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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (3)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.

He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.

It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.

As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.

Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.

Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.

He was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world.

He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.

Everything was as it should be.

He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.

It was then that he came upon them.

He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.

All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.

And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.

He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.

That he would be a cripple.

He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.

He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.

She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.

Then he understood.

So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?

How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?

He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.

He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.

He was no fool.

Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.

However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.

His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.

He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.

Waiting for her letters was his obsession.

She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.

He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.

Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.

It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.

After what happened something inside me died.

Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.

I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.

He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.

Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.

He knew that, like him, she read a lot.

She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.

When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.

Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.

He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.

He dreaded what he would do then.

The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.

Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.

He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.

If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.

He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.

Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?

Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?

He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.

He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kiss.

A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.

However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.

He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.

He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.

The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.

He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.

He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.

If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.

When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.

He thought the gods were cruel but fair.

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.

With her entire family.

He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.

He wasn't ready for this.

He didn't want to see her.

He wanted nothing more than to see her again.

He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.

Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?

What was he to answer if she did?

Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.

Tear off her gown, press his lips to her bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.

He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.

When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.

"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.

His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.

He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.

It seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.

He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.

Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

It occurred to him, looking at the unashamedly exposed bare skin of her shoulders, that it must have been pleasantly soft and warm.

He imagined his lips brushing the hollow of her neck, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.

This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing, from which he felt a tightness in his throat and this huge, overwhelming, cruel desire.

He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.

That evening he felt that something hung in the air, he felt her presence in the keep, he had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.

He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.

Maybe it was the right path.

Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.

He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.

He felt it in his bones.

He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.

"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.

He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.

Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.

He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his, and he licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.

Gods, how long he had waited for this.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear. He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.

"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well. He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.

She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.

He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.

"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.

He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.

To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.

Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.

She, however, asked nothing.

He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead and walked around his chamber, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort, as if he had lost control of the situation, his advantage over her.

"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, coldly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.

She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.

She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.

"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.

He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.

The thought that someone else might touch her body made him furious.

He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.

"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.

He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eyes to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.

She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.

"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He was struck by how direct the question was.

He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.

"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my best friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."

He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.

She was crying in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do, even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.

He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child and burst out sobbing.

He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She whined in a desperate, trembling, quavering voice − he felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness.

She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her. He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat he felt in his lower abdomen.

There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.

He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt him throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.

The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.

He rubbed against her his already hard cock again and again, sliding his free hand under her chemise, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her skin, his manhood reacting to his movements instantly with a strong, pleasurable throbbing, he involuntarily began to pant.

He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his scarred cheek.

"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand, with longing and desire.

He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.

He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.

That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her mouth, jaw and neck with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin, his hands slid it slowly off her shoulders, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.

He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.

He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.

"− easy − your husband will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was, he heard her surprised moan.

He grasped her cheeks in his fingers, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his; his hand slid lower, ran over her soft, wet, full lips. She moaned helplessly because of the increasingly rapid bucking of his hips, the bulge in his breeches rubbing against the spot between her legs.

"− please −" She babbled, and he decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl, his fingers began to tease and play with her nipple, her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.

"− uh − I − I feel a tickling inside me, uncle −" She mumbled out as innocently as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.

Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.

She was wet.

She wanted him inside her.

"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He whispered into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end. She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.

She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.

He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.

How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?

"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breathing quick as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it and his chemise, leaving only his breeches.

He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.

Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.

She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; she tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do, but only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot womanhood, the sound she made surprised even him.

"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her tight cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.

"− have you touched yourself here? −" He asked between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face. He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the bud hidden between her folds, she moaned loudly when he did it.

Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable moans erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.

"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whined out trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.

He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.

In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.

What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.

He hummed as he leaned down again and slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.

"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.

"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls at the spot that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.

"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.

It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.

He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.

Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.

He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.

His niece.

"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching manhood, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.

She looked up at him in shame, squeezing him with sure up and down strokes, feeling him throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.

"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.

Against their gods, against their family.

He didn't care what happened next.

"− don't fucking stop − faster − oh fuck-fuck-fuck −" He growled out and moaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.

"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.

"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows and she swallowed loudly, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.

"− you are going to spend the night with me −"

______

From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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misthogansnk · 6 months

Text

“I will live in you”

Syzoth x fem.Reader

Warning: Angst, death, blood, despair and loss of a loved one

Description: Syzoth's destiny is marked, loss haunts him.

It cost me a lot to try to move on, my new friends, people who supported me and accepted me were a great help to move forward, but she, y/n was a key piece, it took me a whole year to decide to court her or as Johnny says 'ask her on a date', I didn't want to rush anything, and neither did she. She perfectly understood my mourning and my obligations as the new emissary, she was patient, she gave me her friendship, her love, her heart... She was the first hot blood from the land that set foot in Zaterra, to my surprise she was well received, her diplomacy and charisma fell in favor among my people. Although not everyone looked favorably on me, they evidently understood my way of acting. I wasn't introducing them to a simple woman, I was introducing them to my partner.

The relationship blossomed, time helped and we got married. It wasn't long before he gave me the news that would light up my soul: we were having a child. In his womb was the fruit of our love. By then we were living thanks to the kindness of the Empress in her palace. She had indeed become her advisor and best friend, and the news was more than welcome. I had to take care of Y/N, my wife was a great fighter, an innate warrior, although her health was fragile.

I became overprotective in the months that followed, she took care of everything and everyone...but I never took care of her of me.

“Y/n, my love, I have a surprise for you,” my joy made her beautiful smile warm even my soul, “there is one month left until our son is born, so I prepared everything on my recent trip to Zaterra, everything so that be born.” There… come on, I’ll help you pack.” Why did I do that?

"Syzoth, I don't think it is appropriate to go now, my belly is heavy and such a long trip could bring forward the delivery."

I looked at it with disappointment and disgust, my people were looking forward to it, it was a new beginning for everyone. We argued, yes, I hate myself for that every day, every hour, minute or second but she ended up agreeing, she agreed to a damn whim of mine. That same night we left, and damn, she was right. The trip was hectic and our recent argument didn't help, we didn't exchange words, I didn't notice it, I didn't notice her pained face, how her belly was clenching, I deserve the worst. It wasn't until we were almost at my house that she screamed, her water broke, and her contractions took over. We hurried and as soon as we arrived I carried her in my arms, my son would soon be born. My euphoria at the acceptance of my people was so much that I forgot many important things, I forgot about their fragile health, that my people were not used to warm-blooded births, the wisest and most medical, so to speak, They had only heard history or studied books about it.

Your labor lasted 16 hours, I couldn't stop holding her hand, encouraging her, what did I do? But there came a time when I heard you cry, you were beautiful, your features were as perfect as your mother's, I was distracted by your beauty and did not notice the blood that flooded the place. They placed you on her chest and she kissed you on the forehead, looking at you lovingly.

I will remember her words to this day: “Syzoth, promise me that you will love her and protect her, live for her and make her happy, will you promise me my love? I love you and I will always be there for her and you.” Her voice was almost a whisper: "I will always live in you, daughter," then she kissed your forehead again. I was naive, I just said “yes my love”, I smiled and went to get some things for the baby and I was late because I wanted to bring flowers to my wife, what an idiot, it wasn't a promise. , it was a farewell. When I got to the room I only noticed the silence, until I saw you, I saw the blood, it was no use praying, it was no use begging her to just be asleep, I had lost again, she died and I couldn't say goodbye, I couldn't protect her, I failed. The bouquet of flowers that would decorate her room adorned her grave. Your crying put my feet on the ground, but it was not enough. Because of me you didn't know her, you didn't know your mother...

I'm a coward, I know. You are old enough to understand, I am a coward who tells you this through a letter, I am sorry. I promised her that she would save you, and I did, I protected you from me, I love you and I hope that one day you can understand, I don't seek forgiveness because I know that maybe I never deserve it.

Take care of yourself, yes, don't make Kuai Liang or Harumi angry on earth.

With love dad...

#mortal kombat #kitana #mileena mortal kombat 1 #mk mileena #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat1 #mk1 x you #syzoth x y/n #syzoth x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth #reptile x reader #reptile mortal kombat #fanfic #angst #mortal kombat x you #kuai liang #harumi hasashi

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jeromeswife · 1 year

Text

yandere namor x f!reader - one love, two mouths

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: A kingdom destroyed, a heart crushed, and a king full of immeasurable desire.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, kidnapping, mentions of stalking, death

Translations:

in pixamech - my angel

in amado - my beloved

I left my bedroom in the Wakanda palace. Shuri and Queen Romanda took me in after my home, the Alumid Kingdom was attacked in the middle of the night. I remember waking to the attacks and seeing a mysterious figure in the sky. It seemed that he was looking down at me, but I couldn’t see his face nor any distinguishing features in the darkness. Shuri let me know when she came that an attack came on the radar and when they came to investigate me, they found me passed out on the ground with a bracelet adorned with beautiful jewels around my wrist. I really had not many memories of that night besides the destruction of my kingdom and the deaths of my people around me. You see, I was the princess and future heir to the throne. It was something that shook me to my core, but I accepted my place and prepared daily for it, in case something were to happen to my father.

My bare feet walked along the hallways of the palace, stopping in at Shuri’s lab. She turned around and saw me, a smile painting her face, “(Y/N)! Did you sleep well?”

“Hmm.. I guess. Still not feeling great after seeing everything I loved lost to an attack.”

A sympathetic expression appeared on her face, seeing me down in the dumps mentally. The memories just couldn’t stop playing in my head. I still wondered what had occurred to make us targeted for such an attack. And I couldn’t ask my father because he died before I even could.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).. I understand that feeling of loss. The lost of my brother is something that still affects me, even after a year later. I miss him so much. I can still feel him all around me, yet I still blame myself for not being able to save him,” Shuri’s hand rubbed my back with comfort. “Don’t go down the path I did. Mourn your loss freely and build up a strong support system. You are welcome to stay here and recover till then.”

Her comforting words made me smile and I looked up at her, giving a soft smile. “Thank you for being there to rescue me.”

I inched my hand towards hers and held it. Shuri made me feel safe, like no one else could hurt me. I still can’t believe I’m still here, and alive today.

“(Y/N), if I may ask, did you see anything that night? Like who destroyed your kingdom?”

I thought back to that night. Since it was close to midnight, it was hard to tell. The only thing I could make out in the darkness was people with blue skin and a mask over their mouths. They speared my people. I couldn’t get the blood curdling screams out of my brain.

“Princess, run! Get out of here!”

The memories of their voices hurt my head. It was like a virus in my body that had no antibiotic. No way to get it out of there. It would be stuck inside there, slowly killing me.

“I only remember.. The blue people with masks over their mouths. They were speaking a language I couldn’t quite understand. And.. the figure in the sky. They looked human, but they couldn’t be. They were flying!”

I saw Shrui’s eyes widen at my words. Something she definitely knew but I had to ask. “Shuri? Do you know what I saw?”

Shuri hesitated. her words stuck in her throat. I didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but I was certain that it wasn’t anything good.

“I don’t know what you saw either..”

I knew she was lying, but I accepted her answer either way. If there was one thing I would never do, it was to force something out of someone. It would be too much..

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was later that night and I decided to leave my room once more, venturing down to a nearby beach on the shores of Wakanda. The only thing that could calm me down was the sound of the crashing waves and the chirps of the crickets that sang in the night.

Looking out at the sea reminded me of how free it was down there. No invasion. No destruction. Just pure peace and tranquility.

I couldn’t ignore that bracelet that adorned my wrist from the moment I awoke after the destruction. My fingers stroked over the jewels and the smooth gold. It was jewels I had never seen before from my kingdom. Rare green colors of emeralds and topaz. It amazed me that I even had it on my body in the first place.

My ears picked up some ripples from the water and I looked at it with curiosity. What emerged from the water was something I least expected. It was a man with brown skin, pointed ears, well trimmed facial hair, and angelic wings on his feet. I couldn’t tell if he was an angel or devil in my eyes.

I scooted back away from the water, my bottom brushing up against the cold sand. He had gotten close to me before placing both feet on the ground, “Up close to you finally, In pixamech “

His language didn’t translate much and my breath caught in my throat. The oxygen refused to come out because I had an odd feeling about him.

“And you are?”

My bracelet around my wrist seemed to grow much tighter as he got closer. A smirk appeared out of the corner of his mouth before he took a deep breath, “K’uk’ulkan, King of Talokan, but my enemies call me Namor. And you are Princess (Y/N) of Alumid.”

My heart sank to my stomach hearing him know who I was. That silhouette came to mind.. Everything about his physical outline matched the person who had looked down upon me as my kingdom was destroyed, left to ruins. It was him!

“..You.. Were you the one who brought destruction upon my kingdom!” The bracelet tightened around my wrist when my fury came out. The reaction came when I leapt towards him. But before I could, the sting of it stopped me.

I couldn’t help but look at Namor’s face. A dark chuckle was let out of his throat at the sight of me not being able to fight back nor take him down.

“And it was so easy to get you out of there.. If I had just came in there and taken you, my people would have been in danger, no? And it’s easier to capture you when you aren’t close to the earth elements, in amado.”

I struggled to even speak and I looked around, trying to find any way to fight him back. As much as I loved the sea, I couldn’t use its elements to defend me. I was useless the way I was now.

A few tears shed down my face as I fell onto my knees, hopeless, “Y-You’re a monster..” Before I knew it, I felt his knuckles wrap around my chin and pull my face towards his, him kneeling down as well.

“You call me a monster, but the real monsters are those you surround yourself with.”

Namor took out a mask and held it over my face while the bracelet began stinging and tightening me even more. Then it was dark.

#namor x reader #namor #namor the sub mariner #namor x y/n #yandere #yandere namor #dark namor #kukulkan #tenoch huerta #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #namor imagine #namor fanfiction

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hyperfreaksating · 6 months

Text

NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN - 8/9

Heyaaaa fellow buggy simps ! I wish y'all a wonderful day !

Here it is ! The penultimate part of Nerver leave me again ! I just came back from my vacations and I felt the urge of writting Buggy things, sooooo here we are (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Author Note : this was my favorite part to write I have to say ! I hope you'll enjoy it. As usual english is not my native language, just started the anime, didn't read the manga, not trying my best to write something good, just making myself a little gift as an author

Content : Buggy x FemReader + kids, no use of Y/n, no physical description except for hair color. Alcohol, sadness, angst, a bit of yelling & screaming buuuuut also a lot of fluff & cheezy at the end, trust the ride darlings (~˘▾˘)~

[ FANFICTION MASTERPOST ]

Take a DEPRESSED BUGGY ILLUSTRATION & let's go !

If you missed the ship I'm on

You will know that I am gone

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles

Never leave me again - 8/9

Buggy was deathly hangover.

He was lying on his desk, drooling, his captain's hat falling on his face, an empty rum bottle in the hand. He couldn't remember having his mind clear for once in the last two months.

Two months. It's been two months since you disappeared. Two months without seeing his kids. Two months sleeping - more like trying to fall asleep between two panic attacks - without you by his side.

Ah, fucking Reddie, you did the things right this time didn't you ? You left a note on your pillow, a looooong letter explaining in detail why you decided to leave him, to take the kids away from him for their safety - at least the time of Skye's recovery, but that you were not sure to come back one day. Every word you wrote felt like another knife in his heart.

He never felt this much like a shit - and oh god, he often felt like a shit in his life. He was trying really hard to be mad at you, because you abandoned him again and took his babies away from him, but the fact was that he was mostly mad about himself. How fucking stupid he was. When he saw Skye crying and screaming on the floor, something broke in him. At the moment, he couldn't do anything but freeze and fly away from his responsabilities. Now, he would trade anything, his boat, his crew, his treasures, chasing the one piece, to come back in time and tell you that no, this kind of accident would never happen again, clown's honor. Fucking stupid pride. Fucking stupid ego. Fucking stupid broken mind.

A vivid pain came over his head when he heard knocks on the door. He stood up a little. This was probably Cabaji, coming back from his daily patrol to look for you and the triplets. He has been sending his crew to your research every day and night since you left, but hasn't received any results yet.

"Enter, enter" he grumbled, massaging his painful tempers.

Cabaji entered the room and nodded at him with respect. Buggy smirked when he saw what looked like concern in the eyes of his chief of staff. At least someone on this boat still gave a shit about him. He raised an eyebrow to him, a silent question on the face.

"Captain… we found them." Cabaji said.

Hearing these words, Buggy felt his heart exploding with hope. A manic grin grew on his face, from one ear to the other.

And without even realizing it, he started to laugh, for the first time in two months.

Life could have been better, life could have been worse.

Makino was really nice to you, the village was peaceful and Skye's arm was almost totally healed. You missed Buggy's presence every day and the triplets seemed to mourn life on the ship, but deep inside you knew you took the right decision. At least for a short time.

Two months ago, you were such a mess. You called Nami and asked if the strawhats could come to the island you were on as soon as possible to take you away. She accepted without any questions.

You ran away in the night, when triplets were too tired to be noisy. You took a moment to write a letter to Buggy. You were aware of the severe impact your choice would have on him and you wanted to minimize the harm the best you could.

Nami, Luffy and Zoro came in a small boat to take you away. Their jaws fell on the ground in front of you when they saw you, tired and messy with three kids with either red noses or blue hair - letting no doubt about their father's identity.

"Do I really need to explain?" You grumbled, and they silently took you aboard.

Skye, Rory and Blaze quickly felt asleep in the small cabin's hamac, and you started explaining everything to your old friends : how Buggy was a good father - you chose to ignore their puzzled expression as you said so - but how irresponsible he could be, how much you were scared for your kids safety after Skye's accident and how you needed a place to rest, at least the time of her recovery. Nami never stopped rubbing your back while you were crying.

"You did well calling me, Reddie." she said with a soft tone, "I'm so sorry. We will find a place for the four of you to stay."

She took a moment to think before pursuing.

"I could take you back to my sister's location, at Cocoyasi? You know her and now the village is free from Arlong it's a pretty good place to live."

You shaked your head nervously, and answer sobbing:

"N… no.. it's where Buggy and I started to flirt, I … he would know "

Zoro and Luffy raised an eyebrow to each other. Apparently they didn't notice your love story with the genius jester started there.

"Luffy …" you finally asked, looking at your former captain "you always talk about your birth village in positive terms… do you… do you think I could stay somewhere there with the kids?"

Luffy's eyes opened wide, and he sent you one of these big, warm smiles only him holds the secret off.

Road to Fuschia village was quite a long way, you had to spend two or three days on the sea. You were surprised to see how easily the triplets get along with your former crew. On the second day of your trip, they spent the entire afternoon playing with Luffy's gum gum abilities on the desk.

"They are adorable, Red'. I'm sure everyone gonna love them at Fuschia." Nami said as you were both watching Rory and Blaze running in opposite directions, each one holding one of Luffy's cheeks - Luffy laughing as hell all along.After playing a bit with her brothers Skye ran to you, asking for your arms, and you took her close to your chest, tenderly caressing her hairs. It would be clear for everyone who ever saw his wanted poster that Buggy was their father, and you were scared that people would somehow reject them because of this. Or that they would reject the twins because of their red noses, too. "I hope you're right, Nami" you answered softly.

Luffy introduced you to Makino, the village bartender, and you agreed to assist her at the bar in return for two beds for you and your children. She stared a little bit too long at the twins noses but didn't say anything, and you were thankful to her for this. Your old friends spent the night at the island to grab some forces and eat a bit before going back to their own journey. Spending time with them again was great.

The next morning you came to the beach to say goodbye with your three little rug rats.

"Thank you. For everything." You whispered to Nami, holding her in your arms.

"It's ok Reddie. I hope you'll find some peace of mind here."

Next to you, Blaze and Rory were jumping on Luffy's back, and Skye was looking at Zoro with sparkle in the eyes.

"Promise ? Next time you'll show me how to use a saber ?"

She asked. Zoro looked at her with a little smile.

"Of course, if you're tall enough to handle it." He answered, playfully rubbing her head.

You gathered the triplets around you.

"Come on kids it's time to say good bye ."

You whispered. You nodded at Luffy with gratitude, before looking at your former crew going back on their ship. You stared at their boat until it disappeared into the horizon. Now, it was only you, all alone with three kids who inherited their father's temperament.

All of this leaded you here, two months later, cleaning the bar all alone while triplets were sleeping upstairs.

It was a warm and peaceful evening. You took the night shift after putting the kids in bed. Becoming kind of a single mom made those little alone moments precious to you.

You were whipping the counter when loud stomps came from the outside. You raised your head and froze in panic.

Buggy, Cabaji and Mohji just entered the bar with brutal gestures.

You were so beautiful, and it made him so mad.

When Buggy saw you here, froze behind the bar, a wave of contradictory feelings hit his heart. In a first time, love , hope and relief. You were alive, you were doing well. And you were so pretty with your messy red hair around your head and he was so happy to see you again that he could feel himself falling in love with you for the second time. But quickly, all his anger, sadness, and grudge came back to him. You left him again. You betrayed him. You took his precious kids away. And shit, you chose this village to hide. Shanks village. Tooth grinding, he walked to the bar furiously, Cabaji and Mohji on his steps . For now he just wanted to see his kids.

"Where are they ?" He asked, looking you in the eyes, with a rough tone.

You looked nervously to Cabaji and Mohji before answering.

"Bugs I …"

He lost his nerves and walked closer menacingly, screaming at you.

"DON'T "BUGS" ME. YOU PROMISED TO NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. BUT WORST. YOU HAD NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT TO TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME."

He noticed a hint of guilt in your eyes, and he had to admit that it was satisfying.

"Please Buggy" you answered with a small voice, "let the crew go and I'll take you to them, trust me…

- Trusting you?" He sneered, "Why would I do something so stupid ?"

However he snapped and Cabaji and Mohji went away. You whipped your forehead with the back of your head with a sigh of relief. He looked at you, arms crossed. He couldn't help but love you. He couldn't help but be mad at you.

"Bugs I…, you started.

- Shut up, take me to the kids.

- No please I…

- I SAID SHUT. UP."

He screamed violently, hitting the counter. He immediately regretted it. This kind of impulse was what costed him his family. He let himself fall on one of the bar's chairs and put his head in his hands. He looked at you, desperate, almost begging.

"Why, Reddie ? Why did you leave again? Why did you take the kids ?"

Without him realizing it, the anger in his voice morphed into sadness and despair.

" In you I finally found someone I thought I could trust buy it's the THIRD time you leave me. I thought you loved me. I thought everything we shared meant something."

He swallowed in anguish before pursuing.

"I… I know I fucking messed up with Skye but I thought you… I thought we could… Damn Reddie you can't… just tell me why. What's so wrong with me that you can't stay by my side?"

Saying these last words he bursted into tears. You looked at him with a soft smile, full of compassion. Answering, you started to fill two glasses with beer.

"Buggy… it's not you." You put one the glasses on the counter in front of him, and he nodded thankfully before taking a sip. "Leaving you… it was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. I loved you, with all my heart Bugs. And I still love you. And every second without you is like missing a bit of my own heart.

- But… ?"

He raised a sad eyebrow to you, waiting for your answer with apprehension.

"But… I love them more." You said, looking at the stairs next to the bar. "I… I never thought I could love someone this much. Yes, the postpartum was a fucking hell, and yes, they often are fucking pains in the ass. But… but when I saw Skye crying in pain on the ground I… it was like a primitive instinct. I had to take her out of the danger. To take all my kids away."

Listening to you, Buggy couldn't resist and detached a hand, letting it run in your hairs. He smiled at you sadly and whispered :

"And this danger you ran away from… it was me ?"

As you answered, you caressed his hand with tenderness .

"I don't know… not really. Oh Bugs most of the time you were so amazing with them! I could never have dreamed of a better father for my kids. But that night… when you said you couldn't promise me they'll never get hurt again… I… I couldn't.

- If I knew I'd lose them… lose the four of you, I would have said something else. I was so fucking scared Red… I... "

Tears started running on his cheek again. With a soft gesture, you whipped them away. He shivered feeling your hand on his face. Damn he missed you so fucking much.

"Bugs I…" you started, screams came from the stairs and interrupted you.

"DADDY !"

Buggy looked over his shoulder and felt a manic grin grow on his face when he saw Skye, Rory and Blaze running to him, full of joy.

Buggy felt on his knees, gathering his kids in his arms, covering them in kisses and hugs, tears going down on his cheeks.

You looked at him from behind the bar, your heart shattered by emotion and guilt. Even though you knew the kids were missing their father, you didn't realize just how much until now. Skye, Rory and Blaze were all talking together in a nonsense mess of questions, stories of their life at Fuschia, and soft words to their father who couldn't do anything but cry under this love attack. He fell backwards and ended up sitting on the ground, Rory and Blaze in his arms. Their combined laughs filled the bar. He kissed his twins foreheads with loud noises, spreading red makeup all around their faces.

"Oh my little goblins I missed you so fucking much"

You laughed, allowing the swear to pass this time.

Buggy's eyes went to Skye, in front of him. He kneeled before her and put his hands on her cheeks, looking at her in the eyes, and his face became more serious.

"Skye my cotton candy princess I'm so, so fucking sorry, I promise I'll never let anything hurt you again sweetheart"

Skye jumped at his neck and he held her as hard as he could, paying attention to her injured arm.

You put a hand in front of your mouth. Seeing the scene made you cry as hard as you could, as your love for him came back to you like a boomerang.

Buggy stayed like this for a moment, his three kids in the arms.

A few minutes later, the triplets were tired and had trouble keeping their eyes opened.

"I think it's time for them to go back to bed, Bugs"

You whispered with tenderness.

Skye blinked at her father and asked.

"Daddyyyyy can you read us a story?"

Buggy turned his head to you, a silent question on the face. You nodded. He smiled, and jumped back on his feet. He somehow managed to grab all his kids in the arms.

"Alright kiddoes it's story time !"

He said joyfully, and you chuckled looking at him disappear in the stairs.

You finished cleaning the bar. When everything was done, you went upstairs. In your room, Buggy was sitting on the ground and reading a book to the kids, who were all snuggled under a blanket in the bed they shared.

"… Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning!"

His tone and gestures were theatrically over the top. Peter pan. Of course.

You smiled and lied on the door frame for a little while, looking at him, not wanting to break the magic. You realized how much you missed those moments, and how much you wanted things to go back to how they were. You went downstairs back to the bar, letting him ending his story.

When the triplets finally fell asleep, Buggy went down the stairs to the bar.

You were here, sitting at a table, drinking a glass of rum. He smiled at you, and you smiled at him. You raised the rum bottle to him.

"Wanna share a drink ? Like good old times."

He nodded with enthusiasm, and sat in front of you. You poured rum into a glass for him. He raised his glass to you before taking a sip.

"Damn I forgot how exhausting it was to put them in bed" he grumbled, and you chuckled. For a moment, it was like you never left.

You rubbed your glass nervously.

"It was a mistake."

You whispered, anguish in the voice.

He stopped drinking to look at you with a questioning glance. You bit your lips and looked back at him.

"Leaving you. Taking the kids. They love you so much. I.."

Buggy smiled sadly. All his anger for you was way behind him now, and he just enjoyed being by your side. He sent a hand to caress your cheek with tenderness while the other one was still holding his glass.

"It's ok Reddie." He whispered. "I'm the one to blame. I couldn't admit it but when I saw Skye on the ground… I felt like the shittiest man on earth. I could have punched myself in the face. I almost did it."

He chuckled nervously, drinking a bit of his rum. He couldn't remember being so vulnerable with someone before. But it felt easy. Natural. And being with you again… He felt the same feeling as when his limbs were detached from his body for too long and he finally got them back. For the first time in two months, he felt complete.

You closed your eyes and leaned against his palm, before looking him in the eyes.

"I missed you so much." You whispered.

Suddenly, all the weight he was holding on his shoulders since your departure disappeared. His thumb rubbed your cheek, right under your eyes.

"I missed you too Red'. More than words can express." He admitted, never stopping looking at you.

You fixed your gaze on him. In your eyes he saw an infinite tenderness, and a love that could beat any barrier on the way.

You shared an intimate silence.

It was so good to be at his side again. It was like having back a missing part of you. But you knew you still had serious shit to discuss. You took a deep breath and broke the silence.

"We have to find a way to make it work."

Buggy played with his glass, nervous.

"What do you mean ?" He asked.

You stood up and started walking around to chase away your nervousness.

"I mean…" your started, anxious. "I mean that I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you apologized to Skye. And oh gosh, I never again want to take care of three toddlers without you by my side. But…"

He turned on his chair to look at you, and his face was filled with apprehension.

"But we have to make sure kids won't get hurt anymore." you finally said "Or at least that they could handle it, Bugs."

He stood up and went to your side. He held you by the waist, a protective gesture you missed too damn much. You crossed your hands behind his neck.

"I'm so fucking sorry Red'. For everything." He whispered, looking down.

You smiled and put your forehead against his. You changed so much. He changed so much. It was hard to believe you were the same idiots who flirted in a drunk burp contest, an eternity ago.

"I'm sorry too, for leaving, for breaking your trust, again and again." You whispered. You carressed his cheek tenderly.

"I love you, Bugs."

He smiled and captured you in a passionate kiss. You stayed like this a few moments. He broke the embrace and touched your chin.

"We will find a way to manage it, Red. I promise."

You were about to talk but he put an index on your lips, raising an eyebrow with a playful glance.

"But ! But. If you want me to keep this promise babe, you have to promise me something in return.

- And what would it be ?, " you asked, your hands playing with the hairs on the back of his head.

He looked at you in the eyes, and you saw all his insecurities, all his vulnerability coming back to the surface as he whispered to you :

"Never leave me again."

You cupped his face in your hands, and deeply kiss him again, and again, and again.

"I promise " you whispered in return. "I won't leave you again"

And for the first time ever, you knew this was a promise you could keep.

sorry for all the cheese I guess ! See you soon for the VERY LAST PART

｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

#buggy the clown #buggy simp #captain buggy #buggy one piece #buggy live action #op buggy #buggy #buggy fanfiction #buggy x female reader #buggy x you #Spotify

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wifeofsnowbaird · 4 months

Text

You put a spell on me

[A/N: I was too lazy to wait for the end of the poll. also i haven't watched the show and wikipedia is kinda holding me up so don't get mad at me for messing smth up, i'll go on the fan wiki tho, they always have everything.]

[EDIT: guys I forgot about the civil war 💀💀💀 I finally fixed it tho so yay]

Part 1/Part 2

Masterlist

[Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth's version) x desi!oc]

Warning: description of blood, slight violence, flogging, racism, flogging, slaves, smut in maybe part 6?

Summary: Sheila was a slave taken by a British couple at the age of 12 for her singing. She was brought to America even though they had the 13th Amendment where slavery was abolished. She saw a friend of hers, who was brought with her, getting flogged and that was her last straw, proceeding to run away. Until she sees the most notorious outlaw in the South, then she settles to free her friends from the British couple that came to America for money.

It was July.25, 1878, Lincoln County, New Mexico. Sheila woke up to nothing but harsh screams coming from one of her friends as she was beaten and whipped. She felt worried because the girl was new…Unlike Sheila who had been with the owner since she was twelve, merely because his wife liked her singing when they had come to visit British India.

Her friend, Catherine, was a sad sixteen-year-old, mourning the death of her parents. They had threatened the owners of telling law enforcement what was happening but they knew that they wouldn't do anything about it.

The other slaves ran to her screams but were faced with fear and did nothing besides revel in their powerlessness. Sheila sat there, her damp brown skin and greasy raven hair clinging to her shell of a body. She knew how this would end, knew that they would be feeble against the man–Edward J. Mason– but she was ready to clean Catherine’s wounds and reassure her that she would be alright.

“Oh, look at my slave, Sheila, so obedient! You never have to hurt her, Edward!”

The sadistic gray-haired man chuckled, kissing his wife.

“ And aren’t I glad, Penelope! We chose her when she was twelve, it has been seven years since, of course, she’d love us, this is why I love Indians! They always gift us with beauty and trust.”

They both glanced at the gaunt, starved girl before chuckling. The Mistress patted Sheila’s head and reached for a rake beside her, beckoning to the other slaves.

Penelope Mason was a woman no different from her husband. Many wives were afraid of their spouses but Penelope was a wife who had nothing but pride in her bones. The rake in Penelope’s hand was covered in blood, meant to whip the slaves that threatened their control and most times Sheila could willing block out the screeches and screams, but now she just felt angry, ready to beat the couple with no morals.

But she was stuck being useless to defend them.

Fear is a burden that was attached to her like a drug, and only withdrawal held her back from screaming her heart out.

Until she found a boy with the brightest blue eyes.

From what she’d heard, he was an outlaw.

Billy the Kid was infamous because he was the man who killed a sheriff months ago, and chased out of the state. It was a mystery how he gained the courage to return to New Mexico.

“ Who’re you?” The man questioned, his vibrant cobalt eyes gazing at her with hostility.

Sheila didn’t want to think more about the dominant color in his entire posture and frame. His clothes were darker than sin and brighter than the sun, but his eyes were the only thing she could pay attention to, causing her to ignore their proximity.

“ I am a slave, belonging to the Mason family.”

He tilted his head, shocked eyes analyzing their surroundings.

“ I didn’ ask what you were forced to be, I asked who you are.”

“ My name is Sheila, is that what you want?”

“ Huh, I’m Billy, but considerin’ the poster you were starin’ at a min’ ago, you already know that. But...how did you...No, how dare they have slaves!”

The dividers were made by @wandanatromanova

#billy the kid #tom blyth imagine #william h bonney #billy the kid imagine #tom blyth #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x fem!oc #billy the kid x oc

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whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell · 10 months

Text

Vatic - Chapter VI " Cardinal "

Series Description : The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister.

Chapter Description : Y/n Targaryen says goodbye to her sister, and finds herself in another dream at night.

Warnings : none in this chapter

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 1.9k

Y/n sat on top of a barrel that was likely full of mead or wine that had yet to be moved into the cellar of the kitchens , so it sat in the bailey of the Red Keep, and along with it, the princess, watching as men were readying the coach for Rhaenyra and her family. Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting and the guards that would be going to Dragonstone would go by ship. Baby Joffrey and his wetnurse would also go by ship, along with Lucerys and Jacaerys. Luke didn’t have full control of his dragon yet, while Jace did. But that didn’t matter. Arrax and Vermax were not yet large enough to be ridden. Rhaenyra and Laenor would be on dragonback to Dragonstone. Taking Syrax and Seasmoke, flying alongside Arrax and Vermax.

They’d go to Dragonstone, and Y/n would be left here.

That was how Rhaenyra found her. Sitting on the barrel, staring at the coach as though if she stared long enough it might catch fire.

The oldest daughter of king Viserys had always had a soft spot for her youngest sister. Y/n was told often how when she was just a newborn babe, she was a small thing. The smallest out of all of her siblings, and yet, the strongest. Screaming and kicking like a goat as she was handed off to her lady mother.

Y/n had been told by her elder sister that due to her mother’s weakened state after her labors, Y/n was frequently with her wetnurse and nursemaid. But she shared the same wetnurse and Jace, so Rhaenyra was frequently with both her newborn son and sister, and had taken quite the liking to her new half-sister.

“While I do believe that we are from the house of the dragon, I do not believe that means that we can set things afire with our minds.”

Y/n’s attention snapped behind her, where her sister stood, wearing an old dress since her bump had yet to go down.

Y/n stared at her sister in silence, the mournful feeling she had was nearly sickening. She did not wish to see her go, And yet, after this day, her sister would reside at Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra sighed, flattening her hands over her deflated bump as she approached the youngest princess, reaching one hand out to cup Y/n’s shoulder as she came to a stop. “What troubles you, sweet girl?”

Y/n looked from her sister to the coach. Still being loaded. “I want you to stay.” Y/n confessed. There was never any use in keeping secrets from her sister. Rhaenyra saw right through her, always. Anytime the young girl tried to keep a secret, or wanted to hide the fact that she’d done something she shouldn’t had, Rhaenyra always knew. In the same way that her lady mother always saw through Aegon. Sometimes Y/n wondered if Alicent was truly her mother. If there was any possible chance that Rhaenyra was her true mother. But Y/n knew it to be true that Alicent had been the one Y/n was sired upon.

“I’ll always write to you,” Rhaenyra suggested, her voice soft. As it always was when she directed her speech to Y/n. “I cannot stay here. I wish you to know that it pains me to leave you here among the vultures.” Y/n picked up on the lace of venom she gave to ‘vultures.’ Though, Y/n knew not who she referred to.

A brief silence overtook the two sisters, both of them observing the chests of belongings being packed away to take to the ship awaiting the crowned princess’ staff in Blackwater bay. There was a silent understanding between the two. This was ending something. Not just Rhaenyra’s residence in the Red Keep, but something deeper. Only a child, and Y/n felt it deep in her bones that nothing would be the same again.

Rhaenyra pulled her hand away from Y/n and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling something out. “I had the goldsmith make something for you.” She started, catching Y/n’s interest as she turned to look at her sister’s hands. Rhaenyra held out the gold pendant. It was large and thick, and the thin hinges on the side of it made it clear to Y/n it was a locket. Y/n’s smaller hands reached out and took it from her sister. The gold was ornately engraved with designs of branches and leaves, and the center of it, thin glass over a miniature painting of a red cardinal bird, soaring high.

Red.

“A parting gift. Though I suspect we will see one another soon enough after my departure.”

Y/n continued to stare at the necklace. The gold rope chain dangling from her small fingers and her index and thumb holding the pendant. “There aren’t any portraits in it. You should be the one to choose who you wish to keep close to your heart.” Y/n gave a small nod as she looked up to her sister.

“You will write to me once you arrive, won’t you?” Y/n questioned with a small voice, her eyes searching her sister for any clues. And in response, she received a look of adoration and a small nod.

“Absolutely.” Was Rhaenyra’s only response as she came to stand in front of her, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, holding her much like how her own mother would. “I’ll send you gifts every name day, every holiday, and perhaps just whenever I think of you, sweet girl.”

Y/n continued to stare up at her. Targaryen meeting Hightower eyes. But the rest of them were all the same. Targaryen hair, and features. To onlookers who were unfamiliar with the family of the king, they might assume that Y/n was Rhaenyra’s own child. She looked more like her half-sister than she did her mother or siblings. Yes, all five of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower’s children possessed silver hair, and four of them had the typical various shades of purple eyes, but Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron all looked like their mother’s family. They were Hightowers at heart. They all happily wore green and looked upon their nephews with distaste, but Y/n?

She longed for the freedom to wear her house colors, and to freely speak to her nephews as real children did. But she knew her mother’s politics would never allow it.

Not long after, Y/n had to say her final goodbyes to her sister and her family. The entire Targaryen family, save for Daemon’s. all standing out in the outer yard to see them off, however, Y/n’s mother was absent from the group.

And Y/n wasn’t foolish enough to not notice how all Aemond and Aegon did was saying goodbye, with hardly any pleasantries exchanged. Helaena had given Rhaenyra a short and obligatory hug, and Viserys had seen her off warmly, while Y/n had embraced her sister with such a grip that would put Maegor the Cruel to shame. She’d said her farewell to her nephews, and to Laenor, and within moments, Rhaenyra and her household were gone from the Red Keep.

She was asleep in her bed, Aemond adjacent to her, a book long forgotten in his arms as he snored, sleep had finally found him. While sleep had found her long ago. She’d peacefully fallen asleep in his arms while he read stories to her about ancient princes and princesses from the age of heroes. some from the Reach or the Riverlands, but Y/n’s favorites were about the Westerlands. Lann the Clever’s descendants, ever the problem for the people of the Westerlands.

And though those stories brought her comfort, the dreams she had every night didn’t.

Some nights, she saw a giant war hammer slamming into the armored chest of a man with all the force of a dozen men behind it. The armor was dark, wth rubies encrusted into it, in the shape of house Targaryen’s sigil. Those nights where she saw him, she always woke up right before his body hit the stream of water beneath him. The rubies flying through the air.

Some nights, she saw a young girl, with Valyrian blood no doubt. When she saw this girl, she had to have been no more than seven. Sitting by a window, leaning her head against her arms, silver waves cascading around her head, shoulders, and back, violet eyes taking in the lemon tree right outside her window. It was a window far away from King’s Landing. She wasn’t from Westeros.

Other nights would alternate from images of a young man, dark curly hair, and dark eyes. Sometimes he wore all black, like a brother of the Night’s Watch, or he wore a very large fur pelt cloak around his shoulder that swallowed his frame, making him look larger than he was. The white and black hilt of his sword peeking out from his cloak. And then others, she’d see a young woman, sometimes with her golden hair down and around her shoulder as befitting a young unmarried woman, wearing bright reds and golds, stags and lions embroidered on her gowns, and others? In others she stood with her head held high, hair pinned up, and out of the way, her gowns darker, made with heavier materials, and metal work intermingled with it. In some images of the young woman, she carried a sword, and in others she didn’t, and in others, she carried a child with her, dark curly hair atop the young child’s head, dark eyes always staring up at her mother with adoration and love, even as an infant.

This was one of those nights, Where she saw the young woman and the child. She recognized the scenery. It was the gardens of the Red Keep, where the large party stood and sat. The young woman wore green this time. Golden embroidery and patterns. A golden rose pin on each side of her hips. The young child was in the arms of the man next to her. dirty blonde curls around his face, and a very similar motif in his clothing as well. Tyrell.

“My dear sister. Tell me, do you like theater?”

The young woman turned her head to the boy next to her, and finally, Y/n could see his face. Golden hair just like the woman’s, he was adorned in black and gold, a golden crown atop his head. Its shape reminds Y/n of a stag’s antlers.

“I've never seen theater.” She responded curtly.

“Everyone! Silence!” He shouted, hitting his fork against his golden goblet to gain the supposed crowd’s attention. The young woman shook her head and looked away from her brother.

“Clear the floor. There’s been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not amusement, a royal wedding is history. Time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My Lords. . .”

It happened quickly, observing as the young woman took the child and handed her off to the older man next to her, likely the young man’s father based on the rose motif in their clothing.

“My Ladies. . . I give you, King Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy! The War of The Five Kings!”

It was interrupted.

The images of the young woman disappeared from her, being ripped away from her before she was ready, and very quickly, the sight was replaced with her maid’s face in front of her, sunlight blazing its way into the room from the windows.

“It is time to start the day, Princess.”

Add yourself to the taglist!!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @winxschester @blissfulbluenights @ghostlypineappl @dreaming-of-the-reality

#game of thrones fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon fic

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sweetbbyshion · 10 months

Text

wondering why (chapter 1)

-> Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x Fem!Reader

Summary: "How can I hit rewind so I could find a single reason why you would leave with no goodbye"

Touya walked into your life with no warning and settled himself in your heart. But how do you expect to build a relationship based on lies and betrayals?

warnings: mentions of abuse, blood and wound descriptions, mentions of alcohol, don't invite strangers into your home please

masterlist -> next chapter

Touya Todoroki was dead.

That's what Dabi repeated to himself every day in front of the broken mirror of his shitty bathroom. He went through hell and back in his old house and even years after he felt like he never left. The memory of his dad’s screams would wake him up in the middle of the night, ready to set the room on fire to protect himself from the man that was about to beat him up in his dream. Dabi felt pathetic whenever it happened. He wasn't a little kid anymore and Endeavor couldn't hurt him now but the nightmares never left him alone.

Dabi walked every day on this Earth on the verge of death. Heroes were always trying to get him, the League couldn't be trusted and even his own body wanted to destroy him. The embarrassing amount of times Dabi laid half dead in a dirty alley, crying because he felt like he was burning inside out, were too many to count.

His reflexion stares back at him, dry blood on his cheeks and he knows he would have dark circles under his eyes if his face wasn't all fucked up. His left side, just below his ribs, hurts and Dabi knows he should get some medical attention. Maybe the League should try to get someone with a medical quirk to work with them. He wonders if they could fix his burns. He asks himself if it was possible for him to live a normal life once again if his burns got healed totally.

A harsh knock on the door gets Dabi’s attention. Twice’s voice is heard outside the room, letting him know Shigaraki is waiting. Dabi is quick to clean his face before leaving. It hurts when he walks but he ignores the pain when he steps into the room, leaning against a wall to hear Shigaraki speak. It's a boring meeting and Dabi only hears that he has to kill somebody. He tried to make someone else go, “I have shit to do”, but he doesn't have much luck, Shigaraki is set on forcing Dabi to go.

So Dabi tries not to think about pain as he walks through the shadows, carefully following his target. It's dark, his hoodie doesn't do much to stop him from getting wet because of the rain and his left side still hurts. A sharp pain hits him and Dabi has to lean on the wall, holding his side as he bites his lip as hard as he can to not let out a noise. When he looks back up, his target is gone. He resists the urge to punch the wall he's leaning on and takes a deep breath, hissing when his side throbs. He isn’t in the mood to deal with Shigaraki right now so Dabi sits on the floor, head leaning back against the wall as his hand grabs his side. These were the times Dabi would think that maybe everything would be easier if he just got caught. There was no way the heroes would kill him, they are not like that, but would the torture he would have to endure worse than the life he is living right now? Is there much difference? At the end of the day, he is tired of running. But even if he regrets most of his life decisions, he doesn't regret escaping that hell. Even though he had to leave his siblings behind.

God, he wonders how they are doing. He wasn't strong enough to check on them after he left. He knows Shoto was studying to be a hero, he had the opportunity to see him when the League kidnapped one of his classmates. It was notorious how strong his younger brother had become. The burn mark around his eye got Dabi worried, he can only pray that Endeavor didn't do it. Besides that day, he never saw Shoto again. Or Natsuo and Fuyumi. He hopes that Natsuo isn’t still mourning him, that Fuyumi followed her dreams without anything holding her back. They were good kids, they certainly didn't deserve to live with Endeavor. Dabi really wants them to escape one day, like he did.

Dabi closes his eyes, feeling the cold rain cool his skin. Maybe everything will end today. It is hard to live so many years in pain, skin itching every moment of the day and his brain so fucked up to the point where Dabi doubts he could live a normal life. Despite everything, he isn't sure if he wants to die like this - alone in the rain, without someone holding his hand. He always knew love was too much for him but, somehow, he always thinks about it whenever he is close to dying. He doesn't expect someone to fall for him, not when he looks the way he does, not after all the shit he did and all the mental baggage he carries. Dabi doesn't deserve love or anything related to it but he can still dream about it; about a true love that would look past all of his flaws; about a warm touch holding him at night after another harsh nightmare; about someone who would listen and comfort him while he cries over his dad, his wounds, his choices. But no matter how much Dabi wants someone to love, he is still a villain. He doesn't deserve it.

“Are you ok?!” a gasp is heard and suddenly the rain isn't hitting him anymore. He opens his eyes and stares up. Dabi never believed in the afterlife, even if it didn't exist he would be still going to hell, but right now you look like an angel, holding a white umbrella that you moved to protect him from the rain. “I’m calling an ambulance.” You kneel beside him, clumsily trying to dial the number and hold the umbrella. Dabi quickly reaches for your wrist to stop you. “You can't call an ambulance. I can't be seen like this.” You look at him confused and try to convince him that going to the hospital would be better. “You have to promise me that you won't call for an ambulance.”

For some unknown reason, Dabi hates the sad look on your face. He almost tells you to call the damn ambulance just so that look goes away but he's interrupted by your hands grabbing his arm and trying to pull him up. Your hands are warm despite the cold, Dabi wants to pull you closer to feel more. “Come on. I live nearby.”. Dabi would laugh if it wasn't for the sharp pain on his side. Were you stupid? Must be if you're inviting a random stranger into your home. Still, Dabi lets himself get pulled up and you drop one of his arms around your shoulders. The white umbrella is forgotten on the floor as you take small steps, trying not to fall with the weight of the man on top of you. Dabi noticed how you got closer to him, perhaps trying to get a bit of his body heat because of the sheer cold and constant rain falling. Surprisingly, even for him, Dabi lets you (and if he makes his body temperature just a bit higher, that's for only him to know.).

“I could be a villain, you know?” he hinted. He wants to scream at you to get away, he can hurt you. You simply laugh, completely carefree as you keep leading him to your home.

As you mentioned before, your apartment really isn't that far away. You're on the first floor which makes things a lot easier, not having to carry Dabi for longer. He leans against a wall to let you unlock the door and quickly you're back to his side to help him. You make him sit on the couch, totally ignoring the fact that his blood will ruin it. He watches closely as you go back to lock the door and then sit next to him. Dabi barely registers your voice telling him to take off his shirt so you can see the wound. Surprisingly, even for him, he does what you told him but he regrets the moment your eyes widen at the sight of the dark purple wound on his side, visible even through his burn marks. Your fingertips touch it, so softly that he barely notices it.

“I don't know what to do.” you murmur, your eyes never leaving the wound with your fingers still caressing it like you want to take away the pain like that.

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“I couldn't let you stay there. What if you died?” you say, pulling back your hand. Dabi holds himself back not to grab your wrist and bring your hand to his body again.

“So you would rather I die here?” Dabi doesn't like the feeling he gets when you look up and your eyes are shining with unshed tears. Your lower lip trembles a bit and you reach for the phone in your pocket. He sees you type ‘how to treat bruises’ on google and he has to hold back a laugh. “I can just call my… friends and they’ll pick me up.” You look up from your phone, those tears still in your waterline, threatening to fall at any moment. You pass him your phone without any signs of reluctance and walk to the kitchen to give him some space.

Hesitantly, Dabi calls Shigaraki and, in a low voice, admits to his boss what happened and where he is right now. He finds himself borderline begging Shigaraki to not do anything to you, after all it didn't seem like you recognized him. Either way, they couldn't risk it anymore and someone aside from the main group was assigned to pick him up from the house. Dabi regrets giving your address as soon as he hangs up but he makes sure to let Shigaraki know that you should be left alone as soon as he sees him. Your head peeks to know if he is done and when you see the phone next to him on the couch, you make your way over holding a tray with sandwiches and a cup of water. You place it on the table in front of him and tell him to eat something before leaving.

“What's your quirk?” he asks curiously as he takes a bite of the sandwich.

You go back to playing with your hands and looking away as you reply “I don't have one.” Dabi almost chokes on the food going down his throat, eyes wide when he looks at you. He thought that maybe you had a strong quirk, that was the only reason you would bring a stranger into your safe place. But now, he is sure that you're really stupid if you brought him here without even having a quirk. “What's… what's yours?”

“Blue flames,” he mutters.

“Woahhhh.” you breathe out. “That's such a strong quirk. Are you a pro-hero?”

This time Dabi really laughs, ignoring the pain on his side. A pro-hero, sure. “You could say that.” He jokes. To be fair, he was doing everyone a favor so he might as well be considered a hero. You stare intensely at him and for a second Dabi thinks you might have recognized him. But, as he pays more attention, he realizes that your eyes are kind and soft. It's more or less like you're memorizing his face, making sure you get everything. He looks at you with the same intensity, Dabi thinks he doesn't want to forget about you either, for some odd reason. You're about to say something more when a knock on the door catches both of your attentions. Dabi quickly gets up, he doesn't want you meeting anyone else from the League. “Hey.” he calls out for you, hand on the doorknob. “Thank you.”

With those final words, Dabi leaves through the door. As he walks to the car with one of the League's villains, he wishes he could see you again. It's probably impossible and dangerous. You were so nice to him that he can't imagine what he would do to himself if you got hurt because of him. But months pass before he sees you again.

The next time you see the man happens five months after the first encounter.

You figured that he would look for you once he got better, there was a connection there that you thought he felt too but apparently you were wrong. You know it was dangerous to let a stranger inside your house but you felt something. Your gut was telling you (more like screaming) that you could trust him.

Even though you missed him, for some strange reason, you didn't try to look for him either. How could you when you didn't even know his name. You caught yourself passing by the alley multiple times, in hope that you would find him again but that wasn't successful. Then, you pondered about asking your friends but there was always something holding you back. So you chose to stay still and continue to live your life, in hopes that you would see the dark haired man once again.

Your routine was the same as always. Wake up, go to university, study, go back home, sleep. Sometimes you would break the monotonous routine just to hang out with a couple of friends but most of the times, you just wanted to go home, lay in bed and spend the rest of the day wondering what went wrong in your life that made you unable to have enough social battery to hang out with people that genuinely like you. A part of you screamed that maybe you were hoping that the man would go back to your house and you wanted to be there to see him. You feel as if you live everyday waiting to see the man that made your life a bit more interesting.

The meeting happens out of nowhere. It's a late Tuesday afternoon, the sun is setting in the horizon and you're walking to a nearby café to meet up with a couple of friends before going out for dinner with them. Your eyes are set on your phone as you quickly text the group chat that you're almost there. Before you are even able to send the text, a hand covers your mouth and pulls you to the familiar alley. You try to scream for help, squirming in their embrace but to no avail. Before you can start punching the person that decided to kidnap you, they turned you around swiftly. The scream dies in your throat when you see the recognizable blue eyes. He lets you go with a chuckle, watching you stutter a few words and in a mental fight with yourself to decide whether or not you should hug him.

“Your name!” You blur out, making you want to hit yourself. “What's… your name?”

The man stays quiet for a bit, you can't read his expression but you wait patiently for an answer. “Touya.”

Touya. The pretty man you met finally has a name. Touya. You catch yourself repeating the name in a murmur, hearing how it rolls off your tongue. You tell him your name and he does the same. You never liked someone saying your name as much as you liked Touya saying your name. You want to keep hearing it, you want to hear his voice, even if it's just random thoughts that come to his mind; you never want him to shut up.

“How's your wound?” You decide to ask before you say something you shouldn't say out loud. Touya simply grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls up, just enough to show you the area where the nasty bruise was. It's totally healed, as you expected to be after five months. He doesn't keep his shirt up for long but it's long enough for your heart to skip a beat at the sight of the naked skin and short enough to not let you reach out and touch him like you did back at your house. You look back at him, observing the blue eyes that pull you in every time you look at them. It always feels like he can see all of your secrets but you don't look away, ever. You let yourself be the most vulnerable you have ever been whenever he looks at you like that.

Your phone ringing drags you out of your moment with Touya. One of your friends is calling and you see that you're already late to meet them. You wish you were selfish enough to cancel on them just so you could talk to Touya a bit more, but you can't be that person. You look at the man standing in front of you with an apologetic smile. “I have to go.” you whisper, if you said it too loud it would make it too real and you don't want to think about leaving Touya after seeing him again after months.

He nods, understanding and places his hand on your head ruffling your hair a bit. “Don't look so sad. How about I pass by your house tomorrow night?”

You're certain that your eyes shine with excitement as you nod repeatedly. “I’ll be waiting for you.” You say, again denying a call from your friends as you send a quick text saying you're almost there. “See you, Touya.” He waves as you start running to the café. Your hair is a mess and you're out of breath the moment you meet your friends but you couldn't feel happier, your heart beating so fast to the thought of Touya going to your house tomorrow. Your friends question you but you don't answer, just letting them know something unexpected happened and it took you longer to get there. They eventually let it go as the night passed by but you couldn't stop thinking about Touya.

Time was taking too long to pass, you wanted it to skip to tomorrow night just so you could see Touya again. Maybe it would be a good idea if you asked him for his number.

The night passes slowly, you barely pay attention to the conversations as you keep reminding Touya’s touch. You still felt a tingling sensation on your body from when he grabbed you. Were you in love after meeting him merely two times? You couldn't be, right? You only just learned his name but you have never felt so interested in someone like you were interested in Touya. There was something about the man that kept pulling you in, that made you want to learn more about him. For some reason, something inside you kept telling you he was hiding something but you chose to ignore it. If you tried to look into it too much, you would certainly ruin the image you have of Touya and it would all stop feeling like a fairytale. Your heart aches at the thought.

Your friends invite you to go to a club after. You try to come up with an excuse but they can be persuasive. At the end, you accept the request but you tell them you won't be staying long. Luckily, the club isn't that far away from your house either so you let yourself drown a couple of drinks with your friends, letting your body loose on the dance floor. Nonetheless, you kept looking around the room in hope that you would see Touya.

Maybe if your life was a movie, he would, coincidentally, show up at the club. You would dance together, his hands holding your waist as he keeps saying he can't dance. You would throw your arms around his shoulders, getting a little bit of confidence due to the alcohol, and swing him from side to side so he’s dancing with you. That would make Touya laugh, so carefree and beautiful that it would leave you hypnotized. At the end of night, he would start blaming your actions on the alcohol and would make it his responsibility to take you home and make sure you got there safe. You would be sobered up by the time you're almost home. Touya would notice you're cold and he would lend you his jacket, then throw his arm around you to bring you close. You wouldn't kiss him when you got home but you would peck his cheek and watch him blush as you close your door. But, obviously, that won't happen because by the time you decide to leave, around four in the morning, Touya is nowhere to be seen and you're left walking back home alone, in the cold night.

You struggle to unlock the door, your hands shaking just like your whole body. You fumble a bit with the keys until you finally hear the click signaling the door is unlocked. You push it open and get in, discarding your shoes as you lock the door behind you. If it was any other occasion, you would simply change clothes and go to bed but you can't afford getting sick when Touya is visiting tomorrow. So you push yourself to take a warm shower and drink some tea before putting on the warmest pajamas you own and hide under the covers, not letting any cold in. You fall asleep like you spent the whole night - thinking about Touya and the few moments you shared with him. You fall asleep creating all kinds of scenarios for the next day, what you can say or do and how to react depending on what Touya will say or do. You were excited yet terrified because of how fast you were falling for this guy you barely knew; even more scared that it wouldn't be reciprocated.

#kora posts!#dabi x reader #dabi angst #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia angst #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi #mha dabi #mha touya #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki angst #touya angst

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sanjisprincesswifey · 2 years

Note

hi!! i just saw that you had your requests open for your 500+ followers event, and a major congrats for that!! i’ve read your pieces over and over the past while, and i absolutely adore them! you write so beautifully💗

that being said, would it be okay to request prompt number 18 for sanji? my preferred pronouns are they/them btw 🫣 a small detail i would love if you would add: the reader being the one to say this to sanji, perhaps after a certain event had happened (so that this fluffy dialogue/drabble would only depict the aftermath)! the idea of him being protected by someone instead of always being the protector is just DELICIOUS. one of my favorite things about sanji is the fact that he’s not so affected by toxic masculinity so as to think of himself beyond saving, and i would adore it if you could incorporate that into the drabble.

i hope this isn’t too much or too descriptive; i’d hate to make things difficult for you. hope you have a wonderful week, and i hope you keep nurturing that incredible talent of yours!!💗💗

note: :,) your sweet words make me swoon sm<3 your brain is so big and you're an absolute genius, when my requests open back up PLEASE request something again because the detail you provide is just *chefs kiss* it's beautiful and you and i could create such beautiful stories together

♡: gender neutral reader. 400+ words. content warnings: angsty and mentions of blood and wounds. sfw content.

”sanji! look out!” you scream, darting to push him out of the line of fire. his body was weak, after having fought marines for hours on end it would drive anyone to the brink of unconsciousness. normally, your body has little force up against sanji’s, but in his condition, he collapses to the ground.

sanji watches in utter terror as a bullet flies right through you, blood spewing from your mouth. with eyes wide, he reaches out to you, his own wounds causing him to mutter a low groan.

“y/n…no,” he whimpers, his vision blurring before he can grab your hand. sanji falls to the ground with a thud, his head lying on your chest.

.。･:*:･

with a cold sweat running over his body, sanji’s eyes peel open. the bright light burning them as his whole-body aches in pain.

“sanji! don’t try to get up, your wounds—”

“y/n. where are they? where’s y/n?” he demands, ignoring chopper’s orders completely.

chopper steps back, glancing to the corner of the room where you lay in a bed. blood bags hang next to you and a steady heart monitor beeps rhythmically. with no concern for his own safety, he leaps out of his bed, kneeling next to your own.

your hand is warm like they always were, but instead of interlacing your fingers together, as you always did, they remained flat against his. he presses kisses against your tender skin, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“my sweet angel, why? why did you save me? look at what happened to you,” he cries, laying his head down next to you.

you begin to stir in your sleep, bringing your hand to run through sanji’s hair and then rest on his cheek. “because you’re mine. and i protect what’s mine,” you mumble, voice raspy from your slumber.

sanji lets out a mournful sob, gripping tighter onto your hand. “i’m sorry— i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you,” he weeps, smothering himself further within your touch. his scraggly facial hair tickles your skin as you pull him toward you with ease.

he climbs into bed with you, his head resting on your chest as your shirt soaks up his salty tears. “shh, shh don’t be sorry. i love you, so i protect you,” you smile, kissing the top of his head.

your words only cause sanji to break into more sobs, but they aren’t of pain or of agony anymore. he holds onto you tighter knowing that for the first time in his life, he was loved.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#black leg sanji #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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beardedmrbean · 7 months

Text

When Boubacar Touré and his flatmates heard a sudden, thundering crash beside their apartment, they thought it was an earthquake. But then they opened the windows of their kitchen, where they were cooking dinner, and one shouted: "A bus has fallen."

"We ran down to the spot where the bus was on fire and I heard a woman screaming, 'My baby, my baby,'" 27-year-old Boubacar, who is from The Gambia says, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"I managed to pull her through the window and then pulled out her son, who was badly burnt but still alive."

The bus, carrying tourists back to a nearby campsite after a day in the historical centre of Venice, had been driving along a busy overpass when it suddenly careened off the side on Tuesday evening. It smashed through the barriers and plunged several metres towards a railway track where it burst into flames.

At least 21 people died. Of the 15 who are injured, most remain in intensive care. Some of the victims were children, including a baby.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of distressing scenes

Among the dead are nationals from seven countries, the Venice mayor's office says, including Ukraine, Germany, Romania and Portugal.

Boubacar describes how he grabbed the fire extinguisher from the bus to help quell the flames - but that wasn't enough.

"Passers-by were giving me other extinguishers but nothing helped, we had to wait for the firefighters", he recalls. "So I pulled others to safety, a woman and a man and a child. People were bleeding from their heads, there was so much blood."

His flatmate, Odion Eboigbe from Nigeria, was with him, pulling others through the wreckage of the mangled vehicle - an electric-powered bus whose batteries are thought to have caught fire.

"We were able to save many but unfortunately others died", he says.

"I wasn't scared, I didn't think of my own safety because I saw people with their heads split open. Today my colleagues asked me: 'what were you thinking when you went towards the flames,' and I told them I just had to save the women and children."

Once emergency workers arrived, they spent hours dousing the flames and helping the injured.

The fire was so intense that DNA samples will need to be used to identify some of the dead.

At the spot on the overpass where the bus took its final catastrophic turn, the guard-rails are smashed apart and fragments of glass lie on the tarmac. A passer-by has laid yellow flowers.

Authorities say there was no sign of a sudden braking by the bus. Indeed, CCTV from the moment before the crash shows the vehicle steadily climbing the overpass and then apparently slowing down before inexplicably toppling against the barriers and off to the side.

The driver, Alberto Rizzotto, had worked for the bus company for seven years. The most likely cause, say the authorities, is that he had a sudden medical problem that made him lose control. In his last Facebook post, he said he was "running a shuttle to Venice."

Relatives of the victims have started arriving in Venice from abroad. Among the injured are nationals of Ukraine, Germany, Croatia and Spain.

According to local media, they include two German brothers, aged 7 and 13, who lost both their parents. There were "entire families, grandparents, grandchildren, spouses" on board, said Chiara Berti from the Angelo di Mestre hospital.

The tragedy has already raised questions about the state of the barriers on the overpass, which were clearly rusting and aged.

Domenico Musicco, the head of an association for road accident victims, called it "a tragedy foretold".

"Italian road maintenance is poor. Too little is invested in road safety. It is estimated that 30% of accidents are down to that," he told the news agency AFP.

Venice has declared three days of mourning for a tragedy that has profoundly shaken this city.

Boubacar and Odion say they haven't slept since the crash.

When I put it to them that some would call them heroes, they shrug. "If saving people makes you a hero, then maybe", says Boubacar.

"But when somebody needs help because they're dying, you can't just walk away."

#nunyas news #need some crowns over here y'all

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madness-in-the-flesh · 2 years

Note

I really like your blog. Can I have Auditor (if your okay with doing him if not Hank) with prompt 14? Have a great day!

Slowly realizing I STILL haven't written any Auditor??? Which is disgraceful?? Thank you for requesting him anon. I adore evil flame man. I believe in employer supremacy

This one is pretty short which I apologize for but I've got one bigger request coming up soon so hopefully that'll make up for it <3 <3

Auditor Prompt Drabble

GENRE - Romantic / Platonic

PROMPT - “ Darling why are you crying? I took care of the problem!” [ From this prompt list ]

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Physical Violence, Tongue injury, Kidnapping implied , Blades, Blade violence, Blood, gore descriptions, murder, possible suicide implied

“ Darling, Why are you crying? I took care of the problem!” He told you, Slowly placing a hand on your shoulder but you couldn't say a word. In reality there was no problem, The Auditor was just delusional. You flinched away, holding your mouth in horror which made him pause. His hand stayed in the position but fingers slightly outstretched. You cowered away from him. The blood dripping from the blade didn't make it any easier to even attempt to hold eye contact.

" I see " he spoke, audible displeasure draining from his tongue with every word. Just the drip, drip, dripping down, similarly to the puddle of crimson under the two of you. A new stain to remind you just exactly why you could not fight back nor just leave. Wherever you'd try to go, He would follow, find you and drag you back kicking and screaming. Personal experience had taught you that much so you'd defy him in every single way possible. He had given you rules but you could not obey. The agreement was that if you were allowed to roam, However he was the only one you could look at. Only be caught staring at him, talking to no one but him except that just made you feel horrid. He was supposed to be your one and only in his mind, ergo: you only needed him.

There wasn't a problem with you talking to other people: Socializing with others was a normal part of being a grunt. The species as a whole were a social species - genetically inclined to group together. Living in a community, or in this case: The organization of the A.A.H.W. You needed to talk to people to get around. It started small, simply with asking directions. You were testing the waters. How much could you get away with? The barrier would be broken soon enough as you soon began to get chummy with one of the agents. It was the one guarding you, Shades as red as the Auditor's own eyes. He was a nice enough guy, Never gave too much away about himself. This was most likely at the auditor's request, although on the other hand, he was a pleasant conversationalist. Never refusing you anything, again at the Auditor's request so when he saw the look on your face. The smile you gave that agent while he remained stone faced infuriated him.

He was just doing his job only to be killed by his employer. Right in front of you. Nevertheless, You continued onto the next one and the next one, until the bodies were built up high. You cared about each and every one of them. You weren't heartless and had spent nights mourning them.

You refused to let them die in vein.

He was cruel, but you were stubborn. Continuing to defy him at every turn, nothing ever went his way no matter how much he tried to be " nice ". Until he had enough. Enough of giving you chances, physically killing all those who he assumed had been the ones tricking you into talking with them. Living in the delusion that they were the problem. Up until it finally shattered. He realized the common denominator in these situations. It had to be you. When he did, Instead of someone else meeting his blade with a swift clean cut to the neck. He gripped your own tongue and sliced it from your own body. You barely registered what was happening before it was too late.

The muscle spasmed in a pool of your own blood. No matter how hard you tried to cover your mouth, the bleeding wouldn't stop. It poured out your mouth along with your own throat. You couldn't taste it anymore though but the smell of iron was overwhelming. Enough to make you throw up. The Auditor just stood there, watching with an annoyed expression. As if cutting off your tongue was simply a minor set back.

" I gave you enough chances. I will not be reattaching the limb until you have proven yourself " He said and walked away, leaving your own blood to pool around you. Finally falling to your knees. For the first time you cried for yourself, before you'd cried for others but you were so sure that you'd get away in the end. That you'd be the victor in the horrific situation fate had placed you in but maybe you wouldn't be. Maybe you had been the delusional one all this time. Had you have just been resigned to your fate, perhaps things wouldn't have ended up like this.... Or you could take a new approach and try drowning yourself in your own blood, as one final act of defiance.

#yandere madness combat #yandere madness combat x reader #madness combat #madness combat x reader #the auditor #cw yandere #cw blood #cw gore #cw physical abuse #cw blade violence #cw injury #cw tongue injury #cw kidnapping implied #cw suicide implied

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honestlyboringperson · 1 year

Text

Name: Angelica Atchikita

Age: 15

Wish: “Can… can you cure my amnesia? So I don’t lose all my memories?”

Magic: Memory Manipulation

Weapon: Flip Phone

Likes: Gacha Games, Bento Boxes

Dislikes: Going Outside

Element: Light

Magia: Change the Channel

Teammates: Qin, Maria

Skill Level: Newbie

Witch/Doppel: H.N. Elly (Kirsten)

Former Idol known as “Ange” on stage, now a reclusive and socially awkward NEET. She almost never comes out of her apartment unless it is to witch hunt. Wheelchair bound, as she has lost use in her legs. She enjoys video games of all types and is almost spends all her time, on a computer.

BACKSTORY

Angelica, or better known as “Ange” on stage was an idol popular everywhere in Japan, she was in countless shows, advertisements, and in numerous songs. She was in every screen and poster and had countless fans.

However, during a show at a port carnival, a flash flood occurred, with hail and rain nailing upon the ground. She was not able to evacuate in time and a prop above her malfunctioned and fell on her head.

She developed amnesia and lost usage in her legs, and was beginning to lose more and more memories until all her memories of being “Ange” was gone. As she rolled outside the hospital in her wheelchair, surrounded by posters of her, she was approached by Kyubey and made the wish to no longer lose her memories.

She was discharged a few days later, but billions were recognizing her as the poor poor idol “Ange” but not Angelica. She became increasingly uncomfortable in her life as she was surrounded by reminders of the life she once had, and she felt like Ange died.

This came to a head when she was surrounded by people shouting, pushing, trampling her out of her wheelchair asking the same question; “Will you be going back to show biz Ange?” She was terrified and these unknown people shoved microphones and cameras in her face and was nearly trampled.

When the authorities came, the damage was done and Angelica receded into a Hikkikomori, never coming out of her room. She would watch hours upon hours of her performances, wondering where Ange went. She often hung her head in shame and she read all of these comments stating how they will miss Ange and mourn her. Everyday, the same cycle would happen, day in day out, people would remember the shining idol Ange, but not the girl Angelica.

One day, she finally got out with her caretaker to a carnival, and had a merry go round that she rode again and again under a disguise. She thought she wanted to go again and bring a bento next time. But a sudden speed bump knocked her disguise off and she was once again swarmed by fans, kicking and screaming. Her soul gem went black and she became a witch.

The last thing she saw was memory after memory, searching for “Kirsten” but only finding “H.N. Elly”

Doppel Description

“I can’t remember anything can I?”

The doppel of coveting. It takes the form of a box. The master of this emotion desires the memories that everyone possesses before a horrible accident occurred. The doppel enhances the master’s innate ability to view and tamper with memories tenfold, allowing it to change and rearrange multiple memories and even create false ones and induce amnesia, but the doppel is too busy looking for any memories of the master before the accident to use it’s terrifying power. Although the doppel does not morph the entire head of the master, it is connect directly to her brain, and if attacked, it can cause cerebral hemorrhaging, so the master must take caution in summoning her doppel.

#madoka magica #madoka magica witch #magia record #pmmm witches #magia record oc #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm oc #pmmm #pmmm witch #puella magi chronicles

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flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

You are safe now

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Aemond • Targaryen x widow! • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, violence, death threats, murder, obsession, swearing ]

[ description: She is married to a man whom she doesn't not love, but he is murdered after a few months. She knows that someone from the Red Keep must have done it and suspects the one-eyed prince who has been watching her for a long time. Angst, violence, mad, dark Aemond. ]

This is the last oneshot from the Halloween series. Thank you all for reading my oneshots and I hope you liked them! 🎃🎃🎃

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

____

She was married to this man for exactly four months and five days. She had sworn to him in the Great Sept that she would be his because that was what her father and mother had decreed. She did not want this marriage; her lord-husband was ten years older than her.

He tried to give her pleasure in bed, he tried to touch her, to kiss her breasts and her space between her thighs before he entered her, but all she felt was disgust, her body rejected him, she was not attracted to him and that frustrated him.

He hit her for the first time when she asked him if she could sleep separately, that she was not getting enough sleep by his side, wanting in fact to keep their intimacy to a minimum.

He then slapped her in rage saying that he was her lord-husband, that she was disrespectful to him, that despite his best efforts she still abhorred him.

She could not say why this was the case.

Her husband was one of the King's advisors, so their lives went on in the Red Keep, where she walked around with her bruised cheek, pretending not to see the bewildered stares and whispers of the people at court.

It was impossible for her not to notice him.

He always trained with Ser Criston at exactly noon, and it was then that she went for a walk in the garden, taking advantage of her husband's absence.

It was the only place where she found peace.

She felt his cold gaze escorting her away, felt that she had aroused his interest, his desire, but she had no intention of angering her husband even more.

She was tired.

A few days later she found him, his body covered in blood, lying on their bed, someone had stabbed him in the stomach and chest at least ten times.

She screamed loudly, terrified, calling for help, even though she knew there was nothing that could be done.

Putting on her black mourning gown, she felt remorseful that she was relieved to be a free woman again, knowing that he was actually not a bad person and loved her in his own way.

However, she did not understand what the reason for the murder was, the king had launched an investigation, but no one admitted anything, the servants had seen nothing.

She was convinced that it was someone from within, a resident of the keep.

She heard movement in her chamber one night and shuddered, feeling cold sweat on her back. She swallowed loudly, terrified, rising slowly, turning over her shoulder with her heart pounding hard, and saw him, sitting like a statue, pale and cold, his white hair making him look like a ghost, his healthy, bright eye wide open.

"I knew it was you." She mumbled in a trembling voice, wondering if he was some kind of madman, if he would do the same to her now.

He remained silent, however, and continued to stare at her.

She wondered if she should shout or run to the door of her chamber and glanced in that direction, but she heard his sound, from which she felt a chill in her chest.

"Tsk-tsk."

She swallowed loudly, glancing at him again, wondering what he wanted from her, feeling her whole body shudder in accelerated, raspy breaths.

"Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, and he grinned in a way that made her think he was really about to kill her.

"Because I had a whim." He replied coolly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes stretched dangerously across his face, the first time she had ever heard his voice, deep, assured, slightly hoarse.

He stood up abruptly and she flinched in her seat, wanting to pull herself up.

"No. Sit." He said lowly, she stared at him with wide eyes unsure what to do, she felt her heart in her throat.

"− please −" She mumbled with difficulty, and he sneered seeing the look on her face.

"− did he ever give you fulfilment? − he looked like a man who preferred to slap a woman when she didn't come − tell me the truth − you are safe now −" He said nonchalantly, and she raised a shocked look at him, licking involuntarily her lips dry of stress, analysing quickly what he had said.

For how long had he been watching her.

"− I've come to give you what you need −" He gasped, pulling out a short dagger hidden in the sleeve of his jacket, not a trace of any emotion in his eyes, they shone with a utter, dangerous emptiness.

"− are you talking about taking me by force? −" She asked shakily, wondering where she had got so much courage to speak to him in such a way, and he raised his eyebrows, amused.

"− oh no, you misunderstood me −" He said with a slight mockery in his voice, climbing onto her bed, pressing the blade of his dagger to her neck.

"− you'll give yourself to me of your own free will, because you're a smart, pretty girl − aren't you? −" He asked softly, almost tenderly, and she nodded quickly, thinking only of him not killing her, that she wanted to live so badly, her lower lip began to twitch, she felt she was about to burst out crying.

He huffed, sighing, shaking his head.

"− why these tears? − come here − I'm not going to hurt you −" He said sitting up, pulling her to him by her shoulder with his free hand, laying down on his back, forcing her to sit on his thighs, the blade of his dagger at her neck the whole time.

"− sit on my face −" He said calmly, looking at her with a glint in his eye, and she shook her head, disbelieving what he was hearing, thinking he was mocking her.

"− w-what? − I −"

"− fucking do it − all I've been thinking about for months is that no one's ever licked that cunt properly before −" He gasped, and she swallowed loudly, for some reason feeling a strong throbbing between her thighs and wetness at his words, her cheeks red, her heart pounding like mad.

Gods, he meant it.

She felt the blade of his knife pressed dangerously close to her skin, showing how impatient he was with her hesitation.

She raised herself up on trembling hands, moving higher, and felt him slide down between her thighs, surrounding her womanhood with his hot breath. She gasped loudly for air, feeling relieved that he took his hand with his blade and clenched it painfully tight against her thigh.

She thought this was her chance, that she should now get up quickly and hit him over the head with her knee, she wanted to do it, but almost screamed when she felt his rough tongue force its way inside her, sliding in and out of her in quick, fluid motions, rubbing against her upper wall and the point which made her lose touch with reality for a moment.

"− ah − gods −" She mumbled, leaning her hand against the back of the bed in front of her, his hands tightening on her buttocks, she felt the cold of his blade against her hot skin, heard the slurping sound of his tongue, the loud clicks of his saliva.

She was surprised and ashamed at how squeaky and pathetic sounds she began to make of herself every time she felt him deliberately licking that wonderful point hidden between her muscles, from which shivers ran through her, she felt heat in her lower abdomen and a pleasant tickling, a feeling she had not known before.

She felt that she was all wet and he obviously noticed it too, because he purred low as if in satisfaction, licking everything that flowed out of her as if he was really waiting for it, his long nose teasing her pearl with every lick of his.

She thought with embarrassment that this was pleasurable, that perhaps she would wait a moment longer before running away, she began to move her hips slowly, rising and falling on his tongue, feeling how wonderfully it enhanced her sensations and she moaned, sensing that something was approaching.

She cried out loudly, surprised when he suddenly sped up, she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against the wooden backrest of her bed, whimpering, rocking her hips up and down, clenching her eyes shut, feeling how hard her nipples had become, her insides clenching around nothing.

"− I − oh − oh, Gods, please −" She mewled, parting her lips wide and clenching her eyes, surprised and horrified at how she was suddenly shaken by a wave of heat and overpowering pleasure, she felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

She listened with embarrassment, moaning loudly as he licked with a loud slurp everything that flowed out of her.

What was this?

Was this what a woman's pleasure looked like?

She felt his fingers on her hips loosen after a moment, and she jumped away from him, covering her thighs with her nightgown, panting loudly, looking at him with her eyes wide open, surprised, terrified and unsure of what had actually happened.

He licked his lips looking at her with satisfaction, wiping his face with his free hand.

"− fucking knew it −" He grinned, lifting himself off her bed in a light, unhurried motion, playing with his dagger between his fingers. He looked at her and smirked in a way that sent shivers through her.

"You will come to me yourself." He hummed and simply walked out of her chamber, leaving her alone.

She fell back on her bedding, panting heavily, convincing herself in her head that she had only done it because she was afraid of dying, because he had threatened her, that it was rape.

That she hadn't thought of running after him at all.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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froggyworlds · 2 years

Note

Ship of Theseus AU 👁👁

alrighty, tw for memory loss, medical horror, and general Bad Vibes in the best way

official AU description: "Marcy doesn't exist anymore, simple as that. (Except it's not simple, because she does, it just isn't Marcy.)"

yes I threw every possession trope I could think of into one AU, what's it to you

so it starts with Marcy needing to get a few more body parts replaced while she's in the rejuvenation tank. I refuse to believe Amphibian tech is powerful enough to help you regrow a spine.

between her new metal spine, the nanofluid she has instead of blood, the wires she has instead of some nerves, and the fact that when she gets the wetsuit switched out for armor she probably doesn't have skin underneath the exosuit in some places... yeah, O&Y goes... a bit differently.

because augmentations had already been made to her body, Marcy fresh out of the pickle jar isn't quite Marcy at all. she's not the Core, but her mind is mostly empty space. her memories are, bit by bit, being removed and replaced. even so, she still remembers Anne and Sasha (just barely).

the Core doesn't conjure up any nightmares for her like it does for Yunan and Olivia, because it knows she's not going to react and she's as good as theirs.

she doesn't fight the helmet because she doesn't remember how. the scream has no emotion behind it besides pain.

(there are a bit more wire implants in her brain than in canon, too.)

the minds in the Core are also a lot more mixed together. it's a slightly more neutral entity (it sees conquering worlds as a necessity, and gets no real emotion or pride from it) and to help combat the general greed of the Leviathan consciousnesses within it, numbs down emotions. it's still extremely intelligent, just more mechanical in its functions than canon.

whatever's left of Marcy's hollow psyche is assimilated into the Core when the helmet falls, smothered beneath millennia of code and artificial intelligence and programming.

the Darcy persona we're familiar with (the sadistic, "quirky" one) does exist for a while, at least until Marcy's muscle memory fades along with everything else, and then its replaced with a cold, calculating machine, rigid and yet unnaturally graceful and very much not human.

there is no real "freeing" Marcy because there isn't any "Marcy" left to free. because the Core is more neutral, Anne and Sasha and even Andrias can persuade it that there are better ways to restore Amphibia, but they aren't getting their friend back, because their friend is dead.

the Core tried to rummage through whatever files it had saved of Marcy's memories, but there was never enough to bring her back. everything it tried was Wrong somehow, even though there was still a tiny sliver of Marcy left - one of naive curiosity and a longing for warm arms and warmer smiles.

Anne and Sasha were in denial for a while. they wanted to believe that Marcy was back, and the thing that used to be Marcy wanted her to be back, too. but eventually, they were forced to accept it, and they finally let themselves mourn.

(when they were little, Anne gave Sasha and Marcy a friendship necklace with only two parts instead of three. "it's my heart," she explained. "I'm giving half of it to each of you." they buried Marcy's half of the necklace in lieu of a body.)

even the Core - the thing that had caused this, the thing that supposedly felt no emotion and saw everything as a necessary sacrifice in the grand scheme of things - allowed itself to cry for the loss, just once, when no one was around.

hey, at least Amphibia still has a moon.

#ship of theseus au #amphibia au #mythic's aus #marcy wu #the core #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #andrias leviathan #darcy #tw body horror #tw medical horror #tw memory loss

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talentforlying · 6 months

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@thedipshits: 🎵 – one song you just recently found & 🎵 – one song that's been a long-time favorite! (: — SONGS I LOVE

francis - haley heynderickx, max garcía conover! found this last week, and i was just talking a minute ago about how there's something absolutely freaky about constantine that's easy to pick up on no matter what disguise he's wearing: a sort of 'nothing left to lose' deadness that lingers on the edge of perception at all times.

yeah you had a place in the kingdom kid / yeah the pretty people are so easy to forgive / but there's something on your skin that you can't get clean / there's a fawn in the fence that you can't get free / so you're asking everybody who they think they really are / and you feel a little better till the sky goes dark / and the ghosts / yeah but you already know

i think the overall tone of this song really captures that underlying unease that comes with being in his presence when he's not masking thoroughly enough, and then the lyrics also address how he likes to expose other people's ugliness, not because it'll save the people around them, but because it makes him feel better to know that he's not the only fucked-up person around.

dream a little dream of me - the mamas & papas! now when i say long-time favorite, i mean this specific cover was one of the lullabies my parents played for me as a little kid SHDJK but it's also the title of constantine's initial sandman appearance! it's very dear to me, and also very bittersweet in a constantine context because it reminds me so much of the last time he and kit saw each other, when she was leaving in the middle of the night and he stopped just short of telling her he loved her:

stars fading but i linger on, dear / still craving your kiss / i'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear / just saying this

this song reminds me that he is very lonely at heart, and that the kindest thing he thinks he can leave people is a memory that isn't bad. and the likelihood of him succeeding in that tends to be very slim.

+ 2 songs for doyle, because i love him: anybody else - dom fera! the sheet ghost album cover vibes in my mind with your description of the magic 8 ball & prophetic visions, and the picture you use for his bio makes me picture him chilling in his office and then getting jumpscared by the ghost in the song just chatting with him.

she said, i'm screaming warnings, dressed like mournings / black tattoos, doing voodoo, pouring / out together in any weather you'll come

and then necromancin' dancin' - bear ghost also feels very fun for him! idk why exactly, the vibes are just on. it's also just an absolute banger, so there's that!

#thedipshits #( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#( answered. ) THIS IS JOHN CONSTANTINE. FUCK OFF.

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fleur-de-violette · 2 years

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To the ones who are alive, and the ones who are there

A3O

Summary : Dick had been found dead, his body floating in Gotham Bay, hours before.

This could just be a simple story if he wasn’t banging on the door of Jason’s apartment.

Or: When you wake up in a morgue, the first person to go see is your resurrected little brother.

Whumptober 2020 day 31: experiment, left for dead

Note: And this will be the last one for whumptober 2020! It took a year and half for a one month challenge but I’m proud I finished it!

Warning for discussion of death, resurrection and grief.

Hope you’ll enjoy the fic!

Jason should do something. Anything.

He should go back to the manor. He should see if Tim, Cass, and Damian are okay. He should check that Bruce isn’t getting himself or others in harm’s way.

He should scream and punch something. He should get up, get out there, and tirelessly hunt the assholes who did this to his brother.

He should answer his phone, which is lighting up with what is now the fifteenth missed call from Roy. He should find a shoulder to cry on, to let his grief out.

He should do anything but stay here, alone in his apartment, laying on his bed, staring at his white ceiling.

It’s a funny thing, grief.

Since his phone is now ringing with the sixteenth call from Roy, he assumes the Titans know. He wonders who told them. But they had been involved in the initial search and rescue mission, so maybe they got an official message from Batman. He doesn’t want to go to the Titans. This was never his team to begin with, even if he did a few missions with them when he had been Robin. It’s certainly not his team now.

From the beginning, it was Dick’s. Just like the big brother role, which now falls on his shoulders.

Some big brother he is. He’s spent the last few months trying to do his best, but it never seemed to be enough. And now, he can’t even get up from his fucking bed.

One night, Nightwing never gave his all-clear signal. It wasn’t all that worrying in the beginning, they just did a check on his apartment, on his current cases, and organized a rescue mission. When they couldn’t find him on the first day, some of them started worrying. Then one day turned to two, which turned to one week. And one week turned to two, three, and then to a month, and then to months with no lead.

Until yesterday. When Bruce Wayne got a call saying that a corpse had been washed up on the bay. It wasn’t common per se, but it wasn’t unusual. It was Gotham, after all. What was unusual was that the body corresponded to the description of Dick Grayson, who had been filed as a missing person, by now.

They went to the hospital. They checked. Sneaked in bat-gadgets to do additional testing. It was Dick.

Taken from them months ago and now given back to them by the sea, naked and lifeless.

Fuck.

He’s gone. Maybe for good.

And they have to keep living, somehow.

Someone is banging on his door.

He doesn’t know when it started, hasn’t registered the noise until now. But now that he hears it, it’s obliterating. He puts his hands on his ears to try to stop it. When it doesn’t work, he throws the glass that had been sitting on his nightstand at the door. It shatters noisily, but the pounding doesn’t stop.

“Go away!”

“Jay!”

Time seems to freeze. He knows that voice.

“Jay, please open up!”

He’s in front of the door before he can think about it, because this is impossible.

This is impossible. Dick can’t be here.

But he’s here, isn’t he. And so is Damian. And so are so many people around them. So maybe it’s not that impossible.

He opens the door. This might be a trap. This could very much be a trap. But he doesn’t care right now.

Dick is here. His breath catches in his throat, and he lets out a strangled swear. Dick is here, looking as pale as when he saw him on the morgue not four hours ago. He’s drenched by the rain that had been falling nonstop since the morning, as if Gotham herself is mourning her lost son. He’s clenching a large blanket around his shoulders, thinner than the last time Jason saw him alive, but he’s here.

“Um, Hi? I woke up in a morgue, didn’t really know where to go, I figured your apartment was a good choice as any.”

“Well, err…” What do you say to your newly resurrected brother? “Come on in.”

Dick walks into the apartment, and Jason winces when he hears the sound of glass crushing under his brother naked feet. Dick doesn’t even seem to feel it. Figures. On top of the psychological shock it is to, well, die and be brought back, he’s been walking from the hospital under the rain, with nothing but a thin blanket, probably the one that was resting on his body on the morgue. He’s got to be at least mildly hypothermic.

“Maybe you should take a shower and get some warm clothes? You know where the bathroom is.” This is awkward. He should ask dozens of other questions, or maybe hug Dick or something. But he doesn’t feel relieved. He doesn’t feel anything but blank surprise. He might feel relieved later, but for now, his brain is protecting him from feeling anything.

Dick smiles at him, and while it’s familiar, there is something wrong about his face. Jason can’t exactly place what. Something that should be there and isn’t, or the opposite. Dick disappears into his bathroom, and he’s left alone. He would think he had dreamed the whole thing if not for the blood on the glass shard next to his door.

He takes a broom and cleans up the shards. This is easy. This, he can do. And then…

And then, should he call someone? The kids deserve to know. Damian, at least, deserves to know. But can he do that without Dick’s consent? How would he have reacted if someone had revealed his resurrection to Bruce before he was ready? It doesn’t really matter, he thinks absentmindedly, because he’s not Dick and Dick is not him.

He’s still lost in what he should do when Dick comes out of the bathroom. His brother falls heavily on the couch next to him.

“Are you okay?” Stupid question. He knows.

“You mean, besides-” Dick gestures vaguely to his own body- “everything?”

Jason snorts. “Yeah, fair.”

“I’m okay. I mean, I’m not in any pain, but everything seems too loud and too bright and too much everything, so heads up, I might have a panic attack in the near future.”

“Good to know. How is your foot?”

Dick doesn’t seem to understand. “My foot?”

Something cold washes over Jason. Had he not felt anything? “You walked on glass.”

Dick blinks. Looks at his feet. His intact feet.

“How the fuck…” Jason heard the glass crushing. He saw the blood. There is no way Dick didn’t cut himself at least a little. Has he already healed? Jason knows he’s healing a little faster than most people since the pit, but this is something else. Come to think of it, all the scars his brother had had disappeared.

The pit had healed some of his scars too, but if Dick had been resurrected via the pit, he wouldn’t be that calm, would he?

“Feel any…” Jason trails off, trying to find the right words. He gestures vaguely, “…need to kill somebody sometime soon?” So much for finding the right words.

“No pit madness, if that’s what you’re concerned about. No, I’m fine. I mean, freaked out, but I’m fine.”

Come to think of it, his eyes aren’t green, right? He would definitely have noticed if his brother’s eyes had turned green.

That’s when he notices it. Just as the thought crosses his mind, he sees it. He understands why Dick’s face felt weird.

His eyes aren’t green, but they aren’t blue, either.

They’re yellow.

“Your eyes…” he trails off, not knowing exactly what to say.

“I know,” Dick says. “I saw it in the mirror in your bathroom.”

There is something unbelievably sad in the way he says it, as if he’s mourning his irises’ color, of all things. To Jason’s look, he explains, “This was something I got from my mother.”

Jason puts his hand on Dick’s, words on the tip of his tongue, but when he feels his brother’s wrist, everything he wanted to say, from “it’s not the only thing you got from her” to “my eyes were blue too” just evaporates.

The only thing he can say is, “You don’t have a pulse.”

“What?” Dick blinks. Jason just jumps, checking his brother’s wrist again, then his neck, and finally his heart.

“You don’t have a pulse,” he repeats. This is impossible. He’s made bad taste zombie jokes more than once, but overall, his body still functions the same way most humans do. His heart pumps blood into his veins, which fuels his organs, which in return function to keep him alive.

Dick is in front of him, moving, talking, yet his heart isn’t beating. His skin wasn’t any warmer than the room when Jason touched him. He’s probably breathing out of habit more than out of need. He’s an animated corpse.

This is so fucked up. And so out of Jason’s expertise.

“We need to call Bruce.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think about the implications. About how he’s running back to his father in the face of an issue he can’t solve.

A hand is immediately on his. “Wait. No.”

Jason takes a deep breath. “Dick, we can’t let him, let them, think you’re dead.” Not to mention he doesn’t know what’s going on and Dick’s heart isn’t beating. He’s not ready to see his brother suddenly drop back dead in front of him.

“I will, but… not now. I just… let me process it all, okay?”

Jason closes his eyes. Who is he to refuse such a thing? “Do you know what happened?”

Dick stays silent for so long that Jason wonders if he’s going to answer at all, before finally sighing, and saying, “I do, part of it. I guess I should have started with that.”

“It’s not the pit,” Jason guesses. The symptoms don’t match.

“It’s not the pit,” Dick confirms. “It’s the owls.”

Jason gives him some time, and, as expected, after a short silence, Dick starts talking again. “I don’t remember much. I was on patrol and suddenly, I was surrounded by Talons. I couldn’t even activate my distress signal. And then… it’s just flashes. Pain. I remember swimming into the ocean, but not how I got there, and I woke up in the morgue.”

“Don’t try to remember,” Jason warns. “Your mind is trying to protect you by making you forget.” He knows it all too well. “Let it. Let it protect you.” Let us protect you stays unsaid. There is no way Jason is going to say this. This is Dick, for fuck’s sake. Strong, independent, unshakable Dick. His big brother, his predecessor whom he never stopped looking up to, despite everything that happened. He doesn’t need to be protected. But he’s here, looking so small in Jason’s hoodie, so scared with his unmoving heart and his cold body.

“They changed me,” Dick says. “I can’t go back to Bruce like this. I’ve changed.”

Jason sighs. “Yes.”

That gets him a snort and a half smile. “Yes? That’s it?”

He shrugs. “What do you want me to say? You’re not the same person you were before you disappeared, that’s true. I won’t tell you that you are. But you’re here, aren’t you. And that’s what matters.”

Realization hits him the moment he says it. Because Alfred had told him that, and so had Dick and even if Bruce hadn’t said it, he made it clear that he felt it. But Jason never really believed that it mattered for him to be there rather than to be like before.

But with Dick now, and with Damian before him, he realizes he doesn’t care if they’re not the same, as long as they’re there. They’ve changed. They’ve all changed. “And you won’t be the same person tomorrow, because everything, every scar you get, everything that you see, changes you at least a little,” he continues, not really knowing where he’s going. “But you’re here.”

“You’re alive.” He says it to a cold body with no blood flowing in its veins, but a cold body that holds his brother.

“You’re alive.” Something else hits him, something he refrained himself from feeling since Dick passed the door. Hope. Relief. Dick is alive.

“You’re alive.” There is another lost child, with a beating heart, who crawled out of his own grave too long ago, and who needs to hear it too. A kid, as big as a man, now, who doesn’t have the shoulders to support the world.

“You’re alive.” He doesn’t really know who he’s saying it to.

“You’re alive.”

And he is.

Endnote: And with this I finished whumptober 2020! Hope you enjoyed the fic! Many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading!

#batfam #dc #fanfiction #Jason Todd #dick grayson #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #death #ressurection #jason todd needs a hug #Dick grayson needs a hug #whumptober 2020 #experiment #left for dead

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