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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 6 months

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And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway.

Hope y’all enjoy! <3

Too Late I’m Dead

AO3 link: Here

Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Word count: 5,160

Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

#ace writes #sfbf23 #amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw #notsft #not totally satisfied with how this turned out but fuck it we ball

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andsjuliet · 10 months

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nancy drew parallels

the ransom of the forsaken soul (3x01) ⇾ the danger of the hopeful sigil (4x03)

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universaln0b0dy · 5 months

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Bully twist au v.s reader untouchable

《Summary 》: You are willing to end things with NCR once and for all. But will you really defeat them? You are just some prefect with no magic right?

You felt like puking, just the thought of maybe having to return to NCR gave you a stomach age. You really didn't want to, but Crowley kinda forced you, since the school was kinda on fire with out you controlling the students.

"Hey, you aren't going there alone." Your friend says, offering you a kind smile, holding up her guitar. Neige stood beside you, with a slight smile on his face.

"We are prepared. Amanda made sure you will get in safely and I can get my final revenge on Vil and my stalker." The petit boy says. It was surprising just how he managed to plot a murder looking like a baby puppy. Amanda's words, not yours.

"Of course I did! We shared fan fic tags, we are basically married!" She says leaning into your face teasingly before booping your nose. She looks back at Neige. "Isn't that right monster fucker?"

You giggle, starting to laugh. "Yup, you are never getting rid of us!"

Amanda binds her hair into a low ponytail before tugging at her clothes. She looked like a business woman.

"Are ya ready to go? If we're late we going ta ruin the suprise, wouldn't want that wood ya?" Amanda's accent sounded everything but like that of a cowboy, but that mayde ths whole thing funnier, especially when she would probably talk the whole time like this.

"Yup! Ready as I'll ever be!"

You sat down in the carriage that had been send to pick you up, personally by Crowley. Amanda rode by you on a horse. It was a pretty black horse and she looked like a queen on it. Neige was of course also somewhere but he probably was hidden better.

You can't help but chuckle to yourself. Over the past month Amanda had been helping you with making sure you would get your revenge and helped you incredibly much with finding a portal back to your home world.

She had gone further with her studying in two weeks than Crowley in almost a year. You sigh, looking at your phone.

Neige had also become an important part of your life and acting like his girlfriend had it perks. Though you had to gag mentally every time you remembered that the both of you acted like a sob story online.

The carriage comes to a halt and you see the Night raven college in all its glory and you try to get rid of the lump in your throat as you step out. Amanda steps down from the horse next to you and offers you her hand.

You take it, squeezing it. She simply let's you do that, acting like she wasn't noticing it. But she let her thumb run over your palm soothingly.

"There you are!" Crowley says opening his arms. "Welcome back, we have lots of things to do!" He seemed to expect you to go back to him, to stand by his side, but you stay glued to Amanda.

"Prefect."

You recognised his tone. The same tone he used to threaten you, with less food, less money or even worse threatening to throw you out of the school.

"No. I won't be coming back. I will pay of my debt, but I won't be coming back."

Crowley seems to go quiet, his eyes widening in suprise before he starts to growl.

"Who do you think you are you wretched magicless-" he cough, pretending to smile. "I mean respected member of our school."

Amanda had slowly pushed you behind her back. Her brows furrowed, she would probably have an anger outburst if he continued. You wanted to sooth the situation, well for now, you wanted to ask Grim were he would like to stay and get your stuff. After that chaos would be okay.

"I am just here to get my stuff. The money you need will be transferred to your account. " You yell, glad that Amanda was supporting you in this situation.

But before you can go do anything a person walks up to the NRC gates.

"Herbivore?" Leona stares at you, his eyes twitching as of he was on high alert. The new glasses he had to wear didn't suit him. He seemed wary of you.

"Yes. Kingscholar, it's me." He was scared, you could tell, the way he backed away as soon as he could tell it was you. Would Floyd be scared of you like that too? You hoped so.

The fear he has gets replaced by a wobbly smirk, the edges of it twitching.

"Huh? Came back after realising you didn't have anywhere to go!" He tries to humiliate or even hurt you. You smile at him kindly, catching him of guard.

"Oh no. I found a new place to stay in. I would just like to pick up some stuff." And you walk past him.

NRC has changed. The weather is bad, green thunder everywhere and collared students running around in fear, but no Riddle or Malleus.

You walk into the school straight to the mirror chamber, ignoring the students you walk past. Amanda is always right next to you, closely watching in order to make sure no one would attack you.

You notice a student with a bruised face, his make up is smudged. It's Carter, the person you ruined the reputation of, the same goes for Azul. You didn't see him, but you just knew it.

The most mirrors are smashed, though it didn't matter just as long as you could get Grim out of there. For the first time you are here in this school you feel powerful, the pain and the fear that lingers in the air is boosting your confidence.

The only thing that didn't change is Ramshackle. You open the door, looking around. Grim pounced at you hugging you in the process. He cried loudly almost choking you in the process. He of course was informed on your were abouts, but he wasn't sure if you could keep your promise.

"Well Grim, you have the choice! Either-"

"I am going to go with you, Henchman!"

You were surprised by the fact that Grim didn't even listen to the other offer, but you were relieved after all leaving Grim here on his own would make you feel horrible.

---

You are about to leave NRC, but a thunder flash, crashing right into the floor in front of you stops you. Malleus was here.

The only person you truly feared out of them all was him. He was like a child, throwing a tantrum but with thunders.

He was strong and he could probably just get rid of you, but you had build a wall between you and them. Not even Ace and Deuce would be able to call you back now.

No manipulative Kalim, No Vil humiliating you, no Azul, no Trey, no Floyd. No more pain.

Amanda had put a hand on your shoulder squeezing it supportingly. You decide that you would directly at Malleus, your eyes having a quiet threat in them. He shouldn't dare to touch you. He was taken aback and you look at Amanda. Who had started to pull out her guitar.

"Don't try to stop me." You mutter, grinning. Sebek of course comes charging at you, but simply with a look of your eyes you tell Amanda to use her unique magic. She does so, making Sebek dance.

With that you leave, being greeted by Neige.

You smile a bit driving back to RSA, and for the first time in your life you feel untouchable.

Well this is the end of season one of Bully twist au v.s reader! I am officially opening an question and answers so ask questions! Of course you can also request ideas for oneshots! (But romance only between: Amanda, Neige, Reader. Do with that information what you like-) I hope I will see you in season 2 -Uni

Also @danika-redgrave124 thank you for being do active with this story!

#bully twist au v.s reader #twisted wonderland #x reader #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #azul ashengrotto #deuce spade #floyd leech #amanda slim #neige leblanche

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minimorgana · 7 months

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More Ace ramblings but this time from his pov (ish)

Ace thought he knew what love was. He’d become so familiar with that particular feeling, having thought he was the type of person to fall easily.

He thought he knew what love was. He thought he’d been in love.

There was Laura, a summer fling, but to him, maybe something more. He couldn’t help but fall for her mischievous smile and confident nature—so opposite from himself. And then she’d left. But she came back and he found himself there again, easily falling into what he assumed was love. He’d been enamored, taken by her spell, but that’s not love, is it? So he’d said no to her offer of Paris, knowing he couldn’t do it. Not when he didn’t love her. Not when he knew he loved Horseshoe Bay.

There was Bess, but even at the height of his crush, Ace knew he didn’t love her. But he thought he could easily love her. He knew if he ever got a chance with her, he’d fall, and fall hard. And he was right, in a sense. Because he did love Bess, but it wasn’t a romantic love.

Amanda was someone he really thought he loved. He was giddy at the sight of her, nervous, really, and when she’d reciprocated his feelings, he’d been ecstatic. This was it. This was love, what he’d been waiting for. But then they went on their road-trip and something immediately felt off, like something was missing, like he’d forgotten a piece of himself. But he still thought he loved her—he wanted to love her. And he tried, he really did. He helped her dad, tried to do the right thing, and it had cost him. He’d thought that was love, but he’d only gotten hurt. He knew that maybe with more time, with different circumstances, with certain people removed, he would get to love her. But they didn’t get that time.

Ace thought he knew what love was. He thought it was the quick fall, the exhilaration of feelings, of desire, and the simple want to love and be loved. Because that’s really what it came down to. Ace wanted to love someone.

And he did. It just was not what he expected. Because for Ace, love was slow, a strong bond built over time. It was the connection of minds, the desire to always be by someone’s side, the feeling of completeness and peace in their presence, even when the world was otherwise going to shit. Love was almost invisible, if only because it felt so natural.

Ace thought he knew what love was, but he didn’t, not until he finally understood that he was in love with Nancy Drew.

#ace hardy #ace nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy drew #nace #nancy drew x ace #I do really think ace wanted to love Amanda and maybe even already did #but in a different way than he loves Nancy

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hucklebucket · 2 years

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other people + nace

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mirchoff · 1 month

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nancy and ace in 2x09 teasing each other about gill and amanda and the navy blue pullover while literally flirting with each other is peak nace delusion

#the way she pulls on it??? you want to jump in his pants #yes i’m Still on s2 please do not remind me of it okay i’m chugging along #and trying to read some fics and engage with material without finding out more spoilers #but That scene… whew #i will be writing a fic starter about their museum date btw because also What Was That #knowing nace is endgame and i’m still not focusing on them as much as i should #because they aren’t at That point yet but i should be having the goggles on #nancy drew #nace #ace hardy #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #also deleted my ace gifs cuz they sucked ass…. is this fandom that desperate for content jshdjsdhd #anyway i like amanda now tbh i had no feelings towards her before this episode #ACE SAYING HES BLOOMING LIKE A FLOWER OR WHATEVER???? THATS BABY BOY!!!!

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lovesick-jester-from-hell · 4 months

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Amanda Young x Ace McKenzie (self-ship)

“What if it happens again?” The words came out weaker than I’d have liked them too. More scared. Her thumbs brushed against my palms, against the pale mangled scars there. The sheer conviction that burned in her eyes was almost enough to convince me, as was her unwavering voice as she said, “It won’t. I won’t let it. I promise.” As if she’d personally fight Jigsaw if he came to take one of us a second time. And I believed her. Because I’d do the same.

#tbh i really liked the setup of my amanda x reader oneshot. so i'm just using that concept as the basis for my selfship sjdhgshjgsj #ace writes #🐽💚#🃏🫀#got that gross greenish-yellow saw tint for the moodboard 😎

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smags3d · 1 year

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Here is a old pic that I made in SFM (The watermark is my old username). I like the idea of Amanda being protective over Dwight since he isn't so good at protecting himself. Also have a bonus screenshot of Pig and Ace healing Dwight.

#dead by daylight #source filmmaker #dwight fairfield #amanda young #saw #Dwight Fairfield x Amanda Young #the pig dbd #Dwight x Pig #Youngfield #ace visconti

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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 9 days

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Find My Sanctuary

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Saw

Pairing: Amanda Young x GN!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Content warnings: Angst, trauma, violent intrusive thoughts, mentioned gore, implied/referenced abuse, emotional breakdowns, panic attacks, implied/referenced self-harm, kissing, non-explicit sex, sex as a coping mechanism. There’s some cutesy shit too but it goes downhill fast, so savor it. Some weird prose, tangential rambling, and unnecessary symbolism as the author tries to be poetic. Saw is its own warning.

Author’s Note: So this was inspired by a small, cutesy, self-indulgent piece I wrote back in December. I wanted to expand upon it, but in the process it ended up.... much less cute than I’d originally intended. In fact it became quite angsty. But this is the second installment in a series of Amanda Young x Reader fics I'm planning, the first of which is Too Late I'm Dead. It’s not necessary to read first, but it might provide some context. I’m already working on a third installment that’ll clear up some things that happen here. I had a lot of fun with this, and I’m super excited for this series! I hope you enjoy <3

Your fingers twitched around the cup cradled between your hands. You pressed the pads of your fingers into its warmth and imagined it was someone’s neck. Her father’s, Jigsaw’s. Whoever it needed to be. Before this, the thought might’ve given you pause. Where did that come from? you would wonder to yourself. You knew exactly where it had come from. It had come from the same part of you that ripped yourself free of the nails Jigsaw had hammered through your palms. It had come from the same part of you that was holding onto Amanda like a lifeline, like the last thing in this damned world keeping you afloat.

You can read the full fic here on AO3.

#ace writes #amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw #saw franchise #trying a new formatting for my fics so lemme know if anything looks funky or should be tweaked lmao

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spurkspaint · 1 year

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um two questions

is the amanda the adventurer community still alive and why does amanda x wooly exist isnt that considered z∅∅ph1li4

#ace posted a thing stfu ace #amanda x wooly #uuuuugh i hate this 😩#amanda the adventurer #tw zoophile mention

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minimorgana · 6 months

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From the drafts but seeing as I rewatched 3x01 last night I'll post it:

The way Ace was so freaked out (you could see it on his face) about Nancy possibly leaving Horseshoe Bay and yet his actual girlfriend was in another country and he did not seem torn up about it

#amanda i'm sorry #nancy drew cw #ace hardy #nancy drew #ace nancy drew #nancy drew x ace #nace

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hucklebucket · 2 years

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#nancy drew #gil bobbsey #ace [redacted]#2x13 #the jealousy #the way nancy looks like she's being held hostage #the way amanda is searching for something in the background by herself #the way you know if that was nancy ace would be at her side helping her look #nancy x ace #nace #naceedit #cw nancy drew

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daenysthedreamer101 · 27 days

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Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 1 - To King's Landing

Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong (eventually lol)

Warnings: none

Prologue

Masterlist

"In 107 AC, the King held a seven-day celebration in honor of Princess Rhaenyra's tenth name day. The young Princess was named 'the Realm's Delight' by the minstrels at court. Rhaenyra was a precocious child, bright, bold and beautiful. She became a dragon rider at only seven years old, riding her yellow she-dragon, Syrax. The tourney would also mark the return of Prince Daemon to King's Landing. He spent most of his time away in the Vale, with his lady wife, Rhea Royce, and their young daughter, Princess Daena.

Princess Daena was a lively, cheerful girl only a year younger than her cousin, Rhaenyra. She became a proficient huntress in thanks to her lady mother. Some at court frowned, saying it was inappropriate for a lady to hunt down animals and cover herself in dirt and blood, but Rhea and Daemon paid them no mind, letting their daughter do what she liked. 'She's not just a lady...she's a Princess of House Targaryen. Dragons don't fear blood' Prince Daemon was heard saying in defense of his daughter."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

107 AC, King's Landing

This was Daena's second time visiting King's Landing. Well third, if you count the time her parents brought her when she was a baby so that her great-grandparents, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne could meet their newest great-granddaughter. It was said the Good Queen wept tears of joy when she held Daena in her hands for the first time. The Queen was old and frail, having to walk with a cane. Nonetheless, the Queen gave her blessing and proclaimed that Daena would be a great beauty one day.

Now, Daena and her father, Prince Daemon, were visiting King's Landing once again. This time because of her cousin Rhaenyra. Her uncle, King Viserys I, was holding a great tourney in honor of Rhaenyra's 10th name day. Even after 14 years of marriage, Viserys and his wife, Queen Aemma Arryn, only had one living child - Rhaenyra. The King was known for spoiling his only child with many things, and "seven days of celebration for her name day seemed only appropriate", according to His Grace.

Daena spent much of her childhood at Runestone. She was taught how to ride a horse and hunt with a bow and arrow by her lady mother, Rhea Royce. Her mother was a strong, intelligent woman and was the ruling Lady of Runestone. Daena was very proud to be her daughter and always strived to make her mother proud. Daena didn't look much like her mother. She looked more like her father's side of the family. With fair skin, long silver hair, and lilac eyes, she looked nothing short of a true Targaryen Princess. Nonetheless, she knew she had many other things in common with her dear mother.

Her mother didn't join them. She said she needed to look after Runestone, that it was her duty. But even as a child, Daena knew it was because her mother never liked her father and she simply didn't want to spend time with him. It made Daena sad, that her parents disliked each other, but they tried to be cordial with one another for her sake. She once asked her parents if she would ever get a sibling. Her mother choked on her wine while her father frowned and told her not to be silly and ask stupid questions. She never asked again.

"Are we there yet?" Daena asked Amanda, one of her mother's nieces who went South with them. Lady Amanda was from the cadet branch of House Royce - House Royce of the Gates of the Moon. Amanda was a pretty maid of 16 summers. Nearly a woman grown, Lady Rhea sent her young niece to King's Landing to look after her daughter and also for a potential marriage.

Amanda had long dark brown hair and round brown eyes. Daena liked her very much. She was fun and kind and taught Daena how to sew. "We'll be there in a short while, Princess," Amanda answered while looking out from the small carriage window.

Daena didn't like that she was in a carriage. She wanted to fly with her father on Caraxes but he refused her, saying she was too young. So, she would travel by carriage. She looked out the window and saw a giant castle made of red stone.

"The Red Keep..." Daena whispered under her breath. She has never seen King's Landing. She did visit in 101 AC, when her great-grandfather, Jaehaerys passed away. But she didn't remember much from that whole ordeal. She only remembered that everyone was sad and quiet.

Daena was 9 years old and slightly taller than most girls her age. She was thin and slender and had long silver hair she liked to keep in a single long braid. Father said it made her look like Queen Visenya. Daena would love nothing more than to be like the legendary Visenya.

"Do you think Rhaenyra will let me see Syrax?" Daena quietly asked Amanda. She would never admit it, but she was a bit jealous that Rhaenyra had a dragon. Daena's dark purple egg never hatched. She still had it, it was held back at Runestone, but she didn't like looking at it.

It made her sad and angry. Some kids back at Runestone would mock her and call her Daena the Dragonless. The words of her mother's House were 'We remember' and in keeping with that, she never forgot or forgave the people who mocked her. She hoped that since she was in King's Landing, she could claim an already hatched dragon.

"I'm not sure...Perhaps a bit later." Amanda said cautiously. She knew how important dragons were to the Targaryens and it hurt her to see Daena so sad.

"Open the gates!" A guard shouted. They were already there. They were about to enter the Red Keep! Daena sat up straight and smoothed her red and black silk dress. Her silver hair was braided at the top to look like a crown. Small ruby earrings dangled like blood droplets from her ears. The gates were opened and the carriage entered the courtyard.

The doors of the carriage opened and Daena could see her father dismounting his horse. A page boy helped her get out. Once her feet hit the ground, a guard announced them.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen and his daughter, Princess Daena!" Her father beckoned her over and so she quickly walked over to him. He put his arm around her little shoulders.

"Prince Daemon...Welcome..."A voice said. She finally focused on the person standing in front of the castle doors. It was Ser Otto Hightower - the Hand of the King.

"Princess..." He greeted her as well, though he sounded and looked like he didn't want to be there. She didn't curtsy to the lord, she didn't have to as a Princess. She felt her father protectively pulling her closer to him.

"Ser Otto...", her father managed to say through gritted teeth. Even as a child, she could tell the two men heavily disliked each other.

"Amanda, take Daena inside. Visit the Queen if you can. I'm sure Her Grace would like that" Daemon told Amanda. The young Royce girl nodded and took Daena's hand and they walked inside. Once they reached the Queen's chambers, they entered the spacious room.

"Princess Daena, Your Grace", a maid announced Daena. The Queen was heavily pregnant and was sitting on a chaise lounge in front of a big window and was propped up by lots of pillows. Her silver hair was down and fell freely. She wore only a nightdress and a pretty, pink, embroidered silk robe. The Queen turned her head and smiled lightly at her young niece.

"Daena, my dear...How you've grown. I haven't seen you in ages." Aemma said softly as she looked over Daena. The young princess curtsied to Aemma. The Queen beckoned her and gave her a warm hug.

"Your Grace," Daena said politely.

"Come, sit here." Aemma gestured to a nearby chair. Daena sat. Aemma looked over Daena's shoulder and saw a pretty brunette in the corner. Daena noticed.

"Your Grace, this is Lady Amanda Royce of the Gates of the Moon. She's my cousin. She came here with me, I hope you don't mind." Daena introduces Amanda to the Queen.

"No, not at all. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady" Aemma greets the Royce girl.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. Thank you for having me" Amanda says and bows to Aemma. The Queen and Daena talk for a while, about the Vale, about Runestone, and how much Daena has grown.

"If I may ask...where is my dear cousin Rhaenyra? I haven't seen her yet." Daena asks after a while. Aemma sighs and fans herself with a fan.

"I believe she's having her lesson with Septa Marlow" Aemma explained. Daena hums in acknowledgment.

"Princess Rhaenyra", a maid announces after a while. In came Daena's older cousin. She was fair-skinned with pretty purple eyes. She was a bit shorter than Daena, but they both had long silver hair.

"Cousin! It's been so long!" Rhaenyra greeted Daena with a warm smile and a tight hug.

"Nyra!" Daena exclaimed in joy. Rhaenyra greeted her mother and they talked for a few minutes.

"Come, dear cousin. Let's go for a walk." Rhaenyra suggests and takes Daena by the hand.

"Your Grace, I hope you have a nice day." Daena bid the Queen politely. Aemma smiled sadly at the two girls.

Daena and Rhaenyra were walking in the Royal Gardens in the afternoon sun. They sat under the weirwood and talked for hours. In the distance Ser Harrold Westerling, Rhaenyra's sworn shield, was keeping guard. At sundown, Amanda came around and told them they were summoned for supper with the King.

"Will you show me Syrax one day?" Daena asks.

"Of course, I would love to, " Rhaenyra answers.

"We can even fly together once she gets big enough" Nyra adds.

Once they were ready, Ser Harrold escorted them to the dining chamber where they were to have supper. As they entered, Daena could see her uncle, the King, sitting at the head of the table. To his right was his wife, Queen Aemma, who looked tired. To his left was her father, Prince Daemon. To Aemma's right was Princess Rhaenys and her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon - the Sea Snake. Daena was surprised to see them there. Shaking her head, she sat next to her father. Nyra sat next to her.

"Girls, we've been waiting for you for some time," King Viserys says lightly scolding the girls.

"Forgive us, father. We were talking and we got distracted." Nyra says sheepishly. Viserys smiles and looks over to his niece.

"Ah, Daena...I haven't seen you since you were a toddler. How you've grown..." Viserys says to Daena. She smiled awkwardly and the food was served. The adults talked amongst themselves. Daena and Rhaenyra quietly traded gossip with one other. Daena tried her best not to look at the Sea Snake and his wife. Rhaenys was her aunt, but she always found the woman kind of scary, though she would never admit it.

After supper, Daena bid her cousin goodbye and left with her father to their chambers.

"I'll see you in the morning Nyra" Daena says and hugs Nyra. She and her father enter her chambers.

"Wow..." Daena gasps as she sees her room. Her chambers back at Runestone weren't nearly as big.

"I already told the maids to fix you up a bath," Daemon says to her. He walks over to her and pets her head, caressing her silver hair. She hugs his waist and looks up at him with tired eyes. He smiles at her.

"Issi ao ēdrugī, riñītsos?" (Are you tired, little girl?) He asks her. She nods her head.

"Come here..." He says and picks her up easily and puts her down on the bed. He starts unbraiding her hair. He knew most men wouldn't even consider doing something like this. He didn't think he had it in him to be like this. So soft, and gentle...and caring. But the second he held her when she was born...he knew he would do anything for her. He would burn the entire world if it meant she was safe and sound.

Once he was done unbraiding her hair, he turned her head toward him. He studied her face. She looked just like him. Silver hair, lilac eyes, it was all him. But she had her mother's oval face. He didn't like his wife, whatsoever. But she helped him create Daena. His precious Princess. His little girl. His little dragon.

"I'll call Amanda. She'll help you bathe." He told her and got up to leave. Before he was able to leave, she caught him and pulled him by the sleeve of his shirt. He bent down to her level.

"What is it, sweet girl?" He asked her.

"Sȳz bantis kepa. Avy jorrāelan" (Good night Father. I love you) she told him sleepily and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled once again and kissed her silver hair.

"Avy jorrāelan tolī, dōna riña" (I love you too, sweet girl). He told her and left her chamber.

---

High Valyrian:

Issi ao ēdrugī, riñītsos? - Are you tired, little girl?

Sȳz bantis Kepa. Avy jorrāelan - Good night Father. I love you.

Avy jorrāelan tolī, dōna riña - I love you too, sweet girl.

***

Omg, the first chapter is finally here! It's mostly an introduction to Daena and it establishes many relationships that will develop/deteriorate over time.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

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