#is that he's going to fly into an absolute rage and fight them so he can do it his way

[bluegarners]

ik i can rag on bruce a bit here and there, but i sincerely believe him to be a good man trying his best to be a good parent and it's a little frustrating when people exaggerate his and his kids' reaction to things they do/argue about. it's a trend i notice in fanon/fanfiction and canon comics, and it breaks my heart a little bit that there seems to only be those two extremes these days: one big happy family where everything and everyone is forgiven forever, or everyone hates each other and argues over the littlest things and no one is ever forgiven for anything. i know it can be difficult to balance dichotomy and figure out good ways to write/show the nuances of a family like the batclan, but i just feel like people often forget that at all of their cores, each of them are good people trying to do good things in a shitty world. they want to help others, they want to help each other, they are all trying to do the right thing, and what makes them argue sometimes is that they all have different views and morals on how to go about. at the end of the day, they have the same goal but not the same plan, and, to me, that's what makes them fight/be gruff with one another. they don't necessarily hate each other or hold some weird grudge because they just don't like the person or whatever; they are complex individuals and characters that have certain mindsets that overlap but also contrast with others

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam x reader who's scared of them

BRUCE

If you don’t know he’s batman, he’s absolutely confused. He doesn’t really understand how you could be terrified of his civilian identity, who is notably soft and ditzy. It’s hard for you to explain how scary it is, looking at his smiling face in the middle of a gala and feeling this ice running down your spine, the deepest, basest part of you just screaming at you that there’s something wrong with him. It’s the way his emotions don’t reach his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes… It feels to you that he’s, at any given time, calculating how likely he is to get away with you murder.

That isn’t what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how angry he is that everyone’s not treating you with the respect you deserve; he’s seen more consideration given to a coatrack! He’s contemplating yelling at your parent(s) to get them to realize how uncomfortable you are. That paternal sense just jumps right out and he’s wishing violence on anyone who would dare to so much as breathe at you wrong. You can see the promise of violence brewing on his face, you just mistake who it’s targeted at. He promises he would never hurt you.

Being frightened of batman is a lot more understandable, he is quite creepy. He tends to blend in with the shadows, and having a vigilante running around beating people senseless can be pretty terrifying. If he catches you being robbed, for example, Dick’s going to have to pull him off of whoever hurt you before he sends them into a coma. Seeing all that blood flying is definitely pretty scary.

However, Batman also serves as a protector for the city, especially children, and he does view you as a child, no matter your age. You’re his child, and he’d never want to scare you, so he exaggerates his movements and puts a bit of noise in his step so he’s less likely to scare you

He also gets Damian to approach you; while Damian may not be the typical child, he’s more than capable of acting young and vulnerable and that brings down your guard, allowing Bruce to ingratiate himself with you. Damian’s just excited to be close to you, he doesn’t even care you’re babying him and giving him stickers. He wears them with pride and shows every one to Alfred and his various animals.

DICK

Everyone is so confused as to how you could find Dick, smiley, jokey Dick, so scary. He’s so kind and gentle, perfect with children… maybe it’s the way you can see right through that facade into the intelligent seething rage boiling away within him. People often forget that Dick, as a young child, was more than willing to commit murder. He’s grown a lot since then, but sometimes that rage peaks through, terrifying you. You can also tell the bruises aren’t from sex or gymnastics like he says when the paparazzi ask, but from fights. You haven’t heard anything about the people he got into a fight in, which leads you to believe they never got up again. You’re wrong, but you can definitely feel the violence pulsing just underneath his skin. Every vigilante has it, you’re just able to sense it.

As Nightwing, he’s used to people asking him for selfies or yelling at him to do a backflip. He isn’t used to people trembling, terrified, in a corner as he approaches. You seem to view him as a dangerous vigilante, an extension of the Bat, first and foremost. Dick has to work hard to get you to trust him; he purposefully messes up some of his fights just so you think he isn’t as dangerous as he is, and he doesn’t let you in on the fact that the escrima have electricity. It puts you at ease if you think he would have a hard time taking you down. He relies on that goofy aspect of himself, pulling it up more than he normally would, almost tapping into that little circus performer who he buried deep down so many years ago.

JASON

Yeah, he gets it. His reputation, while useful, does preceed him. He’s heard the rumours; that he’s a zombie, a vampire, a ghoul, some creature back from the dead to kickstart some apocalyptic event. He usually finds it laughable, but seeing how terrifying you are does hit him hard.

He’s done so much to bury who he used to be, but for you, he taps into that side of him. He reads Jane Austen in public, volunteers at homeless shelters that he normally only donates to, anything to give himself a softer image. He even lets his hair keep its natural curls, letting them grow out slightly, to give him a softer silhouette. He also starts dressing more like Bruce; soft sweaters tucked into his pants, accentuating the pretty streak of white in his hair.

He’s also more than aware of how scary his scars can be, and tries his best to distract you away from them; for a little while, you rarely see him fully face-on, he turns his head just slightly so you can’t see them as clearly.

The Red Hood is terrifying. He’s aware, he knows, he’s dealing with it for you. He stops with the killing almost entirely and spends more time just patrolling your neighborhood, trying to get you used to the positives his presence is associated with. He lets Clark finally publish those positive stories about him saving a kitten or something, all to rehabilitate his image. He doesn’t care that his reputation is taking a hit, he only cares about you not being terrified of him.

TIM

???

Tim isn’t used to people being scared of him. Plenty of people are intimidated by his ruthless businessman act, but he never uses that around you. He tends to play up that scrawny, dorky nerd side of him; most view him like a little vulnerable puppy, not a threat!

You can probably sense that analytical presence behind his eyes. Tim, while technically being the most hands-off, is also the one who does the most meddling behind the scenes. He’s working to get rid of those shitty friends, blackmailing them away from you, and making sure to surround you with people he trusts, particularly Cass, Kon, and Steph. They talk him up, but more importantly, he knows they’ll keep you safe if he can’t.

You can probably tell your new friends are hiding something, and you sense that Tim is at the center. You’re not entirely wrong. Like Jason, he dresses in soft, cozy clothing and spends hours practicing his soft, gentle smiles, all in the hopes of you thinking him too weak and exhausted to be a threat.

He’s had criminals dislike him as Red Robin, but most civilians either appreciate him or ignore him. Most opinions are actually quite lukewarm, as while he does play a role in policing crime, he works more in the background solving cases and using his computer and photography skills. He makes sure to be seen being soft to children and animals more, maybe even volunteers in suit at an animal shelter, all in the hopes you’ll see that caring heart shining through.

CASS

Cass is so soft in public no one could ever be scared of that side of her unless they’ve already been kidnapped, in which case she slowly wears them down by having her family talk her up and by being the one to bring in gifts and food, creating a strong association between her and those good feelings of stress relief. Works like a charm, especially because you learn to read her; then, you learn to read the softness in her smile and her posture, showing that kind heart.

in stark contrast, plenty of people are scared of Black Bat, including civilians. Her normal silent presence and lack of facial expression can come across quite creepy. There’s no way around that, so she only introduces you to her secret identity after you’ve been kidnapped.

[quietstormxr]

You'll Survive

Garrick Tavis x Reader

Angst/Violence

Again breaking my heart here, just Garrick this time, as requested.

Summary: Garrick leaves for War Games and you are determined to forget him.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/n: Mentions of Tourture/some swearing, some Iron Flames spoilers

Should we have our angry bad ass girl give Garrick an ass kicking in a part 2?

The anger turned in to absolute despair. How could things have gotten so bad? The last words you exchanged with him were in anger and now you’d never be able to take them back. You’d never know if you really meant anything to him or not. At the same time, you couldn’t decide if you cared or not.

The anger that rotted in your core the entire time you were away was rooted farther than anything you’d ever felt before. He wouldn’t fight for you to join him, but there was Imogen, looking at you with a smug look on her face. You couldn’t help the way your face hardened, and a steely glare settled across your features.

You had seen the way she looked at him when you weren’t around and knew there had to be something there. Whether or not he still felt something, you were unsure. But the minute he turned his back to you and walked towards Imogen for War Games, you felt there was more there than he ever led on. 

You thought back to the last words that you exchanged and couldn’t help the regret that filled every part of your body. 

“So that’s it, huh?” You breathe as Garrick walks towards you. “You won’t even try to convince Xaden to take me?”

“You’re a first year, there’s no reason for you to be with the Wingleader’s headquarters squad.” He said back a calm determination on his face.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Especially given the fact that he’s taking two other first years.” You snapped back viciously. 

“You’re to go with the rest of your squad. You’ll survive without me for a few days.” He says nonchalantly.

After that statement, you couldn’t control the raging inferno that coated your veins and made a home in your stomach. Hot and corrosive, you couldn’t help the way you wanted to punch him straight in the face.

“I see.” You say as you look past Garrick at Imogen still smirking at you smugly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your trip with your girl, because it certainly isn’t me.” You spit as you turn sharply and mount your dragon. 

‘Let’s go Diomat.’ You demand as you refuse to look back down at the infuriating man before you.

‘With pleasure, Bold One.’ Diomat confirms and immediately lifts into the air, but not before issuing a warning growl to your Section Leader.

You refuse to look back and see what emotion Garrick could possibly have on his face. Was he even hurt at what you said or was he smirking that you would ever dare to think he’d want you?

You fly for Eltuval and let the cold wind try to cool the flames that seem to lick underneath your skin. You refuse to let that man be the reason you lose your focus. You let the anger simmer in the hours it takes for you to get to your outpost. 

As soon as you feel Diomat begin her descent, you take a deep breath closing your eyes and try to let the anger filter out of your body. You walk forward to the outpost and listen to the directions of your squad leader and senior leadership. 

Everything seemed to be going according to leaderships plan, until you find yourself slightly farther from the outpost than you anticipated. You’re unsure why, but you were sent to the northwestern most part of region your squad was to be patrolling. You hear a roar that sounds like a dragon and you turn in your seat and look, only to see what appears to be a grey dragon. 

You furrow your brow in confusion as you notice it only has two legs and then watch as it spits blue fire. 

‘Diomat, is there another dragon breed we aren’t taught about?’ You ask with fear starting to lace your mental voice.

‘That is no dragon.’ Diomat replies fiercely.

‘Well, are you going to tell me what it is if it isn’t a dragon?’

‘I believe your leadership may have forced us into a situation we weren’t expecting.’ Diomat snarls. ‘Those abominations are wyvern. I believe you know the stories about them and their creators.’

Your eyes widen and dart between your dragon and the grey wyvern that is flying into the neighboring Poromish town.

‘Wh-Wha-What?’ Even your thoughts begin to stammer as you try to puzzle the pieces together. ‘Why would they send us out here if they knew about this? What are we supposed to do Diomat?’

Your thoughs are a jumble and you can’t seem to process anything. Within the few seconds that were spent hovering in the air to examine the creature, it has now set its sights on you.

“SHIT!” You say as the large grey mass starts barreling towards you at untenable speeds. 

‘Hold on.’ Diomat commands as she begins climbing above the cover of the trees.

‘Is there a way to kill this thing?’ You question in a panic, hoping beyond hope that there’s a solution to this.

‘Do you still have the dagger the Section Leader gave to you?’

You furrow your brows while you pull the runed dagger from the sheath at your calf. You pull it out and your eyes blow wide. Where there was just a normal dagger before, now the hilt is glowing a soft blue color and you can feel the magic thrum through your fingers. 

‘This can kill them?’ 

‘Yes, do you remember what venin look like? Can you transform into what you remember from the descriptions of your book? If so, you may be able to drop down and kill it.’ Diomat explains as we continue to dip, dive, and weave through heavy tree coverage.

‘You want me to get on the back of the wyvern?!?’ You ask incredulously at the plan your dragon has just drawn in your mind.

‘Yes, because you are more than capable of doing this. You are a powerful rider. My rider. And I know that you can do this.’ Diomat says with a tone of absolute conviction.

If only your mind was as certain in your abilities as Diomat’s mind is. 

‘You will need to aim for the chest that should be the weakest part.’ Diomat confirms before you notice her slowing down. 

You turn your head and watch as blue flames continue to blow directly behind your dragon gaining on you second by second. Diomat begins to dip down even further while you begin to float through the memories of the stories of the venin. 

You remember the billowing robes, the red veins, the color of their eyes reflecting their bloodlust for power and finally the veins that mar their tarnished skin. You settle on a full picture in the art gallery in your mind and take a deep breath reaching for Diomat’s power. When you look down at yourself next, your clothes are no longer riding leathers, but a purple robe that looks tattered and moth eaten. You continue to look down at your hands and can’t help the panic that flares to life in your chest when you see the red veins coating every inch of your fingers. 

‘You are still you, Bold One. I would not let you tarnish yourself.’ Diomat consoles as you feel pride radiating from your bond.

‘Okay, Diomat. Let’s take down this thing.’ You think back closing away all the insecurities plaguing your mind. 

Soon enough Diomat is slowing down but lifting you both to the clouds. As you burst through the tree line, you watch as the wyvern continues flying towards where it thought you still were. Slowly you begin to descend and rise from the seat of your dragon and walk towards her front left leg. 

‘This is why I have not been going easy on you, Bold One. I will not leave my rider unprepared, even if the Section Leader wanted to keep this from you.’

As Diomat begins to descend, you look up to the sky and pray to Zinhal that this plan will work. After that one thought, you close your eyes for just a second and let yourself free fall. 

You land with a smack onto a rough grey surface, and you lock every muscle in your body tight. 

Is this why Garrick was always disappearing for hours on end?

You shake your head trying to waft off any other thoughts of the Section Leader when you are trying to kill the beast below you. You cautiously make your way up to the neck scales, until you look up and realize, those aren’t scales, they are feather razors.

You crouch down next to the neck and plunge the dagger you have down as hard as you possibly can. Not expecting the bounce back, you end up being bucked against the razor mane on the neck of the wyvern as the beast bucks and writhes trying to dislodge your dagger. 

You pull yourself forward and wrap both hands around the blade and jump in front of its wing. 

‘Catch me Diomat.’ You think as you feel yourself falling while your dagger peels through the rough skin of the wyvern. 

Your dagger finally breaks free, and you are free falling towards the line of trees.

‘DIOMAT!’

‘Coming, Bold One!’ You hear Diomat’s voice break causing you to let fear take over as you fall faster and faster. 

Your pull on your power lessens and you watch as the robes become your leathers again. You try to bring your leg up and sheath the dagger back at your calf. The next thing you feel is your head hitting branches and your vision swims momentarily. You feel your emotions tugging at you that this is the end, and you will meet Malek today.

‘No, you are destined for great things, Y/N. You will not die today.’ Diomat says authoritatively. 

As if on command at that statement, you finally feel yourself crash into bumpy scales. It takes all the effort you can muster to grab for Diomat’s pommel to stop your own acceleration. You can feel your arms protesting the amount of strength it’s taking to say on while your back screams from the lashes of the wyverns razored feathers. 

Diomat continues to try and stop both your acceleration and keep pace back towards the outpost. You grunt in response to the effort and try to pull yourself back into the seat. Everything in your body is telling you to give in to the sweet call of sleep, but you know you need to wait until you get back to the outpost. 

As you fly closer to Eltuval, you can’t help but feel like something is wrong. You look around at the field where your squad’s dragons had been landing the last four days and see them all gone. 

‘Where did the squad go?’

‘Nokass just confirmed that all Basgiath squads have headed back to the Citadel.’

At that you perk up and your body goes rigid. Did they set you up and leave you to die? Didn’t anyone else see what had happened?

‘Did Nokass give us any orders?’

‘We are to land and debrief with the cadre here. Besides Bold One, you need to have your wounds tended to.’ Diomat says with a hint of trepidation in her voice.

‘Should I tell them about the wyvern?’

‘No. Tell them you fell off when we were accelerating while practicing flight maneuvers.’

You send your understanding back through the bond and dismount Diomat. You don’t make it far before you are escorted by two lieutenants that met you at the flight field. You enter the infirmary there and lay down. 

Soon enough your wounds are tended to, and the mender confirms you need to rest. You fall into a fitful sleep that focuses on wyvern, venin, and a certain dark-haired Section Leader that seems to have been keeping more from you than you ever realized. 

You wake in a sweat and look around confused before realizing where you are. It’s another two days before you are given clearance to leave, which luckily the senior cadre of the outpost seemed to have bought the story that Diomat told you to spin. 

You are given orders to return to Basgiath and a note confirming the reason for your absence. 

Hours later, you are flying on Diomat with the wind battering your new scars and broken thoughts. How much had he been hiding from you this entire time? What did he really know? Were you just a little plaything for him?

As you watch the sun rise, you set your jaw and take a deep breath. You know at this point there is no need in worrying. Graduation is done, and he has most likely been sent to his outpost. You try to let yourself settle at the realization that you’ll never see him again.

When you land in the flight field, you are surprised to see a green dragon seemingly just returning from a flight with their rider. You look over and realize who it is. 

Bodhi. 

As you draw closer with Diomat, you watch as he turns his head and looks back before whipping it back around with wide surprised eyes. 

‘Apparently there was miscommunication. Your squad and the Section Leader were told your name was reported for the death rolls.’ Diomat relays with irritation.

Your eyebrows fly up and eyes widen in surprise. Did none of Basgiath cadre know that you’d been in the infirmary at Eltuval? Why would you have been reported for the death rolls before confirmation would’ve been sent from the outpost? 

You clutch harder to the orders that you were given as you dismount. You trip forward slightly as your blood rushes back into your legs, your body protesting every movement as everything is still tight from your body needing additional recovery.  You slowly stand to your feet and as you look up you are met by surprised brown eyes.

“Wha – How?” You watch as Bodhi sputters. “We were told you were dead. Your name was to be read on the death rolls tomorrow.”

You look at him with a dead panned expression and say in a flat voice. “Well obviously someone got their information wrong.”

You go to turn and walk away, ready to dispel the myths about your apparent demise before you feel Bodhi’s hand on your elbow.

“You need to write to Garrick. He’s an absolute mess.” He says and you can see the sorrow reflected in his gaze for his brother.

“I don’t need to do anything.” You say back coldly, the lies and the way he didn’t fight for you taking forefront in your mind. 

“And you won’t be telling him either.” You warn. “He made his choices. Those things don’t change just because I happen to be alive.”

You watch as a grimace crosses Bodhi’s face clearly remembering the way that you departed for War Games. 

“Besides,” you whisper as you step into Bodhi’s space bringing your mouth to his ear. “I was too busy fighting off and killing a wyvern to worry about writing.”

You relish the way Bodhi’s eyes flash with realization that not only did Garrick leave you behind, but you also now know what he was trying to keep hidden. 

“How about this.” You pull back and add with a challenging tone. “How about you and the rest of your marked friends keep my secret and I’ll keep yours? Hmm.”

You watch as Bodhi seems to weigh his options before nodding in defeat, his head falling forward. 

“Good. Pleasure doing business with you Durran.” You purr venomously. 

You fully turn now and walk purposefully towards the Commandant’s office looking to clear yourself. You will not let Garrick’s feelings over your supposed death completely erase the way he left you behind and apparently never trusted you in the first place.

As you stride through the halls of the Rider’s Quadrant, you begin to relish the looks of shock from everyone around you. You briefly wonder if you’re the only person who was seemingly resurrected after War Games, but the thought is fleeting when you feel a body run straight into you, tearing the breath out of you.

“Gods. How are you alive? Where have you been?” You look up to realize that you’ve been engulfed in a hug by your best friend and squad mate and crack the first smile you’ve had in days.

“Let’s just say the front gave Diomat and I some personal surprises on our patrol. Ones that landed me in Eltuval’s Infirmary for two days after you all left.” You say while trying to evade the full answer to the question. 

“I knew it wouldn’t be that easy to kill you.” His answer causes a laugh to bubble out of you involuntarily.

“Come on, I have to go deliver this to Pancheck before everyone really thinks I’m dead.” You pull him along and head towards the Commandant’s headquarters.

Weeks pass and you get back to normal or whatever can possibly pass as your new normal. You can’t help the way you notice those that were in Resson are being targeted for what you assume is the same knowledge you now have. However, for whatever reason the cadre seems to have bought your story, at least for now. 

You’ve also been avoiding the dirty looks Imogen gives you any time you happen to be in the same room. Why the hell can’t she just leave you alone? She got what she wanted, so you can’t understand what her issue is. Though luckily for you, your deal with Bodhi makes sure you don’t have to worry about her little obsession worrying over you. 

You’ve avoided Violet like the absolute plague ever since returning and was lucky enough to be shuffled into a squad with no marked ones after the disaster that was parapet. 

You’ve heard people talking about Riorson coming back to Basgiath, but you’ve so far been lucky to avoid him. Until one day in the rotunda you’re walking to your next class and you’re unfortunate enough to see him standing not far away talking to Bodhi. 

You watch as he looks up and directly at you and then whip his heads around again towards you before blinking several times and rubbing his eyes. Fortunately for you, practicing with your signet has you ready for this unfortunate meeting. As soon as you see him, you immediately change your hair and eye color, along with angling out your features more. 

You look towards your squad mate to your right and smirk as his features slacken slightly at your change in appearance.

“Stop gawking or Riorson is going to get suspicious.” You tell him lowly. 

He shakes his head and moves his eyes to back in front of you. You both continue to walk on your way to your next class and enter the door taking a seat.

“Since when can you do that?” He asks now looking at you with open fascination.

“Since about right before we left for War Games last year. Diomat and I practiced while everyone else was too busy getting drunk before the Reunification Day party. Just haven’t had the reason to show off my skills.” You recount. 

“I can change pretty much my entire appearance.” You relay as you begin to smirk again and completely transform yourself into looking like your friend in front of you.

“Well godsdamn. I look absolutely fabulous.” He quips. 

With that you break down and start laughing uncontrollably. With that loss of fine control, you morph back into your own form. You watch as suddenly his face turns serious.

“Have you really not written or heard from Tavis?” He asks a hint of trepidation at the topic hitting his voice.

“No.” You sigh before replying. “I convinced Durran that he had to keep the secret of my existence to himself and the rest of his marked friends here in exchange for a favor to them as well. So, my secret is safe with me, which is why I didn’t want Riorson to see me. He’s unaware of his cousin’s deal.”

Your friend shakes his head in comprehension and you both face forward as the professor comes into the class. 

Weeks continue to fly by in a whir of classes and idiotic RSC challenges. At this point, you don’t even know what the class is even worth. They aren’t truly giving anyone the whole story and battle brief continues to be a joke. 

You have started training with Diomat after classes hoping to get better at flight maneuvers so that you’re truly prepared for the upcoming war. It’s after a grueling training session with her that you are taken by surprise while walking back to your room. 

Before you can react to protect yourself, you feel something blunt slam into the back of your head and your vision swims before you fall to a heap on the ground. 

As you slowly wake up, you can’t seem to stop the incessant pounding in your head. Your head rolls back and forth as you try to shake off the haze. When your eyes open, you are met with a dirt ceiling that looks like it has been carved in the underground. 

You try to move your arms and feel the sharp bite of iron around your wrists and biceps. You sit up straight just to find yourself strapped to a wooden chair. You shake your head again and look around searching for your squad mates like you would normally find for the special torture that is RSC.

Unfortunately for you, there isn’t anyone else here. You hear footsteps from outside the door and draw in a quick breath stealing yourself for whatever horror is coming your way.

As the door opens you smell the sour stench of body odor and hair oil that permeates the air. As you take in the man before you confusion knits your brow. 

Why would Varrish be here? You hadn’t done anything to draw attention to yourself since returning from War Games. Did Bodhi or one of the marked ones sell you out?

You have little more time to think about what is happening before you feel a hand connect with your cheek. You let out a grunt as your head whips to the side and pain bursts across your mouth. 

“Seems fitting after all of your lies to be sitting in this chair, doesn’t it?” He croons as he slowly walks around the chair you are strapped to. 

“I don’t know what lies you speak of Vice Commandant.” You spit. The last thing you will do is break to this disgusting husk of a man. 

“Oh, I believe you do.” He sneers. “You and Sorrengail will be instrumental in getting Riorson and Tavis to spill everything they know.”

You can’t help the sarcastic huff that leaves you. The bitter taste of anger and betrayal still whirring inside you.

“You’ll find that you are wrong about Tavis.” You protest vehemently. “His affections lie elsewhere. You are wasting your time with me.”

A sickening sneer of a smile crosses Varrish’s face and you know that nothing you will say will change his mind.

“Oh, I’m aware he may think you’re dead. But that doesn’t mean when he arrives you won’t be bait for him.” He whispers as he leans in close where the stench of him is almost enough to make you sick. 

He then rears back, and head butts you in the face and you hear a sickening crunch before the blood starts pouring from your nose. You try to hold in your scream, but it’s no use. You know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants from you. 

“Just give me some information and you can have your connection to your dragon back and you can go back to class, no one the wiser.”

You lift your chin in defiance at the vile man in front of you and let the blood from your broken nose into your mouth before spitting it right in his face. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will not risk your dragon or anyone else’s life to save your own. 

It takes a few hours before you realize that this torture will be never ending. Immediately after you think he is finished; he calls in Nolon to mend your body multiple times a day.

“Is it really worth keeping their secrets?” Nolon asks a note of sympathy and regret in his eyes as he mends your broken collarbone. 

“I will give my life for anyone’s. Secrets or no.” You spit at the man you had once seen as a kind and gentle soul. 

Nolon shakes his head and continues his work as you try to push away the pain of mending and focus on anything else. 

It’s about the eighth time that Nolon has come in to mend you before you start to feel like giving up may be the only option. 

“Can’t you just let me die already?” You viciously call back to the man healing you just so you can be broken again. 

“I’m sorry cadet, but this can all stop when you answer the Vice Commandant’s questions.” 

You turn your head away from him, not wanting to give him any more attention and let your body slip into unconsciousness. 

What seems like eternities later, you hear commotion outside the door that you’ve been holed up in. As you fade in and out from pain, you hear voices but you’re unsure of who they belong to. A strong crack in the rocks of the cell makes you jolt conscious, but you’re still unsure of what’s going on. 

“Wait.” You hear a male voice call. “Vi wasn’t the only one down here.”

“What are you talking about Aetos?” You hear a gruff voice call back. Your foggy mind wants to say it’s Garrick, but you know that must be impossible.

The next thing you know, the lock of the door is clicking open, and you turn your head to see what your next form of torture will be. 

As you look up, you meet warm brown eyes that shine with concern. 

“I didn’t realize you gave a damn about anyone but Violet, Aetos.” You rasp back, your voice disjointed from the amount of screaming you’d done and the number of times you’d been almost choked to death. 

“Luckily for you I knew that they took someone besides just Violet.” He says rushing to the chair. “Do you think you’ll be able to stand?”

You try and shrug your shoulders, but everything in your body seems to weigh ten times the amount it normally does. Aetos continues to unhook the restraints around your body and soon enough is trying to help lift you. 

Your broken tibia screams in protest, but the action of moving on your own two feet is not something you’re willing to give up. As you slowly make your way out of the cell, you both turn and look up. Staring back at you are a pair of stunned hazel eyes.

You watch as Garrick’s eyes widen to the point of concern, and he falls to his knees seeming to not believe what he’s seeing. As you stare at him, you watch as tears begin to swim in his eyes. The anger and helplessness you’ve been feeling curls around you and you close your eyes in anguish.

“You were right.” You rasp slowly with a thoughtful pause. 

“I guess I did survive.” You say before your overwhelming feelings and pain draws you under.

[keets-writing-corner]

Love how Lucifer just manhandles Adam during their 'fight' despite everyone else getting their asses kicked. Plus him effortlessly destroying him when Charlie's in danger is really sweet.

gawd me too anon me too

that was everything me to me. like everything. It was built up so well too

we spent the whole season building up alastor as this massive powerhouse, eldritch, nobody messes with him. Only one who tried picking a fight with him (Vox) got utterly humiliated and everyone else was clearly outclassed. Except for Lucifer where Alastor merely just went with annoying instead of power challenging. Like we got vibes okay yeah makes sense that the King of Hell isn't intimidated by anyone, even if it's alastor, but Alastor got TWO wtf moments in Dad Beat Dad one with Husk and one with defending the hotel

other than that, it was pretty much, nobody messes with him cuz he will mess you up

and he fights Adam evenly sorta for a bit before Adam pulls out the "I'm an angel which is stronger than any demon" card and alastor gets his ass handed to him.

Like what a way to set up how strong ADAM is, having him beat Alastor. And then no one else in the hotel is as strong as Alastor was, so everyone's struggling. Charlie at least gets one good hit in but her inexperience kicks her in the ass and then Lucifer just shows up and

like hot DAMN that was just one hit! He broke Adam's mask, the force was enough to send him FLYING across the roof top, and bounce so hard against the billboard he BROKE THE SKYLIGHT

That was just a "HANDS OFF MY BABY" warning too, like LOOK at that face, that's not a "fight me" face it's a "if you touch my baby again, I will screw you so bad your bones will need therapy and you never recover"

Lucifer not even .2 seconds later, just upon seeing Charlie

and then yeah, Lucifer was NOT taking the fight with Adam serious at all, like the dude was taunting him, mocking him, dodging all of his attacks, just shapeshifting like Adam was a joke LIKE LOOK AT THIS

Lucifer isn't even scared, he's just "oh there's a wall there"

His FACE IM DYING he's legit like "wowwww you just tried shoving me into a wall? really? didn't have any other ideas? Soooooo original of you. I will mock you now"

HIS HANDS ARE BEHIND HIS BACK HE FOR REAL SAID HE COULD TAKE ADAM WITH BOTH HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK

rewatching rn for the screenshots, he's legit just shapeshifting for the fun of it. 70% of the time nothing has happened, he's just dodging adam and shapeshifting while doing it, like he doesn't need to be doing that this is 100% mockery.

And then the iconic

like omgggg this is soooo satisfying and amazing to watch. Like the set up of Adam being powerful was great, and then we just get this absolute trolling from Lucifer cuz he really doesn't care about Adam

And listen the trolling is great and all, but when Adam makes the mistake of not heeding Lucifer's warning of messing with his baby, and then does it a second time

RIP Adam just getting one shot-ed like that but hnnnnnggggg we got to see Lucifer fully pissed and it was GREAT

And somehow my favorite part wasn't even watching Lucifer go absolute ham on Adam, it was that even at his absolute most rage fueled moment, snarling like a beast where he was going to and fully intended on making good on his threat about messing with his baby

just one shoulder touch from Charlie and he's immediately chill. Like it's instantaneous, like how much do you love someone to be able to be absolutely livid, about to incinerate someone levels of rage only to immediately be "o oki! No more violence!" the second that person touches you???

Ugh I love them so much! Like everything about that fight, but especially how Lucifer can just go from absolutely the most dangerous person in one second and then OWO SOFT the next just by looking at Charlie

oops this post got long... IMSORRYYYYY other than "More than Anything" and the phonecall with charlie this is one of the scenes I replay the most, I love them so much

Characters going absolutely feral over loved ones is just aasdfadffalklkmafdjalsg 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

[patheticgirlsteve]

This is easily the most inconvenient moment possible for Eddie to have a hard-on and yet, here he is, standing in the remains of what used to be the Hawkins Public Library with his dick hard as a rock in his pants.

Eddie had heard tell of a nailbat, rumors of Steve Harrington’s weapon of choice in dealing with matters related to the Upside Down, but it had seemed mythical to him. The way the boys talked about Steve wielding it made him sound like a hero from some ancient mythology.

“You should have seen him, Eddie,” Dustin would grip Eddie’s arm with a grasp that hurt as he regaled Eddie with the tale of Steve in the Junkyard Fighting the Demodogs once more. “He was such a badass, like, so insanely cool!”

Eddie is deeply glad that he was not present at that battle, but there is a part of him that wishes he could have seen it. That he could have seen Steve wield the suburban equivalent of a mace while trying to defend his brood of strange children.

Not that Eddie would ever admit that, of course. He and Steve are tentative friends, and Eddie is not going to risk what progress he and Steve have made in maintaining a civil relationship just because he thinks the guy is hot. Of course he thinks Steve is hot, so does every other breathing human in Hawkins, Indiana.

So, yeah, Eddie is keeping that piece of information to himself. Taking it to his grave. Besides, they’re in the middle of an apocalypse and now is hardly the time for getting horny over Steve Harrington proving competence with a blunt instrument.

But apparently Eddie’s dick never got that memo. Because he’s standing here watching Steve knock those goddamn fucking demobats out of the spore infested Hawkins sky with his infamous bat, dripping with blood and snarling at the monsters. He swings with a terrifying rage in his eyes, laser focused on removing each and every single bat from the sky with a sort of feral grace that shouldn’t be possible.

Eddie watches, pants uncomfortably tight, as Steve makes one final swing at the last bat standing (flying?) with a flourish of his wrist, giving the nailbat a little twirl before using it to strike the last creature down.

Steve Harrington is absolutely unreal.

He turns around to face Eddie and Eddie is reminded that, oh yeah, they’re in the middle of a massive battle right now and he had maybe let himself get a little distracted and wow, the blood dripping through Steve’s chest hair as he tosses the nailbat onto his shoulder with practiceed ease is really doing it for Eddie, which would be fine (well, not fine, but at least somewhat manageable) if it were literally any other moment in time.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks Eddie, voice hoarse and raspy in a way that really shouldn’t be sexy because it’s probably caused by Steve breathing spores and demobat guts or something else equally horrifying, but it is hot and there is something deeply wrong with Eddie.

And maybe there is some single solitary shred of mercy left remaining in the universe, because Steve is seemingly too focused on the war waging around them to clock the bulge in Eddie’s pants.

“Yup!” Eddie nods, feeling like a bobble head in his enthusiasm. “Great! Feeling great! Never better!”

Steve gives him an odd look, considering, but seems to accept Eddie’s assertion that he’s unharmed. He probably just attributes the strange behavior to Eddie’s general weirdness, which is perfectly fine with Eddie.

“Good,” Steve’s eyes drift to the steadily growing dark cloud that obscures much of the red sky. “Let’s get moving then.”

He stomps past Eddie, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes. Eddie closes his eyes and scrapes the corners of his mind for the least sexy thoughts he can summon to will his boner away.

“You coming?” Steve calls back from a few yards behind Eddie.

“Right behind you, big boy,” Eddie says. He takes a deep breath in and out before turning to follow Steve back into the fray.

[baberoe-archive]

top 10 insane bucky moments?

god where do i start.

perhaps basic of me but getting drunk and then saying he's fine then asking curt to punch him in the face and then howling. perhaps number one bucky moment for me. just absolutely falling apart. i hear that brother. do you ever think about how eps 1-3 he never really lets buck see this side of him. and its only when curt dies that buck is privy to it. yeah i dont think about that either

"maaaaaarge...." is to me far more insane than scissoring in the yard. like at least when he's provoking fights it can be written off as restlessness, but mocking your best friend for taking comfort in his sweetheart's letter with the most sickeningly jealous expression in the world AND right in front of everyone's salad.......... this man is a medieval peasant self-flagellating in the street.

trading his sheepskin that buck hated to go on his first mission after buck went down. he didn't even think about it he just saw jack and ran over and did it. and then when brady asked him about it. he just straight up said "buck always hated that jacket" bitch WHAT

provoking col harding for no reason unprovoked. in front of the men!!! his self destructive tendencies and distaste for authority compel me

also when he starts yelling at that nazi guard on the march. that's such a good moment i get the impression that most of what bucky does is (to some extent) calculated like he knows hes being a dick he knows he flying too close to the sun and thats what he wants yknow he wants to egg people on but this moment he just completely lets go thats the pure thoughtless rage thats been simmering the whole series. god.

offscreen moment (forgive me) but not letting them send bucks footlocker back to the states. and then the 100th kept it for a full year like what did he say??? how desperate was he that no one could bring themselves to move bucks footlocker after a year???

stalag baseball scene. when you put on your off-putting and hard to be around-sona because you feel yourself to be so abandoned and abused that any semblance of gentleness would make you bare your teeth and bite. when you want to bite. when you dont want to bite.

willingly got a dart thrown at his face so he could give his boy best friend a bike so they could bike around together. ohhh my god bitch. down so bad its pathetic

whatever the hell he did to get on the regensberg mission and also the regensberg mission in general. pushing one of the gunners out of the way cause they were going for buck. "reserve command pilot" or whatever. i know what you are.

i dont remember the scene exactly but before the mission when they are getting their gear and hes like "call me sir" and crank goes "none of the people we're bombing today shot down buck" and then he just goes. absolutely silent. nothing to say to that. outline in the shape of a person moment.

[kitweewoos]

oh my god they were teammates

Buck didn’t know what the hell was up with the Fury that night, but if he took one more elbow to the throat, he was about to throw off his gloves and start a brawl in the middle of the ice regardless of how many penalties were held against him. He didn’t want to get another power play against them though, so he kept his gloves on and his stick down and he played as clean as he could. When he was tripped by the Fury defensemen without a ref whistle, again, and bit his tongue hard enough that he tasted blood, he wanted to rage. 

“Calm down,” Eddie Diaz, his best friend on and off the ice, said as he pushed himself up and growled under his breath. “Don’t let them get in your head.” 

“Too late,” he admitted. 

“Shake it off, Buck,” Eddie called as Buck skated away from him towards the puck still in motion. There was a reason Maddie had pointed all of his extra energy growing up towards skating and hockey, and he was good at it, because for the longest time all of the extra energy meant that he was ready to fight the first person who looked at him wrong, or throw himself into the worst situations. Once he’d gotten into hockey, there wasn’t anything else that fit him better, and he’d worked so hard to get to the NHL.  

Of course, flying off the handle and cracking your opponent in the face repeatedly with your stick would get you, probably, kicked out of the NHL so he should calm down, but he just wanted to bowl them the length of the ice by their face plates instead.  

The Fury sent the puck flying back towards the Firefly goal to get it away from their own, but it went wide thankfully, and Buck breezed back towards it to retrieve it. He was easily one of the quickest of the ice, so he rarely stayed in one spot long, and he liked dropping back by the goal just for a second. 

“Hey,” he heard from their goaltender, and he looked up to catch Tommy Kinard’s eyes through the grating on Tommy’s helmet. Tommy, who he’d share a room with that night, who he shared a life with, who he loved and admired, and he smiled. Tommy looked so good in his pads, even though the incredible body that he worked for was swallowed up, and Buck loved to look at him. Tommy was the first man he’d found this kind of peace with, the first person in the world who had ever caught Buck’s attention and held it so well that the rest of the world just stopped mattering. ��Evan, you good?” 

“They’re pissing me off,” he admitted as he circled behind the goal to take the puck and face the rest of the ice for a moment. He took in the scene in front of him to assess the situation, and figure out where to shoot the puck, who would be the best to get it into position and found Ravi sliding unnoticed by two of their d-men. 

“Baby,” Tommy called just off to his left, and he looked up. “Kick their ass.” 

That was all he needed to feel the resolve settle in his chest. They may trail by two near the end of the second period, with the Fury playing dirty, but Evan “Buck” Buckley had his boyfriend to impress, and he absolutely was going to show off.  

[satansamwriting]

Mk characters reacting to their GN s/o wearing their hats

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Characters : Erron Black, Kung Lao, Raiden

I wrote this because whenever I play MK, I would always wonder what it would be like to wear the hats of those boys.

Mostly because of Kung Lao since I absolutely adore seeing him fight with his hat. It's so funny and cool and I really wanna try it.

Hopefully you'll enjoy those silly little Headcanons. I had a blast writing them. Oh and if you want, tell me in the comment which hat would you be tempted to try/steal the most out of the three? I'm curious :)

Also I discovered while writing those that I had a thing for throwing hats in the air. Don't know why, I just think it looks cool xD.

As usual disclaimer: English ain't my native language so there might be mistakes in this. I'm trying my best to correct them as I see them.

TW : mention of death, blood and decapitation in Erron story

Please enjoy 😊

Erron Black

Something that was established during the early days of your relationship was that Erron loves his hat.

No one is allowed to touch, wear or even go near his hat.

Will rarely take it off.

Would shoot anyone who dares take the hat.

Would take immense care of it.

You wondered what it would feel like to wear it but feared the wraith of your partner.

However, the hat is free real estate if you find it on the ground during battle and the cowboy is too far away from it and distracted.

Then you wouldn’t hesitate to put it on.

You would feel pretty badass with it.

Now entering shitty cowboy jokes mode

You'd try your best and fail miserably to do a cowboy accent. 

Erron would never admit it but it would become his favourite thing, seeing you with his hat. 

0o0o0o

Screams of agony and rage echoed around the arena. An uprising caused by some rebels not happy with Kotal Kahn being in power was taking place. The Kahn, having safely left the vicinity, entrusted his most brave and fearsome soldiers to fend off the remaining troublemakers. Aka, (Y/n) and Erron, accompanied by a small group of Outworld soldiers, stayed behind to clean the arena. The fight had proven to be somewhat more difficult then they had previously anticipated. Somewhere during the battle, someone managed to knock Erron's hat off. He wasn't bothered by it at the time as he was more focused on winning the kombat and staying alive. However, once his enemy was defeated, he quickly noticed the missing item.

Erron, slightly annoyed by this, scanned the arena but couldn’t find his hat. Not until his eyes landed on his partner.

They were further away from him, fighting against their own opponent. The dust flying around made it hard to see clearly but he knew from the shape of it that, resting on their head, was his hat.

To say that Erron found the sight of them punching a man while wearing the item incredibly hot, was an understatement.

As the rebellion died down, Erron allowed himself to be distracted by their fight. He watched from the sideline as (Y/n) grabbed the hat and threw it above them.

The action drew the attention of the man they were fighting against upwards, his eyes unconsciously following the hat trajectory. Taking the opportunity, they sliced the distracted man's head off. Blood splattered on their face but that didn't seem to bother them.

As the man lay dead, they caught the falling hat and in a smooth gesture placed it back on their head. In the distance, noises of spurs approaching made them turn to the side, tilting the hat toward Erron.

"Howdy partner"

Seeing the giant grin on (Y/n)'s face made the gunslinger's heart skip a beat. Splashes of blood covered their face but his hat had remained spotless. Even when fighting, they took great care not to let the hat get dirty. Behind them, the last rebel died, earning various cries of triumph from the soldiers of the Kahn all around. Erron kept staring at his partner, still not processing how gorgeous they were with his hat on. As they were about to remove the hat to return it to its original owner, a hand stopped them.

"Keep it"

Erron would never admit it out loud that he enjoyed seeing (Y/n) with the headwear. Besides, he had plenty of spared ones. One less wouldn't hurt.

“Much obliged darlin’ ”

Groaning with their attempt at sounding like a cowboy, Erron walked away. He could still hear (Y/n) laughing as they followed behind.

Kung Lao

0o0o0o00oo

You won’t see him without it

Unless it’s to shower or sleep

Takes great care of his hat since well it’s his weapon.

Would feel hesitant to let you touch it after he’s sharpened the edge.

You absolutely love to see him fight with it cuz you find him both attractive and badass while he does

You do express the desire to try it but never get around to trying it

Blame Raiden for always taking your boy out for training or missions

You happened to stumble upon the hat one day at the temple with Kung Lao nowhere to be seen.

You wouldn’t skip a beat before taking hold of the weapon and putting it on.

Liu Kang would find you later and the two of you would start training.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kung Lao leaned on one of the temple support beams, arms crossed over his chest. From afar, he watched as his partner blocked one of Liu Kang’s flaming fits with his hat.

Earlier that day, Kung Lao had been meditating peacefully with his trusted hat placed beside him, when one of the elderly monks came to him for help. Thinking it would only take a few minutes, Kung Lao had left his hat in its spot and followed the other monk.

The errant took longer than he had anticipated but was done fairly quickly nonetheless. However, once he came back to his meditation place, the hat was gone. Puzzled, he had searched the surrounding area to no avail. Sure, the shaolin monk could have summoned his weapon back to him no problem, but a small voice inside him told him to keep looking around.

He had been near the training ground when he heard the telltale sound of his hat hitting the ground. Because yes this man can recognize the sound of his weapon hitting things.

The sight that welcomed him inside the area almost made him laugh. He wasn’t surprised to see (Y/n) wearing his hat, since he knew fully well about their desire to try the weapon.

Quietly observing the friendly match, Kung Lao was rather impressed. (Y/n) seemed fairly comfortable with his weapon, even imitating some of his own moves flawlessly. A soft smile appeared on Kung Lao's face at the thought of them studying him carefully whenever they would come to watch him train.

Raiden stopped by after a while. Arms crossed behind his back, the Thunder God joined Kung Lao in observing the match.

The Shaolin monk felt a sense of proudness inside him. His partner was wielding his weapon and keeping up with the chosen one. The sight was truly beautiful.

Unaware of the two spectators in the back, (Y/n) had their full attention on Liu Kang, dodging his attacks one after the other.

Wanting to try something crazy, they threw the hat up in the air before sliding underneath Liu Kang's parted legs. Upon straightening up behind the chosen one, their foot connected with the falling hat. Liu Kang barely managed to avoid the weapon as it flew past him and lodge itself in the temple’s wall.

The man turned to face (Y/n), surprised yet amused by the event. There, on Liu Kang’s shoulder, was a small cut left by the hat as it went by him. Which only meant one thing.

“First person to leave a mark on the other is the winner, so this means I won” They exclaimed with a giant smile on their face.

At that moment, Kung Lao made his presence known by clapping. Summoning his hat back to him, he walked toward his partner, Raiden not far behind. Fondness in his eyes, he picked them up and kissed their forehead as a reward.

" You were amazing!"

Lets just say that from then on, Kung Lao would let (Y/n) train with his hat just so he could enjoy watching them kick ass with it.

Raiden

0o0o0o0o

It's more of a fashion accessory than a necessity

Like Erron and Kung Lao, he would rarely remove it tho

Heck, you don’t even think you’ve seen Raiden’s hair once in the long time you’ve known him.

But if you had to guess, they would be white like his brother.

Or he was simply bald.

The idea of stealing the God's hat did pop up in your head more than once

But the thought of pissing off a God for stealing his shit didn’t sound good in your mind.

So you left it to that.

Raiden would sometimes catch you glancing up at his hat and wondered about the meaning of this.

You'd pretty much given up about the hat.

Until the day the hat literally landed in your hand.

It was a particularly windy day at the temple. As (Y/n) roamed around the place without anything better to do, they sighted something strange flying in the wind. Curious about the object, (Y/n) followed it until it was low enough for them to grab it.

Upon closer inspection, the object revealed itself to be a hat. A hat that they knew very well. But the God of Thunder was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry little hat, I’ll bring you back to your owner”

Putting the hat on their head, (Y/n) went on a quest to find Lord Raiden and return the lost item. At least, that’s what they had in mind at first. However, they found themselves quickly distracted from the task as they wandered around the temple.

Somewhere during their search, a monk approached them asking for help to move stuff from one place to another. Being the kindred heart that they were, (Y/n) agreed to help the monk. After a while, they were finally done with the task and went back to their search, the monk thanking them as they left.

This went on and off during the day, with monks asking for help or errants and (Y/n) agreeing. To a point where they had completely forgotten about the hat sitting on their head.

Evening rolled around eventually. Exhausted from their day, (Y/n) found themselves sitting in an isolated part of the temple while nursing a cup of green tea. The wind had settled into a nice breeze which gently brushed against them.

“Good evening (Y/n)”

Looking to the side, their eyes fell on a rare sight. Approaching them was Lord Raiden.There was an air of calmness around the God as he came to an alt next to them. Hands behind his back, he titled his head slightly, making a few strands of hair come loose from the quickly made ponytail. (Y/n) stared, feeling their heartbeat quicken. They could see Raiden's hair and as they had guessed, his hair was indeed white but shorter than they had thought it would be.

Noticing their lack of response, (Y/n) cleared their throat as a way to hide their embarrassment from staring a bit too long. Carefully placing the cup to the side, they stood.

“Thunderbolt, I was looking for you earlier! But it appeared that I got sidetracked and forgot about it.”

Seeing their partner had reminded them of their initial quest.

“ I appeared to have found your hat and wished to return it to you.”

(Y/n) gently took off the item and handed it to Raiden. They had grown somewhat accustomed to the weight of the hat over the hours. So much so that, now with the item gone, they felt weirdly naked.

“It would seem you have taken a liking to it. It suits you well.”

Taking the offered hat in his hand, Raiden thanked his partner for keeping the object safe until it was returned to him. However, the God seemed to hesitate for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the helm of the hat.

"Perhaps you should keep an eye on it for a little longer."

Raiden lifted the hat and gently placed it back upon (Y/n) head. Satisfied, the God of Thunder walked away. Raiden would later deny it to his brother that the mere sight of them wearing his hat made his heart beat faster.

Standing there, the tea long forgotten, (Y/n) watched as Raiden turned the corner. Did he just flirted with them? Touching the hat as if to make sure this wasn't all a dream, they laughed. Who were they to refuse a gift from a God.

//////

Later that night, they would force Raiden to lay down, his head on their laps, so they could marvel and play with his hair.

[its-time-to-write]

I’ve always had this idea that reader is like, one of the fittest people that work at AFC Richmond, like she can hold herself in a fight. Maybe she does boxing and the team shows up to support as a surprise and they’re all like DAMN. And a certain Manchester man goes googoo over her and ALSJDISPDODJKLL I feel like in my mind it’s an idea with lots of potential behind for any character matchup and scenarios but yeah that’s it (ps I love your writing it brings me so much joy!!)

got it! thanks @coloursofyen for a) the ideas and b) keeping me on track with these last few fics.

I rage-wrote this fic bc I accidentally saw the Man City score before I had a chance to watch it. I’m very upset rn😂 Also, I know nothing about boxing.

move fast and keep quiet

Ted’s been on this thing recently, where one day of training out of every five is a “physical and mental enrichment day,” which is a fancy way of saying the team does yoga or some shit together. Recently he’s been bringing in this boxing coach for “the team’s aggressive tendencies,” in wake of the whole West Ham debacle, and no one’s quite sure if that was really the best response to the situation. Teaching AFC Richmond how to fight better? Maybe not the best idea. 

You’ve been coming once a week for a month now, teaching them how to spar on the pitch. Isaac, Jamie, and Bumbercatch are definitely the most enthusiastic about it, with the way Isaac studies each punch, Bumbercatch practices the footwork, and Jamie asks a million fucking questions every single time. 

According to Sam, he’s been an absolute menace, practicing his moves through the halls of Nelson Road.

“What is your problem?” Jan asks one day. “Can you not just walk to the gym like a regular person?”

Jamie shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

It isn’t long before word goes around the dogtrack that Jamie has a crush on the boxing instructor.

“You like her,” Dani singsongs. Jamie doesn’t deny it. 

“She’s mad fit. Even her smile,” Jamie defends.

He’s not exactly wrong. The team starts an unofficial countdown until their next training session, and are disappointed to walk into the regular setup when the day rolls around. There’s a whiteboard with a new play from Roy and Beard, and the whole team barely tries to hide their disappointment.

“Oi, where’s Jamie’s girlfriend?” Isaac asks the moment Ted walks in.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie interjects.

Ted points to Jamie. “We’ll unpack that later. For now, I need you fellas to get ready to run this new play Coach Beard and Roy have cooked up. I want everyone ready to show a lotta teamwork.”

Richard raises his hand. “Coach, where is Jamie’s girlfriend?”

Jamie puts his head in his hands and says, “She ain’t my girlfriend, lad,” but it doesn’t matter. The name is going to stick.

Ted says, “She’s busy training for a match tomorrow, but she’ll be back next week. She told me to tell you all that she hopes you can come watch.”

Sam loudly whispers, “You mean she hopes Jamie will come watch,” and the rest of the team says oooh.

“Fuck off,” Jamie replies, but he’s blushing.

—

They end up commandeering the team bus. 

The fight is… well, let’s just say it’s convinced Jamie that he needs to make the “girlfriend” jokes a reality. He will never admit how smitten you make him, what with the way you’re dodging and weaving, wiping sweat from your brow as your braids fly. But when it’s all over and you’re announced the winner, he’s almost positive you can hear him cheering over the rest of the crown because he’s just so damn happy.

The team waits around while the rest of the arena clears out, but Jamie can’t wait. He slips away from the group and asks a security guard where he can find you. The guard looks at him and states, “You’re Jamie Tartt.”

“Yeah,” Jamie responds, unsure of what else to say because it wasn’t exactly a question.

“She said you could come back. Follow me,” grunts the guard. Jamie turns around to make eye contact with Sam before hurrying after the security guard.

“In here.” The guard points to a door then leaves Jamie alone, staring at your name printed on a metal plaque. Shit, how good must you be to have your name here?

He knocks once and hears you call, “Come in,” so he pushes the door open. You’re sitting on the floor downing a bottle of water, still sweaty. There’s a bit of blood dried to your forehead and Jamie is a little worried that he finds it sexy.

You smile at him and pat the floor next to you.

“I’d get up, but I’m really fucking tired,” you say. “She got me good.”

Jamie slides onto the floor next to you. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “Made me rethink my whole career.”

You wheeze out a laugh. “With the way you run your mouth? You’d get brained in a week. I make sure none of my partners hate me. Me ’n the girl you saw tonight are going out to lunch tomorrow.”

Oh. That’s new information for Jamie. He’s trying to figure out if you mean lunch as a friend thing, or if you’re going on a date. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Oi, what’s your deal? Upset you’re stuck as a sad little footballer when you could be getting punched out on the daily like me?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah. Just thinking how cool it were tonight.”

You grin and take another swig of water. “Hey, you wanna take me out on a date?”

Jamie chokes on air. After a moment he manages to cough, “Sorry, what?” and you shrug.

“Told myself if you came back here after the match I’d ask you out. I let security know you could come back if you wanted, and I figured you might be kinda fucking interested if you tried to get back here without me inviting you.”

“Uh huh,” Jamie says, still trying to get his breath back.

You look at him sideways. “Is that a yes? It’s all good if not.”

“No, yes!” Jamie says. “It’s yes. Where do you want to go? When’re you available? We could do something tonight if you want.”

You make a face. “I’m absolutely knackered. I was planning on going home to take a nice long shower and then passing out.”

Jamie nods. Right. Sounds logical.

“You could join me,” you suggest, and Jamie chokes for the second time.

“Jesus, Tartt, you’re excitable,” you tease. “It’s just a shower and some sleep. Although I might be convinced that I didn’t get enough cardio in tonight. Depends on if you’re willing to drive me home so I can nap.”

“Done,” Jamie says immediately. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

You grin as he pulls you up off the floor. “Oh,” you say, studying his perfect lips, “one more thing before we go…”

[simphornies]

A/N: Short but you'll see why <3 Loves and kisses!

Word count: 1.1k (1,196) Warnings: blood, everyone's fighting, major injury, alastor being alastor

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 5

Your ears were ringing, vision blurred. The dust from the rubble got caught in your throat making you cough. Pain was the first thing you felt when your senses came to. As soon as the dust cleared you realized that you’d been entrapped under the rubble, one wrong move and it could all cave in. You looked down and two of your wings were pinned, golden blood oozing from under it.

Charlie was trying to get you out of the rubble, her screams were faintly audible and you heard her digging through. Then it stopped after another loud boom. The pain overpowered your body, you couldn’t yank yourself out without ripping your wings apart. For once in your life, you felt absolutely helpless under the rubble with no way of contacting anybody. You just hoped that the others were okay.

The Vees had come with their army of goons and with the lack of preparation everyone in the hotel had, everyone was in a struggle. Lucifer and Alastor were enraged, their demon forms fully showing. With Alastor’s tendrils and Lucifer’s mobility, they fended off the majority of the attackers. They both aimed for Velvette as soon as they got an opening.

Velvette laughed and wielded an angelic spear, launching it straight at Lucifer. Lucifer got ready to dodge it but Alastor quickly caught it, to his dismay, before it could get too close. “Wrong move.” She grinned.

Lucifer turned quickly and saw that Valentino had a dagger up to Charlie’s neck. His eyes turned red and flew straight at him. “Ah ah.” He menacingly smiled, “Any closer and Little Bleeding Heart will get it.” He cut her neck just enough to make her start bleeding.

He laughed as he saw everyone freeze, “For an establishment filled with such power…” He grinned wider with pride, “You all are so weak.”

They were at a standstill, neither side couldn’t move but it was clear that the Vees had the advantage.

Back at Vox’s security room he sees the commotion at the hotel, his heart dropping as soon as he realizes you weren’t on the field. “Y/N…” He scanned through all the footage and not once did he see you appear. He saw the first attack that made the ceiling fall. He thought of the worst. He knew he wasn’t in good enough physical condition to fight, making him hesitate. He sucked it up and left for the hotel as fast as he could go, traveling through the wires.

“What do you want?” Vaggie screamed, spear pointed at Valentino from a distance.

He laughed, “We want Y/N. To fuck off from you and work for us.” The evil in his grin wasn’t hard to miss.

“Like hell we’d ever hand her over to you, you freaks.” Husk hissed. His statement turned Valentino’s smug grin into a frown.

“Watch it, cat,” He held the blade tighter to Charlie’s neck, “I’ll kill this little bitch right n—”

A punch launched Valentino forward, blade dropping behind him. Lucifer flew to Charlie the moment he saw the opening as she fell to the floor. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She coughed out. “But who-”

Everyone averted their attention to who landed the blow and to their surprise, Vox stood there seething with rage. “What the fuck, Vox?” Velvette screamed. It wasn’t long until she was surrounded by Alastor’s tendrils, all holding weapons. She groaned and crossed her arms, admitting defeat.

“I told you two to not fuck with, Y/N. Her business is with me and I change my mind however much I fucking want.” He angrily spoke, his voice laced with a stereo like effect. His cracked screen had sparks flying out of them, making him glitch every now and then.

The Vees got tied up and monitored by Lucifer while everyone else ran to find you under the rubble. You saw everything that happened thanks to the watch Vox gave you. Since Vox’s screen was cracked, you couldn’t get a hold of him and he was the only person that the watch could connect to. You just hoped everyone wasn’t hurt too bad.

Alastor stayed behind, facing Vox from across the battlefield. He glared at him, his smile becoming more menacing. “Greetings, old pal.” He snarled.

“Alastor.” Vox replied, “Look about Y/N, I’m s-”

“Keep her name-” He grew bigger in size, completely embracing his demon form, “OUT OF YOUR LYING MOUTH.” He hissed and launched his tendrils to attack him. Vox zapped away to dodge the attack, shooting electricity to make them fade away and to maintain his distance from him.

“Alastor! Let me expl-” A tendril managed to uppercut him, knocking him down. Alastor moved closer to him, looming over the injured Vox.

“My presence here in Hell surely stays an enigma. But blatant-” He kicks his side, tossing him a couple of feet. Vox clutched his side, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “-and deliberate lies!” He stepped on him, savoring the sound of his ribs cracking underneath his shoes. “That damage my relations are where I draw the line.” His uncomfortable grin made Vox glitch out in fear, the sparks that flew out of the crack becoming more frequent. “I’ll make an example out of your wretched decisions to remind everyone not to mess with the Radio Demon.” He lifted his claws and lunged at Vox.

He was too weak to fight back or try to zap away. He knew his systems were in no condition to handle a fight, let alone one with Alastor. He looked up and watched as his claws came closer and closer.

For a moment, he thinks back on you. He remembered every detail he grew to love. He realized that he acted too quickly on his ideas. He remembered how you managed to soften his character, how you smiled whenever he’d give you gifts, how you were the common sense to his rash decisions. He remembered how your laugh would differ depending on the situation and he definitely remembered how it sounded when you were truly happy. He remembered the hospitality you provided him, the second chance you offered despite his reputation and his standing with Alastor. He realized that his pride prevented him from seeing the truth of it all.

He fell in love with you.

And he only came to realize it at the face of death.

He gritted his teeth, pushed his pain to the side and managed to zap away, avoiding Alastor’s claws. This move made him wince in pain. Alastor growled, “Putting up a senseless fight? You might just impress me.” He laughed.

Vox clenched his fists, “I’m not letting you kill me until I get to apologize to her.” He dodged an attack, “And I’m not letting anything stop me from telling her the full truth. And I put that on my soul. But I’m not hurting her more by attacking her friends. Especially you.”

He moved further away, “I surrender.” He raised his hands up in defeat. Alastor simply laughed at him before launching another set of tendrils toward him. Vox shut his eyes and braced for impact.

Taglist: @emekeneme @ghostdoodlen @chewbrry @dawko-fanpage @lofasofabread @hxzbinwrites @rapunzelbro @elsihiaweee @blackrose8425 @dickmastersworld @lofasofabread @rosiethevoxobesser @themetalbabygirl @markster666 @riskyraiker @fadingflowers-world(it won't let me tag the two of you but i'll send them)

[trancylovecraft]

Can i get uhhh amaimon from blue exorcist? Please i need crumbs.

(AOEX) YANDERE! AMAIMON x READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: coming right up!!! MY BOY AMAIMON <3333 (side note: the fear of god has influenced this fanfiction. i got attacked by a spider the size of like tennis ball while writing this and i had to kill it with a whack a mole hammer. ) GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

Okay, Here we go!

Amaimon, King of Earth and apart of the Ba'al! Scourge to sweets and all things hygienic.. Has fallen for you!

I view Amaimon as a Possessive, Jealous and Lucid yandere.

Possessive in the way that Amaimon simply believes you're his, No questions asked. It's only in his nature as a demon to be as such and if he decides you're his property then that is how it shall be.

Jealous in the way that Amaimon absolutely despises it whenever you're around someone else. I suspect being subjected by Shemihaza and seen to be weaker as such has given him a little bit of an inferiority complex, Even if he doesn't understand such a thing. Anytime your around someone he feels absolutely angered, Especially if you show signs that you like them.

Lucid in the way that Amaimon probably knows that by human standards this is very wrong. And he honestly just doesn't care. I mean even by demon standards this is weird as hell and Amaimon will just shrug and continue on with what he's doing.

I can see one way where this dude gets obsessed with you.

So lets say that you're an exorcist, A higher ranked one too. Perhaps you're an Arc Knight, Perhaps you're just in the Upper Class but all that really matters is that you're powerful. A force to be reckoned with. Someone that a demon would not want to face.

This takes place during the forest-camp arc, You know the one, Where Rin goes absolutely berserk in his fight with big bad Amaimon? Yeah, That one.

You were called to the scene and jumped into the fight, Causing a clash between the two demons, Separating them apart with a single slash of your sword, Both flying apart at high speeds.

Amaimon for one, Is pissed.

Both because he was losing a fight to motherfucking RIN. And also because he got pulled out of it by some rando human girl with a sword???

Listen, Amaimon hates losing a fight as much as the next guy, Probably even more to be honest. But what he hates more is being brought out of said fight forcefully. He's competitive, Even if he's losing. Badly.

But as soon as he wretches his head up from the tree he collided with, His eyes connecting with yours-

He still felt primal rage.

This is the point where Mephisto steps in, Admonishing Amaimon for causing unnecessary damage to his school's grounds before tossing him in the Cuckoo Clock. Amaimon's mortal vessel being punctured with a dozen spears, Trapping him inside.

And he's beyond pissed. Absolutely furious.

The only thing Amaimon thinks about during his time in the clock isn't Rin. It's not how he was embarrassingly overwhelmed. No-

It's you.

You. The one who spoiled his fun. Amaimon hated pesky humans who dared to interrupt him and what he chose to do, And that includes chaos-reaping.

He grinds his canines in frustration. Remembering the way you stood there, Looking at him like you thought you were better. Oh so smug, At least that's how Amaimon viewed you in his head.

A human that thought they were better than him, The King of Earth. Interrupting his playtime and proceeding to rub it in his face too.

You were the only thing on his mind when he was in there. Punctured and bloody. The only thing.

Of course, When he finally lets out, He's not gonna forget you.

As soon as he's out and terrorising True Cross as Ambrosius Faust, He's out on a hunt for you in particular. And what do you know? It seems like in the time he was away, You had became a teacher within the cram school.

Of course you meet. You have a spat. But Mephisto had banned him from ever harming any of the students or the teachers here.

And of course, Amaimon doesn't want to go back into the Cuckoo Clock..

So he resorts to terrorising you, Acting up in your class. Food wrappers all over the floor, Amaimon sitting on desks and staring daggers into you while he proceeds to do absolutely no work.

And you can't do anything about this either. He might be a demon king but Mephisto most definetly banned you from hurting him, Lest you lose your job. You may hate the time clown but unfortunately he's your boss and you've grown attached to your students.

So both of you are locked in a stalemate here.

Amaimon has dedicated his current self to harassing and making your life a living nightmare. It's only right for what you did, Disrespecting a demon king like that. And ruining his playtime.

It's basically his new hobby now.

Amaimon proceeds to terrorise you in and out of class. Eyes you down in the hallways, Knocks over the supplies on your desk.. Probably even dumps dead mice and small animals on your doorstep as a warning.

But as just as he was about to do that again one day, You open your door, Smiling as you kiss a man on the lips before stepping out.

Amaimon pauses, Only getting a glimpse at the man in the doorway.

He blinks.

Who was that?

Amaimon soon finds out that the man in the doorway was infact your husband. How could he have not noticed this before? Amaimon had basically forgotten that a ring on your finger signalled partnership to another human. He's still out of the loop on human customs.

But now? The glare of the diamond on that ring is all he can see.

And for some reason, He hates it.

He's biting at the claw on his thumb as he glares at the door, Watching as you step out and make your way to class. The dead rabbit in his hand basically being tossed to the side, Forgetting about it altogether.

I think it would take him a while to figure out what he feels towards you, He's not that good with human emotions. It might even take a little bit of intervention from Mephisto to get Amaimon to realise what he's feeling.

It's simple.

He likes you.

But he doesn't like your husband.

Mephisto said he couldn't harm the students or the teachers.

But nothing about husbands.

The feelings he has for you begin to stir. Possession, Obsession, Love, Lust. Who knows what he feels for you? Certainly not Amaimon. He barely understands it in the first place.

All he knows is that he wants you, And your husband could go die for all Amaimon cared.

Amaimon isn't the kind of guy to mull over his actions. If he has an urge, He will act on it. If he wants something, He'll take it. Amaimon won't usually wait for permission or approval, Nor does he care for human culture or customs.

So he acts accordingly.

It was a good day at work for you, Your students and you laughing and giggling. It was such a lovely day too, The nature and the earth all in bloom, A warm temperature and beautiful blue skies for miles.

And best of all? No Amaimon.

You didn't really mull over his absence as you happily skipped up the pathway to your house, Grasping the strap of your bag as you fished in it for your keys.

But as soon as you lay your hand on the door, It creaks open.

It was unlocked

You pause, Blinking. It wasn't like your husband to leave the door unlocked, Mostly because he was working at this time and was usually out of the house. And you doubted he forgot considering he was always so insistent on making sure it was shut tight when nobody was home.

You chuckled a little, His quirks always managing to make you do so.

So you figure that he had came home early, For one reason or another. There wasn't any sign of break in anyways, So what reason did you have to fear?

But as you push the door open, Distracted by putting away your keys in your bag as you step inside, You instantly know something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

It was dark inside your house, None of the lights on. But most of all you could smell what seemed to be.. Copper, Something metallic and.. Familiar.

But what made you freeze, What made you stop, Pause, Made your heart skip a beat was the squelching sound oozing from beneath your feet.

You look down.

Your heart stops.

Red. It was red.

The puddle beginning to stain the soles of your shoes. It was red.

You drop your keys, Your eyes widening as you yell out in alarm. Your body instantly raising it's guard as you summon your weapon, Heart beginning to thunder in your chest.

The blood, There was a pool of blood beneath your feet and you had no idea where it was coming from. But it was dripping, Running, It was fresh and there was a lot of it.

"Oh. You're back."

That voice.

You whip your head around, Eyes focusing in on a humanoid figure waltzing out of the darkness. You knew that voice all too well, That stupid, Aggravating, Monotonous voice.

Amaimon stood in the doorway, Hands in his pockets with an almost bored look on his face. Yet his eyes never left you, His gaze intense but not burning with hatred like they had before.

You yell at him, Raising your sword in anger and demanding what he had done with your husband. Your eyes wide and wild, Angry, Enraged- Ready to cut him down in an instant.

Amaimon merely shrugs, Not even missing a beat as he told you that he killed him.

Killed him.

Killed your husband.

You feel your world breaking, Crumbling into pieces as he tells you this. You deny it, Yell at him, Scream at him to tell you the truth, To tell you where he was-

But Amaimon just stays quiet, And that's all the confirmation you needed.

Your sword is raised high, Your body ready to lunge and slice his flesh into strips. You don't care what Mephisto said, You didn't care about your job. You cared about your husband and your future with him, Everything with him, You loved him.

You didn't care. You were going to get revenge.

But back then Amaimon was overwhelmed by the rampaging son of Satan. Back then he was distracted, Back then he was taken by surprise, Back then it wasn't a fair fight.

But now?

Amaimon stood there, His head high and his stare intense. You lived in a rural part of town, Where nature and the earth grew wildly. Kin of Earth were rampant around here-

Amaimon was completely in his element.

And despite your efforts, In the end you were defeated. Amaimon didn't care what Mephisto said about not hurting you. You had started it, Right? Amaimon was just defending himself.

And he's just acting on instinct, Can he really blame him?

And this starts the domestic stage.

You wake up somewhere unfamiliar, Somewhere deep within the rural countryside of Japan. Your body was numb and it felt like it was weighed down by something.

Though your vision was blurry, You could see greenmen all running about happily. You could see Kin of Earth infesting the area, Both Lower and Middle class, Ignoring your presence altogether.

You try to scream, To summon your sword-

But quickly you feel your throat begin to clog up, Beginning to sputter up flowers and twigs and leaves in clumps. Your sword isn't summoning either, Your power drained and your body weak.

Amaimon sits atop a branch, Watching as you struggle and begin to pass out once more. His kin roamed about the little clearing they had claimed for themselves, Now housing you, His current fixation.

You're not gonna be seen for a long time.

Amaimon often brings you back things that he'd think you like, Things that he probably stole from people. Stuff like Jewellery, Food, Rocks, Pieces of paper, A pretty piece of fabric. Magpie mentality.

Are you a vegan? You better hope so. Amaimon probably feeds you solely with plant-stuff because that's the easiest to get for him. With meat? Amaimon doesn't know how to cook and he prefers it raw anyways. You might get some cold instant ramen and some candy, But apart from that? Better get used to the green-stuff.

On that note, I feel like Amaimon would always share his food with you. Like, He'd always half it between you and himself no matter what he's eating. Ramen, Pizza, A single Lollipop. You name it.

You're unable to escape the area he has made for you. Your power constantly drained by the demonic plants taken root in your skin. And even then his kin was there to watch you 24/7. They'd absolutely chase after you relentlessly if you tried to get away.

Amaimon himself probably doesn't even realise that he likes you romantically for a while. You'll either need to point it out to him or he'll figure it out later on his own.

That ring you use to have? The diamond one? The one that your husband proposed to you with? Gone. Like the wind.

Amaimon will find you another ring, One that signals your ownership to him, Something more impressive then what a weak little human could ever give you. He'll force you to wear it too, You won't be allowed to take it off.

He probably likes to bite you too, By the way. You cannot tell me that Amaimon doesn't like marking you as a way to show ownership. If the bite marks and scars begin to fade, He'll just get you new ones.

You hate him. You hate him with every fibre in your being, His name dripping like venom on your tongue. You want nothing more than to strangle him and watch him writhe under your boot as you sever his head. You feel like vomiting every time he touches you.

Amaimon doesn't understand when you say you don't like him and want to get away.

He just tells you to stop crying, That he's much better than that weak suitor that came before him.

You should be glad that the King of Earth has taken such an interest in you.

Sometimes he'll come back learning a new 'courtship' method that humans use, Copying it in a sort of grotesque way.

He'll kiss you but he may try to bite your lips off. He'll hug you but you'll need to make him control his strength. He'll carry you, But only dangling from under his arm, Dizzy from being held upside down.

And yes, He probably does get human affection from Anime that Mephisto makes him watch.

Mephisto is definetly aware of this. No doubt. And to be honest this could've been his plan for you the entire time, To be something that he could use to manipulate Amaimon with.

Amaimon probably knows that too. But honestly, He doesn't care.

If you ever did escape, Amaimon would be furious.

He'd rampage, He'd destroy and destroy and destroy until he had you back in his possession. He may not be as powerful as he was back when he wasn't subjugated by Shiemihaza, But you know he's still capable of causing devastation.

It's the rare time he shows genuine outrage, Such wild and unforgiving possessive anger.

You better hope you run far, Run fast, Run until your legs collapse from under you. Hide somewhere urban where his kin are unlikely to roam and hope to GOD Amaimon won't find you.

He won't give up. He'll never give up.

All in all, Make sure you stay away from rural areas. Hope to the lord that Mephisto likes you enough to let you leave like that and keep aware of your surroundings at all times.

Good luck!

[lonelym00n]

It's (sometimes) okay to trust a stranger

Sam Carpenter x Hicks!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Sixteen year old Sam just needs a friend. Despite the odds, she finds one in you.

A/N: this was supposed to be short but for some reason I couldn't stop myself from making it longer. hope u enjoy anyways!

Harshly slamming your front door shut, you stomped towards your car, hopped in, and quickly started the engine. Your chest was heaving up and down furiously and you could feel tears uselessly streaming down your cheeks. In one last fit of anger, you pounded your clenched fists into the steering wheel. Your temporary breakdown is interrupted at the sight of the front door swinging back open, your mom striding quickly towards you. You move faster than her, shifting the car into reverse and flying into the street without a care in the world. 

You hear your mom scream your name as you shift back into drive and absolutely floor it, cruising carelessly into the slowly darkening night. Hopefully she noticed you were going well above the speed limit, you knew it would piss her off even more if she did. 

Reaching one hand up towards your face, you angrily swipe the tears away before clicking the radio on. The volume is unnecessarily loud, just how you like it. 

As you aimlessly drive, you’re finally able to catch your breath and get a grip on your raging emotions. Deep down you know you had no right to be as mad as you are, but you were just so frustrated with your mother’s behavior lately. She expected you to be so perfect and happy and a ray of fucking sunshine all the time and trying to live up to her high standards had you so exhausted. It didn’t help that she constantly compared you to your younger brother, who she so clearly favored.

Tears welled up in your eyes for the second time and you let them fall. You felt hopeless and defeated. Worst of all, there was nothing you could do to make yourself feel better. You could only accept your fate and lay in the bed that was made for you. 

You pull into an empty parking lot, hug your knees tight to your chest, and force yourself to recall the fight between you and your mother. 

***

You sat in your room, humming along to the music you had idly playing in the background. After finishing all of your homework, you had decided to paint your nails. It was something that you found to be oddly relaxing and it had become a form of self-care for you. 

Before you could open up the bottle of nail polish, a knock sounded at your door. “Come in,” you called. 

The small form of your eleven year-old brother, Wes, peeked into your room. “Mommy says it’s time for dinner.” He grins toothily at you, “She got sushi!”

Though sushi was more of his favorite food than it was yours, you smiled brightly for the boy’s sake. “Mm yum” you hummed, “Race ya to the kitchen.”

He laughed as you took off, sprinting down the stairs and skidding to a halt just in front of the dining room. Before you could even begin to situate yourself at the table, your mom’s overly sweet voice broke your inner peace, “Y/N,” she scolded, “No running down the stairs. You or Wesley could easily get hurt.”

Wes apologized, a small frown on his chubby face. You, however, remained silent and clenched your jaw in irritation. Of course within seconds of her being home, she had already found a way to put a stop to your relaxed state.

She handed out the sushi and you all dug into your respective meals. She and Wes chatted about his day at school while you kept to yourself, deciding instead to scroll mindlessly through your phone. Seeing a particular funny post of Kirby’s, you couldn’t stop the light chuckle from sliding out of your mouth.

Your mother tutted and reached across the table to pluck your phone from your hands. “No phones at the table.”

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, instead choosing to divert your attention to your nails, noting that they would need to be filed before you applied the polish. 

Your mom turned her attention away from Wes and onto you. “So,” she spoke, sounding extremely cheerful, “How’s school going for you, honey?” 

You sighed before responding, “Okay, I guess. Lots of assignments this week so that sucks, but I guess it’s fine since there aren’t any exams.”

She seemed pleased by your response and bit into another piece of sushi. Just as you were about to turn back to your own meal, she spoke again, “Who do you hang around with these days?” 

You groaned internally, knowing by her tone that nothing good could come out of this conversation. Leave it to Deputy Judy to try and police who you decided to hang out with. You scratched your neck before answering, “Mostly just Kirby these days. Other than her I keep to myself.” 

Her eyebrows raised at your answer before she shook her head. You did roll your eyes this time. “What mom? Go ahead, explain to me what the problem with Kirby is.” 

Needless to say, you were annoyed. She never approved of who you were friends with and wasn’t afraid to tell you exactly what she thought of them. “Well,” she spoke indignantly, “To start, the girl has broken about ten different driving laws. She’s constantly participating in underage drinking and has helped Jill Roberts sneak out of her house on several different occasions. She’s a terrible influence, sweetie, and from what I’ve heard, her parents are almost never home. That’s always a bad sign.”

You huffed and raked your hands through your hair in frustration. “Seriously? It’s Jill’s own choice to sneak out and that has nothing to do with Kirby. All you really have on her is that she’s a shit driver.”

Judy gasped and she raised a scolding finger up at you. “You watch your mouth around your brother, young lady. Bet you learned that awful language from her.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at your mom’s audacity. “Jesus mom, Kirby’s not the only teenager that swears, you’re so obnoxious sometimes.”

“That’s it!” She stood up and stomped her foot on the ground. “You aren’t allowed to be friends with her anymore!” 

You jumped out of your seat and let out a hysterical laugh at her crazy behavior, “Seriously!? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound?”

“You better quit while you’re ahead missy.”

You scoffed, the anger coursing through your brain making you feel very bold, “You know what mom? I’m not gonna quit while I’m ahead. I’m sick of you trying to decide who I can and can’t be friends with!” Your lip curled up in defiance and you decided to continue, “You always do this. You always try to put yourself in charge of who I hang out with! I’m done with it. It really pisses me off.”

She looked shocked at your outburst but you didn’t care. She refused to listen to you when you talked calmly so if you had to raise your voice to finally get your point across to her, you would do so gladly. “I don’t know where this behavior is coming from Y/N Hicks but I expect an apology right now.”

You laughed loudly at her words. “No! You know what mom, I’ll tell you where this behavior is coming from. I have no friends because of you! No one at school invites me anywhere because they only see me as the deputy’s nark daughter. And the people who do hang out with me? They all leave!” You threw your arms up in the air wildly, “They either leave because you bust their party or because you force me to push them away!” 

At this point your face is bright red as the words spew out of your mouth. You feel frustrated enough to explode. Little Wes sits in his chair, completely silent as he watches the two of you argue.

Your mom speaks up, tone quiet in that way that means you have most certainly crossed a line, “I’m keeping this phone.” She waves your phone in front of you and you want to double over and scream loud enough to shake the whole house. Clearly she hadn’t cared about a word you said.

“Good! I don’t need it anyways!” You trudge over to the entryway and throw your coat over your shoulders, hearing your keys jingle in your pocket at the erratic action. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” She yells from the dining room. 

“Anywhere but here!” With that, you fling yourself out of the house.

***

Your tears have diminished to sniffles at this point. Part of you feels broken and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do to fix it. 

Lost in the crooning sound of the radio and your racing thoughts, you don’t notice the figure creeping towards your car. 

The sudden tap at your window causes you to let out a terrified shriek. Your knee knocks into the horn as you twist towards the source of the tapping noise and you scream even louder at the powerful beep that rings out into the dead of night..  

Your chest rises raggedly as you hesitantly trail your eyes up the figure that looms outside your window. The panic that took over your body calms slightly as you realize that it’s just a girl. You do feel a bit nervous as you recognize the girl to be Samantha Carpenter because even though you were mad at your mom, it doesn’t escape your mind that she had incessantly warned you to stay away from the girl standing outside your car.

She doesn’t look like she’s going to harm you now, with the amused twinkle that sparkles in her brown eyes, so you roll down the window and chuckle awkwardly, “Um hi?”

A teasing smirk stretches across her face, “Hello there. Didn’t mean to scare you half to death.”

You try not to blush at the reference to your moment of panic. “No, don't worry about it, you didn’t.”

She gives you a look that says you’re full of shit but smiles despite the fact. “So,” she draws out lazily, “What brings you here at this time of night?” 

It’s then that you notice the hazy look that’s in her eyes and with what your mother had told you about the girl, you note that she’s probably under the influence of some kind of drug right now. “Uh,” you struggle for a cool sounding response before lamely gesturing around. “Same as you.” You resist the urge to facepalm as your retort comes out as more of a question than a straight response.

She huffs out a laugh and something inside of you flutters at the sound. She cocks an eyebrow at you, “Oh really? So you mean to tell me the deputy’s daughter is out here high off her ass from whatever drug she had managed to scrounge up for the night?”

Your eyes widen comically, but a grin makes its way across your face regardless. “Yup.”

Samantha seems to find your act kind of funny and you internally cheer and congratulate yourself, before mentally sighing at just how corny you are. 

The lanky girl walks around to the other side of your car and motions for you to unlock the door. Curiously, you do. She quickly steps inside, making a small noise of approval at the warmth she’s provided. It’s then that you notice that she hadn’t been wearing a jacket, her (very) muscular arms completely bare in the black tank top that stretches across her form. Dumbly, you fish out your favorite jacket from the backseat and wordlessly offer it to her. She looks at it with interest but leans up to put it on anyways. You think you imagined it, but for a split second you swear her tan cheeks darken slightly.

She clears her throat and the charged atmosphere that had filled the car moments ago disappears with the action. “Clearly I know who you are, Y/N Hicks, so tell me, why would Judy Hicks’ daughter allow a complete stranger into her car?”

You think for a moment but shrug, “Some company is actually just what I needed right now.” She nods in understanding and you continue, this time bearing the teasing smirk on your own face, “Plus, you’re not the only one with a trick up their sleeve. I know who you are too, Samantha.”

A cheshire grin spreads across her mouth. You think it suits her. “Oh yeah? Mommy told you about me then?” You nod and she barks out a laugh, “All bad things, I hope.”

You chuckle at the mirth that has appeared in her expression. “Most certainly all bad things. I swear that’s all Judy Hicks is capable of seeing.”

She seems to pick up on the heaviness of her tone and you wonder if the drug she has taken has given her some heightened sense of perception. “Things don’t seem to be all perfect in paradise.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Sam smiles but it looks more like a grimace, “Believe me, I do.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You wonder what exactly happened to Sam to lead her down this path, but you know better than to ask. Despite your mother’s constant warnings, you find that Sam is actually really refreshing to hang around. She sees the world for what it really is, cold and lonely. It’s a nice change of pace to what you’re used to being around.

The peaceful atmosphere is broken as she reaches into her pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She waits for a beat, anticipating you to chastise her, and looks pleasantly surprised when you don’t speak a word. Your eyes remain locked together as she places the stick into her mouth, rolls the window down, and leisurely lights the cigarette. 

After she takes a long drag, she looks at you curiously. “Y’know you’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.” You motion for her to continue and she does after a short moment, “I figured you’d be a cheery brat like your mom and that you wouldn’t even give someone like me the time of day.”

The last bit of her sentence causes a sad pang to vibrate through your chest. You frown and give her a soft look, “Someone like you? You seem really nice Sam.” She looks at you like you’ve grown three heads, clearly not believing you. “I’m serious,” you say gently, “you must be such a strong person to keep pushing through whatever it is you’re going through. I don’t know you that well, but I know enough to be able to tell that you’re a good person.”

Her eyes brim with tears and she doesn’t even flinch as they spill down her face. Her cigarette, now forgotten, falls from the hand that had been dangling out the window and onto the uneven pavement below. You pull her towards you into a tight hug. After a while of her sobbing softly into your shoulder, she pushes away slightly to meet your eyes. Your heart breaks at how small she sounds when she whispers a tiny thank you up at you. 

You brush the hair out of her eyes and lightly thread your fingers through it. She melts into the contact and you want to cry at how adorable she is. 

The two of you sit like that for what feels like hours, but is more than likely just a few minutes. 

She finally pulls away from you completely and settles back into your passenger seat. Her smirk reappears and you smile at the sight. “Drive. There’s someplace I want to show you.”

You’d known the girl for all of five seconds yet you could already tell that you’d likely do whatever she asked of you, your mother’s opinion be damned. If she had asked you to climb up the rooftop of an abandoned building, you’d likely say yes. And if she had asked you to stay with her up on that same rooftop for the rest of the night, you’d probably (definitely) agree. And if, when the sky began to display a mixture of pink and orange tones, she shyly asked if she could kiss you, you’d press your lips softly to hers in a heartbeat.

Bonus A/N: I've never written a flashback before so I really hope that part turned out okay :)

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace: the truth is...

Prev > Masterlist

This came about as a result of the Choose Your Own Whump poll! The winners were:

secret underground facility

whumpee who is traumatized and hiding it badly

creepily intimate whumper

the corruption was infecting their thoughts, turning them against their allies

tw: restraints, beatings, physical and emotional abuse, drugging, needles, poison, truth serum, mind control

One year after the city's second-most notorious villain, the technomancer Morgan, was taken in by the hero team for medical treatment...

Morgan cracked his eyes open and immediately had to shut them again, blinded by obnoxiously bright lights.

He was woozy, barely awake, and his entire body hurt -- especially his right hand, which was throbbing with pain. It almost felt like some of his fingers had been broken, but he knew from experience that that would hurt far worse than this, unless...

The dreamlike haze slowing down his mind confirmed it. He was on some pretty strong painkillers. It was the sort of thing that would have sent him into a blind panic before, terrified of being incapacitated, but lately he'd been getting used to it. When he'd worked for Salcedo, the city's nastiest supervillain, he never received any form of painkillers, his boss far preferring to use his painful, torturous healing ability to re-injure Morgan and heal him back wrong again and again. A punishment for meeting his defeat at the hands of heroes, or looking at Salcedo wrong, or anything else the boss dreamed up.

That had all changed since he'd officially switched sides. No matter how badly he screwed up, no matter how much he irritated the shit out of the heroes, they always provided him with proper medical care, complete with ample medication. The feel of a hospital bed underneath him confirmed it: he must be in the heroes' infirmary, and that meant he could actually relax. 

He'd have to deal with Arthur, the team leader, and his unwanted concern and pity later, of course. That was absolutely a thorn in his side. He was definitely not looking forward to it.

Morgan shifted slightly, his wrists sore, and realized that he couldn't. He was restrained? And not with soft, comfortable restraints either, but hard metal ones. 

That couldn't be right. The hero team hadn't seen fit to restrain him in almost a year. He'd somehow managed to establish trust with them -- an uneasy, fragile trust, but trust nonetheless -- and he couldn't remember what he'd done to break that trust. The last thing he remembered was fighting his former boss at the city power plant, Arthur shouting his name... and then it all got blurry. He'd been injured, somehow, and he had a vague memory of collapsing into a dirty puddle with the sounds of the fight still raging around him.

He'd been fighting alongside the hero team, on a mission with them, taking out Salcedo's communications equipment and drones left and right. Why would they restrain him now, when he'd been helping them? He used his technomancy to feel out any nearby machines, and found it unresponsive. They'd used power suppressors, too.

The realization forced his eyelids to fly open, and as he adjusted to the painful light, an all-too-familiar ceiling swam into view. Harsh, bare, buzzing fluorescent lighting flickered too close to his face.

He wasn't in the heroes' infirmary at all. He wasn't even in a civilian hospital or a jail infirmary or a psychiatric ward. No, he was in Salcedo's lair, drugged and restrained. The first time he'd been captured since he'd betrayed his boss and started fighting by Arthur's side to stop his plans.

Oh, fuck.

The surge of adrenaline cleared his mind enough to think. Salcedo was going to torture him, that much was certain. Salcedo punished Morgan with beatings, starvation, and torture even for small mistakes -- one of the primary reasons Morgan had finally defected -- so he didn't even want to think about what his punishment for open betrayal would be. The fact that he was still alive at all could only mean that Salcedo was plotting something truly nasty.

Why was he drugged, though? The restraints and power suppressants had him entirely at Salcedo's mercy, and drugs were never a technique he had favored, since he didn't want Morgan's mind dulled to the pain and stress. Since he was already physically restrained, the only answer Morgan could come up with was that the drugs were necessary to compromise his mind. And that wasn't a comforting thought in the slightest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He would be rescued, wouldn't he? The hero team would definitely notice he was missing. They'd figure out what happened to him. He'd have to deal with Arthur's smug fucking face over rescuing his stupid ass again, but even that embarrassment was a vast improvement over whatever Salcedo had planned. There was no way Arthur would pass up the opportunity to preen and gloat over his heroism. He'd definitely go out of his way to rescue Morgan for that reason alone.

Unless he didn't.

Unless the hero team decided a half-reformed villain barely in control of his own powers wasn't worth it. Unless they were only putting up with him because it stopped him from being a nuisance. Unless they thought back on the things he'd done as a villain and decided he deserved whatever Salcedo had cooked up for him.

God fucking damn it.

He hated them sometimes. Hated their easy laughter and their camaraderie. Hated the way they awkwardly tried to include him in the group like a weird kid at recess. Hated Arthur's flawless smile, and his sickening dedication to doing the right thing, and how quick he was with a reassuring word, and how he worked so hard he had to practically be forced to rest --

Yeah, he hated them all, and they probably hated him too, and they'd be glad if Salcedo lobotomized him. He never should have defected in the first place. 

Morgan heard footsteps approaching the door, and shut his eyes again just as it opened. The sound of Salcedo's heavy combat boots approaching him was enough to send panic spiking through his heart, but he tried not to show it on his face, stubbornly pretending to be out still.

"I know you're awake, Morgan," said his former boss's deceptively smooth voice. "Don't embarrass yourself."

Morgan didn't twitch a muscle.

"You're a smart man. Or at least, I thought you were before you went and pulled this little stunt. The point is that you know very well where you stand right now."

So do whatever torture you came here to do and spare me your self-important monologuing, he thought. I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than listen to you.

"You betrayed me, Morgan."

Here it comes.

"I gave everything to you. An unhappy teenager from an unhappy home, like so many others, but you were different from them, weren't you? You had potential. You had brains. And most of all, you had that wonderful little gift of a power. And I gave you everything. I trained you, I funded your lab and your inventions, I gave you food and a roof over your head. I forgave you for all of your many mistakes with only... sensible punishments." 

Morgan tried not to flinch as Salcedo got even closer.

"And yet, you betrayed me."

Morgan tensed for Salcedo's fist a moment before it connected with his cheek, pain blossoming from his shattered cheekbone. The pain was chased by a warm stinging feeling, Salcedo's healing power, before he was cracked across the face again. Breaking faces only to heal them and break them again was one of Salcedo's signature moves, and Morgan could almost tune out the familiar beating, especially since the painkillers dampened the sensation. His ears were ringing, and he knew he'd be severely concussed with his face swollen beyond recognition if it weren't for Salcedo healing him after each punch, allowing him to prolong the beating as long as he liked.

It was only when Salcedo slowed down and gave Morgan's mind enough time to recover from the assault that he finally decided to crack his eyes open. "Is that all?" he said, knowing that his fate was sealed whether or not he provoked the supervillain.

"That was just your punishment for the time you broke into headquarters and damaged some of my henchmen and equipment," he said. "Your punishment for betrayal hasn't even started yet."

"Hm, let me guess what it will be. Is it punching me in the face? Or maybe you want to mix it up a bit and punch me in the kidneys. Or get spicy and kick me in the --"

With no change in expression, Salcedo grabbed Morgan's injured hand and twisted, the bones audibly cracking. Morgan couldn't retain his straight face, and a sad little whimper escaped from his lips.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to explain exactly what is going to happen to you. Anticipation is half the fun, you know," he said, the sickening green light from his fingertips mending Morgan's bones back into place, a process almost as painful as the initial injury. He pulled a capped syringe full of a clear liquid from his pocket.

"If you're banking on me being scared of needles..." Morgan bluffed while internally screaming. He'd rather have the beating. At least those were predictable.

"Of course not. I'm banking on you being scared of what Marcy in the chemistry department has been cooking up since you've been gone." He tapped the side of the syringe. "It's not quite a mind control drug, but it's a good start -- a combination of potent truth serum that dulls your mind, and a sedative that makes you highly suggestible. The tests we've conducted on henchmen have been most amusing."

"...So what? A truth serum? You think the hero team trusts me with some secret information? They don't. And they have official protocol to change out the passcodes when anyone's captured, so you're not going to get anything useful."

"Oh, Morgan, don't worry your pretty little head. I'm not expecting you to be useful for your information. I have much better plans than that." 

Morgan's struggles were futile as Salcedo pushed the syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger. He didn't know what the fuck Salcedo thought he was going to accomplish with this and didn't want to find out, and he especially didn't want his mind put out of commission for any length of time. 

Salcedo's smug face was both infuriating and unreadable. What was his game? Morgan knew he had better figure it out before -- before --

-- before whatever was in that syringe shifted his mind out of gear. He pulled against the restraints again, shaking his head, as though it would somehow stop or slow the deep fog settling in over his mind. His eyelids grew heavy and lidded as he blinked slowly up at his wretched former boss, the intense sense of dread muffled as it became more difficult to think clearly.

"That looks to be kicking in nicely. I'm guessing you're ready to tell the truth now. Just let it all out," said Salcedo, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Morgan wanted to spit in his fucking face, but instead... "Groggy. Out of it. What the fuck is in that stuff?"

"It's a miracle drug, isn't it? That's why Marcy is a star employee and you're an also-ran. I only wish I could use this on Arthur. See what the city's shining hope really has buried deep down inside."

"There isn't anything buried," said Morgan before he can think twice. "He really is just that fucking heroic. Makes me sick. ...And jealous." He shook his head again, trying to could do anything to clear that uncomfortable fog. He had the dim feeling that he hadn't meant to say all of that, that the drug was working, but he didn't seem able to resist. The words came out before he could measure them.

"Is that so?" Salcedo chuckled. "Is that why you betrayed me?"

"No, I betrayed you because you're a fucking miserable sack of dicks who beats me for fun," said Morgan, fire cutting through the fog. "You think consequences will never apply to you, that there will never be any repercussions for treating your henchmen like shit smeared on your shoe. I can't wait until they all turn on you. I hope they kick your fucking teeth in."

"How charming," said Salcedo in a strained voice. "Now, I realize you can't help expressing your true feelings while you're high off that drug I gave you, so it would be unfair of me to punish you." 

Then he smashed his fist across Morgan's mouth, allowing Morgan to cough up a mouthful of blood before healing him.

"Listen to me, Morgan," said Salcedo, this time grabbing his face with more force and purpose. "You will listen to me, and you will absorb everything I have to say."

"No, no --" Morgan tried to pull himself free, but he'd always been physically much weaker than his boss, and the drug cocktail wasn't helping.

"You've always been a villain, haven't you? I found you and I molded you int a villain, one capable of terrorizing the city on so many occasions. Have you forgotten that?"

"No..."

"And you enjoyed yourself. You loved making your gadgets, you loved watching the civilians scream and cower. You loved the feeling of power and control. And you still love it."

"I... I do..." he said. He'd been fighting so hard to suppress all of that lately, to show the hero team he could be more than just a villain, that he could do something helpful for a change... but deep down inside, a part of him missed laughing maniacally while riding some mechanical monstrosity through the city.

The truth was, heroics was fucking hard. Civilians were unpredictable and frequently ungrateful, and with the hero team, he was no longer allowed to blow them off and make them someone else's problem. He had to work had. He had to care.

"That's right, Morgan, you miss being a villain." Salcedo's voice was like a snake tightening around its prey. "It's all you were ever good for. It's all you'll ever be good for."

That was exactly what Morgan often felt late at night, in his bunk in the heroes' headquarters, wondering what the fuck he was doing there and how long it could last. "I'm..."

"It's all you'll ever be good for," said Salcedo with more force, letting it sink into Morgan's compromised brain.

"It's all I'll ever be good for," he repeated in a dull voice, resistance crumbling. 

"You hate trying to be a hero. It's too hard. You're awful at it. You're tired, and you want to give up. You want to give in."

He really was so, so tired. "I want... I want to give up..."

"You hate working with the hero team," Salcedo hissed in his ear. "You're jealous of them, aren't you? How they're praised and fawned over while you rot in the shadows, fighting for the smallest scraps of recognition. How they don't trust you."

"I..." A memory flashed through his mind. Arthur convincing him to join in on the team's horror movie night. Julie, the youngest, screaming, while Toshiro criticized the effects. Laughing, eating popcorn, forgetting for a moment who and what he was.

He couldn't forget for long. He could see it in their eyes, in their hesitance, how fragile the trust was.

"You'll never be one of them. They'll never trust you. You're a villain, and that's all you'll ever be."

It was true, wasn't it? They would never trust him. He'd escaped Salcedo, only to spend his time scraping and clawing to get the hero team's trust. Fighting to be something he wasn't, when he knew, he knew, he'd never be good enough for them.

And this was the proof, wasn't it? They weren't coming to rescue him. No one was coming to rescue him.

"You hate them, Morgan. I know you do. You hate them more than anything."

"I... I hate..." The corrupting voice was twisting his thoughts, making it hard to think anything but what he was told.

"That's right," he coaxed. "You hate them. And you hate Arthur most of all."

Arthur. That's right, he hated Arthur. Arthur with his perfect smile. Arthur with his words of encouragement. Arthur telling Morgan that he believed in him, believed he could be something better, as though he had any right. 

Arthur, who probably knew by now that he was wrong, that Morgan was no better than any other villain, who wouldn't be lifting a finger to rescue him from the trap he'd inevitably found himself in.

"You hate Arthur," Salcedo insisted.

"I..."

It should be so easy. It was the truth: he did hate Arthur. And he hadn't been able to resist the serum up until now. Why was he choking on these words?

"You. Hate. Arthur."

"Of course I don't hate you," said Arthur, once, on a quiet, moonlit night, sitting on top of a building, guarding a museum from an impending heist. "You're a clever guy and a hard worker, and you can do the right thing when it really matters. And the villainy? I'm not saying it's okay, because it definitely wasn't, but I get where it comes from. I do. Any of us powered people could've gone down the same path."

"I don't," said Morgan under his breath.

"What was that?"

Morgan's voice caught again. He did hate Arthur. Hated how much he wished he could see Arthur's dumb fucking face as he kicked down the door. Hated how much he wanted to be in the heroes' infirmary, with Arthur checking up on him and delivering a snack or book of puzzles, instead of here.

He hated how Arthur made him want to be something more than just a villain, and how fucking hard it was, all the time.

"I don't hate Arthur," Morgan said more clearly, unable to stop it. "I want to hate him, because it'd make everything so much easier, but I don't. I can't."

Salcedo recoiled in disbelief, a look of shock and disgust on his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake. You can't be fucking serious. He hates you, you know. He's foiled your plans so many times --"

"He doesn't hate me," said Morgan with more confidence. "He said it himself, every time I asked him. And he doesn't fuck around with that kind of thing. If he says it, he means it. It's infuriating."

"Fucking hell. I suspected, but --" Salcedo grabbed Morgan by the front of his flimsy medical gown, pulling him close enough that he could feel hot breath on his face. "Are you in love with him?!"

Morgan froze.

No. Fuck no. That's what he wanted to say. No, obviously not.

But he couldn't.

His head pounded.

"I don't know."

"You. Don't. Know?" Salcedo screamed in his face.

"I don't know!" The fog in his head was so thick, making it impossible for him to think through his words. "I don't know how I feel about him -- or about anything -- or if I'm even capable of --"

Salcedo grabbed his head and slammed it against the medical bed, sending his ears ringing. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! The one fucking thing I wanted you for, the one fucking thing you were going to be good at and you can't even do that right -- what kind of useless, idiot villain can't even hate the man who beats him into the ground once a week --" His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Oh hell, maybe you actually like that. I bet you do. Fucking little freak."

Morgan ignored the insult, trying to push aside the insinuations that he really, really didn't want to think about in this state. Salcedo had wanted him for something. There was a point to all of this apart from psychological torment. He tried to grasp that thought with his slippery mind, recognizing its importance. "What were you going to have me do?"

"Be a sleeper agent. Stoke the fires of hatred within you. Let the hero team rescue you, pretend everything was normal, and then when their guards were down, kill them all."

His chest tightened. "No -- I don't want to -- I won't!"

"Oh, it's beyond obvious you won't. I can see that now. You're not only useless, you're fucking delusional. So it's on to plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Remember these?" Salcedo held up a glass vial. Tiny, iridescent insects were flitting around inside, crawling up the glass and bumping against the lid.

Morgan surged forward in the restraints. "My babies!" he said, in the tone of someone reuniting with a long lost pet. He certainly did remember them -- his mechanical mosquitoes, one of his favorite inventions, which he'd had to leave behind during his semi-involuntary heroic turn. These small drones were easy for Morgan to control with his technological powers. They could be used for surveillance or distraction, equipped with tiny tools, or used to inject small amounts of potent drugs, incapacitating enemies and guards with sedatives or hallucinogens. On one memorable occasion, he'd laced them with the common cold, ensuring that the heroes would stay home while he raided the semiconductor factory. Good memories.

"They're my 'babies' now, I'm afraid," said Salcedo, pulling the vial further out of reach. "It took a while to override your protocols and reprogram them, but I think the effect will be worth it. You always used them for disgustingly non-lethal purposes. I've always wanted to change that."

He shrank back, not liking where this was going. 

"They're fitted with a potent and especially painful neurotoxin, but they won't sting you immediately. No, they're programmed to hide in your clothing until disturbed. When Arthur comes to save you, that's when you'll get the privilege of watching his excruciating death, knowing he died in agony trying to save you."

"No, no, there's no way. He's not even going to come save me, you know, he's --"

"Oh, you fool. He's already on his way." Salcedo shoved a gag into Morgan's mouth, clasping it firmly shut. "Don't want you warning him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important business." He opened the vial, and the little mosquito drones flew out and nestled in Morgan's medical gown, in the restraints, even in his hair. With his power suppressed, he was helpless to control them. He could only watch as Salcedo left the room.

Morgan screamed through the gag, accomplishing nothing but straining his throat. He had to come up with some sort of plan, but his head was swimming from stress and drugs and he couldn't hold on to any one thought long enough to formulate a strategy. 

It didn't matter. Salcedo was wrong. No one was coming to rescue him.

...He must be imagining the sounds of a fight, drawing closer...

Prev > Masterlist

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedmidnight @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @sowhumpshaped @sparrowsage @sunshiline-writes @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @i-eat-worlds @a-formless-entity

[emmabirb8]

I'm STILL reeling over the pure uncut and undeniably heartwarming aspects of this week's episode you guyssss

Nandor putting in time and effort to help Colin Robinson feed and then having a small emotional breakdown when he passed out and immediately bringing him to Laszlo? Laszlo and Nandor working together to get Colin re-energized? Colin then spending the time to transfer back some of the energy he siphoned from Nandor to bring him back to normal? Nadja actually taking Guillermo to get help for his broken foot? Nadja going absolutely fucking FERAL to protect Guillermo's life??? Guillermo unabashedly gushing over how much he loves everyone at that house while simultaneously lovingly insulting them? Nadja and Laszlo keeping Guillermo's secret from Nandor, someone they have lived with and loved for literal centuries???

I think it's safe to say none of us were expecting the wholesomeness, but MAN is it so fucking satisfying.

Aside from all that tho, I also want to discuss the possible implications and significance of Nadja defending Guillermo so fiercely and the episode culminating in Nandor getting serious and a little angry for a moment. Because I think this episode's storyline specifically served to foreshadow Nadja and Laszlo having to protect and defend Guillermo against Nandor, who might fly into a blind rage as a result of what he would almost surely interpret as a devastating betrayal. His deep hurt from discovering the truth might overpower every other rational thought, and he might very well try to kill Guillermo even though we all know he wouldn't really want to.

And if this ends up being the case, it will be SUCH an interesting parallel and contrast to the opening of season 3, where the situation was reversed - where Nandor spent an entire MONTH fighting to protect Guillermo's life against Nadja and Laszlo's murderous intentions.

THE LOVE IS STRONG AND SO SO REAL, THE STAKES ARE HIGH, AND I AM TERRIFIED

[recreationalfanfics]

Loki w a Krul Tepes! Reader

She could literally step on me and I'd say thank you-

BUT ALSO, LIKE, I NEEDED TO WRITE THESE DOWN REAL QUICK BECAUSE I'M OBSESSED W KRUL SO READER BEING SOMEONE WITH HER MANNERISMS AND MAYBE HER IMMACULATE SENSE OF STYLE. And Loki being down horrendously.

- While you might not have been a God, you were still a powerful ally to have in the battle against humanity and by that, you were going to protect humanity...After all, you and your people needed the livestock

- This is not the first time he's met you and he's very much convinced that you two are soulmates. Even though it's quite obvious that he kinda annoys you. He reminds you of a certain white-haired progenitor sometimes

- Although you wouldn't deny that when he isn't trying to disrupt your work, you've found his company enjoyable and entertaining in the past and he helped take your mind off of your duties when they felt too stressful.

- Ah, but then Ragnarok showed up and while you detested humanity and their cruelty towards you, you still sadly relied on them to survive so now you stand against the Gods and fight for humanity.

- "You know, you don't HAVE to rely on humanity, you can just drink my blood~" Loki purred, once more trying to convince you to change sides. You rolled your eyes and smiled, "You seem to be forgetting about the REST of my people who need humans to drink from."

- "Think of it as a plus! You wouldn't have to be so stressed and you'll have more time to focus on me!"

- You just walk away while trying to hide your amused chuckle from the God of Mischief.

- PLEASE, HE ABSOLUTELY LOVES TO MESS WITH ARUKANU. He'll steal your little bat creature and either threaten it playfully like how he does with Odin's birds to get your attention or he'll just be all: "If you wanna give it back, you'll have to give me a kiss~"

- Then the next thing he knows, he's on his knees and you're standing behind him, his head turned back and his violent eyes looking up into yours as your sharp nails threateningly yet gently dig them into his throat, warning him that you could rip his head off in a second.

- It's so exciting~

- NO BUT HE DOES GET JEALOUS OF THE MORTALS YOU DRINK FROM. They have the audacity to complain or look fearful and ungrateful (you don't even kill them or take too much from them) when Loki gets shivers at the very thought of you sinking your fangs into his neck.

- UGH, HE LOVES SEEING YOUR FIGHT. The God you go up against was doomed from the start, he knew that from the get go. Especially when they started to mock you and say things like: "Go back underground, little Queen. Just because you're stronger than humans doesn't mean you compare to us GODS!" and it made Loki laugh.

- "What's so amusing, Loki?"

- "Oh, nothing, Lord Zeus.~ Just the fact that I sadly think us Gods are gonna take another loss." He answers, not seemingly to upset at the idea as he watches the irrated look on your face from the words of the arrogant god.

- He also gets a thrill from how sneaky you are♡ No one else truly knows what you're thinking, not even Loki himself, and the fact you were willing to betray and turn on anyone made him absolutely certain you two were meant to be.

- When you actually decide to get into a relationship, no one knows if its because one of you are manipulating the other or if it's genuine love.

- Also, you're the only person he genuinely respects, yes he will tease you but if he's causing a fuss and you tell him to stop, he'll smile and immediately fly over to follow you like the lovesick puppy he is.

- And it is genuine love, just a twisted version of it.

- He is aware of your weakness to the sun without your UV band, so let's say that a God wants to get even with you and tries to rip it off, Loki will literally grab their hand and smile at them but there is only rage in his eyes as he's all: "I wouldn't do that if I were you~"

- People don't think you guys care about each other but if your UV band somehow broke, Loki using his cape to shield you and you're surprised but you thank him. AND THEN HE WRAPS HIS ARM AROUND YOU TO HOLD YOU CLOSE AND IF YOU TRY TO PUSH YOURSELF OFF OF HIM, HE'S ALL: "ah, ah! I'm just making sure my vampire queen is safe♡ I would hate to see you burn up." and you give up and let him use this as an excuse to cuddle you.

- And if a human talks badly about Loki, you just smile at them menacingly before being all: "Hmm, he may be a bit childish but watch the way you talk about him. He is still my lover after all."

- NAH BC AS MUCH AS HE WANTS YOU TO BITE HIM, HE WILL BITE YOU TOO. Like, just love bites that take you off gaurd and he chuckles as his teeth gently sink into your neck but then you sigh and pat his head.

- He's such a needy lover but you suppose that's what makes him endearing.

[1800-fight-me]

Broken Vows Part Two

Part One Part Three Epilogue

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Explicit sex, infidelity, angst (also some fluff!), canon level sexism, the reader is a lady of a great house but the house is unspecified and the reader has no description. (As a forewarning, though this story has dark themes and tons of angst it absolutely will have a happy ending!)

Word count: A little over 6k

Synopsis: How long will you be able to hide your son’s true parentage and control your desires for Aemond?

Author’s note: Part two is finally here!! There will be a part three!! Thank you so so much to my lovely beta readers @just-here-for-the-moment and @lady-phasma y’all are the best!! P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist           Part Three Sneak Peek

“You asked for me, mother?” Aemond said as he strode into Alicent’s quarters. 

“Yes, sit with me,” she said as she reached her hand out to him and smiled gently. 

He placed his hand in hers and squeezed it softly as he sat on the couch next to her. 

“I have news and wanted to share it with you before you heard it from any others,” she said. 

He nodded and waited for her to continue. 

“Lady Stark has given birth to a child. A son,” she said carefully as she attempted to gauge her son’s reaction. 

Aemond pursed his lips and swallowed as he processed the information. 

He nodded once again. 

“We should offer the Starks our congratulations on their happy news,” he said, his voice rough with concealed emotion. 

“I have already sent a letter. It was only about eight or nine months ago she was here in person,” she said. 

“Hm.” 

“Aemond,” she sighed. 

He stared at her as his mind churned like the sea with this new information. 

“I know you have always loved her,” Alicent said gently. 

“Hm,” Aemond clenched his jaw and turned his face to avoid her gaze. 

“Tell me my fears are not true,” she begged. 

“What fears do you speak of, mother?” he asked, his voice hard, though he of course knew what she meant. 

“I do not wish to say it for fear it is true,” she said as she looked at her brokenhearted son. 

“Then there is nothing to say. I shall take my leave, I have responsibilities that need to be attended to,” he said as he stood swiftly. 

“Aemond,” she protested as she grabbed his arm. 

He swallowed and pursed his lips before he turned back to face her. 

At the barely concealed anguish on his face she sighed and let him go. 

Aemond marched straight to the training courtyard for his thoughts were swirling and spiraling and he was unable to make sense of his emotions. 

Sir Criston was there and after a few curt words they began to spar. 

Aemond’s chest heaved as he blocked and parried Sir Criston’s blows. He couldn’t decide if he was trying to avoid his feelings or straighten his thoughts enough to sort through them. 

Hours passed and his sparring partner changed multiple times but still Aemond did not stop. 

Sweat dripped down his face as he fought and fought and fought. 

He raged against the need inside him to call upon Vaghar and fly north immediately. 

The last man in the courtyard bowed out and called the fighting to an end. 

Aemond stood alone with only the moon as a light. 

He threw down his weapons and stomped his way to the dragon pit. 

He resisted the urge to punch the stone wall for it would surely only break his hand and not offer the relief he was looking for if hours of training were any indication. 

Soon he and Vaghar soared through the skies. 

An experience that usually brought him peace and comfort, but now did little in the face of the torment his soul currently faced. 

Good gods, what had he fucking done. 

There was, of course, a chance the child was not his. 

What was he doing, was he going to fly to Winterfell and start a war by taking away Lord Stark’s wife? 

You should be his. He despised the circumstances life had put you and him in. 

He should be there to hold you and his child and kiss you both. 

If the child was not his, he felt nearly just as broken hearted at the thought. You should be his wife and bear his children and be filled with his love and care. 

Vaghar reached the border to the North and cold pelting rain began to pour. 

With gasping breaths Aemond commanded her to land. 

He climbed off and slid to his knees on the muddy ground. 

The rain streaked down his face along with tears. 

He could not go to Winterfell and take you away. He could not start a war over a child he was not sure was his and any attempts to see you and the babe would endanger you more than he already had with his reckless love led actions. 

As he screamed in anguish, Vaghar roared in empathy for her broken rider.

_______________________

One month later 

“My lady, here are some letters for you,” your lady’s maid Brienne said after you laid your sleeping son down in his crib. 

“Oh, thank you, you can put them on the desk there. I’ll look through them later,” you said. 

“I think you want to look at this now and not leave it lying around,” she said, her voice strongly toned. 

You looked up at her in surprise as she placed the letters on your desk but handed one of them to you. 

You gasped softly as you recognized the handwriting and seal upon it. 

“I see,” you murmured. 

She stared at you, and with a loving but reprimanding tone she told you she was taking her leave to give you privacy. 

The letter was addressed to you, though it was written with your maiden name rather than addressed to Lady Stark. 

You took a deep breath. 

You opened it with shaking hands and saw the one worded message. 

“Congratulations,” it stated in a careful cursive scrawl you were all too familiar with from years of passing childhood notes. 

It was signed, “Aemond Targaryen”. 

Your heart pounded as your fingers grazed the letters your lover had written. He had made a carefully calculated decision when he wrote and sent you this letter. 

He had not put anything incriminating in it, though it was certainly suspicious on its own for you to receive a personal letter from the prince. 

But you knew what this letter meant. It meant that he knew. He knew you had a child and at the very least he suspected it was his. He was also, in the most formal way he could, offering you his love and affection for your efforts to bear a child. You wished you could tell him that your son was his. 

You could not send him any sort of confirmation or acknowledgement back, it was too dangerous. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as your heart burned from his loving gesture. 

You hid the letter in a drawer and pulled it out and traced the words again and again when you missed him. 

_______________________

Two years later 

“No,” you said stubbornly. 

“Do my ears deceive me? Surely you did not refuse your Lord Husband,” Cregon seethed at you through clenched teeth. 

“I said, no,” you said as you glared at him. 

“It is a royal decree! We must go! You cannot refuse the King! We have already turned down two royal invitations from both the Queen Regent and the Queen Mother since our son was born, all due to your excuses” he yelled as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. 

“Fine, then you go without me,” you said and he sighed deeply. 

“Woman, your stubbornness knows no bounds. If you wish to remain in Winterfell then I suppose Eddard and I can-” 

“No. You will not take my son away from me. He is only two years old. He needs his mother. You can go yourself,” you said angrily. 

“The King requested our entire family! Not just me! What is this sudden change in attitude you appear to have? I thought you had fond memories of your childhood in the Red Keep, do you not wish to visit again? Your father will be there. He is ill and it is unlikely you will have many more chances to see him before his life ends.” 

“My father is the last person I want to see. You would know that if you knew anything at all about me,” you practically spat at him. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I am the Lord of this house and you will obey my words. We will all depart for King’s Landing in a week’s time. That is final,” he said as he left your chambers and slammed the door behind him. 

You collapsed into the closest chair and buried your face in your hands as you attempted to take deep calming breaths. 

You feared that the dangerous game you’d been playing of hiding your child’s parentage could soon be over once he was seen in the same room as his true father. 

Though the child was a near copy of you, his silver hair and the shape of his lips clearly marked him as Aemond’s child. 

As you lived in the cold north you frequently kept a hat on his head so rumors would not spread but that would prove impossible in the warm climate of King’s Landing. 

Rumors that you were an overprotective mother and that he was a sickly child due to you always keeping him bundled up and close to you ran rampant, but according to Brienne, there were no speculations on his parentage. Truly, she was one of the few people who had ever seen the color of his hair including your husband and the maesters. 

You decided to cut his hair shorter prior to the trip, it would not hide the color but perhaps it would draw the eye less. 

Gods help you. 

Weeks later, your nerves frayed as the carriage you and your son were in grew closer and closer to the Red Keep. 

“Listen to me, my little dragon heart,” you whispered at your son as he sat in your lap, grateful that your husband had decided to ride in the front of the group rather than in your carriage for the last leg of the trip. 

He looked up at you, his face solemn and so like the expressions you used to frequently see on Aemond. 

“You are to stay close to me, okay? This is a new place and I want you by my side always,” you urged and he nodded. 

He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled close into your chest. 

“Hold hands?” he asked 

You grinned at his adorable question and nodded. 

“Yes, when we leave the carriage we shall hold hands,” you said and placed a kiss to the top of his head. 

You pulled a light hat onto his head and hoped he would keep it on until you got to your rooms. 

Finally the carriage stopped and with your son on your hip you took your husband’s hand and stepped out into the courtyard of the Red Keep. 

You looked up to see the Queen Mother and the Queen Consort there to greet you. 

You took a deep breath and gulped. 

As you walked forward, your son wiggled out of your arms. You placed him on the ground and held his hand to allow him to toddle next to you as you strode towards the queens. 

Heleana clearly still cared little for decorum as she immediately embraced you. 

“Hello dear friend,” you said to her as you hugged her back. 

“It has once again been far too long,” she said and you agreed with her. 

“Hello Lord and Lady Stark, you are most welcome here,” Alicent said as you and Helaena ended your embrace. 

You smiled and curtseyed and she smiled back. 

“Thank you, my queens, we are happy for our long travels to be over,” Cregon said politely. 

“The King regrets that he could not be here to receive you, he had urgent matters to attend to, but will surely see you at the feast this evening,” Alicent said and your husband nodded. 

Alicent then embraced you while Helaena knelt down and greeted your son. 

“It is good to see you,” she whispered to you. 

“You as well,” you said. 

She pulled back and with a look at your son asked you, “May I?” 

You nodded nervously as she picked up your son and looked at him. 

“Hello, handsome,” she said to him with a gentle smile. 

“Hi!” he said with a grin. 

“It is far too warm for this hat,” she said in concern with a glance at you and then pulled it off his head. 

You held in your protests and when she saw his hair, she did not look at you in shock. 

She ran a hand over his full head of snow white hair as she smiled and made cooing noises at him. 

“He is a beautiful boy,” she said as she handed him to you, and her gaze lingered on you, far too knowing. 

“Thank you, your grace,” you said, your heart still in your throat. 

You were led into your rooms, again the same room you grew up in, with your husband’s room next door. 

You were quickly settled, though your nerves seemed to be unable to settle as easily. 

Thankfully your father sent you a messenger to tell you he was feeling too ill to attend tonight’s feast. At least you could delay that confrontation for another day. Though your father was a stubborn and unkind man, he was not an idiot and would immediately know your child was sired by Aemond rather than your husband once he saw him. 

That night at the feast you were quiet and reserved as you attempted to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. A feat that was markedly more difficult due to Aemond’s stares. 

It was clear he wanted to speak with you, though he would not do so in front of others. 

Your son was not allowed at the feast, thankfully this was an event without children, but rather than allowing the castle servants to care for him, he was safely tucked away in your chambers with Brienne. The fewer people in the Red Keep that saw him, the better. 

Your desire for Aemond was kept better in control due to your need for survival and the importance of the safety of your child. 

Both your lives could be forfeit should your husband discover your betrayal and treachery. 

So, you avoided Aemond’s gaze and other than a cursory nod during the initial greetings, you refused to acknowledge him. 

His fire still burned within you, however. If only you could fall into his arms, introduce him to his child that you love so dearly, be his and his alone. 

But you could not dwell on what could have, or perhaps even should have, been. 

Toasts made their rounds and Cregon and several other noblemen paid their tributes to the King. 

Your hopes that this dull affair would end quickly were dashed when Aemond stood and raised his cup as he stared at your husband. 

Then he looked at you. You stopped breathing. 

He said your name, not your title, your first name, and it sounded all too familiar as it fell from his lips. 

“To you and Lord Stark,” he purred, you knew he would never refer to you as Lady Stark for in his mind you were and always would be his. 

“And the son you have brought into this world, the little Lord Stark, I hear he is exceptionally handsome. Congratulations,” he said, voice like silk but dripping with cockiness. 

Everyone toasted with him and you took a large gulp of your wine. 

You schooled your expression and did everything in your power not to glare at the prince. 

You nodded back at him. 

“Thank you, my prince! What kind words!” Cregon said as he patted your shoulder and grinned, oblivious and stupid as ever. 

Of course he did not pick up on Aemond’s veiled intentions, either to jab at your husband or to get a rise out of you to test his already rapidly forming assumptions. 

You forced a smile at him and Aemond, who smirked before he sat back down in his seat. 

After the feast, you returned to your quarters to find little Ned already fast asleep in his adjoining room. You dismissed Brienne gratefully for the night after she helped you undress and put on your nightgown. 

You were thankful that your husband had a separate room next door and that he did not attempt to bother you that night. 

You fell asleep, thoughts full of Aemond and the heated looks he sent you. 

You felt the bed behind you shift as someone laid down behind you. 

A large hand was placed on your waist and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Not tonight, Cregon,” you practically hissed in anger that you were now awake. 

“I find myself offended that you would mistake me for that piece of shit,” you heard Aemond’s voice say behind you and you gasped. 

You rolled over quickly and saw his face in the flickering firelight. 

“What are you doing here?” you whisper- yelled. 

You didn’t need to ask him how he snuck into your rooms for he had done so nearly nightly through the hidden tunnels in your shared youth. 

“I thought you would be happy to see me,” he said as he smirked at you and gripped your waist a little tighter. 

“After the shit you pulled at dinner?” you snapped at him and he chuckled darkly. 

“Tell me the truth of it. My mother is correct, yes? The child is mine. I would like to see him.” 

He pulled your body close to him so your chest was flush against his. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered as you shook your head. 

“You look beautiful tonight, dear heart,” he murmured as he ran his nose against your cheek. 

“You endanger me and my son,” you whispered as your body began to shake with need for him. 

The heat of his body against yours, his familiar scent, the comfort of his large calloused hand on your waist, all combined made your head swirl as if you were drunk on him. 

“Our son,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours. 

You could not hold yourself back from kissing him with passion and desperation. 

“Hm,” he hummed, clearly pleased, as he pulled himself back from you. 

“Tell me, my love. I want to hear it from your perfect lips,” he whispered as gently ran his fingers up your arm and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“Yes, Aemond,” you gasped out as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. He gently pushed you back so you laid on your back and covered your body with his. 

“He is your son, the child was born of our love,” you whispered the forbidden truth and he groaned in response as his lips trailed down your neck. 

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to your wanting lips. 

“I will protect you both,” he vowed and you nodded with tears in your eyes. 

His hands roamed your body possessively as his lips trailed down, lower. 

“I am still cross with you,” you said with a gasp, though it was difficult to sound serious as your body was filled with the pleasure only he can provide you. 

“Be cross with me. Tell me of it. Yell at me. Break my heart. Just be with me, allow me to be in your presence, allow me to love you. I thought I could survive this life without you, but I find it unbearable. Be mine, and mine alone,” he said passionately between kisses to your chest and stomach as he rucked up your nightgown, his voice low and fervent.

Your eyes filled with tears.

“Yes,” you gasped out.  

His mouth reached near your core and you tangled your fingers in his hair and forced him to look at you, to meet your gaze. 

“My heart has always, always, belonged to you and you alone. But tell me, my love. How do we survive this? How do we-” 

“Leave it to me,” he said darkly and he spread your legs before he licked you exactly where you so desperately wanted him. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered and you slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans of pleasure as he gave you what you’d been dreaming of for years. 

“Good gods, I have craved your taste,” he groaned deeply into your dripping heat. 

You whimpered. 

His tongue circled your clit and your breath sped up as you neared your peak far quicker than you ever had before. Your body was desperate for him and just his presence was enough to make you come. 

“I’m going to-” 

He pulled back and you gasped in shock and anger that he would stop when you were so close. 

You sat up to better meet his gaze and he smirked. 

“Tell me you are mine,” he commanded. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“I’m yours, yours, only yours, my love,” you whimpered. 

He growled low in his throat in satisfaction before he buried himself between your legs again. 

You fell back onto your back again and bit down on your hand to muffle your sounds as you came harder than you had in years. 

You panted as you attempted to catch your breath, but he didn’t give you any time as he crawled his way up your body and kissed you deeply. 

You wrapped your legs around his trim waist and he buried his hardened length deep inside you.

He moaned into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours. 

“You feel so good, so fucking perfect,” you groaned. 

“As do you, my love,” he murmured with a kiss to your jaw. 

He began slow thrusts that made you feel so perfectly full you couldn’t stop yourself from whining his name. 

Your hands roamed his body, you relished  in the feeling of his skin against yours and his tight muscles as he moved within you. 

“You are mine,” you whispered to him and he sped his thrusts as he groaned deeply.  

He hit the spot inside you that made your brain go fuzzy and you moaned loudly. 

He covered your mouth with his large hand and began to pound into you. 

You continued to whine, but your sounds were now muffled. 

No other words were needed as you stared deeply into his eye and his sapphire eye glimmered in the low firelight. 

You watched pleasure overtake his expression as he grew closer to his release. 

He pulled out of you and stroked himself, only a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, before he came and his seed spread across your stomach and chest. 

You reached for his arm and grabbed it before you yanked him down on top of you again and kissed him soundly. 

“I love you,” you whispered to him. 

“You are the love of my life,” he murmured and kissed you again. 

———

“I wish to see him,” Aemond whispered in your ear as his fingers traced gentle patterns across your bare stomach. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as it draped across his shoulder and spilled onto your chest and said, “I know, but it is late. And he is asleep.” 

“I will be quiet,” he said and you nodded, unable to keep him from his child, your own selfish heart also desired to see him meet his son for the first time. 

“Get dressed, then,” you said as you reached for your nightgown and placed it back on your body. 

He was quickly dressed and you took his hand and led him to the door that joined your room with little Ned’s. 

“Do not wake him, he is starting to speak and if he babbles something to Cregon about a white haired man in his room at night there will be hell to pay,” you whispered and Aemond smirked and nodded. 

You cracked open the door and as you saw him still sleeping you led your love into the room. 

You smiled as you looked upon your child sleeping so peacefully. 

You then looked up at Aemond and saw that he had unshed tears in his eye. 

“He is perfect. He looks so much like you, my love,” Aemond whispered as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You bit your lip as joyous tears made their way down your cheeks. 

“He looks like you as well, sometimes he looks at me and I swear he wears the exact same expressions as you,” you whispered with a smile in your voice. 

Aemond chuckled softly in joyous wonder. 

You tugged on his hand and led him back into your room and shut the door quietly behind you. 

Aemond was staring at you in awe. 

“When no one is around I call him my little dragon heart,” you said to him with a small, almost bashful, smile. 

He stepped closer to you and kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away. 

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth as he led you back to your bed. 

His hands shed you of your clothing at breakneck speeds and you could hardly breathe as he gripped your waist and pushed you back onto the bed. 

“Aemond,” you gasped. 

“I love you,” he said again, his tone strong as he laid himself atop you and kissed you desperately. 

His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned as his fire once again filled you. 

“Aemond, I love you as well, but slow down-”, you whispered as he pulled back with a wild look in his eye. 

“I wish, no I need to fill you again. I need to fill you with my child again,” he panted and you could not deny the rush of arousal that flooded you at his words. 

“My love, we cannot. We must continue to take precautions. One white haired Stark child is dangerous enough, but two?” 

He took a deep breath and nodded. You placed your hand on his cheek and he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“Soon, I swear to you, I will remedy this and you and our child will be mine and mine alone. And I will fill you with my children until I can see you round with my child myself,” he promised and you whimpered in desire. 

“That is my true desire,” you said and he kissed you, softly this time. 

“You are perfect and so is our beautiful son you have brought into this world.” he said and you smiled. 

“My prince, how you flatter me,” you teased. 

“Hm,” was his only response before he kissed you again until you couldn’t think of any more teasing retorts. 

_____________

“Do you wish things could be different?” Helaena asked you the next morning as you sat in the private sanctuary of the Godswood with her, her children, and your child. 

You basked in the warm sunlight, something you got so little of in the north. 

“What does wishing do but cause pain?” you asked her and she nodded. 

Her children giggled as they ran around little Ned and he toddled after them. 

“Are there things you wish were different?” you asked her curiously. 

“I wish you were here more often, none of the other ladies of court are as kind as you,” she confessed and you reached over and squeezed her hand. 

“Truthfully, I wish for that as well.” 

“The children seem to be getting along well,” she observed and you laughed. 

“Yes, Ned doesn’t often get to play with other children so he’s thrilled.” 

“He’s so cute!” Jaehaera squealed as Ned giggled and chased after her. 

“Mother, is he our cousin?” Jaehaerys asked Helaena. 

You pursed your lips, you were worried something like this might happen. 

“No, he is a Stark,” his mother replied and he just stared at her confused. 

“But he looks like us? I thought only Targaryens had white hair,” he said with a bluntness that only children can achieve. 

You coughed awkwardly. 

“Uncle Aemond!” Jaehaera yelled in excitement as Aemond walked towards the group of you. 

The twins squealed and ran to him and little Ned trailed after them once again, but fell down and sat there while he watched them. 

“Hello, little ones, are you enjoying your day?” he asked them as both twins clung to each of his legs. 

They babbled over one another, each talking rapidly, and he grinned. 

“Uncle, uncle, look! Look at our new friend, little Ned! Isn’t he the cutest?” 

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys ran back to Ned and grabbed each of his hands and led him to Aemond. 

Aemond knelt down on the ground and smiled softly. 

“Hello,” he said gently.

Ned looked back at you and you nodded at him encouragingly. 

“Say Hi, Ned,” you urged and he grinned. 

“Hi!” he exclaimed and then promptly reached out and yanked Aemond’s long hair. 

You placed a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. 

Aemond chuckled as he reached out and detangled his hair from Ned’s chubby little fingers. 

“You are trouble, handsome boy,” Aemond teased and Ned and the other children giggled. 

Ned then ran over to you and threw himself on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair and hugged him.

“Did you say hello to Prince Aemond, my little dragon heart?” you asked him and he nodded at you with a grin. 

You did not miss the way Helaena looked at you in surprise at your words, but chose to ignore her for you knew she would never betray you and Aemond. 

The twins continued to bounce around Aemond as he strode over to where you and Helaena were sitting. 

“Aem-” Ned tried to say but looked at you in confusion as he forgot the second half of the word. 

“Aemond,” you said to him, slowly so he could imitate you and pronounce it. 

“Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked you cheekily and you smirked at him. 

“Aemond,” Ned said slowly and actually pronounced the word correctly. 

“Good job, my love,” you said and you kissed him on the cheek. 

“It is my name, do I not get a kiss as well?” Aemond asked and you shot him a reprimanding look that caused him to smirk. 

Your son slid from your lap and walked over to Aemond where he sat next to Helaena and climbed onto his lap with unexpected boldness. 

Aemond smiled and pushed his hair behind his shoulders where it would be safe from little hands before he held onto his son. 

You pressed your lips together and attempted to control your emotions as you watched your son sit on his father’s lap for the first time. 

“Aemond,” Ned said again as he reached for his father’s face. Aemond allowed the boy to caress his cheek and then did the same back to him. 

“Are you alright?” Helaena whispered to you and you realized you were crying. 

You sniffled and quickly wiped away the stray tears. 

“Yes of course,” you whispered back but as Aemond met your gaze you could tell he was feeling emotional as well. 

Soon, your son, being a typical little boy, got bored and wiggled off Aemond’s lap to once again run around with the twins. 

Aemond spent the better part of an hour with you, Helaena, and the children, and you felt happier than you had been in years. 

Before you left, you looked up at the Red Keep and saw your husband where he stood and watched you from a balcony. Your heart jumped into your throat and you worried about what all he had seen and whether or not he would put the pieces together and become doubtful and suspicious of you. 

He turned and left as soon as he saw you spotted him. 

________________

Your husband strode into your room that evening. 

You looked up at him in surprise. 

Honestly, you hadn’t seen much of him the entirety of this trip and you liked it that way. You also hoped against hope that he had only spotted you and Ned in the Godswood after Aemond left. 

“Good evening,” you said to him as he sat in the chair opposite you before the hearth. 

Ned sat on the floor and played with toys while he babbled. 

“I came to inform you that we shall be departing for Winterfell earlier than planned,” he said. 

“Why?” you asked carefully. 

“First you did not want to come and now you do not wish to leave? Is there no pleasing you, woman?” he asked sharply. 

You took a deep steadying breath to quell your temper. 

“Aemond,” Ned said with a giggle. 

Your heart stopped and you felt as if you could vomit from the tension. 

Cregon looked at him in shock and then at you with anger. 

“Why is he talking about the prince?” he asked, danger in his voice. 

“Oh, we spent time with the queen and her children today and the prince came for a while. He was learning all their names and it seems the prince’s name was easiest for him to remember and pronounce,” you said as casually as you could. 

“I see,” he said as if he didn’t believe you at all. 

“And did the king happen to come by as well?” he asked. 

You snorted, “Of course not.” 

“What is it you have against the king?” he asked in an accusing tone. 

You sighed. “I told you he is dangerous and you need to be careful around him.” 

“And what of the one eyed prince? Many say he is cruel and dangerous as well, yet you appear to be fine with him being near our son,” he said angrily. 

“I-I had no choice. What am I to say to a prince of the realm?” 

He huffed and glared at you, but you knew it meant he had no retort back and you had won the argument. 

His suspicion, however, worried and stressed you. 

You had told him, years ago, that you and Aemond were close as children like everyone said, but had a falling out when you were older so he would not question the tension between the two of you and instead write it off as being due to residual anger and hurt feelings. 

It seemed that lie was no longer enough to dissuade his concerns. Your marriage was a teetering tower of lies that only a gust of wind could topple. 

“The festivities come to a close tomorrow, we leave the day after,” he said firmly with a glare that prevented you from protesting, then he stormed out. 

That night when Aemond arrived in your chambers, you walked swiftly to him and clung to him. 

“He says we will be leaving for Winterfell the day after tomorrow, Aemond,” you said, near panic as you looked up at his face. 

He pressed his lips together in frustration. 

“Do not let him take me away again. I-I can’t survive it. I want to be with you. I want to be home. Aemond, I can’t, please-” you gasped out as hot tears fell from your eyes and streaked down your face. 

“Shhhh,” he held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I promised you I would protect you and our son, did I not?” he said calmly. 

You nodded, your face still pressed into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat calmed your frayed nerves. 

“This is a mere stumbling block to my plans, but one I shall resolve. You will not be forced to leave my side again, dear heart. I promise you that,” his voice was deep and reassuring as he rubbed your back. 

“He is suspicious,” you warned. 

“Do not fret. I shall handle it,” he said. 

You nodded and sniffled as you attempted to stop the tears. 

“I am scared,” you admitted in a small voice. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he placed a hand on your cheek and jaw and tilted your head up so you could meet his gaze. 

“Of course,” you breathed out. “With my life.” 

“Then trust in my promise,” he said gently. 

You nodded and he kissed you, soft and slow and reassuring. 

He deepened the kiss and as you tasted a mix of him and the saltiness of your tears, your worries began to melt away. 

To be continued….

Part Three    Epilogue