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#black dagger legacy

ellajim122 · 2 years

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Qhuinn: Can I ask a question?

Blay: Shoot.

Qhuinn: *shoots the ceiling*

Qhuinn: Can I ask my question now?

#incorrect quotes #black dagger legacy #black dagger brotherhood #bdb #bdl #qhuinn #blay #gay love #lover at last

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blog-sliverofjade · 2 years

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Wrath: Ok, let’s stop using the term ‘butthurt,’ we’re not 12 anymore

Lassiter: You sound fannytroubled

Rhage: A little bootybothered if you ask me

Tohrment: Someone’s having a tushytantrum

#incorrect quotes #black dagger brotherhood #jr ward #rhage #lassiter #wrath #tohrment #black dagger legacy

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holybibly · 4 days

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Bunnies, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to give you a little teaser of my upcoming work with Hwa. I'm going to raise the bar for fanfic writing by creating the most gothic and decadent universe possible. It's a vicious mix of Interview with the Vampire and Dracula, so if you don't like bloody luxury, I feel so sorry for you.

It has always been like this, and it will always be like this—people avoid the village that stands beside the sinister Gothic castle where, according to legend, a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate possibilities, as if a chance fall of cards on a regal, bloody velvet tablecloth could take him out of this cold, shuttered room and into a land of eternal summer and human warmth, erasing his heart's ancient sadness and allowing him to feel the love for the one who embodies both life and death simultaneously.

His voice is full of the distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo that has resounded beneath the layers of the earth: "You have traveled to a place from which there is no return; you have traveled to a place from which there is no return. And he himself is like a dark dungeon filled with lonely echoes—a system of repetition, a closed circle. He is so handsome that his beauty appears unnatural; his beauty is an anomaly, a perfect defect, for in none of his hypnotic features is there even a suggestion of the poignant imperfection manifested in the imperfection of human existence. His beauty is the sign of a fatal disease; his blood is full of poison; and his black tears are the sign of the absence of a soul in him.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizens of darkness are the guides of the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened like steel daggers. These nails and teeth—beautiful, glistening in the darkness like snow under the light of the moon—are visible signs of his inescapable fate, which he so desperately tries to escape with magical powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies; he is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when men worshipped blind gods and the forces of nature.

As soon as the flaming sun sets, he rises from his luxurious bed and goes to the table, and sitting at that table, he plays his patient game until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, scorching hunger that burns his whole being.

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thought--bubble · 1 month

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In Need of an Heir Pt. 9

Aemond X Baratheon Reader

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 1578

In Need of an heir Masterlist

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

A/N: closing in on the end here, my friends. Thank you to all who have been reading. I completely and utterly adore you. Most likely 2 more parts. I'm still trying to decide if I want to do an epilogue as well.

Warnings:: mentions of previous attempted assault.

The night creeps by slowly after your encounter with your husband. Unable to fall back to sleep, you sit in your bed, the small dagger your brother left you sitting delicately in your lap.

You'd like to think if he came back in here now, you would gut him. Cut him to pieces for what he did. Yet, at the same time, your heart ached for him.

Surrounded by death and destruction for so long, the gravity of that must have pushed him over the edge surely? As much as you didn't like him, he had offered a list for your comfort. He had never raised a hand to you.

This was completely out of character. Unhinged. He was not to be trusted. No one here was.

The morning sun crept through the window, and you felt the dread pool in the base of your stomach.

This was the day. You would be crowned queen. Just as your father had salivated over. This should be a moment of pride. You should be thrilled to bring this type of honor to house Baratheon, yet instead, you feel sick. The gears turn in your head. It's impossible to escape the reality of your situation.

Aemond is the last male Targaryen, and now he is king. If he were to fall without an heir, the entire realm could plunge into chaos, and it would be your fault.

That would be your legacy. The barren queen. Your stomach does somersaults at the thought.

The morning is a whirlwind, maids all around you, pulling and tugging at your hair, getting you into your finest red and black dress.

The coronation would need to happen immediately, and you would once again have to come face to face with your husband.

The thought of looking him in the eye, standing close to him, potentially holding his hand after what he had done. What he tried to do, it made your body rigid. Your mind hypervigilant, but most of all, it made you mad.

You were led to the courtyard and loaded into a carriage where you rode to the dragonpit with only a maid. Your husband had yet to show you his face, alicent, either. Not even young Jaheara.

You had seen no one but your sworn protector who introduced himself to you as Sir Nox. Assigned to you specifically by your husband. It was Sir Nox who told you where you needed to be and when, and that the dowager queen and your husband would be down in the dragon pit waiting for you.

So you had done what was expected of you, and now find yourself in a carriage wobbling along to your coronation. Your husband's coronation. To be named King and Queen of the 7 kingdoms.

When you enter the dragonpit, you can see the banners have been raised, and the entirety of the knights from the keep were lined up off to the side of the raised platform.

You walk towards the platform, each click of your shoes against the stone reverberating around you. The pressure on your shoulders is overwhelming. You feel as if you are walking toward your execution instead of your coronation.

Alicent smiles at you gently as you join her on the platform silently. You clasp your hands in front of you and outwardly display a cool stoic presence, although inside you are screaming.

The chatter of common folk fills the space as they are ushered in. You can't help but look at their faces. Some excited, some annoyed, some fearful. The last time they were led in here, it was like lambs to the slaughter.

The cruelty of Rhaenys allowing her dragon to crush commoners underfoot to simply make a statement still haunted these stone walls. You had heard about it all the way back at storms' end and had felt outrage.

Each one of these people leaves their mark on the world. Even if it is small, they leave something behind, in their actions, in their loved ones.

That pressure is what you feel now as you look out upon all of these faces. They say it is the job of the king to protect and provide for his people, but in all reality that responsibility rests squarely on your shoulders, for without an Heir, these people, will once again be at the mercy of dueling dragons.

Jaheara would be contested as Heir, potentially by Rhaena's children or some dragon seed male floating about. You had no delusions that she would be able to ascend peacefully.

History would undoubtedly repeat itself, and again, how many common folks would be crushed? How many riverlanders burnt to ash? How many great houses wiped out? How many children beheaded or torn to pieces?

All that death, all that destruction. That would be what you leave behind. Bodies. Fields and fields of bodies.

You're pulled from your thoughts as the ceremony starts. Cole announcing to the space the death of King Aegon second of his name, and the ascension of King Aemond first of his name.

As soon as the words leave his lips, you see a head of silver hair moving between the two rows of knights lowering their swords as he passes.

You watch with jangled nerves, being cautious not to allow your true feelings to show in your outward expression. As the last swords fall, you brace yourself for the reunion you knew you didn't want.

As he ascends the stage, he makes eye contact with Cole, Alicent, Jaheara, but not you, his eye lowering to your feet as it passes you.

Coward. Is the only thought in your mind.

Aemond lowers himself to his knees before the high septon and is crowned before the masses to cheers.

Were they actually happy? You could only surmise they were relieved that there was no question on succession this time, and their world wouldn't once again be torn and burnt for the ego of Targaryen men.

You watch Aemond stand proud yet subdued. The perfect picture of regality.

Alicent brings a second crown to Aemond, placing it gently in his hands before turning to you and guiding you towards your husband.

Now he has no choice. He has to look at you. His eye meets yours, and he shudders. Guilt laces his face for just a moment before being replaced with pride.

You curtsy as is customary. "My queen, he says gently as he places the smaller lighter crown upon your head. You raise your head and turn toward the people as they cheer.

The feeling is surreal, and you feel lost in the sounds until you feel Aemonds slightly clammy hand slide into yours and squeeze tight.

You turn your head to look up at him in shock, the tenderness of the gesture confusing. Yet you stay silent and wait until the ceremony is complete before quickly tearing your hand from his and attempting to make a hasty exit toward the carriages.

You're immediately stopped by guards as Alicent rushes over to you.

"You leave last. Heavily guarded. You're the queen." She says hastily patting down your dress. "You'll head back in a carriage with your husband," the emphasis she uses on the word making you cringe.

Alone. In a carriage with Aemond. Quite, possibly the last place in the entire realm that you would want to be.

You purse your lips and nod as Alicent places her hand on your lower back and leads you toward a knight of whom she whispers to and then walks away.

You stand quietly beside him, your palms starting to sweat as you rub them hastily on the side of your dress.

"This way, your grace," the knight begins to lead you, and you follow. Each footstep heavier than the last, until you reach the carriage where Aemond stands outside the small door.

His crown resting beautifully upon his silver tresses, he takes your hand and helps you in and follows behind you before quickly closing the door behind him.

Your plan is to remain silent the entire trip back to the keep. Aemond's plan is very different.

"I owe you an apology," He blurts out. You hold your breath and look out the small window.

He sighs and takes one of your hands in his. "Please look at me." His voice is soft, his touch even softer.

You finally turn your head and look at him. Doing your best to maintain your cool emotionless facade.

He moves onto your side of the carriage and wraps an arm around you, bringing his face down onto your shoulder and placing a gentle kiss there.

"A man, king or not, is meant to protect his wife. Not be the cause of her suffering."

"I was so worried about not fulfilling one duty I forgot about another." He brings his hand to your cheek softly, softly stroking your heated face.

"I will not forget again. You are my queen and will be treated as your station requires." He leans in and places a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder.

Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest at the gentleness. Your brain screams at you to push him away, but your body aches to be closer.

You take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers and resting them upon your knee.

"And I will treat you as a queen should treat her husband and king"

To be added to any taglists please click HERE

#aemond x reader #ewan mitchell verse #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan nation #ewanverse #jess fics

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falling-heights · 22 days

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can i request yandere minthara baenre x dhampir bard reader?

"This music weeps , not for sin

But rather for the black fact

That we all must die ."

Everything has its price. You paid yours in full, as did she.

This union is far from conventional, but perhaps that's what makes it such an interesting case.

Two souls, both tragically wicked and dreadful.

She has never slept a single night without the fear of waking to a dagger at her throat, and you are no different, but she understands you are as helpless as she has been for much of her life. You cannot always control your hunger, but she has found ways to contain it.

A muzzle is strapped to your face at every waking moment, like a wild thing in need of being broken and trained. Shackles that bound your wrists and ankles, so you cannot lunge at her if you ever found yourself 'overwhelmed'.

She should slaughter a beast like you, your head another proud addition to her legacy of murder, but she cannot help but keep you alive. Your cravings amuse her, and she enjoys the show you put on for her when she decides to feed you some poor soul. There are times that she has waited longer, waited until you're craving blood beyond reason or morals. Hungry to the point you rip their throat open in desperation. And she revels in each act of savage violence.

Only the few times where you have been sated does she unshackle your cuffs. Only when you are your most reasonable, will she bring you your lyre, and ask you to play something. To ease her, she says. Though she's more dependent on it than she'll every say.

She can't sleep without your music. A poisonous little lullaby. Her own personal siren song.

She does not know what has caused such a strong dependence. Perhaps it comforts her. Perhaps, for a moment, it calms the vicious demands of her mind, her nightmares, her fears. How can her worries vanish the moment she hears you sing? How can its sickening sweetness be so pleasing? She may never understand it, but she knows there is no need to try.

All she needs is the sound of your fingers plucking strings and your voice soothing her into yet another deeply soundless sleep.

There is nothing, she imagined, that would ever bring her this level of satisfaction. Death could not bring her such comfort. Fear could not make her smile. It's like your music has rewritten her brain to understand new forms of peace. Of love. She protects you just as much as she keeps you. She has never met such a captivating creature, and she would burn the Sword Coast to ash and extinguish the Hells should anything happen to her bloodthirsty bard.

Hope you liked it, babe

Check out my other stuff!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 companions #minthara #yandere #yandere x reader #bg3 #yandere bg3 #dhampir #bard #yandere minthara #yandere baldur's gate 3 #bg3 minthara #minthara bg3 #minthara baenre #bg3 x reader #bg3 headcanons #yandere minthara baenre

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justalonelyslytherin · 11 months

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Legacies | Ten

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: Iceman is dead. At his funeral secrets are revealed. Hangman doesn't take this revelation too well, causing more hurt and heartbreak.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss, funeral

Wordcount: 4k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: Here it is. The big bad chapter. I hope you got your tissues ready. This was hard to write for me too. I wish I could promise that the next couple of chapters are going to make it better but I fear for now we are in the droughts before it can get better again. Feel free to slide into my asks if you need some pick-up or fluff to handle it in between the wait! There is so much more to say for this story and pairing.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

So how do I say goodbye

To someone who's been with me for my whole damn life?

You gave me my name and the color of your eyes

I see your face when I look at mine

So how do I, how do I, how do I say goodbye?

Admiral Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet was dead.

The news had come unexpectedly, surprising everyone who hadn’t been part of the late Admirals closest circle and family. Grief over the loss of their Commander had taken the Navy by surprise. Many had met the aviator and worked with him over the course of his impressive and long career.

There wasn’t a single sailor in their branch that didn’t have something good to say about the man. He’d inspired many, friends and colleagues alike to the men serving under him.

Now he was gone.

The daggers shifted uneasily in their stiff formal uniforms, arranged in a line at the front with many other servicemen on the military graveyard. A large crowd had gathered today to honor the legend.

Men and women had come flocking from every part of the US, some even from other parts of the world. And while a majority of them were in service uniforms, the uniformous dark silhouettes of civilians weren’t to be disregarded either.

Each one of them stood tall and proud, representing, their eyes remained forward as the ceremony was taking place. Maverick and Cyclone stood to the side of the casket, flanking the late Commander's family.

Jake hadn’t taken much notice of them, too occupied with standing still and occasionally also thinking about Ana. As the repeated ring of shots from the rifle detail sounded on, he couldn’t help but wonder how she was doing, certainly going through a similar ceremony saying goodbye to her father.

Once the honor guard had folded the American flag, Cyclone stepped forward to take over and represent Iceman’s widow with it. It was then that Jake’s eyes for the first time focused on her. And it was then that he noticed someone very familiar, clad in a black dress, just beside her.

It was Ana.

Red-rimmed eyes, even from this distance Hangman could see how heartbroken she was, her face barely holding the neutral expression she’d put on. The two women were holding hands, Ana clutching her mother’s hand and staring blankly at the casket.

As Cyclone stepped towards them they had to let go of one another. Ana’s eyes briefly broke away and turned to the side. She glanced at the flag only for a short moment, set to look away again. Her eyes strayed toward the crowd, and when they did they met his.

The eye contact didn’t last long but it was enough for Jake to realize who she was. He hadn’t been able to piece it together until now. A part of him hadn’t wanted to believe it to be her, but as she’d looked at him there was no denying it.

She was Kazansky’s daughter. The rumored Top Gun graduate who had changed her last name in order to hide her identity and to not be associated with her father.

Anger rose in the pit of Jake’s stomach. Fiery hot and acidic, it threatened to boil over and consume him. Disappointment settled into every cell of his, not that Jake would have been able to realize so as the anger masked any other sensation he could have felt.

Ana’s eyes widened in surprise, the recognition that had settled over him now overcoming her.

Her secret was out.

Just as quickly as they had crossed she averted her eyes but Jake couldn’t help but continue staring at her. There was nowhere else he could look at now, than at her.

She wouldn’t look toward him again.

Perhaps it was better so. Jake wasn’t sure he’d have been able to hold himself back had their eyes met once again. Even now the emotions in him boiled close to the surface still, eating away at his resolve and composure. His body was engulfed in flames.

It was an ugly sensation, rotten and tainted. He felt betrayed. Hurt and angry. So many emotions swirled inside him, he couldn’t name them all. They blurred together to form one shifting, rising monster. Its low rumbles grew louder as its sharp talons dug into him, demanding to claw its way to the surface.

It was the betrayal that hurt the most. No small measure, she’d kept something as momentous as this from them. Their teammates. Their friends. Even after being asked about it, she’d feigned ignorance.

Navy funerals were short. They were straightforward and to the point. Jake barely caught the ending of it. As the group of sailors and civilians slowly dispersed he found himself once more looking out for Ana, rooted to his spot.

“Are you coming?” Halo stood beside him with an arched brow.

“I’ll be there in a second.” Answer enough for Halo, she turned around and followed the already retreating group of their team members.

Their path led them through the rows of gravestones, toward the front of the lot where the guests were gathering, soon to split into the private mourning party for the following funeral meal and the soldiers and others who would return to work and their own lives.

But Jake couldn’t leave yet, even if he had assured Halo he’d follow. He hadn’t even looked at her during their short exchange, instead, his eyes had searched the crows for the familiar - or now not-so-familiar - person. She couldn’t have moved past him, he’d seen.

At last, his sharp eyes found her. Ana remained motionless in front of the fresh grave, inconsolably staring at the spot her father had been lowered down mere minutes ago. His final resting place was covered in fresh soil. The dark color stood in contrast with the white marble headstone and the vibrant flowers the remaining family members had placed on top of it. Flower wreaths and bouquets would follow in the next few days, crowding every available space.

The dewy grass made soft noises, scrunching under his feet as Jake stepped toward her. Mere meters away from her he was when Ana looked up. A pang of empathy erupted in his chest, painfully spreading through him, worse than any bullet wound could ever hurt. He hated seeing her this sad and crushed.

Her cheeks were wet with streaks of tears, eyes red-rimmed. A quiet sniffle carried over to him guided by the soft breeze. It ruffled her hair, carefully tucked away in a bun that showed some dignity and semblance to her usually tidy and proper, uniform glad, appearance. Wisps of hair gradually loosened now hanging down, having been pulled out through bouts of nervosity and great emotional distress, framing her face, painted an altogether different picture for him.

Any notion of commiseration was overtaken by the wave of anger crashing over Jake in an even more violent way than during the ceremony. Failing to reel his emotions in, to shove them back into the deep pit he’d had them banished mere moments ago, he lost all control over himself.

Any composure he’d had was gone and with it, his inhibitions and smart thinking had left as well. Jake would surely hate himself for it the second he’d step out of the cemetery but right now he couldn’t care less.

“You lied.” The accusation was vile, thinly concealed anger brushing at his lips, demanding to be unleashed.

“I didn’t.”

“You did. You lied to all of us.”

You lied to me

“It’s not what you think, Jake,” Ana whispered, her voice barely loud enough for the breeze to carry it.

“Oh?”, he scoffed, “Then what is it? Why do you think you didn’t lie to us? Does this not qualify as dishonesty?”

“All my life I have been the Admiral’s daughter. Kazansky’s youngest,” her own name was hard to voice out loud in this difficult time, reminding her too much of the loss. “Ever since I was little people looked at me and only saw my father’s daughter. They made it easy for me, treated me better, gave things to me just because I was who my name made me when all I always wanted was to be looked at and for them to not see my father’s daughter but me.

I wanted to just be me. Not Ana Kazansky, daughter of the famous Iceman.

Just Ana.”

There was a pause, a brief lull, in her explanation in which she looked at him with hopeful eyes. But the hostility with which he eyed her quickly had the hope wither away. She’d never seen him this distant and closed off, not even when he was fully immersed into being Hangman.

“I knew I could never prove myself and achieve something on my own if I was known as the Admiral’s daughter. Everyone would say I didn’t work hard enough to get so far, that my father’s position got me everything. I didn’t want to be labeled a fraud and be accused of illicitly getting into the Academy and Top Gun.

So I decided to become someone no one would know by taking my mother’s maiden name.

I became no one.”

What was his entitlement to judge her on a decision she’d made for her life? Long before she’d ever known him or any of the others? She did not owe anyone but her parents and herself an explanation for her choice. Had she not done it, someone would have found fault in her decision either way.

Yet it hurt much worse for Jake to be this angry about it than any other person. She didn’t give a damn about a stranger's feelings on it and frankly even her colleagues and friends, yet why did it bother her so much to see him with his jaw tightly set in tension and nose scrunched in anger.

Jake kept quiet for too long. Her words echoed in his head. He didn’t want to understand her. His anger made him irrational, refusing to see any reason or logic in it. Even if he wanted to understand her, his anger wouldn’t let him. The monster that had grown deep inside him forbade him from doing so. It wouldn’t let him back down.

“And you think that makes a difference? You still deceived us.”

He forced himself to turn around without another word. One foot in front of another, mechanically he marched away from her. No, not entirely.

Two more graves lay between them when he turned around once more. The small, fiercely fighting part of his good conscience had lost against the bitter, petty monster that was his hurt, his betrayed feelings, his anger.

“I suppose you won’t come back to finish the mission. Better like that anyway. We don’t need someone we don’t actually know in the air with us. We need someone we can trust.”

Ana watched him turn around, letting her stand there. He marched briskly, calculated steps carrying him through the narrow rows of graves toward the front of the cemetery.

All she could do was stare at the hat-clad back of his head and his tense, impossibly tight squared shoulder. Mind left reeling it felt like with his retreat he’d pulled the earth beneath her feet, plucking her into a dark, endless descent.

First, it were her lips that trembled as fresh tears misted over her eyes, then her hands, and soon her legs followed. Ana felt the world coming down around her, its weight ready to crush her. Was she not already crushed? The loss of her father had felt like the worst pain she’d ever felt. A hole where her heart had been, she was sure it had been laid beneath the ground with his human remains.

Why then were it Hangman’s words that ultimately brought her to her knees? All strength drained from her limbs, her knees buckling beneath her as she slowly sank down. Down, down, down until she crouched there, head hung, arms wrapped around herself in a feeble attempt for comfort. The endless waterfall of tears dripped onto her knees, wetting the dark fabric of her dress.

Rooster clenched his fists beside his body, teeth churning as he watched her crumble to the ground. All because of him. Hangman.

Unbeknownst to either of them he had watched their exchange from the distance that was the gravelly front of the graveyard. The attendees of the funeral all gathered there now.

As Hangman reached the group that was the Daggers everything in him screamed to intercept his path. To knock the arrogant bastard onto his ass and punch a couple of his perfect white molars out.

Even if Rooster had had his own differences and fights with Ana, she was still as close to a little sister as he could have and no one - but especially not Hangman - got to hurt her like that. Not when she was already hurting enough. He wanted to look out for her, albeit punching the blonde menace and causing a scene now weren’t the best way to do it.

So instead he glowered at him, a death glare as strongly as Rooster could muster it, and in that he was a master. Hangman breezed past him and most of the rest of the group for that. The gravel under his feet crunched. While the others didn’t understand what was going on, they took the blonde’s initiative to also leave.

“Rooster, you coming?” Phoenix stepped beside him. Her eyes briefly went to the opposite side of the yard, where the private funeral party had gathered. The Kazansky’s. Maverick.

“Go on without me. I’ve got a ride back.”

Phoenix eyed him a moment longer than necessary, gauging his words before she nodded. They’d all come to the graveyard together, shuttled by a navy bus. Her hand briefly landed on his shoulder, squeezing him before she turned around, joining the rest of them on their way back to the bus.

Straightening his back Bradley walked over to the people he considered his extended family. Many of the familiar faces acknowledged him with small nods or waves and the more or less successful try of a smile mustered. He walked past most of them after a polite nod, aiming straight for his aunt Sarah.

Outwardly she seemed composed, her face embellished in the same stubborn mask Ana had worn during the procession. As he pulled her into a hug her composure grumbled and he felt her slump against him, softly crying. Bradley muttered his condolences into her ear, holding her tightly against him.

He knew best how it was to lose someone important. They’d been there for him after he’d lost his father and their presence had been even stronger when he’d lost his mother to sickness and Maverick to betrayal. There wasn’t one moment in his life in which he remembered the Kazansky’s not being there for him. It was time to give some of this unwavering support back in this dire moment of need and hurt.

It took Ana a long while to calm down enough so she could stand up again. Even then her legs still trembled. It took her even longer to be ready to move. When she was, she felt still rattled, as if the glue that was holding her had come undone.

Hands clenched at her sides and her head turned downwards toward the grass beneath her feet, she was walking quickly. Bouts of electricity shot through her, one after the other feeling like she was shocked by an outside source.

The cemetery was mostly empty now, safe for her family. Before she could reach them another person stepped into her path. Her eyes traveled from the shined shoes, upward the crisp black pants toward the face she least expected to see.

Bradley stood across from her, the rest of the Daggers nowhere to see. A fact she was rather grateful for at the moment. Still, the sight of him put her on edge. She wouldn’t be able to handle it if Bradley were to treat her with hostility now as well.

To her big surprise, there was no harshness, no cold distance in his eyes. Not like the last time he had looked at her. Ever since their talk on the tarmac, he’d kept his distance from her. Either outright ignoring or avoiding.

Entirely opposite now Bradley eyed her with warmth and compassion. He walked over to her, with every step he came closer Ana felt herself start to tremble again. By the time he reached her, her lips wobbled dangerously, eyes once more watery.

“Bradley,” she whimpered, falling into his arms as he enveloped her. Damned be the navy regulations on uniforms, she didn’t care as her hands clawed into the fabric of his jacket, holding on for dear life.

“Shh, Teds,” she heard him rumble, a strong and warm hand rubbing soothingly over her back.

“Do you think I was out of line not telling the team who Dad was?”

Doubts had started to gnaw at her the moment Hangman had accused her of it. She’d never seen it as lying to them, as being deceiving. What would that information have changed about her ability to fly the mission? What would have changed about her hard work?

Bradley pushed her back enough to be able to look into her tear-stained face. She looked miserable. Broken.

Another wave of anger washed over him, silently cursing Hangman for causing this. Not long ago he had accused her of the same thing. In his anger over the situation and the close proximity with Maverick, he had misled and directed his anger toward her.

“No, you weren’t.” Reaching out he wiped away her tears and made sure she looked at him, that she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

“You did what was right for you, what was the right decision for you. You chose to do this long before any of them knew you. You didn’t do it to deceive anyone did you?”

She shook her head, sniffling quietly.

“It is understandable that you didn’t want to be reduced to your familial connections or last name. No one can blame you for the choice you made to be yourself.” Bradley watched her lips tremble once more, eyes glossing over as new tears threatened to fall. Once more he pulled her into his embrace.

“You earned it. Every single thing you earned on your own. Your place at the Academy, graduating as one of their best students. You became a naval aviator. You got into Top Gun and graduated first place. That’s all your doing. You did that, all on your own and no one can take this from you.

On top of that you are an amazing person. Sure you are a great pilot but you are an even greater friend. Doesn’t matter if you are Ana Lawson or Ana Kazansky. The name doesn’t change who you are at your core. Anyone who can’t see and accept that isn’t worth it.”

Hangman wasn’t worth it. If that arrogant bastard couldn’t see who she was but more importantly who she was no matter her last name, then he didn’t deserve to be even in the same city as her.

Bradley didn’t want to pour more salt into the already irritated wound so he kept quiet about the blonde. Instead, he let her cry against his shoulder, the same way not long ago her mother had done so. If this was how he could help them, he’d let them soak every shirt he owned with their tears.

After a long silence in which Ana’s sobs had gradually lessened, she lifted her head off his shoulder. Her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks wet, hair even more mussed up. Softly Bradley brushed a piece of hair behind her ear before his hand at her back carefully guided her to the parking lot.

Ana stopped in her steps, refusing to move as she saw the practically empty lot. There weren’t any people to be seen. Where was her mother? Where were her siblings? Panic settled over her as her eyes frantically began to search the place up and down, and then a second time. But still, no one had remained.

“Where are they?” There was a panicked hitch in her voice. They hadn’t left them, her, had they? They wouldn’t have done that? Had she lost them now too?

“Hey, Teds, take a breath for me.” Bradley once more stepped in front of her, his hands settled on her shoulders, softly but firmly grabbing her there. He was keeping her from hyperventilating, from outright panicking.

“I told them to go ahead to the house and that I would bring you two back.”

“Uncle Ron,” Ana breathed, her voice filling with emotion once more. She sidestepped Bradley, walking straight into the opened arms of Slider.

“Heya little chip.” The old nickname had her chuckle wetly and sniffle as she hugged him tightly. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, similarly to Maverick. She’d missed him just as much. Up and down Slider’s hand rubbed over her back in a comforting way.

“I’m there for you Teddy. Always. If you need something, don’t hesitate to call me.” Ana nodded against her uncle’s chest. He’d always been her hero. Slider had never not been anything but utterly devoted to her and her siblings.

“I promised your dad I’d look after you if anything were to happen ever and I’m planning to uphold this promise. If I have to, I'll cross the entire planet for it.”

Her heart warmed at this, the sensation was so strong it even overshadowed the pang of grief.

“Alright, now you two will get your asses into my car. Your mother will lynch me if we take too long.”

Water gurgled as it filled the vase. Droplets of it escaped the crystalline brim, traveling down the outer edge of the vessel and ran over Ana’s fingers. The cold sensation stood in contrast to everything else. Over the course of the day she had gradually numbed down, drowning noises alike out.

As the water overflowed she glanced down at the tap, shutting it off. Some of the water she emptied again before she placed the vase on the counter beside her, where one bouquet of the many flowers they’d gotten laid.

The big table in the dining room and the kitchen table were littered with them and stacks of condolence cards. It was overwhelming. As the flower slid into the vase, their stems submerging into the water, her mind drifted off once more.

Sighing heavily, she ultimately placed her hands down and let her head hang low.

“Mum?” The word left her lips hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to utter the words, even less so to hear the answer. Her lips were dry and her throat tight. “Did I make a mistake?” Her shoulders started to shake, a sniffle leaving her lips.

“Did I make a mistake hiding my identity in the Navy? Did I–” She choked.

“–did I hurt Dad with my decision?” Close to breaking down at the thought of it, Ana heard the kitchen chair behind her scrape over the floor. Then her mother's arms were around her, Sarah hugging her from the side.

“Oh sweetheart, no. You didn’t make a mistake. You chose what was right.”

“Was it though?”

“Teddy, look at me,” Sarah softly asked, wiping the tear off her cheek. “Your father understood you. More than you believe.”

“You resemble him in so many ways,” sadness overcame her mother’s features as she looked at her, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are so alike, he was exactly the same when he was your age. Wanted to prove himself and make it on his own. There was never a moment in which he wasn’t proud of you and standing fully behind your every decision.”

Looking at her mother with tear-streaked cheeks and heaving shoulders Ana couldn’t help but sob again. It felt like crying was the only thing she had done ever since.

“I miss him, Mom,” she whimpered, hiding her face on her mother’s shoulder.

“I do too, my sweet little girl.

He is looking down on us from above now. Watching out for us. Don’t ever think he won’t be there with you, for you.”

#legacies #hangman x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman x reader #jake seresin x kazansky!oc #jake seresin x kazansky!reader #hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #top gun maverick fanfiction

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buckybarnesb-tch · 6 months

Text

Klaus Mikaelson Playlist

Werewolf-Motionless in White

Bad Moon Rising-Mourning Ritual

Game of Survival-Ruelle

Believer-Imagine Dragons

Ribcage-Andy Black

Kill of the Night-Gin Wigmore

Bodies-Drowning Pool

Last Resort-Papa Roach

Centuries-Fall Out Boy

Start A Fire-Ryan Star

Sink or Swim-Falling in Reverse

Why Worry-Set it Off

Immortals-Fall Out Boy

Just Pretend-Bad Omens

Seven Devils-Florence + the Machine

Legends are Made-Sam Tinnesz

Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time-P!@tD

Beaten in Lips-Beartooth

Things We Lost in the Fire-Bastille

bad guy-Billie Eilish

Brother-Kodaline

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing-Set it Off

You Should See Me in a Crown-Billie Eilish

Big Bad Wolf-In This Moment

Heathens-21 Pilots

I Will Not Bow-Breaking Benjamin

Killer in the Mirror-Set it Off

My Life-Billy Joel

Howl-Florence + the Machine

Victorious-P!@tD

Evil Angel-Breaking Benjamin

Feel Invincible-Skillet

Raised By Wolves-Falling In Reverse

Throne-Bring Me the Horizon

Untouchable-Motionless in White

I Told You I Was Mean-Elle King

Like a Villain-Bad Omens

Demons-Imagine Dragons

Broken-lovelytheband

Angel Eyes-New Years Day

Emperors New Clothes-P!@tD

Criminal-Britney Spears

Soft-Motionless in White

Popular Monster-Falling in Reverse

Messed Up-Once Monsters/Chloe Adams

Been to Hell-Hollywood Undead

Someone to You-BANNERS

Natural-Imagine Dragons

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND-Bad Omens

The Devil Within-Digital Daggers

Monsters-Ruelle

Animal I Have Become-Three Days Grace

That’s What I Like-Bruno Mars

I’m So Sorry-Imagine Dragons

Fuck Away the Pain-Divide the Day

Born for Greatness-Papa Roach

Young God-Halsey

Just Like You-Falling in Reverse

Paint it Black-Ciara

The Resistance-Skillet

Hell Above-Pierce the Veil

Judas-Fozzy

Legacy-Motionless in White

Monster-STARSET

Come with Me Now-KONGOS

Sarcasm-Get Scared

Bad Mother Fucker-MGK

Whatever it Takes-Imagine Dragons

S.O.S-The Glorious Sons

In The End-LINKIN PARK

Masterpiece-Motionless in White

Human-Rag’n’Bone Man

In the End-Black Veil Brides

Dead Hearts-Stars

Monster-Reckless Love

Blood//Water-grandson

Born for This-The Score

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issillage · 8 months

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Childe x Y/n

“Is it possible to restore the shine of dead eyes?”

“1...2...5...” - a kid’s voice counted to ten so that he would open his eyes and see what kind of surprise his beloved brother had prepared for him.

You looked anxiously at Teucer, then at Childe, who’s being attacked by several huge, mechanical Ruin Drake. The sound of machinery and their heavy, loud footsteps echoed throughout Dottore's abandoned laboratory.

“Give me another ten seconds, Teucer...” - Said Tartaglia and met your gaze for an imaginary second.

The water was quickly replaced with electric charge by using delusion that denigrating his already impure heart. The tall figure of the man became even taller while lean body now seemed unnaturally muscular and handsome face was hidden behind a red mask.

Have you ever wondered what Tartaglia is like without a mask? Even if he’s not in the four legacy form, he wears a facade that hides not only intentions and the blackness of his soul, but a small child beaten by life that gave him to the bottomless abyss.

Before you could blink, the mechanical monsters fell to the ground with a prolonged sound — signaling that the gift for Teucer is ready.

“9….10! I'm opening my eyes, this time for sure!” - Teucer removed his hands from his face and joyfully ran towards the mechanical ruins. “Wow, a lot of Mr. Cyclops! My bro the best! The best toy seller in the world!"

If Tartaglia had been a seller, he’d have been selling sharp daggers or numerous stolen women's hearts, not toys. But, today you’re an accomplice in this performance, where Childe is a caring brother — not a bloodthirsty harbinger.

While Teucer was excitedly playing with toys, you looked around to find a hint of the presence of ‘Toy Seller’, who disappeared immediately after the score reached ten.

Going a little further, behind the iron wall, you heard a quiet, male groan. Walking towards the sound, a wounded Harbinger stuck to your gaze, sitting on the ground and holding his side, where blood is similar to red paint on a canvas. His breathing was labored, a couple of drops of sweat were dripping from his forehead down his manly cheekbones.

“Huh, I'm not in the best shape after using four legacy. But I'm fine, y/n, i’ve been worse.”

Of course, this has its price. It’s pox that may one day consume him completely, but blind loyalty to his homeland is stronger than fear.

Childe reached out and grabbed your wrist, forcing you to sit on his lap. He didn't care about your protests or attempts to escape — only squeezed your hips from both sides and burying himself in your neck.

“…I'm sorry. This is the first time someone's around when I'm in this state... not counting the doctors, of course.” - His voice trembled slightly, whether it was from external or internal wounds, no one knew. He inhaled your fragrance and ran his nose over the delicate skin of neck, raised one hand from your hips to your hair.

Tartaglia has always been alone, when his body is covered with cuts and his heart with arrows. Let him enjoy someone's presence a little. After all, before you is not the 11th harbinger, but the one who was once Ajax, whose eyes sparkled before falling into abyss.

“Just for now, sit on this evil-harbinger for a little longer.”

That's him, the ‘toy seller’ Childe. He has a wide range of products — from bloody extermination, to passionate and tender love.

What product do you want to buy, Y/n?

(It’s not going to be a bot. It seems to me that this is relevant only for such a sketch rather than for a full-fledged ai.)

art cr : jn6509040

#y/n #fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #childe #tartaglia #fatui harbingers #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin x y/n #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x reader

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bdbmemes · 1 year

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Does anyone else feel depressed after Lassiter book?

#black dagger brotherhood #black dagger legacy #bdb #jr ward #saxton #ruhn #meme #lassiter #vishous #butch #wrath #phury #qhuinn #blay #john matthews

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bdb-fandom · 2 months

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do you think that vampire doja sings female, female, female?

#black dagger brotherhood #the black dagger brotherhood #black dagger legacy #rhage #wrath

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iamyouknow-yours · 6 months

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Marcel is a Mikaelson. He does not have to call himself a Mikaelson as he is fully within his rights to denounce the very toxic family but he is one.

I hate the way the show treated him, I hate the way the characters treated him, and I hate that he is involved with Rebekah. I hate the way he and Hope are only kinda sorta siblings.

1. The show:

So we know Julie Plec is very much a white liberal. We know this. We know she has sexism issues, we know she has racism issues (black women will save us all, really Julie????). I don't know which of her multitude of biases made her (and the rest of the writers) think that the way they wrote Marcel and the Mikaelson's relationships with him, was normal (or like normal in the context of the show). But boy howdy.

The plantation house. We're just going to have the Mikaelsons move into the house where Marcel was owned as a slave????? That's what we're gonna do?????? And where his abusive biological father lived and y'know, abused him. Fucking what the fuck?? I feel like this just epitomises the way the show treats Marcel.

2. The characters:

The family never treats him as part of the family unless they want something from him.

They did not raise him as a son and it is weird and terrible and he was a child!!!!! Why did you adopt him if you didn't want a child???

Why is Klaus so scared of having Hope if he's already had a child?

Why does Klaus treat Marcel the exact same way Mikael treated him just because they're not blood related?? (if they actually explored this it could have been interesting but no they just only half treat Marcel as a Mikaelson).

YOU'RE TELLING ME THEY DIDN'T CHECK?? THEY DIDN'T CHECK HE WAS DEAD????? Not once in the 80+ years did Klaus or Elijah go back to New Orleans or even send someone to fucking check that his SON was really dead??? Didn't think to do that???? No???

3. Rebekah:

Oh my god what do I even say about Rebekah?

They could have at least made her be daggered for the time when he was a child and only meet him when he was already an adult and a vampire because that way she's only technically his aunt and not a full fucking adult who saw him grow up!!!!!!!!

Hope:

Idk man, they were siblings. Let them be siblings. The whole thing in Legacies where the Mikaelsons just kind of left Hope alone? Weird. Bonkers. Batshit. I know it's because they couldn't get the actors but maybe think about that before writing your fucking show my guy.

Or in TO where Hope was just left alone and Klaus was not there as a dad for like 5(?) years.

Hayley was the only good parent on The Originals or Legacies canon, fight me.

(side note, you're telling me Caroline would leave Alaric, Alaric, an alcoholic, vampire-hating, weirdo (Caroline and Alaric being romantically involved briefly WAS WEIRD GUYS, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HE USED TO BE HER FUCKING TEACHER) in charge of the school for supernatural children??

You're telling me she left him in charge of parenting Lizzie and Josie?? Yeah okay sure.

And look how well that turned out. Locking teenagers in goddamn prison worlds, excellent headmastering there Alaric well done. And just swell parenting of the twins. Favouring Hope over them at all times and letting them bully each other weirdly for years and allowing your mentally ill children to just get more mentally ill from your parenting. Great moves. Very good.

Okay Legacies rant over)

Yeah okay my whole rant is over I think.

TL;DR: Marcel deserved better.

(and so did the kids on Legacies.)

Also PSA, the only reason I have so many feelings about this is because I like the freaking shows okay? I like the characters (except Alaric and Damon and the ones we're supposed to dislike like Mikael and Esther).

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blog-sliverofjade · 2 years

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Marissa: I thought you said you wouldn’t tell a soul!

Butch: Yeah, that’s why I told Vishous. He doesn’t have a soul!

Vishous: He’s not wrong.

#Black Dagger Brotherhood #jr ward #vishous #Butch O'Neal #Marissa #black dagger legacy #Incorrect Quotes

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yns-world · 2 years

Note

hi heart <3

I hope you are having a good day/night :) if you have time I want to request dialogues intros from Erron Black, Kano, Kotal Kahn, Shao Kahn and Rain with their son from the future who looks like them but has the personality of his mother( as if the reader were sarcastic, arrogant and rejected them all the time saying things like that she would never be with them that she doesn't like them and things like that and boom they meet their son who comes from the future).

Thank you very much in advance for your time and for writing such wonderful things <3 your posts are simply incredible :^ you are without a doubt one of my favorite writers <3

a/n: you're too kind 😭😭 you guys are so sweet and it makes me so happy to know that y'all enjoy this <333

i don’t take intro requests anymore but this was requested a week ago and i’ve been wanting to write this because i love the concept so much :)

MK Characters Meeting Their Future Son

Characters: Erron Black, Kano, Kotal Kahn, Shao Kahn, Rain

Y/S/N = Your son’s name

Erron Black: “Y/S/N, is it?”

Y/S/N: “Keep my name out of your filthy mouth.”

Erron Black: “You’re forgetting who you’re speaking to, partner.”

Y/S/N: “Great. I’ve found the hillbilly.”

Erron Black: "Hillbilly blood runs in your veins."

Y/S/N: “You don’t know how much I hate being remotely associated with you.”

Erron Black: “What kind of a mother harbors this much hate in a child?”

Y/S/N: “This hate wasn’t her doing, that was all you.”

Kano: “Ain’t no way you’re my child, I pulled out!”

Y/S/N: He rolls his eyes. “Real classy.”

Kano: He winks. “Just like how the ladies love ‘em.”

Kano: “You’re a fine looking fella, we could definitely use a lot of ya in the Black Dragon.”

Y/S/N: “I’m nothing like your third-rate gang.”

Kano: “Oh, but ya is. You’re my flesh and blood.”

Kano: He smirks. “How’s your mother doing?”

Y/S/N: “She’s counting on me to kill you. I never disappoint.”

Kano: “It’s gonna break her poor heart to find her son’s head at her doorstep.”

Kotal Kahn: “The heavens have blessed Y/N and I with the birth of you.”

Y/S/N: “You had no part in the blessing.”

Kotal Kahn: “You are of my seed, I’ve had just as much part as did your mother.”

Y/S/N: “The only thing you did was treat her like a whore and left her to fend for herself. I am of her creation.”

Y/S/N: He scoffs. “So the rumors are true.”

Kotal Kahn: “What rumors?”

Y/S/N: “That the sun god had his ass handed to him by some lowlife gangster.”

Y/S/N: “Does Jade know?”

Kotal Kahn: “There's nothing to tell.”

Y/S/N: “I guess I'll introduce myself after I kill you.”

Shao Kahn: He barks with laughter. “A son! Who knew Y/N would finally prove herself useful for once!”

Y/S/N: “You can rest easy knowing that I won’t fail like your daughters.”

Shao Kahn: “Fail at what?”

Y/S/N: “That I won’t fail to kill you here and now.”

Shao Kahn: “Your Tarkatan blood runs deep, child!”

Y/S/N: “It’s a shame your legacy ends here.”

Y/S/N: “You were always a monster.”

Shao Kahn: He smirks. “But your mother ran to me like how Red Riding Hood ran to the Big Bad Wolf.”

Y/S/N: “You forgot the part of the story where the wolf dies.”

Rain: “Do the gods deceive me?”

Y/S/N: “Not as much as you deceived my mother.”

Rain: He smirks, amused. “Ah, you’re Y/N’s boy. You carry her silver tongue.”

Y/S/N: His grip on his dagger tightens. “And I carry her hatred for you.”

Y/S/N: “You’re nothing but an egotistical bastard.”

Rain: “Ironic coming from you, no?”

Rain: “It’s good to know that my godhood passed down.”

Y/S/N: “Your pride will be the death of you.”

Rain: “Not before it kills you first.”

a/n: if you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging :) that helps my account more than likes <3

tipping also helps a lot!! any amount is much appreciated <3

i’m also considering writing commissions but i want to know what y’all think about that.

as always, check my pinned post for request rules and i hope y’all have a great day!!

i’ll catch y’all in the next post ;)

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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AverageWriter-InTheDark’s Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Link to my other Masterlists

Key: 🤍 - Personal favs, ♥️ - popular works, 📝 - series in progress, 💌 - series completed, ⏳- coming soon, 🧸 - OC not y/n, 📨 - requested works (currently open) rules for requests

Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Series

Living Up To The ‘Legacy’ 🧸🤍♥️💌

Imagines:

The Parent Trap 🤍♥️

Lover 📨♥️

My Heart Will Go On | Titanic AU 🤍♥️

Headcanon:

Rooster’s Ballerina ♥️

Social Media au (goes with series/imagines):⏳

Her Lover

Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Imagines:

She’s Still Preoccupied With 1985 🤍♥️

Got Ink? 📨♥️

Headcanons:

SFW Alphabet

In The Name Of Love

Social Media au (goes with series/imagines):

Queen of the Uneven Bars (FHOTB)

The 1985s

Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Imagines:

I Want My MTV 📨♥️

Barbie Girl 📨🤍♥️

Time of Our Lives | Dirty Dancing AU 📨🤍

Now That We Don’t Talk

Headcanons:

SFW Alphabet

Social media au:

The High Note Princess (IWMM)

Y/n Likes The Snow

Lt. Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Imagines:

Love Rises From The Ashes 📨

Headcanons:

Fluffy headcanons

Social Media AUs:

Resident Bad Boy ⏳

Lt. Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Imagines:

His Reason to Fanboy 📨

Headcanons:

On The Floor

Lt. Javy “Coyote” Machado

Imagines:

Hollywood’s Angel 📨

Headcanons:

Fluff headcanons

Social Media AUs

Surf n Turf

Lt. Ruben ‘Payback’ Fitch

Headcanons:

Different Type of Runway | Model!reader

Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell

Series

Living Up To The ‘Legacy’ (daughter!OC)🧸🤍♥️💌

Always The One 🧸⏳

Imagines:

It’s A Long Way To The Top 🤍♥️

The Rockstar, Her Husband, & Their Dagger Ducklings

Daughter of Rock N Roll 📨

Strut Like You Mean It 📨

The Doc is In 📨

Social Media au (goes with series/imagines)

Y/n & The Romantics (IALWTTT)

Multiple Characters

Imagines:

Bigger Than The Whole Sky 🤍♥️

Parabellum | John Wick AU 🤍

When It’s Cold, I’d Like To Die

Before He Cheats 📨

They Did The Monster Mash

Athlete!reader inserts:

For The Gold | Track & Field | Hangman pairing 🤍♥️

Flying High…On The Bars P.2 | Gymnastics | Bob pairing🤍♥️

Winging It | Soccer | Fanboy pairing ⏳

You’re My Grand Slam | Tennis | Phoenix pairing ⏳

Spike It Baby | Beach Volleyball | Coyote Pairing ⏳

Queen Of The Halfpipe | Snowboarder | Hangman pairing 📨♥️

Formula To My Heart | F1 Diver | Maverick pairing 📨

Ridin’ The Waves | Surfing | Coyote Pairing 📨

Dribbling for Love | Basketball | Payback Pairing ⏳

Headcanons:

The Dagger Squad Takes Universal Studios 🤍

Dagger Baby ♥️

The Dagger Squad as the Great Houses of Westeros

It’s Snuggle Time 📨

Last updated: 30 October 23

………….

Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa, @artemissunn, @pinkpantheris, @kmc1989

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