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romana-after-dark · 5 months ago

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Sacrificial Lamb

Darkish!Marcus Acacius x Virgin!fem!Reader

Masterlist

Co-written with the bestest @ariundercovers thank you so so so much for helping me with this and adding so much!!!!

Summary: Desperate to win a battle, Marcus Acacius sends a request for a maiden to sacrifice her life and her body for the good of your city.

Warnings: NOT COMPREHENSIVE! This is a DARK FIC, treat it as such. Illusions and talk of human sacrifice, virginity loss, knife play, blood play, (it's not really play they are going at it), body carving, public sex, ritualistic sex, PIV sex, dark content but everyone is having a funky good time.

Immersivity: Reader is fem, had long hair, is called "little lamb" but that's not a reference to her size. Reader refers to herself as roman.

I'm a history major but this is not meant to be historical lol anchient history is not my area of interest. I tried to include things I knew, like Roman values, but thats about it.

4.5k words

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You’d sacrifice yourself on his altar again and again if he made you feel like this.

To feel his hands explore your body, rough skin with a gentle touch. To feel him kiss your lips, undressing you as dozens watched. To feel the prick of his knife defile you just as he did.

“Look at me. Look at me, only me. I am your god now.”

You were to be sacrificed for the greater good, for the gods to favor general Acacuis in this vital battle, a battle that would decide the fate of your city and all those in it. Should his armies fail, all those you held dear could be sold into to slavery, killed, or suffered much worse fates. So, when General Acacius put out a request, the highest calling a woman could offer outside of bearing sons, it surprised you that no one took it by the time word reached you outside the city.

General Acacuis made a call to all the virgins of your city, asking to make the ultimate sacrifice, and when you stood in front of him in all his beauty, you were not fearful. You were resolute in your decision.

Now, he leans against his throne, eyeing you in your robes as you remain knelt to the ground on both knees, your body bowed before him in his parlor.

“Do you understand what you are sacrificing, little lamb?”

You don’t look up. You don’t dare. “Yes, my lord. I am to sacrifice my life so that my city and my people are safe.”

You can hear the sound of robes russling. “Not only that, but your maidenhood. The ceremony will require me to deflower you on an altar. Publically.”

Swallowing hard, you force down your anxiety. “I… I did not know that, my lord.”

He walks towards you, the sound of his footsteps the only thing signaling you of his approach. Suddenly, his voice is right in front of you. You dare not open your eyes. “Does this change your decision?”

You hesitate, body shaking. You would say yes, because of course you would, you just needed to breathe. “I… I-”

Sudden but gentle, you feel his hands on your face, coaxing you to look up at him and you do as he urges. His features strike you, angular but soft. His nose was aquiline, strong as he was, a symbol of his power and the genes he would breed into whatever woman he lay. Still, there was a softness about him, full cheeks and eyes that pooled in brown. His arms were like oak trees, dark and strong; freckles smothered his face but were only noticeable from this close.

The General’s hands held your chin firm.

“Is this your decision, fair lady?” His eyebrows raise, frown lines in his face a telling sign of his age. “It is only yours to make, none other.”

Basking in his warmth, in the glow of his pained eyes, you nod. “Yes, my lord. It is my duty and my honor.”

He gives your face a little squeeze. “Good girl.” Releasing your head in favor of taking your hand, he speaks louder now, more formal. Gone is his warmth, once again your lord. “Rise.” He aids you to stand, hands moving to your arms, playing with the sleeves of your dressage. “Now, I must inspect you. Are you ready?”

You take a steadying breath, and when you release, you agree.

Slow and steady, the general pulls down the sleeves, relieving your breasts, stomach, and soon your unscathed womanhood. Your dress pools at your feet, your nakedness laid bare before your lord. General Acacius takes a step back, admiring you as he looks down from where he stands tall and proud, in his armor. He was practicing in the courtyard when you answered his call, and he had not changed, smelling such of masculinity that you craved him, carnally. Marcus Acacius paces around you, eyeing every inch you had to offer, viewing you like an animal at the market.

“Beautiful…” The general murmurs to himself before walking up behind you. The metal plating of his chest plate connects to your back, and a shiver of cold strikes your body, but when he wraps his arms around your person you are once again comforted. His body is so warm, fire and burning, burning, burning power so evident in his grasp. A sun god in your presence… Apollo in the flesh.

He caresses your body, his large right hand rising up to hold your breast, his left lowering to your untouched maidenhood. He tweaks your nipple with his fingers, tugging at it experimentally, and the other one peaks and stiffens in response. He groans in satisfaction and dips his head to mouth at your throat, lips and teeth scraping across your exposed skin. His fingers travel across your chest to the other side then, pinching and tugging at that nipple and you gasp at the way it sends a shock straight to your core.

But his other hand… that hand teases at your mound, fingers raking through the hair there. His hand parts your legs then, stepping wider to accommodate him. When his finger parts your folds, you hear a low chuckle. “Wet already, my maiden?” His fingertip trails up and down your crevices, catching at your untouched entrance once, then twice, and then hesitating at that bundle of nerves, swirling around it a few times. The way he plays with your folds makes you whimper, eyes closing as you rest your head back against his chest, worried that you might faint at the feeling of his hands all over you. You can feel him smile against your neck before he removes his fingers from you, but not before another long swipe through your soaking wet folds, collecting some of your slick that he’s managed to make pour out of you already. “You must wait for the ceremony, I fear… Still, a taste won’t hurt…”

The general presses his fingers to your mouth, and you’re unsure for a moment, one hand lifting to grasp his thick wrist, cuffed with metal links. “Open, little lamb,” he commands, and you obey. You can only ever obey. His fingers press into your mouth, against your tongue, and you close your lips around them. The taste is foreign to you, but not unpleasant, and you start to greedily suck on his fingers, licking the tangy sweet arousal from the rough pads of his fingers.

He pulls away from you all too soon, hands groping your abdomen and ass for a long moment before he groans in displeasure and leaves you, alone and naked and overwhelmingly heated with arousal.

You were moved into the palace immediately, as preparation for the ceremony would take a few days. You say a tearful goodbye to all your friends and family; they are who you are doing this for, to protect them.

Still, you’d be lying if you had said you hadn’t found a new motivation, something else that piqued your interest. You hadn’t forgotten the general’s touch, his smell, his face. Marcus Acacius was angelic, a figure sculpted by the gods themselves; you could swear you’d seen his likeness on a statue somewhere.

He watched as you bathed, handmaids scrubbing you down every day, washing your hair. Then, he sat there still as you stood, scanning over you as the maids doused you in perfumes and oils, clothing you in silk. You were to live your last days as royalty. Since entering his home, you were treated with nothing but utmost respect, feeding you the finest foods and wines, things you’d never been afforded in your simple lifestyle. You loved that he watched you naked, and you hoped you were pleasing to his eye.

He stood. “Leave us,” General Acacius ordered, his eyes directly on yours and never leaving as your handmaidens filed out. You’re standing in the tub still, your lord offering his hand for you to step out. You should be ashamed of your nakedness, you know it, but he was to deflower you in 2 days time, mark you with his sigil and that of Mars, piercing your heart with a knife in a prayer to Mars himself.

General Acacius scans your body, his palm on your hip sliding up to cup your breast. He liked to play with your flesh, you’ve noticed, intimate moments such as these where he held you close, held you fast, comforted you even though there was no future for you past these final days.

“My beautiful sacrifice…” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours as you stand with heavy breaths. “Such a waste, such a shame…”

“It’s not a shame, my lord…” You assure him, firm in your stance. “It is for the good of my city, my family.”

A quiet tsk, tsk, tsk falls off his lips. “So much honor in such a young thing.” His lips brush yours, and you gasp.

“General Aca-”

“Marcus.” His voice is gruff, stern, ordering you to comply with this infringement on formality. “I will be inside you, soon enough. You may use my given name.” He places a hand on your cheek, thumb against the plush of your lips.

You nod against him. “M-Marcus, should we-”

He pressed himself fully against you, kissing you tenderly. When he pulls away, his eyes have the blackness that often accompanies these hushed encounters. As Marcus deepens the kiss, he squeezes your face so that your mouth opens to him.

“Such a shame…” He repeats, a low rumbling from his throat, pulling at your lip gently between his teeth. “To waste such a beautiful, honorable young lady… how is it no one has taken you as their wife, hm?” Ever careful not to harm his sacrifice, Marcus wraps his large hand around your throat as he licks a stripe up the column of your neck. “That no one has ever taken you to bed, ravaged your sweet body, claimed your maidenhood as theirs… seems almost unbelievable.”

Gasping at the implied doubt, you pull your face away from him but his hand remains on your throat, looking him in the eyes with earnesty, begging to be believed. “M-my lord! I would not lie, I swear to you I am intact-”

He squeezes on your delicate neck, cutting off your words and just a little bit of your breathing, his eyes, usually dark chasms, are fiery and alight, not only demanding your submission but taking it. His clothed body presses against your naked form.

Still, his voice is comforting. “I believe you, sweet lamb. No one would lie in order to die by my hand in a ritual sacrifice. Relax, enjoy these final days.” Swift as lightning, Marcus’s lips were at your ear again. “And resist the urge to stuff your fingers in your cunt tonight. Let me be the one to break you, not the fantasy.” And with that, he left you standing there in the bathing room, your legs dripping with something other than water.

Your bare feet are cold on the marble floor. The rest of you is hot with anxiety.

Your last day on this earth, before you meet your painful end and join the souls of your lost loved ones in the otherworld. Paying your sacrifice meant no others would join you until their just time.

You were bathed, your hair brushed with expensive oils before it was woven in intricate braids at the top, falling freely at your shoulders. You were crowned in a laurel wreath, painted in gold. Loose white robes fell around you, a symbol of your purity, and you were draped in a purple sash. You were royalty, if only for today.

Were there drums? Or was the beating from you? The thud-thud, thud-thud of your heartbeat made it impossible to hear the people speaking to you, so you merely nodded along. Prayers were said by your handmaidens, all of them wailing to the Gods, crying out that this not be in vain. You’d grown attached in the week you’d been together, and for only a woman you’d wished you’d been brought to the general for a different purpose, brought to become Lady Acacius.

But your wishes were short lived.

You were raised to follow all things that made a good Roman. You were brave, honorable, respected authority, respected the household gods, loved your city and your family. All this came into play when you offered your body to the general. All this was in your heart as you walked through the opening door, leaving your attendants behind, and entering a room filled with only men.

Although the strange and distorted faces in the flames of candles scared you, your eyes were quickly pulled to him.

Him.

General Acacius stood in front of the altar, clothed in white and gold; he wore a matching gold laurel wreath to yours.

The lighting accentuated his sharp angles, the shadow cast by his nose on to his cheek made your breathing stutter, drawing ever closer to him. Step by shaking step, you approached your fate.

Strong hands steadied you. “It’s alright, little lamb.” He assured you, speaking low and deep for your ears only. “I’ll take care of everything. Have no fear.”

And you don’t. Your heart rate drops to a normal pace, your body temperature cooling, save for your frigid toes. Nothing to be done there. Marcus undoes your robes, letting them fall at your feet in waves of purple and white-turned-orange by the flickering flames. When it’s all said and done, you were to be burned in a funeral pyre, the same flames burning down your body for the good of your people. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Next, he lays you down on the altar. The cool slab of marble sends a run of chills over your skin, but Marcus stands between your spread legs, warm hands rubbing on your goosed flesh. He makes it feel better. You try not to think too hard about the fact you are bare naked for at least 2 dozen men, but it was okay. Marcus was there. A stranger walks up and takes your hands and at first you gasp simply in shock.

“Do not worry, he is acting as instructed.”

The man goes to tie your hands, and you passively protest.

“My lord, I need not be restrained, I promise-”

“It is not to keep you here, little lamb.” He assures you, still caressing and kneading the meat of your thighs. It was incredible how large he was, how broad; his shadow swallows your body. “I do not wish to have anyone here who needs to be restrained. This is to keep your body taut as I mark you.”

When you die, you are to go to the underworld as all shall. When you meet Pluto, you are to show him the marking on your stomach, and he would know you were sacrificed and inform Mars, whose sigil would be marked next to the house of Acacius. If Mars finds your sacrifice worthy, your virginity, your life, your beauty and youth, he will grant the General good favor.

But first, your maidenhood.

The room was dead silent as the General stripped down, unfastening the clasp at your shoulder. In wonderment, you watch as his body is revealed to you, even as the candles largely shine on his back. He was stunning. The peak of masculinity, of manhood, not only his body but his stature and presence so all encompassing that you can’t help but wonder if he was Juptier himself, come down from the heavens to take another maiden as his. You would gladly suffer Classisto and Io’s fates for once chance with him.

As your eyes travel down, you can still see some scars in the dim lighting; raised pieces of flesh that make you wish you could have tended to his injuries… but your thoughts are soon distracted. You’ve never seen a cock before, barely knew what it looked like, but as the General strokes himself approaching you, you were mesmerized. It was thick, thick enough you weren’t sure it could fit, but you’d never even tried to fit anything inside you, so how would you know? The tip was covered by a layer of skin that pulled back to reveal the head with every upstroke of Marcus’s hand… fat, blunt, ready to split you open. You’re well aware of the liquid leaking from you to the altar.

“Perfect offering, aren’t you?” He asks, but it's rhetorical, his eyes distracted as he reaches between your legs to play with that sensitive spot, that place your hand wandered to on cold, lonely nights, seeking comfort in your own touch. You weren’t completely clueless, you’d pleasured yourself plenty without breaking yourself open and you had done so minutes before beginning the ceremony. You wanted to be wet for him. Marcus’s eyes connect to yours as he touches your slicked up center; he knows what you did.

“I am ready, my lord.”

“It seems you are.”

His cock spreads the lips of your cunt with agonizing slowness, your voice not even trying to hide the moans of pain and pleasure to the crowd of men, many of whom you noticed were entering states of undress. Your body is already writhing, the slow pace driving you mad and you can already tell you’re moments away from begging for more, willing to be remembered as the young woman who died begging for cock. Just as you were about to burst, to scream at him to just do it, Marcus bends over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes glow in the candlelight. One hand reaches up to where you are bound, interlacing with your fingers. “Hold on to me, little lamb.”

You do as you are told, as he thrusts into your body, breaking open your hymen and spilling the blood between your legs onto the altar, staining it with you forever. Your memory would lay here in his home the rest of his life, speaking to him even in prayer.

Marcus fucks you now, his fat cock dragging in and out of your channel, claiming you again, and again, and again, and for a moment you forget where you are. You forget you’re being watched. You forget you are to die until Marcus slows his movements, pulling out the freshly sharpened knife meant for your skin.

“My little lamb, my offering, my perfect sacrifice…” He kisses your lips, something not a part of the ritual, and makes a show of him claiming your face for his audience. Marcus will take care of you, and your name will go down in honor for the rest of time.

Stuffed full of him, Marcus never stops fucking you, never stops sliding himself in and out of your cunt, teasing you as he pulls away, placing the knife at your stomach. It wouldn’t be deep; there wouldn’t be time to heal so it didn’t need to be. There was no sense in hurting you more than need be, he had said to you.

Stretched out, your arms above your head and tied down with silks, your gasp in pain as the first mark is made, scraping over your skin. He begins with his sigil, smack dab in the middle of your stomach. As you glance down, noting the size of the mark he’s making, you wonder where Mars is intended to go, how there will even be space for the second mark he had to make. But those thoughts are tucked away as he begins to move his hips again, pounding himself deeply into you. Little trickles of red droplets bubble on your skin from the cuts, morphing your body into something that was his, and his alone.

When you look at him, his eyes nearly black as the day you first entered his court, you wondered if he had any intention of marking Mars’ sigil on you.

“I’m gonna take care of you, little lamb.”

WIth one last cut, he locks onto your eyes, gripping the knife still. You think this must be it, he will now take your life and you’ll die impaled on his cock. Instead, he takes the tip of the knife to his own stomach, careful and sure movements carving your first initial onto him. And then, his body joined yours again.

Nothing in this world felt better than blood on blood.

He cut loose your binds and dropped the knife, the clatter echoing onto the floor as he climbed onto the altar, fucking himself into you with the vigor of a general on the battlefield, like winning this, winning you was what truly mattered.

Suddenly you piece it all together and realize something. You realize that you weren’t going to die today.

Fearful of the repercussions, of the others' reactions when they figure out he wasn’t going to sacrifice you, your head turns to the dozens of men surrounding you. The candles were sparse and placed away from the altar, brighter near you, leaving you without much to work with in terms of vision. As your cunt begins to tighten in that all consuming feeling, your eyes trying to close in pleasure as you try to make out the figure in the room. Dancing shadows on the wall, figures combining and moving together; bent over and close and grunting, red and orange and yellow and black swirling together. You couldn’t tell if the sounds of skin on skin were from near or far anymore.

Marcus’s hand cups your face, turning you away from the debauchery surrounding you and back to meet his eyes.

“Look at me. Look at me, only me. I am your god now.” His eyes bore into yours, pounding your pussy so harshly you could hear the wetness as you are torn apart. Marcus grips your face harshly, but his other hand swirling your over sensitive clit is tender. “You only worship me now, my sweet offering. I am the only thing that matters to you.”

And he is.

General Marcus Acacius is your god, and you will worship knelt at his feet for as long as he shall have you.

His thrusts start to falter, and he picks your leg up, notching it in the crook of his elbow as he starts to push himself deeper, touching parts of your body you hadn’t known had any feeling at all. “Cum for me.” He demands, commanding your body to his whim the way he commands his armies. “Cum on my cock, little lamb.”

Your hands reach for his forearms, fingers gripping tightly into the strong, lean muscle you find there beneath your fingertips. “W-want-” You swallow hard, staving off that feeling in your belly so warm you no longer notice the cold on your back. “Want to be filled, my lord.”

The general cups your face, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “You will, you will, but first,” The pinch on your cheek takes you by surprise. “You must cum for me.” He lets go, but does not relent in his demand. “Let me feel you, little lamb, let me feel you cum on a cock for the first time.”

It doesn’t take much more work on his part for him to build you up into a frenzy, your walls fluttering pathetically around him as you pant, heaving oxygen back into your body from every thrust that seems to knock it right out of you. His hand still holds tightly to your face, dipping his head down now to bite his teeth harshly into your lip, your jaw, then your neck. You whimper at the feeling, eyes rolling back in your head as the combination of rough and pain and the pleasure of his cock and his fingers working you, and you finally fall apart for him, your body spasming beneath his, back arching up into his movements.

“There it is, sweet one. Give it to me. Give it to your god.” His face turns positively wicked as he hikes your leg up a little higher, the hand on your face now moving down to your throat as he squeezes lightly, reminding you of exactly who you belong to, exactly who you’ve been promised to, urged to as the very sacrificial lamb. He only barely starts to cut off your breathing with his grip, but one of your hands reaches for his anyway, holding onto his wrist as he puts the added pressure against your throat.

Your body is still quaking beneath him as he works you right through that orgasm and sends you hurtling quickly toward another. Or, was it actually just the same one? There aren’t an thoughts left in your head to try and make sense of it, nothing left to try to figure out what’s going on in your body.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway. You were his. Only his. You were General Acacius’ to do as he pleased with, and if he preferred to kill you with cock, you’d die happily that way, too.

Your blathering and bumbling beneath him slows as he lets go of your throat, growling with a frantic need above you. His thrusts stutter, hips spearing into you erratically, and you have a sense that perhaps his pleasure might come soon, too.

“Please! Please, my lord, fill me. Fill me properly, I only want to please you-” Your words come out pathetic and whining, the strength of your orgasm short-circuiting your brain as you try to make sense of the situation, make sense of the pleasure and panic you feel.

“You’ll take my mark, and my cock, and my seed, little lamb. You’ll take everything I give you.” He groans lowly, a sound that bubbles up from deep in your chest, and you can feel the way he twitches inside of you. Then suddenly, he roars above you and there’s an explosion of warmth, a feeling that spreads throughout your belly, welling up into your chest and face, heating you from the inside out. You’re burning again, burning in white hot flames as he empties himself deep into your womb.

Everything pauses, pleasure soaking into your body, the sweat cooling on your skin as your God’s full weight crashes on you, protecting your body from the view of the onlookers finishing in and on each other around you.

“Leave.” He barks, his face tucked into your neck.

A beat of silence.

“My lord… the sacrifice…” A nameless, faceless man objects from the corners.

You begin to turn to him, but Marcus adjusts up and keeps you from looking. “They don’t deserve your gaze, little lamb.” Then, he sat up on his knees, cock still buried inside you. He looks to the crowd.

“I’VE HAD A VISION!” Marcus exclaims, shouting to the others. “Mars does not desire her to be sacrificed to him, but to be taken as my wife!” He looks down at you, brown eyes swimming with continued lust even as his cock softs in your channel. “Our children shall be blessed by him, great warriors and ladies… and we shall win our battle. Do you accept, little lamb?”

It wasn’t even a question for a moment.

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Thank you thank you thank you for reading!!! I appriciate every like, reblog, and comment!!!!

A note, I decided to add a tip option with Buy Me a Coffee and Ko-fi. PLEASE DONT FEEL OBLIGATED A ALL!!! I do this for fun and enjoyment not to get paid. It's just there <3

I know the fandom seems messy right now, but you are all special <3

I dont have a taglist anymore, but follow @romana-updates to keep up!

Tagging those who expressed interest

@mangoslushcrush @yeet268 @littlekate @lunar-ghoulie @admiralackbarssugarbaby @jackie923 @fan-fiction-floozy @spidey-3 @princessanglophile @ladyofmidlo72 @fandxmslxt69

#marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #general Marcus acacius x reader #dark Marcus acacius #dub con #tw dubcon #body marking #tw blood #gladiator 2 #the gladiator 2 #marcus acacius smut #fem reader #general marcus acacius smut

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snailfen · 1 month ago

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funny ii character music tastes headcanons:

i think if you showed suitcase adrienne lenker she would not emotionally recover. the sound and vulnerability in her songs would get to her. also Not from her band Big Thief would specifically would hit her hard

knife listens to lady gaga. to me knife is like that really gruff and masculine but not homophobic coworker and if you asked him if he was gay he'd say "probably" while like lighting a cigarette and then turning on heavy metal lover or something

i think lightbulb would listen to any song as long as its not depressing or sad but truthfully i really think she would like weird al's polka remixes. like taking any song and making it fun and silly is definitely a lightbulb thing

cheesy would also like weird al but not the same way lightbulb does. other than that i think he really likes any song with particularly clever wordplay

soap would unironically be a big video game OST listener i feel. its better music for when youre doing something like cleaning!

trophy doesnt listen to music often instead he turns on some fuckass male-only podcast but not even one thats like misogynistic or abt the sigma male grindset its just these two guys trying to get big off of talking about anything and its really uninteresting but not to trophy. anyways thats what he listens to while he struggles to get through a pushup

oh go ahead and show taco chappell roan i think she'd really like femininomenon. oh and also im sure the situationship songs wont get to her

nickel listens to weezer. source: it came to me in a dream and i have no other rationale for it

#any thoughts chat #inanimate insanity #ii #mossball.txt #ii suitcase #ii knife #ii lightbulb #ii cheesy #ii soap #ii trophy #ii taco #ii nickel

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deanscherrypie420 · 3 months ago

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𝓔𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵

A/N: Hi everyone! This is just a short idea I've had in my mind... I might rewrite later. I know it's been awhile, forgive me if I'm rusty 😭

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Pairing : Y/N X Dean Winchester

A/N: This was literally all inspired by that one part of Chihiro by Billie Eilish, where it's super high pitched (Makes me feel magical)

Warnings: Blood! Violence! Angsty! Fluff at the end!

----------------‐---‐—-------------------

Her mind was clear, the sunlight dancing on her skin. As she twirled and spun throughout the grass, she hummed a relaxing melody.

The scenery was beautiful. A large pond circled by a small field, all engulfed by the rich forest. The ripe shades of green, the sound of nothing but an empty mind... It was all perfect.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, two hunters were closing in on her. They knew they were looking for a witch, they just didn't expect someone so... mystical?

"Don't do it, it could kill her." Sam whispered to his brother. Dean wasn't listening as well as he could have been, all of his attention drawn to her. He sighed and shook his head.

"She'll be fine."

Suddenly, she stumbled forward, a seering pain in her abdomen. All of the sound was gone as she stared at the blood seeping from her belly.

It all unfolded in slow motion, getting shot and then tackled to the ground, a blade digging into her neck. Her ears were still ringing, but she could hear the faint sound of yelling.

"Awh, sweetheart, don't look so surprised. You knew this was comin'." The man on top of her hissed. Her eyes were wide, shock evident in her features.

The taller man stood behind him, staring down at you with guilt. Her attention was pulled back to Dean as he pushed the blade deeper into her skin, tearing the surface and leaving a line of crimson.

The sun seemed to burn brighter as he barked at her, demanding answers to questions she couldn't answer. "Don't be shy, doll. We need answers and we need them now!"

She bit her tongue, tears welling in her eyes. Dean just scoffed and adjusted the blade in his hand. "You did this to yourself."

He cut down her arm, a deep, deep slice all the way down her forearm, reaching her palm. She screamed, and the energy in the forest shifted.

Birds flew from their trees and animals scattered away.

Her hand latched onto his, squeezing it hard enough for the blade to cut into his hand. "What the hell?" He spat.

"Dean, run!" Sam shouted as he pulled his brother off of the girl.

In near seconds she was on her feet, the knife now in her hand. She approached the taller man, grabbing him by the collar and pressing her forehead to his. He collapsed without another word.

Dean grunted on the ground, struggling to get up. "What did you do to him, bitch!" He yelled, but she wasn't finished.

She twirled the blade in her fingers as she turned back for the other Winchester. When she met him, she sunk the blade into his shoulder.

Now, she was on top of him. Only now did he realize her eyes were a glowing white.

"What do you want from me?" She seethed, her face meere inches away from his. "Get off me, you bitch!" He retaliated.

She twisted the handle of the knife, sending sharp pains throughout Dean's body. "We just wanted to know if you're the crazy lady handing out wishes!" He spat, and she froze.

Her eyes flickered, returning back to their normal Y/E/C. "What about my wishes?" She whispered back, an uneasy expression weary on her face.

"They're killing people, lady! Don't you get how sick that is!" He hollered, finally gaining the strength to shove her off.

She didn't move, sitting absently on the grass. He looked down at her, anger bubbling within him. "Whats the matter, huh?"

"Thats not what I wanted." She murmured. When her eyes met his, they were glossy and sad. His jaw ticked and he gave in.

"Wake up Sammy and we'll sort it out."

---------------------------

They were sitting on rocks that surrounded the pond. The silence that surrounded them was suffocating, like a pressure that kept squeezing her.

Turns out, demons don't like magic very much. Every wish she granted was one life taken. She thought she was doing good, helping people get what they needed... only to find out some asshole demon was ruining it.

Each person whose wish came true ended up getting killed - and tortured - by a demon.

She sat with her knees to her chest, picking at the fabric of her pants. Sam cleared his throat and gave a lopsided smile.

"It's not like you could've known. It's not your fault that this happened." He tried, but she just shook her head and got up, wiping tears from her eyes.

"The last wish I granted was to a little girl. We have to find her, we have to make sure she's safe."

The brothers nodded and she followed them back to the Impala. The car ride was pretty quiet, only the turned down radio in the background.

Dean couldn't help but stare at her. He even adjusted his mirror so he could get a better view.

She was just trying to help people, he thought. She didn't deserve this. He could tell that she was a kind person, the type of person he would usually tease, but circumstances were different.

He felt nothing short of horrible.

When they arrived at the girls house, it was dark. The pair snuck her inside so she could reverse the spell. She stood over the girls bed with tears spilling from her eyes.

"One day your wish will come true. I'm sorry it's not today." She whispered, placing her fingers against the girls heart.

---------------

Dean insisted she stay at their motel, as it might not be safe for her. Sam was out on a food run, leaving the two of them alone.

"It's not fair.." She mumbled, sitting at the edge of his bed. He turned to her and raised a brow. "You'll get used to it, demons are nasty sons of bitches."

She just looked up at him and frowned.

He thought his heart melted.

She had such beautiful eyes, and her skin seemed to glow. He took a moment to really process her and all of her glory. She really just wanted to do the right thing, help people.

She was right. It wasn't fair.

He walked over and held out his hands, giving them a gentle shake so she knew to grab them. She did, and he brought her to her feet.

"What are you doing..?" She huffed, and he smiled, wrapping her in a hug. "You look like you could use one."

She let out a strained laugh, nestling her face into his chest. "Thank you, Dean."

He pressed a kiss into her hair, soaking up the moment.

It wasn't often that you found genuinely pure souls in his line of work. Everyone had a motive, some sort of agenda to work behind, but her? Not one in sight.

Just a heart of gold, a beautiful mind, and an even prettier smile. He exhaled and held her tighter.

He liked this one, and he hoped to keep her.

---------------

A/N: Sorry it's so short and sad 😭 I didn't even know it would take that turn 😭🤣 Let me know if you want a more romantic part two! I hope you all enjoyed it <3

Feel free to like, reblog and follow!! <333

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cactusisconfused · 14 days ago

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My brain has yet again made another thought, enjoy.

Ghost had heard of day of the dead before, of course, he has. He’d not practiced it, nor thought anything of it really. Wasn’t exactly a man for traditions.

That thought hadn’t really changed until he was sitting in Mexico for his then second time.

Graves had betrayed them, the bastard, and now Soap is who knows where with who knows what injury. On instinct Ghost slips into the darkness, footsteps making no sound and the necks of the shadows split by his knife before sound could arise.

As Ghost moves, waiting patiently to hear something from Soap does he take a moment to pause and look around. It’s late October, Las Alma’s clearly beginning to set up its decor and altars for day of the dead. He slips into a small house he’s found a moment of refuge in. Thats when he sees the alter, a small thing may it be.

There’s a few frames holding pictures of different people, black and white photos, saturated and grainy photos and recent ones. Some of them are of a child, an older lady and man. A cat with a bow tie.

Surrounding the photos are bright orange marigolds. Somewhere, in Simon’s buried memories does he hear his mother from his youth. She had loved marigolds. Loved the color, the shape. He hadn’t realized he had forgotten. Isn’t sure how to feel about forgetting.

Ghost didn’t look for long though, despite the thoughts surrounding his head. He had to keep moving and ensure Johnny got out of all this alive once he finally radioed back.

The thoughts of the altar and marigolds leave his mind for that time being and don’t resurface for a long while later.

He and Johnny had gotten into a relationships one unlike the other had ever had and never once would they trade it for anyone else.

It’s when they’re on leave, walking down a street in Edinburgh when Simon peeps a small flower shop, marigolds on display.

He hadn’t meant to stop, truly he didn’t. But his brain could only conjure up his mother’s face and then, for the first time in years, that altar back in Las Almas.

Johnny of course clocks Simon’s sudden stop and his lingering gaze on the folded orange flowers.

“Ye wanna go in there, Si?” Johnny asks quietly, his thumb rubbing the Brit’s hand as they hold each other’s. Simon shakes his head, forcing his eyes away.

“I’m alright.” Johnny can see there’s more than Simon is letting on, but he gives a soft smile regardless and nods. They begin continue their walk, Soap making sure to remember the shop.

A few days pass, the autumn wind has truly kicked in as October comes closer to its end. Simon had gone to the gym, Johnny staying home, saying he had ‘things to do’ which awarded the Scot with a raised eyebrow.

When Simon comes back home, he finds the dining room table set with dinner, the lights dimmed and a vase of marigolds sitting on display.

“I saw you looking at them the other day, figured you might like them.” Johnny says with a slightly nervous smile. Simon can’t help but let out a small huff of a laugh, something made out of pure adoration. God Simon loved his boyfriend.

It’s after they eat, now settled on the couch resting in each other’s arms, does Simon formulate the thoughts that have refused to take shape in his head for so long.

“You know of day of the dead?” Simon asks softly, his hand combing through Johnny’s outgrown Mohawk. The Scot mods with an “aye, I have.”

“I was thinking…” Simon starts, his eyes moving to the vase sitting in the table. “We could set up an altar.” Simon says with an unsure lilt to his voice. While Simon hadn’t really participated in traditions in his life, but this one, for some reason bought his attention. He’d never been spiritual, or believed in ghosts or the paranormal- but this thought, to guide your loved ones back home, to spend a holiday celebrating death rather than letting its embrace feel like a freezing grip held like a vice in his mind.

Johnny the ever living man agreed with a level of adoration in his eyes that Simon had to look away. On the eve of Día de Muertos they set the altar together. Setting photos of Simon’s family, all except his bastard if a father and some photos is Johnny’s gone relatives. They lay the marigolds around the altar as well as lighting candles and laying out foods from both their origins and a few hispanic dishes to honor the culture itself.

There’s no great party really, but they sit close together on the couch, stories being told of each face framed with the orange petals. Simon feels closer to those he had loved- still loves than he had in a very long time.

This was a lot longer than I had planned. Also is this incredibly late to day of the dead? Yeah, my apologies but I had the thought like- an hour ago.

This, I will be blatantly honest, I projected on. I myself really wish to follow this tradition next year and quite honestly could see Simon following it too.

Anyway I’m gonna go pass out o7

#ghoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mw3 #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny mactavish #day of the dead #día de muertos #they’re so soft with each other #I love them for that #also I fucking love marigolds #they’re so pretty

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po1sonous-l0ve · 29 days ago

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I've been reading the Folk of the Air series

And here are my thoughts!

The Cruel Prince

-Oh my God this is not bullying this is a hate crime

-IS CARDAN GOING TO FUCKING MURDER HER??

-WAIT NO VALERIAN IS JESUS

-Locke is kinda...

-Who is Taryn's lover?? Is it Valerian??? It better not???

-Thank God he's dead

-Locke was playing them??!!

-Cardan is kinda...

-Cardan is kinda...??

-YESS JUDE SO GIRLBOSS PUT THAT KNIFE TO HIS THROAT

-...they kissed? Wait that was kind of girlboss of Jude.

-I LOVE BABY OAK

-Plot twist with Oak jesus christ

Very nice, 8/10

I don't have the wicked king yet 😶

The Queen of Nothing

-Baby Cardan 🥺

-Jude is so unbothered by it all lol

-I bet Cardan is a wreck.

-So faeries are just casual cannibals, ok, noted.

-CARDAN IS SO FUNNY

-Can Madoc just chill??

-Taryn the girlboss you are

-Healing powers??

-Cardan is such a cutie pie

-These fucking courtiers bro...

-WAR WAR WAR

-Poor Suren 🫤

-JUSTICE FOR SUREN BABYGIRL

-WAR WAR WAR

-Just Jude girlbossing

There's a smut scene...?

-Oh its defo smut

-Very vanilla tho

-More girlboss Jude, love it, eat it up.

-Cardans a fucking snake???

-I actually despise Lady Nore

-Jude killed Cardan????

-Oh wait the prophecy came true

-AND THEY ALL LOVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER

7/10

The Stolen Heir

-YESSS SUREN BABYGIRL

-And Oak is all grown up...?

-Who tf is Tiernan??

-JUSTICE FOR WREN BABYGIRL SHUT UP TIERNAN

-Are Hyacinthe and Tiernan...?

-Wren is so traumatised 😭😭

-Wait why is Oak kinda...

Wait, Oak is kinda...!!

-Poor Oak and his fucked father 😭

-Nooo Wren, you're too kind, leave the prisoners to rot!!

-Oh poor Oak...

-Oak and Wren are my babies actually

-SHUT TF UP TIERNAN

-Wait can Oak lie?

-OH SHII WREN IS MELLITH

-Oh Oak you little trickster

-Honestly getting thrown in the dungeons is deserved

-THATS HOW IT ENDS??

Thoughts on the wicked king and prisoner's throne coming soon, and a proper book report

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the stolen heir #the prisoners throne #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #taryn duarte #madoc tfota #tfota #oak greenbriar #queen suren #oak x wren #tiernan #hyacinthe #locke #valerian

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romancefranaticstay · 8 months ago

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D͙o͙ w͙e͙?

Jeongin x reader

Category: very angst (with smut) with a happy ending

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You were crying in your bed, blankets covering your whole body. You were crying for the past week, because your heart got broken. You described it like painfuller than a knife in your throat.

Your now ex-boyfriend Jake and you had a heated argument, and you can say it got pretty wild. He suddenly brought another woman up during the argument, that was the last straw. You never saw him with rage in his eyes. It felt weird, and you couldn't look towards him the same way.

Your roommate Jeongin tried to cheer you up by watching some movie's or going to the mall. But it didn't help, it did help a bit, but not enough.

Another week pasted by, and you hoped for a phone call from him, but it never came...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month passed and your head was light as a feather. You were concentrating on your work for the past month. You got promoted and were doing great. You had a high position for someone with the age 23.

Tonight you had a formal dinner party. You actually didn't want to go, but you had to represent your company. You recently bought a tight black dress, which gave shape to every curve of your body.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'You a bit excited?' Jeongin asked.

'Yeah, maybe, a tiny bit.'

'You know, there is going to be lots of food.'

'Thats the only positive part of tonight. But you know maybe ill met somebody.'

'Thats the spirit!'

You both were in a big limo the company bought. Jeongin stepped first out of the car and he reached his hand out to you. You placed your hand in his and stepped out of the car.

You two walked inside the building, getting greeted by everyone around. Hearing some whispers and some of the latest gossips. Jeongin had placed his hand on your waist, without you noticing. Everyone was talking with eachother.

When it was time to get seated to your table, Jeongin kept holding you by your waist. The chair was very comfortable and you had a good view.

Suddenly the lights went off, because it was time for a speech. You never saw this coming...

Jake (your ex) had to give a speech. He had everyone raise their glass. Jeongin putted his hand on your thight, because he saw you needed some comfort. The speech at first was very emotional and inspiring, but than...

'I want to thank mine company, mine family and ofcourse mine beautifull girlfriend, seated over there.'

He was pointing at some girl, she was seated at the back. It hurted you that he could move on so fast, and that he did this infront of your eyes. He knew you were seated in the front.

And the worst part was that everyone kinda knew about your break-up, so it was very uncomfortable. Tears started to appear in your eyes. You stayed strong the entire speech.

Finally the lights turned back on, and everyone was again walking around.

'I have to use the restroom, ill be right back.' you whispered in Jeongin's ear. He heard your voice crack a bit.

You walked fast upstairs, towards the bathroom. You locked yourself in a bathroomstall. Crying your heart out.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair?

It isn't fair...

Jeongin got very worried, because you were locked up for the past 30 minutes.

'Excuse, i am going to use the restroom.' he said.

He ran upstairs, towards the ladies-restroom. He threw the door open. He looked which stalls were used, only one was... He could hear your sobs.

He knocked gently on the door: 'Y/N?'

Nothing.

'Y/N, could you open the door for me?'

Nothing.

'Please?'

You opened the door, tears rolling down your cheek.

'Oh, Y/N.' he placed his hand on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

'Why would he do that?'

'Because he is a bastard who doesn't deserve you.'

He opened his arms.

'You need a hug.'

His arms wrapped around your waist. Gently moving from the right to the left. One of his hands going towards your head. Softly petting your head. He looked at you. Your puppy eyes looking up to him.

His eyes looking from your eyes towards your lips. You saw what he was planning to do. His face coming slowly closer to yours. You could feel his warm breath.

His lips slowly pecking on yours. His lips were soft and plump. The warmth you feel was magical. Slowly you parted your mouth so he could get more access. His hand supporting the back of your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck. He pushed you a bit on a wall. He started to leave sloppy kisse's on your jaw, then he found his way towards your neck. Leaving beautifull hickey's behind.

You started to undo his tie and unbutton his blouse. He started to do the same to you.

'Wait.' he whispered in your ear. He sprinted towards the door and locked it so nobody could interrupt you both.

This time his kisse's were a bit wild, but you loved it. Getting rid of your clothe's like a beast. Throwing everything aside only leaving your panties on. Him also throwing everything, but his underwear, aside.

His fingers finding a way in your panties, glinding in your fold. Hearing whimpers from your mouth. Suddenly he turned you around. His slowly pulled your panties to your knees. He took his lenght outside his underwear, he wrapped his hand around it and leaded it towards your ass.

He jerked his hips towards you, hearing a moan leaving your mouth. (You two weren't really talker during intimacy). He placed his hands on your hips and started to slowly pump into you. Your hand holded his head for support.

His pace started to go faster. You could hear him groan by every pump. His hands grabbed your hands and pinned them on the wall. The room was filled with skin-slapping sounds, it made everything more romantic.

Your back arched, because you were about to cum.

'Jeoniee, ah-h, i-i c-c-.' you couldn't create a sentice anymore. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head. His head was laying on your shoulder, licking and kissing your shoulder.

He suddenly slipped out of you and turned you around.

'I want to look at you when i cum.' he said out of breath.

He started to slowly pump in you again, while he was again pinning you against the wall. His eyes locking with yours, not looking away. Your orgasm was about the come, you really couldn't take it any longer.

'I i-need to c-cum.'

He started to fasten his pace, pumping into you as fast as possible. Throwing your head back. You could feel him hiding in the crook of your neck. You and him came at the same moment. Staying in the same position for a bit.

He grabbed your chin gently and brought you in for another sloppy kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You two finally were dressed up again. He kissed your cheek.

'You really want to go back downstairs?'

'We have to, don't we?'

'Do we?' he smirked.

'No we don't.' you smirked.

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THE END

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francie-froo · 7 months ago

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KEY’s ending is pure ✨CHAOS✨and im here for every second of it😍 SPOILERS AHEAD! PROCEED IF YOUVE FINISHED THE GAME

oh look! ITS RADEK, the creepy ghost knight! told u he was sus 😒 but dont worry he actually didnt wanna hurt us, just triggered a couple of second chances here and there..

OH HES NOT ALONE. hey grandpa Marek! act surprised everyone!!!

okay red herrings move out of the way. because the real culprit is the computer dumb lady - Ms I cant afford an undereye concealer VLADENA ZLATY! she attempts a spicy devil villain venom but oh well

no one can beat the original🤭

aaanyhow. now we know the culprit right? WRONG! here comes Ms Computer Genius with a tragic backstory who had access to Nancy’s phone and laptop aaand heard Nancy’s convo with Zane coz well Nancy keeps making Detective 101 mistakes all the time

shes threatening us too…but we get away AND steal her ring. Elka? more like L-ka😙

walking thru the door coz Vladena graciously left her bag with the seven keys for us, and LO AND BEHOLD Vladena drugged the dean and is threatening him with a knife😭😭😭 daaarliiiinnggg, guess who just escaped the psychwaaaard

oh now shes threatening us with a knife

thats okay coz we zapped her with Elka’s ring and now shes just lying on the floor

no like literally just lying there unconscious with that super duper expensive ancient crown

these two are all of us during the entirety of the ending sequence - understandably ✨shooketh✨😵‍💫

i was cackling like a maniac the entire time this is so unserious that its just too good tbh 😂

#nancy drew games #mystery of the seven keys #SPOILERS #CULPRIT REVEAL

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moonlit-dreamers · 8 months ago

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been doodling for a while and made this bullshit for @bloodmoons-knife long live the king fic/au

was originally just gonna be a doodle and figuring out wut she looks like then went "wait this looks like a meme-" and realized wut it was so i just. i just had to man

i swear ill draw lunar and binary soon OTL

reblogs appreciated :)

ramblings under le cut

about the art- i decided to take advantage of this moment to fuck around with my art style. they have noses (ik, wow, crazy) and i tried to let myself be as imperfect as possible (ofc i was still annoyingly nitpicky but- i still like how it all came out). i didnt even sketch a single one of these. was that a bit stupid? maybe. but it was still very fun to fuck around and find out

when drawing nebula i wanted to have him look both very soft and kind but also fucking exhausted. at first i was unsure if i had gotten the wet cat energy right until i put a photo next to it and i was like "yeah. thats a fucking soggy man."

rust is forever gremlin, even if they just turn into a teddy bear the moment eridanus picks them up.

eri was actually quite fun to draw since ive never drawn mermaids before but- no time like the present and a pretty lady who must be drawn.

but onto the fic! i am. incredibly normal about it (lying)

the dynamics between everyone is just so fun to read through. especially when theyre all here for similar reasons: grief and loss.

watching them all grow and learn to cope through each other is so sweet to watch. and even tho nebula seems to be more content watching them heal rather than healing himself they wont let him neglect himself any longer it seems :) theyre grabbing a towel and fucking getting him whether he likes it or not. and if they dont then i will.

im so curious as to how lunar will come to fit into all of this as well.

we r putting these beasts into situations and watching them fight to survive and its wonderful

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afro-hispwriter · 5 months ago

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I love the way you write Aemond in Dornish Love. My favorite Aemond is a man who know his sword and histories with no problem but give him a pretty lady that he actually likes? Man is scared and has no idea what he’s doing. It is the best. I do have a question though. Does our Martell Princess know how to fight? Maybe it’s not a big thing for her character, she may not be the greatest sword wielder in Dorne but perhaps she know her way around a weapon?

Just imagining Aemond accidentally sneaking up on her and the next thing he knows he’s pinned on the nearest flat surface with a knife to his throat; surprised, a little scared and a lot turned on.

This isn’t a request, just gushing about you and wondering about future plots.

awww thank you🥰🥰

she is a dagger girly

i headcannon that dornish children, especially ones of her status(even though dorne doesnt really care about status as much as the rest of westeros but yk) are at least required to know how to defend themselves and once they learn and are experts in a way, they are given a choice if they want to continue training or they will stick with that they got

i do like that idea, id like to use that if thats okay?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

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daincrediblegg · 2 years ago

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NOT CHEATING AT ALL AND ITS GORGEOUS THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL SHOWSTOPPING STUNNING OH MY GOD 😍😍😍😍

Self Ship Game

Reblog this with a picture of you S/I (picrew, drawing, sim, or whatever) and I'll give you an image/collage based off their vibes alone.

(Proship DNI)

#YOU EVEN GOT IN THE BOAT KNIFE!!!! FUCK YEAH #bless babe thank you this will keep my mind afloat in the coming days #lady terror #god I LOVE what you chose like yeah god damn THATS SHE

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c0nn0r-c0nn0r13 · 29 days ago

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As i promised... Tim Drake as Toga Himiko. (Tw: blood, eating people, body torture(?), death)

Welcome to Connor yapping about their au (part 1) (keep in mind i’m not an author, and suck at writing)

Tim Drake is a strange, strange child. His teeth grew too sharp for a childs. Now sharp teeth were normal, but these weren't normal. They were more like fangs, they were different. Different isn't good around rich people.

So his parents did the only reasonable thing they could think of, they filed his teeth back, till they look normal. (What is normal?)

Tim, himself, didn't like losing his teeth, he thought they were cool. Look a vampire in those old movies he watched behind Mrs Macs back. But if his parents said they weren't normal then they must be wrong. (It's such a strange word.)

Life was better.. or it was until the young drake made a mistake. He saw a bird, a very pretty bird, it was a small thing, a robin. It had crashed into the fence in the back of his garden. The one that connected to a forest.

Now, Tim loved birds. His first memory was seeing three birds dance in a circus. The night ended in tragedy, but before it did, he got to take a picture with the youngest bird. So he wanted to help this little bird. He picked it up, looked at it. It certainly wasn’t moving. But the red on it was so pretty.

He’d never seen anything like it before, it smelled nice aswell, like something metallic. You can’t blame him for what he did next, it just looked so good.

Thats when his caretaker, Mrs Mac, found him, drinking from the dead robin. The old lady screamed, Tim tilted his head, why was she screaming. Mrs Mac screamed something about his “inhuman smile-“ and how “you sick monster.”

Mrs Mac quit the same day, leaving the boy alone and rumours spread quickly. People at school whispered about him, pointed at his fangs teeth that were growing back in. The only thing that really stuck was how much they were scared of his smile. He stopped smiling as much after that.

When his parents finally came home, they instantly heard about the incident. They weren’t happy, not at all. He hated his teeth now, his smile, he hated how good it tasted, how good it felt.

He swore he wouldn’t do it again. (Promises are meant to be broken)

At school, there was this boy, Jamie, in the year above him. He had pretty blonde hair, deep brown eyes you could get lost in, he was in the year above him. At twelve he released it was a crush, he had a crush on a boy. His parents would be disappointed. He told no one.

After school, Jamie asked him to stay back, to talk to him after school. Tim was more then happy to talk to his crush. It didn’t go well. It was a prank. A prank that ended very poorly.

James ended up dead. His blood drained. All that was left of his body was a straw sticking out his neck and a pocket knife in his neck. Everyone knew it was him, but as long as he was a Drake they couldn’t do anything.

Janet died in a mining accident, Jack no longer wanted anything to do with Tim. He disowned Tim the first chance he got. Dropping him off in the foster care system.

The group home he was stuck in wasn’t kind. They gagged him, made sure he couldn’t do anything. His cries were drowned out under white noise. The young meta hated it there, he couldn’t do it anymore.

The walls were red, he liked red. Tim liked it a lot. It was pretty. Tim liked pretty.

His fangs had fully grown back in, and his hair had drown out. He didn’t like feeling it on his neck. He didn’t want to cut it, so he did his best job at doing sloopy buns. They were pretty, cute even. Tim liked cute like he liked pretty.

Another robin died, but this time a big one. It did bad things to Batman. That wasn’t good. Now, he was smart, he could figure things out. So he found the first robin in Bludhaven. The young meta tried to get him to go back as robin. “Batman needs a robin.”

Robin one, Dick, refused. Told Tim to do it himself. So he did. He became the third robin. To be honest, Tim didn’t know why Dick let him be robin, Tim wasn’t good, he knew that. But Dick said he could do it.

Being robin was hard on Tim. Seeing all that cute blood and not being able to do anything, but he leaned self control. He promised he wouldn’t drink blood again (promises always get broken.)

He met some of the best people as robin, Kon, Bart, Cassie, Cissie, S’lobo, Greta, Anita, and so many more. They didn’t know what he was but if he told them, he didn’t think they would care. They were cute like that.

He messed up.

Caroline Hill.

Alvin Draper.

Mr Sarcastic.

Three slip ups.

But as it happens, shit got fucked. The second bird came back. Jason was big now, angry now. He was a crime lord, not a vigilante. Or he was more like a mob boss, ruling with fear.

Personally, Tim didn’t get why he chose the jokers old codename of all things. But each to their own. But attacking him in titans tower was a low blow. It was close as well, Tim wouldn’t back down, he was as much of Robin as Jason was.

Jason was just an asshole. Tim would die on that hill.

Damian was a cute kid, though. He didn’t mind the stabbing, he showed love how Tim showed love. Someone who understood him. It was nice, maybe Damian would share his blood with Tim. (Not that he’d ever ask, he said he wasn’t going to drink any blood and he was going to stand by it)

The Bruce died, he knew he was alive though, he knew it in his heart. He helped Damian design a Robin suit before he left. Damian, in return, gave him some of his blood, just incase Tim ran out. They had the same blood type after all. (It meant more to Tim then that)

(Damian knew Tim was a meta, he found out from his mother before he was dropped off at the Wayne manor. He didn’t know how to tell Tim he knew though. So this was all he did, giving him what he needed.)

The journey was hard, losing his spleen was fucking painful. Losing Owen and Z was fucking painful. He kept their blood with him, it was precious now, he wouldn’t lose it.

Getting kicked out of a window wasn’t how he expected to die, he didn’t want to go like that. It wasn’t pretty, all he hoped that his blood was pretty on the ground. Maybe Damian would keep his blood for him.

He didn’t expect Dick to catch him, but now.. now he had to explain, and explain he did.

From the killing, the blood, the home, the tower, getting Bruce back.

He did not, whatsoever, except acceptance. Not be called family, to be called cute. (Normal was boring, and promises always get broken)

Anyways thats roughly how this AU plays out, i’m a shit writer so sorry.

#tim drake #tim drake as toga himiko #tim drake as a toga himiko variant #au #tim drake au #mini fic #fic #fanfic #kinda #its verry shitty #connor polls #tim drake poll #tumblr polls

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