#got rid of the old post and just made this one since it seems other ppl have posted all the other info 😅

[tvlandofficiall]

full lineup of keychains from the deltarune gashapon!

[rax-writes]

↬ hellish elysian

Elysian - relating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.

Pairing: Crowley x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking / breath play, impact play, hair pulling, degradation, mention of blood kink

The original objective of this entire situation had been manipulation. But, at this point, it was impossible to tell who was manipulating whom – or if that was at all part of the dynamic anymore.

Post-human blood debacle, Crowley felt more vulnerable than he had in a few hundred years. Being around demons too often felt risky, lest they sniff out his vulnerability & use it to their advantage. But he craved touch, affection, and closeness – which made him feel like a whiny child, but he couldn't get rid of the craving without satiating it. The best option, in this “between a rock and a hard place” scenario, was none other than one of the people who had a hand in attempting to make him human.

You.

You clearly knew of his involvement in the third trial, and you were a human. Even though you were a hunter – a damn good one, at that – you were still just a human, so he viewed you as less of a threat than any demons he could use for sex.

Or, at least, that's how he justified it. The truth was that Crowley had wanted to fuck you since the day he met you – first just to piss off Moose and Squirrel, then simply because something about you made his trousers tighter.

On your end, the rationale wasn't too different from Crowley's. Given the endless flirtatious comments the King of Hell threw your way, you often contemplated whether you could use sex as a bargaining chip with him. Sure, he was undeniably hot, and something about that gravely accented voice made you flush. But it didn't seem to be a card you truly wanted to play – until you basically got a late night “booty call” text from an unmistakable 666 phone number.

You got some juicy intel out of it, and a couple of ancient relics, both of which helped on the next couple of hunts. The next time, you got a very old, very powerful protection amulet. The third time… well, you came so hard you passed out, so you just called that transaction square. The fourth time was just a lavish dinner, a horse-drawn carriage ride around Paris at night, and a stay in a hotel that was so over-the-top fancy you could scarcely believe your eyes.

You lost track after that, but eventually… there were no transactions, no trades. Just mind-blowing, spine-melting, moral-disintegrating sex.

Crowley still bought you dresses with four-figure price tags to wear to swanky restaurants, followed by stays in five star hotels or rented million-dollar homes, fucking the brains out of one another on every surface. But somewhere along the way, any attempts at personal gain via manipulation were lost, and the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

Which is what brought you to your current position – naked on silk sheets, barely clinging to consciousness as the King of Hell made you cum on his tongue for the umpteenth time that evening.

Crowley spoke, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. It sounded like he was far away as you gasped for air, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

“You look so pretty like this, pet,” he purred, absentmindedly kissing your inner thighs – each peck of his lips making you twitch. “Fucked within an inch of your life by none other than moi. Oh, I love to see it.”

Agonizingly slow, Crowley made his way up your body, leaving nips and kisses in his wake. Thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, throat, jaw – and, finally, your lips. As he situated himself between your legs, the familiar feeling of his rock hard cock grinding against your soaked pussy invaded your senses, causing you to sigh into the kiss. He continued to glide his shaft through your folds, teasing you until you began to whine.

“Something you want, darling?” Crowley asked lightheartedly, grinding harder against you. When you merely whined and hooked your legs around him, trying to pull him closer, he let out a condescending tsk tsk tsk. “You know what to say to get exactly what you want.”

However, his smirk faded when you rolled your eyes.

“I am not saying that.”

“You will if you want me to finish the job.”

That only made you smile, because god, it was always so fun to call his bluffs.

You shrugged, moving to leave the bed, “Meh, the job is finished enough, I'd say. We can go ahead and call it a day.”

Lightning fast, Crowley let out a quiet growl, grabbed you by the jaw, turned your head to face him, agitation written all over his face. You merely smiled – which only irked him more.

“Fine. You don't have to call me ‘my king.’ Just… just get back over here,” Crowley demanded, his voice becoming marginally more desperate at the end. You complied, falling into his arms on the bed, and he wasted no time in capturing you in a searing kiss.

One of his hands drifted lower to pump himself a few times, before snarling, “Cocky little bitch, aren’t you?” Before you could retort, he plunged into you in one swift thrust.

A loud, debauched moan escaped you, and you mindlessly raked your nails down Crowley’s back, earning a hiss from him – but you knew him well enough by now to know that he liked it.

The demon set a merciless pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, beard scratching the sensitive flesh there.

“Hit me.”

The words fell from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through, but Crowley was never one to hesitate. Almost instantly, you felt his palm collide with your cheek – somehow with the perfect amount of pain to make it absurdly pleasurable.

You toppled over an edge you didn’t even realize you’d been approaching, coming undone beneath him with a scream. Vaguely, you heard Crowley hum in amusement. Before you’d fully regained your senses, he was flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, using his grip on you as leverage to resume harshly fucking you. He seemed to be aware that you were practically mindless at this point, as he manhandled you however he pleased.

As a cacophony of wet, lewd sounds and moans filled the room, you momentarily had enough mental clarity to recall why the nature of this arrangement was so hot: it’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong – for a skilled hunter to be knocking boots with the literal King of Hell. But fuck, does it feel so right when he’s inside of you – hitting your sweet spot with brutal, precise thrusts, pulling your hair harshly to force you upright and into a messy kiss.

When the kiss broke, you let your head fall back onto Crowley’s shoulder, and his heavy breathing hit your ear as he wrapped a strong hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount. You clenched around him, and he groaned – low and deep.

“Such a filthy whore you are, darling,” Crowley stated, that damned gravelly, accented voice causing you to clench around him again. Keeping one hand around your throat, the other drifted from your hip to your clit, rubbing steady circles over it. “Mm, you love it when I talk to you, don't you? Whether it’s praise or degradation – as long as I’m talking, it gets you moaning and gripping my cock like a bitch in heat. You’re positively vile, pet. And I love it.”

There were tears streaming down your face from listening to him, and from him toying with your overstimulated clit, and the sight brought a dark chuckle from deep within Crowley’s chest.

“My little succubus,” he mused, then abruptly slapped you again before returning that hand to your throat to give it a firm squeeze.

It was all too much. You came again with a strangled cry of his name. Ever the egomaniac, hearing you finish with his name on your lips was almost always his ending point as well, and Crowley bit down harshly onto your shoulder as he finished inside of you.

The pair of you fell to your sides on the bed, spooning with his cock still inside of you. Crowley draped his arm around your waist, then kissed the bite mark he left on your shoulder. When you turned your head slightly to speak to him, your breath was stolen from your lungs when you noticed the crimson blood on his lips. He opened his mouth to apologize for having bitten you so hard, but then he noticed the way your jaw hung slack, your breathing grew heavier, and your pupils darkened to the point that your irises were fully eclipsed. And he smirked.

“A blood kink, love? Always full of surprises, aren’t we?”

“Go to sleep, Crowley.”

“Another time then,” he replied, not missing the way you smiled as you turned away from him.

[oblique-lane]

Oh why yes my good sirs. I've actually already made a post about him but I deleted it, so I'm bringing it back now. THE MOST PAINFUL ONE:

Inside of Medic

(Mostly headcanons/guesses)

I've been thinking about Medic's aspirations lately and I found that it's all a little trickier than might look at the first glance. What's the chance he likes medicine just for the sake of medicine? With the way he's obsessed with it, I doubt it's high. My man is a manic genius.

Yeah, how about we start the old story about The Doomed Since The Beginning? Medic is surely a very unusual individual, and while it's not a problem at the battlefield, it definitely must've caused him a lot of trouble as a kid.

I suppose it's started early. Imagine a child who dissects dolls/animals/other things(?) just to see what's inside. He's not afraid of blood, he's not afraid of what he sees. For him it's pure curiosity.

For others - a very disturbing sight.

"The child is a psychopath!" they rumor. They think he's going to grow up into a monster. "We should be wary of him!".

But the child doesn't understand their panic. It's not like he wants to kill people left and right? What's the problem? Well, the problem is that–

Other people are usually very empathetic to the point of actually feeling someone else's pain. Little Ludwig could never understand that.

Other people feel bad when they hurt others. Little Ludwig only felt bad for people treating him differently after he hurt them.

Other people mourn the lost of their loved ones. Little Ludwig never knew grief. He liked to have people around him, but once they're gone, he would simply move on because there's nothing else you can do.

He didn't know remorse, he didn't know the "inner morals" other people shared as if almost telepathically, he didn't know guilt.

That's when he learns that he's clearly not a normal person.

That sparked his curiosity even more: "What is it inside a person that makes him NORMAL and how does it get broken? Why is he like that? How to fix it? What does even make a person - person?"

So his obvious adapting solution was to become a biology enthusiast, and after that - a medic. That would justifiably allow him to experiment with the bodies and thus, feeding into his curiosity of what living things are. He masked a lot and his family made sure to pretend everything was fine and he's a nice boy to get him into a medical school.

"What is it that makes people abnormal?", he didn't seem to be interested in psychoanalysis, though. Maybe because Freud's ideas were too ridiculous and Jung's were too intangible for his liking. How come a human brain brain be so mysterious, it's just a piece of grey fat filled with electricity! Inject some chemicals inside it and it behaves 180° differently! Poke it, squish it, turn around - it's just another organ.

Conclusion: the brain is not the problem.

The problem must be the soul, then?..

(Assuming, Medic is a man of religion, knowing his relations to Satan).

But where is the Soul stored, exactly? He reminds me if the MC's girlfriend from the Matthew Stokoe's "Cows" (you don't need to search that, really) who was obsessively trying to enter her body in hopes of finding something that is "bad and rotten and makes our living so miserable". She believed it was something physical.

Well, in Medic's case, he was trying to find where the Soul in human body is. The Soul, responsible for God obedience and God repulsiveness; some pure, some stained.

And apparently, he found it.

He found it and immediately got rid of it in order to become "better than a human". To make others higher beings. Who knows, maybe the Soul was too ugly of a concept for him. Or maybe it was too small and laughable he couldn't stand it being taken so seriously.

He came to treat God as equal, since he's also now able to twist people's Souls like he owns them. He felt like he became more than he ever could be. He laughs at the greatness of his genius, feeling like he finally belongs; he finally is who he is, freely.

Maybe because he was never a person.

A Higher Man, a self proclaimed God. He's too blinded by his power to see what was inside his ever growing ego since the beginning.

If there is anything.

...

Tw N*zism

There should've been my headcanon about what Medic was doing before Mann Co. but I came to the conclusion that it's too inappropriate after all. No, Medic was not a n*zi ever but still this headcanon is based around the ww2 atrocities and I find it concerning to implement fiction over the real life tragedy. Or even if we consider tf2 univers alternative to the real life, I still think there's a lot of issues to it.

I've mentioned it in my other post but.

In short: Medic worked in the "prison" (the only place hired him, a dropout) as a scientist but instead of torturing the prisoners "for science" he modified their bodies to be strong as fuck, so they beat the shit out of guardians and escaped, and Medic flew to America where he was found by another science company.

I personally struggle with understanding of societal norms and morals so I actually can't say if what I wrote was really offensive or not. Even considering that my own nation was a victim of Holocaust. Just being cautious because don't want to be hurtful. If I was, I'll make a better headcanon and remove this, and if I'm good, let me know and I'll tell the details.

...

This was not an analysis, I've just thrown my visions at you shamelessly!!

Painful ending here!!!!!!! Please don't put a gun to my head, because *clank clank* I'm going it first!!!!

[maarriiii]

Creep | Jason Todd

A/N: rip to this post and all the notes but thank god I still have the copy

Summary: Some guy keep following you but Jason’s there to help you

Pairing(s): Jason Todd x female!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning(s): Suggestive content at the end

my masterlist :))

~~

"Quick, pretend like you're talking to me." Jason was forcefully turned around by y/n who kept looking over her shoulder like she's being followed. She was agitated and worried, but also donned a scowl that showed her clear annoyance. Jason tried to look for someone suspicious in the sea of guests, but no one stood out in his eyes.

"Why? Is someone following you? Are you okay? Do I need to grab my guns?" He asked, determination in his eyes.

If it was in any other situation, y/n would've smiled and rolled her eyes at his protectiveness but this guy had been trailing behind her since the start of Bruce's charity gala and it's getting on her nerves. The only reason why she hasn't kicked him in the balls yet was because she didn't want to make a scene, especially since last time.

"This guy just can't take a goddamn hint. He keeps following me and I'm tired of hiding just for him to find me again. This is my first night out since god knows how long and this creep is ruining it." y/n grabbed Jason's glass of whiskey and proceed to downed it one go, ignoring the dirty looks thrown her way.

"Why haven't you deck him yet?" Jason casually asked, ordering another glasses of alcohol.

"You think I haven't thought of that?" She whisper-yelled. "The only reason why I'm being "civil" right now is for Bruce's sake. Also, I've had enough of Alfred's disapproving looks to last me a lifetime."

Jason smiled, founding it amusing how y/n is handling her current dilemma. He was about to say that he'll offer to get rid of the creep when someone with eager eyes and even more eager steps started walking towards y/n and himself.

"Don't turn around, but I think your fan is making a move." He stated. "Does he have brown hair, blue eyes, and an extremely punchable face?"

y/n sighed and nodded. "Yup. That's him. So, you have any idea to get rid of this guy?"

Jason assessed the situation and if he's correct—which he usually was—then creeper over there would reach their location in about eight seconds. So, he needed to think and act fast. He could asked y/n to go and find someplace to hide, more preferably his old bedroom in the manor, but y/n had tried the same method and she made a good point about how he could just find her again. He could just go marched right towards him and tell him to back the hell off, but that would cause a scene that would probably get y/n and Bruce angry at him. Another one of Jason's plan was to threatened the guy passive-aggressively into cowering and leaving, but where would be the fun in that. With three methods out of the way and four seconds left on the clock, Jason had one final idea. Though, he haven't figured out how y/n would reacted.

"Alright, I have an idea. It might work, but I need you to promise me that you won't get mad," Jason explained.

"Okay. What is it?"

"You promise right?"

"Oh my God, yes, I promise. Now, tell me."

Without a word, Jason pulled y/n by the waist, leaving no space empty between the two vigilantes. y/n let out an oof sound when their chest collided while Jason slowly leaned in, their lips brushing but his eyes watching the scowl painted on the creeper's face.

"I think it's working," Jason whispered.

y/n gulped, her hands tightened slightly at Jason's suit collar. "Is it?"

"Yup. He's stomping away like an angry toddler."

"That's good," y/n answered dazedly.

Jason smirked, noticing how her eyes were closed. "You okay, princess? You seem a little flushed there."

"I...I'm fine. I just—" she paused, thinking for a moment "—are you wearing that cologne I got you for your birthday?"

"I am." He lowered his hands to her hips. "Do you like it?"

y/n nodded, her arms making their way around his neck. "I do."

Wordlessly, y/n kissed Jason with a vigor that he wasn't expecting, but welcomed either way. The two were in their very own bubble, oblivious to the fact that many people were staring and whispering about their steamy interaction. Their kiss was passionate and full of desire that made neither of them ever want to let go. It was only when the need of air became urgent that y/n had to let go with Jason's lips chasing after her own.

"That was long overdue, wasn't it?" She smiled, forehead leaning against Jason's.

"Yes, it is. So, what do you say we go back to my place and make up for lost time?" He suggested, trailing kisses to her jaw.

y/n kissed him again and pulled away. "I like the way you think, Jaybird."

[yandereunsolved]

Hii Im not sure if youre taking requests rn but if you have the time I would love for a yandere Kit Walker hc set or a yandere post death Kyle Spencer fic where the reader tries to leave him at Misty’s :)

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of baby trapping, mention of murder of child(ren), descriptive gore

♡ It all started out like a cheesy romance movie. Your car broke down, and Kit just happened to be driving by. He fixed your car and invited you back to his shop. He ended up changing your oil and tires for free. It evolved into the two of you dating shortly after. You never saw the warning signs—none of them. You never saw through Kit's honeyed words and his charming smile. You would have been better off if you just listened to that tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to run while you still could.

♡ You were stuck at his shop all day. He had gone home to retrieve some tools and never came back. You got worried that something may have happened to him. You weren't prepared for the gory scene you found. A trail of blood led to your bedroom, where you found Kit passed out near the mutilated corpse of a woman. Your clothes were thrown all around him, and he was cuddling them in his sleep. You freaked out and shrieked, which woke him up. He desperately tried to explain it to you. He pleaded with you to just listen to him. You didn't. You ran and reported him to the police. A part of your mind did want to believe him. The more time that passed, the more you believed in his innocence. Only you were wrong. He did murder all those people that he was accused of killing—over fifteen. He did it all for you. That is the secret he will take to the grave with him.

♡ He was put in Briarcliff Asylum while awaiting his trial. You were allowed to visit him, although it terrified you. You had heard such bloodcurdling stories about that place from the few patients that had survived it. Your visits with him always had to be monitored. Sometimes, though, no one would. That confused you, but you never verbalized it. Kit just threatened to kill the nuns if they interrupted your time with him. All of the nuns thought he must have been possessed by some lust devil. He just could never seem to get enough of you. Day and night, the only thing that came out of his mouth was praise about you—how pretty you looked, how vulnerable you were, how he had to protect you from the vile world that threatened to taint your purity.

♡ It was irritating, really. Protecting your visage wasn't easy when so many people tried to interrupt him. He had to get rid of Grace. It was really her fault. She just shouldn't have been flirting with him. She shouldn't have tried to come onto him. She shouldn't have ignored his warnings. He said multiple times that he was a man who was happily dating such a beautiful thing as yourself. Grace just didn't seem to listen to that. She even had the gall to interrupt one of your meetings with each other. He was in the middle of showing you how much he missed you. That was the last straw.

He made it seem like it was Doctor Arden's fault with a botched sterilization. He can clean that up himself. He's a big boy, and Kit isn't helping. He can't make himself look guilty in any way, of course. He could never let you know how much of a monster he really was.

♡ He has kept a ring in his pocket since the day he met you. The ring belonged to his grandfather. It's practically a family heirloom. He so desperately wants to put it on your finger. He just wants everyone to know that you belong to him—his darlin', his one and only. The thing is extremely shiny, too. It'd look so good on your hand. 

♡ That's not the only jewelry he has for you. He has a lot more tucked away in his trusty, rusty old red tool box. He stole all of it from the people he killed for you. He plans on giving it all to you as wedding gifts. He'll fix all of the pieces, of course. He'll wipe the blood away and make sure none of it stains your beautiful figure. He also stole their money from their bank accounts. He has more than enough to keep you both financially stable until you die. He would never let his little house spouse work with some other man. The thought of it just makes his hand itch to reach for an axe. 

♡ He fantasizes about what your wedding would look like. You'd look like a god(dess) walking down the aisle toward him. You wouldn't need anyone but him and the priest. He would kill the priest after. You wouldn't know that. It's just that he can't let anybody see such a holy sight except for him. He wouldn't want to risk somebody making an off comment or lusting over your figure. 

Your body is yours and yours alone. It's also his, if you'll allow him to have it. 

He can't wait till the wedding night. He has it all planned out. After your dinner, you'll both bathe together. He'll set the mood. You both will have each other for the first time in marriage. It's something that makes his mouth water when he thinks about it.

♡ If you can get pregnant... He will immediately try for a baby with you. He just thinks your belly would look so adorable swollen up with a mixture of you and him. You'd be completely dependent on him. You wouldn't be able to leave, and he'd be the best father to your children. Not to mention, he can teach them how to be protective of you. It'll be absolutely perfect! You'll have no way to escape!

♡ If you are unable to get pregnant... Kit doesn't want you to worry. He'll just pick a random kid off the street if he needs to. He'll kidnap a baby from the hospital and say he adopted them. He could go the legal route for adoption as well, if that would better please you. Anything to keep you with him until you both die in each other's arms.

♡ He ideally wants anywhere from two to five kids. He's always wanted one girl and one boy. He'd ultimately want five because you'd never leave him all alone with five children. Sure, you could run off with two, three, and a slim chance of four, but five? No. You have absolutely no chance of escaping him, then. Unless you wanted to abandon them and him, that is. That's fine! He'll just threaten their lives. He'll kill one of them if it convinces you to stay. There are no lengths he wouldn't go to to prove his unending love for you.

♡ He already has your shared casket picked out. He picked it out within the first week of both of you dating. He's already written both of your wills with your future children in mind. He has the plot of land picked out and everything. He may not be a rich man, but he'd spend every penny he has to make sure your shared resting place is envious to the heavens.

♡ The day he is released is a day that will live in infamy within his mind. He finally knew that he had to tie you to him, both literally and figuratively. He understood how fickle humanity is. He needs to save you from the dangers and trauma he faced while in there. The same Kit that came into the asylum isn't the same one that came out. He's a lot more open about his obsessive and possessive tendencies. That crazed look in his hazel irises isn't clouded by his sweet and homey nature anymore. You could see it; you can see it now. You couldn't escape.

♡ He doesn't allow you to leave the house for the first few months. If you try to escape, then it'll be even longer before he allows you to roam free without many restraints. You are trapped within a prison of his own desire. He gaslights you into believing it's for the best. You know how dangerous the world is out there. He's been through the asylum. He knows. He just wants to protect you. Can't you see that? He's traumatized and wants to protect you from that trauma. So that means locking you away in your shared house and keeping you there. Don't worry about boredom. Kit will buy you anything that will make a smile appear on your features. He's addicted to it. You have no shortage of books and other trinkets to keep you entertained while he is out working. Just not anything that you could use to communicate with people. The last thing he needs is you getting that silly little idea in your head to call the police on him. 

♡ After about a year in captivity, assuming you haven't made numerous escape attempts, he'll propose to you and allow you to take short excursions with him. The wedding is just as he thought. It's just you, him, and the priest in the middle of the woods, only a few miles from your shared house. You may not have any guests or family, and he may have foraged the wedding certificate by signing fake people as witnesses, but your marriage is still real. A piece of paper doesn't define your love for each other. Of course, he murders the priest after. He chopped him up into tiny pieces with his axe, soaked his body in a mixture of chemicals, and then left those pieces of him at the bottom of lakes, rivers, and streams at least twenty miles away from the house. If you ask him what he's doing, he'll simply say that he's doing some spring cleaning. He's just taking out a bunch of old trash, that's all.

♡ Even when you gain more privileges, Kit still always has an eye on you. He's always close to you. He'll give you the illusion of space and privacy if he needs to. If you distance yourself too much from him, then he'll sweet talk you into letting him into your space once again. You don't feel good? It's because you haven't let him make you feel good in a while. You feel depressed because you aren't around him as much. You're isolating yourself from him. That's the problem. The problem is you. He'll be right here when you inevitably crawl back to him. He'll shush you and pepper kisses all along your body. You'll realize that you need him even more than he needs you. 

♡ Give it two to five years and a lot of begging, and he'll let you help him while he works. He doesn't let you do any hard labor or interact with the customers. No, honey, he keeps you safe and sound in the back of the shop. You can clean his tools, sort his things, and perhaps even handle the money if he trusts you enough. It may look mundane to most people, but you crave it. You've been starved of any autonomy for the past few years. Being able to control a small workplace is like being somewhere safe, somewhere without Kit. You can allow your mind to drift off and fool yourself into thinking that you are safe. You can just imagine that Kit is nowhere to be found. You can almost taste freedom on your tongue during those fleeting moments.

♡ If you ask for help from someone, he kills them and burns their bodies to ashes in the hearth in your home. He finds it extremely romantic. He'll cuddle into you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He'll nip at your skin and mark you up. He's just a bit jealous. He's just a little more possessive. He can't believe that you thought someone else was better than him. He can't believe you wanted to leave him. He'll show you how good you have it. He'll just have to show you again how good he makes you feel—inside and out. The vile dead bodies of the people who have tried to help you take you away from him will keep you both warm at night. He'll take you right in front of the fireplace. He'll claim you again near the sizzling embers of those who dared get near you.

♡ Kit Walker is still as in love with you as the day he laid eyes on you. He has fallen even further into the depths of his own obsession with you. He's ready to take the next step and start a family with you. He can't wait to see your little ones running around the home. He can't wait to see them graduate with you. He can't wait to grow old with you; his devotion to you never faltering. He just needs you to be with him forever, even into the afterlife. He loves you. He'd kill the devil and every god in existence if he had to, just to keep you in his arms forever more.

-‘๑’-

ׂׂૢ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @marchsfreakshow @violet1737

-‘๑’-

[chaoticallywriting]

A Merciful King ☼ Epilogue

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: talk of death, blood, torture, childbirth

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: It has been exactly a month and fourteen days since I posted the first chapter to this series (on my old account). I had no clue it would go this far or that so many would love it, I'm so used to my writing not being received at all or only being received by very few. The response I've gotten for this story is overwhelming and honestly I love all of you guys for the support you've given me. Despite being ready for a new story I think I'll always have a soft spot for amk and I know I'll miss this series. On a story note, the second to last like 'scene' is both of their povs, mainly readers but I decided to mesh their thoughts in certain bits. I also took inspiration for the crown from jesus because despite not being religious I like the flare of it.

Synopsis: The war is over, the blacks have lost, and as Rhaenrya’s daughter it is your duty to marry a green to secure your younger brothers safety. If only Aemond paid attention to you like his brother does.    

Taglist, if you asked to be tagged and you aren't on the list it's because it wouldn't let me add you so I just got rid of your name. It only lets me tag 50 people so I'm sorry!: @mirandastuckinthe80s @b1gb3anz @daenerysdracarys @wondergal2001 @flavorofsalt @daddysfavoritesexkitten @zillahvathek @itsametaphorbriansblog @elleclairez @stargaryenx @tired-ninfa @caramelcandescence @viscardiac @moonxhunt @tisthekatseason @bajadotcom @xxlilyxx90 @ohitsthemaster @justasmallbean @thefloatingpickle @lawlerek @miqaelababa @arcielee @watermel0nsugarhigh @lovecleastrange @lyannesworld @imakeangelscry @aloneatpeace @xinyourdreamsx @cl-0-vr @borikenlove @shion-ah @widemiffyhappy @aegonsgf @bwormie @bellameshipper @evienorville @mandiiblanche @hydrationqueensworld @shiranai-atsune @hiatuswhore @giulia2372 @venice-bish @malfoytargaryen @crudemoon @crispmarshmallow @trifoliumviridi @wooya1224

Previously

Aegon Targaryen dutifully stays by your side while you recover. He doesn’t move from the rather uncomfortable chair, nor does his hand leave yours. Unfortunately, none of the lords nor guards were able to locate his brother, only found two different trails of blood. One leading from a study to the ballroom and the other leading from the same study to where Aemonds bastard son, Jaerion, was sleeping.

He has already told his mother his decision, that when you wake up he will marry you. She only nods, face solemn, as she goes back to mourning her favorite son. He’s not dead, that much is obvious by Vhagar’s behavior, but he is gone. The preparations have already begun, he’s decided the ceremony will be in the Grand Sept and a celebration will be held in the gardens. He understands why you might have an aversion to the ballroom.

Aegon tells you all of this while you sleep, there are only a few times you wake up from your milk of the poppy induced slumber and all you speak is gibberish. You ask for your handmaid Lila, you keep mumbling her name, but unfortunately no one can find her. 

Your marriage has been annulled, Aegon made sure of it during one of the most recent small council meetings (it's the only time he leaves your side). The small folk had shown so much outrage at learning that their favorite princess had been hurt by her own husband. 

Many began to gossip that something seemed amiss that day during the festival, that he seemed too tense and neither of you seemed to even notice each other's presence. This fairy tale that they were spoon fed was a lie, and all of Flea Bottom knows that the reason children are no longer dying of starvation is thanks to you. 

He tasks his mother and daughter to have your wedding dress made, the royal tailors already have your measurements so that should be easy. Giving them this task helps ease his daughter's anxiety, he even asks her to see if the boys would like to help. His only request is that the dress did not have any green on it, much to his mothers dismay. Aegon knows how much you’ve grown to hate the color, and he wants this to be a memorable and lovely day. 

“I love you,” he whispers, you groan in response.

Upon fully waking up, Aegon is filled with something he has not felt since Jaehaerys’s murder. You tell him and Alicent everything, it’s hard to ignore the face she makes when you mention stabbing Aemond, but you simply remind them both of what Alys has done. 

He wants to send out search parties all throughout the free cities, to put her head on a spike, and you keep quiet throughout his raging, not minding the idea. It is Alicent that shoots him down and reminds him of how that may make the leaders of said cities believe he is trying to attack them. 

So instead, search parties are sent all throughout Westeros (once again) looking for your handmaiden. Upon waking up, one of the first things you did was ask for Lila, Aegon had foolishly believed that maybe the two of you harbored a friendship, so imagine his surprise to find out the truth.

He feels the same outrage you do, those handmaidens were picked by him and his mother, and yet one was the reason for all of this? A taster is hired, all your meals are tested before being brought to you, and all of your handmaidens have been swapped.

“What kind of flowers?” he asks you one day, leaning on his hand that’s propped up by his elbow. He’s laying at the end of your bed, watching you sip on the broth the maesters brought you. ‘It has healing properties’ they said, but the face you keep making leads him to believe it’s just a new form of torture for you. Nevertheless, you drink all of it, every day since waking up you've drank and everyday you comment on how rancid it is. 

“Dragons breath, and black lotus’s. They’ll perfectly display our house colors,” you set the empty mug aside and reach out for him. Aegon eagerly moves from his position at the end of the bed to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. 

He’s more at ease now that he doesn’t have to hide his love for you, some of that possessiveness and jealousy has waned away. Aegon is finally being granted his wish of calling you his, he just wishes so much tragedy hadn’t taken place to get here. 

“I want them filling the Sept,” you say, arms wrapping around his waist. Your eyes seem elsewhere, perhaps dreaming of the upcoming day. He’s thought about it with great detail and finds himself wistfully imagining the rest of his life with you. 

It makes Aegon feel like a silly child, like he needs to be scolded and reminded he cannot have such wonderful things. Yet you are in his arms, agreeing to marry him. When you woke up, and he told you the news, there was no fighting, no resentment or anger, only a sigh of relief. 

“Would you want a valyrian ceremony?” He knows there will need to be one following the faith of the seven, the lords and ladies will not approve of their marriage if they don’t. But perhaps, if you want, there can be another one, a more intimate one.

It’s silent for a few beats, your expression contemplative and lips pursed. “No,” you run your fingers up and down his chest, your eyes almost glazed over as you look at Rhaenyra’s bassinet. “I do not want to shed any more blood for a long time.” 

Part of Aegon feels relieved, if you had said yes he would do it, but the idea of seeing you bleed again (it’s only been a month) terrifies him. That night you laid limp in his arms as the Maesters got to work, they did the best they could while still in the ballroom. Maester Orwell had said they must act fast, that moving you to a private room would have to wait or else you would perish from blood loss. 

Aegon’s hands had been stained red for days, Alicents too. He had held his hand on top of the wound with his mother, trying to help in any way. Some courtiers stayed to watch, while others ran in disgust when they saw how much blood was smeared all over you. Most of the men were gone by that point, having ran out to try to secure themselves a seat on the small council. 

He didn’t realize just how much blood was on him until two guards slowly lifted you onto a wooden board and gently carried you to your chambers. He was knelt in a large puddle, as was his mother, and Aegon had held you for a long period of time. You were smeared all over him, staining his clothes, his hands, some had even gotten on his face.

The poor king was in shock, sat staring at the massive puddle, reflection gazing back at him as tears filled his eyes. You had almost died, the maesters even told them there was a chance you would die within the first few days of recovery. They talked about loss of blood, bed fever or even infection. Somehow you prevailed, and Aegon doesn’t know who or what to thank for such a miraculous thing. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingers stilling as your gaze shifts to look into his eyes. His face softens, mind being pulled away from the thoughts that plague his mind late into the night, and brings his lips down onto yours. The kiss is chaste, it’s nothing like how he normally kisses you, but perhaps a near-death experience softens a man. 

“I love you too.” 

You looked radiant, the dress was made of the finest white silks, it was form fitting and had gauzy sleeves and a cape that trailed behind you. There’s little silver dragons on your sleeves and cape, along with a metal belt that looks like a dragon taking flight around your waist. You looked like the perfect Targaryen bride. 

It’s three days after your wedding when the news reaches the both of you about Lila. She was found hiding in a pleasure house in Flea Bottom, apparently trying to make enough money to find safe passage to Pentos. The guards drag her into the throne room while Aegon sits upon the iron throne with his crown nestled perfectly upon his head.

You stand beside the throne in a dress made of black and red fabrics with gold detailing and a valyrian steel circlet that matches Aegon the Conqueror's crown. He had ordered it to be made three days before your wedding and placed it upon your head himself after the two of you had kissed.

The guards shove her onto the floor at the bottom of the steps, hands on their swords as they watch her every move. Aegon wants to order her death immediately, his chest rises and falls as he takes in the traitorous woman who helped kill his son, who tried to kill you. 

Surprisingly, she does not beg, nor does she weep or even look a little scared. Her eyes stay set on you, a hardened expression on her features as she never wavers. Gone is the girl you described her as, and in her stead sits a woman who looks ready to try to finish the job. 

“Why?” Is all you say, voice shaking with barely contained rage. Your hands are clasped together, tightly clenching your fingers as you take her in. All Aegon sees is blood that needs to be shed. He finds himself itching to grab his sword and do it himself, to slice her to bits that he will later feed to Sunfyre. 

“Your stepfather killed my father and little brothers in the war, there wasn’t even anything to bury once he was done with them. My mother followed soon after by her own hand.” Lila grits teeth, chest raising and falling. Her hands have been chained, as have her ankles, but still she yanks on the chains as if she believes herself strong enough to break them. “Alys offered revenge, I was happy to accept.” 

He leans forward, practically seething now. No one else is in the room besides the sworn guards, who happen to be Ser Criston and Ser Arryk. His mother stands on the opposite side of the throne, with Otto beside her. His words will never leave this room, he’s sure of it. “So you killed my son?!” 

Alicent jumps at the volume of his voice, hand clutching her chest, and Otto sighs. His wrinkled hand rubs his forehead, probably disappointed in him yet again. You on the other hand, stay with your back straightened, your hands reddened from irritation as you glare at this woman. You told him how you thought she was a friend, he cannot imagine how you must feel. 

“I believe it was Daemon Targaryen himself who once believed it was okay to seek revenge for the killing of a child, my youngest brother was only four and ten, just like yours was.” Lila briefly looks at him, that same barely contained rage in her eyes, before looking back at you. “A son for a son, Alys called it. I think my mother would have appreciated me seeking what little vengea-” 

You storm over to her, snatching her by her chin and roughly pulling her face up to look into your eyes. Aegon stood, ready to defend you, as he just barely heard your words. 

“Death would be too kind a sentence,” you spit out, “I shall have you tortured in the dungeons for as many years as we can keep you alive, perhaps I might stop by to watch occasionally.”

You shove her to the floor, body shaking as you clench your fists. Aegon comes down to stand beside you, a hand on your shoulder to say ‘I’m here, I understand.’ 

Ser Criston looks to him for confirmation, he seems astonished by the sentence, but all Aegon does is nod. Why would he go against your command when it is you she wrought the most pain against. Aegon grieves his son, misses him too, but Lila betrayed you the most. He won’t take choices from you ever again. 

Criston and Arryk pick her up, beginning to drag her away when she calls out, “you are a wicked beast! I wish I had managed to kill you!” 

He’s astonished by your response, he wants to grab your cheeks and pull you into a kiss when you confidently reply “you’re right, I am a dragon after all, and it will take more than your puny poison to kill me.” 

Gods, he loves you. 

He had danced with you all night, not a drop of wine was needed after the ceremony, his lips had hardly left yours. All your favorite foods were served, songs you both loved strummed out by the bards. You even picked up Jaehaera and brought her into dance with you two at one point. He had waved Aegon and Viserys over, so they could join too. Aegon never thought he’d have such a joyous wedding, let alone a little family that loved him like this.

Aelar is named heir while you are still a sweaty mess in your birthing bed. His older sisters Jaehaera, Rhaenyra and Saera all crawl onto the bed to get a peek at their little brother, excited giggles filling the room. He lets Otto announce to the kingdom that Aelar is born, he can’t bear to be away from you right now. Not when you're glowing like this, not with his son in your arms. A healthy baby boy who is alive. 

Aegon III and Viserys visit later, both boys having been training in the yard when the news broke out. The labor had been quick, so had Saera’s thank goodness. They ask to pick the egg out themselves and the two older girls all but demand to come with, Aegon watches as you smile at their childish bickering, little Aelar still in your arms. 

“Would you like to hold him?” You ask, voice low enough that the kids don’t notice. Honestly, Aegon is scared too. He had practically snatched Saera out of your arms when she was born, so excited for another child to spoil, but Aelar is smaller and the past still haunts the both of you. 

He nods, heart pounding as you slowly shift him into his arms, the second yours are free Saera climbs into them. She’s only just turned one, her brain probably has no clue what’s going on. The both of you had decided to wait for another child after Rhaenyra, the trauma left behind was too fresh. Both of you were scared that another birth would take you, or that you would perhaps deal with another stillborn. 

By now, Rhaenyra is five and an absolute spitfire, she constantly talks and always wants snuggles from her father before bedtime. It was due to her that Saera was born, she had begged for a little sibling despite Jaehaera telling her ‘they can be annoying sometimes’. Rhaenyra had thrown a pillow at her in response and stomped her little foot, lips pouting as she stared up at him. 

That night he had talked with you, and you agreed to stop drinking moon tea. Both of you were scared, but the pressure for an heir was ever present, and enough time had passed. The wound was still there, just like the scar on your stomach, but it had faded with time. Both of you hardly thought about Lucerys II anymore. 

Aelar squirms in his arms, tiny feet slowly kicking in the air, he’s all squishy and red like newborns are, but Aegon thinks he’s perfect. You lean your head against his shoulder, arms wrapped around Saera who gently tugs at your hair and stares at your son. This, him, he’s perfect. Suddenly Aegon forgets about the stress, the pressure, the desire to throw his crown into a crowd and walk away. 

Perhaps now life will be a little easier, perhaps the work of a king will be worth it when he thinks of how one day Aelar will inherit it. 

“I love him,” he whispers. By now, all four of the kids have run off with guards trailing after them, most likely to pick out an egg together. His gaze shifts to yours, eyes meeting in a loving stare. “Just like I love you.” 

“I lo-” Saera shrieks, hands roughly grabbing your cheeks as she surges forward. The both of you laugh at her silly antics.

The morning of his wedding, Otto had tried to discuss matters regarding the realm, he had all but tried to shoo him away. Unfortunately, his grandfather is a stubborn man. “There is also the matter of your… Assassins.” 

Aegon stills, telling all the servants shuffling about his chambers to leave as he finally faces his grandfather. Of course, nothing gets past this man. “Can I not have one happy day? One without business or whatever dreadful thing you're about to tell me.” 

“I have not told your mother about the horde of mercenaries you have hired to kill your brother, but I do want to remind you to restrain yourself. Even if another man kills him, since you were the one that paid for it, you would still be a Kin slayer.” 

Aegon shrugs, hands running through his cropped hair as he eyes the decanter left on his dresser. “I do not care, besides the last update I received is them being run out of Pentos. None of them have found where the roaches are now hiding.” 

Just one glass, he thinks while pouring himself a chalice full. You would need this too if you were stuck talking to Otto. “Seems the lords there were fond of Daemon Targaryen, they have not taken lightly to the news of his stepdaughter being harmed. Dorne also kicked them out for killing a child, I believe they didn’t fare well in Essos either.” Aegon takes a swig, leaning against the dresser as he glares at his grandfather, “either my mercenaries kill them or starvation will finally hit. They must have run out of money by now.” 

“Saera claimed Vhagar,” you say one evening, you're pregnant with your fifth child by now. Aegon stills, hands full of important documents that he’s drowning in. The words circle through his mind, trying to think of what to say as realization sets in. “The dragon keepers were surprised, seeing as she is only four and….” 

You're wringing your hands out, feet propped up by a stool, while you sit in your armchair. He wonders if you’ve told his mother, does she know? Should he go check on her? She’s been so focused on Helaena’s recovery, a new-found confidence in her daughter surging within her ever since Helaena has finally started leaving her room. Should he be the one to ruin that happiness for her? He’s ruined everything else, so it wouldn’t be anything new. 

“Oh,” is all he says, his throat is suddenly so dry. Aegon thinks to pour himself another glass of wine but for some reason he can’t unclench his hands, the papers within them crinkle, some rip. The stress did not leave upon Aelar’s birth, the weight on his shoulders has only grown. Now he wants to leave a perfect kingdom for him, and no matter what it seems he can’t. 

You slowly pull yourself from your chair, letting out a low groan as you waddle over to him. You’ve complained recently of your feet aching, it’s late into your pregnancy and any day you may go into labor. He wonders if it’ll be another boy like Rhaegar or if they’ll have another girl. He doesn’t know which he wants more. 

You stand in front of his desk, gentle hands on top of his as you slowly peel his fingers back. He gulps, staring at your hands, once stained red with your own blood. There are scars on both of them, Rhaenyra asked you about them recently.

Aegon had stilled at the dinner table, a dark look coming over his face as he recalls that horrid night. But you, ever the smart woman that he loves, just smiled and said, “sometimes a mother must make sacrifices.” 

It had been vague enough to confuse her and keep her from pressing for more information. Jaehaera though had stopped eating as well, eyes on your hands as she too recalled that night. Her name day has never been the same, every year she thinks of you in that puddle. 

“It was most likely peaceful” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts. Aegon knows you still despise him and while he too hates his brother for what he did At this moment he realizes what this means. His brother is dead. The boy he used to tease as a child, the one who covered for him when he would run off to Flea Bottom. The little kid he used to steal food from. He’s dead, and Aegon doesn’t even know how. Some time passes before you kiss his forehead and head to bed. Aegon finds himself slowly standing up, deciding to join you when his hand slips, papers sprawling across the floor.

He lets out an annoyed huff before bending down to pick them up, his hand sifts through the pile, bunching them in one hand while the other grabs the rest. His hands grasp onto something unfamiliar, brows furrowing when he finds a letter amongst the stack. 

Aegon shoves the unimportant (but actually very important) papers onto the desk before ripping open the letter, the letter is short, it’s signed ‘Nightshade’. His heart drops. 

“It’s done, proof is enclosed. 

~ Nightshade” 

Aegon digs inside the envelope, producing two strands of silver hair and one black. 

“You would still be a Kin slayer.” 

Aegon cannot bear to speak after that, he can’t even respond when you sleepily say you love him. The stunned man only nods in response. 

The cake served was a honey cake, he thinks, no he knows because that is your favorite cake. It was honey and your hair was pinned back, silver dragon pins found throughout your hair. You looked stunning that day. 

Everyone has caught on, the king is different, he’s quick to temper, erratic, stressed. He’s constantly seeking you out, so he can calm down, hands shaking and crown askew. Aemma lays in her cradle as you hold him. Aegon won’t say why, he can’t seem to fathom telling you what he’s done. 

“It’s too much” he sobs one day, hands clenching your dress as you hug him. “It’s too heavy!” 

You frown, pulling away and cupping his red cheeks, you look concerned, scared. Aegon can’t blame you, he’d be scared if this was you. “My love, talk to me, please. What is too heavy?” 

He chokes on his sobs, head resting on your chest. You take off his crown, throw it onto the bed and rub his back. “This feeling, I did it! I did it and I can’t take it back!” 

“You must tell me what this feeling is, so I can help you, maybe it won’t feel so heavy if you tell me.” 

Aegon pulls you closer until your body is flush against his, “I forgot she was still employed by me, everything was going so good, and she hadn’t found him in years s-so-” he sniffles, body shaking, “I forgot.” 

You nod along, one hand playing with his hair in a way that you know soothes him. “My last assassin killed Aemond, she killed his whole family.” 

He whispers the words, scared somehow the walls will hear and scream it to the whole realm. ‘Aegon killed his brother!’ They would screech, ‘he’s a kinslayer!’ 

Your ministrations stop, body suddenly so still as you take in his words. He’s scared you’ll scold him, reject him, show him the disgust he knows he feels for himself. Instead, you pull his face away from your chest, despite his protests, and look into his eyes. He doesn’t find any of those things, only sorrow and concern. 

“You forgot?” 

He nods. 

“Then you did not mean it, and therefore it was not you.” 

It's shitty reasoning, but he’ll take whatever you give him. He launches himself back into your arms. By now, the front of your dress is soaked, but neither of you comment on it. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats like a mantra. 

“And I, you” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. 

He can’t remember what kind of flowers were draped throughout the Sept, nor can he seem to remember the necklace you wore, despite it being a gift from him. Aegon can’t remember if you sat on his left or right, and he knows he used to remember that. 

“I want to talk to you,” you start. Aegon is laying in bed, boots kicked off and only in his small clothes. Lately there have been bags under his eyes, he’s lost weight and despite your talk a few weeks ago he still seems on edge. You’ve sat in on many of the small council meetings and noticed how detached Aegon has become. Many of the members scoff when they must repeat themselves. You're scared. 

Aegon pats the spot beside him, you crawl onto it but stay on your knees, a hand resting on his thigh as you gaze at him with concern. “What of?”

Even his tone sounds tired. Your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, “I have an idea, but you must hear it out before you make any comments.” 

“If this is about that new thing you heard the ladies gossip about, I will not let it anywhere near my as-” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I want you to abdicate.” 

It’s silent, he looks confused, the only sound in the room is the crackling fire. You had moved Aemma to the nursery when you noticed how tired he seemed, best let him get as much rest as possible. “The stress is destroying you and-” you scoot forward, forehead pressing against his, “I can’t keep watching as you fall apart. I just want to see you happy again.” 

“Aelar is too young,” Aegon concludes, brows still furrowed. 

You chew on your lip before pulling away from him, hands dropping into your lap. You wring them out as you look down at them, the words that leave you shock him. “I know, but you have me, I could do it for you until Aelar is old enough.” 

“That’s unheard of,” he leans against the pillows, watching you nervously fiddle with your hands. You sigh, shoulders slumping as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Yes, but not impossible. If I take over, you could relax, be with the kids more, take a deep breath. At this rate, if you keep going you’ll die from the stress alone.” You lean forward, leaning against your hands that are now flat against the bed. “I do not wish to lose you, and the kids are worried about you.” 

He gulps, even after so long such words still seem foreign to him. Every time his children tackle him or excitedly shriek at his presence he looks around for what is so interesting, it’s always him though. He doesn’t know how, but they love him, so do you, so do you his nephews. Even Alicent is gentle with him now. He’s taking on so much to keep you from it and yet you're sitting here asking for the stress, the burden, to help him. 

The small council would not like that, nor would Otto, and probably not his mom. The kingdom might be confused by it, but they do love you. Having you on the throne does not change the succession either, it would still fall to Aelar, so there would be nothing to worry about in that regard. 

“Let me be queen, so you may be the father you wish to be,” you say it so sincerely, so earnestly. How can Aegon say no to that? He hardly ever says no to you, he can’t start now. 

“You love me?” He asks, it’s the first time he’s had to ask in years, but this decision involves all the trust in the world. He needs reassurance. 

You nod, a smile on your beautiful lips as you sit back down, “I do, so much.”

You try not to remember your first wedding, the day was somber and against your will. None of it had been planned by you, and you had to keep from crying at the altar. But your wedding to Aegon? He made sure you helped plan it and when the day arrived everything fell together so perfectly. For a moment you forgot all your pain, all your heartache. That wedding you remember vividly, even as the years pass by. 

The dress they fit you in has valyrian steel shoulder pads and a belt. It’s all black with red satin cuffs at your wrists. The style of it reminds you of the dress you wore the day you almost died, except this one has silver dragons embroidered on the skirt. Your hair is twisted into intricate and regal braids and a silver ruby necklace is draped across your neck with matching earrings. 

The coronation will be in the throne room, and after you will give a speech to the small folk in front of the Red Keep. Many were shocked by the news that Aegon was stepping down, none more surprised than your good mother. Her lips had been pursed while she picked at her fingernails until they bled. 

You later found that she felt all her hard work and sacrifice over the years had been for not. Despite rejecting Aegon’s pleas as a child and making him marry Helaena, here you stood happily married to her eldest son. Despite starting a war to put him on the throne, here you stood, about to be crowned queen of the seven kingdoms. 

You think against telling her that none of this would have happened if she had just let the two of you marry, it would only upset her further. Upon hearing about Vhagar she had been beside herself. Helaena had stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do, as she herself was not fully present yet. Her mind was still elsewhere most days. 

“Are you ready?” Aegon asks, he had requested to be the one to give you the crown and walk you to the throne. It felt right to have him be the one to hand it over to you, to tell the world he approves of this decision, that he sees you as the true ruler of the seven kingdoms. You take his hand, letting out a shaky sigh before nodding. 

“Yes.” 

You catch one last glimpse of yourself in the mirror before walking away. The sight shocks you, the woman staring back looks eerily similar to your mother. You wonder what she would make of the life you’ve lived since she passed. You still think of her often, thoughts consumed on if she’d be disappointed or not. 

The coronation is a blur. Aegon walks you to the iron throne after a guard announces your arrival. Everyone turns and watches you walk up the steps. You do not sit immediately, Aegon says his speech which you hardly hear, the ringing in your ears taking precedence over his words. In the crowd you see your children, up at the front and grinning from ear to ear. 

Jaehaera holds Aemma and Rhaenyra holds Rhaegar. Saera and Aelar are standing in front of them, fidgeting as their little bodies try their best to stay still. Your brothers stand behind your girls, shoulders back and faces proud. Neither remember what your mother looks like, you wonder if they see her in you as Alicent does. Part of you hopes they do. 

Aegon grabs the crown from the velvet cushion it was sat upon. He had a new one made for you, it’s the valyrian circlet he had made for your wedding, except he has added thorns to it, the way they are shaped almost looks like a dragons nest with rubies embedded to look like the eggs. They seem sharp enough to harm, maim even, as the thorns curl around one another. 

You wonder what went through his brain when coming up with the concept, he gently places it upon your braided hair and whispers, so only you hear, “for my mighty dragon.” 

Gods, you want to cry. 

“All hail the queen!” He shouts, turning to the crowd in front of him. They chant along with him as you finally ascend to the throne, your body fits perfectly against the seat as you stare out at the people, no, subjects in front of you. 

And while your new subjects stare up at you with unadulterated rage and shock, a shiver of happiness worms its way into your heart. This might not have been the way your mother wished for the war to truly end. She would still disapprove of your marriage to Aegon, but you know that at this moment as you sit on the iron throne, the crown of y/n the mighty laid upon your dark curls, that she would finally be proud of you. 

And in the end, that’s all you ever wanted.

[grace-writes-shit]

I Found You (Bucky Barnes X Rogers!Reader)

Words: 4.1k

Warnings/Themes: Angst! Character death, abduction, torture, human experimentation, allusions to PTSD, depression, thoughts of wanting to be unalived

Characters/Pairings: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter (Mentioned), Howling Commandos (Mentioned)

misspygmypie asked:

Hello 🥰 I saw your request post and figured I'd send something in. I've had this idea for years, and it would be fun to read it!

You know when Steve finds and rescues Bucky at Hydra in the first movie? What if it's reader who they're rescuing and Hydra did some experiments on. Maybe she's Steves sister and they wanted to get to him through her and obviously Bucky has a thing for her lol 🥰

A/N: Sincerest apologies for taking so long to get this up. I've been taking on extra duties at work since my partner got fired and things have been super crazy since it's end of quarter. it also hasn't been the best for my mental health, so writing had been a struggle. probably why this ended up being so dang angsty. Sorry. Adulting seriously sucks. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Rain pattered gently on the canvas walls of the medical tent, while boots splashed noisily in the mud it created. Outside of the tent, she could hear the daily drills going on, soldiers training, and officers shouting commands. Her own fellow nurses milled about the tent, tending to wounded soldiers or doing other daily chores. It was a quiet day for the 107th Infantry Regiment.

“Alright, Private Richards, try not to go sticking your hand into random holes again. I doubt the next rabbit will be so kind.” Nimble fingers began tidying up the bloodied cotton balls and gauze used to clean and wrap the boy’s hand. 18 years old, you would think he’d know better than to stick his hand in holes in the ground.

“Yes, First Lieutenant, ma’am…” The boy grabbed his jacket and sulked out of the med tent. She laughed to herself as she watched him go. Knowing him, he’d be back soon enough. Not unlike his Sergeant, who wandered in a few moments later, a lazy smirk on his lips.

James Buchanan Barnes. Or as she’s known for most of her life, Bucky. The charming Sergeant was her older brother’s best friend, having been around since she was small. They were all thick as thieves, hardly seen without one of the others.

It may or may not have been a blessing to constantly have Bucky around. He was kind, funny, and took good care of her and her brother. However, other boys and men didn’t seem too eager to get to know her with him hanging at her shoulder. It’s even worse now with Steve being triple the size he was a year ago.

Occasionally, a brave soul will strike up the nerve to enter the medical tent and ask her out to the nearest town for a drink and a dance. But Bucky had uncanny timing. He always popped up just as she was about to answer.

“Now, a pretty face like that shouldn’t look so angry.” A voice sounded in her ear. A startled gasp escaped her and her hands fumbled the tools she had been organizing. Bucky caught a pair of forceps before they could hit the floor.

“James! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She admonished him with a firm smack on the shoulder. He chuckled and rubbed the sore spot.

“Ow, careful there, doll. Gonna take my arm off with that strength.”

“Oh please, it’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of you.” She spun out of his reach when he tried to grab her arm. A small smile graced her lips as she made a final spin to face him. “Did you need something, Bucky?”

“What, I can’t come see my best girl just because I want to?

 “I know your troop is supposed to be running the course right now, so no you can’t just come see me because you want to,” she said while gesturing for him to sit on the cot in the corner or her station. “Now, what mess did you get yourself into to be sent here?”

“You know me so well, Darlin’,” he whispered wistfully, smiling up at her with those big blues. He wore a dopey smile as he presented his cut left hand. She pursed her lips and tried to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. Damn him.

Stepping closer, she took his calloused hand into her softer one and observed the cut. It wasn’t too deep but still needed to be cleaned and dressed.

“What happened?” She remained in between his legs as she prepped some alcohol and gauze. His right hand toyed with the fabric of her skirt. With a narrowed look, she smacked the back of it.

“Just a climbing exercise; a nail was sticking out of the wall and caught my hand.” His voice was hushed as she worked. She hummed and began cleaning the wound. He hissed and jerked his hand back. With eyes rolling, the nurse grabbed his hand more firmly.

“You big baby.”

“Your big baby.” She smacked his arm again.

<><>

Gunshots fired all around her, men shouting and screaming. Some in pain, some as a battle cry. But all she could think about was how gentle Bucky’s hands had been in hers. And how much she wished it was his hands on her right now.

But larger, rougher hands now tore at her. Pushing and pulling. She screamed from behind her gag and her hands strained against the restraints. Black boots kicked out at her captors as she fought like a feral cat. She twisted this way and that, anything to loosen their grip on her. But against four burly men, she didn’t stand a chance.

She guessed they had gotten tired of her struggling because a blunt weapon struck the back of her head and she fell limp to the ground.

It was cold. Colder than she had ever been. The air was damp, making the ache in her lungs worse. Blurry eyes peeled open. The room she sat in was dark, only a green-tinted light on the other side of the room illuminated the space. Its murky light cast deep shadows around the room that seemed to move. Her head lolled to the side as one shadow moved closer.

Ah, not shadows. Men. Hydra.

“Good evening, Miss Rogers.” His voice was heavily accented and polite. Nothing like what you’d imagine a torturer or murderer to sound like. “I am honored to have Captain America’s sister as my guest.”

She groaned. The gag was no longer wrapped around her mouth, but her tongue felt like lead. Thoughts struggled to focus and grasp what this man was saying.

“Such a shame, a First Lieutenant, Chief Nurse, so much promise in your future. But because of your brother, you’ll never get to meet that future. We have another one much better suited for you.”

His words floated through her mind but didn’t stick. She was a nurse… She helps people. Why was she here? There were soldiers at camp that needed her. Bucky needed her…

“..ucky…” She slurred, drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Her bones felt heavier than lead and her muscles were like the slop served at breakfast. The shadows at the edge of her vision danced ever closer.

“Don’t worry, my dear, you’ll forget the pain soon.”

<><> 

Bucky tore through the camp, Steve hot on his heels. His blue eyes roved over the multitude of bodies and injured, searching for that familiar head of hair. Always done up so prettily. Like last week when she was bandaging up his hand. Her nails were painted red, and her hair was twisted up into a flawless bun. Her red-painted lips smiled warmly at him. Fear gripped his heart at the idea that he would never see that smile again.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve clamped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, forcing the Sergeant to a stop. It wouldn’t do his sister any good if they lost their heads. As much as he wanted to tear the whole world apart until his sister was safe, he knew that reckless actions could get her killed. If she wasn’t dead already…

“She’s – she’s gone, Steve. Where is she!?” Bucky spun to face Steve, his eyes wide and slightly crazed. He can’t lose her. He never got to take her on a date. Never got to hold her close and confess how deeply and fervently he love her. Bucky bit down on his lip to stop its wobble. He can’t cry, not yet. Not while there’s still a possibility she’s out there.

“I know. I know, Buck. We’ll get her back. No matter what.”

Footsteps rushed up to the pair. A soldier stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath. “A-a letter for you, sir. It-it has the hydra insignia.”

Upon reading the contents, Steve and Bucky took off to Colonel Phillips' tent. The older man sat at a desk, signing letters to the families of the deceased and missing. Steve hardly gave the man time to put his pen down before requesting a team to rescue the captured. He decided to leave out the fact that he was only doing this to get his sister back.

“I understand the heroic need to save the day, but those who have been taken prisoner are far behind enemy lines and we don’t have the manpower or resources to conduct a rescue mission.” Phillips’ response was expected, but it didn’t stop Bucky’s jaw from clenching or his hands from balling into fists.

The Colonel looked at the two young men standing in front of him. He knew exactly why they wanted to go. Only a fool would think that Captain America wouldn’t move heaven and earth for the younger Rogers. An even bigger fool wouldn’t see the lovesick look every time James Barnes was near her, or the way his gaze follows her as she walks across the base.

Phillips sighed heavily, digging through a stack of letters yet to be signed. First Lieutenant Y/N Rogers. MIA.

Steve took the letter with shaking hands. Bucky felt a tear roll down his cheek.

They were dismissed and the two trudged away. A silent look was exchanged and they agreed. They would go after her with or without permission.

<><> 

“…name… Rogers…” Chapped lips mumbled her name over and over again. A tired mind determined to hold on to herself. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. “…Y/N… Rogers…”

“Y/N?” A voice hissed.

“Y/N/N?” A different voice, closer this time.

“Steve! She’s here!” The buckles around her wrists and ankles fell off one by one. Warm, calloused hands that she dreamed about cupped her face. She groaned and willed the fog from her brain. These hands. Bucky’s hands.

“Buck…” She croaked, red lipstick smudged, and once pristine hair hanging limply around her face. His smile brightened the shadows in her vision. Steve had joined them and helped her sit up.

“Hey, doll. What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” Giving her a watery smile, he pushed the hair from her face. The cheap line earned him a weak chuckle.

“Oh, what any girl does in a place like this,” she responded. Together, the two men helped her to her feet. The room pitched suddenly, her legs giving out under her. Whatever they had given her made her legs weak.

“Guess you make me a little weak in the knees,” she joked as Bucky swept her into his arms. She tucked her head into his neck, leaning heavily into him. Steve carefully led the way out, checking around corners and taking out any enemy soldiers that they crossed paths with.

Eventually, the trio made it out of the now-burning building. A mass of freed soldiers met them and together the company fought their way back to their camp. Bucky cradled her close to his chest the entire time. He stuck close to Steve, letting him take the punches. Steve didn’t mind.

For almost two weeks she was laid up in a cot in the medical tent. It was strange, in the years that she had been an army nurse, she had been the one giving care. She had never been the patient. And the patient of her subordinates, no less.

Her closer friends teased her that she was a horrible patient. Their teasing helped ease the residual anxiety and adrenaline from her ordeal. But what had really helped, was Bucky’s constant presence. During meal time and recreation time, he would come to visit her in the medical tent. Steve would drop by as well, but it was mostly Bucky.

As the days passed, Bucky seemed more and more nervous, however. Like he had something to say, just on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes, when he maybe thought she wasn’t looking, she caught him looking guilty. She hoped beyond hope that he didn’t blame himself for what had happened.

“You’re cleared to return to light duty, First Lieutenant,” Second Lieutenant Fredricks said with a smile.

The first few days of light duty were spent organizing and assisting. Then after a week, she was cleared to begin training again. Nurses didn’t necessarily need to do the drills the men did, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t. She also preferred to stay in shape and to keep her skills from going rusty.

Growing up with her brother being bullied, Y/N learned how to defend not only herself but Steve, as well. The elder Rogers sibling didn’t care for her fighting but he did appreciate that in a pinch, she could defend herself.

In the early morning, dressed in a pair of trousers and a simple shirt, Y/N makes her way to the track. A run should be light enough.

She could make out the tall frames of Steve and Bucky amongst the other men getting ready for their morning run. Bucky smiled as she approached.

“Hey, how’s it going? You sure you’re okay to be running?” Bucky brushed his hand over hers when she stopped in front of him. The touch made her stomach flutter but she smiled confidently at him.

“Actually, I’ve never felt better. I’m tired of being cooped up in the med tent for so long.” She bent to tighten her boots’ laces. Bucky shrugged and patted her shoulder, teasingly telling her to not fall behind. She scoffed and took off after the troops in a light jog.

Steve and Bucky kept pace with her, both worrying she might become too tired and collapse. Their hovering and not-so-subtle glances did not go unnoticed by her. Irritation settled quickly in her bones. She wasn’t some fragile flower. Just because something bad happened to her doesn’t mean she going to break at any moment.

Spurred by anger, her legs moved faster on their own accord. Steve glanced at his best friend as they sped up to match. Soon, the three of them were overtaking the other troops. Bucky was breathing heavily as they passed the frontman, now in a full sprint.

“W-wait!” He panted as the two Rogers siblings were now racing down the path. How was she running that fast!? How wasn’t she tired? Her smaller frame broke past Steve, who was now struggling to keep up.

The younger Rogers didn’t even notice the concerned and shocked looks she was receiving. The wind rushing in her ears and the trees blurring in her vision was all she could focus on. She felt like she was flying; her feet barely touching the ground. She felt free.

She burst into the clearing at the end of their running trail, the morning sun warming her wind-chilled skin. The grass kicked up as she skidded to a halt. A laugh erupted from her, her head light with adrenaline and awe. Then reality sunk in.

Bucky and Steve broke through the tree line a few minutes later.

“Y/N!”

She turned to look at them, her brows scrunched together and lips forming a thin line.

“They did this to me…” She murmured, gazing turning down at her clenched fists. She had thought she was feeling so good because she survived Hydra’s torment. How quickly this revelation brought her down. They poked and prodded, injected, and dissected. They had changed her.

“Doll?” Bucky approached her slowly, hands out in front of him. Seeing her lip wobble had his heart shattering in him. Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, drowning her sobs in the rough fabric of his shirt. Her brother stood beside them, rubbing his hand over her shoulders.

“I’ve got ya, sweets. I got ya,” Bucky muttered into her hair. “We’re gonna figure this out. It’ll be okay.”

Lord, he hoped he was telling the truth.

<><> 

Months went by as she adjusted to her new abilities. After she discovered her inhuman speed, she quickly learned she was inhumanly strong. Not as strong as her brother, but definitely stronger than any other man in the camp.

She began training with the men, easily laying anyone flat during sparring. Even Steve struggled against her. While he surpassed her in strength, she made it up in speed and agility. She had been given the moniker of Lady Liberty once the higher-ups found out.

But despite the usefulness of these abilities. She couldn’t help but feel violated. Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of their cold instruments and icy laughter. More than once she ended up in the clearing from months before.

Each time she made it out there, Bucky wasn’t far behind. He held her as he had back then, whispering comforting words and stroking her hair. This night began no differently than the others. They sat in the middle of the clearing, the half-moon illuminated above their heads.

“I’m sorry, Bucky… You don’t have to come out here with me every night.” She sniffled, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She was settled in between his stretched-out legs, her own draped over one of his thighs. He shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t mind, Doll. Really.” Soft lips pressed against her temple. “Unless you tell me to go, I won’t leave your side. I can’t.”

Shining eyes looked up into his baby blues. She had never felt so safe and protected as she did in Bucky’s arms. Even though she could easily kick his butt in a fight, she knew he would fight tooth and nail for her. And she would burn down the world for him.

There was no doubt in her mind as she pressed her lips to his. He sighed against her as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer by the waist. Everything clicked into place with this kiss. They had been dancing around this thing between them for years, neither willing to take the leap and possibly lose what they already had.

But the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her on his tongue had him bitterly regretting not doing this sooner. How many kisses could they have had? How many dates and late nights have they missed? He sure had a lot of time to make up.

“I love you, Y/N.” His breath fanned across the skin of her neck as his kiss-swollen lips brushed along it.

“I love you, James.”

<><> 

Over the next two years, the Howling Commandos slowly but surely made their way through the Hydra bases. First Lieutenant Rogers led alongside her brother, Captain Rogers. Not only as extra muscle, but as a nurse, and occasionally, spy. Bucky didn’t like the idea of his girl being ogled by slimy nazi men, but she convinced him that no one would expect a woman to be a super soldier.

She would infiltrate their meetings as a piece of eye candy, acquiring information as needed and then arresting the men as she saw fit.

But this particular mission didn’t require revealing dresses or sultry makeup. Rather, she wore a winter coat and combat boot with reinforced soles. The speed that she ran quickly ate through nearly all of her shoes.

The Commandos were all situated on a cliff overlooking another with a set of train tracks. They were waiting on the train carrying Doctor Zola. Glove-covered hands clenched at her side. Doctor Zola. One of the men who had turned her into this. Turned her into a weapon.

Bucky’s heavy hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her to his side. His soft lips brushed against her temple.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured. “We go in, kick some ass, and then get out. Easy.”

She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his waiting lips. The other men had the decency to look away from the couple.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s get a move on.” Steve’s voice called out from the edge of the cliff.

She scoffed at her brother and kissed her sergeant once more. “See you on the other side, tiger.”

<><> 

Things were going south very quickly. Hydra had more gun power than she had thought. A huge man with bigger guns than himself stood in the doorway to their car. His guns glowed blue as they powered up.

Steve shoved both his sister and Bucky behind him, holding up his shield. The blast had her teeth rattling in her skull, her body flying back further than the boys. The impact of her head hitting the metal floor caused stars to dance in her vision.

She could barely comprehend the cold rush of air from the massive hole in the side of the train. And before she could gather herself, the man was priming another shot, pointed directly at her. Shaking legs tried to bare her weight as she scrambled for her gun.

Bucky had gathered himself faster than her or her brother, so she could only watch as he picked up Steve’s shield and fired a few shots at the enemy. A scream ripped from her throat when blue light shot out at her sergeant.

Bucky went flying, the shield in the other direction. Both the Rogers siblings jumped into action. Steve went for the shield, quickly taking out the other man. She leaped for the hole in the wall of the train that Bucky had flown out of.

Her eyes widened with horror as she gazed upon the man she loved, hanging on for dear life to the crumbling handrails.

“Bucky! Hold on!” She reached out to him, trying to find her footing to get to him and pull him to safety. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen on him before. Blue eyes wide with fear, his mouth poised in a silent scream. And as his fingers brushed against hers, tips barely able to curl around each other, he was gone.

His scream was joined by hers. The image of him falling to his death will forever be ingrained in her mind. It’ll be the last thing on her mind as she goes to sleep and the first one when she wakes up. It’ll be there when she fights her way through Hydra soldiers, and as she sends her fist straight into Johann Schmidt’s ugly, red face.

Steve worried about his sister’s mental health since that day. She had retreated into herself. Long gone was the witty and strong woman he knew. His sister, who had always been so bright, had been replaced by someone who only knew how to fight.

She only spoke to give orders or to communicate during battle. Her words were always clipped and to the point; no room for banter or sarcasm. The icy wall she had built around herself was all to conceal the torment her mind tortured her with.

If only she had been stronger, maybe she wouldn’t have been down for so long. If she had been faster, she could have reached him before he fell. If she had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have died. Every moment was filled with these thoughts. Awake or not. It was all she could think about.

Eventually, she became too tired. She fought with everything she had; Bucky at least deserved that. She wouldn’t give up simply because it would mean he died in vain. However, with each new opponent, she could help but wish that this one would be stronger than her.

No opponent was ever stronger than her. Until now.

It wasn’t a person that she now faced her death with. But a plane filled with explosives. Schmidt was gone, as was the Tesseract. Now, she and her brother faced the cracked windows of the plane. She tried to keep her lip from trembling as Steve spoke with Peggy.

Even if she hadn’t gotten her happy ending, she had wished her big brother would have gotten his. Tear-filled eyes opened when she felt a hand come to rest on hers. Steve’s face was solemn as he spoke.

“I’ve gotta put it in the water.” He was half telling Peggy and half asking for permission from his sister. It wasn’t just his life going down for millions of others, but his little sister’s, too. The siblings shared a weighty look before she nodded.

Lady Liberty listened quietly as Captain America spoke with Agent Carter. No.

Y/N listened brokenheartedly as her big brother said his goodbyes to the woman he loved and who loved him in return.

And as Steve redirected the plane to the icy terrain below, she closed her eyes and imagined the warm hands of her love. His blue fire eyes and easy grin. The feel of his lips against hers. The sound of her name on his tongue.

I’m coming, Bucky.

[hulhudhonado]

The Souvenir Dilemma

Note: Honestly I have been so busy and I have so many posts on the back burner, but I had this one in my thoughts so much I had to put it out before the feeling went. Basically a continuation of "The Clone Thesis" so read that before reading this. This might be a bit shorter than that one though. Enjoy.

CW: Angst, clones, experiments, drugs, Mention of self poisoning and harm, death of character, mild cursing

HC: Reader is gender-neutral, does not have a vision. Clones go by it pronouns.

Characters: Dottore, Dottore Clones, Mentions of Balladeer, Nahida (Buer) and Traveller

It was like a slideshow for Dottore, watching your memories from when you were a baby to your first dissection. He scrolled through them like they were a PowerPoint presentation he needed to get through before an exam that was starting in less than an hour.

Acquiring your memories was quite an easy task for him. He had his little trip to Sumeru to get both of the gnosis and not only did he get them but he was also able to mess around with the old tech he used back in the day for the fun of it. However, the trip was exhausting. Not only did he have to sacrifice his clones but he also had to build a robot for a puppet. It was almost comedic when you think about it. Either way, he believed he should have gotten a souvenir from the trip.

That was where your memories had come in. While the Traveller and Buer were busy messing around with a husk controlling a mecha, he was easily able to meet the tree and extract what he needed. Buer wouldn't mind, would she? Of course, she wouldn't, she wouldn't even notice it was missing. Buer only knew about his clones anyway, she never mentioned getting rid of any other clones that he had created.

Now here he was, watching your memories. All he needed to do now was program it into the clone's system, and you would be back in his life as if nothing happened. It was that simple, however, he remained unmoved. He couldn't believe himself, he doesn't like wasting time but here he was, replaying your memories front to back. What was holding him back? He had some theories but he didn't like the sound of any of them.

First, it was what you currently were. Right now you were completely reborn, everything is a new experience to you and shockingly Dottore himself had become one of your experiences of first love it seems. It was his mistake of creating a clone of you so hastily without all of your components in order. So right now you were madly in love with him. It wouldn't have been an issue, he could have just reset you or made another you. The problem was that he enjoyed the current you too much to do either.

The way you were so hopelessly obsessed with him and how you would melt just by the touch of his hands. Just to make sure you continued this way he made sure to program the rest of his clones to detest you so you would only have your eyes on him.

This led to the second issue, you detested clones, even though you were technically the one who first suggested the cloning thesis. Again another fault on his part for not taking into account the consequences of his unplanned actions. He programmed the clones too well. When he got back the excitement in your voice, talking about the clones being gone almost made him cringe. Putting your memories in now would mean you would know what you had become and he wasn't sure how you would react to it, since the current you were already smashing lab equipment daily.

The last issue was the previous you. While scrolling through the memories he always seemed to stop at one point. It was the only part he would let play through without skipping. The usually sped-up memory turned back to a normal pace and he watched as you looked up from the ground to face an annoyed-looking version of himself when he was younger. It was the first day you had met him.

---

Dottore, otherwise known as Zandik, at the time, was sneaking behind the Akademiya's nose to mess around with the ruin hunters in the mountain. Specifically, the giant abandoned one at Devantaka. He assumed he was being secretive enough. That was until he saw your face down on the ground writhing in pain.

He planned to sneak past you and continue his journey. That was until you grabbed onto his leg, murmuring about a cure in your bag. Unable to shake you off, begrudgingly Dottore helped you reach your bag where you shot down two bottles of unknown substances.

"Zandik right? The guy who got suspended for messing with ruin hunters? " You slurred out, chugging another one of the bottles. You reeked of chemicals and for once Dottore was disgusted by the smell of something so strong. "Since you're alive I am going to go on my way." Dottore ignored you, brushed himself off, trying not to express his disgust before turning away from you.

"Uhh wait hold on!" You say, finally being steady enough to get up and follow behind him. "I want to hear about your discoveries!" You excitedly shout out. Dottore sighed heavily. "Why? So you can report it to the Akademiya? Piss off, weirdo." He grumbled, still refusing to face you.

You rush forward to block his path, sticking a hand out to him. "You can call me whatever, I do not care, but I do care about knowledge and research, especially the forbidden ones. " Dottore looked down at your extended hand, which you wiggled a bit. "It's called a handshake. You take my hand with yours and then you shake it." You say, a grin on your face. Dottore could only scoff, slapping your hand away from him.

"I do not have time for this. I got better things to do." Dottore tried to go past you. "Oh I know, I see what you do almost every day." He stopped in his tracks, finally looking you properly in the eyes with a scowl. "What?" He hissed. He hated your face, still smiling like an idiot. "That's right, I see you almost every day going the same path, entering the ruin hunter, messing around with its system to activate its canon. I see it all. I, however, do not know what you are doing to keep it up and running and that's what I want to ask about. " Within seconds Dottore had pushed you against a tree, a knife to your neck.

"Oof! Hey don't be so rough!" You groan. Dottore wondered if you were drunk because of all of those chemicals you had consumed, either way, he had better things to worry about. He wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty to upkeep his research, he wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of it. "Why are you following me? Are you one of those stupid spies they have to keep students in check?"

Imagine his surprise when you burst into giggles which slowly turned into full belly roaring laughter. The grip he had on you with the knife to your neck was not getting looser but you still kept laughing. He watched a slight cut graze on your neck because of it. 'Great, a crazy drunk knows about my project. Fucking great.' He groaned to himself.

"Don't worry don't worry! I ain't like that…" You settled your laughter, looking him in the eyes. He felt something click when you did, your eyes were not malicious or scared. You were excited, your eyes were shining in awe. Only someone insane would dare to look at him like that and it seemed the archons finally decided today was the day he would meet one. You continued speaking.

"…Actually, I'm also doing some illegal research." You grinned at him. His grip loosened on you due to curiosity, which let you drop down to go through the things in your backpack. You pulled out a notebook and more of the unusual bottles from it. "The area here is full of toxic mushrooms and fungi, almost all of them banned by the forest rangers to interact with and this rule was extended to the Akademiya. However I wasn't going to let them have all the fun for themselves, so I have been experimenting with it by myself and making cures for it."

You extended a bottle to Dottore, which he took. He swirled the bottle, watching the liquid glisten inside. Even without taking out the cork, he could smell the distinguishable chemical smell seeping out of it. No wonder you were on the floor when he first saw you, you were poisoning yourself. He looked back at you as you smiled at him. "If I continue this, I might make one that will make me immortal, which again is considered illegal under the Akademiya rules."

Dottore hummed in response, now intrigued. You stood up once more, brushing yourself off and once again extending a hand towards him. "Now, let's start over. Zandik, would you please tell me about the ruin hunters you have been activating?"

---

Dottore began to speed up the memories once more, he didn't plan on reliving his past. He already knew what was in store after that. How you guys almost blew up the Akademiya, how you guys sneaked into the forbidden records all the time and the first time you showed him your Cloning thesis. It was history for him which he refused to re-live.

However that was the issue, you in the memories even though you did insane things alongside him, slowly began to change. He left the Akademiya, you didn't. Your morals remained the same as before but you always refused to experiment on others, which lead to you being the one that dealt with all the experiments you wanted to do.

Dottore was certain that would be the cause of your death. Imagine his surprise when he found you had died in an accident during a storm in the desert. At that point, he was already in the Fatui and you both were slowly drifting apart, your motives too different from one another. He was certain your death would not effect him but something inside him just snapped when he found out, which lead to this entire mess.

If he put these same memories into you now, he didn't know what you would do or how you would react. You wouldn't be the doe-eyed person in love with him and for some reason, he couldn't handle that thought. So here he was once again, flipping through the memories one by one before stopping at the memory of how you both met, continuing the cycle almost like a mantra but in this situation, it was not calming him down or make him think rationally.

For once, he has stuck in making a decision and he would have continued to stay in that trance, that was until he heard footsteps nearby. He shut off the memories being displayed, reverting it into an orb, almost the size of a tablet, and putting it into his coat.

You stuck your head into the room, beaming when you see him inside. You make your way in, enveloping him in a hug which he responded with a pat on your head. "You alright? You don't look so good." You say, looking at his face. All Dottore could do was sigh. "It's just my face." He patted you once more as you continued to hug him with no plans of letting go.

He decided he was going to deal with this another day. Until then, he tried to enjoy the cold embraces you gave. He just wished for once it was as warm as the handshake you had given him in the past.

[goldenchocobo]

After some thought, and a lot of planning, I’ve finally decided to post my interpretation of what the Wayfinder Trio’s outfit would look like, if they needed to blend in to save the world order; starting with Ventus. I did try to fit all three on here, but it was very, very cluttered. 

Terra and Aqua will be posted soon, so don’t worry.

I didn’t draw Radiant Garden as it seems their style of dress; although unusual is still acceptable- as well as possibly the inhabitants already knowing of other worlds on account of Scrooge McDuck being there (and outright stating to Ventus that he’s from another world). Its the same reason I didn’t draw Disney Town either, as well- scrooge is originally from there, and the King certainly travels about, so most, if not all residents would know about other worlds

Terra

Aqua

Keep Reading for more info inspiration;

Dwarf woodlands: I based Ven’s design mostly on the Prince and the Hunter; with the obvious Black and White colour choice that Ven wears, with the red accent being a feather in his cap instead. The boots have kept Ven’s small ankle armour-piece, but are more so stylized on the Huntsman’s.

Castle of Dreams: I always wondered why he wasn’t a mouse in the first place, especially since Cinderella called him one- so I did the right thing and turned him into a mouse. His clothing mostly stays the same, but I changed his shoes to be more like Jacque's.

Enchanted Dominion: Again, I looked to the Prince of Sleeping Beauty for Ven’s design and gave him a really long cape with his Mark as a clasp and tan tunic. Its not the clearest here, but the white section of the cape is longer than the black. His boots are in a similar situation to Dwarf woodland’s, only based on the Prince’s.

Neverland: I made him part of the Lost Boys and have him a rabbit costume! If you’ve followed me for these past few years, you may know why I chose a rabbit; but if you don’t, look to my now almost three year old His Dark Materials AU Post on the Way finder Trio. I kept his X-shaped bands to help break up the monotony of his white shirt and kept his armour-piece as well.

Deep Space: I wasn’t sure what to do first, and thought about ‘alien-fy’ing the trio, but decided against it, as the ‘world’ is already travelling through deep space, so instead, I kept Ven’s Keyblade armour, but stripped it of its ‘armour-y’ parts leaving just a space-suit-esq look.

Olympus: Ven’s wearing a black and white toga with his mark as a clasp, like young Hercules. I kept his shoulder armour-piece but got rid of the rest that went down the length of his arm to better stream line it. He’s also wearing capped sandals. 

[amenders93]

Welcome to Chicken Island

Sorry for the long wait for another one of my Chicken Run posts, but at least late is better than never. Now that Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget has been streaming on Netflix for the last few weeks, I hope my next few posts of this franchise doesn't include too many spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen this wonderful sequel yet.

Anyway let's start at the beginning, when we hear our charming rooster voicing to us the memories of the first film in the form of what seems like a bedtime story. At first you might think he's talking to the audience watching the memories as the story is told. In his exact words, it goes like this:

"There was this farmer, see? And she absolutely hated chickens. Kept them locked up like prisoners. I guess you could say she had a real "axe" to grind. Got herself a machine that turned chickens into pies. But what she didn't plan on was going toe to toe with a certain freedom-fighting chick. She was fierce, fearless, and wanted one thing and one thing only - freedom. She pulled us all together and gave us the wings to fly right out of that hen-hole. She got every chicken out of there. And got rid of that wicked farmer to boot."

But later, after we see the newspaper article about the Tweedy farm explosion, we learn just who Rocky is really telling the story to. And among other things, we also learn a few other things about Rocky and Ginger after their past experiences. Those discoveries make themselves known as soon as Ginger asks the rooster if bedtime stories might be a bit premature at the moment. Rocky retaliates by saying that no one's never too young to learn where they came from. They both happily look at who, or what, Rocky was telling the story to - a precious egg laying in a cozy nest.

Yes, it's true. Rocky and Ginger are not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. Now our beautiful feathered couple are happily married as husband and wife AND they're expecting a baby 🐓💍🐔. At this point, there's no telling when the egg will hatch but we do know it's going to happen any day now and soon, Rocky and Ginger will also be parents 🥚.

Ginger then heads outside their house with Rocky following right behind her. She tells her husband that their days in the past are over and they've got their happy ending. In fact, they're living in it. Our happily married couple then gaze out into the horizon looking at the tranquil village that all the free chickens have built over the last few years since their daring and risky escape from Tweedy's Farm. Much like a king and queen surveying their kingdom since Ginger is the leading hen and with Rocky as her forever mate now, he is the leading rooster as well.

As we look around the village, we see that all the chickens have built their own comfortable homes, much better compared to the huts they used to live in. Life on the island is good as it can be, especially for a few other chicken friends of ours. Bunty grows all the fruits and vegetables they could eat, much better than the chicken feed they used to eat. Mac's inventions made their lives much easier. Fowler is pretty much enjoying his retirement from being the leading rooster but still likes to talk about his days in the RAF. Babs continues to knit as she always does. As for the other hens, they pretty much do their own thing enjoying their freedom, not having a single worry in the world. Hard to believe that this opening scene in the village took about six months to make.

In fact, their new life is so perfect that Ginger believes that now is time to put the past behind them. Confused, Rocky questions his wife about this and she refers to the one wall in their house covered in pictures and newspaper clippings - most about the legendary explosion at Tweedy's Farm and one about Rocky's escape from the circus along with his old poster. Our couple head back inside looking at that very wall. Rocky indignantly reminds Ginger that these memories are their glory days and it's how they are. Our lovely hen scoffs at this, stating that it's who they were. Holding onto her husband's arm, she reminds him that they went through that dreadful past so their baby doesn't have to.

Rocky thinks about this for a moment. Our handsome rooster then admits to his wife that she's right. He then goes over to the wall and rips off his old circus poster; he would clear the rest of it later. At this point, both husband and wife agree that from now on, their only mission is to keep their baby safe. Our two married chickens gaze lovingly at their precious egg still laying in its nest, wondering when it's going to hatch. Though they won't have to wait much longer 😉.

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR]Modern AU - Teaching Pains Pt11

Part 10

Prompt 7: Valentine’s Day

There's something surreal about Iruka’s first day back.

For starters, memories hound him. Only yesterday, it seems, or a lifetime ago--except, no, it’s right now --he was-- is? --roaming these halls in search of Naruto. The walls were bereft of glittery puns and eye-searing posters, then, and he doesn’t remember any lone heart-shaped balloon buoying along the curved top of the atrium.

Pink, white and red hearts also hang from the ceilings of the corridor, leftovers from the Valentine’s week that he missed. From experience, he knows that the decorations will keep til somewhere around early March, at which point the first teacher to jolt into awareness of the passing time will rock-paper-scissor a team of colleagues into putting them away.

For once, he’s grateful to see them linger. It helps shrug off the prickle of unease.

Still, a mounting sense of disquiet follows his climb up the stairs to his classroom. His hand falters on the doorknob. In the corridor, the joyful shouts of dozens of children stomping about fade into a haze of dread. He watches himself shove the classroom door open, stagger out against Mizuki. At the foot of the opposite wall, the dark shape of a knife long since picked taunts him.

Before Suzume across from him can offer any awkward words of support, he pushes it all down and steps inside the classroom.

Anyway, besides that, the greatest hurdle to his return to normalcy is his students’ behavior.

It’s impeccable.

“You get five minutes to ask questions, and then we’re picking up where we left off,” he warns with a sigh, hoping to clear the air.

In spite of the tense ripple that passes through his audience, nobody speaks. Even Naruto stays quiet, dropping his gaze to his fiddling fingers. They must've been briefed while Iruka was away, and pretty severely at that.

Eventually, a trembling hand lifts, from a most unexpected source.

“Yes, Hinata?”

“I--Hm. Is Iruka-sensei okay?”

All eyes, even those thus far averted, focus on Iruka with terrifying intensity.

He forces out a laugh. “I’m fine,” he says, but they seem entirely unconvinced. If anything, the half-truth is leaving too much room for their wild imagination.

Luckily, Iruka was already well-practiced in the art of defusion as a teen, and has grown into an adult unafraid to weaponize it.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean it. Having an achy knee at my age is embarrassing, and also my ribs hurt,” he admits sheepishly. Then he cocks a thumb at his own chest and grins. “But that’s nothing! Have I told you I used to be part of the karate team back in the days?”

A collective groan echoes in the room because yes, he has.

“Just give me a few weeks and I bet I could compete again. Picture this: your teacher, a tournament champion! You’ll get to say you knew me well before the fame.” He pinches his chin thoughtfully. “Now that’s an honor.”

A few pained eyerolls follow--the usual response to a lame teacher’s bragging--and then they're back on track. Iruka finally gets to turn to the board and write the day's lesson plan. And if he avoids reaching for the highest part, well, nobody comments.

In truth, he could not be more thankful for Hiruzen’s visit on the weekend he got home. The old Headmaster took a seat at Iruka's dull little dining table, sucked on his unlit pipe, and waited while Iruka clumsily made some tea before his indulgent eyes. Then he said, “I look forward to seeing you back in one week’s time,” and Iruka had no other choice but to take the time off.

The days that followed might have been an excruciating kind of tedious but they were, it turns out, necessary.

And he did get a few visits. Anko was quick to declare his get-well shrine too cumbersome to keep around. She got rid of it through the means of a home delivery. For his part, Naruto made no less than three post-school detours by his place, much to Daikoku and Iruka's exasperation. The last such instance had Kakashi awkwardly trailing behind, looking sheepish and uncomfortable and like he wasn't sure he was welcome, which was ridiculous in light of everything but also made Iruka question if he had hallucinated whatever had passed between them when Kakashi helped him home. And then stayed.

Is it fair to hold someone to the way they acted right after a life-threatening event?

Anyway on Friday evening Kotetsu and Izumo dropped by with their own haul and Iruka spent his last weekend of forced rest eating overdue Valentine chocolate from the teachers’ room and trying not to fret about Monday.

He shouldn’t have worried. In spite of the constant mild pain and the glint-- it’s-a-blade-it’s-a-blade --of a far-off passing car, the day goes fine. He’s just a bit disappointed that it isn't one of Kakashi's appointed days at KMH, but eh , the man has other priorities.

“So, how was it?” Anko asks, plonking the coffee maker back into place.

It's the end of the day. Why she sees fit to finish the thing at such a late hour is anybody's guess.

Iruka shrugs. It almost doesn't hurt.

“Honestly? I expected much worse. Kids were eerily well behaved.”

“Yeah, we had an Assembly while you were away. Hiruzen-sensei was intense.” She pauses with a considering look, which is how Iruka realizes he has begun frowning. “He didn't name names, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But you know?” he asks, feeling the familiar swell of protectiveness within him.

She pulls a face and dismisses it with a wave of indifference. “Yeah, yeah, we know. Honestly Iruka, that kid of yours... You really love the dumb ones.”

And that rankles, a bit.

“Nobody saw it coming,” Iruka says, and feels the echo of Kakashi's voice in his mind soothing some of the guilt from the words.

Something about Anko’s mug must be particularly fascinating, because she drops her gaze to it and sloshes it around.

“Yeah, we didn't,” she murmurs, before offering him a fiercely rueful grin. “As I said: the dumb ones.”

Walking across the main hall proves even more unnerving now that it’s empty. The memory of climbing down those stairs on a busted knee and with freshly cracked ribs burns bright in Iruka's mind. In the muted light, the paper hearts on the walls struggle to dispel it. He half expects to see Ibiki standing on the lawn when he exits.

Instead, he finds Kakashi, reading against a lamppost.

To his credit, he tucks the obnoxious little book away once Iruka reaches talking distance. 

“Please, tell me you didn't bike here,” Kakashi says with no other form of greeting.

“I--uh, no? I took the bus,” Iruka finds it in himself to stutter, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. He's kept it on the light side but it still weighs uncomfortably.

Kakashi's gaze lands on it, lingers, and then moves up to meet his eyes. “Care for a ride home?”

“Oh you don't h--” Iruka begins to demur. He stops. Reassesses. Rolls his eyes at himself and smiles back. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

Kakashi dips his head like he’s pleased with the words and hands him something. Iruka takes it, because that’s the polite thing to do. While he's busy turning it over, his bag gets tugged from his side and he ducks out of the strap to accommodate it, trying to figure out whatever it is Kakashi gave him.

It's chocolate. Fair trade and organic, the labels say, which Iruka supposes is nice, but an otherwise pretty plain tablet of 60% cocoa chocolate. And it definitely doesn’t explain why Iruka’s distinctly lighter all of a sudden.

Wait.

By the time he looks up to argue, Kakashi has already shouldered the bag. He's looking so easily unconcerned about it that Iruka struggles to find any grip to hang his grievance on. He settles for an uncomprehending glance at the chocolate.

“Thanks?” he says, feeling like the worst sort of tool, but also like at this point he might as well be spiraling on an ice rink and if he trips Kakashi on the way down well, the guy kind of asked for it. Iruka didn't get this wrong-footed all on his lonesome.

Kakashi shrugs and turns away, keeping him in sight with a nonchalant side-eye.

“You weren't here last week,” he says, as if that’s in any way news to Iruka, as if it explains anyt--

Kakashi’s ears are flushed.

Iruka hears a disbelieving chuckle bubble out of him. “Oh, come on. Really?”

The ears turn even redder, shielded on each side by Kakashi’s shoulders. He strides ahead in a way that’s disturbingly similar to a hasty retreat.

“The car’s over there,” he announces.

Chocolate bar safely tucked away, Iruka falls into step with him and bumps their shoulders together. It jostles his sides and sparks a light twinge, but It’s a small price to pay for Kakashi's renewed attention, however wary it may be.

Not that Iruka has any idea what to follow that with, so he simply says, ”I'm glad,” because at least that’s true. It’s a nice gesture.

The mortification recedes from Kakashi’s flush. He scratches the pink skin beneath the eyepatch with self-aware embarrassment and slows his gait. The crinkles at the corner of his visible eye betray a soft little smile.

Iruka wonders if he’s allowed to let their hands brush together. He doesn’t act on the thought.

Kakashi remains a pleased sort of quiet until they stop by a deep green Alto Works that's seen better days. “It's Gai's,” he says at Iruka's inquisitive look.

Like Iruka, he usually bikes to work.

There’s an implication, there, that sparks like hope. Iruka’s chest is light and full at once in a way it has no right to be with this amount of crushed ribs. His throat tightens, but that doesn’t stop his mouth from opening.

“Would you like to go out? With me? On a date?” he blurts out, feeling miserable and uncool and brave all at once.

Kakashi squirms like he's not doing much better, and gives a small nod that's all the more awkward for his attempt to make it suave. “Sure.”

They’re absolutely terrible at this.

Iruka can't help but grin. It wrinkles the scar across his nose, it’s so wide.

“How about the coffee shop?”

It's way past the time for caffeine but that shop stays open late and, anyway, it's not about the drink.

It's never been about the drinks.

Kakashi blinks. “You mean… now?”

“Oh. You don't want to?” Iruka asks, and okay, maybe he's teasing a bit. Just a bit.

The dry look Kakashi gives him speaks to his awareness that he's being played. It only makes the nearly rushed way he unlocks the car and then ushers Iruka inside even more flattering.

Iruka's much too old to be considering making out in a car, he reminds himself in the stifling air inside, charged with the unnamed thrill of expectation. He also isn't sure--Kakashi can be at once upfront and evasive, and that's when he’s not busy being plain withdrawn. Iruka doesn't know what liberties he can take. Out of all those he wants.

When Kakashi pulls up in a parking space and secures the handbrake, the coffee shop across the street is closed.

As is the custom. Every single start of the week.

Iruka throws his head back with a groan. “Oh shit, it’s Monday.”

“Oh, is it?” comes the replies, dry as the desert.

A thought strikes Iruka then, of just how fast he'd have bristled, months ago, at the wry raise of Kakashi's visible eyebrow.

Now, he just snorts and rolls his eyes, complicit in the teasing. “Pft, don’t give me that, I got confused. You’re not usually around on Mondays.”

Kakashi hums acknowledgment and grants the point with a tip of his head.

They both stare out at the closed coffee shop. There's a mild sense of betrayal about the situation, like they’re both actors of a planned scene whose director threw away the script.

“You didn't call,” Kakashi says.

Sheepish, Iruka scratches the bridge of his nose. It’s true, he didn’t. He barely sent Kakashi a couple of texts. In the cold light of solitude, he found himself struggling to sort through the events. Emotions had been running high. He got betrayed by a friend. He was in pain. He didn’t know how much of what he read into Kakashi’s care wasn’t just pure projection.

“I was too miserable to talk, to be honest,” is the partial truth he’s willing to admit to. “But I was glad to see you when you dropped off Naruto,” he offers as a tentative peace offering.

That gets Kakashi to perk up.

“You were?”

“Yes? I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

Uncharacteristically bashful, Kakashi glances away with a murmur of: “I didn't want to impose.”

Iruka looks at him like he's grown two heads. “After everything you've done…”

Gone is the shyness. Kakashi’s eye sharpens at the words. “You shouldn't feel indebted,” he says somewhat cuttingly.

They share a look. Even hidden behind his perpetually creased coat, Iruka can tell Kakashi's body's drawn tight as a bow. He’s leaning back and slightly away, like he’s gearing up, maybe for a fight, definitely for a blow.

As far as Iruka’s concerned, he doesn’t intend to go for either.

“That’s not what this is,” he tells Kakashi.

“Then what is this?”

“What was the chocolate for?”

“You know what. But you shouldn't consider it out of obligation.”

The long-suffering groan those words draw out of Iruka surprises them both. In all fairness, Iruka would have been hard-pressed to suppress it even with an advanced warning.

He slaps a hand over his eyes.

“You’re so… Fuck, but Anko is right.”

“What?” Kakashi asks, sounding like he thinks he should be offended and doesn't understand why he isn't.

Iruka drops his hand to level him with the full weight of his glare. Kakashi greets it by leaning in with his single eye wide-open. Expectant.

“You're a pain in the neck, Kakashi. I'm pretty sure you're responsible for half the gray hairs I've gained this school year.”

“Only half?” Kakashi mutters sotto voce like he can't help himself.

Iruka wants to strangle him. Iruka wants--

“I really want to kiss you.”

In his rush to deliver, Kakashi snaps off the left strap of his mask.

His lips are warm against Iruka’s, slightly moist from being covered all day. His jawline tilts up, vulnerably exposed. Iruka can’t resist the urge to cup it, thumb settling right beneath his hidden eye and stroking the early rise of his cheekbone. The skin is smooth there, even more so on the downwards slash of his old scar, buffered by time. In contrast, his chin tingles a bit, light pricks of uneven stubble rubbing against Iruka. With his pale hair and skin, Kakashi probably doesn’t bother shaving nearly as close as Iruka has to, especially with how often he keeps his face concealed.

Iruka chuckles at the thought, little puffs of air between them that Kakashi answers with an inquisitive hum, and that Iruka swallows back by closing in again.

Turns out, he’s not too old to make out in a car after all.

When Kakashi’s little moans finish lighting his every nerve on fire, though, Iruka’s forced to concede to the urgent need for a recess.

He pulls off with a gasp. A flash of concern creases Kakashi's brows, then clears in the light of understanding. Before moving away, he catches Iruka’s mouth in one last searing kiss, and it takes every single drop of willpower in Iruka not to pull him in again.

Instead, he steals a few pecks while they part, until they finally drop each against their own backrest, out of breath.

Iruka bursts out laughing.

“I can’t believe our first kiss was in a cramped car.”

Not without humor, Kakashi considers the driving stick between them, and bobs his head in a so-so motion. “It’s good dissuasion.”

“Yeah,” Iruka says, watching Kakashi's hand creep closer to the loose bangs escaped from his ponytail. He allows a few gentle attempts to brush them out of his face before remembering himself. “Gods, please don’t do this or we’ll start all over again, and I don't think my ribs can take it.”

Kakashi drops his hand with an amused snort. He also takes the time to check the way Iruka's carrying himself but he doesn't seem overly alarmed by what he sees, even as he asks if Iruka's okay.

“I'm fine,” Iruka says breezily. “It just aches, twisting around like this. Worth it, though,” he adds with a grin.

The pleased flush that takes over Kakashi's cheeks is making it very difficult not to lean in again.

“Yeah?” Kakashi asks cautiously.

Iruka holds his breath against the pain just long enough for a lightning taste of Kakashi's lips.

“Yeah.”

Kakashi stares at him adoringly. Iruka feels undeserving.

He rubs the back of his neck. “It'd probably be easier on a couch,” he says, looking from under his lashes. “You're taking me home anyway, and I owe you coffee.”

“No thanks, you need a better coffee maker,” Kakashi mutters, but he also starts the car.

In the end, Iruka makes them both some dated herbal tea he finds in the back of a cabinet, just so they have an excuse to linger.

The worst of the urgency has died down, though. Kakashi does actually take a sip of his drink after sitting down--and also wrinkles his nose at the quality, because he's a snob.

“I really like you,” he says after setting the mug on one of the discarded envelopes Iruka converts into makeshift coasters.

“I gathered, yeah,” Iruka replies brazenly, trying to hide the spike of his nerves. He didn't expect Kakashi to be this blunt.

He worries what else Kakashi could be so blunt about.

“I mean it,” Kakashi carries on, with only a brief falter to his apparent confidence. “I don't--I don't usually bother dating, I'm not even interested, most of the time. So I wanted you to know, I don't take this lightly.”

A single-eyed stare should not be this intense. Iruka struggles with a sense of unreality, staring at Kakashi’s unmasked face, at the expression of near solemnity that carried his confession.

As the seconds of breathless silence drag on, Kakashi begins pushing up, impassive. His voice is offensively businesslike when he speaks. “I don't want to pressure you. How about I go so you can think about it?”

“How about you give me a minute to process, first?!” Iruka snaps back.

Kakashi lowers himself back slowly.

Resisting the gravitational pull of his couch, Iruka braces on his knees and digs his thumbs into the space between his eyebrows. He wishes they could just ignore this step in the dance and go back to fooling around like spontaneous teenagers, but he's also thankful for Kakashi's pragmatism. It's nothing he hasn't thought about himself, after all.

He sinks back.

“I don't take this lightly either,” he tells the wall space above his hand-me-down television. Then, because Kakashi deserves more than cowardice, he meets his eye. “You're my coworker. I don't date coworkers.” A self-conscious chuckle escapes him. “I mean, I haven’t dated at all in a while either, because who has the time to even go looking--But I like you. You're… extremely maddening in all senses of the term.”

“Thanks?”

Iruka terribly wants to card a hand through his gray hair.

He ducks his head and gives a bashful squeeze to the back of his own neck instead. “It's not bad. I don't have to worry if you'll keep up with me. If anything, you make me feel like I can keep up with you , which is really flattering.”

There's a stiffening at his side but Kakashi doesn't interrupt.

“I mean… I have my temper,” Iruka adds, in distantly amused self-awareness. “You have your pride. But you still let me apologize when I'm in the wrong. And then you let us move on, which… I can’t tell you… Not having to halve myself to fit… It’s--I really appreciate it.”

Kakashi kisses him.

Just surges against him and kisses him.

It's the strangest sensation, like a sudden crashing wave going in slow motion right before the point of impact. Kakashi pushes him down into the cushions with a strength that feels unrelenting and a gentleness that takes out any sense of demand. The errant pillow that could've caused any discomfort is pushed to the floor. Iruka’s legs are given room to climb on the couch. Kakashi straddles his hips, bowing over with his hands digging in the couch to keep his weight off. And kisses him, urgent and slightly shaky.

Intending to soothe him, Iruka reaches up to rub his back. When his hand meets the lower end of his untucked shirt, though, he doesn't course correct. The skin is scorching hot under his touch.

Kakashi lets out a punched out moan.

“God damnit,” he whispers against the corner of Iruka's mouth, trying to collect himself, “you’re not being fair .”

Iruka can't resist kissing his chin. He's not doing much better himself. Truthfully, he did not expect to still have it in him, this sudden outpouring of desire. He considers twisting his hips to flip them over, and reaches the devastating conclusion that he'll have to wait a bit longer before he can fully enjoy having Kakashi pinned down.

What a thought, though.

He moves aside a bit, giving his left arm room to spread so it's not so uncomfortably trapped against his side. Kakashi accommodates him easily.

His expression is so terribly fond that Iruka feels his insides squirm in a guilty sort of distress. That's… a lot of emotions, there. Aimed at him, of all people. He's usually the one doing the emoting.

“I just wish you'd be a bit more careful about silly things like safety regulations,” Iruka jokes, trying for levity.

Kakashi gives him a long, searching look then kisses him again, the asshole.

“I like that you care,” he says very seriously when he's done, because he's contrarian like that. His expression doesn't waver even when his cheeks go gently pink as he considers his next words. “And I think it'd feel really good if Iruka-sensei were to care this strongly about me too.”

Iruka stares up, throat tight, so tight it's a wonder he's even able to speak next.

“I don't think that'll be a problem,” he chokes out.

Kakashi leans in and rewards the honesty with another kiss.

Part the last

[bajibitch]

Request: Their biggest fan wants to replace you. Yandere!

Kazutora, Manjiro, Kokonoi, Baji, and Rindou

Kazutora

When his superfan showed signs of becoming a problem, he blocked them on all platforms and didn’t allow people to message him unless he followed them. The fan still had their ways of contacting him and since he was fed up, he made a post calling them annoying and let other fans pile on. He knew they would be sad but he didn’t expect them to take drastic measures, so he was surprised to see you tied to a chair when he came home.

The fan stood behind you with a knife. He knew asking them to let you go would make matters worse, so instead asked why they were visiting. They went on about how he didn’t need you. They understood him. You were just there for his money but they were gonna love him. When they asked if he was willing to give them a chance he said it was great.

He went on to say how it would solve the problem that's been bugging him. He's been looking for a way all this time but the solution just came to him. While the fan is saying they knew he'd understand, he shot them. Sure, he could’ve found a way to get them out but then they’d just make a new plan.

Manjiro

He didn’t mind the comments people made saying he’s theirs because it was expected, but he hated the direct messages asking for a chance. Making a video talking about his relationship with you and how much he loved it seemed like a good idea, until it wasn’t.

Manjiro thought if they respected him then it would extend your way but the nasty, bitter comments proved him wrong. He’s never been the one to care about what people say, but there’s something about them attacking you that gets him feeling aggy.

He didn’t make any post about it or block the comments because he needed them to think he didn’t care. That way when he goes to the user in real life, the one who runs a popular fan blog that trashes you, then they wouldn’t expect it to be him.

The press assumes there was an altercation between fans, but the question of how their head was off their shoulders still remains. There was no murder weapon on the scene but surely the killer used a blade, no human could it with their bare hands.

Kokonoi

He never paid any attention to his fans because he didn't want to deal with their nonsense, but when he saw your name trending he couldn't ignore them any longer. The tag was flooded with pictures of you and the usual talks about how you don't deserve him. It struck a nerve seeing that they would tag your name, just to be sure that you knew they hated you.

Kokonoi didn't make a public comment, it wouldn't help you. They would ignore it and keep making their little hate groups. He wanted to have a direct effect on them, so he used his resources to get their information. It seems like too much but he didn't have to do the work himself so it was nothing to get their addresses, jobs, and business if they had any.

Even though he got famous he never cut ties with his old gang so he sent people to the fans. Of course, when you're controlling so many people some of them go rogue and take things further. Families were being killed and lives were ruined but that was fair. They could've pushed you to the edge with their constant harassment, leaving him with no one.

Baji

The fan stayed well after the meet and greet, hoping to get a moment alone with Baji. He was well aware of who they were. He got all their gifts and letters of appreciation and at first, he loved it, but then it became something sickening. The letters became more about you as time passed, asking if he was sure about his relationship, adding in the flaws they believed you had, and going into ways they could be better for him. When they started sending nightmarish fantasies of getting rid of you and running off with him, he called them out online and told them he didn't want anything from them.

Baji thought they’d get the message but seeing their smile grow as he came into view told him otherwise. His upper lip was pulled up as he looked down at them. They couldn't be serious, thinking they were the better option as if they could sign up for the competition, but they were. When they started to pour out their heart to him, he pushed them aside to get to his car, but they followed behind going on with their confession.

It was insane. Were they pretending to be oblivious or could they not sense his repulsion? When they reached for him again he couldn't stop himself from beating them. He couldn't tell that they were becoming unresponsive, he just didn't wanna hear any more of their delusions. So he kept beating them until he felt they got the message.

Rindou

He didn’t just play at clubs, he made beats for other celebrities and helped them with their album. One of them was a fan of his and would often hint at wanting an intimate relationship. Time and time again he would turn them down but one day he just ignored the question. Everyone knew he was with you so he wasn't gonna waste his breath reminding them.

The celebrity didn't understand why Rindou wouldn't be with someone equally famous and wealthy, but rather than saying it they would put it in their music as if he wasn't also working on it. He didn’t let them put out the diss tracks and made sure they knew they were blackballed, but he didn’t stop there.

Since he used to have a great relationship with them, they felt comfortable sharing everything, good or bad. Sometimes they gossiped about other people, and other times he witnessed their embarrassing moments. It wasn't everyone has their moments kind of embarrassment. It was you knew that was disgusting and you're embarrassed because I saw. Either way, he made sure to have another artist mention it on their album.

It goes platinum so the celebrity in question isn’t able to escape the endless questions about their unusual activities or the mockery from their peers. Their career plummeted since no one wanted to be associated with them, just like Rindou swore. They were nothing but a good laugh or eyesore depending on who was looking.

[mores0]

Okay, I have a lot to say about Yang 3 in 2D, and it’s mostly just ramblings, but stick with me because there’s so much to unpack from this episode, and I feel like the fandom’s really overlooked it honestly. And I also need to get this out of my brain, haha.

So, I’m going to start with the photo because I feel like I’ve been losing my mind over it since I first watched the episode. Because Shawn does not remember taking that photo at all, no recognition, nothing- to the point that he even thought that it might’ve been photoshopped. So- for whatever reason his brain just refuses to remember that part of his life. Then there’s the actual story behind the photo- and there’s so much to unpack there. So, according to Shawn’s mom, Shawn was late to dinner, so she went out to look for him when she found him and ended up meeting Yang, and she took the photo because Yang told her that Shawn was the “luckiest, most handsome boy that she’s ever seen” and she looked sad. Which, what the fuck honestly, lmao?? Who takes a photo of their like, 13 year old son with some random grown woman who he’s with for whatever reason, after she tells you that he’s handsome and she’s sad. ??? I’m on Henry with this one, and that’s really saying something. And I always thought it was crazy how everyone just sort of moved on from that. (Sort of like Shawn getting shot).

And- okay, this might seem meaningless at first, but stick with me. In the episode, Allison and kid/flashback Shawn were wearing similar outfits- grayish jacket, blue shirt, jeans, converse looking shoe- but the thing is, the episode made a point to emphasize Shawn’s shirt with Henry talking about how he remembers all of Shawn’s shirts except for that one, and even in looking at all the other photos, he didn’t see it pop up again. Parallels I guess, I don’t know, that just stuck out to me.

Anyways, what I’m trying to get to is that I think that something happened to make Shawn’s brain repress meeting Yang, (and maybe afterwards he got rid of, or stopped wearing the shirt to help block out whatever happened, idk).

And, I’m ending this post here because it’s already super long and I’m just thinking way too much into it . (Also, when Yin said that Yang was obsessed with Shawn and “took notice of the pre-pubescent you (Shawn) and developed an unhealthy crush” which is a real line by the way, that was a huge ‘what the fuck’ moment for me, I don’t know why they felt the need to say that).

[apomaro-mellow]

alright, i'm going to go ahead and made a rant post about this car situation just so i can get it out and put it to bed. I don't mind if yall wanna comment or whatever but after this I'm just done.

So we need to go back almost a year. My car at the time seemed to be on its last legs. There was a repair it needed that was going to cost like $1200 and I had already paid close to that amount just a few months prior for another repair. I didn't want to pay that again but was willing to save up until it was suggested that I start looking for another car.

I will give my dad props for this one and only thing. He held my hand during this process bc it was my first time. Every other car I had, had been gifted by my grandparents. This was my first time shopping for one. Now it gets interesting bc instead of just getting rid of my old car, my grandparents were going to foot the $1200 bill anyway so that my brother could get it.

I felt iffy about that situation but figured it was for the best since I'd be getting a vehicle with no problems. The problem came about when he decided to drive it around and rack up tickets while MY name was still on the title (this cause my insurance premium to shoot thru the roof but thankfully i got it fixed). I literally had to escort my brother to the DMV to sort out all the paperwork and even THEN he took forever to actually change the plates so I was STILL getting tickets on my record and I had to be the one to go and take what were still my license plates off the car.

This could have potentially been an asshole move, bc I had no idea where his new plates were, but that's not my responsibility. Lucky for him, the new plates were where? In the car, bc he never did anything with them after our DMV appointment. This all occurred in summer/fall 2023.

Then in December, he starts having problems with that car. It even stops on him a couple of times. There is talks of him getting another one. Just like me, all of his (many) previous cars were gifts from our grandparents. I should have probably said earlier but these are all USED cars. We're not getting brand new ones, but still, good condition that we've never had to pay a cent for.

It's also worth mentioning that in the like....six months my brother has had my old car he got hundreds of dollars worth of tickets. Not a single one he paid on his own. Either I took care of it bc they were in my name and he's literally gone to court for not paying, or my dad has paid. But I feel like I'm digressing.

About last week, he curses out my mom because she asks him to *checks notes* receive his infant child when his baby mama drops her off. Apparently that was disagreeable and he cursed her out on the phone, then later to her face when she got home. The part that stuck out in his rant to me was that no one in our family had ever done anything for him. I think just from what I've stated above, it's pretty obvious to see that's false.

So whyyyyyyy

Why why why

After that breakdown, my dad and grandparents thought "Let's just give him another car"?

It is exhausting to see the same thing happen again and again. But this time kind of burned me bad because he got the exact same car that I have. The one I had to shop for. The one I had to visit sellers for. The one I am currently on the hook for a $10,000 loan with like 15% interest. My mother told me this was the case but I didn't actually see the car until this morning.

Here's where I give my dad the benefit of the doubt a single time: It's a common car, dealers have a ton of them, it's probably still an attractive price range. And that's the end of it.

But what I see, is that I can do everything I was told to do: do well in school, get a degree, get a job, start building my career. And it gets me virtually the same as if I did none of those things and on top of it disrespected my parents to their faces.

Like really, why am I working so hard? If doing what I do gets me the same as a foul mouthed, lazy ass, ungrateful son who's shackin up with the most frustrating baby mama in the world then what the hell is this all for anyway?

[wavesmp3]

some of my fave rbs or asks or comments ive received... thank you all :) - no need for anyone to respond or anything to this, just really wanted to put this together more for myself - i doubt most of your remember these but i do heh [more under the cut, and perhaps lil notes too depending on the comment]

the first three!! major huge moments for me. from sha (@dinoshaur) one of the first comments i received on a work that wasn't fanfic exactly. meant the world to me then, and still does now. | from @redevenir the very very first comment (i believe) i ever ever received on the sea is yours to take,, it's been nearly 4 years since i first posted that piece and people still somehow find it, and it all started with that rb | and from choco ! @chocosvt one of the very first comments/rbs i got when i started properly writing on tumblr in 2020, this got the ball rolling on what became (and still is) such a dear passion/hobby of mine (also also can you believe i still use the mlist banner that choco oh so kindly made for me ages ago LOL its beautiful, i'll never get rid of it as long as this blog exists

and moment of silence for my old url :0

the first one... when another line of mine is quoted in another piece of mine's comments... head in hands forever. 2/3 of these were left by @gracefulweather (one for sure is, and i think the uquiz comment was also left by them but not sure) but thank you either way sherri!! | the second sc tbh i don't remember who left it but it was on tsiytt and it made me feel like i achieved something in crafting that world. although i may never revisit that world in writing, i revisit it often in my mind.

flower anon your comments meant so much to me, i hope youre still out there somewhere doing well :) | and to the other anon that left the second one, i was speechless and honored to reach that ask

@hhjs amal's comments have always made me feel like im doing something otherworldly which isn't true at all but i will forever love rereading their tags. also just amal's mind in general, i wanna pick your brain forever

n! i already made an emo missing n post but here are some comments from them lol. and the last one!!! me and water <3333 when people starting associating me with water/ocean/sea/waves too <333333

@heavenlyhaechan zahra!!! there were so many ones i could have put here but this one seemed to sum it all up. you get me :p if you see this, i hope you've been well :))

@dapingu the first and third one are just ones that make me giggle still LOL and then the second one is one that i hold so so close to me cause i had absolutely no idea if anyone would read that piece but then you did ! and you left this comment even after the fact too! i was so touched. i feel like i should personally apologize for making no moves to continue the series (and probably also for deactivating the gifts and sins blog) BUT thank you nonetheless. and as a added bonus you never failed to make me laugh so thank you also for that

@thepixelelf ursa!!!! the first one is horribly cut off but is prob one of my fave notes you ever left on a fic of mine (battling also with that one sunwoo recovery files style inspired drabble) and then ofc i couldn't not mention the 'boo you whore' comment :D also so glad to have you on this site still and to have your friendship and to look at bees and bears and think of you :) you mean the world to me

@kabira manx i think the fact that there are so many screenshots here speaks for itself like... i just simply could not bring myself to pick one !!! i am so lucky to have found you on here. i think in a way you helped me find out what i was good at and what i liked about my own writing before i even figured it out myself <3

@sagescaffeinemania the first one made me laugh and the second one makes me emo. feels like a declaration of love in way but i don't mean that in a weird way LOL i think your support on oasis singlehandedly introduced so many others to that piece, how can i ever thank you for that? and i apologize if i haven't even attempted a thank you yet

@cuppasunu KYU your bulleted comments on my silly long fics always meant so much to me ,, i know its been a very very long time but i hope you've been well

@blossom-hwa lina! best for last some might say. i mean you must know how much that oasis rb meant to me right? because it means the world. i think you calmed every doubt i had about that piece and lifted even higher everything i loved about it too. and the first sc esp, i couldn't have said it all better myself. that scene felt like i risk when i was writing it and im so glad it played out the way i was hoping it to and not the dreadful other way lol | and as for the second screenshot. really i think i love that comment because of how you wrote it more than what you said about the piece if that makes sense. one can tell from that little paragraph alone what a writer(!) you are. i love rereading that comment but i think i mainly just love reading your writing lol (dont think im not making my way through worn out soles)

[thomazzr]

///LightSwitch!Zane

(inspired by a load of other AU's I've seen but main one is by spinchips ao3 fic with zane having two diff personalities)

Zane and my boy Zayne! I mostly named ice emperor that because calling him IE just seems either too long or too short but onward to lore.

Lore

Timeline: Post-never realm when the ninjas came back to ninjago.

After zane got fixed up from 6 decades worth of damage and leftover ice that was stuck on his body, PIXAL asked if she could scan him, it was reasonable for him to be scanned and zane agreed since of course. Anything could've been on his mind, and maybe get rid of any rust here and there. But upon checking she found some old persona in him. Soon as she saw it she went to check the switch on zane.

(the same switch zane used after nya becoming the sea)

And the switch was absolutely demolished, as it was close to where Zayne mainly added ice on, meaning that along with his other internal machines and the switch are very broken, PIXAL attempted to fix everything along with Jay and nya but the switch, was unfortunately unable to be fixed as it looked like to be the one part of zane that Zayne kept playing around with out of curiosity and the discovery of flipping it made him far less emotional. To the point it was to no use anymore due to decades of on and off and so forth. Giving zane a constant serious and Unserious and different persona's at all time.

The switch was vitle, and without it could make zane unfixable. So to take it off was just a lose lose situation. And therefore dear ice emperor Zayne became a second persona of zane. Though less hostile after seeing they aren't any harm to him and are in fact his friends, tho still very bitter lloyd technically defeated him by mere words and also Kai for his fire ability which opposed his.

Due to this, every ninja in the temple got used to zaynes sudden appearance even when they were talking to zane, both weren't so far from each other since zane and Zayne are passive, adaptable, hard to beat emotionally, and way too intelligent for robots. Though unlike before, Zayne still has the same voice since voicebox isn't connected to the switch and why his voice was so deep before when he was an emperor was because his voicebox was rusting. They would know if they switched, zayne = a little ruder than zane and zane = less quieter than zayne.

Personality

Zayne: he's far wiser than any of the ninjas, second to master wu due to him existing for 6 decades, and so technically he's older than zane.

His way of speech is different and due to speaking the language of the never realm so much, he has an accent. I don't even know if the never realm/ninjago is supposed to be Chinese or Japanese but I like to think Zayne would Have a slight old Japanese accent similar to master wu.

Knowing the ninjas are his friends, he's not as hostile but still is, talks unnecessarily rude to them when he feels like it, and his pride grows 10 times a day since he always shows up when it's sparring time, beating one by one since his knowledge at fighting is further than any of them, usually being alot more fierce when sparring with Kai, though being slightly careful with lloyd as lloyd always seems to back off if Zayne asked for a spar. So he'll be more gentle at beating lloyd compared to everyone.

When zane and the others have a conversation, sometimes the person they're talking to don't realize it's no longer zane they're talking with but none other than Zayne. Zayne and zane share a mind and are just as intelligent or more so in zaynes perspective but either way it's sometimes hard to distinguish them if Zayne isnt showing the normal differences with zane and as long as he controls his accent abit.

Zane: he isn't much different to Canon other than being more timid but due to also experiencing being the ice emperor too, he unconsciously talks alot more, and his morals are a little more cuckoo than before.

Whenever it is his turn to switch. He's alot more indecisive as he had vex for so many years and when he switches, hes always be greeted by zayne. his feelings for Zayne is complicated, he resents Zayne and he really doesn't like him but he can't blame Zayne much at all, because Zayne is him. They were still the same person before the switch broke, and if it wasn't, its his fault.

Hes usually in the kitchen, with PIXAL or with master wu. It's now uncommon for him to be with the other ninjas, and most of the time he is with them, he's very timid, he loves making plans with them but the fact he hurted them back in the never realm always came to haunt him, and sparring with them was even worse especially with lloyd, so he usually gave the job to Zayne with the condition he doesn't injure them too badly.

Though he's less social, he talks like a king, which is funny for the other ninjas, mostly because he uses alot of high honorifics on himself, sometimes accidentally calling himself emperor, by this point he doesn't even know how to stop it.

(also before closing, his appearance is different, and as much as it just looks like a mix between zane and zaynes style, it's just Zayne feeling uncomfortable wearing the things zane wears regularly and asked if zane could at least give harder protection even if he does know he and zane aren't human and aren't physically weak since they have tough bodies, by the end of the day zane was forced to ask master wu for some)

I'm sure soon enough I'll be making more of these two and how they interact. Feel free to give me questions.

(also if you're someone who's seen my Dual emperor AU, I'm sure I'll talk about it later on)

Too-da-loo!!