#hurts and crimes could only be committed by family

[the-real-sasuke-uchiha]

It's been, like, a decade since the story has completely ended (... I don't acknowledge that spin off with the kids or the weird novels), but I still don't understand what people mean when they say Sasuke has a lot to apologize/repent for. What exactly does he have to apologize for? The only thing he ever did wrong was attack Karin to get to Danzo, and he already apologized to her for that. His desire for vengeance was completely selfless and motivated by love and respect for his clan. He didn't attack innocents. He didn't involve anyone else in his problems. Yet, so many fans love how Shikamaru got revenge on Hidan when, to me, it just emphasizes how selfless and justified Sasuke is in contrast. Shikamaru wants to avenge Asuma who died fairly in battle on a mission because he wasn't strong enough. He even tells Tsunade he would leave the village regardless of if she allowed it or not. He involved Ino and Chouji, rushed in without knowledge of Kakuzu, and almost got them killed immediately. And Asuma is just a teacher! not even a fmily or clan member! They all would've died if it weren't for Kakashi being there to help them. Whereas Sasuke takes on his burden alone.

And for all that the fandom likes to critique Kishimoto on his writing choices, he's not a horrible writer. This sequence is purposeful. Shikamaru was the one who led the Sasuke retrieval mission. And shortly after Hidan's death, Sasuke kills Itachi. It was a well-structured sequence showing the validity of Sasuke's motivations compared to Shikamaru's whose motives weren't as justified in comparison, despite the validity of his feelings.

So, it's not that no one in the story can understand Sasuke--they can! All the characters just want to project things onto Sasuke. Naruto wants Sasuke to be a surrogate/prerequisite for the village to validate his sense of self and carry the burden of Naruto's loneliness. Sakura wants him to return her empty "love." Kakashi wants to right his wrongs vicariously through Sasuke and making him return Sakura's affection like he wished he could have for Rin, be a present friend for Naruto like he wishes he could have for Obito, not seek revenge because Kakashi is a mediator meant to to maintain the status quo in the village (a guard dog/"Hound" lol). Itachi wants Sasuke to be a blank slate anyone can impress whatever upon: he wants Sasuke to value the village over their clan and family (which itself is incomprehensible with the feudal structure the setting is based on). The village, and Naruto once he becomes Hokage, wants Sasuke to be a tool to use for the village's benefit. Maybe the only thing Sasuke has to apologize for is being a the protagonist of a revenge-based seinen but forced to be the deuteragonist in a battle shounen 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Dear anon, thank you for this gem. I don't know what else to add, because this is so perfect on its own.

For the record, I dislike Shikamaru, but I think he was right to want to avenge his sensei and go after Hidan. What is totally enraging is that he gets sympathy and assistance for doing all the things that Sasuke is trashed for. He is hateful and vengeful, and nobody tells him to just let go and not get consumed by revenge. He risks his friend's lives and gets zero reproaches, while Sasuke gets emotionally blackmailed by Naruto for all the kids that risked his life trying to forcefully bring him back, even when Sasuke had zero control over that. Kakashi goes far and beyond to help him, when he had tied Sasuke to a tree to lecture him about revenge. There is just so much hypocrisy that it hurts.

I am tired of reading all the ridiculously absurd "wrongs" that Sasuke supposedly did. This is a freaking show about murderer ninjas, but nobody seems to have a body count except for Sasuke. Which gets inflated to ridiculous levels, because Sasuke is apparently to blame not only for the crimes he committed, but also for the ones he imagined. He has no right to be angry and upset, he has no right to fight for his justice, because, in a world where the end justify the means and shinobi are meant to behave as tools that sacrifice everything for a mission, Sasuke is the only ninja that is demanded to find his way without even scratching a fly.

Sasuke has nothing to apologise for. He is the one being owned serious apologies and reparations. From everyone. From Sakura, for sexually harassing and trying to murder him. From Kakashi, for being the shittiest and most biased sensei, for being a hypocrite hokage that never attempted to make justice and for never prosecuting the surviving instigators of the Uchiha massacre. And from Naruto, for glorifying Hiruzen and for the same reasons as hokage Kakashi, because he too swept everything under the rug and never even tried to make justice.

Sasuke did nothing wrong. He grew just too magnificent for an antagonist, and they had to murder his character and his soul to make main character shine in his dumbness.

[aceofthegreenajah]

Thinking about Mountains of Mourning got me rereading it again for the millionth time. Every time I think, 'surely by now it has no hold of me? I know every turn it takes, can damn near recite parts of it.' And here I am, sobbing.

The story itself is beautiful, the language is gorgeous, but there is also something in the setting that speaks to me personally.

Our family farm is in a community smaller than silvy vale, and has been in the family for at least a couple of centuries. It's in the least populated and most backwater part of the country. And my country itself is small and insignificant, sparsely populated, mostly wilderness. In the eyes of some we may be backwater forest folk, tough as our land and just as stuck in our ways.

And I am a very tied-to-the-earth person. I am at home barefoot in the forest, fishing in the lakes, foraging in the swamps, working with animals, chopping wood. These forests are my forests, this land is my land. I was born on it and if I have to be buried, I want to be buried in it. I've never wanted to leave for better pastures. I've wished I could hold my home and my people up.

So though I cry for the beauty of the language and the message, and the grief of the plot, I also cry for the happy ending that Silvy Vale receives.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay so like stick with me but young Derek, alive hale fam au.

So like the Hale family finds out that Derek has a crush on Sheriff Stilinski’s delinquent son, and has mixed reactions. Talia is torn between amusement, worry and wanting to dislike stiles. Papa hale is very protective but thinks it funny that him and his son have the same tastes.

Peter is ecstatic, Stiles once beat him in chess when running from the cops. (stiles was running and sat down in the park around people for cover, turns out he interrupted a chess tournament. Peter challenged him to a game if stiles lost, Peter would turn him over to the police. If he won, stiles could use him as an alibi)

The rest of his siblings don’t really have an opinion other than using Derek’s crush to make fun of him EXPECT for Laura. Laura is in a one sided rivalry with stiles.

As the sheriff right hand deputy she was tasked with keeping an eye out for stiles and she constantly loses him. Which shouldn’t be possible because she’s a werewolf. She can never connect him to a crime he’s committed and can never prove anything. Can’t go to a judge a say “oh he left a scent trail which I followed because I’m a werewolf.”

Derek brings him home to dinner after they start dating. Unfortunately, the day that Derek brings him over, is also the day that Laura had to run around town taking reports of his crimes. She is fuming. Stiles looks her dead in her twitching eye and asked her how her day went.

The only crime she can connect him to is when he commit aggravated assault against a few of Derek’s teammates went to far with hazing. (Derek refused to fight back as not to hurt them) she lets him off.

[twilightkitkat]

I know people normally brand Wade as The Funny One, but can we talk about how they'd be as a comedic duo? While flirting? While fighting?

People oftentimes tend to stereotype Logan as The Straight Man, the guy who keeps a serious face no matter what. And while sometimes that can be true, if you look at his characterization in the movies and comics, that isn't always the case. I think that because his humor is more subtle and down-to-earth than Wade's they tend to overlook it entirely.

Wade's humor is more obnoxious and in-your-face. He uses a cheerful, dramatic tone to cue you in that he's trying to be funny. He makes pop culture references and rambles on and makes constant, non-stop commentary. He's meant to be entertaining and funny because it's his brand to be insane and nonchalant even in the face of danger.

Logan, on the other hand, has this very blunt, sarcastic humor. The type that requires you to think a second to get it. He'd make little quips and jabs, but either with a straight face or barely there grin, so it's harder to tell he's joking. His tone of voice is more deep and gruff, which we don't typically associate with being humorous, but he does tease enemies and joke and throw their lines back in his face and goad them.

These two together would drive everyone up the wall.

Everyone (the X-men, the enemies, Wade's friends) assumed that their interactions would be Wade making crude, obnoxious jokes and Logan telling him to shut up or acting annoyed but... that doesn't happen? Instead, Logan quietly laughs at Wade's antics or, even more shockingly, joins in.

Logan gets Wade's humor—relishes in it, even. He would find Wade funny when he makes stupid jokes at all the wrong times because he does it too but nobody pays attention because it flies over their head or he's too intimidating for them to really register his words.

(The only reason Logan was more serious in the movie was that he was a grieving, broken man who thought he was responsible for the deaths of his family. He felt completely alone. And yet, even then, he played along to some extent with Wade's jokes and acted baffled rather than genuinely annoyed unless it was a super inappropriate moment. And you could tell he found Wade funny and liked him talking by the end of the movie.)

These two would be sitting across the table and Wade would make some stupid joke and Logan would add onto it, straight-faced.

Wade would gasp and clutch his chest dramatically at someone taking the Ketchup from him before he was done and whine, "How could you!? The betrayal! I thought I could trust you, this is a crime of the highest degree! I should have you canceled on Twitter for the atrocities you just committed."

And Logan would shake his head, stoicly, and reply, "It isn't cool to steal, man. It feels good in the moment but you hurt other people."

And everyone would sit there like what the fuck? Did Logan just... play along with Wade?

(Logan was biting his cheek to not grin at their confused faces and Wade was practically cackling to himself.)

It'd be even funnier when they're fighting villains together.

"Watch out, babygirl! Daddy's going to save you!" Deadpool would scream, as he lunges in to stab the enemy as they have Logan pinned to the ground.

"Well, 'Daddy' needs to do a better fucking job at it," Logan would grunt as he threw the guy off himself.

Logan would be snarky, because that's his personality and sense of humor, but he'd play along. He'd commit to the bit so hard that the enemies would stop attacking for a second just to look at each other like, "Are you seeing this???"

"Wolvie, what did I tell you about your greasy tits? If you wanted to be a prostitute you could at least tell me so we could start an Onlyfans and monetize it," Wade would say after Logan's shirt got shredded in a fight.

"I'm not giving you a fucking cent of my Onlyfans money," Logan would grunt as he continues fighting.

"That's unfair! I'd be the best photographer out there, you need to pay me my fair share! This is a worker's rights violation!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the pornstar. I'm the one doing all the heavy lifting, you aren't entitled to shit."

And everyone would be like???? Did The Wolverine have an Onlyfans? Since when? And where could they find it—

It'd be funny to see them tear down the self-esteem of a villain together as they fought them.

"You look like Simon Cowell got dipped in a vat of acid and then grew out a mullet and got it cut by a 5-year-old on America's Got Talent just because their mom died of cancer," Wade would laugh and point at their appearance.

"That's being generous. At least Simon Cowell was attractive. More like a fucking muppet," Logan would add on.

And then they'd fight over whose interpretation was correct while the villain just stood there and took out a mirror to look at themselves because?? They didn't think it was that bad?? (It was.)

It'd actually give them the edge in fights because they'd baffle the villains so much. They'd either make them pissed off at not being taken seriously and therefore more sloppy, or just make them insanely self-conscious. Win-win.

Eventually, word on the street got around that Wolverine and Deadpool were a brutal duo. Verbally. There'd be villains telling stories about how they were disrespected and maybe an emotional support club "Fought Deadpool and Wolverine and survived on the outside but died on the inside."

They'd be a peak comedy duo that would become notorious for their chemistry (both in their fighting style and commentary).

[samcvrpenters]

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: dark! commander! caitlyn kiramman x enforcer! fem! reader

summary: caitlyn’s anger morphs into an overwhelming possessiveness of one of the enforcers, who ends up being you, and she has already formed invisible chains around you to keep you all to herself

warnings: possessive! caitlyn, dark! caitlyn, stalking, murder, torture, she uses her position as commander against you a LOT, kidnapping

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

what is caitlyn’s place in the cruel world if it’s not to fit in and reciprocate those key values of hurting people in order to get what she wants? in the long run, yes, it may be to help the distinguished upper city of piltover, but at the moment? it is only to reflect her superiority to the civilians and make the people of the undercity afraid of her.

she never would have had to resort to such methods if it wasn’t for jinx and her callous actions against caitlyn’s mother.

to say caitlyn wanted revenge would be the understatement of the century. she would want nothing more than to publicly torture the criminal and make her pay for the crimes she has committed and the damage against her family and health because she would deserve it.

caitlyn can already imagine it; the smug grin would be wiped off jinx’s face and perhaps she would have tears streaming down her face as she’d see her own guts pooling from her stomach. caitlyn would use knives. she’d use a blowtorch. maybe she would make her drink the strongest disinfectant that she could even dream of.

she’d make it her mission to use all of the piltover scientists in her acts— her acts against humanity— and she would find some extravagant ways to make jinx regret her crimes and beg for mercy.

she’d wear her commander’s cape with pride, yet she would know that her brain has already become twisted with the same darkness that plagued the worst of villains and she would slowly be turning into one of them. she’d be replacing herself.

she’s been so caught up in everything that she hasn’t even granted herself the merciful capability to have a break. have a rest.

she’s been training the armies. troops and troops of enforcers who are meant to be insanely proud to wear the emblem on their uniform but are instead only wearing it from their fear of being ripped apart in the same way caitlyn describes it in her mind.

within the thousands of people who wear the uniform, there’s you. you’re not high in the ranks of the enforcers, but you’re not low either.

she doesn’t know what it was about you. was it that she could train you to be even better when you’re already somewhere in the middle of the ranks? no. that doesn’t make sense— because then she would feel the same as she would do with the hundreds of enforcers who are of the same rank.

but she’s latched onto you like a mosquito to blood, a flea to a dog, a moth to a flame.

she wouldn’t necessarily call herself some lapdog who is running around and doing all of your chores and business. just because she’s attached to you (in her mind, no doubt), doesn’t mean that she’s going to be kind and do things for you.

what’s the point in that?

she’d be ruining her spectacular reputation and performance as the hardened commander who changed her ways because of the unfortunate death of a family member.

maybe she wants something to grasp onto; maybe that ended up being you because of your overwhelming sense of innocence. you’re not that innocent. you’re not pure. but in her eyes, you’re an angel. you’re the opposite to her. you could create such an outstanding dichotomy with her and it could drive both of you to want each other.

but it’s not want for her. it’s a need. ever since she laid eyes on you, her footsteps followed your footsteps. her breaths followed your breaths. her heart followed your heart because where you went, she went.

not like you know about it.

what’s the word for it? stalking? it’s a crime. a widely recognised crime in the city of piltover yet caitlyn has made an exception for herself because she’s the commander and she has the exception to every crime in the book.

her eyes remain on you at all times.

why are you in a bar? why are you drinking? are you so sorrowful that you’re unable to think of a better way to solve whatever problems is lying in that brain of yours? but the way you drink is so enticing and tantalising that all she wants to do is grab your face and kiss you. bite you. mark you.

a flick of the wrist and there goes the shot. a lift of your hand and there’s a glass of wine. and the tilt of your head and there is goes— down into your throat and into your body. a move of the hand and the glass is back on the counter.

she wants to take a picture of this moment. your lips are glistening with hints of the wine that had moved from the glass and the way you lick your lips. it’s like you’re trying to seduce her. it’s like you want her to come and corrupt you and your mind. she could teach you the most barbaric of things. but does she really want to ruin you?

the first time she talks to you is a strange event.

you’re sat doing work. your pen scratches against paper and her eyes are locked onto the path of the pen. your handwriting is incredible. maybe she should get you an office job. you’d be safer there, and she would be able to look at all the work you’ve done and stare at it intently.

you don’t even notice her at first, until she clears her throat and you wildly excuse yourself. you know what she’s like and you don’t want to be hurt. “oh— commander, i apologise— i didn’t notice you—“

are your apologies totally relevant? perhaps. she thinks it’s good to know that you do apologise for these things, because it means you’re not as tough as you think you are and she’ll be able to have a tighter hold on you when it comes to it.

but she’s meant to be cruel, so she ignores your apologetic comments and words and slams a pile of paperwork down onto your desk. “get this done by noon, officer. or i will be punishing you for incompetent behaviour.”

and she turns around and walks away.

she felt proud of herself then. she finally spoke to you. after following you and watching you in the bar. after following you home and watching you relax. after following you home and watching you in the shower, with water running down your soft skin and dripping off your body when you wrap the towel around yourself.

she keeps her eye on you when you fill out the paperwork. your writing is slightly different, because you’re filling it in more frantically and she can tell your hand aches because you occasionally take a break to shake your hand, as if shaking off the growing ache present in your muscles.

when you finally finish it off and dump it down onto her desk, you seem almost out of breath. she doesn’t mind. she’ll make you faster and better. she’ll improve your stamina.

“all pieces done.” you breathe out, your hands resting on the papers as you set it down on her desk. it’s in quite a neat pile— it’s not very messy, and most of the corners meet one another.

but she only glares up at you, making your muscles tense and your heart beat faster and faster against your rib cage. why is she glaring at you? she’ll do anything to be cruel. to make sure she can reinforce that you’re below her and that she controls you. because she does. she owns you.

“since when did i announce that officers are able to speak to their commander without being spoken to?” she would really find anything to criticise you, wouldn’t she? well, it wasn’t really a criticism. it was more just something she could scold you for. berate you for. but she sees you gulp nervously, and she lets out a sigh as she grabs the pile and pulls it closer to her. “i’ll let you off with a warning. next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

is she taking pity on you? yes. but you don’t know why, and honestly, she doesn’t know why either. is this because of her obsessive nature with you?

she wants to keep you with her at all times. is that so much to ask? maybe she can make you pay for what you did. she won’t be too harsh, though, she’ll just be able to keep an eye on you easier.

“stay with me for the rest of the day, officer.” does she not know your name? is that why she is addressing you as that? or does she just get off on the fact that she’s superior to you? “you will not be leaving my side for the rest of the day. do you understand me?”

“yes, commander.” it’s as if you want to listen to her. you want to stay by her side. maybe you don’t want more punishment or anything bad to happen to you because you’re just listening to her.

it’s her way of keeping you close to her. because she doesn’t want anyone else to be taking up any of your attention, does she?

she keeps you close to her for the rest of the day. she keeps her promise. she just loads more and more office work onto you with every hour that passes and she enjoys the expression on your face— the way your teeth tug at your lip as you concentrate and the way your hair sticks to your forehead slightly as you sweat.

she’s doing this to you. she’s making you look so beautiful and ethereal as she gives you more work. as she practically overworks you.

she lets you go around midnight. she doesn’t offer any sympathy for letting you leave so late in the night, and she tells you to come earlier in the morning. she really won’t let you catch a break now that she’s got those piercing blue eyes on you.

you’re back early in the morning, with your best friend, it seems. caitlyn doesn’t approach you yet, but she’s watching as you chat away to this figure that she doesn’t even recognise to be part of the enforcers. she doesn’t remember approving the identification of your supposed best friend.

and she makes a point of it.

she’s thought about cold blooded murder before, but she has never actually gone through with it. she’s thought about torture, especially with jinx, but she’s never done it to someone who doesn’t deserve it. yet, she can’t help herself because she believes that you belong to her and your best friend is holding you back and away from her.

she had approached your friend with the promise of arrest for treason. she knew it was wrong, because they never actually committed treason, but caitlyn was too far gone to even care about morals.

throwing them into stillwater, caitlyn had made sure that they paid for their actions, because soon enough, they were screaming and begging for mercy against caitlyn’s hands.

at first it was just slaps. then it was punches. then it was stab wounds. burn marks. it was constant pain after pain and eventually, they gave up and just let their limbs hang limp and blood run dry.

she’s not insane. she’s just keeping you to herself.

“clean this up.” caitlyn spoke with a harsh tone in her voice, and soon enough, the body was gone (courtesy of the prison guards), and her actions were hidden from society.

and then she goes back to watching you. she’s got her gun in hand and she doesn’t know what she’s actually doing at this point, because she won’t shoot you, but she can’t let you roam the streets if you’re going to have friends.

and you’re walking down the cobbled pavement— without a care in the world— as if you’re invincible.

but you’re not, and she needs to show you that.

her hands clench tightly around her rifle and she finally pulls herself from the shadows, blue eyes no longer disguised by the darkness of the buildings and she has revealed herself to you.

she’s stepped right out in front of you and you don’t know why she has.

“oh— uh, commander kiramman— can i help you in any way?” you’re so calm about it, like she hasn’t just jumped out in front of you. is this how you would react if it is was someone else? what if there was a criminal in front of you? would you just stand there and ask if you can help them?

anger overtakes her and the butt of her rifle finds itself at the side of your head, knocking you clean out onto the floor. she didn’t catch you, because it’s not like she’s a hopeless romantic.

there’s blood pouring from your skull but she knows you're alive because she can your chest moving. her hands grip onto your shoulders as she pulls you up against her, your head resting on her chest as she holds it there.

there’s blood on her fingers. but she doesn’t care. because she has you now. you’ll forever be in her grasp, and you’ll be happy. you’ll be safe. you’ll be hers. as you should be.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5

...

Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.

"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."

A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.

"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”

"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.

"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."

Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."

You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.

Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."

"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”

"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."

You say nothing.

Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”

"It doesn't matter if he does or not."

"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."

Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.

At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”

"Orders are orders."

Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”

You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.

Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”

"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"

You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.

Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.

"What happened to what, darlin'?"

You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."

"You were ambushed."

You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.

"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."

"It was a black bag op."

"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."

"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."

"Captain Graves can handle it."

Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.

He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.

"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."

You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."

"Neither do you.”

"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."

You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?

No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."

His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."

"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"

"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."

He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.

He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.

He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."

You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.

Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?

Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.

Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.

"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.

You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."

Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.

You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.

He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.

Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.

"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5] / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP×DC prompt. Pre-Dead on main. Soulmate Au.

Do clones have soulmates? And evil (depressed) future versions of yourself? Only phamily is allowed to know.

~~~~

Jason wasn’t particularly thrilled to have a soulmate. Of course, it was a rare phenomenon many wanted. But the presence of the tattoo did not guarantee a meeting with the fate promised man. The tattoo was more a clue than a commitment, according to Jason. Meeting a street rat like him would be a good way to form a brotherhood, but that doesn’t mean he could trust a stranger completely just because fate says so.

After he became Robin, owning a soulmate became undesirable. Jason once again made sure that it was best that they never meet. It would be safer for his human. Or rather, so Jason thought, until his inscription suddenly darkened and disappeared. Died. His solmate died, and there was nothing he could do. He knew it could happen, but somehow it hurt anyway. One person has only one soulmate for life. And he wasted his chance by not even trying to find his one.

He didn’t even have time to meet someone for whom fate has chosen this line:

Hoc est vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.

(It is to live twice, when you can enjoy recalling your former life)

And Now it didn’t matter. Would they be lovers, best friends, family? What kind of person was the one whom the universe associated with this quote?Jason is not meant to know.

~~~~~~

Todd was suffering from nightmares. No, to be more specific, he was experiencing a completely different life in a dream. A few days earlier, he had hallucinations in which his surroundings seemed to change the appearance of different eras for a few seconds. Strange glitch. Jason blamed the sleep deprivation that Red Robin must have given him through bite. But Robin didn’t know who the hell Red Robin was.

The search for a biological mother, death and resurrection. His work as a crime lord. His madness and envy to the red robin. It was so strange. Life in Gotham never allowed him to be a naive child like the idiots of Metropolis but those dream memories made him grow up to fast again. In an attempt to wash away this nightmare and this blood, Jason stands under a cold shower at five o'clock in the morning. And then he notices that his mark has changed. It looks like a tree crown now.

On top of the old grey line a neon-green quotes lit up in latin, but now Jason can read them without a dictionary:

1)Death pursues the man even as he flees from it.

2) Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.

3) There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

When B tries to pat him on the shoulder after the patrol, Robin dodges. Too much has happened, or rather, too much should happen. These dreams are too real to be the result of fear toxin damage or something else. The feeling of betrayal and fear that comes when he just thinks about the damn clown is too intense. And now he's too weak to fight him. He doesn't have his gang or a more mature body, or even the confidence in Batman that allowed Robin to fly without a doubt.

~~~~~

~You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart~

If you were loved by a man when he was alive, then the love of a ghost will be for you either a blessing or a curse. And if the spirit is not at rest because of his hatred for man, then there is no special sense to put up with the dead. They can hardly change their attitude. They don’t think critically. Maddie and Jack expound this theory on career day for Danny’s classmates. And they don’t understand why their boy looks at the presentation with horror.

Danny was fond of the quote on his wrist. It gave him hope many times even in the darkest of times.

~Fortis est ut mors dilectio / Love is strong as death~

Danny never listened to his parents' theories before. But what if they’re right? What if the ghosts of nature are just good liars and his ghost half convinced his human half that he’s still capable of emotion? Were these just residual memories of affection about family and friends that forced him to stay in Amity Park? Was it just his ghost obsession that told him a man behind his mark was important?

For the first time, when Jazz summons all the Phantoms to a weekly meeting, Danny does not seek excuses, but brings the matter up for a discussion.

Truly, it's no surprise to him that Dan’s tattoo is invariable. But it’s a bit of a surprise that Dani shares special human with them. Well, as ghosts, they have zero chance of actually spending their "lives" with the person behind words, so there’s no reason to be jealous of each other.

A lot of soulmates live their lives without each other, and it's not a tragedy. Or so Danny and Dani thought. Until Dan sarcastically notes during a family therapy session in Jazz’s room that their soulmate will not live to be fifteen either.

Their feelings or their absence will wait. Their soul mate is now in real danger, and this is far more important than the existential crisis of a few pieces of ectoplasm. This is the main problem. Jazz doesn’t agree, but honestly, the older sister has always been a bore. Danny panics and Dani also bursts into tears when Dan just shrugs his shoulders.

Danny: So you know who is our soulmate is, right? Dan: Of course I do. And I know the grave won’t hold him forever. Dani: So how is he..going to die? Dan: Murdered. By the Joker. I studied the case. Asked Vlad to still it for me. That was the beginning of the end, I think. So many broken bones and so much blood, and then the explosion. Not the best way to die. The only thing I regret is that I didn't stop playing the hero and kill that damn clown before it happened. It would solve so many problems. And why didn't I throw a temper tantrum a couple of days earlier instead of trying to get rid of my emotions first?

Danny: True. That shit didn't work anyway. Dan: Shut up. Dani: I was hoping that our soulmate would be happy even without us. Does this really have to happen? Isn't there anything we can do? Dan: Ask your time freak. But in my experience, anything connected to Phantom just doesn’t get a happy ending.

~~~~~~They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing~~~~~~

Jazz is not surprised when after breakfast with her siblings she's asked to leave so they can talk to themselves alone. Dan: Well, shoot. What else do you want to know? Danny: Like you didn’t figure it out. All right. When you asked Vlad to separate your human half from ghost half, whether you really wanted to get rid of human emotions or.. Dan: Or did I try to kill myself? You are me. You must know the answer. Nobody's left. Could you live with the shame of not being able to save them? Dani: Um, that vile monster who made all this happen with out soulmate, it was still exist in your timeline? Dan: Yes. And Batman too. Even after Jason's death he didn’t get rid of the damn clown.

Danny: You were supposed to be there for him. Dan: I know. Dani: Did you at least avenge him? Dan: I tried. But his paranoid furry dad, with his backup plans for backup plans, was always getting in my way. Dani: Batman? Our soulmate is Robin? Danny: Come on, you terrorized the entire Amity Park, don’t tell me you’re scared of a man in a bat suit. You couldn't get rid of one person under bat's nose? Seriously? We're such a disgrace, man. Dan: Oh please, don’t be ridiculous. Danny: So why not? Dan: Because Batman is his father, like I said. You know how I work. Even if I had only come for Joker, there would be no guarantee that I wouldn't end up getting into a fight with this vigilante as well. Even if the bastard deserved a good beating, it would still be awkward if our soulmate returned to the world of the living and it turned out that this was not what he wanted, right? Danny: How thOughTfuL.

Dan:...I think I told you to shut up.

Danny: Yeah, yeah. So, what’s the plan? Dan: You do realize that if I go to Gotham, I won’t spare Joker or anyone who will try to hurt our bird? Danny: Well, if Сlockwork has a problem with it he should say it to my face. I’m not asking you to hold back. Not this time. Joker is not just a random guy or a ghost who can be talked out of his ideas. Better nip the problem in the bud. Dani: Yeah. We are ghost, so it's our nature to protect what belongs to us. And we are selfish because we are humans. We can’t hide it, well, from ourself, right? Danny: Um, right, but we think you should stay. It's too dangerous. Dani: But he's my soulmate too! Even if he doesn't get to know either of us, I also want to do something to help him. Someone has to serve as a distraction or be ready to help. I'm coming too. It's not up for discussion.

Dan: Just let her. She's just as stubborn as we are. We'll spend more time on pointless arguments than on the mission itself.

Danny: I hate it when you're right.

Dani: Now, should we tell Jazz about our weekend or? Danny: Good question.

~~~~~~ Jazz: Where are you guys going? Danny: To commit murder. Nothing brings families together faster, you know? Want to come with us? Jazz: Haha, very funny. Take me a burger on the way home. Dani: Okay. Dan: Oh, she's gonna kill us.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 3. ┐

Aemond x daemon’sdaughter!wife reader

⋆˚࿔ reader part 1 & part 2 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: Heavy melancholy of jahaerys’ funeral and a difficult aftermath of the tragic affair brings out feelings and confession (mainly hurt comfort)

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: Jaehaerys’ funeral, b&c aftermath, small folk chants

As the news progressed further down to dragonstone, an unwavering tension settled within the walls of the black council. Upon finding out the works of Daemon under her own, Rhaenyra’s name, she grew relentlessly furious. The lack of remorse and understanding gravity of the situation by the king consort was something that unnerved the queen even more so. The funeral for the boy was being prepared for as she had to stand hand on hand, heavy of heart and guilty of crimes she did not commit whilst daemon being unbothered as ever. Even after all that had occurred he regretted little of his miscalculation and more of his daughter still out of his reach. “It is only right I want my daughter back! By whatever means I have left to myself I cant keep on sitting in stupid council meetings, talking action stations whilst the hightowers have my daughter!”

Rhaenyra sighed looking away for a second, the conversation they were having was as it reaching lengths and she had to hold herself back from pointing out just how late daemon had this epiphany of concern for his daughter. Personally, Rhaenyra never had anything against y/n but it was Daemon’s disdain and locked up dislike for his own daughter which made her estranged and isolated from the family and bond she could have had even before he decided to marry her off “It is not that I do not hold any regard for y/n, I do. More than you ever did yourself.” She did not point when she tried to change Daemon’s mind when he decided to marry y/n off to Aemond before everything happened. She knew he regretted that as it is, “you can’t just act about as you wish now. You taint my name and my authority-”

“Wanting my daughter back is not a whim. She is in a disturbing place, married to that one eyed cunt do you think they are treating her with mercy?” Daemon interrupted her. He felt increasingly unsure and guilty of the life he subjected his own daughter to. Surely, he could never be gentler nor acceptive of his daughter, an extension to the hatred he held for her mother and the loss of his own personal freedom. Yet, the horror that had transcended broke down all his walls he held against y/n.

“You put her in that position!” Rhaenyra exclaimed out of frustration. “Despite everyone’s better judgement you were so eager to be rid of her and now you use her name to justify your self servings!”

“I’m not using my firstborn name to justify anything I simply want her back!” Daemon’s voice roared through the room as he found it difficult to get the truth of his conscience across to his wife. He couldn’t get it across to himself either but he felt urges more than he did reasons.

“I want her back too.” Rahaenyra declared, in truth she couldn’t be a ruler if she would surpass kindness to those of her own kin. The innocents within her kin. As far as she could tell y/n was one of the most misfortunate innocents she’d known. The timid sweet motherless child living at the hands of a vengeful father. “Do you think I don’t consider the horror she must be facing. Aemond, made it difficult for me to find the remains of my son I cannot even stomach the thought of pain he must inflict upon y/n.” She said in a weary tone, “All because…had my father or you, given second thoughts to the godawful marriage union of them she would’ve—”

“We can’t afford to indulge in what ifs when this is the time for action!” Daemon interrupted her as the guilt crept in more and more at her words. She was right of course, he did not miss y/n he felt responsible. “I will not be as though my hands are tied when they’re not. I will do everything in my power to get my daughter back.” This was perhaps the first time in all his life that he referred to y/n as his daughter. With the fatherly claim she had yearned for all her life…he was able to give it to her now, just now when she wasn’t around to revive it.

-

The funeral procession for the green heir, across the coast of dragonstone was an excruciating affair. The princess sat next to her mother in law the dowager queen as Helaena sat on the other side of the carriage next to her mother. Alicent, in the middle holding both of their hands as the royal women proceeded for the funeral.

Chants of public support ran through the streets of King’s landing yet none of it seemed to matter, as though it could do something. As though it could bring the boy back. The queen grew more and more restless and alicent tended to her, y/n tried too but every sight she laid her eyes on was more horrific than the other. A disgusting addition to the visions already recapping inside her head. The intruder, the blood, the disheveled room, the blood, the council meeting, the blood, Aemond’s quiet distress, the blood, just so much blood. She couldn’t be rid of the sights, ringing in her ears came over and over.

It was sickening. Everything was so sickening she felt physically weak. The politics of this procession in itself felt a heavy degradation of grief. And it was. Grieving women out on display for the public to see the works of the pretender queen. Without even being present across the coast y/n could surely tell just who was capable of such barbarism. Having faced it first hand herself she knew it was daemon behind this plan through and through and yet he wasn’t held accountable. The small folk called out for them as the carriage moved forward, perhaps their empathy was guaranteed for something but y/n couldn’t digest it.

Their chants, “Princess y/n! We grieve with you!”

“…the daughter that never was…”

“forsaken by kin and crown…Princess y/n we grieve for you!”

“A motherless child left in the pretender’s wake”

“Our rouge prince’s firstborn wronged by the black queen! The gods weep for your tragedy!”

gods…such plight laid bare for the people to see and this is how they perceive it. The wounds on her face, her father’s doing…all of it is ‘the pretender’s’ fault. All of their supposed well wishes or slogans twisted her stomach. She wanted to scream, tell them whose hands held the blood over the boy, over the cuts on her.

"From Lady Royce’s loss to Rhaenyra’s disdain—Princess y/n suffers"

That one felt like being stabbed in the ears, she felt her ears rang so loud, somewhat thankfully she didn’t hear further than that for a while. Lady Royce. A name she wouldn’t want to hear in this setting, a name she did not hear in so long and this, this felt like a cruel joke. She felt her mother’s loss all her life. But she suffered more due to Daemon’s disdain. Even now, away from him, a whole another life yet she was subjected to misery after misery by that man and everyone still saw him highly. The narrative couldn’t be surpassed in any way, she felt like a cornered animal in her father’s playground. She felt closer to the gods in the heaviest of her griefs but she couldn’t be sure if they did weep for her tragedy, looking up to the bland sky she hoped they at least witnessed.

The day was the foulest she had perhaps ever lived, the funeral parade worsened Helaena’s state even more so. Alicent and Y/n tried to help her through it, this whole ordeal was such an unnecessary test for Helaena.

After the funeral, even the darkest days seem to have a nightfall resulting a darker night. Y/n had fallen victim to a heavy fever. A result to the circumstances of a day which felt as long as a year. Her wounds were properly tended to and closed once she returned from the funeral but the fever simply elevated. Her mental turmoil truly did not help her situation, not meaning to worsen her situation but she couldn’t stop her thoughts. The smallfolk’s chants, the visions…everytime she closed her eyes she couldn’t help but open them teary once again. The maesters worked on her the entire evening until her fever stopped elevating but did not lower even. Whimpering and tossing on the bed, her limbs were hot enough to be on fire yet she felt cold of the north. The maids changed the cloth on her forehead over and over, she refrained from eating anything. A very difficult sight for Aemond. He had been present in the room the entire time, he did not leave her sight ever since she returned. Wanting to pick a bone with his mother and grand sire, that his wife’s condition was a result of their need to leave her wounds bare for the funeral. Yet Aemond remained at her side, muttering sweet nothings and offering her reassurances. “Are you still cold?” He would ask her softly as he adjusted another layer over her sleeping form.

In response she meekly shook her head, too weak to muster words. Wincing as she shifted inside the bed. She truly didn’t feel the pain from the fever that had taken ahold of her given the mental suffering held a stronger grip. “You aren’t going to leave are you?” She asked him, worried, so worried that he would leave and somebody would come in and take her away. A harm was her way…she couldn’t shake off the paranoia. Aemond even got their chambers changed so the sights of the walls she was violated in wouldn’t remind her of the same things. But it was of little help.

“No my love, I am right here.” He told her as he caressed her forehead through the warm cloth on her head, the maids took their leave in a bit and Aemond tried to coax his wife to sleep. “I won’t leave your side.”

“Aemond” she whimpered in a half conscious state, “I don’t want to go…”

Her worries made his heart sink to his stomach. Given the fever ridden state that she was in, his words would barely be reasoned with her. “You are not going anywhere, you are right here.” He tried to help her with same words in different ways, trying to assure her she was safe. “You are with me, you are safe.” Holding her hand, caressing her until she fell to slumber after a while.

Criston, visited him later that very night as Aemond was situated next to y/n restless and sorry for her state. Since she was deep into slumber he decided to have his usual meeting with Cole in the adjoining room, not that far from her. The council within the council went over the regret, remorse the plannings of upcoming action stations. Plotting ahead of others, however a heavy dread hung in the silent air of the room as Aemond stared at the board in front of him. Glancing back at the other room to make sure y/n was alright. “How is the Princess?” Cole asked.

Shaking his head, Aemond looked to the side into the fireplace. His eyes holding the same fire, “If grand sire didn’t insist on leaving her wounds open she wouldn’t be in this state.” He scoffed.

“Sorrow does not have words, grief simply grows disorderly.” Cole tried to counsel Aemond’s frustration.

“The maesters worked on her all evening. She refuses to eat, cannot situate in our previous chambers and she is growing restlessly frightened as if she is being hunted for sport.” Aemond briefed Cole about her state, “Can sorrow speak louder than this?”

The kingsguard did not have any response for Aemond’s ever so justified anger over the whole situation, “it is comfort to know she at least finds whatever consolation within you.”

Aemond did not exactly believe that despite their spark, but he couldn’t surpass their arguments either. However now it just felt like she had no other option but him to rely on, perhaps? Before he could dwell more on that thought he heard a stumble from the room. Immediately he rose to his feet to inspect what the noise was and y/n was out of her bed, rummaging through the shelf of books. “You are in no state to be out of bed” he said as he reached her in a few strides.

Yet she was focused on finding something through the bookshelf, ignoring Aemond’s concern. He caressed her forehead with the back and forth of his palm resulting the fever being steady and not elevated. He dismissed Cole with his regard of calling the maester. “Y/n, you have to get back to bed” he said as he gently tried to hold her up by her bicep.

“No!” She protested freeing herself out of his grasp, “I promised Jaehaerys I would read to him after dinner, I completely forgot.” Y/n informed him ever so casually as she continued rummaging through the bookshelf for the story book “I just can’t seem to find the book.”

Aemond’s heart broke at her state, her mind but be hazy from the tea of varying herbs in her system to help her through the fever yet, this was so much more painful. “Y/n…” he proceeded softly as he managed to pull her away from the bookshelf. “My love you have a really bad fever.” He would be dammed if he reasoned with her about their nephew this very moment.

“Aemond, I am fine. I must find that book-“ she was relentless to her cause. The few hours of fever sleep she had must have made her believe that the past few happenings were a bad nightmare. “I have to…I-“ reality seeped in and it felt like the walls all around her were breaking down. As if the world was crumbling to dust, “Aemond…I-i promised him.” Tears welled up her eyes as the realisation hit her but the denial was such an easier life to lead. “I promised I…I-i would read to him and I never—“ she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence as she broke down into tears.

No words were present to console her so Aemond enlaced her into his arms. Holding her against his chest tightly as he rubbed her back, “shh…” he said resting her chin on top of her head as her sobs filled the room.

The weight of the world crumbled on her shoulders, weakening her legs along with her spirit she fell to her knees as Aemond slowly held her down to the floor and situated her onto his lap. “Just breathe.”

“Jaehaerys-“ she wept into her hands, “He wanted me to read it to him-yesterday at that moment but I dismissed it for later-I—he made me promise him I’d read it to him…” she trailed off as she cried, her entire body trembling in Aemond’s arms. Her remorse was inconsolable.

“Loss of the boy cannot be compensated…in any way” Aemond said as he removed her hands from her face to look at her properly. Holding her face by her chin for her to meet his gaze, “his suffering is done. His spirit shall live on within us…with you. The love that you hold for him.”

Aemond’s words were not meant to console her because she couldn’t be. He wished for her to find some strength, help her mettle. “My thoughts are too loud” she confessed still crying, “all the blood, all his blood…Aemond he is so small, so young” she cried into his arms this time. Unable to breathe and meet his gaze simultaneously. “Every time I close my eyes I—I can’t see anything else and I hear the same words-the small folk over and over again.” She cried. “It is all too loud…”

He couldn’t tell apart if she was trembling out of her fever or her meltdown however he did not want to risk her well being any more. Aemond carried her up into his arm, his hand snaking through her waist and legs across his other arm. He carried her to the small distance of bed in bridal style instead of making her walk it. He nestled her back within the covers and remained close to her, wrapping his arms around her again. “What of the small folk?” He asked her.

“The funeral today, they kept on saying-daughter that never was…rogue prince’s first born-forsaken.” she said in between sobs, inconsolable sobs as he rubbed her back, easing her. “They said my mother’s name, my mother, I haven’t heard her name in so long” her voice came out broken as she cried and briefed him together. “They believe it is but Rhaenyra’s fault, it’s him. This is his doing, the blood—it’s all in his hand yet they all believe-“ she choked out her words. Her crying made it impossible to continue coherent words and thoughts, both.

Aemond’s eye widened in horror, he did not think the perception scenario at all. This is perhaps exactly what Otto wanted but its effect on his wife was un-fathomable. “Y/n.”

He told her a bit firmly and pulled away a bit to face her properly. “I want you to trust me, trust that I will not let Daemon get away. He will pay not just for this but all his missteps and wrongdoings to you all your life.” He told her, holding her face in his hands. “You have my word. He will pay.”

“Why must my life by subjected to misery and then vengeance for that misery?” She asked, extremely exhausted of this whole ordeal. All she wanted was to be rid of that man, be done with all the pain her father brought with him. “When shall this be done…when will I escape him?”

“You have.” He told her, his voice carrying no hint of hesitation even with his following words. “Because I love you. And for me to love you I haven’t had to know him, all his wrongdoings, because you are not what he has subjected your life to. You are what you have overcome, you are your strength and your wit and your resilience all of which you did not inherit from him.” He explained to her in a gentle manner as he fixed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, “I love the lady that you have raised yourself to be. You are far away from him, you don’t have to worry or live behind him for I love you. I love you most thoroughly for all that you are, wholly, I am in love with you.”

-

HIIII please comment what you think I’ll post more regular updates from now on !!!

- 🏷️

@love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9 @whiteoakoak @barnes70stark @radiantdanvers @starryhiraeth @lechat-rouge @esposadomd @lynnbells @rosey1981 @coutureisart @misspinkonmars @vieenr0se @duck-duck-goose2 @sansaints

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x reader - even after months apart

You stood in front of the hero commission, a heavy heart in your head, but a blank look on your face as you stare at them.

“So you want me to infiltrate a gang of villains, and gather as much information as you need?”

One of the men nods, clasping his hands together.

“Yes, with your quirk, your heightened sense you are the perfect candidate for the job, we need to know everything regardless of how small it may seem.”

You nod again, looking down at the engagement ring on your finger before looking back up at the ground who had gathered in front of you.

You didn’t exactly have a choice in this, these people controlled your whole career, and if you didn’t thousands of people could be hurt.

“What about my family…? Friends…?”

Someone else sighs and she speaks up.

“They’ll be told that you went missing on a mission, which means we’re going to need your ring, and your phone.”

You hand over your phone, and hesitate to hand over your ring, and they were patient while waiting.

After what felt like forever, you slowly slide it front your hand, pressing a kiss to it, whispering a quick sorry before handing it over to start your uncover mission.

It was going to be long, dreadful, and it would take a while to earn the villains trust before you could start gaining valuable information that’ll help the other heroes when the time comes.

Every night you would sit on your bed in the room they had eventually given you, just staring up at up at the ceiling, thinking about the man you loved.

The man you left behind so you could do this.

The same thoughts always rushing around your mind.

Would he be okay?

Would he be safe?

Is he still looking for you?

Has he moved on?

Will he hate you if this all ends?

Would he still love you?

Would he forgive you?

You sigh, burying your face into the capture scarf of his that you had managed to take from the apartment months ago before you left for this mission.

He didn’t use this one anymore, it was ripped and had some holes, but it still smelt like him, reminded you off him and brought you comfort.

With another sigh, you sit up and cross your legs as you close your eyes, focusing on your hearing while you activated your quirk.

You listened to everything going on around the villains base, moving from sound to sound to find anything that could be of use to the hero commission.

Sometimes you would linger on a conversation to just listen to what villains spoke about when they weren’t committing crimes before you moved on after a few minutes.

Everything of interest you heard you would pick up a book and underline certain words.

More months slipped by, and you dropped the book off in a post office with an address written on it, before going back to the villains base.

They only send you out on small run missions, dropping things off at the post office, each time you changed the address to the hero commissions office.

On the way back you grabbed a new book, and carried on walking down the street with your hood up.

“Stop walking now.” A cold voice demanded.

Your whole body tensed up, and you stopped, recognising the voice.

He was standing in an alleyway just behind you.

“So this is what you’ve been doing? Hiding?” He snapped.

“Shouta please….” You whispered.

“You just disappear without a trace, leave your engagement ring with the hero commission without saying a single word. Is that really how much how relationship was worth to you?” He asked lowly.

You sigh a little bit, keeping your gaze turned towards the ground.

“No….”

“Then what the hell was it?!” He snapped quietly.

You let out a heavy sigh again.

“I think about you every night…” you whisper.

Aizawa carefully looks at you, you wouldn’t even turn to look at him.

“I just… I pray that after all this ends I still have a place inside your heart…. When you see what I’ve become I just… I want to know if you’ll love me for who I am…”

You take a small breath.

“I’ll be back some day… I just hope when that day comes you won’t hate me…”

With that, you slipped into the crowds before he could even think about saying something else to you.

That was all you saw off him, and even then you couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, you felt so ashamed for hurting him the way you had, breaking his trust, leaving him alone.

The mission went on for a few more months before everything was in place for the heroes to move in, and you were immediately taken back to the hero commission and here you spent hours in and out of meetings.

When they were all finished, you stepped outside of the building into the morning sun and took a small breath, looking around.

Your phone was dead, and had been for months, you weren’t sure about going back to the shared apartment, you didn’t even know if Aizawa would even still be there, so you headed to a hotel instead and booked a room for the week.

Getting a shower, you went back out to buy some clean clothes and a charger and went back to the hotel room for sleep and to charge your phone.

What woke you up a knocking on your hotel room door, and with a grumble you got up and walked over to answer it.

“Room service…?” You asked half asleep.

“Guess again.” A gruff voice spoke.

You stared at Aizawa half asleep, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m too tired to argue with you right now…”

You walked back over to the bed and laid down, resting your head in your arms as you laid on your stomach.

Aizawa closed the door and walked over, standing at the end of the bed.

He just stared at you with narrowed eyes, and his gaze slowly moved to a few scars on your arms.

He knew you, he knew your body, and he knew that before you just up and left you never had those scars.

He slowly walked over, sitting on the edge of bed, carefully leaning over slightly, getting a better look at them.

“What the hell happened while you were away…?” He whispered.

You just grumbled, still exhausted and rolled on your side with your back to him, your shirt rose up, and he could see a few smaller scars on your lower back and he looked to the bottom of your shirt, slowly reaching out.

Within an instant you grabbed his wrist, now sitting up and looking at him with a warning look.

“Shouta don’t….”

“(Y/N) what the hell happened…? What have you been doing all these months…?”

You took a deep breath, loosening your grip on his wrist but not fully letting go as you looked away.

“I can’t tell you… I’m sorry…”

He nodded, he had a feeling it was something to do with the mission he was sent on with a lot of other heroes to a group of villains base, but he wouldn’t push you to talk about it.

Aizawa sighed gently

He glanced to his scarf that you had taken which was sat on a chair in the corner of the room, then back to you.

“I’m sorry for everything…. For leaving you the way I did… if I could go back and change it I would…”

“I think I understand… but I just… I wish you would have reached out (Y/N) to tell me you were okay… that you were alive…”

You looked away, and he slowly pulled his hand back until his palm was pressed against yours, and he slowly laced his fingers with yours.

You still couldn’t meet his gaze, and his face softened.

“Hey… hey look at me…”

You raised your gaze to meet his, and he brought the back of your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles.

“Whatever happened then.. you’re safe… now come home?”

“You… want me to come back…?”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head.

“Yes, the bed is empty without you and I can’t find anything, come home.”

This made you laugh a little bit, and you grabbed what you had to go back to the apartment with him.

The moment you were through the door Aizawa placed his hands on the sides of your face, gently leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds and he dug through his pockets before finally pulling out your engagement ring, putting it back on your ring finger before kissing it.

“Mine…” he mumbled.

He rested his chin on your head, still holding your hands in his, and you closed your eyes in content.

This was all you wanted, to be back here with him, to be back with your future husband knowing you were safe and loved

[missshirophantom]

From the author : hello everyone! A few days later, but I'm done with this part. It took me a while... And I wrote twice as much as I originally planned. But since the part itself was thought out in terms of what was going to happen, I did not dare to divide it into two parts. This work was written based on my yandere Seb post. Have a nice read.

English is not my native language, I apologize for the mistakes.

Warnings : g/n reader, description of violence, description of injury, hint of harassment (but that's in the past), mention of strangulation, possessive behavior, paranoia, kidnapping.

Number of words : 6 593

There you are

So much has happened in the last months of your life that you're almost sure you're in some kind of B-movie of whatever genre.

Being accused of a violent crime that you didn't commit, disappointing your family and loved ones, being sent to prison, and then strange people coming promising release for a "small favor." All you have to do is get a certain crystal for them, avoiding unknown threats and return back with an undamaged object.

It sounds pretty easy and the reward is pretty tempting, right?

Even though you knew that your family was disappointed in you and rejected you right in the courtroom, you still wanted to return to them. To prove to them that this crime was committed not by you, but by someone else. Although it did not occur to you that there is no evidence of your innocence anymore, and your family has been inspired with blatant lies about you. So much so that it is impossible to convince them, despite all the warm relations in the past.

But you are young. Naive and just enrolled in a prestigious college, how do you know how bad and terrible things can be in the world? Only from those romanticized series.

But now... This is your reality. Your life, which you absolutely did not want. You would be glad to forget this beginning horror, but you can't. Every time you opened your eyes and saw the wall of your cell, reality crashed down on you like cold water in the middle of a dream.

So... Yes, you had good reasons to accept a strange offer from the same strange people.

All in order to get back to the family. Or at least to your usual, normal life.

You exhaled softly and shifted a little on the hard, spring-loaded mattress before closing your eyes and taking a little nap before going on a mission with the other prisoners.

* * *

You are very sorry that you agreed to this.

Your thoughts were spinning wildly in your head as you struggled to breathe, cowering in the closet and holding the doors tightly so that the creature could not open them and pull you out.

You squeezed your eyes shut when the ugly and distorted face of the fish continued to scream at you when it sees you through the small cracks in the door.

Time seemed to freeze under this terrible scream in your ears, and your hands began to hurt when you used all your strength to hold the doors in place. But after a while, that scream died down, as did the attack on the closet where you hid on pure instincts.

You didn't immediately understand when it was finally over, and even if you did, you would have sat there for some time, trembling all over and gasping for air. Tears of fear threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them back, biting your lip and suppressing a quiet sob.

You weren't exactly sure which room you were in, which door you went through, hell, even how much time had passed when you got out of that damn submarine. About the threats, you thought that these were ordinary security systems in the face of the same turrets... Although they were controlled by some kind of reasonable AI.

But damn it, these people weren't talking about real monsters!

At first, some people are statues pretending to be walls and sneaking after a person to eat them later. Then there are a bunch of strange creatures making loud noises, breaking the lamps in the room, which are rushing like crazy. And one of them is actually trying to get you out of the locker. Or a creature with tentacles that hides in the closet itself, waiting for an inattentive prisoner.

Although the worst monsters you met were: a creature behind a fake door, a giant fish with a bunch of eyes and a creature trying to get you out of the closet.

If it weren't for the "kind" prisoners you met along the way and not trying to kill you, steal your collected research and food, or do something much worse, then you wouldn't know anything about these monsters at all.

However, you still had to give away some of the precious food, even if it was granola bars. And the collected research, although you didn't fully understand why they were needed. But the information was more valuable than the food and the data that can be found before you die unknowingly.

The statue people were Wall Drawers and would sneak up on the man from behind to then eat him. All I had to do was turn around and listen often.

And the bunch of creatures that fly like mad across the room were Angler, Blitz. There were also three, but you did not encounter them. The creature that's trying to get you out of the locker is Pandemonium. Good People is that monster from the fake door. Eyefestation is that giant fish with a bunch of eyes.

One of the prisoners who was in a small group kindly told you about them and how to deal with them. It was quite useful, even if you mourned a little for the loss of food and some research, even if they were useless.

However, it was a pity about the latter after you learned from the words of other prisoners that you were not here for the first time (which is surprising for you) and that somewhere here there is a small store where you can buy a first-aid kit with batteries and other things, and the payment is just for these studies.

You didn't even have to sacrifice anything, because there was a newcomer among those prisoners and they told him about a certain intelligent being who runs this store and calls himself Sebastian. Of course, you didn't really understand anything, but you took note of this useful information.

Although you are still worried about the further words of the prisoners about how scary and rude this seller is. The saboteur, as they also call him. There was also a rumor that he was the one who organized the pogrom on this huge base under water.

Although you thought more that this was just a typical way of bullying the elders over the younger ones, exaggerating or inventing what is not there. Although... Considering the whole situation, perhaps the prisoners were not exaggerating.

After that, quite a lot of events happened, so you forgot about a certain store and a mysterious seller in time.

Especially when you have just experienced the 5th meeting with Pandemonium.

After that, you still wonder how you miraculously survived. Especially when Pandemonium was quite persistent, chasing you through every room.

You carefully opened the closet door, finally getting out of it when you started to feel a little claustrophobic. Your legs could barely hold you up, so you just sat on the floor, catching your breath and trying to somehow regain your strength.

You couldn't help but look around for a threat every couple of minutes and hold your breath, listening. It was pretty quiet, which should have been relaxing somehow, but it's completely wrong. It feels like there will be an even stronger storm after such a strong lull.

You are not exactly sure that there will be something much scarier than Pandemonium and a fish with a bunch of eyes.

I have no other way out. You exhaled softly, took off your helmet for a short time to quickly eat a small granola bar that you found next to the gnawed body of one of the prisoners when you avoided meeting with Wall Drawers the day before. You refused to admit the idea that you might end up in this prisoner's place if you weren't vigilant enough.

A skeleton in a uniform and diving equipment lying in the middle of the room.

You barely swallowed a piece of a hard and dry bar, ignoring the nausea caused by hunger and the horror of memories, and struggled to stand on trembling legs. You held on to the locker, feeling a little dizzy, and after standing there for a while, you started walking again. Even if it's not as fast as at the beginning, but with the maximum vigilance that you have, despite the lack of at least some sleep over these days (and maybe weeks... Your sense of time is blunted, and the clock is almost not there), hunger and a generally exhausted state.

You looked through every desk and staff lockers in search of data and useful items, by type of flashlight and flash. Maybe you will be lucky and there will be something to eat, except for granola bars, which are not so healthy. Or a bottle of water that didn't have time to spoil.

However, you have been very unlucky lately. Either because other prisoners who took everything managed to walk here before you, or there is simply nothing here... Or here it is in a slightly different case. Who knows.

In any case, it upset you, especially when your condition worsened every day, that at any moment you simply would not be able to walk. Or worse, but you preferred not to think about it.

You were almost absently examining tables, cabinets and shelves, passing through each door, trying to save energy for running.

It must have all played a role that you almost missed another couple of steps behind you. If it weren't for your instincts flaring up, you wouldn't have noticed Wall Drawers literally a meter away from you. You instantly turned around, looking at the creature with barely concealed alarm and hurriedly walking backwards, groping for the door to the next room.

However, the day could have been even worse, because you got on a fake door, too focused on Wall Drawers to hear breathing outside the door.

In the next second, a scream was heard and you fell to the floor, clutching your injured hand, while Good People mistakenly grabbed Wall Drawers instead of you. Although before that, I managed to cripple your leading hand. Not much, but being in the current situation, it causes great inconvenience.

You didn't fully realize what happened in just a second, but Wall Drawers must have managed to grab your hand and take a bite before you jumped back and Good People managed to accidentally grab them instead of you.

What a stroke of luck.

You couldn't hold back a quiet sob and whimper, clutching the wound on your arm. You saw a dark red, almost viscous liquid flowing out between your fingers, staining your uniform and dripping onto the floor. Pursing your lips and holding your breath, you carefully removed your palm and restrained yourself from crying out how terrible the wound was.

You hastily returned the gaze, trying not to look at the wound a second time and rummaged in your bag, trying to find at least something that will help you to bandage the wound for the first time.

There was nothing useful, because you couldn't find a first-aid kit the whole way, so you had to tear off the rest of the sleeve and bandage the wound. It turned out to be a very clumsy bandage made with one hand. In theory, you should have made another small bandage over your head so that the arm would remain motionless and not get in the way too much, but there just wasn't enough fabric for that.

You barely ignored the terrible pain in your arm, which seemed to pierce to the very bones (which is not entirely far from the truth), and barely got up from the floor, trying to come up with a plan of action.

You definitely really need a first aid kit. And to have a needle and thread in it, because the wound looked like something that needed to be sewn up. And even if you didn't go to the doctor and didn't touch on such medical topics in any way, but something had to be done. Even if you end up relying on the movie. What can't be done, but there is no other choice.

Hissing softly through your teeth, you continued walking, holding your hand and trying to be more attentive when you were injured and bleeding. You weren't exactly sure, but you had an idea that the smell of blood might attract someone from these many creatures. You prayed very much that if you were noticed, you would have had a first-aid kit by that time. I don't care about a safe place, the main thing is to take care of the wound, through which some infection can get.

After about a few doors behind, you suddenly heard a voice from which you yourself stopped for no reason. You hurriedly looked around, pressing your back against the nearest closet, thinking that either this was a hallucination, or a group of prisoners whom you needed to avoid more than anything, because not all of them are kind. Especially when you are injured and clearly in a pretty deplorable state.

There was a short silence in which you listened intently, then the voice sounded again. You may not have been able to make out the words completely, but judging by the tone of the threat, there was no threat.

Involuntarily, I flashed memories of those prisoners who talked among themselves about the store here, where you could buy from simple batteries for a flashlight to a first-aid kit. This involuntarily filled your heart with a little hope, although your instincts literally screamed over and over again that it was better not to go anywhere, because danger was possible.

But you didn't pay much attention to it, especially when everything hurt and the blood continued to flow. You needed this first-aid kit, if you have to go through danger for it, then it was worth it. At least you won't die so soon because of this.

Despite the fact that due to blood loss, you barely understood the words, but walked towards the voice, which led you to a small vent. Frowning weakly, you sat on your knees and tried to figure out how to crawl through it carefully so as to disturb your hand as little as possible. After sitting there for a few seconds, you were startled when the lamps blinked several times, which foreshadowed the appearance of one of the fish creatures flying across the room. This caused your sluggish body to move and you hurriedly crawled into the ventilation. The voice trailed off, which scared you a little, but you're sure you heard it here.

You were breathing heavily when you crawled through the vent and stopped briefly when you got out of it.

— Welcome! Welcome, newcomer, — the voice sounded literally above you. It was a little unexpected for you, which made you start and raise your head.

It was... The creature is humanoid. More precisely, you somehow don't want to name another being, especially when he spoke. Despite what he was about... More than 10 meters? It is quite difficult to determine when his long sea snake tail curled up a little in this almost small room, which made it seem smaller than it was.

His skin (or is it already scales?) She was light blue, had short black hair that was tousled. The facial features were sharp, with fins instead of ears... A fish mouth? Although, considering that he has an anglerfish esque, a third arm and a third eye, this is a much less strange sight, especially in a place like this.

The man was wearing a dark brown jacket, a white shirt with a frill. Your gaze involuntarily caught on the holster with a shotgun on his belt and a small bag. You also noticed that there was some kind of strange bulky device on his back, but don't know what it is. Your gaze turns away again and gets stuck on the medicine cabinet in one of the many bags on his long tail.

Ah.

This must be the same store with a certain saboteur.

You flinched when the other intentionally coughed loudly into your hand, and then you were embarrassed by his words:

— Have you enjoyed the view enough?

— Uh, excuse me... Hello, — you squirm a little, involuntarily squeezing your injured hand harder, remembering politeness.

Although what kind of simple politeness is worth talking about in a place like this? But you're a good person.

— Well... Ahem, welcome to my store. You may have already heard about me, but don't believe these stupid rumors, my friend. You can call me Sebastian. You can buy items here for the research that you managed to collect before coming here. They are useless to you, but they will be much more useful to me, — the salesman says matter—of-factly and even a little sarcastically, putting two hands together, clearly not caring that you were literally dying of blood loss in front of his eyes.

Strangely, you don't feel anything from this realization. Indifference is somehow better than those who take advantage of such a position in the terrible sense of the word. You shuddered a little from the memories and gathering your thoughts in a bunch, you asked:

— How much do you have a first aid kit for?..

— 200 studies, — the other immediately replied, somehow cunningly twisting the edges of his mouth.

You look down, groping for your bag and open it to get the right amount. In your opinion, the price was not very high, but within reasonable limits. It's better than buying a first aid kit from other prisoners for their heavenly prices. After transferring the required amount of research into Sebastian's clawed hand, you waited a little while for him to nod, count, and silently take the first-aid kit from his bag.

You carefully opened it, checking the contents and relax a little, seeing what you needed. After closing the first-aid kit and putting away her bag, you nod to the other, muttering softly "thank you" and go back to the ventilation.

— If it makes you feel better, there is a small office space nearby where you can close. The lock is intact there, so you'll know right away.

You were startled by the suddenness and involuntarily looked back at the seller, whose voice sounded... Strange. It was also mocking and indifferent, but something was wrong that made your instincts alert. But the fish-man looked quite normal, mockingly narrowing his inhuman blue eyes and grinning from the corners of his mouth.

— How much?..

— What? — you can see how he obviously feigned incomprehension tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly.

— For the information.

— Ah. Consider it free, — he almost growled the last word through razor—sharp teeth, frowning.

You look at him doubtfully for a few seconds and reopened the bag, taking out 100 studies and putting them on the nearest iron box and this time hurriedly leaving through the ventilation, muttering "thank you" out of habit. There was only stunned silence in response, but you didn't care. You didn't want to get into trouble, especially with a newfound acquaintance for a "free" thing.

Sebastian wasn't lying, and literally across the hall was the very office space that you recognized due to the whole lock, thanks to which you could close the door.

It was... It's such a relief that you could finally just close the door behind you and relax a little. As long as you don't make any noise, no one will try to break in.

Maybe after you took care of the wound, you could get some sleep.

Under the office desk in the corner and in the shade, so that in case of anything you would not be noticed.

* * *

You barely opened your eyes and did not immediately realize where you were, but then the memories reached you, from which you exhaled and squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back.

You successfully sewed up the wound, even though it was terribly hard and you lost consciousness several times due to the hellish pain and blood loss. But fortunately you coped in the end and hardly remembered how you bandaged your arm.

Although...

When you open your eyes and turn your head to the side, you see how your helmet was lying next to you on the floor. Even with a small crack in the glass, which definitely wasn't there. But you must have missed it when you were attacked by Good People.

You can't remember when you managed to take off your helmet before you fell asleep under the table. But you were too tired, so you didn't think much about it. Moreover, things were more important now.

With such a wound, you definitely couldn't keep moving. At least until the pain is less and signs of healing are visible. So you will definitely have to stay in this area for a few days.

Which leads to another task.

You frown weakly, carefully sitting down and pulling your bag towards you, rummaging through numerous secret pockets, pulling out all the food and water supplies to calculate how much is left and how much more is needed.

It is quite poor, without taking into account the fact that there used to be more and you gave this part to the prisoners for information about this place.

A few dry and hard granola bars, a liter bottle of water, and by some miracle a canned food with sprats was found. Which you hate. And you also don't have a can opener.

There will be no problem with water. There was a half-filled cooler in this office room, which is enough for these days and you won't die of dehydration, but here's the food... Considering your current condition, you definitely needed something better than muesli and canned sprats. Moreover, this will be enough for two days at most.

So you definitely need to go out and explore this part of the territory in search of food.

You frown a little at this thought, upset, because the risk of bumping into someone is high. And especially when there was a store nearby, the risk of meeting prisoners is higher than usual.

— Damn, what a disgusting day, — you involuntarily swear under your breath, putting things back into the hidden pockets of the bag and clumsily get up.

Which you immediately regretted, because you almost fell back to the floor, barely managing to grab an office chair.

Okay, you definitely need to just sit for one day to start at least thinking about going somewhere.

You swore under your breath, sitting down in an office chair with irritation and leaning back, staring at the ceiling.

You sat there for an unknown amount of time before falling asleep, which was not very good for your back. Although when you woke up, you felt better and could finally stand. After quickly eating a granola bar and drinking water, you put your helmet back on and carefully opened the door, listening.

It was quiet, which disturbed you, but you couldn't do anything about it and quietly left the room, closing the door behind you. Looking around and listening all the time, you came across a door, behind which there was something like a dining room and a kitchen.

This cheered you up a little and you began to inspect the room, collecting research on the machine. When you reached the kitchen and examined the drawers, you found a slightly bent can opener and another tin can. But thank God not with sprats, but with corn. Pretty good, if a little unhealthy.

In addition, you found already moldy bread and already rotten fruits on the table, the smell of which made your stomach shrink a little and you hurriedly moved away from them.

In general, you were able to find some food in the face of canned corn and some miraculously preserved sausage in the refrigerator. You considered this a victory.

You hummed softly to yourself when you put the food in your bag, deciding to eat the sausage first, which spoiled faster, and also so as not to get soaked in its smell and not run into trouble with people with excellent nose. You definitely don't intend to fight giant prisoners over sausage in your current state.

* * *

You are not sure exactly how many hours have passed since you stopped in the office room. It was a bit of a blur for you, because all you had time to do was explore the nearest rooms, come to eat and fall asleep. And you also looked into the store again to buy a Flash Beacon from Sebastian, a couple of batteries and again a first-aid kit. You spent all your accumulated research, but you didn't regret it.

After all, you still managed to get an infection.

And instead of staying and getting cured like a normal person, you decided that this was the perfect time to continue on your way. And you had your reasons. First, here, next to Sebastian's store, there is a high risk of running into a crazy prisoner or even a group. Which is very bad in your position. Secondly, there is a risk that you will not be able to cure the infection and eventually you will die. Third, you had some kind of unpleasant feeling in the back of your head that you were being watched and something in you said that you should leave as soon as possible.

It was a little sad, because the store clerk was a bit of an interesting conversationalist. When he's not trying to humiliate you at every opportunity, of course. And when this dialogue lasted at least a minute during your next two visits. One because of the strange sound of a gunshot, and the other because of shopping. But for you, it was a little breath of fresh air, after a long conversation with criminals in prison, as well as small skirmishes with them here. And monsters...

You involuntarily recalled your conversation with Sebastian when you bought a first-aid kit and other items. And it ended up being pretty... An unpleasant note.

— Ah, do you intend to go further? With such a wound? — He asked casually, bowing his head and propping it up with one of his hands, looking at you.

You shrugged a little, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, almost studying. Mentally, you reminded yourself that you were wearing a helmet, so he could not know about your appearance, which was well preserved under all the disgusting conditions. To your confusion.

— Yes... Uh, I feel much better. So I won't dare linger here, — you lied a little, grateful in secret that your face was not visible, and your voice was indifferent enough to betray the truth.

You looked up, catching the man's skeptical look before he rolled his eyes.

— Then don't you dare let Wall Drawers bite your hand off again, — he almost growled softly, strangely squeezing his hands tighter.

— What? — you blinked, thinking you misheard.

— I say, come into my store again, you idiot, — he said with a grin and louder, narrowing his eyes maliciously, — or are you deaf?

You pressed your lips together in silence, looking away from Sebastian, saying nothing.

It was at this moment that you heard a noise in the ventilation that made you freeze. The next second, a prisoner who was clearly passing by got out of the ventilation.

You pressed yourself imperceptibly against the wall, silently praying that you would not be noticed immediately and that you would have time to leave before you ran into trouble. And before anyone thought you were a coward, you had strong justifications for behaving that way, especially with other people.

You barely noticed the faint curiosity in Sebastian's gaze before he spoke in his usual sarcastic voice:

— Welcome, friend.

You heard a contemptuous snort from the prisoner before he came over to get the batteries, casually throwing the research. Before you had time to realize that you need to leave unnoticed through the ventilation, you suddenly recognized this person.

Oh shit, the universe really "loves" you, right?

— Who do I see? Is that really our rat, huh?

You flinched when you stopped near the vent.

— Are you completely deaf? You weren't taught to greet your friends, were you? — There was a little anger in the gruff voice.

You curled your lips, but remained silent, turning your head towards the other person. The tall man looked down at you with disgusting amusement.

— What do you want, Chris? — You answered with difficulty in an indifferent voice.

— Why such coldness, huh? Did you really forget your cellmate, huh? — the criminal giggled, smiling broadly and showing his crooked teeth.

— We weren't cellmates, — you corrected coldly.

The other person's face twisted at your tone, clearly not expecting this.

— What, the eggs of the industry during your stay here? Decided to show your teeth, rat?! Have you forgotten who's in charge here? — The prisoner growled through his teeth, clearly restraining himself from running into you with his fists.

You frowned a little, but it was not visible because of the helmet.

How did he even recognize you with the helmet and uniform? Maybe he saw you putting on a helmet at the beginning of the journey? Or how was it given to you along with the uniform?

Although it doesn't really have to do with when to leave. You didn't really want to piss Sebastian off because of that arrogant jerk, even if it wasn't your fault.

It is strange that now you did not feel fear of this prisoner, who spoiled your life, as you were put in prison. So much so that the prison authorities had to put you and him in different cells after his attempt to strangle you in the dining room.

Although it is strange that you two were resettled and you received a solitary cell, because other prisoners, despite all the conflicts, were not resettled... But somehow you didn't think much about it.

You probably didn't think he was particularly scary right now after encountering monsters here. Or you were just tired under the influence of a found painkiller and an increasing infection, despite the fact that the wound was intact and there were no signs of rotting.

Whatever it was, you knew for sure that you had to leave.

— If you want to start a fight, it's not right in the store, — you said indifferently.

Well, you didn't want to inconvenience Sebastian yet, even if he didn't care about what was going on in front of him. But you knew Chris, and you knew what he could do when he was angry. If he accidentally destroyed something here, you didn't know how the seller would react.

But with the condition that during the last meeting you heard a shot here...

It's better not to think about it.

— Ha! Do you still dare to tell me what to do? Have you already made friends with this monster? — the prisoner replied with a laugh, putting his hand on the handle of the Flash Beacon, — you haven't changed at all, you always take care of others. That's why they put you in jail, you stupid rat.

The unpleasant feeling in the back of your head has intensified, which is why your hair has lifted a little there. The developed sense of self-preservation during his stay in prison confirmed that something very unpleasant was about to happen.

And let nothing happen to you, thanks to the dark glass on the helmet that protects you from bright light, but here is Sebastian with his unusual anatomy...

And even if you don't know him, but as a good person, you didn't want him to be hurt and others too. Just like that, even if you didn't feel anything special about him.

You just opened your mouth to stop him, but you didn't have time because at the same second he pulled out a Flash Beacon and pulled the trigger.

In those few seconds, several things happened and a loud sound sounded.

When the lights went out, you saw that the Flash Beacon was lying on the floor, literally broken into splinters, and the prisoner was coughing, clutching at his throat.

— Don't do that again.

You flinched at the absolute fury in Sebastian's voice and raised your head. His mouth was folded as if he was growling and ready to bite at any second, and his eyes were heavily squinted, betraying the degree of rage and slight blindness due to the bright flash.

You swallowed nervously and hurriedly crawled into the ventilation, muttering quiet apologies.

After that, you spent another day locked in the office room, as you waited for your "good friend" to leave either forward or backward. And you didn't know yet how Sebastian would react if he saw or heard you. You may not have cared about it, but you didn't want a bad relationship with the seller of important items.

Stupid people who make him angry. It's going to go sideways for them.

You squirm a little in place and then get up when you put everything in a bag and hung the weapon on your belt to grab it faster. Although Flash Beacon is not really a weapon, but it can blind anyone for a few seconds.

You stood in place for a while to let the dizziness go away and finally left the room with a quiet but fast step. It was a little hard, because there were no pills in the medicine cabinet, and a slight fever had been holding for the second day. But it was bearable enough to continue on the way.

Although you had some very unpleasant feeling in your heart.

* * *

You've. Made. A. Mistake.

Not only did you start to feel much worse, barely thinking because of the rising temperature, but you also stumbled upon Chris.

And even if there was no direct meeting, because you quickly hid so that you would not be noticed, it was still dangerous.

You could hardly restrain yourself from cursing as you crawled behind the tables to get to the open but broken door, hearing curses from that prisoner and those people who were with him. You tried to ignore his words, because they were very unpleasant, especially when they referred specifically to you. More accurately... They are vulgar and in a rather unpleasant way that makes you frankly sick, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You stopped for a moment when your head started spinning again, and black dots appeared in front of your eyes for a moment.

It was at this moment that the universe decided that your situation was quite deplorable, so everything went fine.

You were able to crawl out that door and get up as quietly as possible and also quietly hurried away. As you passed through each door and room, you quickened your pace. At the same time, your breathing accelerated, and your lungs ached quite a bit. However, you tried not to pay attention to it, continuing to walk and hastily looking through tables, drawers and cabinets, almost casually stuffing what you found into a bag.

You went through the next door at number 89 and got stuck a little bit, because you had to find the key card. You did not intend to use a code cracker, believing that it would be useful in a critical situation.

You were weakly looking through tables and drawers, wondering how many more doors and rooms you have to go through before you finally get to the crystal. The optimistic part said there wasn't much left, while the realistic part said there wasn't yet. It's not enough to get the crystal, you still need to go back... In such a weak state.

You made a little face thinking about it when you got up from your knees to look through the cabinets. At the same moment, you felt the floor move away from under your feet, and a gust of wind hit your face.

You blinked dazedly, not immediately realizing with your sick brain what had happened before a damp cloth was pressed to your nose and mouth. This caused your body to twitch instantly, which is why whoever grabbed you and held you at a height had to make efforts so that you would not slip out of their grasp.

You barely heard the grumbling above your head, too panicked to understand the words.

The sweet smell of the liquid on the cloth penetrated your airways as you twitched, writhing in the hands of the invader. It didn't do much and you weren't sure what kind of liquid it was, but you weren't intending to let it have any effect on you. You gripped the invader's hand tightly, which pressed a rag to your mouth, and with the other clumsily hit the obviously large body behind you until your hand weakened and fell on the object on your belt. You immediately grabbed and pulled it out, pointing it back and pulled the trigger.

At the same moment, there was a scream and you fell to the floor. You didn't have time to look around and rushed forward, coughing and gasping for air, clutching the handle of the Flash Beacon tightly.

— You little shit!!..

The voice was very loud and full of anger, but you didn't dare stop, even when it seemed familiar to your brain.

You heard a crash behind you as you ran across the room, skirting tables and deliberately knocking over chairs to slow down the attacker, which was a bit effective, judging by the wave of curses and curses, as well as the subsequent cracking sound. Your heart was pounding wildly, which hardly made you hear anything while you were running in a panic.

When the door, the exit, literally appeared in front of you and almost instantly took out a code cracker, pressing it against the panel with a trembling hand. You were breathing hoarsely, barely holding back a startled sob due to the noise and growling from behind, while the panel was making beeping sounds.

A second later, a small squeak was heard, indicating a hacking error.

From this sound, everything inside you froze, as well as all the noise around.

As if in a fog, you raised your head uncomprehendingly, almost desperately looking at the screen with the number of the next room. But instead of numbers, you saw a sad smiley face, as if sympathizing with your situation.

The last thing you saw after that was how a big shadow covered you, a sweet smell mixed with a strong smell of tobacco penetrated your nose before you lost consciousness.

[longlivechips]

A drabble on what if Arthur repealed the magic ban while Merlin wasn't there. I like the idea of Arthur thinking Merlin will be mad, he said magic has no place in Camelot afterall. And Merlin being like shit I'm gonna have to start telling the truth.

A fic where Merlin goes to visit his mother for a few weeks. It's Yule and he misses her.

While he is gone a child comes to trial. Hardly 12 and clearly terrified. She had been caught using magic.

She swears she didn't mean to, that it just started happening one day and she was so scared of what was happening to her.

The law says she is to burn.

But Arthur just can't seem to make the call. He can only think of the girl Morgana used to be when he looks at her.

He speaks to Gaius and Geoffrey about what Camelot was like before the ban. How people square magic. He learns, for the first time, more than his father had ever let him.

He's thinking of......well not reversing the magic ban. But this girl can't be evil surely.

He wishes Merlin were here, his advice is often quite sound. But Arthur is unsure if Merlin, who has been so outspoken against magic in the past, would agree with such loose laws.

But it comes down to this. Arthur cannot in good conscience kill that girl. And he can not have her as an exception. So he changes the law.

Merlin hasn't spent this long in Ealdor since before he left. He finds it quite lonely without Will to cause trouble with.

But he finds he is not ostracized like he was when he was a boy. In fact, more often than not he has to dodge mothers pushing their daughters onto him as prospects.

He is in his mother's house trying bundles of herbs to be dried and taken back to Camelot when his mother rushes in.

She stairs at him for a moment. Eyes wide, something clearly about to spill off her toung.

"Mother?" Merlin says moving closer, " What's wrong what happened? Has goodie meridan gone into labor?"

"Merlin. My boy. We just received news from Camelot. Gaius sent a letter. I....." Her face is flush. She doesn't look scared but Merlins heart drops anyway

"Arthur...." Merlin starts

"He's fine, he's fine" Hunith walks towards her son, cupping his face in her hands.

She laughs. Full belly and full of joy, her hands on his face strong, they almost hurt.

"He repealed the magic ban Merlin. Oh my boy by royal decree"

Merlins knees nearly give out.

"Surely you aren't serious....." Merlin gasps. "Do you have the letter?"

She hands it over and he reads frantically.

My good Hunith.

I write you instead of Merlin for reasons that will become obvious.

I also just request more of that dried lavender you sent last time, it does not smell the same from the north.

How is your neighbor Gregory fairing with his leg? My tonic recipe helped I hope, I would like to hear how it went.

There is news from Camelot. You might have heard, it will make fast news I'm sure.

A girl was brought to court for magic. Hardly 12 summers, she swears she did not train for magic, that it came naturally and she has no control.

Arthur was hesitant to burn her, despite the law, and tasked me with examining her.

I explained my findings, you know my friend how truly common it is to have magic as the girl does. Arthur listened well, and I sent the king off with what recommendations I could.

There are few books left on the subject but he spoke to Geoffrey. I assume he found some enlightened reading.

The next day, his verdict was as follows.

"The law of the land, as set by my Father King Uther, is that magic has no place in Camelot. I quite agree. Magic is dangerous, it has raveged my family.

But I can't help but think these laws might create more enemies. I cannot kill a girl for a crime she did not willingly commit. But I cannot banish her and create an enemy."

The council spoke on formal matters and specifics but Hunith, it is looking well. I feel hope I haven't had in decades.

Arthur has repealed the magic ban, in part. There are specifics to be worked out, and it is unclear if it would apply to Merlin. It certainly wouldn't apply to myself.

I will write again when I have more details.

I wish I could see the boy's face when he hears the news. Give him my love

Gaius

Merlin reads it. Than again. The third time he skims it he is tearing up. Looking desperately for any sign that Gaius tells a lie.

When he finds none, and there is no answer but that Gaius's words are true.

Merlin weeps. He falls to his knees and weeps.

Hunith cradles his head, spilling some tears of her own.

"oh my boy" she says. "What news. I knew Arthur would be a good king." She presses a kiss to her son's head.

Merlin cries, and wonders why he feels more scared than ever.

[theamberfist]

I'm a Grandpa! | Dad Alastor Headcannons

Familial! Alastor is Reader's Adopted Dad from life

Description: When you, Alastor's adopted child, end up in hell, he's surprised to find that you took in a kid of your own sometime after his death, making him a (not so enthusiastic) grandpa.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, death, violence) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's adopted child) (Reader is an adult) (Reader has an adopted son in this)

Words: 1,249

♡ Alastor died before you did. You had been a young adult at the time, but you were still left pretty much on your own in the world after that

♡ Being the adopted kid of a now-known serial killer tended to be very isolating, so you moved to a new place and took on a new name and identity in order to avoid the negative effects of what your dad had done

♡ Being his child, Alastor had always loved you very much and you really looked up to him. While you'd never been a killer or committed any serious crimes, you liked to believe he'd had good reason for what he'd done, and so you'd continued looking up to him despite it all after his murders came to light

♡ Which is why, when one of the kids you were in charge of looking after at the daycare you worked at turned out to be in a bad home situation, you stepped up

♡ Alastor had adopted you at a very young age from a similar situation and you cared deeply about this child so you ended up taking them in yourself and becoming a parent that day

♡ Your kid was an absolute terror. Alastor had always said you reminded him so much of his mom with your sweet and calm nature, so you supposed it was only natural for your own son to remind you so much of his grandpa with his dramatic antics and slightly violent tendencies

♡ Luckily, you were very good at having the kid's behavior under control and he always listened to you. It was everyone else that needed to worry when he was around

♡ You always hoped that, wherever your dad had ended up after his death, he would have been proud of you for following in his footsteps like this and that he would have loved his grandson if he could have met him

♡ So when you and your son both died in a horrific accident and ended up in hell, one of the first things you did was go looking for your dad so the whole family could be together

♡ Alastor found you long before you would have found him and he happily reunited with you, his child, after so long

♡ Appeared out of nowhere, hugged you, began talking about how much he'd missed you and how good it was to see you again, only to then notice the little boy standing behind you and growling like a feral cat

♡ Assuming the kid had been planning to attack you, Alastor started using his powers to get rid of your son, who immediately fought back like the little animal he was, but you put a stop to it all before anyone could get hurt, shouting for both of them to cut it out

♡ They both froze and you took a deep breath before picking up your son and turning back to your dad, explaining that you'd adopted a child while alive and introducing them as grandfather and grandson

♡ Neither of them were happy about that reveal but since you seemed so excited about the family reunion, they both hid their disdain behind fake smiles

♡ "I see..." Alastor said as he wiped his hand on his suit after shaking your son's hand, "then I suppose it is a pleasure to meet you...Child."

♡ Your son barred his teeth at your dad and that became the start of a deep dislike between them

♡ After that, the three of you all moved into a home together within hell. Alastor had insisted on you living with him again, especially now that you 'had a charge of your own to support' and claimed he simply wanted the chance to spend more time with his child and new grandchild

♡ Yeah, right

♡ Alastor and your son are both very good at acting like they get along while in your presence, but the second your back is turned, they're at one another's throats

♡ He would never actually harm your kid because he knows you would kill him if he did. However, that doesn't mean he won't 'defend himself' if your son attacks him so he takes it upon himself to provoke the child as much as possible and is quite good at it

♡ Several times, you've left Alastor in charge of watching your son while you went out, only to come home to the house nearly on fire. When you find them, they act like they just got carried away baking some treats but it's not hard to tell that that's a lie

♡ You routinely remind them both of how much you want them to get along and they both always claim that they do but it's a complete lie

♡ For how much Alastor loves and adores you, his own kid, he finds that he probably hates your son just as much

♡ You mentioned it to Rosie once when the three of you came to visit her in Cannibal Town and she said it's probably because the two of them are just too similar. Your son, in many ways, is like a younger version of Alastor and that's probably what gets on his nerves so much. That, and the fact that he feels his grandchild takes up way too much of your time and attention

♡ It's not until the two of them gain a common enemy that they finally find a way to be civil

♡ You had never dated much in life, either because of your slightly overbearing father or, later, your slightly overbearing son. Maybe you were never interested in it anyway

♡ But now that you're in hell, you end up finding someone you like enough to make your partner (whether romantic, queerplatonic, or anything else) and then that person starts taking your time away from both of them

♡ Common Enemy: Unlocked

♡ Now Alastor and your son find that they both hate your partner and want them gone so they reluctantly begin working together to subtly get rid of/scare them off

♡ Whenever your partner is over, they'll split up so that one of them makes an excuse to spend time with you while the other goes to your partner. One makes sure to keep you distracted while the other promptly terrorizes your partner in ways no one will believe them if they tell

♡ This goes on for a while, and eventually, between their shared chaotic natures, it works and your partner breaks things off with you

♡ And guess who's there to support you as you mourn the loss of the relationship? Your two favorite men who definitely didn’t plan this at all

♡ Cue them both in a group hug with you but behind your back they exchange glances with one another and Alastor nods approvingly

♡ Even though he still doesn’t really like your kid and feels like he has to compete with him for your time, the kid’s earned his approval today

♡ And who knows? Maybe if your son cares almost as much (he could never beat your dad as far as how much he loves you) as him, maybe there will be more times in the future in which the two of them work together to ‘protect’ you

♡ Either way, your son is safe from the anger of his grandpa, at least for now, and vice versa

……….

One shot based on this

[snootlestheangel]

What if Soap had a cousin that's really close to his age: maybe the difference in age is as much as months apart, rather than years.

They were two peas in a pod, partners in crime growing up. They're cousins through Soap's mother's side of the family, so he doesn't have the MacTavish name, which sometimes Soap thinks is a good thing.

His cousin didn't join the military when Soap did, (partly due to the fact Soap cheated the system but that's neither here nor there) and a couple years went by before he decided to follow in Soap's footsteps and join. He's plenty smart and plenty capable, maybe not nearly as like Soap, but he's good enough that he progresses through pretty quick.

He's made Sergeant before either of them know it, and Soap is fucking proud. They're still close, and the shared experience of military life has definitely helped keep them that way in their adult lives. His cousin was the only one Soap confessed to about his feelings for Ghost. Granted it was more along the lines of a warning: "don't fall in love with your lieutenant, it'll only hurt."

Of course, that conversation happened a while ago, long enough ago that Soap and Ghost have indeed done something about their feelings for each other, but Soap and his cousin aren't ones to gossip about that sort of thing.

All his cousin knows is that Soap may or may not have something going on with his lieutenant, and quite frankly that's all he wants to know.

But here's the thing: his cousin doesn't know Soap is called Soap, and he doesn't know what taskforce he's a part of. He knows that Soap does some top shit, and he's not one to pry. Certainly not when he's got his own problems to worry about.

But he has heard of The Ghost. Everyone in the UK military has, for fucks sake. You can't be a soldier in that military without hearing about The Ghost and his almost supernatural abilities. You can't avoid hearing the higher ups mutter under their breaths "thank God he's on our side". It's considered one of the greatest honors a soldier can receive to work alongside The Ghost.

And that's how he ended up here. Standing in front of his new team, the two sergeants, his captain and lieutenant, suddenly feeling very murderous.

There are 2 options as to why he wants to commit murder:

1. Prior to coming to the Taskforce, he had a bit of leave and spent a few days with his cousin, John MacTavish. He asks him how things with "that lieutenant" are going, to which John says with a cheeky grin "Aye they're going". He then laughs a bit before adding "guess you could say he's my boo".

Of course his cousin is very confused: "boo?"

"Ya know, like a ghost"

"Like a ghost? GHOST?! YOU'RE FUCKING THE GHOST?!?!"

Its quickly revealed the taskforce his cousin has been assigned to is actually Soap's, to which the cousin refuses to believe Soap isn't just trying to mess with him. So he says "I'm kicking your ass if you're right"

2. There's never a chance for the two of them to talk about those sorts of things prior to his cousin joining the team. But he still knows that there's something going on between Soap and the lieutenant, so he's quickly putting together the pieces and getting very angry

Either way, the introductions end with his cousin politely asking if they would excuse him for just a minute. Price, albeit very confused, agrees. He doesn't expect the new sergeant to toss his duffle bag at Soap's face only for them to start wrestling, Soap cackling like a madman the entire time as the other shouts "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" And Gaz is the only one to say out loud what they're all thinking

"Holy shit, there's two of them."

[breadbrobin]

skipping stones

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

summary: it’s been a rough day for you, and clarisse doesn’t know how to help, as much as she wants to try

warnings: none really, just fluff and a little sad slander oops, oh and maybe slightly ooc clarisse as always

word count: 783

(hiiii it’s been a minute. i wrote this after skipping stones at a river for like an hour while my friend sat around next to me and i wanted someone to support me in my skipping endeavours so here we are)

————————————————

clarisse could always find you skipping stones.

you weren’t good at it. hell, you were even bad at it. but that never stopped you.

you’d told her once that it kept you closer to your family, since you hadn’t been able to get back to them since coming to camp two years ago, and you missed them more than words could describe.

she wasn’t even sure how it happened; how you became her best friend at camp, and she became yours, despite your differences.

where she was hard, you were soft. where she was cruel, you were kind. and where she was cold, you were as warm as any fire she’d ever known. warmer, even.

she didn’t even know when those feelings had shifted—from indifference to care, from friendship to love—but it didn’t really matter. what did matter was she could always find you skipping stones. and that’s exactly where you were.

she sat next to you on the shore, staring out at the long island sound ahead of her. you were looking down at the rocks, no doubt searching for your next ones to skip. your knees were bent and pulled to your chest with your arm under your thighs to lean forward. she couldn’t help but smile. if anyone saw she’d be made fun of, but with you, she didn’t care too much. she picked up a flat stone by her foot and nudged you.

you looked up at her with a smile, taking the stone and preparing to skip it. “thanks.” this one skipped maybe three times. she wasn’t really paying attention. her eyes were on your face, mapping your features, the light freckles, the crease between your eyebrows as you searched for another stone. she was watching your hands as you weighed two up before choosing one. she was staring at your lips, seeing them pout, press together, curl into a slight smile as the stone skipped.

“what’s wrong?” she asked.

“do you wanna try?” you extended a flat stone to her, about half the size of her palm. she was tempted to take it and put it in her pocket.

but she shook her head. “i’ve never had enough patience to learn to skip stones. you know that.”

“i do,” you nodded, your lips pressed together again. gods, what she wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressed against hers. “worth a shot.”

you skipped it, pouting as it crashed through a small wave and disappeared into the sea.

“what’s wrong?” clarisse asked again. “you can’t avoid the question forever, n/n.”

“yes, i can,” you said, skipping another rock.

“no. i won’t let you. what is it? did someone mess with you? i’ll kill them—“

you cut her off by laughing. “no, clarisse! no one messed with me, and please don’t commit any crimes in my name.”

“yours is the only name i’d ever commit crimes in,” she said firmly. you believed her. “now, tell me what’s wrong.”

you sighed and looked out at the grey horizon. it wasn’t a beautiful day, but it was warm for early spring and it hadn’t rained yet. “my dad called camp. he wants me to come home.”

“i thought your dad didn’t know where you were.”

“so did i.”

it was silent.

“so, what? he sent you away? that’s bullshit!”

“yeah,” you didn’t drag your eyes from the horizon. your knuckles were tight around a stone in your grip. “it is.”

her red-hot anger died in her throat as she saw your face and the blatant hurt on it. she wasn’t good at comforting people. she was actually really bad. it was easy to comfort clarisse: just let her yell about it and punch things until she feels better. but you… she’d seen you upset before, but never defeated. you looked defeated.

she was stumped.

“do you… do you need, like, a hug?” she offered awkwardly.

a snort escaped your lips. “a hug?”

“yeah! i mean… what do you need? how can i help you?” she asked, trying to save face.

you paused, turning your gaze to look at her face. “a hug would be nice, yeah.”

she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around you. she was worried it’d be awkward, that you’d both be tense and uncomfortable and it would be terrible, but you settled into her arms like you were made to be there. and god you were warm. it was like hugging someone who’d just gotten out of the drier.

“and if this doesn’t help we can throw rocks in the sea and yell about how angry we are,” she suggested after a moment. “that always helps me.”

she took your laughter as a good sign.

[who-let-me-out]

Suddenly got very into House of the Dragon and now I have an idea to share.

Platonic Yandere targaryens with Aegon.

Viserys and alicent become obsessed with him when he was born. He has dozens of knights to protect him, never alone unless with his family. He’s so precious he must be protected. He can do no wrong.

Viserys wants to move him into a tower so he is safe from everyone and everything that could hurt him. Still brings it up, trying to convince Aegon that the tower would be so good and fun for him! His own space (locked away, only for his families eyes. No one else can see him, they could hurt his precious boy.) Aegon is often called to his fathers side, enjoying the loving attention and affection from his father.

Rhaenyra is very protective of her baby brother. Considers taking him to Dragonstone many times. Precious baby boy loves his big sister too. Always excited to see her. She rubs it in alicents face that Aegon gets more excited to see her then his own mother.

Uncle Daemon will commit several war crimes for this small boy. Makes sure to rest every single one of his guards to ensure he is safe. The safest boy.

Grandsire Otto will use every connection he has to keep the boy safe and secluded. No one outside the castle will see him, anyone who could be a threat is arrested and put to death for crimes against the crown.

Helaena and Aemond keep him company as they grow older. They are selfish and want to keep him to themselves, not even they’re parents can see him if they are there. Aemond trains to ensure he can protect his big brother, he’s so fragile. He and Vhagar can protect him, who would go against the largest Dragon in the world. He claimed Vhagar and lost an eye to protect him. He remembers his dear sweet brother crying for him, for his injuries. Helaena will keep watch through her dreams. Though criptic they can help her keep her brother safe with them. Only with them. No one else. They can’t touch him!

His nephews follow they’re mother. So protective. He can do no wrong. They try to convince Aegon to go with them to Dragonstone, they can protect him there. They have more dragons there, they will make sure no one can hurt him.

Baela and Rheana follow too. They were taught from a very young age to watch over they’re cousin, he is fragile and to be protected. He needs them. They will run to Daemon for the slightest thing regarding his safety. He was found in the gardens with only 12 guards? They will get Daemon to punish them for slacking off on they’re duty. One of his servants looked at him for 0.2 seconds longer then they should? Clearly they are stalkers and seek to harm the Prince! They should be punished

Even Sunfyre is obsessed with him. However unlike the humans of the family, Aegon will go willingly where every the dragon flies. Aegon can be seen sneaking away to the dragon pit to fly with his beloved dragon. They’ve lost many men because the fools tried to seperate the dragon from his rider. If he could, sunfyre would follow him around the castle.

Suprise twist is that Aegon remembers being king. He remembers the dance of the dragons. He remembers dying. He woke up in this strange world where his whole family is begging for his attention and will kill in his name. Viserys tried to name him Heir to the throne but Aegon refused, it is Rhaenyras birthright and he would not take that from her.