#This knowledge has and will haunt me to the day I day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzyiii · 3 months ago

Note

just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭

His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.8k words

summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena

tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler

note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.

But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.

In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.

Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.

Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.

The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.

Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.

Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.

Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.

Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.

With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.

But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.

You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.

An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”

In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.

Mikaelson.

A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.

Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.

True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.

So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.

Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.

You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.

The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.

Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.

Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.

Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.

In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.

But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.

And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.

In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.

And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.

Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.

You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.

Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.

Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.

But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.

The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.

“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.

You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."

“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.

With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”

As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”

Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”

An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"

"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."

A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.

“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.

“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”

You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”

Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.

There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.

Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.

He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #the originals #mikaelson #vampire!reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year ago

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hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Jason's Doll #Dead on Main #Yes Danny is laughing that the big bad bats are scared of him #Jason saw Danny's real form in his dreams #Ghost can reach you there #Bruce is like #“Son please let me buy you a toy that's not ghost-infected. Come on you're eighteen now”#Cass and Dick think it's a sweet love story #Tim's pov

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bobbertskeetz · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! How are You? Hope u are good.

Can I request Spencer with a reader that had unsub parents? It can be female ir male

You can ignore this is You want! Thank u for hearing me

I'm so sorry for the delay on this request, I'm crap at trying to come up with unsub plot lines but I hope this somewhat lives up to the imagine you had envisioned my love !! Thanks a million for the request and I hope you enjoy <3

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇꜱ ꜱ.ʀ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: After half a decade, Spencer's worst fears are assumed to come true...

Themes/Warnings: gn!reader, pre-established relationship, mentions of kidnapping, unsub parents, angst, general themes and violence of the show. | PSA!! This imagine is loosely based on Mosely Lane |

You hated having your picture taken. The knowledge that you could never truly have control over what will be done with it haunts you even to this day.

The physical danger may be gone, but your memory, one which was shared with the many children who, unfortunately, found themselves locked away behind the dingy cellar door, forever remains.

Spencer knew of the horror stories. Of course he did. You made it your mission to tell him yourself before one of his FBI buddies could find out for themselves. However, hearing the admissions fall from your mouth did nothing to soothe Spencer's fear and anger. Fear, for your safety. Anger, for the knowledge that you lived in fear for the majority of your life. Anger, for the knowledge that the only thing separating you from your parents was a couple layers of cement and a cell door. He knew first hand just how ineffective prison can be for victims safety - if an unsub wanted to achieve something or other, all it took was speaking with the right person. He hated that he knew that.

Especially when he received a token in the mail.

A small parcel, barely the size of his palm. A little thin package addressed to Whom It May Concern. Assuming nothing of it, he opened it. You had already left for work, bidding him his goodbye kiss and promising a home cooked meal by the time he returned from the office. There was no sense in waiting until you were both home to open it, what if it was urgent?

And so he did.

And oh how he wished he never had.

There in his hand, sat a small polaroid of a child. At first, he didn't recognise you - for the ten years he had known you, and the five you spent living together, you have all but refused to dig up any childhood photographs. However, the longer he stared, the more he noticed your teary eyes. Your scrunched nose and furrowed brows. The same expression you wear to this day when you wake from a nightmare, when you watch a scary movie, and when you first told him of the horror house your parents ran. When you told him of the polaroids you were forced to take of your 'brothers' and 'sisters', and of your task of lugging those who disobeyed your mother to the crematorium.

Yet you'd failed to tell him that your picture was taken along with the other victims. That your little face had been a part of the morbid photo album which remained in the evidence case. Perhaps you didn't know? Did you even remember having this picture taken, you couldn't have been more than 7 years old. Spencer felt sick. Suddenly, it dawned on him what he was holding. How did he come to have this. Who had left this at your shared doorstep. They knew where you lived.

They knew where you lived.

He just about caught the bile in his throat before he felt his pocket buzz.

Struggling to pull his gaze from the omen in his hand, he reached for his phone and answered, failing to see the caller ID.

"Reid?"

"Yeah. Hotch I know, but I might be a bit late."

Before he could provide a half-assed excuse to buy himself some time - time to think on how he was to go about bringing this up to you and the team - Hotch beat him to it.

"Reid," His voice was solemn, yet calculated, "We've received a package. Well - JJ has."

"It's them Hotch."

The silence was pregnant. Deafening.

"I know."

Your foot shook, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. The fluorescent glow of the BAU was straining your eyes, leaving a slight pound in your temples. However, the main focus of your stress induced headache remained on the ambiguity surrounding as to why David Rossi appeared at your work to escort you to Quantico. And why your boyfriend has locked himself and Aaron away in the conference room for the last forty minutes. You were scared. You couldn't let it show, you'd learnt that the hard way. But, in a room full of profilers, it was hard to hide - you were convinced that they could all genuinely smell fear.

In fact, your fear was so prominent, you failed to hear Morgan calling your name until he was crouched in front of you.

"How bout we go into Reid now, huh?" You met his eye only briefly.

Carefully, you chose your next words, "Will you all tell me what's going on?" Pleading with your eyes, Morgan felt his stomach twist.

"C'mon sweetheart."

You didn't take much convincing. All you wanted was Spencer, to curl up into him and forget all about this disruption to your day. Part of you began to wonder if you were being completely over dramatic and misreading the situation, maybe he had a surprise for you. A date? But you knew, in your gut you knew. They'd come back to haunt you. Why else would this dread be bubbling in your stomach?

Derek opened the door for you, leading you gently by the shoulder. There, you saw your boyfriend, bent over the table resting his hands on either side of what looked to me scraps of paper. His sleeves had been messily pushed up over his elbows, top button undone and his hair was tussled, a tell-tale sign that he had been pushing his hands through his curls. But for why? You still didn't truly know.

He looked up. His stomach dropped.

Wringing your fingers together, you stood before him with a sheepish look across your face. He knew you suspected something, something bad. And maybe you were right. It still didn't make telling you any easier.

"C'mere honey," He held his arm out to you, inviting you to slot into his chest, "Can you look at these with me? I'm right here."

You wished you'd stayed at work.

There on the table in front of you, sat three polaroids. One, you recognised to be Laney, the girl you had befriended for years. The photo, you had taken of her, as you had of all the others, to keep in an album. Why? You didn't know. Proof? Maybe a part of you knew that one day the horror would stop, and you'd need to show someone some day what had happened in your house. Someone had to remember all those who couldn't survive. Like your Laney.

The other two forced your head to bury itself into Spencer's chest; one, was of your bedroom, or rather your cell, and one of you. Little you. When it was taken, who had taken it? You weren't so sure. Laney? Your father? Everything was a fuzzy mess of guilt, shame and fear, so much so you couldn't remember the half of it.

The one thing you knew for certain, you remembered hating having that photo taken. For what reason? You couldn't place. But you did know that to this day, you still hated having your picture taken. That would never change.

"Where did you find these?" He almost missed your words completely, you spoke so softly, voice strained and distant.

A shaky breath left his lips.

"They found us angel, I'm so sorry."

Your heart lurched. Surely you had heard him wrong. You asked him, silently begging you had indeed misheard, but to your horror, that just was not the case.

Just then, JJ stepped forward, a small piece of paper outstretched to you, "Spence received the one of you at your home. We were sent the other two here, along with this note."

Shakily, you grasped for the paper, sparing Spencer a short glance before guiding your eyes to the words scrawled out in front of you.

Your old home address, a date and time. A demand for you to be there alone, or you would be 'collected' regardless of your showing up or not.

Your head spun, had it not been for Spencer's firm grasp around your waist, you were sure you'd have collapsed then and there.

Tears welled up as your eyes locked with his. His own frown matching the drop in your stomach.

They were back. You both knew it, and for once, Spencer didn't have all the answers.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #bau team #derek morgan x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #derek morgan fanfiction

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

Text

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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sicutpuella · 5 months ago

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Twitter Incels | Simon “Ghost” Riley

That phase where you slowly start hating your girlfriend is insane.

That damned Twitter thread. It's been haunting her for a week now. She can't stop opening it, her heart sinking further with every new addition. She reads every disheartening tweet: “I’m waiting for her to catch me cheating so she can break up with me,” “I close my eyes when we kiss because she’s so fuckin’ ugly!” And the horrible comments just keep coming…

She’s somehow semi-grateful Simon doesn’t have Twitter or any social accounts—he thinks social media is stupid; but she can’t help but have that self-doubt of paranoia and overthinking—what if Simon had thought of the same thing?

Simon, on the other hand, had a day filled with boredom and frustration.

He doesn't know what his girlfriend has been going through; instead, he's been preoccupied with his own thoughts. He's been itching to spend some quality time together, but she's been unusually distant lately. It’s been almost two days since they last hung out, and the silence is weighing heavily on him.

He's tried reaching out through text, but her responses have been short and distant. This isn't like her at all. The more he thinks about it, the more irritated he feels. He's starting to wonder what's going through her head.

So… he invites himself back into her house and sees her watching something.

He joins her on the couch, making his presence known with a heavy sigh. Crossing his arms, he turns his attention to the screen.

"Hey," he says, trying to sound neutral. "What are you watching?"

Oh—just… Breaking Bad." She looked sad.

Simon notices the hint of sadness in her voice; it catches him off guard. He turns his gaze to her, studying her expression closely.

"You alright?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. He doesn’t understand why she seems so down.

He knew he did nothing wrong; he double-checked his calendar—he didn’t miss any birthday, any anniversary, or any other silly shenanigans she had for the week. So he wonders.

The more he sits there, the more confused and frustrated he becomes. He can't comprehend why she’s acting this way. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something he might have done or said to upset her. But he comes up empty, only increasing his irritation.

"You've been distant lately," he states bluntly, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"It's like you've been avoiding me," he continues, his irritation growing with every word. He shifts on the couch, leaning closer to her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of what’s going on in her head.

"What's going on?" he presses, his tone firm but laced with a hint of concern. He can't shake the feeling that something is off, and the silence is only making him more agitated.

“Do you hate me? Do you feel like you’re starting to hate me?” Her tone was soft and vulnerable, he realized— she was overthinking again.

As she spoke, each question hit him like a punch to the gut. He recoiled, taken aback by the insecurities spilling from her mouth.

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, his expression softened. “No, never.” he said firmly. “I don’t hate you, I don’t make fun of you, and I definitely don’t think you’re annoying.”

He paused, his eyes locked onto hers. “And you’re goddamn beautiful, you know that.”

She still had a bit of a pout. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her pout, his irritation completely replaced by affection.

He shifted on the couch, moving even closer to her. He put his arm around her, pulling her against his side. “Seriously, where’s all this coming from?” he asked again, his tone gentle.

”This…” she shows him the infamous twitter thread— to which he has no knowledge of since he is chronically offline. He scans the Twitter thread, his expression growing more dumbfounded with each new addition. He couldn’t believe that was the reason she was feeling so insecure!

“Really?” he said after finishing reading it. “This is what made you doubt me? A bunch of idiotic tweets from strangers on a screen?”

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “You know how stupid Twitter is, right? You can’t trust anything on there. It’s just people spewing nonsense, looking for attention and validation.”

He scrolls some more, “typical boy behavior…” he clicks his tongue with annoyance.

“Look at them… they keep tweeting about how much they hate their girlfriends!” She crosses her arms.

“Yeah, and most of them are probably made by sad and bitter assholes who can’t even find someone who’d put up with them for more than five minutes.” He rolls his eyes, scanning through the thread again, his irritation growing with each tweet.

“Besides…” he glances at her with a smirk, “do I look like one of those morons?”

“No…”

“Exactly,” he said firmly, his gaze fixed on hers. “I'm not one of those dumb, shallow idiots.”

He gently placed his hand on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to listen to any of this bullshit.” He gestured towards the Twitter thread. “None of that matters, not when you have me.”

He paused for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, and I can’t get enough of you. I’m with you because I want to be, not because some dumbass on Twitter says I should hate you.”

“But… but look at what they’re tweeting, babe!” Her voice pitches up.

“Sounds like a bunch of incels.” He chuckles to himself while scrolling.

He chuckled without humor. “And look at all the dumbass replies. People agreeing with this crap because they’re insecure idiots who can’t appreciate what they have.” He takes her hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “But you know who you’re dating, right? A man who adores every part of you. A man who would shoot those basement incels in the face if they spoke about you like that in front of me.”

“Yeah, but they’re like—comparing their girlfriends to… to… their first loves…” she sighs, pulling her knees to her chest. She still felt insecure. He noticed her pulling away, the insecurity still evident in her body language. He pulled her closer to his side, wrapping his arm around her.

“Seriously?” he scoffed, his annoyance evident. “Comparing their girlfriends to first loves? That’s the most shallow and idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.” He let out a frustrated groan. “And who cares about first loves anyway? They’re called ‘first’ for a reason—because they usually end for a reason.”

He gently lifted her chin, making her look at him. “I’m not thinking about my first love— fuck don’t think I even had one… or comparing you to anyone else. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You sure?” She pouts. “No taxi-cab theory or anything?”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Are you serious? Who even comes up with these shithole theories?” He pauses, trying to compose himself. “First of all, that’s another dumb thing people on the internet say to make themselves feel better. Second, why do you still watch those TikToks when they just make your insecurities flare up?”

She sighs, realizing he had a big point.

He noticed the sigh, realizing she understood what he was saying.

He softened his expression, his annoyance fading into a gentle concern. “Babe, you’ve got to stop listening to random crap on the internet. Especially when it’s making you doubt yourself and us.”

He wraps his arm tighter around her, pulling her closer still. “You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I want to be with. Don’t let some dumbass TikTokers and Twitter incels make you think otherwise, alright?”

He saw the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile, and it brought a sense of relief to him. He knew he was getting through to her, making her see that she had nothing to worry about.

“There’s that smile I love,” he said softly, his thumb caressing her cheek.

She nodded, their eyes locked. She knew he was right; he had never once made her feel unloved. He held her gaze, seeing the realization dawn in her eyes, the understanding that she had nothing to worry about.

“Good,” he said, a small smile forming on his face. “Now, can you please delete that stupid TikTok app before you start questioning the very foundation of our relationship again?”

”It’s Twitter! TikTok and Twitter are different…” She cutely huffed.

He rolled his eyes, sarcasm evident in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, I know. One is full of annoying dances and teenagers, and the other is full of annoying people and their stupid opinions. Big difference.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, his struggle to express himself verbally apparent.

“But seriously,” he said earnestly, his hand gently squeezing hers, “You’re the most beautiful woman in my eyes. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. There’s no one else for me, and I’ll always be here to remind you of that, even if I’m not the best at saying it.”

#ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod smut #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost x reader #Simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fanfiction

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theremustbeabear · 25 days ago

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copy-and-pasting from discord but i had a realization

out of the three people on the expedition that already speak inuktitut, one is the only irishman and another is the only scotsman. which, i think, Says Something part of britain, but not of their own volition. inherently set apart and deemed lesser by their own supposed brothers... you see crozier get it a lot, but it creeps into the background with mcdonald, too. in the first episode, sir john insists that stanley evaluate young as well, and doesn't listen to mcdonald's professional advice. in episode 6, nobody listens to mcdonald during the fire, and he dies as a result. i'm sure there's more that i can't think of off the top of my head literally the first time you see mcdonald in the show is sir john disregarding his authority

like!! mmm, the narrative journey of crozier choosing the inuit over britain is so fucking good, but the background dynamics as well-- the fact that hickey lies (poorly) about being irish and it's obvious but crozier would rather believe he has a brother on board than call him out.

and when goodsir talks about mcdonald's diaries and calls on his knowledge, he's sort of-- smiled and nodded at, even though mcdonald was there, his journals would have some of the most helpful information they could call on, especially once they encounter the inuit themselves, and yet!! and yet mcdonald is dismissed, why?

it's so fucking palpable. colonization and assimilation taints every inch of this show, and when you also consider the fact that the real goodsir was scottish, too, and his role becoming the fourth to connect with silna in her own language... [screams]

crozier's line to hickey about how if he'd disguised his own irishness, they might not be in this situation, because sir john would have listened to him, haunts me every fucking day.

because that's the crux of it, isn't it. even with everything crozier has done. he's still irish. even with everything mcdonald has done. he's still scottish. and they have more in common with the people on the ice than the ones they've followed to their doom.

#jupiter.txt #terrence.txt #the terror #francis crozier #alexander mcdonald

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yuujispinkhair · 1 year ago

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Brother (Part 2)

When you start dating Yuuji, you don't know that your sweet sunshine boy has an evil twin who wants to have his brother's girl, too.

Part 1 ++ Halloween Masterlist 2023

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) + Yuuji x Reader Genre: Horror, smut Word Count: 6k Warnings: 18+, dark content, consensual sex with Yuuji + noncon with Sukuna. Rough sex, degradation, humiliation, getting called slut, whore, cheater. Forced orgasms, pussy spanking, squirting, cumshots, creampie, kind of forced breeding. Sukuna isn't a nice guy in this story. Sukuna and Yuuji look completely alike. Sukuna doesn't have his tattoos. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The flashbacks of that night haunt your every thought. The memories of being forced to watch yourself in that dirty bathroom mirror and Sukuna standing behind you with his hands all over your body. His sneer, his mocking laugh. The helplessness you felt. The humiliation of cumming against your will and getting taunted for it.

Sukuna broke you that night. And maybe you would have stayed there on the bathroom floor lying in a puddle of squirt and cum after he was finished with you, waiting for someone to walk in and find you. But there was one thought that kept repeating in your mind over and over again: Yuuji must never find out!

You knew he would blame himself for what his brother had done to you out of jealousy.

And so you scrambled to your feet and hastily cleaned yourself before you stumbled back to the party with a fake smile plastered onto your face. When you spotted Yuuji in the hallway, all your instincts screamed at you to run the other way. He looked too much like his brother.

But you forced yourself to stay and smile as he walked towards you and smiled that big sunshine smile and pulled you into his strong arms.

"Cutie! I was wondering where you went. Did you meet some friends? Oh, why are your clothes wet?"

You forced yourself to lie to him when his gaze trailed over you with a worried expression on his pretty face.

"Oh, I knocked into someone, and she accidentally poured her drink over me. It's ok, baby, don't worry."

You forced yourself to go home with him after the party and sleep in his arms. Arms that felt exactly like the ones that had held you captive.

And since that night, you keep forcing yourself to act like everything is fine. You do it to protect Yuuji from a knowledge that will hurt him.

It's been three days since the party. Three days since you met the evil twin. And the shame and disgust still cling to you.

And the fact that the man who did this to you has the same face as your boyfriend makes this whole thing even more fucked up. Anytime you look at Yuuji, you now also see his brother.

And another thing bothers you: Yuuji lied to you.

You remember your first date very clearly. The typical small talk the two of you exchanged to get to know each other. What are your hobbies? What is your favorite color? Do you have any siblings?

You remember loud and clear that Yuuji said he has no siblings.

You are currently sitting on Yuuji's bed, watching a movie, but all you can do is stare at his side profile, watching him with narrowed eyes. Was it a misunderstanding? You can't stop yourself from blurting out,

"Yuuji? Do you have a brother?"

"Huh?"

Big golden eyes blink at you in surprise, and Yuuji shakes his head,

"I only have my grandpa. Didn't I tell you?"

Your heart is beating too fast. He is doing it again!

"I thought maybe you have a sibling who lives somewhere else....goes to college in another town or something, and you forgot to mention them."

"Oh, I see! But no. I am an only child."

He grins at you, that cute big boyish grin, and stretches, causing his hoodie to ride up and expose some of his firm tan abs before he laughs softly and lunges towards you to wrap you in his strong arms and pull you into one of his bear hugs.

You feel irritation well up in you. Why is he lying to you? Yuuji is such a sweet guy. Always smiling, always helping others, always so sweet and fun to be around. He always seems so genuine. And yet. He is keeping a dark secret from everyone. But why?

Is he worried you will leave him if you find out there is another guy who looks like Yuuji but is a violent and cruel sadist? You blink. Maybe that is it.

It must be hell for Yuuji to have a twin like that. Sukuna said he is the family curse. Now that you think about it, you realize that this is true. He is Yuuji's curse. Anytime Yuuji looks in the mirror, he sees the face of his evil twin. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about Sukuna! No wonder he moved far away from his hometown to attend college here!

But what was Sukuna doing at that party? Did he travel here to visit his brother and then see the two of you at the party? Is he gone again now? Or is he still somewhere near? Is he lurking in the shadows? Is he watching his brother's every move?

You gulp hard. It scares you to think Sukuna might be here, stalking you and Yuuji.

Instinctively, you snuggle closer to your boyfriend, seeking comfort, seeking his protection. And Yuuji reacts to it immediately, cuddling you tightly and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, sighing softly before he tells you how happy he is to have you and how much he loves you. His lips find yours and kiss you sweetly before they wander down your body, kissing, licking oh so tenderly, the complete opposite of his brother's touch.

Your anger at him has dissipated. Yuuji is a victim, too, cursed with a twin like Sukuna. And so you let Yuuji touch you. You caress his soft pink hair and moan his name as you spread your legs for him willingly when he asks you in that sweet, low voice if he can please eat you out.

And when he is lying on top of you later that night, fucking you into the mattress with deep but loving thrusts, you find yourself digging your nails into the buff muscles of his back, clinging to him, scratching his skin, as if you want to make sure he will never leave again.

You need him here with you. As long as Yuuji is here, you are safe from Sukuna. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, arching your back to meet his horny thrusts, begging him for a second round, begging him to fuck you again and again and stay inside you all night.

He doesn't know it, but you need him to claim you back. You need the good twin to overwrite what the evil twin did to you.

You feel guilty the next morning when Yuuji gets up and stands before the bed with his back to you, and you see the deep red scratches your nails left on his muscular back.

But he just shrugs and grins that cute sheepish grin at you,

"Don't worry, cutie. It doesn't hurt, and I really loved how you didn't want to let go of me. That was so cute! I love knowing that I made my girl feel good."

It's party time again on Saturday, but you go there with an uneasy feeling. You cannot stop the shudder running down your back. You cannot stop your gaze from wandering restlessly through the room, watching, waiting, worrying.

Is Sukuna somewhere near?

You cling to Yuuji desperately, holding his hand the whole time, hugging him, burying your face in his broad chest, unwilling to let go.

He thinks it's cute that you are so clingy and kisses you sweetly, smiling at you so innocent and sweet. It breaks your heart. You need to protect this smile, this innocence.

You realize with horror that Sukuna isn't just Yuuji's dark secret anymore. He is also yours.

He managed to force his way into your life, into your relationship, into your body, and into your mind.

Yuuji gently pries his hand out of your grasp, smiling apologetically before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and tells you that he has to use the bathroom real quick.

"I'll be back in a second, cutie!"

You feel like an idiot at how terrified you feel when your boyfriend leaves the room. You stare after him, watching him make his way through the crowd, taller than most of them, his pink hair standing out. Your gaze stays glued to that flash of pink, watching him walk further and further away from you, and with him, the safety you felt leaves you too.

You grab the cold bottle of coke from the table next to you, holding on to it as if it is your lifeline. You feel your breath speed up, and your hands cramp from how tightly you clutch the bottle while your gaze is fixed on the open doorway, heart hammering fearfully in your chest as you count the seconds waiting for Yuuji to come back. This time, you won't leave your spot. You won't wander around alone.

A flash of pink appears in the doorway, and you slump against the wall as a relieved smile lifts your lips. Until your mind provides a disturbing thought. Is that Yuuji? Or is that the wrong twin? How can you be sure this is Yuuji and not Sukuna, who is walking towards you? Isn't that gaze too devilish? Isn't that a smirk instead of a smile?

The relief you felt a moment ago is replaced by panic. Your heart is racing, your vision dancing with black spots. The bottle you were clutching so desperately slips out of your hand and lands on the floor.

You are frozen in place, watching an Itadori twin walk toward you without knowing which one it is. You stare at him like a deer trapped in the headlights, eyes wide, heart hammering wildly.

But then he blinks, and his lips lift in the typical broad smile. You can hear his happy laughter, even across the loud mix of voices.

You exhale loudly and shake your head to clear your thoughts. Stupid. You are so stupid! Of course, this is Yuuji! You curse yourself for being so paranoid and confusing your sweet, loving boyfriend with his evil twin.

Yuuji reaches you and leans down to peck your lips sweetly. He pulls away, and worry washes over his handsome face.

"Are you ok, baby? You look a bit sick. Do you need some cold water? Or some fresh air? Do you want us to leave?"

You smile at him weakly, shaking your head, still feeling shaken but refusing to let the memory of Sukuna ruin your evening.

"No, I'm fine, baby."

You step closer and wrap your arms around him, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply, trying to chase every trace of his twin away. You just have to keep kissing Yuuji. When he kisses you, you know who he is. You know that this is the right twin. That this is your sweet Yuuji.

Your left foot steps in the small puddle of coke, soaking through the canvas of your Converse, dampening your sock uncomfortably, but your lips keep moving against Yuuji's desperately.

You spend the night at Yuuji's, falling asleep in his strong arms, spooned by his warm buff body, finally feeling at ease here in his bed with his body pressing so reassuringly against your back.

But your dreams aren't that comforting.

You dream of a black hallway with hundreds of mirrors lining its walls. On the other end of the hallway stand two men. They both have the same pink hair and undercut. They have the same face and the same build. And they watch you with the same eyes as they both lift a hand, reaching out for you, silently beckoning you over. Come here, come to your boyfriend.

You wake up with a gasp. The red neon digits on the alarm clock tell you it's still the middle of the night. Yuuji's strong arms are still wrapped around you, his body is still pressing against your back, his warm breath is on your neck.

Warm lips close around your skin and suck. You moan softly, pushing your ass against the warm body behind you, rubbing it over the growing bulge in those boxer briefs. Maybe a good fuck with Yuuji will chase away the lingering uneasiness from the bad dream.

The lips on your neck become bolder, sucking roughly on your skin. The arms around you tighten, making you squeak because it's painful. Large, strong hands dig firmly into the soft flesh of your belly.

Your eyes widen, your body turning rigid as fear crashes over you. Cold dread fills your every fiber as you realize this isn't Yuuji behind you.

"Missed me, brat?"

Sukuna's low, mocking laugh fills your ears, and you spiral into the dark again. You tumble from one nightmare into the next. But this time, you can't wake up from it.

How did Sukuna get into Yuuji's apartment? Does he have a key? Or did he break in? And most importantly...

"Wh.. where is Yuuji?"

Sukuna's nails dig painfully into your skin. His voice sounds rough, angry,

"I don't like it when you talk about him while I am with you! You have no manners, brat!"

His hands grab your tits firmly, kneading them roughly through Yuuji's shirt that you wear for the night. The huge hard bulge of his erect cock is rutting firmly against you, letting you know what he will do to you.

And you know there is no escape.

You are once again trapped in the evil twin's arms. You cannot run from him, and you can't even scream, or you will alert Yuuji. Yuuji, who is probably in the kitchen or bathroom, and if he comes in here and sees you with his twin... You must protect him! He must not know!

And that leaves you here in the arms of this monster.

Sukuna shoves one hand under your shirt, groping your tits roughly, squeezing them possessively, and pinching your nipples between his fingers until they sting from a mix of pain and pleasure.

His other hand pushes between your thighs, forcing them apart so he can yank your panties to the side and expose your pussy to him, giving it a mean, hard slap from behind that makes you gasp.

Sukuna's mocking laughter fills your ear.

"Gotta remind that pathetic little cunt again what it feels like to get fucked right."

His unrelenting fingers slip between your pussy lips and push inside you, making tears well up in your eyes. Sukuna doesn't give you time to adjust but starts fingering you instantly, fucking you with two long fingers, hard and fast, making your whole body tremble from fear and pleasure. To your horror, you can hear the filthy squelching noises of your wet cunt, creaming up against your will.

"Oh, do you hear that? Your slutty little cunt is weeping for me. You thought about my cock every day, didn't you? Don't be shy, tell me all about it, slut! Tell me how much you missed getting fucked by me!"

Against your better judgment, you try to beg for his mercy,

"S...Sukuna, please just stop..."

A long finger curls brutally inside your cunt, pressing against your g-spot and massaging it with firm, rough circles, making your thighs press together and your body shake.

"Uh uh, what did I tell you?"

Of course, you should have known there is no mercy in him. You know his game by now, know what he wants. Sukuna fingers you brutally, torturing your g-spot, laughing when your hips jerk uncontrollably. Your resistance breaks, and you sob softly as tears of shame run down your face, and you tell him what he wants to hear,

"I'm sorry... I missed your cock so much, Sukuna. Please fuck me. Please let me cum on your cock again."

He laughs, opening his mouth and letting his canines graze over your neck,

"Bet you thought about me anytime my brother fucked you. A naughty cunt like yours isn't satisfied with a guy like my brother. You cheating little slut need my cock to fuck you right."

Your breath hitches, and your body goes rigid because you know what will come when Sukuna pulls his fingers out of you.

For a moment, your pussy flutters around nothing, but then Sukuna rams his thick hard cock deep into your wet heat, impaling you on his fat length with one brutal thrust.

Long fingers get shoved into your mouth, stuffing it with them, muffling your cries, filling your mouth with the taste of your own juices. You choke around them, but Sukuna just presses them firmer into your mouth, forcing you to take him from two sides, stuffing your cunt and your mouth as he uses you for his sick pleasure.

He humps you like a rabid animal, fucks you with brutal hard snaps of his hips while he groans in your ear, voice filled with glee and arousal,

"Ah yeah, that feels good. My brother fucked that little cunt so often that it molded to our cocks. You're such a dirty little cock slut, so insatiable, huh? Wanting every Itadori dick to fuck you stupid. Good thing you have two of us to fuck that greedy cunt."

His pace is brutal and unrelenting. His fat mushroom head hammers against your g-spot, torturing you with his cock, making your body react to the stimulation against your will, pussy creaming up for him, body jerking from pleasure in his violent hold.

Sukuna growls in your ear as one large hand grabs your wet pussy, keeping you in place, pulling you back against him. You keen around his fingers when he pinches your swollen clit meanly between two fingers, making your hips buck wildly.

"Take my cock, you slut!"

His taut balls slap heavily against your cunt with every rough thrust. Sukuna's fat cockhead is pressed against your g-spot, hitting it brutally, while his fingers attack your clit with rough strokes, rubbing hard, fast circles around it.

It's too much, too intense. The pleasure is hot and red, making your whole body jerk uncontrollably as you cry and sob around Sukuna's fingers. Your cunt shudders and pulses hotly around his brutal cock.

Heat floods your body as an intense orgasm gets forced out of you. Hot and wild, making you cum so hard that you think you will black out from it.

Your body is shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, pussy twitching hard around Sukuna's fat cock, which doesn't go unnoticed by him, of course,

"You little slut. Milking my cock so eagerly. You want more, huh? Want my cum this time? Was the greedy little cockslut sad that I didn't fuck her full last time, hm? Want to have your pussy fucked full like a big girl? Yeah, tonight you're gonna take my cum. I'm gonna fuck that greedy cunt full of it."

He growls, wrapping his arms around you and manhandling you into another position, on your belly, your face pressed into the pillow as Sukuna mounts you from behind. One of his hands is in your hair, grabbing it painfully and pushing your face down, keeping you firmly in place. But you couldn't go anywhere anyways. Not with his heavy body on top of you, fucking you brutally into the mattress.

He fucks his cock into your tight heat with erratic wild thrusts, giving himself over to pure primal need, punishing you with every hard thrust, chasing his orgasm with rough horny thrusts until you feel him cum in you, flooding your pussy with his hot seed.

"Yeah, take all of it, you greedy slut! I hope you get pregnant and have to carry my brat!"

He groans and growls as he leans down, cock still deep in your pussy, as if he wants to plug you up. His voice is amused when his lips brush over your ear,

"Now say thank you, you little slut."

You sob softly, hiding your face in the pillow, crying from the humiliation you feel as you mumble,

"Th... Thank you..."

But Sukuna's fingers twist painfully in your hair and yank your head up, forcing you to look at his sneering face. You hiccup as you stare at him with wide, tear-stained eyes. His mocking smirk looks even more evil here in the dim red glow of the alarm clock's light.

"Where are your manners, brat? Look at me while you thank me."

You sob weakly but force yourself to do as he commands,

"Th.. thank you, Sukuna. Thank you for f... fucking me.. and for g... giving me your cum."

He chuckles at your words, a sound full of mocking and triumph. One of his large hands grabs your chin, strong fingers pressing into your skin as he leans closer to lick over your cheek, licking up your hot tears,

"See, you can be a good girl if you want. It's a shame that I have to leave already, but my brother will be back any second now. 'Til next time, princess. Can't wait to make you cry with my cock again."

He leaves you lying there, pussy throbbing and full of his cum. You feel dirty, debauched, crying softly into the pillow.

You hate Sukuna so much, and you hate yourself, you hate your body, for reacting that way to him. How can you do this to Yuuji? Cumming on his brother's cock right here in Yuuji's bed? Lying here with your pussy filled to the brim with Sukuna's cum, while sweet Yuuji has no clue. Maybe Sukuna is right, and you are really a slut.

The door opens, and your body goes rigid. Which brother is it now? Sukuna or Yuuji? Somehow, both options sound terrifying at the moment. You are scared of Sukuna, but you feel guilty when you think of Yuuji.

You hastily wipe your tears off and force yourself to calm your breathing as you roll onto your side, pretending to be asleep.

The heavy weight of an Itadori man makes the mattress dip as he gets in bed behind you. You gulp hard. You don't dare breathe as a pair of muscular arms slips around you and a warm, buff body presses against your back.

But then a soft kiss is breathed on your neck, and a happy sigh exhaled against your ear.

Yuuji.

Sweet, strong Yuuji.

You snuggle against his buff body instinctively, needing him, needing his love and strength, even while you are drowning in shame and guilt.

Yuuji chuckles happily,

"Aww, hey, cutie, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. I got hungry and had to make a sandwich. Come here. I'll cuddle you so my princess can sleep again. Or maybe we can do something else that will make you sleepy..."

His voice turns into a low, raspy whisper, making your pussy flutter even in this situation, as if you are conditioned to react with arousal to the sexy sound of his voice when he gets horny.

Yuuji's strong, muscular arms tighten around you as he nuzzles his face against your neck. You can feel his smile, and it makes things better and worse at the same time.

The guilt makes you feel sick. Here you are, lying in your sweet and loving boyfriend's arms, with your pussy still leaking his brother's cum.

Yuuji's lips trail tender kisses up and down your neck while he hums softly, oblivious to your inner turmoil. His large hands start wandering over your body. But it's such a different touch from Sukuna's. Yuuji's hands are gentle, loving when they slip under the old t-shirt he gave you, caressing your tits sweetly, circling your nipples tenderly until they are stiff and pleasure throbs in your lower belly.

Yuuji moans softly against your skin,

"I love you, baby. You feel so soft and sweet. I wanna spoil my pretty girl."

You can feel his fat cock hardening and pressing hotly against your ass through his boxers, so needy for you. But Yuuji is sweet about it, not demanding, not aggressive. He slips a hand into your panties to lovingly caress your clit with gentle slow flicks, pampering your pussy with his tender caresses.

Your head is spinning, lust pulsing hotly in your clit, making you spread your legs eagerly for Yuuji, pushing your throbbing cunt needily against his loving fingers, wanting to feel him, wanting him to chase away every trace of his brother.

He moans loudly when he feels more of your hot wet cunt, voice so sweet and sexy,

"Fuck, cutie. You are already so wet. That's so hot."

And your eyes fill with tears. You are choking on the guilt and shame. Knowing that most of the wetness is from the orgasm, Sukuna forced out of you and from his cum that's seeping out of you and coating your pussy lips so obscenely.

Suddenly, you see red. You can't take it anymore. You can't just lie here and spread your legs and let Yuuji pamper you as if you deserve it. As if everything is ok.

Nothing is ok! And it's all because of that monster, Sukuna! You hate him! You hate him for doing this to you and to his brother! You hate him for driving this wedge between you and Yuuji! But you won't let him destroy what you and Yuuji have! You won't let him win! Yuuji is the only Itadori brother you want to belong to, and you will prove it tonight!

You turn around in Yuuji's arms, making him gasp in surprise when you attack his lips with a fierce kiss, your hands running roughly through his pink hair, tugging on it and biting his bottom lip as you moan his name.

"Yuuji... I want to fuck, you baby. Let me ride you."

He moans in answer and rolls onto his back, pulling you with him eagerly while he licks into your mouth. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his fat cock in your hand and giving it slow, firm strokes that make him throw his head back and moan loudly.

Your mouth falls open as you watch him in the dim light. He looks just like his brother, just like Sukuna, but the difference is that you are the one in control now.

Yuuji is just as strong as Sukuna. He could manhandle you and use you just like his twin, but he isn't like that. He is so sweet for you, such a good boy, obediently giving himself to you. You are the one who can do anything you want with him.

It sends a thrill through you, making your skin tingle with excitement and pleasure.

You are breathing heavily, grunting and gasping, lost in a feral need. You hastily pull your soaked panties to the side, not bothering to take them off, too lost in this primal need to get your man's cock into your wet needy cunt.

Yuuji moans loudly when you bring his fat mushroom tip to your puffy wet clit, rubbing it against your little bud, using Yuuji's cock to pleasure you.

Hot waves of pleasure shoot through your whole body, your clit pulsing hotly as you rub it against Yuuji, almost in a frenzy now in your need to fuck him and fuck every thought of Sukuna away.

You feel exhilarated by the power you have. Rubbing your wet messy pussy over Yuuji's twitching fat cock, hearing him moan and gasp. You're teasing his fat cock, basking in what you can do to him, how you can reduce an Itadori brother to a whimpering needy mess.

You watch that pretty face as he moans and whimpers, so openly showing you his pleasure. So submissive and good for you. His lips open in a loud, strangled moan, and then he starts begging you,

"Fuck... ah ah baby! Oh, cutie, please fuck me. Fuck me, baby, please. I need you, please wanna feel you. Please let me feel your pretty pussy around my cock!"

Your cunt is twitching hornily at his words. The power surge almost makes you cum all over Yuuji's swollen tip. But you need more. You need all of him. You finally sink down on his fat length, taking him in you in one eager motion until you sit completely on Yuuji's muscular thighs, his cock buried all the way in you, and your feral groan fills the small bedroom.

You feel dizzy with lust, dizzy with power, unable to hold back now that your boyfriend's cock kisses your g-spot and fills you so fully. You cry out softly, cumming just from sitting on Yuuji's fat cock.

You dig your nails into his buff pecs as you let him feel your pussy twitch around his cock, watching his pretty eyes roll back when he feels your orgasm around his cock.

"Yuuji! Ah, baby, you feel that? That's what you do to me, baby! I love you so much! I love you and your pretty cock, oh god!"

Sukuna could never do this to you! He can break and humiliate you, force you to cum on his cock. But he can never make you want him! You clench your teeth, not giving yourself or Yuuji a break, and start bucking your hips against him, riding his cock eagerly.

Soon you are bouncing wildly on Yuuji's fat cock with your head thrown back, moaning and screaming his name as you ride him hard, not holding back. And he lets you use him, lets you fuck him while his large hands knead your ass. His hips buck needily fucking his cock even deeper into you, so eager, so horny. And so sweet with his loud, needy moans and mewls, with his moaned love confessions and sweet praises.

Your sweet Yuuji.

He doesn't know he is fucking his brother's cum deeper into you with each deep horny thrust of his cock. He doesn't know he is mixing two Itadori seeds in your greedy pussy when he cums with a loud cry and fills you to the brim with his hot seed.

You won't let Sukuna win! You won't let him spoil what you have with Yuuji! Yuuji is the one you love. Yuuji is the one who deserves to cum in you and who deserves your pussy, and who deserves your orgasms. You will give him that! You will be his girl! You will fuck him even harder and cum even more for him than you do for his brother!

You moan Yuuji's name, not stopping but going for another orgasm, smiling when Yuuji lets you, even though he is mewling from how overstimulated his cock is.

And you slide up and down on him feverishly, letting his fat girth drag over your swollen clit until the pleasure peaks again and you feel your next orgasm wash over you in hot waves.

And this time, you finally squirt on him, feeling your hot creamy wetness gush over Yuuji's fat cock and his heavy balls, giving him your all.

He moans loudly when he feels it, his large hands kneading your ass firmly, guiding you up and down on his cock, letting you cum and cum and cum.

"Fuck, baby!! Yeah, make a mess on me, cutie. Fuck!"

Your pussy is overstimulated and puffy from how hard you fucked yourself on Yuuji's gorgeous cock. But you don't stop but keep riding him wildly. It's messy, slippery, and wet from your combined fluids, your cream and squirt, and Yuuji's hot cum that is seeping out of your cunt.

But you need more! You are in a frenzy, driven by the urge to cum on him again and again, making sure Sukuna loses this fucking game!

Yuuji is mewling under you, overstimulated, but letting you use him regardless, so eager to give you pleasure. And you ride yourself to orgasm after orgasm on his gorgeous fat cock, while moaning and screaming his name over and over again.

"Fuck! Yuujiii! Yes yes!! You're gonna make me squirt again, baby!"

You almost black out when the next orgasm rips through you. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, so weak that you just slump on Yuuji's lap, moaning even louder when his fat tip presses even firmer against your g-spot.

But Yuuji's strong hands catch you and hold you, lifting you up and down on his fat cock, letting you ride your orgasm out on him, his golden eyes watching the spot where your pussy and his cock are connected. The spot where you squirt all over him again, making a sticky mess on his cock and his abs, showing him how good his cock makes you feel.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, Yuuji!! Oh, baby!! I love you! No one could ever fuck me as good as you!"

I hope you are still here somewhere, Sukuna. I hope you hear me fuck your brother and how much I love it. I hope you hear me scream his name like I will never scream yours.

You spend the following week being a clingy girlfriend to Yuuji. Always hugging him, always snuggling against him, following him from room to room. He notices it but doesn't mind. He wears a bright, sunny smile on his pretty face, happy that his girl loves him so much. And he moans so sweetly for you when you keep him up every night for hours, fucking him almost desperately until the bed is a mess from your combined cum.

You try to keep Sukuna away by always being by Yuuji's side, telling yourself that the evil twin will not dare approach you while his brother is by your side.

But it is hard at times.

Yuuji, Sukuna. Sukuna, Yuuji. They look the same, and it fucks with your mind. Sometimes, you get scared. Sometimes, you think Yuuji's fingers dig too firmly into your flesh. Sometimes, you think he is smirking at you. Sometimes you shudder when he fucks you from behind with hard, fast thrusts, and his low voice growls in your ear, sounding too similar to his brother.

You hate that the evil twin has that effect on you. That Sukuna somehow always seems to be with you, even when you are with Yuuji. But you have to make the best of this. You will love and fuck Yuuji even harder. You will spend even more time with him. Maybe this way, you can chase Sukuna completely away from your mind.

Maybe after college, you and Yuuji can move far away, making sure Sukuna will never find you again.

An old friend of Yuuji visits for the weekend. A guy with tousled black hair and dark blue eyes who watches his surroundings with a cool, intelligent gaze.

Fushiguro Megumi. He grew up with Yuuji. Went to school with him. They played together as little kids.

You wait until you are alone with him before you ask,

"Megumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever met Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna?"

Megumi's head whips around, and he frowns at you. His gaze is surprisingly hostile. Blue eyes narrow as he looks at you and answers in a cold voice,

"What do you mean? What sick game are you playing? Of course, I haven't met him. Sukuna died in the womb! Yuuji consumed his brother before he could be born. It's something that bothers him a lot. That's why he doesn't talk about it!"

The world around you seems to crumble away. You stare at Megumi, eyes wide, fingers tingling. For a long moment, a heavy silence fills the room. And then hysterical laughter bubbles out of your mouth. You can feel your mouth lift, stretching your cheeks in a horribly grotesque shape as your loud, hysterical laughter carries through the apartment, sounding shrill and insane.

And deep inside Yuuji, his evil twin throws his head back and laughs, too.

Do you understand it now, you stupid girl? There is no running from me. He is I, and I am he.

Thank you so much for reading the last part of "Brother"!! I hope you enjoyed it!! I had a lot of fun planning and writing this story. I love the horror elements, and I hope it could give you an uneasy feeling too lmaooo. It's so terrifying to me to imagine that the guy you love has the same face as the guy who does all those horrible things to you.

And how did you like the ending?? Ahhahaa, I am laughing with Sukuna. So much for running away together with Yuuji to escape his evil twin ;)

The smut part with Yuuji affected me A LOT. I hope my fellow Yuuji lovers had a feast with this!!

I hope you enjoyed this horror mini-series! Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #itadori x reader #itadori smut #yuji x reader #yuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #tw dark content #tw noncon

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shiny-jr · 1 year ago

Text

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done.

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue.

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream.

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink.

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue.

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.”

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks.

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier.

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed.

If you’re reading this,

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes.

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco.

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field.

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet.

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved.

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly.

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you.

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable.

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment.

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you.

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll.

I eagerly wait for word from you.

Until we meet again soon,

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest.

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time?

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?”

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago.

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.”

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...”

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read.

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries.

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...”

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.”

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!”

Dear player,

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies.

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise.

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain.

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us?

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay.

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor.

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient.

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace.

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you.

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now...

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace.

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask.

This is a pledge that will not be broken.

Cordially,

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly.

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either.

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.”

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?”

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.”

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile.

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there.

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind.

Great Player,

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary!

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you!

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self!

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth!

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well.

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know.

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds!

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be!

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written!

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste!

Faithfully,

Sebek Zigvolt

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again.

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you.

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster.

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve.

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!”

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

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demonpiratehuntress · 10 months ago

Text

I am actually so mad. I was working on this and for some reason it didn't save correctly and ended up posting a blank draft while deleting the stuff I had already written! I'm so sorry it took so long, @tiaramarijadhkxdyi755, but here it is! i hope this is close to what you wanted, because i wasn't sure how to go about it 🙈

taglist - @kabloswrld

patience with the Straw Hats

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - the ask above

warnings - mean/careless/neglectful Straw Hats, im sorry, i changed Luffy's and Usopp's because I don't imagine them ever screaming at or getting angry with their s/o 💕

ZORO

Zoro has a short fuse, and that's common knowledge. Everyone knows just how grumpy and aggressive he can be after a hard fight or a difficult day training. He's snapped at everyone more than once, but you seem to take the brunt of it since you're the closest to him, and today was no different.

"For fucks sake just leave me alone!" Zoro could be heard yelling at you all throughout the Sunny. "You're too damn clingy and I don't need your help right now!" He stormed off.

You stood there in shock, having just asked him if he was okay, and taken aback by the response you had gotten. It wasn't unusual for him to be angry, but he was really upset today for some reason. You decided to give him space, but you had to admit you weren't really hurt or upset. More so disappointed that he had once again pushed you away.

"Zoro-"

"What?!" He snapped, glaring at you as you came up into the crow's nest with some food. "I'm not hungry, just leave."

"But-" You started, until he did something unexpected.

He smacked the food out of your hands, sending it all over your face. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back a bit, stunned.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you apologised, giving him a soft smile, "I'll have food in the room once you're ready to eat."

You waited a long time until Zoro finally entered your shared room, looking embarrassed and guilty about his outbursts today. He didn't say anything as he crossed the room and sat down beside you, but when he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips you knew he was apologising.

"It's okay," you smiled gently, "I'm not upset. Just disappointed that you won't let me help you."

"I know I know," he admitted. "I'll work on it, I promise."

"What made you so angry anyway?" You squeezed his hand.

He sighed, "You almost got hurt in our last fight because I was distracted. It's been haunting me, and I just don't want it to happen again. I snapped because I wanted to train harder instead of resting or eating, so I can properly protect you."

You smiled at him again, "But you always do, that was not your fault babe."

He was so grateful to have such a patient, understanding and loving girlfriend.

SANJI

Sanji usually never snapped at or yelled at you. He didn't ever want to, and never had any reason to. He was sweet, loving and doting just like you were, but unlike you he did have his days where he went against his promise to never lash out at you or hurt you in any way. Today was one of those days. Usopp had pulled him away from some girls who were fawning over him, and he was irritated.

"Why did you do that?" He glared at the sniper. "I was having fun."

"You also have a girlfriend," Usopp reminded him, gesturing towards you. He was nervous now, because Sanji looked pissed off.

"So?" The cook scowled. "I can appreciate and talk to other women without cheating on her!" He spoke like you weren't right next to him. "Right, (Name)?"

"Right," you smiled, a bit disappointed but not showing it.

Then he was off, returning to those women to apologise and your crew turned to you, looking at you quizzically. Nami set her hand on your arm reassuringly.

"It's okay," you told them with a smile, "It doesn't bother me."

Sanji then returned, but was quick to notice the disappointed look you had on your face. He was about to ask but you shook your head and kissed his cheek, continuing your exploration of the island.

"Okay what's your problem?" He suddenly asked, annoyed, when you looked disappointed at another interaction between him and a pretty woman.

Your eyes widened, "I'm not-"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not stupid, (Name). You're obviously hiding the fact that you want to control my every move and stop me from ever talking to other women again."

That claim was so preposterous, you frowned, "I wouldn't-"

He quickly realised what he had said and his eyes widened, "No no no, my love I didn't mean that! I don't know why I said, I-I-" He fumbled for an excuse but sighed when he didn't have any. "I'm sorry, my love. Let me make it up to you, with your favourite dinner."

"Deal."

LUFFY

In all honesty, I don't see Luffy getting angry with or yelling at you. I think he's more of the neglectful type, when faced with certain situations like facing Boa Hancock out on the sea. She claimed she didn't know you guys would be there, but you're pretty sure she was stalking his movements. Luffy wouldn't listen though.

"It's okay, (Name)!" He replied cheerily when you voiced your concerns, "Hammock's really nice! And she has yummy food!"

And then he was off, leaving you to shake your head and sigh. You retired to your shared room, hoping that Luffy would eventually realise her intentions and come back.

He never did, and after a few hours you were starting to get lonely. So you ventured out to find him, only to see him giving her a tour of the Sunny.

"Luffy!" You called, but frowned when he seemingly ignored you as Hancock said something to him.

That was pretty much how the day went. You were ignored entirely by your boyfriend, simply because Hancock wouldn't let him pay attention to you. But you were disappointed in him too, for not telling her that you were dating and for not coming to spend time with you on his own.

When the day ended and Hancock retreated to her ship, bidding Luffy goodbye, the captain finally made his way to you. You weren't upset or sad, but Luffy could see on your face that you weren't feeling anything good.

"Are you alright, (Name)?" He questioned, hugging you.

"I'm disappointed, Luffy," you told him, but hugged him back and smiled anyway, happy to have him back.

"Disappointed?" He frowned. "Why?"

You sighed, "You didn't make any effort to come and see me for even a few minutes today. You spent the whole day with her. I'm not upset, because she helped you a lot, but I am disappointed that you ignored me."

He hugged you even tighter, "I'm sorry, (Name), really. We can spend the whole day together tomorrow!"

You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that's what you guys did everyday when Boa wasn't around.

USOPP

Usopp is another Straw Hat that I don't see getting angry or yelling easily. He's very patient with you, and he's understanding. He also doesn't have any aggravating circumstances, but the one thing he can be that disappoints you sometimes is careless. He can be very careless when it comes to what he says or does, because he usually acts on emotion.

And today, it seemed, he was missing his old crush Kaya. Because while you were shopping for clothes on one store, seeking to replace your torn and burnt ones, he kept yapping on about how Kaya had this and Kaya had that, and that hers were all real and genuine.

"I'm sorry I'm not Kaya, or as rich as her," you politely reminded him, not upset but starting to feel uncomfortable.

"It's okay!" He smiled, ignoring the subtle hint for him to stop talking about her. "I love you anyway!"

"Love you too," you smiled, but in your disappointment it didn't quite reach your eyes like it usually did. Still, you persevered, hoping he would stop by the next shop.

He did not.

"Kaya had something like this," he looked at the dress you were holding up, "But much prettier."

You frowned, again disappointed that he didn't like it. And that he had once again compared it to someone in his past that should be staying in said past.

Usopp noticed your expression, and his smile faltered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you smiled, shaking your head, "It's just not my style."

His eyes widened, "Woah, (Name), I didn't mean-"

"It's okay, Usopp," you kissed his cheek, "Let's go, I think we're done."

"No we're not," he took the dress, "This will look so much nicer on you than Kaya."

You opened your mouth to say something, but giggled when he refused to let you and bought it for you, dragging you back to the Sunny so you could show him just how much prettier you were than Kaya.

#one piece #op #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #usopp x you #usopp x reader #usopp #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you

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beckyninja · 1 month ago

Text

Comfort

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Some light suggestive content

Description: Lady Guilliman comforts her exhausted husband

Here's my first venture into the world of fanfiction, people. Keep in mind my knowledge of the Warhammer40k universe is mostly second-hand. Details may not exactly line up with canon. Be gentle, please!

By the damned Throne, I am tired.

Roboute Guilliman, Primarch, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium of Man, held his head in his hands. The words on the parchment before him blurred. He blinked rapidly, to little effect. His eyes burned.

What time is it, anyway?

The minutes, hours, days even, merged together in his mind. That same mind normally buzzed with a thousand thoughts, plans, theoreticals, and practicals. Not now, though. It seemed exhaustion had finally won. He felt… numb.

Why do I even bother? Why keep fighting?

He rubbed his hands over his face, struggling against the despair that had begun to haunt his waking hours once again.

Wake up, you fool! Think! There’s too much to do! Too much-

“My Lord?”

Guilliman’s eyes snapped to the tall, armored figure standing before his desk. He hadn’t even noticed the Ultramarine’s approach.

“Yes, Sicarius?”

To anyone else, the Captain’s face would have been a stoic mask. But Guilliman could see the slight twist of the lips that marked his disdain. That was a look he usually reserved for-

He pushed himself upright in his chair. “She’s here.”

Sicarius nodded stiffly. “Lady Guilliman,” he said your title like it tasted sour in his mouth, “has requested an audience.”

Guilliman winced. “Were those her exact words?”

“She requested,” again the look of disdain, “I repeat them verbatim, my Lord.”

Guilliman stifled a sigh. “See her in.”

A few moments later the door slid open and you entered. Guilliman felt his hearts stutter. Nearly a Terran standard year since the wedding, and the sight of your face still made him catch his breath. So small, so soft, so lovely.

And so very annoyed.

“My Lord,” you murmured, dropping into a formal curtsey.

Oh yes, you were most definitely annoyed.

He spoke your name, loving the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. The irritation in your eyes faded softly as they glided over him.

To anyone else he knew he would appear the image of the semi-divine Primarch. Indomitable and confident. He knew you saw more. You saw the furrows between his brows. You saw the hollows in his cheeks. You saw the weariness in his eyes. From the first moment he’d met you, he’d sensed your uncanny ability to strip away all pretense and see things clearly.

To see the man behind the demi-god.

“Oh, Roboute.”

Throne…

He could listen to you say his name for hours. He had, in fact. He’d heard you pant it. He’d heard you scream it. He wanted to hear you do so again.

Your eyes widened. Then the annoyance on your face vanished completely and you laughed.

“No, no, Roboute. You’re not distracting me so easily this time.” You approached, circling the desk you could barely see over to stand next to him. “We need to talk.”

“I can guess what about.” With effort, he tore his eyes from you and refocused on the stacks of paperwork littering the desk.

You reached out and laid a hand on his thigh. “You’ve been in here for a week, my love. An entire week. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept.” You sniffed, then wrinkled your nose. “You haven’t bathed.”

He felt his cheeks heat. “I have been working.”

You continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The administrators and officers are concerned. The serfs are whispering. Roboute, look at me please.”

He did, reluctantly.

“Your sons are even starting to notice something’s wrong.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “They’ve… spoken to you?”

“Lord Calgar himself suggested I might talk to you, Roboute. It’s gotten that bad.”

“Sicarious hasn’t seemed unduly concerned.”

You rolled your eyes. “That man has all the emotional sensitivity of a hunk of ceramite. Besides, I think he’d rather be fitted for a dreadnought than ask my help on anything.”

Guilliman huffed a short burst of air through his nose. “Still not getting along, I see.”

“I practically had to order him to let me see you. Yes, yes.” You waved a hand. “I know you’ve given me the authority. But I can’t imagine pulling rank on The Cato Sicarius will endear me to him.”

You shook your head. “All that is beside the point. In all the time we’ve been married, you’ve never shut yourself away for this long. You’ve never shut me out for this long. Roboute, what’s wrong?”

He stared back at the never-ending paperwork. Frustration welled within him, momentarily displacing the exhaustion.

“What’s wrong? Void, what isn’t wrong?!” He stood suddenly, causing you to shy back. “Here, a missive from the Ecclesiarchy, pontificating on and on about my lack of ‘enthusiasm’ for their nonsensical rituals. There, another Inquisitor foaming at the mouth about supposed heretics within my own Ultramarines. And there, the damned High Lords of Terra respectfully refusing to put another of my reforms into effect!” He slammed a fist onto the desk, cracking the priceless wood. “And all this while planets are screaming for aid from Tyranid hive fleets, Astartes chapters are stretched to their breaking points, and millions of lives are being snuffed out by the day! Stupidly! Wastefully!”

He only realized he was shouting when he saw the pained look on your face, hands clasped over your ears.

The frustration drained away, suffocated once more under the tide of exhaustion. “I am sorry, my love.” He slumped back into his chair. “I… I am sorry.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

You smiled gently up at him. “Please, Roboute.”

He stood.

“Thank you. Excuse me.”

Blinking burning eyes, he watched you scoot past him and clamber onto the seat of his chair. Then, after carefully moving a few stacks of paperwork aside, you climbed onto the desk itself, settling on your knees. Now your head was nearly at the level of his chest.

“Love? What on Terra are you-?”

You shushed him. “Turn the chair around, push it back against the desk, and sit down.”

He was a fool for you, that was the only possible explanation. That, and he was simply too tired for questions. He did as you asked, now facing the great window looking out upon the starry void. He took in the constellations and idly calculated the Macragge’s Honor’s exact position.

“Lean back.”

Something soft cushioned his head. Two somethings in fact. Two somethings he was quite familiar with under different circumstances. Then delicate fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

Oh. Oh Throne, yes.

You laughed softly at the groan that emanated from his throat. When one of your hands moved to knead the back of his neck, he swore he was melting.

“I cannot halt the Tyranids, or increase the Astartes.” You whispered. “I cannot talk sense into the Ecclesiarcy or the Inquisition. I could possibly chastise the High Lords, if I didn’t know they’d go straight back to being idiots as soon as my back was turned.”

Guilliman closed his eyes and focused on your words, your touch.

“I cannot take care of the Imperium. That is your duty, and no one else could do a better job.” Warm lips pressed against his cheek. “My duty is taking care of you. I knew it from the day I met you.”

“I love you, Roboute.”

“I love you too, my hearts.” He pressed the words past the lump in his throat.

“Then please, please let me do my duty. Let me care for you.”

What did I do to deserve this woman?

The fact that you’d come to him when he was at his lowest was almost enough to make him believe there was some all-knowing force for good in the universe. Almost. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

You sighed in relief. “Thank you, my love. First, we’ll return to our quarters and you’ll sleep. Then, I’ll have the cooks prepare a meal. A real meal, not that vile sludge you feed your sons. Then, a bath.”

“You’ll join me?” He muttered, already feeling the lure of sleep.

“I will.” Your voice was suddenly right next to his ear, “And, if you're very good, we’ll do more than bathe.”

At that his eyes opened and he craned his head back to look at you. You blushed at the look of hunger on his face.

“Sleep and food first, my husband.”

Suddenly energized, he surged to his feet, turning and sweeping you into his arms. “We’ll see about that, my wife.”

As you gasped and giggled, he smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in weeks. The universe was still on fire. The Imperium was still a cesspit. A million problems still awaited his solutions.

But you were here. His personal symbol of all that was still good in humanity. His one comfort.

He would keep fighting for you.

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bispecsual @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog

(I would tag more but I don't want to annoy anyone who didn't specifically ask for it. I'm just going to hope this makes the rounds eventually.)

#warhammer 40k #primarch x reader #roboute gulliman #roboute guilliman x wife #roboute gulliman x reader #lady guilliman #primarch

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