillette listened.

After seemingly endless hours, days, and months to think about the reasons you left him, he realized that he must have been too lenient with you. He practically was the law in Fontaine, yet he had dismissed your transgressions time and time again, thinking your outbursts were simply a temporary response to your new life with him. Yes, the transition had been sudden and the charges against you quite ridiculous, but he truly believed you would fall for him as he did you.

He would tolerate your backlash no more. No longer would he spoil you with gifts, hoping, praying to every member of the Seven just for you to smile at him. Never again would he sigh in defeat when you spurned his touch, leaving him to fuck his hand to the mere idea of you initiating physical intimacy.

No, just like any other criminal in Fontaine, you would have to be imprisoned until you learned your place—in your case, by his side. And he would be lying if he said the idea of punishing you for your offenses, for leaving him, didn’t cause his cock to twitch in anticipation.

The dragon demanded to be satisfied, and it would have its fill.

“We have numerous reports of you stealing Mora from unsuspecting individuals, as well as the testimony from the ship’s captain that you claimed to be a merchant immigrating to Sumeru. Then, of course, comes the addition consequences for violating the authority of the court by leaving Fontaine. The latter makes you a fugitive.”

“That’s insane! I only had to commit those so-called ‘crimes’ because you—”

“Ah, so you plead guilty.”

You blanched. No, not this again. He was riling you up, making you fumble with your argument like a child, just like your initial confrontation with him in the Opera Epiclese. But that was how he viewed you, wasn’t it? His centuries of experience would always trump your own.

“You know that’s not what I meant—

The sound of your advisor clearing his throat momentarily saved you. “Sir, with all due respect, we do not know whomever this Miss (L/n) you are referring to. This young lady here is Miss (Fake name), and she is one of my finest students. I highly doubt she is the one to have committed these acts.”

Neuvillete’s eyes flashed dangerously towards the researcher. He loomed over your advisor, casting them in shadow. “Shall I arrest you as well for conspiring with a criminal?”

You never thought silence could be so deafening.

The Iudex released a huff. “I didn’t think so.” With a flick of his hand, your wrists became bound together with bands of pure hydro. Your protestations did nothing to deter him as he motioned forward, causing you to be forcibly dragged forwards by an invisible force. You were no stranger to this procedure; Neuvillette had used his powers on you more than once in bed. Now that he had his hydro around you, he held all the authority.

Without the ability to control your movements, you tumbled into Neuvillette’s broad chest. To the others it appeared as if he were securing your bindings, but you shivered as he buried his nose in your hair. Softly, in a voice only meant for you, he sighed, “Oh, how I dreamed of this moment, my darling (Y/n). A valiant effort, to be sure, though your pursuit was always in vain. There is nowhere in all of Teyvat I won’t find you.” His hand ran down the length of your arm, where you knew your draconic tattoo was once more glowing under your tunic. “You are marked as mine, my wife. My mate.”

You jerked your head away despite his scent invading your being. “I will never stop running from you, husband,” you growled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dissolving into the Primordial Sea is preferable to lifetime with you.”

To your surprise, a low chuckle escaped the Chief Justice’s lips. “I think you’ll soon find that I can be quite persuasive.” He stood to his full height, face reverting to his usually stoicism. “I shall be taking my leave with the prisoner, then. If any of you wish to object to this ruling, you may submit a false claim report to the Court, and I will attend to it personally.”

Glancing around at your peers, those you believed to be your friends and colleagues, you knew that none of them would fight for you. News of your detainment would be spread through the Akademiya, forever tarnishing your reputation. It was over, and Neuvillette had emerged victorious once again.

The Iudex motioned you forward with a tip of his cane and an ominous spark in his eyes. “Come, my beloved. Let us return home.”

#yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #neuvillette #yandere genshin impact #yandere #dragon neuvillette #escape #Yandere escape #run away #fontaine #sumeru #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere imagines

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theminecraftbee · 3 months

Text

> check social links

(Which Social Link should I check on...?)

0 FOOL School Rescue Committee Should this really be an official school club? The group of Persona-users that I'm in now, whether I like it or not. At least I'm helping people by doing all this weird magic nonsense...

I MAGICIAN Scar A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. He's dragged me into his scam crystal-selling operation, which is actually weirdly fun.

II PRIESTESS Beef Pretty large and muscular for a priestess, but sure, I'll bite. A volunteer EMT who is trying to decide whether to follow his family's wishes for university.

III EMPRESS Gem A fellow Persona-user in my year. She wants me to help her study for entrance exams, apparently. Not sure why she's asking me, I missed an entire semester? But it's good enough study for me as well.

IV EMPEROR Impulse A fellow Persona-user in my year. He has a single-minded devotion to overworking himself, despite the fact he seems to be trying to prove it's fine for some reason.

V HIEROPHANT Xisuma An older man who hangs out in the local tea shop. Keeps trying to parent me for some reason, although it seems like his relationship with his actual family's a bit less good, so maybe that's why.

VI LOVERS Etho My lab partner. The whole school's obsessed with him for some reason. My only solace is that he seems to be just as disconcerted by that fact as I am.

VII CHARIOT Skizzleman A fellow Persona-user in my year, and my first friend in this town. I'm helping him find a part-time job. He's sort of ridiculously cheerful, but I know he understands me better than most people.

VIII JUSTICE Grian A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. Keeps dragging me into his pranks, although for such a gregarious guy, he's weirdly isolated.

IX HERMIT Joe Hills One of my teachers, and the head of the School Rescue Committee. He's, frankly, the most bizarre guy I know, and I don't know what to make of any of the "wisdom" he tries to impart on us.

X FORTUNE Tango Apparently, he's a bit of a prodigy in the robotics club, but he first came to me to confess he's considering quitting. I have no idea why this is my problem, but Impulse frowned at me about it, so here I am.

XI STRENGTH False A local martial artist who's been decorated with a number of titles. I just wanted her to teach me how to fight better, but apparently, she's starting to doubt her own fighting ability as well.

XII HANGED MAN Jimmy Igor's assistant in the Velvet Room. He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also my idiot. Mostly wants to request I escort him to places in the human world, although he wants specific fusions sometimes too.

XIII DEATH Cleo A "florist" in town who can source us weapons and fence goods from Altered Space. I'm pretty sure she's actually Yakuza, or at least criminal. She and Joe know each other, although strangely, she doesn't seem to remember from where.

XIV TEMPERANCE Iskall and Stress Two priests at the local shrine. I work for them occasionally to help them with odd jobs around town. They share some common past they don't like to talk about.

XV DEVIL Ren The student council president. He's bizarrely mad with power on a good day, which is weird, because he's also bizarrely kickable on a good day. Keeps on trying to rope me into the Student Council.

XVI TOWER Doc An inventor trying to invent a safe new clean energy source. According to rumors, his last try exploded, killing his lab partner, which constantly makes me question why I'm here.

XVII STAR Zedaph Proprietor of the famous local "Mystery Stir Fry Extravaganza". Frankly, his creations terrify me more than Doc's do. I have no idea why this is Impulse's favorite restaurant.

XVIII MOON Mumbo A fellow Persona-user in the year below me. Apparently, he still gets bullied a lot, but he has a scheme to, and I quote, 'learn to be something scary, like a horse.' Good luck with that, mate.

XIX SUN Pearl An artist that I've always admired. Recently, she was in a terrible car accident, and her hands now constantly shake because of it. I still think she can draw organic shapes better than me, though.

XX JUDGEMENT Soul Reappearance Committee Judgement. Hah. I guess you'd call this Judgement Day, sure.

XXI THE WORLD ... It's me.

#smallishsona au #a bee fic #WOO I HAVE THE FINAL LIST OF EVERYONE!#some of joel's descriptions here actually give away the social link plotline #but a FEW of them actually do not.#but WOO HERE ARE THE SOCIAL LINKS! :D

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kaidatheghostdragon · 5 months

Text

Starefire is liminal

Correct me if im wrong, but she got her starbolts from unethical alien experimentation, right? What if the experiment was exploring ectoplasm and liminality? Ergo, starfire's starbolts are actually ectorays.

There are so many possibilities to explore. Does she know she's liminal or the nature of her starbolts? Do the GIW clock her as a ghost instead of an alien? Do they hunt her down or monitor from a distance because she's too high profile?

Does the justice league learn about the giw through their interactions with starfire, and only discover phantom as a side effect? Here we can run the full gamut of possibilities, from phantom just starting out, or phantom successfully protecting an entire off-the-radar city (not something ive seen very often), to phantom post-capture, or bad reveal and in hiding.

Also, when i first thought of this idea, i immediately considered the similarities between starfire and jazz, especially if jazz is a fire core liminal with flight and ectoblasts. I was kind of considering a plot where a video of the giw hunting jazz is released on the web, but the video goes viral with the title of "fashion police attack starfire" or something. Jazz deliberately played up the similarities she has to starfire (makeup, costume, and everything) and tucker deliberately released the video in a way that would get past the censors and catch the justice league's attention. It was a desperate ploy that the entirety of team phantom was in on to get help when the giw escalated to hurting civilians, or captured phantom, or some other emergency.

Then, as the league investigate the starfire impersonator, they discover all the monitoring the giw have done on the real starfire (that team phantom might or might not know about) to confirm that she's liminal, and the plans theyre devoloping to quietly capture her.

It would be equal parts angsty and hilarious if the Justice League destroyed the GIW without ever identifying the impersonator or discovering amity park and phantom. Maybe batman only discovered them months later while trying to close up loose ends? Idk, its an idea. (I kinda wanna avoid the whole "summon the ghost king" subplot, if for no other reason than the fact that its been overdone?)

OTOH, the league could be doing a very thorough internal investigation to figure out how many of their members are "ecto-contaminated" according to the giw's tech, and the magic users would have to step in and explain things if batman tries to take the "contamination" at face value and try to purge it. Once they explain the concept of liminality and how they can sense it from most members, batman is simultaneously unsurprised that most of the league is "death-touched" and nearly having an aneurysm because they never thought to explain this sooner.

To add a bit of crack at the end, after the justice league has thoroughly destroyed the giw and figured out all their own existential crises (and still havent discovered who the imposter was), THAT'S when "perpetual pot-stirrer" Phantom shows up on the watchtower all like, "yes, you have passed all of my tests and reacted appropriately to the information of liminality. I will now deign you with my presence and give you many blessings of the ghost king. You are also now allowed to visit amity park. Treat these privileges with wisdom and temperance." (As if he's NOT a superpowered teen desperately looking for like-minded peers and unconditional acceptance.)

#dpxdc #liminal starfire #liminal justice league

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chanelles-world · 5 months

Note

I need enemies to lovers where he protects reader at a party when some guy tries to touch her after spiking her drink

FIGHT NIGHT • c sturniolo x reader

a/n: reader x chris ! this is a request and i truly hope i did it justice. i really loved this idea so it was fun to write. the way i’ll always love the enemies to lovers trope.

i didn’t add smut to this one bc it didn’t specify, but ive already got it written down if we want a part two?????

ps: this is long once again but trust it’s good

••••

the lights and music were glaring as you were standing against the wall in the back at some random college party when your enemy walked over. yes that’s right chris. you and chris hated each other and always seemed to get underneath each other’s skin. you can’t deny that there was tension between you two but you still despised him with no doubt. you two have known each other since the second grade. things were fine up until the 8th grade in middle school. you two were inseparable until everything just switched. now it’s like every little thing he did irritates the living hell out of you and vice versa.

“well look who it is..” chris sneers as a smirk lands on his face. he was holding a red plastic cup full of beer.

“what the fuck do you want?” you question, annoyed at the fact that he crawled his way into your presence.

“nothing much” chris says taking a drink of his beer. you roll your eyes in disgust. “then why the fuck did you come over here?” you ask growing impatient.

“to get you riled up” he says smirking “and it seems like it’s working” he chuckles.

“just go away you dick, i was fine before your annoying ass walked over here.” you say moving my eyes in the other direction.

“whatever, you just can’t deny that you want me real bad.” chris speaks before pushing past me. you roll your eyes and walk over to the bar that was situated in a corner.

you was about to pay for my non alcoholic drink when this dude showed up out of nowhere. you slyly looked him up and down out of the corner of your eye. honestly he wasn’t that bad looking.

“what’s up pretty” the mysterious dude says, turning your way to look at you with a smile. you look over at him with a slight blush on your face.

“hey..” you say getting shy. why the fuck was i getting shy? i barely know this guy and i’m blushing you thought to yourself

“here’s your non alcoholic drink!” the bartender says looking at you. “thank you.” you say about to pull out your wallet but the mysterious guy beats you too it. “here, keep the change” he says before taking a sip of his drink.

you give the guy a slight smile before slowly walking off. you walk to a table and take a seat. the guy follows you and sits across from you.

“what’s a pretty girl like you chillin by yourself? shouldn’t you be dancing or some shit?” the guy asks you. you take a drink before answering.

“i’m not feeling it and there’s no one to dance with fr.” you say shrugging your shoulders. you drink the rest of your drink before placing your cup down.

“hm i feel you.. here let me get you another drink then we can dance?” the guy questions. you nod your head agreeing with a smile .

a few minutes later the guy comes back. you take the drink and take a sip. something in the back of your mind told you it tasted weird but you weren’t thinking to the point it didn’t matter. you finish the drink in one sitting as you notice the guy staring at you.

“ready?” the guy says smirking. i stand up and take his hand in mine. “i’m so ready” you purr drunk at this point.

you both head into the crowd of teenagers who were dancing and joined them. your back was against his chest grinding him as his hands roamed your body.

“oh god you’re so hot.” the guy whispers in your ear. your brain was all fuzzy to the point you couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. you continue to grind your ass up against his crotch as the music kept playing. the guy decided to bring his hand up to your tits and start massaging them. after massaging your tits he makes his way down to your low rise skirt. you feel what he’s doing and start to feel uncomfortable. the guys fingers rise inside your skirt as you start to squirm trying to get away.

“ no s-stop” you whisper try telling the guy. you didn’t realize the whole time that someone in particular was watching you from the side. he was watching the whole damn thing and was getting pissed off.

the guy who you were dancing with wouldn’t listen to your no so you try again. “ugh stop it please!” you plead trying to grasp out of his hand but he holds onto you tighter. “no you’re mine for tonight baby..” he whispers in your ear, as he then begins to nibble on them. his fingers continue to ride up your thigh until he touches your thong. you feel like you were on the verge of crying as there was tears in your eyes. the music was blasting loud, the lights were off and there was a ton of people. this guy would just not listen to your pleads.

before his fingers could glide up your pussy you feel someone jump the guy who was touching you. the guy knocks down to the ground as you gasp and slightly jump away.

“you fucking bastard!” the voice sounded familiar. you turn around to see chris punching the guy in his face. the music stopped as people stopped dancing to watch the incident.

“oh my gosh! chris stop!” you yell frantically going over to try and get chris off the dude. you cared that chris came to help and you couldn’t be more grateful but fighting was not the case. chris finally pulled away and shoved him one more time to the ground. his bottom lip had a cut because the guy punched back but other than that he was fine. better than the other guy.

“don’t fucking touch her! i swear to god if you even try laying a hand on her again , you’ll regret ever living!” chris yells angrily.

you place your hand on chris’s back and his arm and pull him away before he pounces on the guy again. it takes a minute for chris to move along with you but he finally moves.

you take him to the back as the party carries on and you both sit down at a table. chris sits across from you, as you carry on to look at him. the tension was high. chris still seemed off

“damm chris, who knew you had it in you..” you say trying to lighten the mood. but the fact that you almost got raped was still lingering over your mind. you were still feeling a little light headed from the drinking.

“well someone had to do something.. that bastard was practically going to rape you.” chris spits out. you look away from his eyes as they clouded with darkness and not his usually bright blue orbs. you sigh as you sadly agree.

“i swear i tried telling him to stop and to get away from me.. but he wouldn’t budge and i-i’m pretty sure he spiked my drink? i don’t know..” you saying looking around as tears clouded your eyes.

“hey, it’s alright.. that dude was a bastard & doesn’t understand what consent n no means.” chris exclaims bitterly

you look down at the table, fighting to get rid of your tears that were threatening to fall. chris brings his hand over the table to caress yours. this was something??? you thought. you lift up your head to see chris staring at you.

“hey do we want to get outta here?” chris questions quietly. you don’t need to be asked twice as you nod your head.

chris grabs your hand as he guides both of you out the door to his car.

—

you and chris made it to your house. both of your parents were still gone so you invite chris inside. you both walk into the living room and take a seat on the couch getting comfortable.

you decided to ask a question that you didn’t expect an answer to. you didn’t know if this would change things for the worse or the better but you decided to ask anyways.

“chris.. can i ask you something.” you ask looking him in the eyes. his arms were spread out against the top part of the couch and his legs were spread out. he looks in your direction.

“um yeah shoot..” chris responds. you nibble on the bottom of your lip. “i just want to know.. what happened to us?” you take a few seconds before talking again. “we were practically inseparable but then high school came along and we just…. i don’t know..” you finish, sighing.

chris doesn’t answer for a few minutes. you begin to think if the question messed things up.

“i don’t know.. life happen i guess.” chris says. you didn’t realize but chris was lying thru his teeth.

you look away disappointed. you don’t know what you expected from him.

“oh um yeah i guess..” you say, sighing. “you know i just have a feeling it’s more than that though..” you say not letting go. out of the corner of your eye it looks like chris gulped nervously. you wonder why.

a/n: tehe i decided to do a cliff hanger, part two???

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #reader x character #party #spiked #drinks #chris sturniolo smut #chris smut

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gerryrigged · 10 months

Note

wait wdym dc didn't stick with Red Robin for Tim [and the de-aging thing?] what are they calling him if not RR?

He's been Robin again since 2019 😬 it's a bit more complicated but that's the gist of it.

Okay so Tim became Red Robin in the 2009-2011 series of the same name, back in the post-Crisis timeline. He was supposedly 17 at the time, by official records, and I believe he was still supposed to be 17 when the universe was rebooted with Flashpoint in 2011? (Although this doesn't really make any sense with respect to jamming the huge number of events that happened while he was Robin into like four years, if he was supposed to have become Robin at 13; he should probably at least be 18 if not 19-20).

The Flashpoint reboot took us into the New 52 (much beloathed), where nearly everyone was de-aged to some extent to keep Bruce Wayne and his generation from getting ~too old~, and also Tim Drake was mangled into a completely different character who had never been "Robin"; he'd been "Red Robin" right from the start of his vigilante career. He was de-aged to 16 for the New 52 Teen Titans series.

Teen Titans (2011) #0; as you can see, this version of Red Robin kept a version of the bandoliers and gave Tim a fancy new functional wing cape that he could fly around with.

Next, Rebirth in 2016 was a partial reboot that brought back some aspects of the post-Crisis timeline; tbh I'm not an expert on this period. What I do know is that Tim mainly appears in James Tynion IV's run of Detective Comics that ran from 2016 to 2018. During this period Tim was still called Red Robin, but he'd basically reverted to a Robin costume, with only the silly doubled "RR" symbol identifying him as not ~actually~ Robin winkwink nudgenudge, and as I understand it he was mostly back to functioning as Bruce's partner.

Tynion's run ends in Detective Comics #981 with Tim telling Bruce that he's going off to Ivy University. (He's totally lying, as Tim Drake does; Alfred notices that his tracker is going off in the opposite direction of the university, but Bruce is like "I trust him" and turns the tracker off. Yay, I guess?)

Anyway the important bit is this revealing that Tim is 'going-off-to-college' age. Which could still reasonably be anywhere from 17-19, and DC being DC, they ~refuse to confirm~

Tim as Red Robin on the cover of Detective Comics #934 (2016); as you can see, he's pretty much Robin again lol

Detective Comics #968 (2018); another shot of his "basically Robin" Red Robin costume

In 2019 we got the actual return of Tim as Robin (no "Red") in Brian Michael Bendis's Young Justice run, re-uniting the Core Four from YJ 1998.

Young Justice (2019) #1

As you can see, he no longer has the doubled 'RR', and he confirms that he's Robin - "Well, one of them!" I think he's supposed to be filling in as the Gotham Robin while Damian is running around the world having adventures and presumably getting into trouble, as Robins do? idk.

Tim also chases down his erased post-Crisis past at the beginning of this arc, having Zatanna magically restore (most of) his memories of the previous timeline, and, crucially, his forgotten best friend Kon, kickstarting some plot.

Tim, and all of the Young Justice crew, are notably young-looking for almost the entirety of this run. It varies based on the artist, but uh, yeah for the most part they are really damn baby-faced. This is a trend that continues with Tim and his generation of friends from this point onward, so fans have basically thrown up their hands like "is he 17 forever???? is he Edward Cullen from Twilight???? is he aging backward????"

We Just Don't Know

In any case, Bendis makes DC's next attempt to give Tim his own identity in short order, giving us the hilarious, ill-fated, and rightfully short-lived "Drake" identity.

Young Justice (2019) #10

He's back to being Robin by issue #18, hilariously switching costumes from one page to the next, although some time has apparently passed during the scene transition.

Young Justice (2019) #18; Jinny: "Is Drake back to being Robin?" Kon: "I think Batman and Spoiler made him go back to Robin. Don't bring it up. And say thank you because we didn't have to have the Drake intervention we were planning."

And as of the current date (July 13, 2023), Tim is still in the Robin identity, sharing it with Damian ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ God knows how old he's supposed to be right now. I certainly don't.

Batman (2016) #136; the most recent issue out to date, with Tim suiting up as Robin while filling Bruce in after diving into a bunch of parallel dimensions to bring Bruce home.

As you can see, it's a Mess. The Tim Drake's Vigilante Identity question is of course a hotbed of wank and infighting, as people are torn between (a) wanting him to continue as Robin and (b) wanting him to move on and "grow up" into his own identity again (and, importantly, leave Damian as the sole Robin again, lol).

It feels like most people are for option (b), but then nobody can agree on what his next identity and costume should be. Red Robin again?? Some other bird-based identity that doesn't share a name with a major restaurant chain?? Something else entirely??

God only knows what DC is going to come up with, especially after the Drake fiasco.

And there you have it, Anon! Hope that was helpful.

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jesterwriting · 6 months

Text

when you have a little sister who you’re raising headcanons

pairing: crocodile x reader & mihawk x reader (separate)

contents: reader has a little sister, mature!reader, though it's vague as to how old they are, mentions of past child neglect, slight language

word count: 2k words

note: this is my first time writing for mihawk i hope i was able to do him justice. ive had this idea for a while, it's one of my absolute fav tropes ever.

playlist: slipping through my fingers by abba

Life was hard when you had a younger sister. It was through no fault of your own, and it certainly wasn’t hers either. The blame rested on neglectful parents who left you both on the wayside. You were much older than her, the first of your parents many mistakes. By the time your sister was born, you were well out of the house and stable enough to get legal custody of her. Your parents were more than happy to sign over their parental rights, neither wanting to be weighed down by another child so late in life — not that they paid much attention to you in the first place. For all intents and purposes, you considered your sister the closest thing to a daughter you could get.

She was yours, and you were hers. It was as simple as that.

While you hated your parents, the same resentment that fogged your logical mind was never present when it came to your sister. She was so young; sweet and kind with a heart of gold. There was no reason for you to blame her for the circumstances of her birth. Besides, you loved her far too much to even bother. You remembered her first toddling steps, her first words — you cried laughing when a loud exclamation of ‘FUCK!’ echoed from her mouth. How much she hated the taste of carrots but would never grow tired of them if they were dipped in ranch. You remembered how lonely you were on her first day of Kindergarten, and how proud of her you were when she came home, touting stories of all the new friends she made.

Every year that passed, she grew more and more into the wonderful person you knew she would be. You couldn’t fathom how your parents weren’t bothered enough to be in your life. Raising your sister was the most fulfilling thing you had ever experienced. Everyday was a gift that she granted you in broad smiles and pudgy hands.

Even then, you couldn’t help but mourn the countless experiences you missed out on. Your childhood was not one you looked back fondly on, with nights alone and afraid, sobbing for a mother who would never come. Those empty days when you would stare at the happy families around you, wondering what was so wrong with you that made it so your parents didn’t love you the way others did. The young adulthood that was supposed to set you free was unceremoniously interrupted by a sweet little girl who looked at you with such innocent eyes, you knew you couldn’t let her carry the same scars you did.

Your sister didn’t know what you gave up to raise her, and a part of you hoped she never did. God forbid she ever thought she ruined your life. You would die before you allowed her to carry that burden.

Dating was hard, but thankfully, not impossible. First and foremost, your sister’s opinion on any prospective partner mattered even more than your own. Despite her age, she had a knack for sussing out people’s true intentions in a single glance. You always went into dating expecting the long term. If you were going to invite someone into your sister’s life, it’d be someone who would give her the stability and kindness that she deserved.

It was hard to find someone who was willing to deal with your particular situation. Every first date, the first thing that left your mouth was that you had a child in your life and the expectations that came with that. Many left after this, though you refused to give up. You deserved companionship, there had to be someone out there for you. Finally, you met someone who didn’t balk at the prospect of your sister, and after several months of dating, you decided it was time to introduce the two most important people in your life to each other.

Sir Crocodile

It was winter when you met him. Crocodile was intimidating, so much so, you found yourself nearly shaking in your boots when you first saw him. It was your first, and decidedly your last, blind date. To say you were surprised when you saw the former warlord sitting at your designated table, waiting for you, of all people, would be an understatement. Crocodile was polite, even cordial to you, pulling out your chair for you and allowing you to indulge for the first time in a very long time. Money was tight these days, though you kept that little tidbit of information to yourself. When you questioned why Crocodile was on a blind date of all things, his expression shifted to one of annoyance, your only reply being a low grumble under his breath. You worried you ruined the date with your silly question, only to be pleasantly surprised when he invited you to meet with him again. And again after that. And again after that. Each date topped the last in terms of extravagance. It wasn’t until on a quiet night, sharing each other’s company, that he confessed he liked you more than he should allow himself. With his thumb against your lips, he swore to never let you go. After that declaration, you decided to put Crocodile to the ultimate test. Meeting your sister.

You invited him to spend Christmas with you. Even if the first introduction didn’t go well, Crocodile was too smitten to allow you to leave him that easily. A silly little girl’s opinion of him would not be his downfall. If he failed once, he would try again and again until he got it right. Crocodile fully intended to woo that little girl with toys and gifts, approaching your humble apartment looking like an evil version of Santa Claus. Considering the expensive items he showered you in, you couldn’t say you were surprised at this turn of events, though you couldn’t help but fondly roll your eyes as you approached the door. For once, Crocodile wasn’t accompanied by the scent of cigars, having snuffed his out on the ride over. You told him, under no circumstances, would you have him smoking around your girl. To be honest, Crocodile did not expect this whole charade to end well. He wasn’t good with kids, and really, he didn’t like them all that much anyway. For you, however, he would try.

Crocodile’s insistence on bringing gifts worked in his favor. The second your sister saw him enter the apartment, presents in his arms, she started to vibrate with excitement. “What are those?” She asked, too polite to automatically assume they were for her, even if she was silently hoping that was the case. When Crocodile set the bags down and invited her to help herself with a wave of his arm and a smile that looked more like a grimace, she squealed, diving into the pile with vigor. Your sister was a little ray of sunshine, with the uncanny ability to worm her way into even the coldest of hearts. She spent most of the day hovering around Crocodile, not the slightest bit intimidated by his stature or his harsh expression. Even his former warlord status had no effect on her, considering she didn’t even know what that meant in the grand scheme of things. You smiled as you watched the larger man allow your sister to use him like a human jungle gym. Though he looked displeased, he couldn’t hide that glimmer of fondness in his eyes. Not from you, at least.

Dracule Mihawk

You met Mihawk in the spring. It was a chance encounter at a local winery. For once, you wanted to take some time for yourself and do a little wine tasting, not expecting to meet the most intense pair of golden eyes you had ever seen in your life. You found yourself frozen in place for a moment before he turned back to his wine, casually swirling the glass it was in. Feeling out of your depth, you hesitantly sat next to him and tried to enjoy yourself despite those eyes boring a hole into the side of your head. With a grin that was more than a bit forced, you said your greetings, and much to your surprise, the man struck up conversation. He introduced himself, and your soul nearly left your body when you realized you were interrupting a warlord of the sea’s wine tasting, though you managed to keep your head enough for your own introduction. Mihawk’s company was pleasant. He was quiet, choosing to listen more than speak himself. Whenever he did grace you with his voice, his knowledge of wine was without comparison. Very quickly, you found yourself smitten with his intelligence, your previous nerves being replaced with something a bit more reminiscent of your school years. Before you could work up the courage to ask if you could see him again, Mihawk beat you to the punch. As if he was asking the weather, Mihawk asked for your contact information. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you explained the situation with your sister, worried that whatever connection with this mysterious man would dissipate in an instant. Mihawk merely blinked at you. “If that’s all. I have more than enough experience in dealing with the young.”

The months passed slowly, and as summer came to a close, Mihawk told you it was time for him to head home. If you were so inclined, he would be honored if you and your sister cared to join him. You snickered, admitting you wouldn’t be going anywhere until he passed your final test: meeting your little sister. Mihawk accepted graciously — you noticed that competitive glint in his eye, as he was about to treat introducing himself to your sister as seriously as he treated swordplay. Unlike Crocodile, Mihawk did not sully the special occasion with gifts. He wanted your sister to like him for him, buying her affection felt more akin to cheating than anything else. While Mihawk had little experience with children, he couldn’t imagine it being any different than living with Perona and Zoro for two years, so he was going into the situation with a certain amount of confidence.

Your sister was similar to you. Just like with your first meeting, your sister did most of the talking. First, asking why his eyes were that color, then to tell him all about her friends at school, and finally, how he seemed ‘pretty cool’ but he wasn’t as cool as her favorite teacher. Mihawk took all of this in stride, nodding along to her rambling, even going so far as to offer her a small smile when she showed off her art project she was going to show off for show and tell the following day. Your sister had a knack for art, and you loved her creative mind. The whole time she talked to Mihawk, you couldn’t help the fond expression that crept up on your face, nor could you control the full force of your blush when you realized Mihawk was studying you. He liked that look on you. The love you held for your sister was commendable and he respected your dedication to her. In the end, as much as he would love to have the two of you in his home, Mihawk decided that it would be best for the two of you to remain on your island. Your sister seemed very comfortable with her classmates, and there was little he could offer her in terms of companionship at his dreary castle in the middle of nowhere. You agreed, but before you could mourn the loss of yet another relationship, Mihawk made it known that he would visit the two of you as often as he could. (Spoiler: It was very often) During your sister’s summer vacation, the two of you spent those three months in Mihawk’s home, as happy as can be.

#one piece x reader #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x you #dracule mihawk x reader #crocodile x you #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x you #.jesterwrites

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collinrobinsonsglasses · 4 months

Note

hello!! im crumbling after learning that ofmd isnt being renewed and ive been dying for new frenchie x reader fics for months. I will take literally anything to heal my broken heart🙏

Frenchie x Reader (GN)

Masterlist

This is my first time writing a story centered around Frenchie, so I hope I did this sweet goof justice.

Summary: Frenchie comes up with a plan to get you out of work, and it ends with your first kiss.

Playing Hooky

You had joined Stede Bonnet’s crew on The Revenge around the same time as everyone else, just before Blackbeard’s takeover. Captain Bonnet’s easygoing approach to piracy appealed to you, but the atmosphere drastically shifted when Izzy Hands took over as first mate. You preferred first mate Button’s quirky leadership on deck over Izzy’s constant yelling. As the crew stirred awake, preparing for the day, you sluggishly found your way to the galley, easing into your normal seat across from Frenchie.

Frenchie greeted you with his usual broad, goofy grin and a wave, all the while engaged in a lively debate with Wee John. Frenchie was adamantly claiming that his friend had once encountered a siren, while Wee John countered that sirens weren’t real. Lately, spending time with Frenchie became the primary reason for you to leave your hammock and get to work each morning. Over the past few weeks sailing for Bonnet, you had developed quite a crush on him. It was hard not to, given his contagious energy, warm brown eyes, sweet nature, and lovely singing voice. He was undeniably handsome and always fun to be around.

While engrossed in Frenchie’s animated discussion about the dangers and allure of Sirens with Wee John, you failed to notice Izzy Hand’s entrance into the galley. He swiftly began assigning tasks to the crew, designating you for lookout duty before departing as quickly as he came. Today, Frenchie was assigned to kitchen duty, and the thought of spending the day so far apart from him was disheartening. As Izzy left, you slouched over, letting out a sigh as your head rested on the table. Being the lookout had become a repetitive and utterly boring role for you this week. You found it both tedious and isolating. Izzy insisted you ascend to the foremast top to scan the horizon for other ships, but in reality, it often meant hours of staring into emptiness.

“Well, that’s no good.” Frenchie sighed, prompting you to glance up. “This makes it the fourth time this week you’ve been on lookout.”

“It is what it is,” you grumbled in response. A part of you was surprised that Frenchie had been keeping tabs on your ship duties, but you shrugged it off.

“I say, lookout duty is for the birds.” Frenchie replied with a mischievous grin. “So you should play hooky with me instead.”

Frenchie’s tempting proposal lingered in the air. You considered the ease with which he could slip away during kitchen duty, but a nagging feeling warned you that Izzy would notice your absence right away.

“Izzy would catch me if I’m not at my post, Frenchie,” you chuckled. “How would that even work?”

“I’m thrilled you asked,” Frenchie replied with a confident air. “Fortunately for you, I’m a master at the art of espionage.”

“Good feckin’ luck with that, you two,” Wee John replied, abandoning the table and wanting no part in Frenchie’s antics for the day.

“Alright,” you replied, returning Frenchie’s eager smile. “I’m in.”

As Frenchie outlined his plan to free you from lookout duty, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the odds of getting caught were almost certain. Yet, the idea of spending extra time with him today made it seem worth it. Following his instructions, you retrieved an extra set of your clothes and a hat from your belongings.

On your way back to the galley, carrying your extra attire, you unexpectedly crossed paths with Roach. He nonchalantly twirled his meat cleaver while making his way to the kitchen. Engaging in casual conversation, Roach abruptly halted as he observed Frenchie lugging two large bags of flour and a cantaloupe from the nearby storage closet.

“Now, wait one second,” Roach sang in a threatening tone, continuing to swing the meat cleaver in his hands. “What’s happening here?”

You observed Frenchie’s face shift into panic as he held the bags of flour. “Oh, well, that’s a great question.” Frenchie stammered. “The captain, you know him, wanted some extra cushions for his cabin. So, I thought, why not these bags of flour?”

“And the melon?” Roach prodded Frenchie, not sounding convinced.

“The melon?” Frenchie questioned, momentarily forgetting it was still in his arms. “Oh, you know. He wanted a melon to eat while he sat on the cushion?” Frenchie replied unconvincingly.

“We’re making a dummy that looks like me, so I can get out of lookout duty today,” you quickly interrupted Frenchie, sensing Roach wasn’t buying his story.

“Oh nice. Why didn’t you say so?” Roach replied jovially, moving into the kitchen and sticking his knife into the wood of the counter. “Just bring that stuff back once you’re done.”

“Yes sir.” you replied with a grin, before you and Frenchie headed off to his and Wee John’s room to craft your makeshift lookout dummy.

You stuffed your spare clothes with the sacks of flour, carefully arranging the cantaloupe on top and capping it off with your hat. Stepping back, both of you surveyed your creation, with Frenchie biting his finger and tilting his head as if appreciating a work of art.

“Is this what I look like?” you chuckled, examining the scarecrow-like figure before you.

“Oh, lord no. A dummy could never capture your essence,” Frenchie replied with a bashful grin, causing your heart to flutter for a moment.

“How the fuck are we going to hoist this up to the foremast without anyone seeing?” you suddenly questioned, once again doubting the feasibility of Frenchie’s plan.

“Piece of cake,” Frenchie replied confidently. “I’ll whip up a distraction, get everyone’s attention, and give you time to sneak the dummy into place.”

Crouched on the stairs leading up to the main deck, you and Frenchie had managed to haul the bags of flour, masquerading as you, up the stairs. Frenchie swiftly ascended to the deck, creating a commotion to divert everyone’s attention. From your vantage point, you observed him shouting to the crew and Izzy Hands about something in the water at the ship’s rear. Racing across the quarterdeck, Frenchie reached the poop deck, peering over the edge. Suddenly, the ship lurched, caught in an unexpected wind, causing Frenchie to lose his balance and, with a large splash, disappear overboard.

Your mouth fell open in astonishment, unsure if this was part of Frenchie’s planned distraction or an accidental plunge. Regardless, the unexpected loss of Frenchie at sea triggered chaos on the deck. Most of the crew rushed to the ship’s rear, where Frenchie was standing moments before. Seizing the opportunity, you sprinted to the foremast and began scaling it with the dummy slung over your shoulder and the cantaloupe tucked under your arm. Wee John, seemingly unfazed by Frenchie’s abrupt departure overboard, chuckled at the spectacle of you ascending the rigging above him. Amused, he made no effort to draw attention to your climb.

Reaching the platform, you arranged your doppleganger, having it lean against the mast’s railing. Securing the dummy in place with a length of rope around the wooden beam, you hastily tucked the melon into the neck opening of your clothes and placed your hat on top. There was no time to check how realistic it looked from below deck, instead you hurriedly retreated to the galley, your agreed-upon meeting spot, as the crew worked to fish Frenchie from the sea.

A short while later, Frenchie found you in the galley. He was wearing a knitted sweater, which you assumed Wee John had made for him at some point, along with dry pants.

Upon spotting you, Frenchie triumphantly lifted his arms, clearly relishing the success of his plan.

“Master of Espionage,” he declared, his grin widening as his hands remained raised in the air.

You hopped onto the kitchen counter with a chuckle. “Was it part of your grand plan to fall into the ocean, great master?” you teased.

Frenchie grabbed an orange from the counter, likely an extra that Roach hadn’t used for breakfast, and began peeling it.

“Not initially. That’s the beauty of being a master, babe,” he replied coolly. “Plans just come to you suddenly.”

After peeling the orange, he handed you the other half with a genuine smile, lifting his portion for a toast. “Cheers, my dears,” he whispered.

You were convinced that Frenchie’s plan had really changed the moment he hit the water, but his confident demeanor did have a certain charm. You both finished off your halves of the orange, placing bets on how long it would take for Izzy to realize your absence. laughter ensued as you marveled at how absurd this day had been so far.

The peaceful camaraderie in the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by the furious shouts of Izzy Hands calling your name. Frenchie seized your hand, swiftly guiding you to the pantry in the galley, where you both concealed yourselves. The echoing stomps of Izzy’s boots resonated near you, prompting you to stifle quiet laughter. Frenchie placed his hand over your mouth, setting off a shared fit of laughter, and in response, your hand covered his mouth.

When the echoes of Izzy’s boots faded in a different direction, you both removed your hands. “I’m absolutely fucked.” you laughed.

As your gaze returned to Frenchie, you caught him looking down at your lips before his eyes swiftly met yours again. The confined intimacy of the small pantry suddenly became palpable, and you sensed the mood shifting. Frenchie leaned in, and his lips gently met yours. They felt soft, carrying a lingering sweetness from the orange you both had shared just moments before. Hesitantly, he leaned away after the kiss, meeting your eyes once more with a shy smile, seemingly trying to gauge your reaction.

“Frenchie, you kissed me,” you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I couldn’t help it,” he whispered back.

This time, you took the initiative, leaning in for another kiss. Wrapping your arms around him in his warm sweater, you drew him closer. The fear of Izzy Hands faded away as you both lost yourselves in the sweet, stolen moment.

The pantry door swung open abruptly, revealing Izzy, red with anger, brandishing a cantaloupe.

“What the fuck is this?” Izzy spat at the two of them.

“A cantaloupe,” you replied, causing Izzy’s face to scrunch even more with rage.

“I thought Mr. Spriggs was the only seductress on board, but I guess I was wrong,” Izzy continued. “This little trick has earned you barnacle duty for the rest of the day.” With that, Izzy quickly turned to leave, dropping the cantaloupe onto the ground.

Frenchie shot you an apologetic look, but you responded with a giant grin. “Totally worth it,” you said, giving him one more quick kiss before following Izzy.

“Go, Frenchie,” you heard him whisper to himself when he thought you were out of earshot, causing a smile to creep across your face.

“Go, Frenchie,” you repeated quietly to yourself as you made your way to the deck.

#frenchie x reader #Frenchie ofmd #Frenchie #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd x reader #frenchie ofmd x reader

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wangxianficfinder · 7 months

Text

In the mood for...

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1. Hello lovely mods! Itmf fics where there is an OC or just another mdzs character with a crush on WWX or lwj. Someone jealous of their significant other or just plain trying to flirt with one of them. But the pairing should be strict wwx/lwj throughout ofcourse. Thank you!

Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, wangxian, modern, Guest-starring the belated but incendiary sexual awakening of LWJ, 3rd person pov, SS is hyperfixated on LWJ, LWJ does his best to pretend SS doesn't exist, WWX isn't even pretending he really doesn't notice SS exists, MM exists and is awesome, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

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2. Hello! Thank you for all the work you do in finding and recommending fics!! Presently, I am in the mood for Twin Prides of Yunmeng fics (although specifically ones where Jiang Yanli is still alive, so I suppose I should say Yunmeng Trio to be more accurate) protecting each other and being siblings, or fics that pertain to JC, JY, and WWX trying to protect and support each other from Jiang Fengmian and Yi Ziyuan’s A+ Parenting. Once again thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

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3. good morning and hope you're having a kickass sunday.i was wondering if you bestowe upon this lowly one your magic of "Rec-Finding". A) any type of meaningful apology to Wèi Yīng, after the truth comes out. like something substantial. especially (if not exclusively) w LXC. he victim plamed WWX and im not satisfied w the novel on that part (yay fanfics). I jus don't want to be immediate forgiveness. like i want a time skip that LXC is still being given a cold shoulder. tbc

hi again (rorro im verbose). B) do you have any recs Lan Zhan is more vocal to others, a public scolding of sorts, about Wèi Yīng's sacrifices and plight. but non of out of context self deprivation attitude that does more harm than anyway. ty for your patience. @masticateme

拨云见�� by RoseThorne (G, 1k, WangXian, Justice, Anger, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Restitution, Self-Indulgent, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Post-Canon) might count

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4. itmf fics where jzx and jyl are alive! I just want things with lots of family feels, like jl getting the support he needs from his parents and wwx and jc having their sis. or maybe fics where jzx actually gets to be the jin sect leader and can make these good changes to the sect. thanks in advance!

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5. could i ask for people's fave wangxian/gen cold read podfics? i adore and appreciate edited podfics obviously, but i was introduced to danmei through a twitch streamer's read-alongs where him stopping and laughing and discussing were a FEATURE ❤️ (also it kinda makes me feel better about having to redo sentences agshdjf) im fine with explicit podfics (but i do prefer canon dynamics if so) many thanks ❤️❤️ oh just to add to the cold read itmf- ive gone through a lot of kisahawklin's lovely work, which occasionally feature one of my fave things (not being able to finish a sentence due to losing it laughing)

[Podfic] Clarity (cold read) by flamingwell (G, 1-1.5 H, wangxian, Canon Divergence, past/present time switches occur throughout the fic, Podfic, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming)

I rec the podficer Dangercupcake! Specifically her podfics of Love, in fire and blood, and Please don't let me be misunderstood! She also does metas and linguistic podcasts/fics that are pretty cool!

podfic of "love, in fire and blood" by cicer by dangercupcake (M, 20h+, WangXian, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Arranged Marriage, Politics, trans reader (podfic), cold read (podfic), no editing (podfic))

Podfic of "please don't let me be misunderstood" by sysrae by dangercupcake (Not Rated, 20-30M, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Past Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, cold read (podfic))

[Podfic] Cold read of "a light hidden and singing" by occultings (microcomets) by KeriArentikai (E, 5-6h, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, brief family abuse, mentions of wangxian's canonical kinks, Misunderstandings, Blood and Injury, Rimming, Outdoor Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, First Time, Miscommunication, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, cold read podfic, unedited podfic, Getting Together) I haven't listened yet but enjoyed the fic

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6. Hiii I'm itmf a fic where wwx is reincarnated as a female plz

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 123k, wangxian, QS & WWX, NHS & WWX, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, canon divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ & WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Arranged Marriage, lying to your family about your demonic boyfriend taking over your wifes body for fun and pleasure, WWX is not in Mo Xuanyu's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, The Juniors start a conspiracy board, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Warning: JGS, Sexual Harassment, Threats, WIP)

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 18k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives)

Plans fly out the window by English is my death (Lena013) (T, <1k, JGY/QS, JGY/WWX, LWJ & WWX, JC & WWX, reincarnation, canon divergence, QS does the ritual, YLLZ WWX, impersonation)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX)

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD)

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP)

Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 59k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WZ, WWX/WRH, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury)

No Matter What You Are by LilyFaraday (M, 77k, WIP, WangXian, Female WWX, Genderbending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience)

In Sickness and In Health (And In Strange and Unexpected Times Too) by purplemonster (E, 28k, WangXian, Fem! WWX, Mpreg, well technically not mpreg since he's a woman, Fluff and Smut)

~*~

7. Hi for the next in the mood for are there any good dark Wei Wuxian fics?? I always see dark LWJ but dark WWX seems so cool too @iyo-luv

~*~

8. Hello. I hope y’all are well. Thank you for what you do. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 i was wonderinf if you can recommend fics where The Untamed Wei Ying and Lan Zhan meet MDZS Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Please and thank you.

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9. Hello ! Do you know any fics where the swords manifest as real people?

Intervention of Spirits by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

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10. Hi I'm itmf angst, can you please recommend fics where wwx just breaks / snaps and people are there to see it/ react to it ? ( could be characters watching memories , and it has that scene) thxx

Enough! by Jeeny271196 (Not Rated, 12k, WangXian, Gūsū Lán Sect Bashing, Jiāng Family Bashing, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics)

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11. Hi, I have been reading this completely amazing fics that are inspired by The Great British Bake Off, like "on your marks, get set, bake!" by BlackWiresOnHerHead and "don't threaten me with a good time" by livinginaworldofnoise, they are so fun and entertaining!! I wonder if there are more stories that deal with baking and cooking competitions. I have read the ones in the Reality TV compilation so anything else will be totally welcomed!! Thank you!! Be well!! :) @monicaop21

The Great Chinese Cook-Off by aubreyli, cafecliche, etymologyplayground, mme_anxious (G, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, The Great British Bake Off Fusion, sort of; it's more of a cooking show, because most Chinese people use their ovens for pot/pan storage, Collaboration, Screenplay/Script Format, Humor, Baking, Cooking, Stress)

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12. ITMF Wei Wuxian best uncle to Jin Ling? Anything we get to see their relationship. It can be of any kind but it'd be nice to give it extra attention if JL doesn't agree with JC's treatment towards WWX! But anything goes really. You're doing amazing work, thank you!

hills and rivers by LtLJ (T, 56k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn't murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Mojo's post)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

component parts by perfectlyrose (G, 1k, JL & WWX, minor wangxian, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Really it's angst but make it healing, Minor JYL/JZX, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, A couple of orphans figuring out family, and the legacy of parents)

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13. Hi, For the next itmf -any good fics where everything as in classic timeframe, Sects exist, pining exists, cultivation ethics problems exist, but no Jiangs in the picture. At all

Thank you! @best-before-end

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14. ITMF: A) serenity. I want fics that give serene atmosphere or feelings. Like

(ID: gif of waves gently moving on a beach)

B) fics which have beach in canon era. Or wx / wwx traveling to Ocean/beach place @whateverweilanlovechild

14A)

Of Winter Coats and Snowball Fights by Iggysassou (T, 2k, WangXian, Mentioned WN, Post-Canon, Married Couple, Fluff)

it's your soul by syriala (G, 3k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Fluff)

suddenly knowing you’re home by RavenclawLoki (T, 1k, WangXian, Fluff, head empty, no thoughts, only wangxian being married, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Canon, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts)

14B)

Linger by the Door (I've Always Been Yours) by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, canon compliant, slow burn)

Judge Softly by Chrononautical (E, 32k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LXC, LQR & WWX, Various OCs, Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Mind Reading, Oblivious WWX, WWX Has Self-Worth Issues, BAMF Wwx, Genius WWX, sex makes WWX stupid, LQR Tries, It may be more accurate to say LQR learns to try, Suffering LQR, Post-Canon Fix-It, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Teacher LQR, Mutual Pining, Longing, Playful Sex, Use Your Words, Canon-Typical Violence, Switching, Virgin WWX, Love Confessions)

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15. For ITMF, are there any fics where LSZ's time in the Burial Mounds had some effect on him, whether he remembers his time there or not? Whether it's supernatural abilities (like in LSZ Sees Dead People), or being good at 'inventing' things (cause he saw them on WWX's worktable), or random healing knowledge from overhearing WQ lecturing WWX, even if he no longer remembers where he picked up any of that stuff. @thispatternismine

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16. Thank you for all your work!

Itmf fics which actively calls into question Lan Qiren's bias and lax adherence to the lan rules. I want a confrontation or am active argument not just a character thinking about it or speaking about it to someone else. Basically, Lan Qiren gets called out fic. Extra kudos if it's during the cloud recess study arc. Love

Going on charmingly by scribbet (T, 21k, WangXian, Teenage LWJ, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR's Disciple, Genius WWX, Petty LWJ, Meddling LXC, Canon Divergence, JFM Doesn't Adopt WWX, Technically pre-relationship, POV LWJ)

Admonishment by bookwyrmling (T, 6k, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Teacher LQR, Student WWX, POV LQR, Mixed Canon, Gūsū Lán Sect Positive, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Golden Core Reveal)

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17. Hey, thanks for your work as always! I'm sure it has been done before but I couldn't find it and ITMF political intrigue fics! Extra points for fake relationships, scheming bastard coalitions, crossdressing your way to love and happiness or any of those things ☺️.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #wangxianficfinder #mdzs #the untamed #long post #i'm in the mood for a fic #wangxian fic search

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taxkha · 11 months

Note

would LOVE to hear your klapollo fic recs!! Personally I love anything by cosmicpoet on A03

Oh I have a bunch of cosmicpoets fics in my bookmarks! but okay okay, here we go! And if my wishes could all come true by SeaMint

“‘Our son’ my ass. You’re getting way too into this,” Apollo grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Is this your dream? Do you dream of being divorced and paying alimony, Gavin?” Klavier doesn’t tell him that as far as dreams go, his is to live in a world where a relationship with Apollo, past tense or otherwise, is at all possible. Apollo doesn’t need specifics, or terrible confessions in vet clinics that show how badly Klavier wants to play pretend with him.

Or, Klavier, Apollo, and how cats bring people together in the most convoluted ways possible. Okay so. This one is my favourite Klapollo fanfiction, I literally left a big ass love confession in the comment section because I enjoyed it so much.

Lookin' for a boyfriend (I see that) by SeaMint Five times Apollo tells Klavier about his dates, and the one time Klavier finally gets him to stop. Love this one as well ahh ;_; if it's really me you seek by SeaMint

“Anyway,” Ema keeps going, fully ignoring his sarcasm in favor of staring at a neat corner where the walls meet the ceiling. “I asked if he wanted to go to your party together, but he said he wasn’t going.” “What?” Apollo suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. “Why?” “Hell if I know,” Ema says nonchalantly, but then she turns to him with a smirk. “See if you can figure it out: I believe he told me, and I quote—ahem—'Ach, I would, Fräulein, but I believe Herr Justice would be more comfortable without me there.’”

Or, when Apollo comes home from Khura'in only to learn that Prosecutor Gavin is avoiding him, the last thing he expected was for Gavin to offer to let Apollo stay at his house while he looks for a new apartment. Can you tell that I really like this author shjhsamd Hot for Justice by indirectkissesiniceland

After the events of State v. Misham, Klavier finds himself in a slump, stressed at the prosecutor's office and unable to pen new songs. To his surprise, he finds creative inspiration—and unexpected feelings—spending time with Apollo. Now if only he could release the new tracks without raising any suspicion as to whom his love songs are for. Do...I even need to say anything I think this one is one of the most well known fics, ive seen it in pretty much every fic rec post so far.

just finally say you love me by ahmackalak

“Backpacking through Europe?”

“Ja! I’ve wanted to go for ages – it’s been so long since I’ve been back home, I figure I might as well make it a whole journey.” Klavier’s smile is as easy and agreeable as always, but Apollo isn’t buying it.

Barcelona, Paris, Geneva, Rome, Vienna, Prague, Berlin, Copenhagen.

A trip to Europe with Klavier Gavin...this’ll be fine, right? I like this one a lot too, its very sweet and ahh. Pining. PINING. Stupid Cupid by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS) In which Klavier botches his attempt to confess his feelings to Apollo, and somehow instead sends the entirely wrong message that he's already involved with someone else--a certain brooding and hawkish prosecutor, of all people. Cue the clown music. This is probably one of the funniest fics Ive ever read, I lost it at several instances. Monster Movie Monday by contritecactite

Klavier attends a bad movie marathon at the WAA, gets a boyfriend, and makes peace with Phoenix Wright. Somehow, the last part is the least awkward.

Set sometime post-DD but pre-SOJ. This one is very cute and wholesome, I love the idea of the wright agency kiddos hanging out with Klavier :") Need more of that. love at first sight (and other common misconceptions) by experimentaldragonfire

Klavier's always been certain that when he runs into the person he's going to fall in love with, he'll just know. Apollo believes the exact opposite--that you can't fall in love with someone without getting to know them first.

After a bit of convincing, Klavier's starting to see Apollo's point.

Just read everything by this author, one of my fave authors. 10/10 humor and writing :3c in effigy by experimentaldragonfire

Apollo discovers some scandalous Gavinners merchandise in Klavier's closet. Klavier, having no shame, decides that this is an excellent opportunity to have some fun with it.

or, The One With The Official Gavinners Dildos This ones nsfw which I don't have to mention considering the...summary 8"D morning revelations (to sleep beside you from now on) by experimentaldragonfire

It’s not until he sees Klavier beside him, golden hair strewn over the pillow like some sort of Renaissance heroine, that Apollo Justice realizes he’s in love.

Apollo wakes up next to Klavier and has to come to terms with his feelings for the prosecutor. It's very cute!! This Is What You Do At Sleepovers, Right? by grimsparkblue

“Let me guess,” Phoenix said, one of those lazy, evil smiles he had back when he wore the same hoodie for weeks on end making an appearance, “You two were in the court library and the power went off. The front and back doors were locked because this place is ancient, so you two decided to tough it out until the cavalry arrived. Then the Brokeback Mountain itch hit you.”

Apollo and Klavier get stuck in the courthouse during a blackout. Enjoyed this one a lot, it's funny and sweet, as the summary suggests.

Just a Curiosity by GigglingGrave Klavier is curious about how Apollo can see through lies. So, of course, he tries to figure it out. What he learns, however, is really much better than what he set out for. Apollo is really cool in this one and I love it when my boy gets to be cool. Baggage by u_andcloud

“Herr Forehead!” Klavier is calling out the nickname before he even realizes what he’s doing. Never mind that this is a German airport and people are giving him strange looks.

Apollo reacts immediately, and the instinctive response is gratifying on its own. His brow creases, he turns, and when he catches sight of Klavier, a disbelieving smile spreads across his lips, and Klavier realizes quite suddenly that, even after two years, he has not gotten over Apollo Justice, not even a little. This one is also really sweet. Jamais Vu by spaceburgers Apollo Justice, at 27 years old, is many things: a defense attorney, Khura’in’s Acting Minister of Justice, a mentor, a brother, a friend. And also, apparently, about to enact one of the biggest clichés of all time by sleeping with his ex at his former boss’s wedding. I LOVE THIS ONE, I already loved spaceburgers fics when I was still super into Sylvix, was very excited to see that they also wrote for Klapollo!! This one has nsfw in it! scoop of the century (read all about it!) by experimentaldragonfire

Working at a gossip magazine aimed at teenage girls is just a way for Apollo Justice to pay his law school tuition--until his article rating Klavier Gavin's outfits goes viral.

After that, he's got half the Internet reading his articles, and it's inevitable that Klavier finds out. This one is so funny!!! Also, read the second part of it which I'm not gonna link here now because its linked in the fic anyway, as its a collection. pen to paper, heart to heart by shepherd Written for the tumblr prompt, ‘instead of drawing the model in our art class ive been drawing you instead because i think youre really cute and oh my god all my papers just fell out of my folder and you saw them and oh my god theres hearts on some of them please kill me now’. Listen, I'm a simple gal. And a simple artist. Artist AUs really speak to me and this one spoke to me loudly. Its super sweet!! Loose Lips by judojudo "Please disregard all prior questions and instead just tell me one thing, Apollo," Miles Edgeworth's tone was half-smug and completely mocking and all Apollo wanted to do was melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen or heard from again. "Why are you on Klavier Gavin's wikipedia page?" I like fics that make me laugh and this one did, haha. we caught fire like california in july by lady_mab

n his head, Apollo mentally scolds himself for asking such a dumb question. Because of course Klavier likes him, right?

(Right? Being treated differently from a swarm of adoring fans isn’t necessarily a precursor for LIKE liking someone and what the fuck he’s twenty-four why does he sound like a high school girl from a manga trying to figure out if her crush likes her back?)

(Oh, that suddenly puts a lot of things into perspective, actually.)

(in which apollo contemplates the line between boyfriends and boys that are friends that sometimes kiss, and also contemplates turning into a crab)

This one is one of my faves! home is wherever i'm with you by bevioletskies At Athena’s request - or more accurately, her demand - the members of the Wright Anything Agency are spending their week-long winter holiday at a cozy lakeside cabin together for some quality team bonding. Much to Apollo’s dismay, she also invited their closest companions from the prosecutor’s office to tag along. With everything he thought he knew about Klavier and everything he has yet to learn, Apollo finds himself thinking he might have someone to ring in the new year with, after all. It's a bunch of AA characters having holidays together. What more do you want. Bricks, Lockets, and Other Christmas Presents by apolloyoostice Present shopping is always easier with someone you love, even if they do have a terrible sense of humor. This one is super sweet!! fame vs infamy (the price of writing fanfic out of spite) by experimentaldragonfire

In which Apollo Justice becomes the most popular fic-writer in the Gavinners fandom.

(and, along the way, realizes his Big Gay Crush on Klavier Gavin might not be as hopeless as he thought)

Honestly, when I read the summary I wasnt expecting to like it at all because this is usually not the kinda premise I'm into buuut I read it anyway because I liked the authors other works and man I had such a good time and many good laughs. The Main Event by ItsyRoyal Apollo had no idea that the flirty busker outside of his favorite cafe was his boss's brother. To be fair, Apollo also had no idea his boss had a brother. Theres a specific line around the end of the fic that had me wheezing. The rest of the fic is of course really good too!! The Definition Of Home by Hikari_Kaitou All Apollo wanted was to go right home after the legal conference in Seattle, instead of spending the night like his colleagues. He's never been able to sleep well in unfamiliar places. Unfortunately, circumstances beyond his control prevent him from returning to LA as planned, and in desperation he turns to Klavier for help. Klavier generously opens up his hotel room to him, which in turn leads Apollo to opening up his heart. Agh just. read it. Loved it. 13 Hours by Powerpossessor Apollo and Klavier are stuck together in a 13 hour layover. Stupid and hilarious antics ensue. Also, is it normal to slow dance with your friend in a dimly lit airport at 3am? THIS ONE IS SO SWEET AND FUN!!! can i go where you go by parchmints

Apollo Justice has rotten luck: he actually wins the grand prize for a mail-in contest, but It's a couple's getaway to a fancy ski lodge in the mountains and Apollo is aggressively single. With no one to go with, Apollo offers them to Klavier since surely, a rockstar would be able to find a date before then, but Klavier has a better idea—they go together and pretend they're a couple. That way, they both get a vacation, plus free food and wine.

And well, Apollo's never been one to pass up free food. VERY CUTE AND SWEET AND AHH. PINING. I love pining!! sweeping you off your feet by shepherd A short piece for a prompt on tumblr, for the quote "Please put me down, it's just a sprained ankle," featuring clumsy Apollo and his marriage to Klavier. A very sweet short piece!! Things Are As They Are by hechima

Klapollo cabin fic. That's really all this is.

Based on the events of "You Ever Been In Love?", in which Edgeworth gets drunk and rents a romantic cabin for Klavier and Apollo in Joshua Tree. Things go about as well as one could expect.

This is the most recent one in my bookmarks so the list ends here. I have a lot more bookmarked but these are the ones that made the biggest impression on me! Hope you or anyone else on here can find something they havent read yet! x)

#ace attorney #klapollo #klavier gavin #apollo justice #asks #fanfictions

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galebrainrot2024 · 3 months

Text

Gale Seeking Godhood Part IV

Oh boy. This was a doozy to write and I hurt my own feelings. Anyway, here is Part IV of Gale seeking godhood. Enjoy folks.

You stand on the bustling streets of Waterdeep, the sounds of merchants and passers by echoing in the chambers of your mind. Tara had summoned you here, on a matter most urgent - Gale had retrieved all three of the Nether Stones.

You stayed away, although he tried to follow after you that fateful morning, although he offered words of solace and adoration. He fell to your feet, begging you not to leave, to remain by his side.

“Please,” he had whispered, clutching your legs as he kissed your ankles and calves in repentance, “I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. Please, don’t do this… you don’t know what you’re saying…” It was the first time you saw him drop all of his defenses and hubris, his ego dissolving as he pooled at your feet begging for your love. The love you once had, that was once a formidable force was now tightly locked away. You left him then despite your heart shattering and ripping to shreds, every fiber in your being beseeching you to change your mind as you heard his quiet, fierce yell behind you. You did not turn around. You could not. You could not forget yourself, no matter how much you loved him.

Even so despite your best interests, here you are at the threshold of his domain in Waterdeep. When you received Tara’s note, you sensed the panic in the few words.

Come at once. -T

You inhale deeply, allowing the salty air to fill your lungs with courage. Your heart beat feels like a drumming song, the lump in your throat feeling like a knotted pine as you cross the precipice and into Gale’s home.

The tower is looming, the insides painted with fauna and flora of all kinds, shelves stacked with tomes and magical items fill the walls and the picture windows allow the natural light of day to waft through, kissing your skin. Although Gale had conjured this space for you before the illusion almost did no justice. It smells faintly of sandalwood and oak, along with a tincture you are unfamiliar with. You see Tara outstretched in a particularly pleasant looking beam of sunlight. She turns to you, blinking her slender eyes in acknowledgment. “It’s about time. He’s in his study, pouring over the texts as we speak. Don’t dawdle. I’ve been avoiding him, as is to be expected. He’s been downright incorrigible and rude. I hope you know what you’re doing seeing as how you enabled this wretched behavior.” Tara yawned, stretching her body.

Although it guts you as Tara speaks in this way, you know this to be true. You should have done more, could have done more. But the past was the past and it cannot be changed. That was your only certainty. You rummage in your bag to retrieve a potion of ‘detect thoughts’ and ‘invisibility,’ both of which you bartered for at Bonecloak’s Apothecary. You shake them and tap your temple, grinning. “Nothing if not prepared,” you say and Tara chirrups and goes back to sleep.

You timidly creep up the winding staircase that leads to Gale’s study. You drink the two potions and feel woozy, the taste burning a bit as it slithers down your throat and down your gullet. Wincing, you see the door is cracked and see Gale pouring over the Netherese tomes. You inhale, unprepared to see him for the first time since the day you left. Seeing him feels you with both warmth and despair, grieving the man he was and yearning for his touch once more.

That is not your purpose right now, though so you push the thoughts away and focus your mind in order to peak around through the folds of Gale’s brain. It takes you a moment and you part the folds gingerly and all at once you are within the enclaves of his mind.

The images and words are muddled at first as you try to make sense of them before the hazy edges of memory come into focus. You hear Gale’s voice in your mind, It shouldn’t be this bloody difficult, focus Gale, focus! He tries to murmur the unfamiliar words in his mind and he audibly shouts, burying his face in his hands and soundless sob wracks his body. His vulnerability in this moment tugs at your heart and you want nothing more than to step forward and wrap your arms around him and feel the warmth of his body against yours, to soothe him and bask him in comfort. It’s as if your anger and hurt falls away to give way to the root of your love and adoration you still feel for him, despite how he’s treated you, despite everything. You see that there is still time, as he has only begun to decipher the ancient texts that are almost incomprehensible. Most of the words have been rubbed away, difficult to make sense of. You see Gale berate himself. Incompetent. Unworthy. Mystra was right. You are unworthy of godhood. You are nothing. You can’t even make sense of this. Pull yourself together you wretched thing, you were once a Wizard of considerable acclaim.. you cannot stop now, not after all you’ve lost.

You had, prior to this moment, respected Gale’s privacy - he made it clear early on that he would rather one ask him outright than subversively explore his mind without his consent. Now, she understood why. The way he spoke to himself was so… disheartening and as his thoughts shifted, you feel your resolve weaken.

His thoughts shift to you. You feel his heart swell with both pain and a love that feels almost terrifying. The moment you shared in the Weave, the first night your bodies became one and when Gale said he loved you, images of you during battle, flushed and gleaming. You see more flashes of yourself, your smile, your laugh, and you feel the depth of Gale’s emotion right then, the regret and loss drowning you and him simultaneously. It broke your heart and it made you angry. Why couldn’t he share this with you? Why couldn’t he put aside his pride and just admit he was wrong, admit that the goal was nothing but simple, petty vanity. What have I done… oh, Tav, I’m so sorry. You see then the mist begin to form in his eyes and the silent, hot tears begin to stream down his cheeks which he wipes away quickly. You see the drops fall onto the text and Gale groans, standing to go to the picture window and gazes out to the dock.

Abruptly, Gale turned on his heel and began to move his hands in short fire bursts. You hold your breath and you realize he’s casting detect magic. You go to leave and the door slams shut behind you and despite trying the lock, he’s enchanted it. Shit, you think to yourself.

“I didn’t appreciate it as a child and I certainly don’t appreciate it now, mother. If you have something to say or have a question, don’t hide behind these trivial potions and ask me outright.” Gale flicks his wrist and now, you are visible to him and his mouth hangs open in surprise before snapping shut and he mutes the expressions that dance across his features. “Oh.. it’s you.” His voice is quiet and his eyes narrow. “Were you - did Tara put you up to this? Have you been spying on me the entire time?” His voice blackens and he steps towards you, grasping your wrists in his hands. “What did you see?” He murmurs, his voice is both strained and unreadable.

“I didn’t… I-” You stumble over your words, your mind emptying as you feel his fingers on your wrists. His touch.. oh, you forgot how your body craves his touch.

“How dare you,” He says through gritted teeth and releases your wrists, running his hand through his hair and the other rests on his hip. He shoots you a withering glance and takes another step away from you. “You withhold yourself, vanish into the ether without so much as a word for months and now here you are, using a vulgar potion to breech my privacy?” He snorted, his emotions clouding his judgement. As his emotions grew in volatility, so did yours. “I suppose I don’t really know you at all.”

“That’s rich,” you bristle, a sardonic laugh falling from your lips and your arms begin to follow the explosive emotions that flowed from you like a hurricane, “That’s absolutely rich. You put your desire for the crown over my life, Gale. I came here out of respect for Tara, out of the love that I so stupidly still feel for you,” you see Gale’s eyes flash for a moment with longing before clouding again. You hear the sound of claws at the door and Gale furiously undoes his arcane lock to allow Tara in.

She slinks and jumps onto Gale’s desk, her tone biting. “If you want to head down the road to ruin, this will be the end for me too, Gale. I won’t stay here to watch. If you do this, this will be goodbye. After all, what use has a God for the wisdom of a Tressyum.”

Gale groans and his anger rises until he says, “Fine. If you both insist on being such hinderances I suppose this is goodbye, then. It’s a shame that not even my oldest friend, not even the one I love accepts my aspirations. Perhaps you both have more in common with Mystra than I previously realized. Rather short sighted. So, fine, go if you wish. I will not stop you.”

Your clench your teeth together, even Tara starting at the tone and intensity of your voice. “Do you remember one of the first things you said to me, when you told me about the orb? About your need of magical artifacts?”

“If your intention is to lecture me -“

Gale begins but you hold up your finger and say icily, “You will listen to me, or I will take the stones from your corpse.” The threat dumbfounds him, taking the wind from his sails enough for you to continue, “You told me about a great Wizard, one that once, a very long time ago constructed a city in the skies. How he sought to usurp the Goddess of magic to become a God himself. How he almost managed, yet when he tried his entire empire came crashing down around him as he turned to stone, that his greed for power resulted in Mystra herself becoming undone. That magic itself was lost for a time, the cosmos roiling chaotically until the day Mystra was reborn. You told me of your own folly, your own hubris, your own lust for power cursing you with the orb to begin with - believing you knew better than a God. Gale’s folly, you called it. And yet, here we are, at the precipice of repeating history. How can you not see that?”

“I am not the man I was. I am not Karsus. I will not fail,” Gale says steely, “I will do what Karsus never could.”

You feel yourself deflate, you hoped this last effort to appeal to his sensibility would be fruitful and instead, Gale digs his heels in. You turn to leave and Gale scoffs, “Leaving so soon? Done with your lecturing? Believing you know best?” His tone was biting and you feel the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes.

Tara interjects and hisses, swapping her claws that catch Gale’s sleeve and he cries out for a moment as his robe splits and blood pricks from his skin, “Gale. You are being monstrous.” He glares at her and you turn for a moment, your gaze and tone empty. There is nothing left for you here.

“I never want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that.” Gale’s bravado drops and his expression softens, his wide, brown eyes desperate for you to stay. He barely whispers the next words, “You’ll come around, you’ll see.” He reaches out a hand to you and you recoil as if it’s poison.

“No, Gale. No, I won’t. You want to be a God? Who am I, then, a worthless mortal, to stop you.” With that, you slam the door behind you as the tears of defeat, of unimaginable pain fall all at once.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 brainrot #bg3 gale #god gale #baldurs gate 3 #gale #gale x tav #bg3 art #gale romance #baldur's gate gale #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav

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scared-cr0ws · 9 months

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may i introduce the first character i’ve made in a very long time!

this is chroma!

He’s part of a wandering trio of bounty hunters working under core frisk; with the other two members being Ace and Graphite! both of whom belong to @necrolexic0n :)

Chroma is seemingly a bit of a stoic person on the surface, not emoting much naturally and staying rather flat but this isnt for the reasons most people assume! chroma just has incredibly poor memory and due to his past isnt fully accustomed to working around people.

(ive been working on chroma for almost a year now! heres his baby pictures/past design LOL)

chroma has a strong sense of justice and responsibility to help the small picture. to help save the people behind the grand problems of the multiverse that most guardians and powers just determine as collateral.

(chroma is technically half-blind like son like parent but he can see out of either eye as long as it has the pupil)

he values the friends he’s made along the way very highly and eventually calls the omega timeline his home :)

you’ll likely see a bit of him around my blog along with Ace and Graphite as well!!

#ut multiverse #utmv #utmv oc #Chroma #core’s angels #rekindled au #long post

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froggibus · 1 year

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Resurrection - Wally West

Pairing: Wally West x gn! Reader, platonic! Dick Grayson x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: it’s been almost a year since Wally died, and life has not been kind to you. it doesn’t help that when you get the flu and your fever spikes, you start seeing the speedster everywhere you turn

CW: loss of a loved one, grief, sickness, hallucinations, reader is worried they’re going crazy, overactive imagination, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, panic attacks, ghosts, reader was a part of Young Justice, mutual pining, friends to lovers, resurrection

This alludes heavily to the Young Justice tv show, especially Wally’s death. I apologize in advance because I have poor knowledge of the Flash Family and speedforce!!

day 1 of me pushing my Wally West agenda!! i absolutely adore Wally, and im so happy to be writing about him. this is literally the longest thing ive ever posted on this site but I got so into the story that I couldn’t stop. hopefully this makes sense and isn’t just a jumble of words 😭also i think from now on im gonna include wally in any of my dick/jason/tim hcs

also im very tempted to do a pt2/make a series of wally adapting to life afterwards

————

You groan in your bed, your fever spiking to an almost unbearable temperature. You spend a lot of time in bed nowadays—ever since your best friend died almost a year ago, you haven’t had the drive to do much. But being sick the past week has only confined you to your bed even more.

You roll over, hoping the other half of your pillow is somehow cooler than the side you’re on now. It’s not, and your body feels like it’s going to overheat. If it was possible to put less clothing on, you would, but the chances of your roommate coming in and seeing you naked are too high.

Speaking of your roommate, you know that when Dick comes home and sees how bad your temperature has gotten, he’ll rush you to the hospital. Paranoid, big brother Dick who insists he can’t lose another friend. Dick, who moved in with you a few months after Wally died because he was afraid you might hurt yourself. Dick, who forced you to put socks on and keep most of your clothes on because even though you feel hot, he knows you’re still vulnerable to the cold.

The socks scratch at your ankles now and you long to pull them off, lazily dragging your feet together. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your burning nerve ends.

As much pain as you’re in, this is the most you’ve felt since Wally died. From the day you watched him get vaporised, everything around you has just gotten duller by the day. You can hardly stomach to put on your costume, let alone look at Barry or Bart. Even seeing The Flash on the news is enough to make you sick.

“Y/n,” a soft voice echoes from the bed next to you.

You force your eyes open, your dark room greeting you. “Hello?”

There’s no answer, and you’re able to close your eyes again. You relax into your bedsheets, kicking the blankets off of your legs in a desperate attempt to get some relief. Clearly your fever has spiked to the point where you’re losing it.

“Y/n!” The voice is stronger now, and it sounds more desperate than before. More than that—there’s something familiar to it.

You open your eyes again and gasp, all of the breath leaving your body. There, sitting on the bed next to you, is Wally. His green eyes are full of concern, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

“Oh god,” you whine, “I really am losing it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the hallucination of your dead best friend to go away. How could any god be so cruel to inflict this on you? Knowing how you felt about Wally—and what he’d said to you during your last moments together?

When you open your eyes again, he’s still sitting there. His unruly red hair is falling into his face and all you want is to reach out and brush it away.

“You’re not losing it,” he says.

“I’m so sick that I’m hallucinating my dead best friend. How is that not losing it?”

He shrugs. “I mean it does sound pretty crazy, but I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re dead,” you say simply, voice void of emotions. “You died and you left and you’re never coming back.”

“I got better.”

Everything about him screams Wally. His voice, his mannerisms, even the stupid jokes he makes. But you know it’s just your brain playing a stupid trick on you. Your braincells have overheated and you’re left staring at a ghost.

“No, you didn’t. And you never will, Wally. And I know that so I don’t get why my stupid brain can’t leave this alone.”

He lays down on his side next to you, looking up at you with those doe eyes. “There wasn’t a body, you know.”

His words make you angry, they make you choke on the lump in your throat. But he’s right. Something about his death always seemed wrong to you, and even after this long, you still can’t accept it. He’s saying all of the right things, and it almost makes you believe he’s really here.

“So say you are here…why now? Why here? Why am I the only one who’s seen you?”

He strokes his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t really know, y/n. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve watched everything. I know how hard things have been for you guys…”

You don’t say anything, just staring at him expectantly, forcing him to keep talking.

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but I’m glad Dick is taking care of you.”

“Answer the question, Wally. Why now?”

He sighs. “I think it’s because you’re sick. I think once your fever got past a certain point you were able to hear me, and once you could hear me, you could see me.”

“How would that even work?” You squint at him, “how did you even know I could hear you?”

“I didn’t it’s just—it’s a habit to talk to you, you know? But anyway, I think it has something to do with the speed force being attracted to the release of energy, and whenever you have a fever, you release massive amounts of it. But since yours is so high…” he gestures at himself for emphasis.

“So as long as I stay sick, I can see you?”

“I think so.”

“Then I never want to get better,” you murmur.

“Y/n,” he sighs, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. You’ve only ever heard him use it once before—with you on the day he died.

The thought brings a tear to your eye, his words echoing in your ears. I love you, y/n, I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?

When Dick gets home from work, he’s surprised to hear you talking. His first instinct is that you’re feeling better and you’re arranging to go back to work, but as he gets closer to your bedroom door, he realizes it’s not the case.

He listens in for a bit, hearing a one sided conversation. As soon as he hears you say ‘Wally’, he’s barging through your door only to find you talking to the air.

“Dick!” You cry out, gesturing to the empty bed next to you, “look! He’s back, he’s here. Wally’s here!”

Dick’s heart aches for you. You’re clearly unwell and in your feverish state, your mind is playing tricks on you.

“Y/n,” Dick sighs, “I think it’s time we go to a doctor.”

He approaches your bedside slowly, trying not to startle or upset you. He knows you’re hallucinating, and he really doesn’t want to trigger anything worse to happen.

He kneels at your bedside, just behind Wally. “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“N-no! I can’t leave Wally!”

Wally’s face crinkles up the way it always has when he feels guilty. “Y/n, I think you should go with Rob.”

“No!” You cry out, “you can’t leave me again!”

Dick gives you no warning before he��s pulling you into his arms, your feverish skin scorching his. He holds you securely, even as you cry and beg him to take you back to Wally.

“Wally, please! Do something! Let him see you! Don’t—don’t leave me again!”

“Y/n,” Dick rubs your sweaty hair out of your face. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re really sick, and you’re hallucinating, but we’ll make you all better. I just need you to trust me.”

You take a deep breath, and then another, looking over Dick’s shoulder at the redhead sitting on your bed, giving you a sad look. He gives you a wave, “it’s okay, y/n. Everything will be okay.”

You just hope he’s right.

—

The hospital takes an eternity to admit you, leaving you lying on Dick’s lap in the waiting room. You keep your eyes closed, hoping that if you open them Wally will be there, but you know he won’t.

Dick strokes your hair, rubs your back, does anything he can to keep you comfortable. When a nurse finally calls your name, he helps you to your feet and half carries you down the hall.

They leave the two of you in a small, isolated room with a bed covered in scratchy sheets. Dick helps you climb up while the nurse insists a doctor will be by shortly.

Dick holds your hand the whole time, the skin on his palm turning sweaty from where your hand touches his. Your fever has only gone up since you left the house and you feel like you’re going to burn alive.

Finally, a doctor comes in and she starts to run all kinds of tests on you. After a while, they insert an IV into your arm and push fluids to keep you hydrated. They give you medicine to help you drift off to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut before you realize what’s happening.

You wake up a few hours later, Dick no longer asleep at your bedside. Your temperature has gone down, and while you still feel feverish, you’re coherent enough to know what’s going on around you.

“—hallucinating our best friend who died almost a year ago.” Dick tried to keep his voice down but you can hear it from the hallway.

“It’s common in extremely high fever’s to experience visual, auditory and sometimes even tactile hallucinations,” the doctor explains. “Y/n’s fever was beyond high enough to cause any number of these complications.”

Your shoulders slump. You knew deep down that Wally wasn’t really there, that he was a hallucination, but a part of you just hoped…

“But it’s going to be alright? There’s not any permanent side effects?”

The doctor sounds tired of Dick’s questions. “No, we’re keeping y/n overnight for observation but there shouldn’t be any long term side effects.”

Dick thanks the woman and slips back into your room, stopping in his tracks past the door when he realises you’re awake. “How are you feeling?” He whispers.

“Somewhat better,” you admit. “Not hallucinating anymore.”

He sits in the chair next to your bed and squeezes your hand. “That’s good to hear.”

“I-I’m sorry if I upset you earlier…talking about Wally and everything. I just—it seemed so real, you know? He was right there, Dick.”

“I know. You don’t need to apologize. Your mind was playing tricks on you, n/n. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

You can’t help the tears that trickle down your cheeks. “I just—I miss him so much!”

“It’s okay,” Dick leans over your bed, pulling you tightly to his chest. “I miss him too. I miss him so, so much. And if there was any chance…you know I would take it too.”

“Did I ever tell you what he said to me that day? Just before he passed?”

Dick shakes his head.

“He said—,” your voice shakes so severely it’s hard to get the words out. “He said ‘I love you, y/n. I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?’”

The gears in Dick’s brain click together, and suddenly everything makes sense. It was no secret that you and Wally had been pining after each other for years. Always cuddling and fighting and loving and hating each other. Dick was close to both of you, and he of all people knew how your feelings were bubbling over. He knew how badly you wanted to be with Wally—and how badly Wally wanted to be with you.

It’s a cruel joke, he thinks. That in one day you got everything you wanted, and an hour later had it ripped away. No wonder you’d been like a zombie this year.

“Y/n…” he squeezes your hand reassuringly.

You squeeze his hand back, and between the fever and the medicine and Dick’s skin on yours, everything in the world feels right for a minute.

—

It takes two weeks for you to fully recover from being sick. If it weren’t for your roommate being the ultra rich adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you probably would have had to go back to work sooner. Dick insisted that you stay home until you were fully recovered, though, offering to cover your bills for the month.

It’s also been two weeks since you saw Wally. It’s been easy to brush it off as a fever dream, but something deep within you wants it to be something more than that. Still, you try to continue on with your day to day life, putting thoughts of the speedster as far away from you as possible.

You pull into the Bludhaven News parking lot with ten minutes to spare. You grab your bag from the passenger seat and clip your badge to your shirt before grabbing the coffee you’d stopped for on the way. You’re determined to make today a good day.

You settle in at your desk, smiling at the picture of you and the original Young Justice team was kids. It makes you happy, but in the most bittersweet meaning of the word. You run your fingers across the glass, stopping them at the lightning symbol on Wally’s chest.

You’re interrupted by your boss stopping at your desk.

“Hey, l/n, good to have you back,” she smiles, and you feel as though she really means it. “We’re having a meeting in five minutes.”

You nod, thanking her. She leaves you at your desk, letting you get organized before you have to meet them in the conference room.

You bring your laptop and coffee and settle in at the big round table in the spinning desk chair. Other journalists, reporters and higher ups slowly file into the room, filling it up until it’s so full it feels almost hard to breathe.

Your boss enters the room last, standing at the front in front of the tv. She welcomes you back before explaining what’s going on in current events, and what she expects everyone to report on.

You sip your coffee, zoning out for the majority of her presentation. Every once and a while, she clicks a remote and the screen changes to a new slide. You don’t pay much attention to the tv, only glancing at it every so often.

When the screen changes to three familiar figures, you freeze. It feels like someone dumped cold water on you, and you’re painfully aware of everything going on around you.

The screen shows Wally, Bart and Barry on the day he died. Wally has a big grin on his face, clad in his Kid Flash suit, giving a salute to a security camera. You’re not sure how they got this picture, but a part of you wishes they didn’t.

“—the one year anniversary since the Flash Family saved the world, and since Kid Flash bravely sacrificed himself to achieve this goal. We want to honour them for their ultimate sacrifice, and that’s why this month, we’ll be doing daily pieces on the great exploits of the family. Also—,”

Her words echo in your ears, everything feels far away from you. The only thing you can focus on is the way your heart is pounding and the way all the air is sucked out of your lungs. Wally’s face stares at you from the tv screen, and the walls close in.

You’re on your feet in an instant. “Pardon me,” you rasp out, before almost running out of the room.

You’re not sure where you’re going. Your head is spinning, your heart is racing, everything is fading away. You stumble your way into the bathroom, locking the door behind you before your knees buckle and you hit the floor.

You claw at your throat, desperate for air. You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching your fists, desperate for pressure. When you open your eyes, you swear Wally is there.

“You’re not here,” you gasp. “You’re not real.”

Wally’s green eyes are wide, staring at you with concern. “Y/n—,”

“You’re not real! You’re just some ghost—fucking haunting me for no reason at all!”

It breaks his heart to see you like this. So sad, so hurt, barely able to breathe.

“Stop,” you choke out, “stop haunting me! Stop, stop, stop it!”

Wally hasn’t seen you have a panic attack this bad since you were kids. Curled up in a ball, gasping for air and repeating the same word over and over again. He’s desperate to help you—help you like he did back then.

He doesn’t even register what he’s doing until he pulls you into his lap, arms tight around your waist. He keeps a hand over your heart, tracing circles over it.

“Y/n, y/n…” He murmurs softly, “y/n, listen to me. Deep breath in, okay? Follow my example, feel my heart beating.”

You’re not sure how you can feel his arms on you, feel his heart beating against your back. You’re half convinced you’ve already fainted, and you’re laying on the bathroom floor having another fever dream.

Still, you follow his example. You breathe in when you feel his chest rise, and breathe out when you feel his chest fall. You stay silent for a few minutes, leaning completely against Wally until you can breathe again.

Wally rubs your hair, his other hand tracing circles on your hip bone. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Better,” you admit.

It takes a few minutes longer for either of you to register that he’s touching you. His hands are on your body and you can feel them.

“Wally, you’re touching me.”

“I’m touching you?”

The shock is almost enough to send you back into a panic attack. Ghosts can’t touch people, neither can fever dreams. But somehow, someway, Wally West is holding you in his arms.

—

You leave the bathroom ten minutes later, after you and Wally went back and forth on if he was really there with you or not. You insist you’re losing it, but Wally insists he’s there, and somehow when you were sick, you connected to the speed force and now you can see him.

You head back to your desk with no intention of working, set on researching the speed force and if it’s possible to connect to it without being a speedster. Of course, Google doesn’t yield the results you hope, so you decide to go a different route.

You pull out your phone and text Dick.

You: do you think you could get me Barry’s number? need it for work

Robin 1.0: I think I can manage

You: you’re the best

Robin 1.0: don’t you know it

It only takes a few minutes before he texts you his contact for Barry Allen. You waste no time in opening the contact and sending him a quick text.

Of course, you don’t get to see what he responds because suddenly your boss is over your shoulder.

“Y/n, you know what our policy is on personal devices at work. There’s too much sensitive information here.”

“I know, I know. But if I play my cards right,” your ability to think on your feet coming in handy, “I could get us an exclusive interview with the Flash.”

She lights up at that. “Okay, but remember, no pictures or recordings.”

“Sure thing,” you nod and wait for her to leave before opening up your phone and seeing that you have a new text.

You: can I ask you a few questions on the speed force?

Barry Allen: sure thing

You: i know the speedforce is like it’s own separate thing that speedsters connect to, but is it possible for non speedsters to connect to it?

Barry Allen: only under extenuating circumstances. not every ordinary person can just connect to it, but if you’ve been in contact with the speedforce unwittingly or if a speedster has accidentally shared particles with you it’s possible. why?

You: just…a theory im working on for work. we’re doing a piece on Flash Family to honour you guys for saving the world and I wanted to look into it more

You: thank you

Barry Allen: do you think you’ve been in contact with a speedster recently?

You: i don’t know, if I’m being honest.

Barry Allen: okay…keep me updated, okay? if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask

You: thanks

You frown, your conversation with Barry only making you feel more confused. How would you have had contact with a speedster or the speedforce? It’s been almost a year since you last touched Wally, and there’s no way the symptoms are only coming out now. And the speedforce—there’s no way for you to have connected with it either.

You look up from your phone only to see Wally sitting on your desk, looking at you with amusement. “Get what you wanted?”

“Why are you still here?”

“What?” He holds his hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

You go to speak but realize your coworkers are giving you strange looks. You quickly put your phone up to your ear, pretending to be on a phone call.

“Of course I want you here. I lo—miss you, okay? But it’s not possible. You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am, y/n. And did Barry not just confirm that to you?”

You sigh. “I will admit, what Barry said does confirm my theory, and what you said while I was sick but…”

“But?”

“It shouldn’t be possible. You were vaporized, Wally. You’re dead. So even if you are here, you’re just a ghost.”

“Ghost, schmost,” he rolls his eyes, leaning in to flick your arm. “Does that not feel real to you?”

“I don’t know, okay? Just—I need time to think. About everything.”

You don’t say it, but it lingers in the air: I need time to think about you.

You put your phone down, indicating to the boy that you’re done talking, before returning to your job. The day goes by fast when you’re contemplating if you’re actually being haunted by the ghost of your best friend or not.

Before you know it, you’re heading home. When you get through the door of the apartment, Dick is nowhere to be found. He must still be at work, you think.

You kick off your shoes and set your bag on the counter before throwing yourself on your bed. You lay down for only a minute before a familiar cologne fills your scent. One you haven’t smelled in a long time.

You don’t need to open your eyes to know that Wally is back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I could catch you changing,” you can hear the grin in his voice.

You sit up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait—if you’ve been here this whole time then…?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I didn’t! I mean, I thought about it but…it feels wrong.”

“More wrong than confessing your love to me and then dying?”

Both of you freeze after that, and your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can force the words back in there.

“I—y/n…you know that if I had a choice, I would have come back to you. Right?”

You nod, “I know. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he places a hand over yours. “I wanted to come back to you. Even though you didn’t say it back, I just thought—”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say it back! You dumped all that on me and then you ran away and left, Wally! You didn’t give me the chance!”

Your outburst surprises both of you. Wally isn’t sure what to do—if he should apologize or be angry or both or neither. So he says nothing.

“I-I think you should go, Wally. You’re only doing harm by being here. You’re dead and I need to move on and I never will if you’re just here haunting me.”

You expect him to argue or to make a joke, but the boy doesn’t do any of that. He gives you a lazy, one handed salute, like the kind he would give before speeding away as kids.

And then he disappears.

You feel sad and angry all at the same time. You know it’s not fair to Wally to lash out at him like that, but how is it fair for him to open up old wounds? For him to haunt you?

When Dick gets home, he’s surprised to see you dressed in your old costume. It’s been so long since you put it on, you look almost strange to him.

“Uh, y/n?” He asks, “not that I’m against this but, what’s up with the costume?”

“I was thinking I could go out on patrol with you tonight,” you explain. “It’s been a while. I need to blow off steam.”

“Okay, let me get changed.”

That’s good enough for you, so you settle in at the counter and wait for Nightwing to suit up. He comes out a few minutes later, clad in the black and blue Nightwing suit.

He looks at you seriously through his domino mask. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If I don’t get out, I’ll go stir crazy.”

“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender. “But don’t push yourself, okay? And I’ll be there the whole time.”

“Alright, dad,” you roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

—

Patrol goes fine. It’s just the usual robberies and gang violence, nothing that you and Nightwing can’t handle. Of course, that’s until you hear there’s a bank robbery over the scanner.

The two of you are about to take off and head towards the bank when you hear the radio go off again. This time, it’s a jewellery store being robbed.

“Go!” You say to Nightwing, “you get the bank, I can handle the store.”

He seems content with that answer, grappling to the nearest rooftop and heading off towards the bank. You turn and head towards the jewellery store, hoping it’s enough to take your mind off of Wally.

You get to the store just in time to stop the robbers from shooting the owner. You knock the gun out of one of their hands, turning to fight the other one. There’s five total, maybe six, but your vision is tunnelling and all you can focus on is the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your need for a distraction.

You make your way through three of them, and just as you turn to fight the fourth, you hear someone yell from behind you.

“Y/n, look out!”

You knock out the fourth and turn around, just in time to see Wally West pass through you and punch the man in the face. He hits him hard enough to send him falling to the floor.

You stare at Wally in shock. “You—you hit him!”

“Are you okay?” He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You saved me…” You mutter. “How did you do that?”

“I-I don’t know,” he admits, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt and then I passed through you and—”

“Dick!” You exclaim, realising you haven’t heard anything from him in a while, and that he still hasn’t returned to you. “Somethings wrong, Wal. We—I gotta go!”

Wally goes to protest, but you’re already running away. Not only are you running away, you’re running at the speed of light, yellow lightning crackling from your ankles. You don’t realize it, too focused on getting to Dick.

You arrive at the bank to see a bunch of lackeys passed out on the floor. Nightwing is leaning on a counter, holding his hands over a bullet hole in his side.

“Hey!” You cry out, skidding to a stop next to him. The bank smells gross, like gunpowder and..burning rubber? “Are you okay? Did you get them all?”

He clenched his jaw. “All but one. He headed North, there’s no way we’ll catch him. He’s probably out of town by now.”

“No, he’s not going to get away with this. We’re going to find him.”

And before Dick can ask, you’re tearing away from the bank, lightning in your wake. His jaw falls open at the sight. In the dark, with the speed you’re going and the lightning coming out, you almost look like Wally…

You run as fast as you can, keeping your eyes peeled for the man driving the truck of jewels. You catch up to him in no time, throwing your body weight against the truck fast enough to tip it over.

Your veins are electrified, pure lightning in your system, better than adrenaline ever could be. You rip the man out of the truck and toss him onto the street. It only takes one hit for you to knock him out, and only a few more seconds to tie him up.

It’s then that you realize what just happened, how fast you were going. You look down to see the soles of your shoes on fire, the thighs of your costume torn open from the fabric chafing so fast.

Something about the ruined shoes and the torn fabric makes you think of Wally, and the thought of the ghost in the bank saving your life only makes you want to run even more. Is this how he felt everytime he ran? It’s exhilarating, it only makes you want more.

You keep running, running straight up the side of a building before stopping in your tracks on the roof. How did this even happen? You look around, half expecting to see Wally there, but he’s not.

Your legs quiver, threatening to collapse beneath you. Your feet ache from all of the running and your shoes have practically disintegrated into nothing. You know you’re done for the night, your body at its absolute limit.

Your knees buckle, but before you can hit the ground, there’s a streak of yellow and suddenly Wally is holding you up against his chest.

“I—what’s going on?” You ask.

Wally holds you up with one arm, staring at his other hand. He shakes it, going fast enough to make it seem as though his hand is vibrating.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I—something’s changed. I can feel it.”

You hear the unmistakable sound of a grappling hook before Nightwing is landing on the roof. “Holy shit, y/n. How were you going so fast? For a second there, I thought it was—Wally?”

His face pales at the sight of the redhead, clad in his Kid Flash suit, holding you up against his body. There’s no way he’s here now, alive and well, right in front of his eyes.

“You…you can see him?”

Dick is running across the roof in an instant, feet pushing him closer to his best friend. He jumps on both of you, arms wrapping around you both. “Wally,” he sobs into his shoulder. “How—how are you here?”

There’s another flash of lightning—red lightning—and suddenly The Flash is standing next to you guys. “I can answer that.”

Wally grins insanely wide, making sure you’re steady against Dick before jumping to hug his former mentor.

“How did you know I was here?” He asks.

Barry smiles, “I could feel it. In the speedforce. There was a huge amount of energy released and then for the first time in a year, I could feel you.”

“But how did that happen?” Dick interjects, before adding, “not that we’re not happy to see you.”

Wally goes back to hugging you, wiping off the tears that have slipped from your eyes and kissing the top of your forehead. “I think y/n here somehow borrowed my speed and-and opened a portal into the speedforce.”

“I brought you back?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely a whisper.

“You brought me back!” He’s beaming at you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, spinning you in a circle. He sets you down on the ground, only to tip your head back and plant a kiss to your lips. It’s intense, passionate, full of the longing he’s felt for you since you were kids.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, using him to keep yourself up. His body is so warm and hard under your touch, so familiar to you. You draw him closer, not even caring if Dick and Barry are standing there staring at you.

When he finally pulls away, he flashes you the biggest smile in the world. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“So,” Dick awkwardly says, “why don’t we take this back to our place?”

Wally grabs your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

#wally west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #wally x reader #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash x you #young justice #young Justice x reader #young Justice x you #the flash #dick grayson

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