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prncessjaeger · 1 year ago

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jennifer’s body ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღsypnosis:' pranking' your bestie gone wrong (right!)

ღan: heavily inspired by one of the best thrillers ever, happy halloween!!

ღcw: mentions of death and blood, semi-descriptive smut or sum idk (first time btw so don't laugh), finger-fucking, oral (fem to fem obvi), manipulative tactics used, semi coercion, cussing, everyone’s 18+, and uhh i think that's all.

the moon was full tonight, and the blood you thought you rinsed off with a hose was still coated on your hands. you took a good look at them and licked your fingers dry, then looked up seeing mikasa’s light being the only one off. huffing, you saw the ladder next laying on the back of the house, and groaned, knowing you had a full fear of heights, but huffed and moved it closer towards her window. “fuck i hope your window’s unlocked miks.”

when you reached to the top, you juggled with her window and ‘ahh’ed when it opened for you, “bingo.” you saw mikasa’s figure sleeping soundly and sighed, taking off your jackets and pants while also checking yourself out in the mirror. you snuck in the her bed quietly and laid for roughly 10 minutes waiting until she turned around and once she did, you saw her eyes peek slightly open looking directly in yours.

“hi.”

“AHHH WHAT THE HELL?!!” a blood-curdling scream roared from her lips. she ran to turn on her lights, wondering who was in her bed this late at night, “enough with the screaming mikasa, damn you’re such a cliche-”

“GET THE HELL OUT!” you saw her holding her chest with one hand and pointing towards the door with the other, the fear evidently shown on her face “but we always share your bed when we have slumber parties?” you could still see the anger on her face, "but i didn’t invite you over…?"

"oh my god, when's the last time you've physically invited me over? since we were what, 12? we're past that stage now..." mikasa huffed loudly to show that she's irritated but you noticed she let her guard down, so you slid over the bed towards her and hesitantly slid her glasses off, “calm down…I won’t bite...”

“tell that to jean-”

“watch it. he was hitting on you, you know i don’t like that.. besides, he was a little salty so you're not missing out...” she saw your eyes turn from flirty to irritation in 2 seconds but brushed it aside knowing you'd be back to normal in no time. she stared down at the shirt you wore, something that was definitely not owned in your closet, as she felt you run her hands through your hair,

“where’d you get that shirt?” you looked down at the shirt, smirking, “it makes my boobs look great, don’t they mika?” mikasa rolled her eyes at your redirection the conversation to something else and gave you a long hard look, a total comparison to the soft, lustful look in your eyes, “c’mere,” you grabbed her cheeks and pulled her into a small kiss, the feeling of her soft lips caressing her made her feel something she couldn’t put in words.

she hesitated at first, but because you were so persistent, she leaned back in and kissed you back, hard. her soft breaths exhaled slowly, feeling your tongue wrestle against hers. abruptly, you backed away and laid down flatly on her bed, silently inviting her with a distinct look in your eyes.

“y/n, this is…so wrong-”

“of course it’s not wrong, best friends kiss all the time! i mean, we’re still best friends, right?” you sat up to meet her eye as she sat on the bed, nodding at you slowly. “but i’ve never kissed anyone.”

“you mean to tell me you 'n eren never kissed? as long as you've both dated? or anyone??" she shyly shook her head no, “well now you have! so let’s get to learning, shall we?” mikasa still had a fearful look on her face and sighed, knowing you’d probably had better kissers before her, “what’s the long face? you’ll be fine, mika, trust me.” your eyes captivated her and saw them roll obnoxiously when you weren’t budging, “you know what, i’m gonna find someone else to kiss if you don’t-”

mikasa instantly feels a burst of confidence and shuts you up, kissing you more passionately. pushing you back on that bed and crawling on top of you, neither one of you broke the kiss not once. heavy moans and breaths came from you both and you moved your hands to push her down on your crotch area, feeling and kneading through her ass through her black thin night shorts. she tilted her head then moved her hands to your tits, massaging them softly which erupted a long whiny moan coming from your throat. “fuck you’re so hot,”

“am i?” your hand went down to cup her cunt, moving your fingers against her clothed clit slowly which made her hips stuttering against you, “fuck, d-don’t stop, please,”

“wasn’t planning on it,” you hastily pulled her pants off, deciding to keep her cute pink and white panties on instead since it complimented her skin…

…oh! and they were pink too.

you continued to rub her clit through her panties, feeling a wet patch starting to form and mikasa’s moans were perfect, something you’d want to hear forever. they were loud, but not too loud to travel from the room and wake up her grumpy ass mom, and they were sooo high pitched, contrasting from her deep voice. “‘ts feels sooo good, y/n, shit.”

“mhmmm…” you pulled her panties down with your teeth while keeping eye contact with her, and when your cold middle finger slowly slid in her cunt, she fell over continously moaning aloud, “aww fuck!”

flipping over so you're the one on top and her beneath you, you saw the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, thrusting your fingers inside of her and kissing along her neck, feeling the need for blood, but shook that thought out, wanting to keep giving your best friend the pleasure she definitely wasn't receiving from eren,

“tell me how it feels baby,” hearing your raspy voice, she felt like she wanted to cum right then and there.

you noticed mikasa leg shaking, the crescent shaped marks embedded in your arm from her sharp nails which piqued an interest in something, “you wanna cum?”

“yesss i wanna cum, please let me-!”

“if you don’t tell me how you feel, i can’t let you cum baby,” you could hear the irritation in her sigh, and you moved from her neck to her face, “b-but i alre-ready told you how i felt--OH FUCK!”

you pushed another finger inside of her, feeling her cunt squeeze your fingers which restricted your movements for a hot second, “relax, baby relax,” seeing-well more like feeling that she wasn’t letting up, you moved down to her glistening pussy, and licked a stripe up to her clit, feeling mikasa tremble under you.

continously thrusting your fingers, you began to eat her out simultaneously and mikasa felt like she was seeing stars. the feeling from your two fingers and your tongue was too much for her, and when you sucked her clit, she couln’t even warn you when she came, her wetness dripping all over your face and down her thighs…but you didn’t stop sucking and slurping, removing your fingers and stuck them insider of her mouth once mikasa sat up, overstimulation hitting her hard. “w-wait wait wait-.”

“why would i wait, mikasa? huh?” you looked up at her, seeing her drool all over your fingers, going down your arm. with a small bit of strength, she pushed your head back away from her, closing her legs which were still shaking from how hard she came. “woah…you’re so wet right now fuck.”you rubbed against her thighs wanting to pry them open and slurp her sopping pussy up all over again. “oh shut up,” you quirked one brow up, and smirked, waiting for her to put her guard down, and as soon as you saw her exhale slowly, you slid open her legs and attached your mouth to her lower lips once again, "hold on y/n, wait-" even though she was steadily telling you to stop, her hands continuously pushed your head further into her pussy. "right there, baby right thereee," she grabbed your hair and moved your face basically up and down against her cunt, her legs continuously spasming.

your hands went inside of your panties, flicking your fingers inside of your own gushing core and rubbing your thumb against your clit, as you licked and sucked onto her clit once again, "you're such a bitch for this, y/n,"

you stopped your motions, not liking her choice of wording and in comes a brilliant idea in your brain, an idea that could instantly make her lose this sudden attitude she had and use her mouth for something better.

you immediately pulled your panties down, pushing her laid back once again and sat right on top of her mouth, facing your back towards her, “let’s put this mouth to good use, hm? or are you too scared to do something,” mikasa couldn’t lie, you were acting real cocky and knew that she needed to do something to shut you up.

so, she grabbed your hips to plant your warm pussy fully agasint her mouth and she began copying the motions you did to her previously, feeling you scrunching up the ends her tank top, “ooh, for once, you really know what you-you’re doing, you’re taking me so well princess…” mikasa didn’t let your hips go, instead even tried to ground them further, and you were lowkey scared the fat of your ass was gonna suffocate her.

you moved your hips against her mouth and nose, feeling her tongue go flat, and since you were faced back towards her, she reached up with one hand and pushed you down to her cunt, and you knew what she wanted so you began licking and sucking her pussy again, feeling her moan against you. “mika this- fuck- that feels sooo good, keep going keep-” your hips kept grinding against her mouth, softly moaning against her sex.

funny enough, you got the sense that she was trying to overpower you, and you could not let that happen so you shakily hopped off her face and spread her legs wide open, fully connect your pussy on to hers, the feeling of your grinding ontop of her clit made mikasa see stars. “ohh my…goddddd,” you held her leg in the air, feeling the wetness slosh together, “i’m-’m gonna cum again, you’re so good-

“the best?”

“the best everrr…” you moved just a tad bit faster, her moans that were so pitchy, soft, and so loud, you had to cover her mouth, “you don’t want your mommy dearest coming in, do you?”

her head shook no, a tear rolled down her cheek and she felt like she was about to cum even hard than before, and suddenly she fell out, relaxing with a blissful look on her face, unlike you who was still chasing your well needed high after today’s…events and finally came down right on her cunt, letting out a loud gasp turned into whine…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

now you both were laid out in only just a shirt, cuddle up together when mikasa suddenly woke up and jumped from you, “what the FUCK is happening with me?!”

“wow mika, i never knew you could say the f-bomb so much now,” you giggled at her, watching her pull her panties up fastly, “i-i- saw you, did w-we-we just-!”

“w-w-we fucked? yeah it’s too late for you to be all shocked now, especially when you did your tongue like-“

“oh my god SHUT UP- MMMFHG!!” your hand clasped against her mouth, “god calm down…” she removed her hands from her ears and stared real hard at the shirt you were wearing, furrowing her brows, “isn’t that..eren’s shirt?” “

”hm? this old thing?? it might be, why?” she ignored your giggles and hurriedly called eren’s cell, hearing it ring and ring and ring, “come on eren pick up baby please-”

“baby?” you jerked your head and muttered, seeing her call another number, “hi ms.carla, have you seen eren tonight?”

“uh, no he says he was meeting a girl from his class for a project…y/n i believe, you know her right?” the phone slid from mikasa’s hand and she saw your eyes widen just a bit, then saw your infamous smirk grace your features when she knoes you’ve done something- well more like feasted on someone, “s-sorry ms. carla i-i have to go..” she hung up the phone and finally noticed the small splotch of blood splattered on the side of your jaw, something she swore she didn’t see the entire night. you giggled at her fear-distruaght face, licking the remnants of her off your fingers,

“oops.’

ღan: omg i’ve been gone for a bit but school has its priorities- but that don’t even matter rn🎀

#mikasa x reader #mikasa x black reader #kinktober #mikasa smut #aot smut #smut #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan #aot x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #jennifer's body

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 1 year ago

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🎃⁀➷ 31 days, 31 spooky prompts for Whumptober *ੈ✩‧₊˚🕷️🍂

1. ❝ don’t look, try not to show any fear as I tell you this, but I think that pumpkin behind you is alive, and it’s looking at us. ❞

2. ❝ please, I’m not crazy. that scarecrow is alive and it’s trying to kill me. you have to believe me. no one in this town is safe! ❞

3. ❝ you remember that body that was admitted to the morgue last night? the one that has human bite marks that looks nasty infected on the arm. yeah, well, this is going to sound insane, but it’s gone. the body’s missing. ❞

4. ❝ babe, you’re dead. this is the afterlife. we’re all ghosts here. ❞

5. ❝ do not come out of your room when it’s nighttime. no matter what you hear, you must stay in your room throughout the night. ❞

6. ❝ the bats, they’re biting and killing people. we have to run. now! ❞

7. ❝ is that a person sitting on the tree branch? why is she smiling like that? what’s wrong with her eyes? oh my god, she’s crawling down. oh my god, she’s crawling towards us! ❞

8. ❝ you haven’t heard of the blood moon curse? you must be new here. ❞

9. ❝ if you hear a voice calling your name from the woods at night, do not answer. ever. ❞

10. ❝ I got bitten, and I need you to kill me before I turn and become like them. please promise me you’ll kill me before I hurt anybody. please don’t let me be like them. ❞

11. ❝ no, don’t make eye contact with it. keep on walking, but do not run. ❞

12. ❝ there will be a ritual tonight and they will use you as a human sacrifice. you have to get out of here. ❞

13. ❝ shhh, she can’t see us, but she can hear us. be quiet. ❞

14. ❝ what do you mean the doll is alive? it’s just a doll. ❞

15. ❝ one of us is possessed. there’s one way to find out who. ❞

16. ❝ we’ve been walking in circle. we’ve walked past this house before. you see that lady in the window staring at us? she was also there the last time we walked past her property, staring at us through the window exactly like this. it’s like she hasn’t moved at all. ❞

17. ❝ you need my blood to stay alive. drink it. drink. or you die. ❞

18. ❝ I think there’s someone living in the walls. I can hear them breathing at night. ❞

19. ❝ this is a mistake. we should never have come here. the myth is real. we’ll never get out alive now. I’m sorry. gosh, I’m so sorry. ❞

20. ❝ if you see the shadow, you only have 3 days left to live. ❞

21. ❝ are those claw marks on the trees? they weren’t here last night when we set up the tent. ❞

22. ❝ I don’t think the blood on his clothes is fake, neither are the human organs in those jars. we have to get out of here. ❞

23. ❝ I’ve seen it all. the devil is real. it’s too late now. all of us are going to die tonight. ❞

24. ❝ they are not a cult. they’re my family. I’m not being brainwashed. let me go. let me go! ❞

25. ❝ what did you just inject me with? what’s in the syringe? what’s in the fcking syringe?!! ❞

26. ❝ those blood, it’s still fresh, meaning whoever — or whatever — killed it is still around. we have to keep moving, and we have to keep quiet. ❞

27. ❝ she doesn’t like her dolls to speak at night. if she hears your voice after 8 o’clock, she will rip your vocal cord out. ❞

28. ❝ there’s something in the mist. if you breathe, you die. ❞

29. ❝ look at me, hey, look at me, these people, they look like your friends and they sound like your friends. but they’re not your friends. your friends are dead. we cannot trust anybody. ❞

30. ❝ don’t get too close to the water. the fairies have very sharp teeth and strong grips. ❞

31. ❝ be careful in the full moon night. just… be very careful, alright? ❞

TAP HERE FOR; 31 DAYS, 31 TROPES FOR WHUMPTOBER

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reality-detective · 4 days ago

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I've been asked to share my opinion on the recent Economist magazine cover that depicts a very interesting symbolic collage type of image. In no particular priority order, here are my impressions:

1. Saturn, which has profound occult meaning, sits atop the world order, above all world leaders and changing international dynamics. They are saying that regardless of changing conditions in the world ultimate authority will remain with Saturn and the cult of Saturn.

2. The image is dyed with black and red which is especially significant in 2025 because black is the traditional color of Saturn and red is the classical color of Aries where Saturn is heading in 2025. In other words, the dominant colors of the image reflect Saturn's astrological entry into Aries next year which the "elites" are aware of and planning with (Saturn centric strategy).

3. The value of the U.S. dollar will rise, perhaps as sharply as a rocket, through President Trump's leadership. Currency speculators should take this very seriously as I believe he's on a mission to save the USD through extraordinary means and measures like gold.

4. Zelensky holds the lowest hierarchical rank within the image which resonates with my recent prediction that 'Zelensky the Aquarius' will be falling after the next new moon in Aquarius which comes on January 29th, 2025.

5. Nuclear and radiological imagery conveys the message of crisis of this nature that dark forces intend to amplify and exploit to negatively change power dynamics within the world. The eye with the radiation symbol correlates with Pluto's entry into Aquarius.

6. The other eye to the right appears to be the same from the pyramid on the USD, an easy read here is "watch what we do with the USD" which has of course been used as an economic weapon for a long, long time. President Trump can 'game change' this with gold. The hour glass next to the 'dollar eye' says that the dollar will have more time or that the clock on it will be refreshed.

7. The Japanese Yen appears forecasted (or plotted) to decline along with the power and influence of Ursula Von Der Leyen who is likely to be axed by Saturn in '25.

8. There is a certain city beneath Saturn that seems unaffected in a negative way, a city above President Trump and perhaps the USA which he represents. The "City of Saturn" is a concept that should be kept in mind, especially a new "City of Saturn" as Saturn will be transitioning into Aries, the house of all things new.

9. President Putin, the great Christian hope and power of the East, is placed beneath a globe showing his region in emergency red beside a syringe which inclines me to think of a new biological threat in his area. I pray that his new cancer vaccine hasn't been tampered with.

10. EV battery supply issues also appear forecasted, with Saturn entering Aries battles for land, territory and raw materials will definitely be intensifying globally.

11. The white rocket next to President Trump seems to be an admission that 'Trump world' will be taking off. The rocket can also symbolize @elonmusk who has (thank God) propelled President Trump's ambitions.

12. The red communist fist at the bottom of the image implies a series weakening of communist social power.

13. I'm not quite sure who the woman is at the bottom but I feel inspired to think of Marine Le Pen as a new power player on the global chessboard. Watch her.

14. Xi and Putin are 'to the right' of Saturn (implying that they are philosophical good actors) while Ursula and Zelenksy are 'to the left' of Saturn (implying that they are bad actors). Trump is in the middle, between worlds, where he'll be tested in his 'bridge making' ability in '25.

15. The eyes to the left and right of Trump convey a message that he is being watched in an "all seeing" manner by shadow powers. Saturn above Trump, in a 'third eye' position, inspires me to think that he has a blind spot for Saturn, especially the astrological Saturn, which he should learn to see through his inner eye.

16. President Xi is depicted with a higher status than President Trump although the imagery near Trump implies a 'rise to the occasion' type of momentum and challenge that Trump will pose to Xi and China in economic terms. Between this and the Yen decline imagery I get chills for the Asian market in general.

17. Imagery for the secret AI arms race is suspiciously missing although the text reads, "crunch year for AI, will the $1T gamble pay off?" In other words, look at this and look at that but don't think of the secret AI arms race.

In closing I must state, as I have repeatedly through the years, that 'world elites' use astrology in secret and here they are putting Saturn at the top of their 2025 agenda.

Watching wisely,

Astrologer Salvador Russo

It's a pretty good description 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourselves #educate yourself #reeducate yourselves #knowledge is power #reeducate yourself #think about it #think for yourselves #think for yourself #do your homework #do your own research #do research #do some research #ask yourself questions #question everything #astrology #you decide #decode #interesting

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talonabraxas · 3 months ago

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Phoenix Arcanum XIX, The Sun

Divinatory Meaning of this Card

Every day the golden light beams of the sun disperses the darkness of night and the 30th path on the Tree of Life links the sphere of Yod (Splendour-Mercury) with Yesod (Foundation-Moon) from the left hand side to the central pillar. In Tarot symbolism it is known as the “Collective Intelligence” which translates as the sum total of the 12 zodiacal influences, the celestial portents as well as the fixed stars in the science of astrology that represent the total evolution of the human personality through the process of reincarnation. However, astrologically, it also represents Mercury, as spirit or intellect, acting through the sphere of the Sun, as the masculine principle upon the Moon as the feminine principle. The Sun is simultaneously a receiver and transformer of other planetary influences within its own solar system. In this sense therefore, as it is part of the astral triad, it denotes the rigour of the heart or emotions combined with that of the “hidden soul body”. In declaration of the phrase;

“We do not observe the Sun by the light of the Moon,

No, even the Sun is illuminated and perceived by its own radiance.

Similarly, the true self is made real in this world by the eminence of its own light.”

The gestalt image of a face (Resh) or countenance implying that this path is actually an alchemical synthesis of solar and lunar energies, often represented in the subtle body as the alternating, coiling spirals of ida and pingala usually illustrated in the winged symbol of the caduceus carried by the Greek god Hermes. This path or journey is both individual and universal since it embodies and integrates the physical, the intellectual and the emotional aspects of the personality. It suggests working in harmony with other forms of consciousness, the necessary application of the human will or directive, and the recognition in human affairs of the subtle influences of the collective sub-consciousness.

Positive: Union, material happiness acclaim and recognition celebration of friendship or marriage, success in creative endeavours, openness with children. New achievements, growth and liberation from negative forces. Altruism.

Negative: Loneliness, dissolution abnormal relationships, regression inadequacy.

SPHERE: The Collective Intelligence Resh – A Face Astrological: The Sun in Leo, the 5th House. Constellation: Pegasus – The Flying Horse Sacred Gemstone: Tiger’s Eye or Sunstone

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watchingblsnowandforever · 6 months ago

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Hello.

Listen, I'm still not over ep 11 yet. AND THEN THEY GIVE ME THIS I- *muffled screaming*

Anyways, welcome to my crack posts. =D

Warning: long post 😊😅 (I somehow took even more screenshots than last time 😭)

I knew something like this would happen hehe

Also-

Don't lie, Peem, he'd already won your heart the moment he said "Na, krab" with those puppy eyes

I love how despite thinking they're enemies up till this point, Tan immediately jumps on the ship the moment he learns it exists.

Fang: cute. <3

Q: cutee. <33

Shy babygirl Peem has my whole heart 🥺🫶🏼

Yeah? Anyone specific you want to draw a portrait of, Peem? Someone from Engineering, maybe? Someone who confessed to you in front of all your combined friends just last night? No? 👀

This smile. This goddamn smile. I get you, Peem, I totally get you.

Q peeking in small into the bag is so accurate 😭

As I'd said in my previous post: "Right in front of my salad?!" and "Something very LGBT just happened to me o.o"

NOSE BOOP

I love nose boops hehe

[Phum: I have to go to class.]

You actually go to class?! *pikachu meme face*

Q's face perfectly expresses my feeling, and I'm definitely saving these as meme pics

Peem's plan to be hit on backfired so fast so hard 😭

Poor boy went into shock 😭

Peem is never hearing the end of this from Q. Never.

I love their friendship though. Besties forever. <3

Toey looks so excited here 😭🫶🏼

He's definitely over the moon that his two beloved hias finally realized they like each other (and of course he manifested this wdyem)

Throwing stones from inside a glass house, huh Q?

You're just as bad as, if not worse than Peem.

*shaking my head fondly* these boys are so whipped for their baes

This ep gave me a lot of meme pic ehehe

Why so surprised, Peem? You were the one telling Phum to flirt on you, why so shy now huh?

Oh, Aunt Pui knows. She's just trying to help her nephew get a nice boyfriend hehe

Also- learning the family business early on? Nice move, Phum.

I'm pretty sure Aunt Pui will accept Phum as family the very instant they start dating.

Actually- she probably already has.

What will you be tying next? The knot?? (I am so so happy I can make that joke and actually mean it now.)

Oh, and I love love love their dynamics. I'm always looking for verse because I don't like active power dynamics, but this show really delivered on it. There's always a push and pull, but throughout, they're equals. Yes, even through that slave era (remember how exactly Peem came to be his slave?). It did start off with a slight imbalance, but it evened out pretty fast (because Phum is incapable of not being the cutest clingy little puppy for more than ten minutes and Peem is weak for it).

PhumPeem/PeemPhum is giving me so much that I'd thought I'd almost never get from BLs (there are a few other examples, I think, but this is probably my topmost).

I don't know if y'all have noticed, but Phum is deliberately soft and is often using polite pronouns for the last two episodes.

It's just... they're so pretty 😭

This scene is just >>>

He-

HE LEARNED LATTE ART JUST TO USE THIS LINE WITH PEEM I'M DYING OH GODS

Phum is 200% committed. Other upcoming BL romantic interests, please take notes.

Jokes aside, what started out as a potential red flag (even two years ago, this relationship would have been very very different) turned into the greenest flag (with a side of childhood trauma).

Did he just-

He almost confessed!!! So close!!

Also- please give me them as boyfriends already, I'm on my hands and knees. But can you imagine what they'll be like when they actually start dating...?

...

I CAN'T WAIT. GIMME NOW. *grabby hands*

This scene made me speechless. Ep 12 was full of beautiful, absolutely stunning scenes, but this was what took my breath - his cute smile that lights up his whole face, his "Pai, krab" and the sheer relief when Peem asks him if he wants to go.

For a moment there, he thought Peem would leave, just like all the people in his life. He knows it wouldn't be permanent, but it's hard to get rid of such an old, deep-rooted fear.

But Peem, unknowingly, immediately waves it away by asking him if he wanted to come with. The only thing is... I don't think it was that unknowing.

I'll end part 1 on this note. Part 2 will be posted soon!

If you've reached this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a doughnut 🍩

And here are my previous We Are posts.

#we are #we are series #we are the series #thai bl #phumpeem #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl

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yanderecrazysie · 8 months ago

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Could you do yandere hantengu clones x reader? Thanks

Title: The Winner Takes It All

Pairings: Hantengu Clones (Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi) x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, descriptions of death

Summary: Maybe you weren’t meant to be a demon slayer. Either way, you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew.

“The winner takes it all

The loser's standing small

Beside the victory

That's her destiny”

-From “The Winner Takes It All” by ABBA

The trees seem to press in on you, their tall branches arching over your head to cage you in. The darkness is all-consuming- inky blackness coats everything outside of the light of the village. The light is brighter than it should be, seeing as many of the buildings are ablaze, the fire casting flickering shadows across the dead grass.

The wood of the houses is dry from the lack of rain and catches fire like boxes of tinder. The inhabitants run screaming from the area, praying that they will reach the next village over and find refuge there. After all, their home is no longer safe.

The air is thick with the scent of demons.

You watch as your crow flies off, back to the safety of the demon slayer corp headquarters. Hopefully, it will return with a hashira, instead of more lower ranks like you and the only other two slayers that still stand.

There had been twenty-something of you to start.

Blood coats the ground in puddles and splatters. The bodies of demon slayers and villagers alike litter the streets and are picked apart by rats. Neither the innocent villagers nor the trained warriors were sufficiently prepared for this battle.

The two slayers that stand are both young men, a rank or two above you at most. You do not know them, but you beg the gods to keep them alive. It’s not for their sake, no, it’s a selfish wish.

You don’t want to be alone.

Chaos rages through the village from four completely different sources. The initial demon has disappeared, the false excitement of taking off his head long since faded. He was, no doubt, alive and hiding somewhere as the four new demons that had come from the beheading wreaked havoc on the burning village.

You want to go back to the headquarters, where it was safe, and find a job that didn’t involve actually fighting man-eating demons anymore. You had cut off the heads of 47 demons, but none of them had been a part of the 12 kizuki, much less an upper moon.

You had seen the “Upper Rank Four” kanji written on his wide red eyes as he begged and pleaded to keep his head. Such a pathetic demon didn’t seem to fit in the upper ranks, and it seemed like it would be a quick execution.

Now, you wish none of you had fallen for that trap. From his head grew another and another until four completely different, extremely powerful demons were wielding their destructive power on the helpless village.

“Hey!” a voice sounds above you, one filled with a boundless joy that does not belong here, “Isn’t that the girl Hantengu’s always watching?”

Slowly, you look up. You’re the only girl around, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re the topic on his tongue, but you wallow in denial. Hantengu? Isn’t that the name of the whiny demon we were sent to slay?

Above you, flapping his wings, is one of the four demons that now plague this village. His golden eyes stare playfully down at you, his mouth open in a smile so wide that you can see the word “joy” written in black on his tongue.

“I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to meet you!” Suddenly, the half-bird man is folding his wings and diving straight down at you, cackling gleefully.

You swing your sword upwards desperately but he dodges the blow with ease, his hands- or, rather, his talons, grip your shoulders and rip you off the ground with a kick that sends dust flying and the pair of you into the air.

You have nothing to grab onto but your sword and it takes all you have to hold onto that when the shock of your feet leaving the ground hits you. His talons dig into your skin through your uniform, the nails thick and sharp. Unable to do much else, you let him do what he wants.

He flies to the tallest building’s roof and drops you a few feet above it. You land awkwardly and feel a pain shoot through your ankle as you struggle to find purchase on the slanted ground. Finally, you come to a stop near the edge, heart pounding as you take your sword in both hands and glare at the avian man soaring high above you in the night sky.

A clang startles you and you swing around to face yet another demon. This one has red eyes that glare daggers through your very soul, and his Khakkhara staff bangs ominously against the shingles of the flat roof he stands upon.

He looks much less friendly than the bird-man and suddenly you wish you were in the air again.

Even worse, the other two demons approach from your left and right respectively. The golden-eyed joyful bird-man lands behind you, so that you are completely surrounded by the demon clones.

“You have a good eye, Urogi,” the demon to your left speaks to the bird-like demon with a grin. He has emerald green eyes and carries an Uchiwa, which you recognize as the reason behind most of the destruction in the village houses. You remember him waving the innocent-looking leaf and wrecking a huge hole through several homes at once with just the air alone.

He catches your eye and sticks out his tongue playfully. You are able to easily read the word “pleasure” written on his tongue and cringe in disgust. He laughs, “Aww, she’s so cute! I just want to eat her up!”

The red-eyed demon with the deadly glare raises his Khakkhara and looks down on you with disdain, “I’ll finish her off quickly.”

You prepare for death, closing your eyes and forcing back tears. If only a hashira had come…

“But won’t Hantengu be sad?” a soft voice asks. You open your eyes and look over at the demon to your right. He has big, sorrowful eyes and he looks down, carefully avoiding your gaze.

The scary red-eyed demon holds his Khakkhara in the air, mercifully keeping it from touching the ground and releasing the electric bolts that had spelled the end for several other demon slayers. He lets out an angry huff and his glare turns even crueller, “Maybe he will be happy to see her in pieces.”

“No, he loves her!” the blue-eyed demon insists.

“What demon loves a human?” the red-eyed demon questions in disgust.

“The one we split off of apparently,” the green-eyed demon snickers, taking the information in stride, “‘means we can’t kill her, Sekido.”

“Fine, kill the remaining two scum,” the red-eyed demon, Sekido, commands.

Urogi spreads his wings and cackles, “Gladly!”

“With pleasure,” the green-eyed demon agrees.

The two of them leap off of the tall building, landing uninjured on the ground far below and charging the other two demon slayers. You watch in horror as Urogi opens his mouth, a yellow light glowing brightly in his mouth, paired with a feral screech from his throat before shooting out and hitting the two men square in the face. They fall back, paralyzed, completely helpless as the green-eyed demon descends upon them and…

You look away as the first blood splatter hits the ground. You can’t stand to watch them in their final moments, torn literally limb from limb. There is no hope for them. You know before the final scream that they are doomed to die.

Your trembling legs give way beneath you and you fall to your knees. You slide a little closer to the edge and you almost wish you would fall to your death. Surely that would be quicker than whatever these demons have planned for you.

The sounds of squishing flesh and splashing blood fills your ears. Tears drip down your cheeks and fall from your chin. You’re truly alone now. Or, rather, you’re the only human around.

“Hey, do you think Master Muzan will let us keep her?” an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close. You look up tearfully and shudder when you see the pleasure demon looking down at you with excitement.

“How sad, maybe she would prefer death,” the sad demon says, “I fear that we may break her.”

The red-eyed demon walks up to you and grips your chin tightly, tilting it upwards so he can study you. He is quiet for a moment or two before he lets you go.

“I can’t deny she is quite attractive,” he admits, angry frown still not leaving his face.

“So we can keep her?” the green-eyed demon asks.

“Ahh, my heart is singing with joy!” Urogi crows, “She’ll be ours forever!”

“Until she dies, of course…” the blue-eyed demon moans sadly.

“Don’t be stupid,” the angry demon huffs, “Master Muzan will turn her into a demon.”

“What a sad fate…”

Urogi smiled widely, “Well, why not begin forever now?” He turned to you, smile morphing into a smirk, “Sorry red riding hood, the big, bad wolf is winning this time around.”

He opened his mouth and a yellow light began to glow inside it.

In a moment, you’d be unconscious and completely at his mercy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer

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ktwritesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 1

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: PG (Later chapters will be explicit) Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Sarah's babysitter has a thing for Joel. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl, The Last of Us's number one fangirlie. <3

Austin 2002

“Hey, Sweetpea!”

You looked up at the sound of your childhood nickname, not sure right away who was calling for you. In a small town familiarity was de rigueur. You went to school with people referred to exclusively as Cooter, Biggie, and Ears, so it could have been worse.

You were waiting for the bus just outside the school cafeteria when your brother, Paul, came over in his football uniform. He almost never talked to you at school, so you figured he wanted something. He was old for his grade and had made the varsity team as a sophomore; your parents were over-the-moon. In your opinion, it had gone to his head.

“You have a dollar? I want to get a gatorade before practice.”

“Here,” you dug through your purse and fished out your last dollar, rolling your eyes as he sprinted off toward the vending machines without so much as a thank you.

“We’re going to the mall when Andy gets out of practice, you wanna come?” Your best friend, Cheryl, asked.

“I can’t,” you said. “I’m babysitting.”

“Nah,” your friend Mercedes teased. “She’s got a hot date with Papi Joel.”

“Oh my God,” Cheryl laughed. “That’s so messed up, stop it.”

“Yeah, that’s super weird,” you laughed along, hoping they wouldn’t notice the blush rising in your cheeks.

The truth was, you had long-harbored a crush on your handsome neighbor down the block: rugged good looks and soulful brown eyes, hardworking, good with his hands, a loving father, the whole package left you feeling weak in the knees. But you would never say so, not even to your best friend. As nice as it was to daydream about, you knew it could never happen and admitting it would just make you look desperate and pathetic.

“Seriously though,” Mercedes insisted. “If you had to pick a dad, he’s primo DILF material.”

“JJ’s dad is kinda hot,” Tina said, stubbing out her joint on the sidewalk ramp.

“JJ’s dad isn’t hot,” Mercedes corrected. “He just lets us party in his barn–besides, clearly Mr. Miller has ulterior motives. What 12 year old still needs a babysitter?”

It was true, Sarah was getting a little old for a sitter, but Joel still asked you to keep an eye on her. You figured he wanted her to have another girl to talk to. Someone older and wiser she could confide in about bullies, to go shopping with her, and teach her how to use a tampon. On paper, you were a certified good-influence: a church-going honors student, marching band, a literal Girl Scout.

Joel couldn’t afford to pay you much, but he was a good guy. He kept your favorite snacks in the house and gave you rides when your daddy wouldn’t let you use the Jeep; last summer he had installed a phone jack in your room so you could have your own line. More than that, Sarah was actually a pretty cool kid; you liked hanging out with her.

“Seriously, Mercedes,” you warned. “I know you’re just fucking around, but you can’t talk like that. Not at school. That’s the kind of shit that got Mr. Spaden put on a watchlist.”

“That and flashing sixth period APUSH,” Mercedes laughed.

“He’s like a widower, right?” Tina asked. “Kind of emo.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “They don’t really talk about Sarah’s mom.”

“I mean, she has to be dead, right?” Cheryl said. “What kind of mom would just abandon her kid like that?”

You shrugged. “Maybe that’s why they don’t talk about her.”

The Millers’ house was just two streets over from yours. At 4pm you met Sarah at her bus stop and walked her home.

“So how was school?” you asked.

Sarah shrugged. “You know, it’s school.”

You wrapped an arm around Sarah, giving her an encouraging squeeze as you walked.

“Guess what I brought,” you said, reaching into your bag for your copy of Clueless on dvd. “We can make popcorn and paint our nails, give you a little makeover. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Sarah leaned into you. “As long as you use real butter this time. None of that diet crap that gave me the shits.”

“Well excuse me,” you rolled your eyes. “Not all of us can be effortlessly thin.”

You ordered pizza–an indulgence, but Joel insisted on treating when he had to work late–and put on the movie. By the time the credits rolled your mani-pedis had time to set, so you brought out your makeup bag and let Sarah pick out a CD to put in the stereo–some twangy duet. A man and a woman singing along to a surprisingly cheerful tune.

Bye bye love, bye bye happiness Hello loneliness, I think I’m gonna cry…

“What happened to Destiny’s Child?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Sarah stuck her tongue out. “It’s one of my dad’s.”

You knew Sarah had more alternative sensibilities–even more than yours–and sometimes struggled to fit in. She didn’t shop at Hollister and Abercrombie, she didn’t have straight hair and pencil-thin eyebrows. She didn’t even have a traditional family. Everyone wanted to belong somewhere, but you hoped with a little guidance, Sarah could avoid some of the pitfalls you had faced in high school and figure out she didn’t have to change herself for the sake of others.

“You don’t have to like something just because your dad does,” you said as Sarah took a seat on the carpet beside you. “You have to decide for yourself–make your own way in the world.”

“For your information,” Sarah said. “Loretta Lynn is very punk.”

“Alright, punk,” you laughed. “We can work with that.”

You gave Sarah a mirror to hold as you dusted her eyelids with sparkly blue shadow and showed her how to apply pencil to her waterline.

“You’re pretty enough as it is,” you said, dipping a brush into the blush to apply on the apples of her cheeks. “We’re just enhancing your natural beauty.”

Sarah shifted her seat, her brows furrowing with tension.

“How do you find somebody,” she asked. “Someone you like and let them know you want to get to know them.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I think I’m the wrong person to ask,” you said with a laugh. “I haven’t had much luck in that department. Just be yourself, anyone who doesn’t appreciate that isn’t worth your time.”

“There aren’t any boys you like at school?”

“To be honest, high school boys are pretty gross,” you said. “Why, is there someone you’re interested in?”

“Do you like my dad?” Sarah blurted out.

You froze; the hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

“What? Are you being funny?” you forced a laugh, setting down your makeup brushes. Your ears burned red. “Of course I like your dad. He’s super nice.”

“No, I mean do you like him like him,” Sarah pressed. “Do you think he’s cute…”

“He’s a good looking man,” you stammered, hoping it sounded like it was the first time this had occurred to you. “You know, for a grown up.”

“He doesn’t have anybody,” Sarah frowned. “Doesn’t go out..Meet people…Date. If he’s a good guy and girls think he’s cute. It’s gotta be me, don’t you think? I’m the reason he’s alone.”

“Oh Sarah,” you sighed, taking her hands. “It’s not you. And even if it were, you’re worth it. Your daddy loves you more than anything–I wish my parents had half as much interest in my life as your dad has in yours. You are amazing; you have such a good heart. So you can’t think like that, okay? You are enough. You are everything.”

Sarah nodded and you dabbed her eyes with a tissue before her mascara started running.

“Come here, let me put on the finishing touch.” You swiped peach-flavored gloss across her lips. “What do you think?”

“I look different,” she said, observing her reflection in the little compact mirror. “I think I like it.”

“You should keep this one,” you said, handing her the lip gloss. “Color looks better on you.”

Sarah held the tube of gloss in both hands and finally cracked a smile.

“It’s getting late. You go wash up before bed, alright,” you told her. “You want to take a bubble bath? I brought Warm Vanilla Sugar.”

You waited downstairs while Sarah cleaned up; she changed into her pjs and was in bed by 10:30. You nodded off on the couch for a bit until Joel came in a little after 11.

“Hey, Sweetpea, thanks for staying,” Joel said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a $20 out of his wallet for you. “I really appreciate it.”

He looked tired. In your half-dozing state, you wondered what it would be like to be the one he came home to at night. To greet him at the door with a beer and a kiss. To curl up on the couch together for movie nights with Sarah nestled between you. To have someone to take care of and someone to take care of you.

“Yeah, of course,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “She’s been good as gold. Just got to bed about a half hour ago.”

“Let me just say goodnight and I’ll give you a ride home,” Joel said, heading up the stairs.

You gathered your things while Joel tucked in Sarah. He grabbed his keys and ushered you outside. He opened the passenger side door of his truck for you to climb in.

Joel started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. His hand was resting on the gearshift. You stretched, letting your hand brush against his. He pulled away like you had burned him.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said, reaching for the heater, turning the dial all the way up. “It’ll warm up in a minute, put your hands up to the vent.”

You drew your hands back into your lap, sitting stock-still and ashamed as Joel turned the car at the end of the cul de sac.

“So how’s school going?” Joel asked, breaking the silence.

“Pretty good,” you nodded.

“You thinking about college, or–”

“Right now, UT Austin,” you said.

“That’s a great school,” Joel said. “Close to home.” You watched a muscle in his jaw flex.

“It’s a guaranteed scholarship once I finish my Gold Award,” you said. “I’m building a rosary garden for the church.” That was if the stupid council ever approved your damn project. Even after you had planted and mulched and hauled paving stones and gravel, they kept insisting you needed to do more. Apparently anything less than solving world hunger fell short of their expectations–and yet the Eagle Scouts got all the prestige?

“I remember, you were working on that the last time you came over,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might let me borrow some tools,” you said. “I’m building a pergola, you know, to shade the Blessed Virgin.”

You chuckled and Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said. “Can’t let the Blessed Virgin get heat stroke, right?”

“I really appreciate it,” you said, glancing sideways at him. “My daddy’s kind of useless.”

“Your daddy’s a good man,” Joel said sternly as he turned the truck down your street. “A good man.”

“I know.” You stared out the window. Your father had helped the Millers out after Tommy got arrested at Benji’s drive in for decking some guy for calling him a wetback. But clearly Joel had never seen your daddy drunk. “I just wouldn’t trust him around power tools.”

Joel stopped the car along the curb at the end of your driveway. You held your breath as he reached over you to unlatch the door and push it open.

“You go on now,” he instructed. “I’ll watch you get in the door.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Joel,” you said, sliding down from the seat of the truck. You were keenly aware of his eyes on your back as you made your way down the driveway.

You paused with your key in the front door, looking back down the drive before you stepped inside. Joel was still waiting; you waved at him and he smiled back before shifting the car into gear as you closed the door.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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rust-painted-fingers · 2 months ago

Text

Day 2 ... Full Moon

Techno's finger's glided over the keys, touch quick and playful. His shadow danced and flickered, following the rhythm of the music.

It was half past three, and Phil has yet to arrive home.

A dissonant chord echoed through the house, Techno's accompanying sigh hidden.

"I swear if you come back with an open wound…" Techno murmured, gaze enraptured by the flickering flame.

Phil was having a very bad, no good, terrible fucking shift.

12 hours till 3 am:

"You ready Phil?"

He met Niki's eyes and they shared a sigh.

"I swear to god I'm never taking this shift ever again, I'll fucking transfer if I have to," Phil grumbled, going over inventory.

"That's what you say now, but then you'll start feeling like a hare in a colony of bunnies soon enough," Niki quipped, scrubbing down the inside of the truck. "If I couldn't stand three hours what makes you think you can?"

Phil ignored her.

"Uhh, what are you talking about…"

Ranboo jumped at the sudden attention from the two of them.

"Shit this is your first time, isn't it?"

Niki bulldozed through Ranboo's spluttering, "Ignore him, he's just grumpy his and Techno's schedule never align." She waved her, now ignoring Phil's indignant 'Hey!' "All you need to know is everything's about to be more chaotic."

"Chaotic…?" It was clear Ranboo had no clue what was going on.

Phil sighed, "The full moon is here and its about to make every patient ten times more difficult."

"I thought that was just a myth," Ranboo said, fingers fidgeting with the box of supplies Phil asked for.

Taking the box, Phil called over his shoulder, "Believe it or not, be prepared for the worst."

10 hours till 3 am:

"How do you cut your finger off with a pumpkin scoop."

Phil looked up from his stretch. "You alright?"

Ranboo lifted his head, wonder shining in his eyes, plus some speck of pumpkin guts. "It was a kid kit."

21 year old male, helping his nieces carve their first pumpkin. Overeager and began carving the pumpking before all of the guts were scooped. Wanting to clean it up a little more, he grabbed ahold of the pumpking bowling style and lobbed his ring finger off.

Phil shrugged, "You've seen worse."

"Yeah, and somehow a pumpkin full of blood is still more disturbing."

"Ok it wasn't filled—"

"Alright boys, we can worry about Ranboo's mental state later, can you reach the top? I think I saw some guts fly up there."

Phil watched as Ranboo sweeped pumpkin innards into a bucket, already tired.

8 hours till 3am:

"Oh my god Jason you fucking asshole!"

"Ma'am we need you to step aside."

"You know I get scared easy, why would you—"

"Hey I know this is a lot, what's your name?"

"Jessica," the young woman sobbed, tears and blood streaming down her face.

"Ok, hi Jessica, I'm Ranboo. I need you to follow me outside, I promise you my team is doing everything they can to help— Jason was it?"

"They named him after that stupid fucking movie, I know!"

"Hey this is not a judging zone, promise, let's get you…" His voice went distant, escorting the distraught wife outside of the kitchen.

Phil locked eyes with Niki.

"On three, one, two, three—!"

30 year old male, father. Wanted to surprise his wife who was preparing dinner. Instead, he got a surprise slash to the chest, inches away from his neck.

"Well there goes our scary movie nights…" Jason groaned. Phil and Niki were careful but speed was critical and a few bumps were unnavoidable.

They passed Ranboo and Jessica. "I can't fucking believe you did that on our anniversary." She seemed more composed, her wobbly voice the only sign of distress.

"Ranboo."

"Ready."

5 hours till 3 am:

"I thought firefighters were the ones who helped people stuck on trees."

"They do, but our patient isn't stuck in a tree anymore," Ranboo said. Phil was more preoccupied cleaning his hands once more with a wipe. Blood always got tacky and settled inside the skin. It was a feeling Phil grew used to but even he could only tolerate it so much.

Niki glanced over to the front. "Hey Ranboo, are you sure they gave you the right direction? The city doesn't have any trees, at least not this far in."

"Didn't you guys know, they installed a new sculpture downtown," Ranboo grimaced, eyes on the road.

A beat.

"You're joking."

"Honestly would've thought you knew, Phil, didn't Techno mention it?"

Phil didn't answer the question, because Techno did mention it. In fact, he talked about it in great detail, and Phil already knew the scene awaiting them was going to be bloody as all hell.

"Niki, get double of everything ready." Because the tree they were headed to was an installation that featured spikes surrounding the trunk. Phil can still remember the excited way Techno spoke of the symbolism, how there was a birds nest that the cuckoo chick basically took hostage. It wasn't meant to last long, there was a numbered amount of normal eggs the cuckoo was meant to push out.

Phil wondered if Techno would be fine missing that particular date night.

4 hours till 3am:

"You alright there mate?"

Niki nodded, as if there wasn't a huge black eye forming on her right side.

Ranboo was a little too quiet for his taste, so Phil let her organize the remaining inventory to check up on him. She was used to the frenzy.

Taking in a deep breath, he released it as he knocked shoulders with Ranboo. He really was too tall, sitting down and yet he only barely reached his chin.

"It's not my fault you're short."

Any and all good will left Phil as he captured Ranboo in an elbow lock.

"It's not a matter of short or tall, Ran," Phil gritted, "It's about the abnormaility that is your femur being longer than our entire torso."

They grappled for a bit, with Phil as a clear winner because Ranboo may be over two meters, but his limbs were gangly and a trip hazard more than anything.

"Ok ok! I'm fine I promise!"

Phil let him go, but left his arm resting on his shoulders. "Yeah?"

Those shoulders shrugged. "I mean, you were right. I'm used to seeing worse. Honestly I don't think anything will ever beat that time with the maggots." Phil suppressed the urge to gag. He managed to block that memory.

"I get the feeling there's more."

A chuckle, "I don't know man, it's just weird. Usually the worst of worst gets spaced between shifts, but we just came back from a scare actor punching Niki, and that's the tame part."

Three highschoolers, ages 16 and a 17 year old, excited for a haunted house promoted as free for students. The cost came in the form of unsafe practices and two electracuted teenagers. The seventeen year old sported broken knuckles for getting into an altercation with an actor right before they arrived. Niki was mistaken for the teenager and got sucker punched.

"You gotta admit, it was pretty funny seeing the guy fly through the air."

He got a laugh, and Ranboo wheezed in between breaths, "I keep forgetting she has a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jistsu."

"And you better not anymore after that demonstration."

Both Ranboo and Phil jumped, Niki cooly leaning against the truck.

"Aye aye, captain!" They chorused.

Niki grinned and went to sit next to the driver's seat.

2 hours till 3am:

"How ya holding up," Niki chirped.

Phil looked at her questioningly.

She rolled her eyes. "We're close to done, did you and Techno have any plans?"

"No jinxing! I am so close to saying goodbye to the mortal realm and you are not taking that from me!" Ranboo chimed in.

"You just had to ask en route?" Phil grinned.

Niki shrugged. "Can't really ask after, can I? The minute the clock strikes and you're gone," she teased.

Phil conceeded. "There's nothing planned, maybe I'll listen to a new piece he practiced." He laughed at her pout. "What do you want me to tell you? We're old and I can hear our bones crack in the morning."

She blew a nonexistent strand of her off her face — Phil didn't want to mention the tightness of her bun in case of causing unecessary stress of balding— and snapped a new pair of gloves. "Well I'm going on a picnic. It's going to be romantic and I'll have LED candles to set the mood."

"Can I come."

"I thought you were leaving this mortal realm?"

Phil just smiled, and against his better judgement, hoped this would be the last call of the night. Maybe he could surprise Techno.

30 minutes till 3am:

"I swear to gods if they don't count this as overtime—"

"Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure the director is afraid of you."

"Ranboo bring the truck around, I don't think we can move any further without making the injury worse."

Long legs disappeared around the corner before Niki finished her sentence.

"At least it isn't too bad, we should be able to get back to the hospital just before clock strikes three," Phil said, patting the man's pocket for a wallet.

Unknown adult male, heavier with height and weight, a sliced achilles heel on the right leg. Currently unconcsious.

"It's kinda weird, they didn't tell us how he got hurt… Did you find a wallet?"

It was strange, even more strange how there was nothing, not even a social security card or anything. "No, did they say anything about his mental state?"

Niki hummmed, hands busy with bandages, "Not that I remember, but they said the line cut after he provided the address, maybe he got mugged?"

The male wore a typical business suit, four pant's pockets and nothing inside them. He checked the jacket's inner pockets and yielded similar results. "This is weird, he doesn't have any further bruising or lacerations—"

"Uhm, guys…" Niki and Phil looked up, and froze.

Ranboo, with shaky fingers and a trembling lip, said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring them to you."

Aimed at his head, a man pointed a gun.

Bored of waiting, Techno abandonded the piano in search of Carl.

"There you are, I guess you're waiting for him too huh?"

The tortie looked up at him with wide unblinking eyes, curled in a cute donut shape on the couch.

"C'mon, let's watch something while we wait. We'll make Phil jealous that he can't join the cuddle pile until after he showers." Techno scooped up Carl, and as predicted, he began purring up a storm.

Techno wasn't paying attention all that much when he turned on the TV. Really, he just wanted some background noise while cuddling Carl so it opened on the news channel.

So focused on the soft fur beneath his hand, Techno barely caught the next words.

"—hostage situation that is using three EMT workers and an unknown civilian. Currently the hostage taker speaks of religious affiliation and requests to, quote, 'let the ritual commence without interruption—"

Techno's chest got felt heavier as he drowned out the noise of the news anchor because suddenly he was meeting Phil's gaze. It was his word ID, the one he always complained about because he looked like a sleazeball when in reality he was caught mid blink.

"Mrow."

Techno barely noticed Carl leaving his lap, his head full of static. No fucking way. It couldn't be. There would always be weird shit that happened but never did Phil get caught in a fucking hostage situ—

"Techno, hey woah—"

Before he could think beyond 'danger' his fist swung. A hang grabbed and pulled him forward, but he caught their foot to unbalance them. As gravity pulled them down Techno met Phil's eyes and only had a proficient 'fuck' fly through his head before they hit the ground. Hard.

"Ah, mate, I just got out of a hostage situation, I don't think I can spar anymore without a warmup at least."

Techno was still speechless at several realizations at once. And then he grunted as he felt Carl's 15 pound body put all his weight onto his shoulder. "Carl why are you doing this to me."

"It's called karma, Tech."

"And you!" Techno shouted, surprising Phil, "Why the hell didn't you call me! Why did I have to endure five minutes of pure adrenaline before your pasty ass got home."

Phil spluttered, choking out a laugh. "If I called you would've been even more of a wreck, what are you talking about!"

"But it would have been a controlled nervous wreck instead of an unrestrained catastrophizing spiral into—"

"Techno we're still on the floor."

"— a future where Carl would be raised by a single father—"

"Can I please shower before reassuring you I'm ok."

"I'm not letting you anywhere out of my sight from now on," Techno sniped, pulling Phil up.

Phil scritched Carl from where he curled around Techno's shoulders. "I really wasn't hurt, Niki had the worst of us and the black eye wasn't even from the guy."

It took a few minutes of patting Carl before Phil looked at Techno's unimpressed face.

"And Ranboo?"

A wince. "We pushed for him to take a break but the kid doesn't know how to stop. I think he would go insane if he actually took it."

Techno sighed. "I'm organizing a tea party and you're all expected to attend."

Phil laughed, taking off in the direction of the bathroom.

#techza #techzaspookyweek2024 #rose writes #crying cause i took a break that went on too long #i'll probably re work the ending for ao3 so it'll live on tumblr by itself for a while #next time im writing something UNDER 1k cause i cant do this daily TwT #also apologies for the formatting i don't think it transferred and i refuse to look at it any longer rn #happy techza week~

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chappcdlips · 7 days ago

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// ( aldis hodge . cis man . he/him ) . ⸻ cyrus cromwell , a thirty-eight year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for ten months (but grew up there) . the magnet is known for being charismatic and vain and is often associated with caffeine fueled days, loud laughter in quiet places, displeasure hidden behind a dazzling smile . in a small town where they work as a teacher at red creek k-12 word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that redacted .

STATS

full name: cyrus carson cromwell hometown: red creek, mi sexuality: closeted bisexual birthday: may 23 zodiac: gemini sun, sagittarius moon, sagittarius rising height: 6’2” languages spoken: english, arabic, mandarin, russian, spanish, conversational french and german marital status: married children: 2, zeke (8) and lily (6) traits: charismatic, intelligent, driven, vain, manipulative, sycophantic

BACKGROUND

second oldest of the cromwell family, cyrus always knew he was expected to achieve great things

while he helped tori with their younger siblings sometimes, he spent a lot of time out of the house with his friends

he was popular at school and super involved in the red creek community, star of the high school basketball team, class vice president his senior year, valedictorian — his list of accolades is long

when he graduated, he immediately got tf out of red creek, attending stanford

he majored in political science and linguistics with a minor in international relations, eyes on a job with the UN eventually

when he graduated, he moved to europe and then continued to move around the world, working as a translator at various embassies and UN facilities

somewhere in there he met his wife (submitting as a wc... *eyes*) and they had two kids

but about a year ago REDACTED happened and cy shortly after moved his family back to red creek very abruptly

now he's working as a teacher at his alma mater, teaching government to high school seniors and probably is a language tutor on the side for anyone who wants to learn a language he knows; he claims he just wanted to "slow down" but... yeah, that's not really true... ANYWAY!

PERSONALITY AND FUN FACTS tw brief mention of internalized biphobia

kind of an egomaniac, thinks he is god's gift to this earth (and maybe he is idk)

he knows he's hot

very protective of his siblings and family and anyone he cares about

very charismatic, easily commands and keeps a room's attention and LOVES it

was absolutely a ladies man in high school and college, dated a lot before meeting his wife; recent conflict with his wife probably has him being a little flirty when he shouldn't //: men smh

is bisexual but insecure about it and very much tries not to let people know that as he's always kind of felt pressure to be the typical big, strong Man of the House, especially because his parents weren't around a lot he's always wanted to fit the picture perfect image he was "meant for" which only included heterosexuality in his mind

hates navy blue, refuses to wear anything in that color

has an insane workout routine and is in the process of constructing a guest house in his backyard just for a gym space (not very handy like That, so someone please come help him build it)

does not feel guilty about getting tf out of red creek as soon as he could, doesn't feel guilty about most things he does even if they're somewhat questionable????

fake as fuck, even if he hates you he will smile at you like (((:

the murders scared him as a kid since he was around 13 but now he kinda thinks the whole resurgence/boogeyman returning theory is bullshit; he was friends with one of heather's siblings and saw firsthand the kind of grief people were going through, so now he thinks people are bringing it back as a story to scare the young people in town

character inspo: mr. incredible (the incredibles), steve (the haunting of hill house), patrick bateman (american psycho), mouth (the goonies), fitz (scandal)

#redcreek.intro

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bingbongsupremacy · 1 year ago

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How To Kiss Pt. 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Warnings: Drug Use

Summary: While at a party, you run into the girl who was once your best friend.

Also Joel works at an Auto Shop in this.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

*****

I'd heard the rumors. Joel and Ellie were moving back. They bought Mr. Hoagans' old auto shop. Sarah had passed and they needed to get out of the city.

But those were rumors. Rumors aren't true.

Most of the time.

They started back in July and for the most part, died down.

" Here put this on. " Dina shoves a silky top in my direction.

" Fuck no. I'm already going to Ian's stupid party. I don't want to ruin a good shirt with booze or god knows what. " I refuse.

" You'll look hot. " Dina protests. " And I promise it won't get ruined. "

I let out a frustrated groan, flopping back onto my bed. Dina's been pressuring me into going to this party for weeks. " Fuck, fine. I'm not wearing fucking heels though. " I warn.

Dina grins. " Don't worry, I wouldn't torture you that much. "

By the time we finish getting ready, we're half an hour late to the party. Majority of the street is filled with the cars of people attention the party. Drunk college students filter in and out of the building.

Dina squeezes my shoulder in excitement. " I'm gonna go find Jesse. get me a drink, will ya? " She leaves before I have room to protest.

Great.

I squeeze my way through the hallway towards the kitchen. I grab a couple cans of beer and wait for Dina.

Twenty minutes later Dina's still no where to be found.

She fucking forgot me.

I contemplate leaving, quickly realizing Dina drove here. Fuck.

I make my way to the porch. I need some air. This is going to be a long night.

I open the sliding glass door, a cool breeze quickly brushing against me. I let out a deep breath. I shouldn't have come here tonight. What did I think was going to happen? I haven't been to one of these in years? I don't know anyone here besides Dina and Jesse.

" I thought I saw you. " A voice says from my left.

I jump, startled by the sudden noise.

The moon shines on the person just enough for me to see their face. Ellie.

" Ellie? "

" Y/N. "

A slightly uncomfortable feeling runs up my body. What the fuck am I supposed to say to her? Hi? How are you? How was fucking Boston?

" You haven't changed a bit. " Ellie's eyes wander up my figure. Her hand moves to her mouth and I notice the familiar shape of a joint.

" Wish I could say the same. " I mutter while eyeing her arm tattoo.

Ellie lets out a small chuckle. " Yeah. I guess I have changed a bit. " Ellie shifts out of shadows and further into the moonlight.

She's wearing a white tank top and her signature flannel. The cuffs of her flannel shirt are folded up, exposing her tattoo and some of her muscles.

Her face is much more defined than a few years ago.

She holds out the joint.

I carefully accept it. Tonight can't get any more fucked, right? Maybe this'll help.

We stand silently, passing the joint back and forth.

A sense of nostalgia floods my memories. The first time we discovered weed, I'd stolen a joint from my older sister. We'd snuck out of Joel's house in the middle of the night to smoke in the back yard. Neither of us had ever smoked before and immediately ended up choking on the smoke.

Eventually we got the hang of it. Somehow Ellie always managed to snag some weed from god knows where. It became part of our ritual on Fridays. At 12-1 we'd sneak out of the house to smoke. We never got caught.

Usually there was a lot more talking involved.

Should I ask Ellie about what happened between us? About why she stopped calling?

Deciding against it, I just stand back and enjoy the moment.

" I missed you. " I whisper quietly.

Ellie's quiet for a moment. I almost wonder if she didn't hear me.

" I missed you too. " She replies quietly.

I glance over at her. Her eyes are trained straight ahead on the trees as she takes another drag.

Maybe I should ask her?

Before I get the opportunity, the door opens. A group of rowdy boys squeezes their way through us.

I look up, preparing to talk to Ellie again when I notice she's gone. I glance inside the kitchen to see her making her way through the hallway, abandoning me once again.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

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srim01997 · 3 days ago

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Second Chance | Aemond T. x OFC

Paring: Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Implied Aegon II Targaryen x Celtigar! OFC

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Angst, Character Death, Blood and Violence, Criston Cole being shit

Writer’s note: Please don’t kill me; this fanfic has five more chapters remaining. I promised that I would provide an ending for Ser Crispin.

Please ilke, comment and reblog!!

Previous Chapter | Second Chance masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 12 A Song of Ice and Fire

Viseara felt a wave of nausea during a family meal at Dragonstone, forcing Rhaenyra to check on her aunt while the others waited outside the room. Maester Gerardys examined the rogue princess thoroughly before delivering his verdict.

“Princess, you are with child.”

“How is that possible?” Viseara protested, disbelief etched on her face. “I drank moon tea. Besides, at my age, I shouldn’t be able to conceive anymore.”

The maester hesitated before replying, “Perhaps you missed a dose during your stay, or this is the will of the gods. Shall I inform your family, Princess?”

“No!” Viseara’s sharp response was immediate. “If you tell them now, my brothers and cousins will turn the realm upside down looking for the father of this child.”

Deep down, Viseara knew exactly who the father was. There was only one man she had lain with over the past months—and one night in particular when she’d neglected to take moon tea after he’d spilled his seed inside her repeatedly. If her family found out, Vhagar would likely be torn apart by two other dragons, and her rider would be chop by Dark Sister.

“But…” Gerardys began.

“I’ll tell them when I’m ready,” she cut him off, waving dismissively. “For now, tell them I’m unwell from stress. Can you do that?”

The maester nodded and left to deliver the message as instructed.

Outside the room, Aemond had shifted his focus to Viseara, his usual hostility toward the Velaryon brothers replaced by concern. Tensions had risen since King Viserys had left the dining hall. Everything had been fine until a platter of roasted pork was served, which made Luke laugh as he recalled an old prank he had pulled on Aemond. In response, the one-eyed prince raised his glass for a toast, deliberately emphasizing the word “strong,” which nearly escalated into a brawl if Daemon hadn't intervened.

Viseara, however, knew she couldn’t let her condition be discovered. Adopting a look of discomfort, she feigned illness to divert attention. “The food doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m feeling a bit unwell. If the queen doesn’t mind, I’ll retire for the evening. Please, continue to enjoy your meal.”

Rhaenyra quickly instructed Jace and Luke, “Take your grandaunt to her chambers.”

The brothers helped Viseara to her room, with Aemond’s intense gaze following her retreating figure. Once inside, she dismissed them, removed her outer gown, and collapsed onto her bed.

After some time, she felt a presence near her. A soft kiss pressed to her forehead startled her awake.

“Daemon, stop bothering me…” she mumbled groggily.

“Afraid not,” a familiar, deep voice replied. “I brought you tea and some fruitcake.”

She sat up abruptly, her mismatched eyes meeting Aemond’s as he set down a tray. His hand moved to check her forehead, but she flinched away.

“You should leave. I need rest,” she said firmly. “Thank you for the tea and cake, but go before my brother sees you here. It’ll cause trouble.”

Aemond frowned but relented, leaving the room after a gentle nudge from her. Alone again, Viseara sipped the tea and nibbled on the cake while flipping through a book. Her thoughts wandered as she realized tonight marked the end of Viserys’ reign—and the beginning of Aegon’s as the usurper king.

Determined, she finished her meal and locked her door. She accessed the hidden passage in her chamber, leading to Viserys’ room. Kneeling beside his bed, she clasped his frail hand.

“Viserys,” she whispered.

“Rhaenyra?” his voice rasped.

“No, it’s Viseara, your youngest sister,” she replied softly, her heart aching at his deteriorated state. “Brother, do you still affirm Rhaenyra as your heir?”

“Yes… Rhaenyra,” he murmured, his feeble hand tightening around hers. “Viseara… protect her.”

Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Startled, Viseara slipped back into the hidden passage, watching as Alicent entered and sat beside the king. He began to ramble incoherently, but one phrase caught Viseara’s attention:

“...Aegon… Song of Ice and Fire… the Prince That Was Promised…”

Viseara’s blood ran cold. Alicent’s misinterpretation of these words would ignite a war, one that would claim countless lives—including her own if she didn’t act swiftly. She retreated to her room, hastily drafting a letter.

When her handmaid Angera knocked urgently, Viseara opened the door.

“Princess—”

“Angera, listen carefully. Take this letter to Dragonstone and deliver it to Princess Rhaenyra and Daemon. Tell them I’ll join them as soon as possible,” she instructed. Angera nodded, slipping away unnoticed.

Viseara then prepared her escape. As expected, Alicent moved to crown Aegon while imprisoning her and Rhaenys in their chambers. Feigning compliance, Viseara tied sheets to her balcony as a decoy while plotting her true escape through the secret passages leading to the dragon pit.

Her dragon, Nyx, stirred as she approached. The Midnight Executioner, as it was known, was silent and deadly. It crouched low, allowing her to mount before slinking toward the exit.

“We’re leaving, Nyx,” she murmured, her hand resting on her belly. “Let’s get away from the father of this child for now.”

The dragon soared into the night, heading for Dragonstone, where Meleys soon joined them. Upon landing, Viseara stumbled, caught by Rhaenys.

“Viseara, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy. I skipped breakfast,” she lied. “We need to see Rhaenyra.”

Inside the hall, Daemon embraced her tightly.

“Viseara, you’re drenched in sweat. You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest after delivering my news,” she insisted. “Did Angera’s message reach you? Where is Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra’s anguished cries cut off Daemon’s answer. The tension was palpable as Daemon began fortifying Dragonstone. Meanwhile, Viseara felt the world spin and collapsed into darkness, Rhaenys’ voice and the maester’s hurried footsteps fading as she slipped into unconsciousness.

The scent of medicine and incense tickled her nose, rousing the rogue princess from her slumber. As her eyes fluttered open, she found herself in a chamber occupied only by Rhaenys and Maester Gerardys, who was busy examining her. Her cousin's face was etched with worry, her brows deeply furrowed as she gazed at her. Rhaenys dismissed the maester with a wave before settling at the foot of the bed.

"Viseara, why didn’t you tell anyone you’re pregnant?" Rhaenys asked, her voice calm but laced with concern. "The maester says you’re in the early stages. Who is the father?"

The rogue princess rubbed her face, hesitating before replying softly, "Aemond. My nephew."

Rhaenys’s expression froze in shock, her composure faltering for the first time. She hadn’t expected that the relationship between the two had escalated to such an extent. The revelation left her momentarily speechless, but she quickly recovered, clasping Viseara’s hands tightly.

"Does Daemon know?"

Viseara shook her head vigorously. "Not yet, Rhaenys. I’ll tell him when the time is right. If I tell him now, he’ll do something reckless, without a doubt."

"You plan to wait until you’re showing to tell your twin brother?" Rhaenys sighed heavily, shaking her head in exasperation. "I can help you keep this secret, but if he finds out on his own, I won’t intervene. You’ll have to explain it to him yourself."

Viseara hugged her cousin tightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Rhaenys. Thank you so much..."

She must have been unconscious for hours, as by the time she entered the hall, Rhaenyra was already wearing King Jaehaerys’s crown. Lord Corlys, now recovered from his injuries, stood tall. Aenys and Meria were present beside Lord Celtigar, but there was no sign of Elia. Daemon approached her, placing a hand on her forehead to check for fever.

"Are you sure you’re up to this?"

"I’m fine, brother. How far along are the discussions?" Viseara asked as she approached the table, where the map had already been lit with fire, indicating the council’s seriousness. It seemed they were back to planning their next moves. What came after this meeting would determine whether she could save Lucerys.

"Aenys, can you try bonding with a dragon again?" she asked her second son. "Celtigar Castle needs protection against enemy dragons. Do you have one in mind this time?"

"I’d rather not tell you just yet," the young Celtigar smirked, clearly keeping his choice a secret on purpose.

"And Elia?"

"I didn’t see her at the coronation," Rhaenys said to Viseara. "The Greens didn’t kill her because she’s still useful to them. They’re likely using her and her child as leverage against Aegon."

That leech Otto! He’s going too far this time. He’ll be dragon food for Nyx soon enough.

Because of her earlier exhaustion and fainting spell, Viseara had missed Otto’s bold move—showing up at Dragonstone to propose a deal. He offered Rhaenyra recognition of Aegon as king in exchange for avoiding bloodshed. Rhaenyra would be Lady of Dragonstone, and her sons would remain unharmed.

As if anyone would accept that, you decrepit green leech!

The only option left for Rhaenyra now was to summon the houses that had sworn oaths to her father: Arryn, Stark, and Baratheon. Jace suggested that using ravens would take too long, so he and Luke volunteered to go as dragon riders to secure their loyalty.

Viseara immediately spoke up. "Let Lucerys go to the Eyrie, niece. Storm’s End is too dangerous for a young dragon if a storm arises. My dragon is strong enough to weather any storm. Don’t worry, Rhaenyra—I promise I won’t burn Storm’s End to the ground."

Before leaving for Storm’s End, Viseara bid farewell to Daemon and Rhaenys. Daemon chose to stay and guard Dragonstone while also keeping an eye on Aenys, ensuring he wouldn’t recklessly attempt to claim a wild dragon. Rhaenys, meanwhile, would lead the Velaryon fleet to patrol the Gullet and secure the sea routes.

"You’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Be careful," Rhaenys urged, gripping her hands tightly. "I’m not sure whether you or the Greens will reach Storm’s End first. Promise me you’ll return to Dragonstone safely."

"Are you worried about me, cousin?"

"I admit I’m more worried about you than Daemon," Rhaenys quipped.

"Rhaenys!"

Her cousin laughed before climbing onto Meleys. Viseara mounted Nyx and watched as her nephews flew toward Winterfell and the Eyrie. With a firm command, she directed her dragon toward Storm’s End, fully aware of what awaited her there: Aemond and Vhagar.

The sky darkened, and the wind picked up as if heralding an impending storm. Viseara leapt from her dragon's back the moment her feet touched the ground. The roar of Vhagar echoed, warning her of what lay ahead. Steeling herself, she strode into the hall of Storm’s End, where One-Eyed Prince Aemond stood beside Lord Borros Baratheon and his four daughters.

Ignoring her nephew, she walked forward confidently, reading the letter in her hand aloud against the backdrop of thunder and rain.

Lord Borros eyed Viseara with clear disdain, his memory vivid of the scandal involving her and her nephew. Yet, he refrained from voicing his contempt or acting against her, aware of her reputation on the battlefield and her status as Daemon Targaryen’s beloved sister.

“Which of my daughters will your nephew wed?” Borros demanded.

“My nephews are already betrothed,” Viseara replied coolly. “Not that I find your daughters unsuitable, but I abhor seeing women used as pawns in men’s political games—”

“And yet, you allowed your daughter to marry King Aegon.”

“My daughter has long loved Aegon, in case you didn’t know,” Viseara shot back, her tone laced with mockery. “And I can already guess you’re scheming to offer your daughters to him if anything happens to Lady Elia. Let me make it clear—dream on. As long as I breathe, your daughters will remain unmarried. Besides, my nephew has a taste for strong-willed women.”

Viseara tilted her head and laughed. “If you dare claim ignorance of Lady Jocelyn, I’d laugh louder. At least your father must have mentioned her. And lucky for you, it’s me standing here, not Daemon Targaryen—he’d turn this place into a second Harrenhal.”

“If you refuse our offer, so be it. But don’t come begging for mercy from my queen.”

As she turned to leave, she froze under Aemond’s gaze. Drawing her dagger, she threw it to the floor.

“Nyke dare ao naejot gūrogon issa laes. Aōha muñnykeā jorrāelagon se laes, daoriot ziry?” (I dare you to take my eye. Your mother needs the eye, doesn’t she?)

Aemond was momentarily stunned by her boldness.

“Skoriot iksos issa nephew? Nyke jorrāelagon zȳhon laes, daor aōhon.” (Where is my nephew? I need his eye, not yours.)

“Issi ao nykeēdrosa angry rūsīr zirȳla syt taking qrīdrughagon aōha laesi? Pār gūrogon issa laesi naejot issa nephew. Nyke sacrifice ziry syt ao yn keligon holding nykeā grudge against aōha nephew.” (Are you still angry with him for taking away your eye? Then take my eye instead. I sacrifice it for you, but stop holding a grudge against your nephew.)

She picked up the dagger and pressed its hilt into Aemond’s hand. “Gūrogon ziry. Nyke dare ao.” (Take it. I dare you.)

Aemond shouted, “Daor!” (No!)

Breathing heavily, Viseara shook her head and retrieved the dagger. Turning to Lord Borros, she said, “I bid you farewell and thank you for the most hospitable welcome.” She offered a mocking bow before striding out of the hall.

“Viseara!”

“You shouldn’t address your aunt by her full name, nephew,” she retorted, turning to face him. “You and your bride suit each other well—ha!” A pang of emotion struck her unexpectedly. What was she beginning to feel for this man?

Aemond’s lilac eye widened as he shook his head. “I’ve been clear with you, Viseara—have you not heard me?”

“Heard you say what—?”

Thud!

Viseara felt a sharp pain as a blade pierced through her chest, the weapon striking from behind before being pulled out. Crimson spilled from the wound, mixing with the rain-soaked ground. Aemond rushed forward to catch her, pressing his hands against the wound. His eye turned to the knight lowering his bloodied sword.

“Ser Criston...”

“I’m sorry, my prince, but the Hand commanded her death,” Criston said coldly.

Rage ignited within Aemond as he lunged at the white-cloaked knight, pummeling him until his face was a bloody mess. He stopped only when he noticed Viseara’s breaths weakening. Her expression revealed a hint of disappointment—did she believe he was involved?

“Viseara... I didn’t know,” he pleaded, holding her close. He saw her trembling hand rest on her abdomen, her pale lips forming a single word.

“Baby...”

“You’re with baby?”

Before he could say more, Nyx’s furious roar echoed through the storm, the dragon’s eyes blazing with wrath. It crouched low, nudging Viseara’s lifeless form before lifting her with its claws and taking off into the stormy sky.

Aemond watched helplessly as the grey-and-blue beast disappeared. His jaw tightened as he turned to the bloodied knight.

“I won’t kill you, Ser Criston,” he said icily. “But you’ll beg her brother for mercy yourself—as her murderer.”

He bound Criston Cole and mounted Vhagar, commanding the dragon to carry them to Dragonstone. For Viseara, Aemond was ready to kneel before Rhaenyra.

Daemon struggled to hold back his tears as a raven delivered a message from Lord Baratheon, accusing Prince Aemond Targaryen of being involved in the murder of Princess Viseara Targaryen at Storm's End. Overwhelmed with rage and grief, the rogue prince swept everything off the table in a fit of anger, causing the soldiers and servants nearby to avoid him in fear. Rhaenyra decided to intervene, stepping in to calm her husband before he could destroy any more of the room's furnishings.

Rhaenys stayed silent as she observed Viseara’s children, who stood nearby with puzzled expressions, unsure why their uncle had suddenly lost his composure after reading the letter. Rhaenys couldn’t believe that their maternal family had allowed a dragonrider to be killed in their own castle—especially someone she had cherished as the sister she never had. Before their grief could fully set in, the sound of a dragon's roar echoed through the air, drawing Daemon’s attention to the window, where he saw a massive dragon approaching Dragonstone.

Daemon's face twisted in fury as he recognized the approaching dragon, Vhagar. Grabbing his helmet from the table, he stormed out toward the dragon pit, determined to mount Caraxes and confront the one-eyed prince along with his ancient dragon. Aenys, following closely behind, prepared to mount the dragon he had recently bonded with.

Vhagar dropped Ser Criston Cole’s battered body onto the beach before the Queen’s Guard, who rushed out to seize him immediately. Meanwhile, Daemon and Aemond faced each other from atop their respective dragons, their mounts snarling and roaring in challenge. The rogue prince’s voice was laced with venom as he addressed his nephew.

“You killed my sister! I will slay you and your decrepit beast!” Daemon roared, his tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “You’ve stolen the last memory I had of my mother!”

Aemond shouted back, his voice trembling with emotion. “I did not want to kill her! I swear by the Seven gods I had no part in this!”

“You liar!” Daemon spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re as deceitful as that leech of a Hightower. I’ll send your head to that green queen. Any last words?”

A deafening roar interrupted their exchange, forcing both dragons to pause. The shadow of an enormous beast loomed over them—Vermithor, the Bronze Fury.

“Uncle! Cousin! Stop this madness!” Aenys called out, panting as he struggled to steady himself. “Hold your blades for a moment!”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he addressed his nephew. “Aenys, you’ve bonded with Vermithor?”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Uncle. Let’s hear him out first.” The Celtigar youth stroked Vermithor’s neck, calming the beast before dismounting. Now on the beach, the three Dragonriders faced each other. Aenys, his golden-brown hair damp from sweat, turned to Aemond.

“What happened? Explain yourself.”

“Ser Criston Cole acted on orders from my grandsire to kill your mother,” Aemond confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. “I failed to protect her and…”

“And what, Aemond?” Aenys pressed, his sea-blue eyes sharp with intensity. “Say it.”

“Your mother… she was with child.”

“What did you say?!”

Both Daemon and Aenys stood frozen, stunned by Aemond’s revelation.

Viseara once again witnessed her death at Rook’s Rest, as if fate sought to remind her of the mission that had brought her back to this time before the Dance of the Dragons erupted. However, this time, the rogue princess saw something new—something she had not observed in the moments after her body and dragon struck the ground, shattering upon impact. Through her mismatched eyes, she saw Aemond leap from Vhagar and rush to embrace her lifeless form.

The one-eyed prince wept silently; his strong face buried in the curve of her broken, twisted neck. His muffled sobs carried words she could not decipher.

So that’s why his embrace felt familiar, she realized.

But she was dead, which meant her mission had failed. She had failed to stop the Dance of the Dragons. As despair overtook her, Viseara found herself standing before her parents and older brother. They stood across from her, shouting something she couldn’t understand. Moments later, she felt a firm hand cup her face.

“You must go back, Viseara! You cannot die yet!” bellowed Baelon the Brave, her father, his voice as commanding as ever.

“Viseara, my dearest daughter, return to where you came from, now!” pleaded Alyssa. “Please, my love, you still have time.”

Viserys, now appearing whole and strong, nothing like his frail self in his final days, stepped forward and spoke. “Follow the light, my sister. Do not look back. Keep moving forward and do not stop.”

The three of them pushed her forward into an empty expanse. A moment later, it felt as though she was drowning. Flailing desperately, Viseara clawed her way upward, trying to escape the unknown force pulling her under. Her slender hand reached out toward a glimmer of light, grasping for it as if it could save her.

Then, everything turned blindingly bright, so intense that she could barely see.

TBC.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x oc fic #aemond x oc #hotd angst

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 1 year ago

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The Future Glory of Israel

1 Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. 2 For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. 3 And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising. 4 Lift up your eyes all round, and see; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from afar, and your daughters shall be carried on the hip. 5 Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and exult, because the abundance of the sea shall be turned to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you. 6 A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall bring good news, the praises of the Lord. 7 All the flocks of Kedar shall be gathered to you; the rams of Nebaioth shall minister to you; they shall come up with acceptance on my altar, and I will beautify my beautiful house. 8 Who are these that fly like a cloud, and like doves to their windows? 9 For the coastlands shall hope for me, the ships of Tarshish first, to bring your children from afar, their silver and gold with them, for the name of the Lord your God, and for the Holy One of Israel, because he has made you beautiful. 10 Foreigners shall build up your walls, and their kings shall minister to you; for in my wrath I struck you, but in my favour I have had mercy on you. 11 Your gates shall be open continually; day and night they shall not be shut, that people may bring to you the wealth of the nations, with their kings led in procession. 12 For the nation and kingdom that will not serve you shall perish; those nations shall be utterly laid waste. 13 The glory of Lebanon shall come to you, the cypress, the plane, and the pine, to beautify the place of my sanctuary, and I will make the place of my feet glorious. 14 The sons of those who afflicted you shall come bending low to you, and all who despised you shall bow down at your feet; they shall call you the City of the Lord, the Zion of the Holy One of Israel. 15 Whereas you have been forsaken and hated, with no one passing through, I will make you majestic for ever, a joy from age to age. 16 You shall suck the milk of nations; you shall nurse at the breast of kings; and you shall know that I, the Lord, am your Saviour and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob. 17 Instead of bronze I will bring gold, and instead of iron I will bring silver; instead of wood, bronze, instead of stones, iron. I will make your overseers peace and your taskmasters righteousness. 18 Violence shall no more be heard in your land, devastation or destruction within your borders; you shall call your walls Salvation, and your gates Praise. 19 The sun shall be no more your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give you light; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. 20 Your sun shall no more go down, nor your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended. 21 Your people shall all be righteous; they shall possess the land for ever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I might be glorified. 22 The least one shall become a clan, and the smallest one a mighty nation; I am the Lord; in its time I will hasten it. — Isaiah 60 | English Standard Version Anglicised (ESVUK) The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Anglicised Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Cross References: Genesis 25:13; Genesis 27:29; Exodus 6:7; 2 Samuel 7:10; 1 Chronicles 28:2; Psalm 48:7; Psalm 102:13; Psalm 147:14; Isaiah 1:7; Isaiah 10:22; Isaiah 11:12; Isaiah 49:21; Matthew 2:11; Matthew 4:16; Matthew 15:13; 2 Corinthians 6:11; Colossians 1:13; Hebrews 12:22; Revelation 21:4; Revelation 21:23,24,25 and 26; Revelation 22:5

#future #glory #Zion #Isaiah 60 #Book of Isaiah #Old Testament #ESVUK #English Standard Version Anglicised #Holy Bible #Crossway Bibles #Good News Publishers

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megarywrites · 3 months ago

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find the word

tagged by @thewriteflame and I'll tag......... @pinespittinink @daisywords @zmwrites @coarsely @at-thezenith and your words will be stagger, stoic, straight, and strong.

my words were rush, rule, rage, and reflect and I'll be pulling them from what I have rewritten so far of Parts I and II of the second draft of Seafoam.

rush - from Part II: Split, Chapter 12, "Ugly Truths"

The moons’ light sliced through the shadows, cool and as calming as the sound of the rush of the incoming sea. Squinting, I stepped into the patch of light streaming in from the first of the windows lining the wall, and headed down, taking care to try to steady my breathing with each passing step. Had he—the Diamo…and the captain, I suppose—genuinely expected me to just…let him touch me? Without warning? Or provocation? Or, had I perhaps done something that made him think…No, nothing. I had done nothing. Why had he thought that that was an acceptable thing to do to someone? Had he no daughter nor wife?

rule - from Part II: Split, Chapter 10, "The Haven of the Gods"

Stretching far above, a dizzying dapple of colored light from the sun shining through the stained glass towers and turrets. The shimmering dust caught in the sunlight streaming through the vast expanse of glass was iridescent as it filtered gently down. Candle-lit chandeliers lined the beams criss-crossing over the benches filing the atrium. All around, more candles flickered in the many indents carved in the marble walls and the bowls of water beneath them caught their glittering light and projected them in ribbons inside the indents. Elaborately carved panels of the same red wood as the doors and the beams filled the spaces between the depressions, showing an even more extensive history of how our religion Isotrei came to rule our land, compared to the simple, thin beams at the latridom back home. Even from here, I could pick out the depiction of Isolios, Tiegira, and Vaceli’s benevolence as they helped our ancestors with their crops back when the gods used to walk among us—before Nyari ruined everything with her wanton selfishness. Gold accented the carvings emanating from every iteration of Isolios himself, who seemed to be shown in every single display around the auditorium. And, below, the floors framing the center aisle was made of the same marble as the walls and the steps outside, but the center aisle itself…the floor was made of glass as a window to look into the rushing Smara—the green, enchanted river of legend.

rage(d) - from Part I: Tremor, Chapter 6, "Sealed Fate"

The storm did keep us inside, just like I thought it would. It raged against our shutters for two days, and I braved the wind and rain to get some buckets from Ma’s potion shed to collect the rainwater that seeped into our home. We stayed wrapped up in our blankets and cushions, sitting as close as we could to the fire while Ma worked on her embroidery in the flickering firelight while I leaned against the hearth, using it as my counter as I made Ma’s flower crown.

reflect(ion) - from Part I: Tremor, Chapter 1, "Homecoming"

Glimpses into other lives—of the baker and his daughter preparing the next day’s wares, or arguments unfolding, of fathers entertaining their children while their wives were preparing supper—flashed before my eyes as I glanced through the windows of the passing homes. Then, further in, the darkened shop windows showed only my fleeting reflection. A sweeping beam of light drew my gaze up to the tallest tower of Psari’s latridom, and I stopped in my tracks to watch it revolve over the land before it shone back out at the sea. The latridom was lit from within as well. For what, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe the Stoli were preparing for tomorrow’s service, but… My attention drifted to the three circular stained glass windows adorning the face of the ancient house of worship with a bright kaleidoscope of colors against the gloom of the night. They painted the surrounding mist and the wet cobblestones in gleaming reds, pinks, blues, yellows, greens, and purples. My skin and clothes, too, as soon as I stepped into its light.

#tag game #i did my best to keep these as short as possible today lol #mc: thala galanis #sc: mitapi galanis #very description/world-building heavy i hope y'all don't mind #decided to add the titles of the parts and the chapters because i'm always very proud of my titles lol #book: tss #wip: seafoam #excerpt: seafoam

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tahanann · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 13: " He's gone. " ✎▫✧⭒…

Everything in the world was still right now. The heat had recently swept through (Y/n)'s city, causing an overwhelming amount of warmth in the streets. A slight cold breeze had been a saving grace to the citizens having to deal with the current heatwave. Many people were in their homes or visiting malls to cool off. Lazing around was a popular activity for those who chose to stay in their homes.

(Y/n) was included in that bunch.

The young woman had been laying down on a picnic blanket underneath a tree in her backyard. The tree had been there ever since she's gotten this place and it was certainly a favorite of hers. The branches, with or without their leaves, gave her company whenever she had restless nights. It had been like a friend, who trudged through, giving the shadows that covered her from the moon's light.

Her eyes stare up at the tree, watching little critters run around. Squirrels had made this tree their home. The sun's rays peeked through gaps between leaves, illuminating some of (Y/n)'s features.

Despite the radiance she received from the sun, she was as dull as ever. The young woman still struggled with her mental health but she took advice from her parents and close friends. She had to cave in because the days had been getting rather difficult to trudge through. With a bit of therapy and support from everyone, things have been much more bearable.

Work was going smoother now and she was able to socialize as much as before. Felicia and Matthew had been giving her some food through their countless house visits over the past few weeks. Her separated parents found time to call her to check in after she told them about her struggles. They were caring, understanding, and kind.

They had promised to look after her years ago and they were fulfilling it.

It was safe to say that (Y/n) was surrounded by people that loved her, but the same can't be said for her love life. Her relationship with her main romantic interest was blurry right now. Her heart ached for a man who likely has a wife and grandchildren by now, but he was possibly not even alive anymore. Either way, the bridge she had built cannot even reach her destination. A restless fog had covered her sights for the end of the bridge.

It was impossible to cross.

This relationship had been the main source of her misery and (Y/n) had been aware of it for so long. She always thought she could make it work and she fails to see that it has been steering in the wrong direction. The young woman devoted her love to a man that, she believed, loves her back. No one else but Matthew and Felicia knew about this.

Thank god her parents didn't know. They'd tell her to fully detach herself from him, which seems like something she just can't do. She loved him too much and there was a lot to lose, seeing how her mental health hinges on the very thought of him.

Jones.

(Y/n) shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She cannot let herself get lost thinking about him again. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, before she opened them once more. The sun was still there, the sky was still as blue as ever, and the tree was still green and brown. She was still laying on a picnic blanket with containers of food surrounding her.

Evidence of her picnic with Matthew earlier today.

After a while of sky-watching, the young woman sits up. She pushes her hands through her hair as she adjusts to her new position. She blinked once, twice, three times, before continuing to push herself up to a stand. She gathered the remnants of today's activity and headed into her cold home. The backyard lays dormant for the rest of the afternoon, as (Y/n) once again cooped up in her house.

The tv in the dark living room played noise in the background as she cooked dinner for one, with a little extra to be served as leftovers for tomorrow. The warm, orange light of the kitchen illuminates her form, but she remains cold always. The heat had left her home as soon as the sun disappeared. The temperature was deathly cold.

Her hands weren't shivering, but there was a chill pressed against her back, overseeing her chop vegetables and put them all in a pot. (Y/n) paid no mind to the presence, as she had been accustomed to it. The cold was always there, hugging her whenever possible. It lived here with her, almost like a partner, and she's grown to love it.

As a matter of fact, she's always been in love with it.

She only saw him once, but she always felt him. He was here, always stalking her during the night and disappearing for the morning. The moon energized him, (Y/n) believed), and she was fine with it. She supposed she could use the company.

(Y/n) hummed softly to herself as she finished cooking. It was done now and she could finally dine in the comfort of her living room. Wherever she went, the cold drifted alongside her. It sat beside her on the couch as she played something on the tv to keep her distracted from her thoughts. She ate her dinner, watched for a little while, and eventually went away to follow her usual nightly routine.

Afterward, she rested on her bed, her eyes staring at the abyss. The light of the moon seeped through the gaps between the leaves of the tree and the window, illuminating the area just a bit. It wasn't enough to keep the apparitions from appearing above her.

Beside her was her phone, playing a random song to fill up the silence. Her (e/c) eyes continue to gaze at the darkness. She tried finding the sparkle of broken glasses again, though he did not appear. Not after that other night, after her dad's visit, did he appear again. The specter she wanted to believe was Jones never showed itself to her again. The ghosts that she saw tonight were the cells in her eyes, floating around in their liquid casing.

Although she can't see him, she could feel him. The room is still as cold as ever, even if she had her blanket around her. There wasn't a hint of pressure beside her, but he was somewhere here. Watching her, protecting her, she'd liked to believe. The company didn't make her fall asleep, however. There was anxiety gnawing her insides.

There were only two letters left in the box, and the decline Jones has been going through has not been bright. There were a few light-hearted letters but (Y/n) felt as if that was an attempt to make himself feel better. The war wasn't going well, or at least that's what Jones believed. (Y/n) feared that the last two letters will be anything but good news.

She had every right to think about it that way.

Even if it was going to be good news, it'll end terribly for her. She'd lose him. The letters are all she had of the soldier.

The young woman continued to stare at the ceiling, letting her fears chew her insides. Eventually, through fatigue, she would fall into a deep sleep, only to wake early in the morning. The sun barely peeked through the horizon. The room was still cold, but only because of the morning chill that occupied her home. The presence that watched over her was gone. (Y/n) was truly alone in her room.

The (h/c)-haired lady stayed in her room for a few hours, unmoving from her position. She'd pondered and imagined scenarios in her head to make her feel better. It distracted her from the gloom that came with opening the second to last letter. When she had enough energy, she stood up and proceeded with her morning routine.

There, in the bathroom, she felt him. A cold spot was in the corner, and behind the shadows of her door, she saw a figure. The glint was barely visible, but she could make out his form. (Y/n) stared at the apparition, connecting eyes with him for a moment, before he would fade into the darkness of the shadow. From the mirror, she continued to maintain eye contact. Her body was unmoving, fearing if she did move, he would too.

Her heart ached.

"Come back, I want to see you," she'd say. This was the second time she'd see him. But the ghost wouldn't comply, for he had already expended energy to be slightly visible today. It may be that her eyes were just seeing things, but (Y/n) believed it was him. Her still body would eventually move to finish the rest of her routine. When she left, he'd appear within the darkness of her unlit bathroom. (Y/n) felt him move with her, just hovering around.

She stared at the box that held the letters. The second one was sitting on her lap, ready to be opened, but her focus was on the last one that sat at the bottom of the box. Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the one already out of the container. She swallowed her emotions and ripped open the envelope. She didn't want to scan the letter.

It was all going to be the same.

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n)'s voice cracked at the mention of his name. "How are you feeling?"

She already knew the answer.

To my darling angel, The operation at the beach was a success, but unfortunately, angel, I'm heavily wounded. I don't think I have that much time to live and I'm okay with that, honestly. I've come to accept that my death is nearing. There's not that much for me to live for anyway. Alex...he's gone. He died the day we stormed the beach. He told me he was going to live but he immediately got shot the moment the ramp opened. It's only been a few days since I last saw him but his image is still burned into my memory. Him, along with the annoying thoughts continue to haunt me. I think death is the only way to get them out of there. I'm the only one left out of my friends anyway. Nobody at home will miss me too much. All my friends are dead because of me and I can't handle the guilt of it all. I can't. It's always been my fault. I've already told Ma and Pa about giving up. They tell me to keep living, but it's hard. I don't want to have them deal with me. I know by the time I come back home, I'm not going to have an easy life. I'm so fucked up, it'll be so hard for me to get accustomed to civilian life again. I'll have so many problems and I don't want Ma and Pa dealing with all of that. I'd rather just get rid of the problem and spare them the trouble. I would live for you but I think it'd be useless. You don't love me anymore. You don't even think about me anymore, so what's the point? You've already, probably, tossed the letter aside. But that's okay. I understand. I won't hold any grudges against you because I know it's hard to love me. If you ever live with me after the war, you'd have the same problems as Ma and Pa. Leaving would make everyone feel better. I'll still love you regardless, even in my dying breath, my angel, I'll still love you. I've always told myself that I'd be your protector, so maybe, if God is good and great, he'll let me. At night, I'll be there, to make sure you're safe and happy. Maybe I can watch over you. I'd forever be the moon to your stars, my darling. I've been in and out of consciousness, or so I've been told. I've been in this med-bay for a while now and I know I can't make it out of here alive. It's kind of funny. I've always wondered what it was like to have death at my doorstep. I thought he'd be cold and overbearing, but he's actually a pretty sweet guy and gives people warmth and comfort whenever they need it. I feel him everywhere in this warm medical bay. He's always been by my side, waiting for my time and I'm afraid that it's already nearing. He sits on my bed and watches over me like the nurses and doctors that tend to my wounds every day. He's here with me right now while I'm writing this letter. He's telling me that I should write down everything I want to say to you. He's telling me to snap out of it though, but how can I? The very thought of you gives me comfort. Maybe one day, I will, but for as long as I breathe, I'll forever think about you. My vision is fading, baby. I pray to God he'll let me write to you once more. Just one more day, angel, and maybe another. I want to see you again in my dreams. Maybe he'll let me since I can sleep peacefully now. Forever yours, Jones

(Y/n) looked at the letter in her hands, resonating with his acceptance. Her hands tightly gripped the paper as she stared at his writing. It was messy in some parts, but he tried to be neat. There were tear stains on the aged paper. The young woman had a feeling that, even if he said he accepted death, there was a part of him that didn't want to go. He was still in his youth. He wanted to live but what he went through made it impossible for him.

The (h/c)-haired woman doesn't know the extent of his injuries, but the way he put it, he was gravely wounded. Even if he could be honorably discharged, his wounds make living life impossible. (Y/n) hated having to think about him in this state, but that's all she had in her mind. The thought of him being confined to a bed all his life, drinking medicine to overcome the pain.

It hurt her.

Though, the thought of him dying too, hurt her just as much.

(Y/n) placed the letter against her lips, giving him her usual send-off. "I pray for your recovery, Jones," the young woman would say. She knew the inevitable was coming, but she wanted to believe that he was able to change his mind and fight for his life. The last letter in the box might be proof that he's moved on from his beloved and he went on to live a long, prosperous life.

Despair lingered around her as she tucked the piece of paper back into its envelope. She stared at the aged paper for a bit before hiding it in her drawer. She lingered at her bed for a moment, as she felt a presence surround her. She could only smile before she'd shed a tear and cry out the emotions in her chest.

She'd muster her feelings at some point and put them all in a bottle for future use. (Y/n) left her bed, with her phone in her hand, and went to the bathroom to freshen up once more. She put on a bit of makeup and redness-correcting eyedrops to mask the fact that she ended up crying this morning. A notification ping echoed in the bathroom.

Matthew must be here.

He organized another hang-out with her today because he said he was feeling "a bit lonely". (Y/n) knew it was just a way for him to check up on her. He was aware that they were coming up on the last few days of her obsession. He wanted to make sure that she can get out of this situation alive and well. With the way (Y/n)'s been acting, both of them knew that it'll end in an emotional spiral. Matthew wanted to be there for her when that happens.

The young woman stared at her appearance in the mirror and tugged the corners of her lips to fabricate a smile. It was good enough to wear. She sent her friend a text saying that she was going to get ready. She changed her clothes, fixed her hair, and made her way out with her belongings at hand. Matthew was standing outside her door, holding his fluffy, white dog with the leash.

"Hey. There you are," Williams grinned as he sent a wave to his friend. "Come on. If we don't leave soon, the beach is gonna be filled with a ton of people and we won't have a spot for us." Kuma barked in agreement with his owner, causing (Y/n) to genuinely smile.

"I've already got my things so we can start heading out now." The young woman went over to the Canadian's car and placed her few things in the trunk. Kuma had already hopped onto the backseat, already secured and ready for the trip. (Y/n) rode shotgun with Matthew in the driver's seat. She was given the aux cord so she played whatever music interested her at the moment.

The drive to the beach was long but comfortably quiet. Somewhere through the drive, (Y/n) managed to fall asleep. It may have been general fatigue that knocked her out, or maybe it was due to the crying session she had prior to the trip. Maybe it was simply a little bit of both.

Matthew often looked to his side to check on his friend. His focus was on the road, sure, but when they were stopped at a light, he would take his glances. A sigh left him when he saw signs of what happened to her before he appeared at her door steps. Despite her going to therapy, it was still taking a toll on her. Matthew would know. He's been there before, though it wasn't as heavy hitting as hers.

He's always pondered how she got here, but he never fully dwelled on the thought for too long. Many people have different ways of getting to that point. It would be hard for him to understand where she was. She was dealing with a tough situation and he was only going to be there to support her.

Not question her.

The day was still relatively young when they arrived at the beach. It took them a while to get a parking spot but they were here. Just the two of them, at the beach. Other people were near the shore, like families and couples that took their afternoon strolls. (Y/n) sat around with Kuma as Matthew set up most of their things, from the umbrella to the cooler that held the snacks he prepared earlier today.

Kuma panted, feeling the heat warm him up. With a dog that had such a thick coat, he was barely surviving in this heat. What kept him going was the fan that had been pointed at his face. (Y/n) sat by the hound's side, staring at the clear blue water surrounding the grey beach. The sounds of people and the water comforted (Y/n), but there was a thought that stayed in her mind.

Jones.

A few letters ago, he mentioned pretty beaches and how he's always wanted to visit one with his significant other. As she stared at the water that threatened to come by their towels, she thought of him and his wish. She wanted to fulfill that with him, but she wasn't his. She could be, in her mind, but in reality, she can't.

Her eyes envisioned him with her. The image she's created of him may not be true to life, but this was her Jones. His glasses were pristine and his smile was stuck on his face. He wore his green uniform, his hat, and sparkling medals on his chest. He was with her and he was well. Though the image of him disappeared when Matthew called out to her.

"You're blanking out," the blonde told her. He sat in front of her, with his back turned toward the waves. "Here. I got some snacks from the cooler. I dunno if you've already eaten yet, but it'd be nice to have something for the stomach, you know." Matthew had a sweet smile on his face as he handed his friend the food he packed for today. (Y/n) stared at it and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Mattie." She'd take a bite and feel slightly better. She'd turn her gaze away to look at the spot Jones had been. Matthew noticed her look and did the same, finding no one near them, though he could find a couple playing in the water. Her eyes were still blank and it looked like she was having a hard time focusing on the moment.

"I know there's something on your mind, (Y/n)," Matthew confronted her.

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

Matthew noticed the sign and decided to give up almost immediately. He'd wait for her to tell him. It's no use trying to pry open something that didn't want to be opened. He would sit next to his dog, Kuma, who was now laying down on the blankets. The fan that kept him cool was still whirring in front of him as he took his afternoon nap.

The Canadian stared out to sea, watching the water crash onto the shore. (Y/n) was doing the same, except her eyes saw something different. Her beloved soldier was there, playing in the water, smiling at her. His speck of green stood out in the sea of blue.

She was seeing things.

The duo shared the silence as they sat around. (Y/n) broke their peace by saying, "Did you know...the letters mentioned a beach." Matthew looked to his friend, his eyebrow arching, asking her to continue.

"Jones...he wanted to go to the beach with his girlfriend," (Y/n) continued, "he was stationed at a beach when he wrote that letter. All he ever thought about was her, you know. It pains me a lot to think about it. How he might not even get to see her at a beach." The young woman hugged her legs, but her (e/c)-colored eyes continued to stare at the sea.

"I opened another letter today. The second to last one." There was hesitance in her voice. "He's dying, Matthew. And I'm scared that the last letter- tomorrow's letter- might be his written will." The man she was talking to would continue to be silent so she could voice her thoughts. That's all she needed to do anyway, to make herself feel just a bit better.

"I don't want to lose him. You know this already. That last letter is going to be the death of me."

Matthew's periwinkle eyes stared at his friend as he listened to her. "You know you have to let him go eventually. You can't let some dead soldier hang onto you and break you like this, (Y/n)." He hated seeing her go through something as painful as this, especially since her pain is coming from a dead man. Matthew can't confront the dead.

(Y/n) dipped her head and let out a muffled, "I know." Her heart broke just a bit when Matthew spoke to her. She knows he's right, but she's stubborn. She'll let Jones break her anyway. Matthew reached out to her and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her breaths becoming shallow. She was going to lose it. The blonde did his best to comfort her, through small rubs and pats on her shoulders.

He'd help her with breathing exercises and they worked, for the most part. It's hard to get rid of her thoughts about Jones though. Matthew didn't know that the beach would have such an effect on her. He should have planned this outing better. A hum leaves the Canadian as he looked at his friend. The friends connected gazes and smiled at each other.

"I'm okay," (Y/n) would tell him. They knew both she wasn't, but she was going to try and be better. Looking back at the sea, she'd spot the blue again. The speck of green was still there and the faint apparition of Jones lingered in the water. He no longer had a pristine uniform. Dried blood coated his haunting form and his glasses were cracked. She could never see his face but she always looked out for his smile.

It wasn't there anymore.

(Y/n) stared at the figure in the water, before the wave crashed over him, making him disappear completely. The young woman's lips pursed together and forced a smile. She hasn't told anyone about the visions she's been seeing because she knew that people would think of her as insane. No one would believe her if she said she was being haunted by the object of her fascination.

They spent today's afternoon lazing around the shore under the umbrella and playing. They build sandcastles and buried each other under the sand to distract (Y/n) from her thoughts. At the end of it all, they walked Kuma down the shore, letting the heated pup wet his feet to cool down. Kuma ended up being drenched in seawater, which Matthew had to clean once they were home.

To say that the beach hangout was a success would be a lie, but (Y/n) enjoyed spending time with her friend, Matthew. The blonde walked her to her home and made sure to give her his usual send-off for the night. He gently wrapped his arms around her for an embrace and kept her close for a bit. (Y/n) relished the hug and laughed a little when she felt her friend squeeze her.

"Good night, Mattie," she would say.

"Good night, (Y/n)," he'd reply back. "I trust you. Please don't do anything bad."

"I won't."

The two friends drifted apart and sent each other their final waves for the night. (Y/n) disappeared inside her cold, dark home. She lingered in there for a moment with her eyes scanning her surroundings for a hint of green amongst the void. Nothing, per usual. She turned on the lights of her home and got ready for dinner and her nightly routine.

It was the same old. Nothing ever changed.

The young woman would rest her head on her pillow and stare at the void that wrapped around her. She'd feel pressure at the foot of the bed, finding a glimpse of green.

This is the third time- now.

He moved ever so slightly in the dark. His broken glasses gleamed underneath the moonlight. (Y/n) stared at him before she moved. Her hand met his bloodied fingers halfway and they lingered there.

He was cold, colder than her freezer, colder than the artic, but the smile he held was warm and comforting. The young woman couldn't tell if she was hallucinating things or if his apparition was truly there. He began to shift into a blur the more she stared at him.

"Stay-" (Y/n)'s meek voice called out. His form could only smile.

Then he was gone.

"No-" she'd whispered after. Her fingers curled into a fist as she hugged her legs. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cried. This night would leave her with no sleep, as her tears and thoughts kept her awake. There was no need to worry though. She doesn't have work for another day, anyway.

The sun would rob the moon's spotlight, filling the world with light. It would seep through the tree that hid (Y/n)'s window. The young woman was at her bed as still as a rock. Her eyes were unmoving, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the day to pass.

Today was the last day, then after that, no more letters. A year has passed already, but it didn't feel like it.

She'd lose energy but she could never regain it. (Y/n) lacked the need to sleep as her mind was constantly busy. She'd move a limb, then another, until she's fully out of bed. She moved like the undead, trudging along her floor until she managed to limp to the bathroom. The darkness of it all gave her comfort. Her (e/c)-colored eyes looked for green but found nothing.

With a sigh, she turned on her lights and continued what she would usually do in the morning. (Y/n) corrected the bags under her eyes and practiced smiling. She's been doing this for a while now and there hasn't been significant progress. She could never feel truly happy.

Approaching the final day made her more miserable.

But unlike Jones, she has too much to live for. She needed to keep fighting whatever was bringing her down.

Once finished, she appeared in her bedroom again. (Y/n) looked at the spot she knew held the box. Her stare was intense and her body was as still as she could get. Anxiety filled her stomach immediately but she reached forward and opened it.

The last letter sat comfortably in its spot, waiting to be opened. (Y/n) didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Biting her lip, she plucked it from the bottom. There was something odd about this one. It was heavier than the others. It threw the woman off, but she pushed forward and she gently ripped the envelope.

The letter had been folded neatly inside and there were a few souvenirs too. The young woman knew that the man enjoyed sending home gifts, but these were different. She opened the paper and found dog tags and a black and white photo. (Y/n) looked at the photograph first.

There was a man posing for his photo. He appeared to have blonde hair and bright eyes with small, square glasses sitting atop his nose. His complexion was clear and pale but flushed cheeks. He had a gleaming smile that completed everything. He wore a dark uniform that held no badges or metals. The soldier was young, handsome, and didn't have a care in the world.

(Y/n) turned the photo around to find writing in pen that said, "Me! Send copies to Ma, Pa, and Mattie when able!" There was no mention of a feminine name anywhere, but that wasn't what she was hyper-fixated on right now. Her thoughts revolved around the idea that she can put a face to him now. Her heart jumped for joy, but at the same time, she brought herself down.

This was the last letter. She can't envision him after this is over. The fact made her emotional, which was enough to put some tears in her eyes. She placed his photo down and looked at the dog tags that accompanied the letter.

"Alfred F. Jones," she whispered. That was his name. Alongside it were numbers, his blood type, his religion, and another name, though this didn't seem like his girlfriend or anything. She was thinking it was his mother since it said "Mrs. F. Jones."

(Y/n) could be heard muttering his name over and over again. She still had the urge to call him Jones. Placing the memorabilia down, she turned her attention to the letter. It was pristine, but she finally noticed there were a few blood splotches on the edges. It's aged, dried blood, which was a cause of concern for her, but it didn't matter.

None of it matters anymore.

"Good morning, Alfred," she'd greet. It was much more personal now. "How are you doing, darling?" She'd try to make herself feel better, but the greeting caught her off guard. It sounded like he was distancing himself away. He didn't call her angel anymore.

To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well. I don't have that much time left in me, but I'd like to write down my feelings and my thoughts. I'm not asking for big audience, but if there is one, and you're the one, please listen to me. That's all I ask. I've been given a lot of paper, so I have enough to put down everything. At least I think so anyway. They say I can always ask for more, but I doubt I can. Breathing is getting significantly harder for me, but I'm trying to live just so I can write. I'm trying to unpack so that in the next life, I'll be given a fresh start. I want to leave everything here in my old body. I don't necessarily believe in the afterlife or in reincarnation, but I just want to leave my baggage here. Experiencing the near end of my life has given me a lot to think about. I've always thought it's impossible to find clarity in death, but now I'm getting first-hand experience and I can't help but think it's funny. I used to think it was strange but now I'm going through it right now. I've found peace in knowing that I'm going to leave soon and that has given me a clear head. I hope this is the first letter you've read because the past ones, the ones that will be sent to my home with this one, are filled with nonsense from a grieving madman. I don't care if you send these letters to a museum, just don't send them to my parents. Send them specifically to my house. If they've seen that their son has gone utterly insane over the years would hurt so much. You can put this anywhere you want, actually, just as long as someone reads them. It could be you, it could be anyone willing to listen to me. I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want others to know how a man can suffer because of this war. I don't know when you'll be finding these. You could be reading this years after I die. Just- you know, if you do happen to see my letters, please treat them with care, or not. Throw them away, just- please read them or send them somewhere where people actually care. You can even send it to a museum or something. Leave the rest of these letters unopened so the curators can read them. They'll treat these with care, that is if they are still in good health and these letters are legible, but if you want, you can also take care of them. I don't know why, though, but if you think it's fine then be my guest. But if this is the last letter you've read, then I have a few words to tell you. Thank you, and I'm sorry you've had the misfortune of knowing me. I appreciate the fact that you've read everything because that's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me, even if it'll take days or years for someone to find these. You could be anyone, really, and I wouldn't care who you are because regardless, I appreciate you. I'm grateful for your patience and your sympathy because the Lord knows someone like me doesn't deserve it. The thought of someone finding these letters and reading them is enough to make me happy on my deathbed. Thank you so much for taking the time of your day to listen to me and my stupid, incoherent ramblings. Hey, you've been with me the entire journey. You made it this far. If I caused something to you while you're reading the past few letters please know I didn't mean to hurt you. I appreciate your sympathy, I genuinely do, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I may have caused. I've caused too much to other people and the last thing I want is for another person to be hurt because of me.

There were tear stains on the next few pages, but they were still legible. The paper seems fresh too, but it looks somewhat aged.

My darling angel, This is to you personally. I know you're reading this because you've come this far and haven't discarded me yet. I have one thing to confess and I hope that you can listen to me and forgive me. I've hurt you the most and I realize this might hurt you even more. Please, I ask for you to forgive me and listen to the words I have to say. Throughout my life, I didn't think angels ever existed. I'm not a religious man myself, but through the course of the war, I've started to believe God placed an angel to watch over me. You kept me happy and made me sane when things were rough. But the thing is- You never existed. You were never a physical person. In a way, you made me go mad. With some clarity, I realize that creating you was just my brain reaching for ways to feel better. Maybe my silent prayers were heard and God actually placed an angel to be with me from the start. Maybe I willed you into existence. But- You initially came in a form of a joke. I pretended to have a girlfriend because I felt left out. I thought it was funny to pretend to have someone to love. The rest of my friends had their own girlfriends to write to, but I was the only one who didn't have one. So I decided to play along and pretend that you existed, but then the more I wrote to you, a person who doesn't even exist, you became something to me. You never had a physical body because you stemmed from my imagination. I projected to you the qualities I had. I also gave you hobbies I wanted to see. I believed that you were listening to me because Lord knows that's all I needed while I was fighting this damn stupid war. I made myself fall in love with the idea of you, which is by far the stupidest but the best thing I've done in my life. While I was thinking of you, you felt so real to me. It came to the point where I thought you were a living, breathing person that could actually write back to me. Everyone else was getting letters and I didn't. Not getting anything from you made me frustrated, but I held on to you so much because you're all I had. It pains me that you never existed, because I would have loved you so much, wholeheartedly. I would have done everything for you because the idea of you made me so happy. You were my everything. I find my words weird and crazy the more I write them now, but this is how I genuinely feel. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination, but if by some miracle, you truly exist, I would have loved to see you. To hold you, to bring you out on dates, to kiss you. I want to do everything with you and I hope that in another life, I get to meet you. God has to be merciful enough to give me another chance. Maybe I'll win the life lottery in the next one, eh? I genuinely am sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've tried making it up to you. I promised you that I'd be the moon to your stars, that I'd be there to protect you. I've done all I can. I don't know if I could ever become a ghost, or whatever the hell exists out there, but if I could, I would be there at night, watching over you. I'd keep any dangers away from you because I'd hate to see you get hurt. I've already hurt you so much, I don't want anything else harming you. I know it's a lot to unpack. I know I've rambled. I know I've said a lot of shit, but it's all how I feel. This is the baggage I'll leave this body. I know I don't have that much time anymore so I'll cut it here. Breathing is getting hard for me but hey, I think I'll die peacefully. Thank you, my darling. I hope I get to see you in another life. I'll find my way to you again. I promise. I love you. Lovingly, and always forever yours, Alfred

Silence hung in (Y/n)'s bedroom as she stared at the letter in her hands. He was right. There is a lot to unpack, but the young woman doesn't have enough strength to handle it right now. Her vision is blurred with her tears, which dripped down to the paper. Her hands were shaking and soon enough her body would follow.

Heat seeped through her room, but the area in front of her was deathly cold. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she could see just a bit clearer. Before her was an apparition of Alfred. He wore a clean, green uniform with brand-new glasses. The rest of him was in black and white, mimicking his appearance in his photograph.

Alfred knelt in front of her with his hands cupping her own. He held his usual bright smile but tears also ran down his cheeks.

"I love you too, Alfred," she'd whisper. "I loved you so much."

They stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, he'd rise and press his lips against hers.

A final parting gift.

The young woman would take at this moment and she'd close her eyes. They lingered for a bit before he'd leave. There were no more traces of him in her vision. She stared at the clear floor. The perpetual cold temperature of her room disappeared completely and the heavyweight that constantly rested on her shoulders disappeared.

Her mind was given clarity, but her chest was heavy with grief. This was the general grief experienced after losing a loved one though. It wasn't like the one she's felt over the past few months. She didn't feel the world on her shoulders anymore.

But this was at the cost of Jones.

He no longer haunted her.

Perhaps the remnants of his soul have served their purpose and have gotten what they wanted.

(Y/n) smiled as she blankly stared at the spot Alfred knelt at. She'd eventually approach her door to try and get her day started. To make herself think about something else. To start the process of healing. Before she could leave she'd hear a whisper in her ear.

"I loved you too, (Y/n)."

#i forgor to post this #sorry yall #hws america x reader #hws x reader #hetalia x reader #hetalia #alfred f jones x reader #aph america x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

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