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deakyjoe · 2 months

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Not A Place, But A Feeling

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: angst and maybe a little fluff idk

Summary: They say home is where the heart is. And your heart is with Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is 56), a rewrite of episode 3 basically, kissing (!!), groping (!!), implied smut, mentions of death & suicide (Bill & Frank, Sarah), reader is Bill & Frank’s adopted/surrogate daughter, guilt, sadness, grief, loss/bereavement

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: In celebration of Pedro’s birthday, have something I’ve been working on for literal months <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bill and Frank were dead.

Their corpses sat rotting away in their bedroom, the door locked shut, as Ellie read their goodbye letter, a note of upbeat confusion in her voice. You couldn't blame the kid, she'd never met either of them.

Joel stood next to you rigid, unsure what to do or say as he just listened to the final words spoken by two of the few people he'd chosen to trust in this world.

You, on the other hand, felt as if the universe was crashing down around you. All blood had escaped from your body, seemingly draining out from your feet, as your head floated around in a storm of lightness that threatened to knock you unconscious at any moment.

Bill and Frank had raised you, the former finding you abandoned as a toddler when the outbreak had started. You'd stayed shut away in their own private community for years, Tess and Joel being the first people you could remember meeting that hadn't been your surrogate parents. And when Frank had come up with the genius idea to dump you in their responsibility so you could socialise some more and see the real world, you'd been all too eager to sneak back into the QZ with them.

You were beginning to regret that enthusiasm.

"And take care of our girl for us, we know you will." The final words of the letter hung in the air for a moment as Ellie lowered the paper into her lap, eyes flicking between the two people stood in front of her.

Joel said nothing. And you ran.

The front door almost fell off its hinges with the force of you swinging it open to get to the front yard. Barren flowerbeds were quickly flooded with the contents of your stomach. You retched at the floor, nothing else coming up but the feeling of needing to vomit still strong.

They were dead. Dead. Gone. Forever. What were you supposed to do now?

Your legs trembled beneath you, struggling to keep your weight as every fibre of your being just wanted to give up and collapse into the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Trying to shake the feeling off, you pushed yourself into an upright position and started walking. To where? You didn't know. But this is what you used to do when you needed time to think, time to clear your head, time to escape. You walked the town. You hadn't had that same ease in the QZ, it was nice to have it back now. Even in the worst scenario.

You couldn't dwell on this for too long. People died. Regularly in this world you lived in for that matter. It was an inevitability. The loss of Tess had been a warning sign of that only recently. You'd been taught not to grieve too much, you didn't have the time for it. And it wouldn't change anything.

But you still ached, feeling as if a part of you had been ripped away and stolen for eternity. So, you walked.

Joel had watched you leave out of the corner of his eye, not surprised by your reaction at all. It was a little understated if anything. The men who had raised you were dead. Nobody coped well with the loss of family, he knew that better than most.

"You should probably follow her." Ellie said, looking towards where you'd abruptly left the house.

"She'll be fine." He insisted, rolling his shoulders back and taking in the room around him. He'd have to figure out everything for himself now that Bill wasn't around to help. So he got started on that, distracting himself by creating a mental list of inventory the group of you would need for your journey. And all of it was bound to be lying around here somewhere.

Ellie could only watch as Joel ignored what he really should have been attending to and took to wandering around the house instead, staying careful to keep clear of the downstairs bedroom.

It took two hours for you to reappear in the house again, acting as if nothing had happened.

You strolled in to find Ellie rummaging through a dusty old box with your name plastered on the side of it in block capitals, the black ink slightly smudged.

"Hi."

Her head snapped up to meet your eyes. "Oh, hi. I found this."

You shrugged. "My music collection, right?"

She visibly relaxed and smiled. "Yeah." Ellie wasn't a shy kid by any means and she certainly didn't have any trouble with her confidence or prying, but she liked you and didn't want to overstep since you'd been nothing but nice to her since you'd met.

You nodded. "I think I've got an old Discman around here somewhere if you want to take some of it on the road with you."

Before she had a chance to respond Joel stomped back into the room, gaze landing on you. He didn't say anything but his expression was questioning. You just gave a short nod which was enough for him.

"Take a shower and I can find some clothes for you both." You said, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked under your weight but you paid it no mind.

The both of them could tell you still were not feeling quite right but didn't push it, Ellie disappearing upstairs to take advantage of the luxury of a shower that was actually hot with good water pressure. Joel silently followed you to a closet where the stash of unused clothes was stored away.

You found jeans for him and Ellie, a t-shirt for the young girl and a plaid shirt for him. It was one of Frank's. Joel watched you silently as you hesitated before passing it over to him. Luckily, neither of you had to fill the tense silence that followed as the shower switched off upstairs.

“I’ll go give these to Ellie then you can shower.” You mumbled, pushing past him when he gave no more than a grunt of acknowledgment.

You don’t know what you expected from the man, he wasn’t exactly well-versed in emotional support. Just something a little more would have been nice. You pushed the thought aside as you knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Ellie called back.

“It’s me. I’ve got you some clothes.” You were slightly turned away from the door in case she decided to open it.

“Oh! Okay, hang on.”

There was muffled rustling from the other side before the bathroom door opened a crack and a hand stuck out.

You laughed and gave her the pile of clothes. “Should be some spare toothbrushes under the sink too. Maybe some toothpaste. If you’re, I don’t know, feeling extra hygienic.”

“Feeling extra hygienic.” She echoed back in amusement. “Thanks!”

The bathroom door slammed again and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

You trotted down the stairs to find Joel hovering by the door to the kitchen, surveying his surroundings. You recognised that look.

“What do you need?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

You sighed. “Don’t tiptoe around me, Joel. What do you need?”

His gaze shot back to yours.

Tense silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Ellie came bounding down the stairs and collapsed in front of the box of CDs again. She didn’t seem to notice the staring contest going on between the two of you as she rifled through the music rapidly.

Joel’s mouth closed again momentarily before he appeared to change his mind. “You good here for a while?” He directed at Ellie.

The young girl glanced up from the box and nodded, finally noticing the atmosphere in the room.

Joel turned back to you and tilted his head towards the front door. "Let's take a walk."

You followed him silently as he walked past you and out the front of the house, not stopping his fast pace until he was well away from the building.

Falling into step beside him, you debated whether you should be the first to speak. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think on that for too long because as you reached the point where the boutique was coming into view, Joel stopped and suddenly turned on you.

"You should stay here."

The statement felt like a knife in your chest. The way he said with such finality, such conviction. Like he’d been thinking it for a while. You wondered if that had been his plan all along.

"What?" You didn’t let your confusion and hurt go amiss from your tone.

Joel could only repeat himself. "Stay here."

You scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"It's safe." He pushed through clenched teeth.

You nodded. "Safe."

"Your home."

He’d completely lost you.

And yet you nodded slowly again. "My home."

He nodded tightly, wishing you'd stop repeating everything he said in that sardonic tone.

You clicked your tongue quietly. "You think this is my home?"

"Yes."

You glanced at the row of derelict buildings next to you, the cracks on the ground, the dead grass. "The place I left years ago, where I had no friends, where my parents have recently killed themselves, you think that's my home?"

Joel had never heard you directly refer to Bill and Frank as your parents. It pained him to hear the word used in such a horrific scenario. But he didn’t let up.

"You grew up here."

You laughed humourlessly. "You grew up in Texas. Do you still refer to that as your home?"

He'd like to. But didn't. "No."

"And what is your home, huh? What do you think of your home as, Joel?" Your brows furrowed together as you watched him thinking about it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Tess.

...You.

You didn’t let him answer. "Bet it's not a place, is it?"

You were right.

You knew that so you carried on. "Bill and Frank were my home. Now they're gone. Tess was my home. But guess what? She's gone too. Tommy's gone fucking M.I.A.! So what am I left with, Joel?"

Him.

"I'm left with you." You shoved at his chest, surprised by your own strength when he took an unsteady step back. "So if you think that I'm going to stay in this fucking ghost town alone instead of following my home wherever he goes with that girl who needs us, then you really don't know me at all."

You went to push past him, to leave his ridiculous suggestion behind and maybe go clear your head with a hot shower, when he stopped you with a statement that felt like the knife he’d already plunged into your chest was being twisted around to hurt you even more.

"Tess promised Bill and Frank that we'd look after you."

The scowl on your face deepened and Joel knew he'd given the wrong answer but it was the only answer he knew to give.

"Is that what I am to you, Joel? A promise that Tess made?"

He didn't respond.

A sting that threatened tears bit at the back of your throat. "Because if I'm a promise that someone else made for you then fine, I'll stay. I won't burden you with having to take care of me anymore." You ran a hand down your face. "You've got your hands full with Ellie anyway."

“That’s not what I meant.” He tried.

And failed.

“Then what do you fucking mean?!” You wailed, fingers clawing at your scalp in frustration. “Do you want me to stay here for me or for you? Just spit it out, Joel! So I understand what the fuck you want!”

Joel Miller was an intimidating man. He marched around with a permanent frown on his face, his tall and broad figure parting any crowd that saw him coming. That's why, when he took a few sudden paces towards you, you inched back a couple steps. It was instinct. He was a killing machine. And he didn't look too happy with you right now.

But the pure shock that rocketed through your system when his large hands landed on each of your cheeks and he crashed his mouth against yours would have been enough to keep a whole city's electricity running for a month.

You froze for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in surprise, not sure what to do with yourself. Joel Miller was kissing you. Joel Miller was kissing you. Out of every possible outcome, you never could have predicted this. The older man who you had adored quietly for years and trusted with your life, with your soul, was kissing you.

Your fists curled into the front of the shirt he’d been wearing for days, fabric a little stiff with dirt and grime, using it as leverage to meet his lips halfway.

He kissed you hungrily, like a man starved, devouring everything he could possibly take from you. Fingers tangled in the back of your hair, tugging roughly to elicit soft whimpers out of you. He licked into your mouth hotly, tasting as much of you as possible.

The feeling of your palms sliding up his chest seemed to knock him out of his stupor, detaching himself from you and taking a couple of unsure steps back.

He looked at you surprised, almost like he couldn't believe he'd done that. "I-"

"Joel..." You trailed off when he gave you a warning look. So you went for another approach. "I thought you and Tess..."

His face tightened in frustration. "No."

You didn't believe that. "No?"

"No." He gave a subtle shake of his head. "Never."

He seemed adamant. And sincere. So you chose to believe him.

You weren’t shocked when he looked at you for just a couple of seconds more before spinning on his heel and started walking back in the direction of the house. He was like that. Joel seemed to enjoy ignoring his feelings.

But then he changed his mind and looked back at you again. "We can stay a couple of days and then we need to move again."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

He tilted his head up towards the dull sky for a moment before turning again and stalking off.

You waited until he was out of sight before following him. If he was conflicted on what he’d just done, then pestering him with your presence certainly wasn’t going to help.

When you got back to the house, Ellie was still sat on the floor.

She didn’t even look up as she spoke to you. “The old man’s showering, thank god. Thought my nose was going to fall off.”

You stifled a laugh and set about finding out if there was any food in the pantry that was still good to eat. You knew there was an endless supply in the basement and garage, but something slightly fresher was more likely to satisfy the three of you for the next couple days you were apparently staying. Managing to find something mildly edible and leaving it out for the two of them to eat, you informed Ellie she could help herself to anything in the house before making your way upstairs to find some of your own stuff to wear in what used to be your old bedroom.

You’d miscalculated how long it would take Joel to wash away the days worth of dirt as he emerged from the bathroom just as you walked past it, hair damp and slicked back and new-ish clothes on. He looked good. Very good. And somehow better than usual.

You swallowed thickly and slid past him into your old bedroom, not saying a word as he watched you go. The knowledge that he felt something for you, you didn’t know just what yet, was weighing down on you. What were you supposed to do with the idea that he maybe liked you just enough to want to kiss you? Joel wasn’t the kind of man to suddenly open up about his feelings and tell you he was hopelessly in love with you. Maybe he was pre-outbreak, you thought. You’d like to have known the him that existed pre-outbreak, you decided. But he certainly wasn’t that man now.

You pushed your door shut behind you, leaning against the wood and letting out a long exhale. God, why had he decided now was a good time to make this more complicated than it already was? You almost despised him for it.

Shaking the thoughts away, you found yourself some clothes and traipsed to the shower. The hot water and steam would clear away the temporary worries whilst you figured out how you were going to address your own feelings for him. Sure, you’d always known you’d silently harboured a thing for Joel. But you’d always assumed that nothing would ever come of it, he was a lot older and Bill would kill him if he ever caught wind of anything, so you’d buried the feelings deep down inside of yourself. Until today apparently. When he’d decided to dig it all up by kissing you.

You scrunched your eyes shut and forced that thought out of your head. The memory of the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hands, his very large hands, held you, the way his tongue licked into your mouth, the way he groaned lowly deep in his chest.

Thoughts. Forced. Out. Gone.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you ate in silence before Ellie declared she was tired and you told her she could sleep in your old bed. She seemed ecstatic with that as she’d admitted to snooping earlier and thought that the mattress looked comfortable. You’d laughed and waved her off. Joel had then mumbled something about supplies and had disappeared into the basement.

You took that as your opportunity to speak to Bill and Frank, something you’d wanted to do since Ellie had first read that letter. So you hauled yourself up from where you were sitting, padded down the short hallway to the room where their bodies rested, and promptly sat down right outside the door.

You spoke to them silently in your head, giving them updates like you would’ve done were they still alive and you were just visiting. Telling them about life in the QZ and what you’d been up to. In retrospect, it seemed ridiculous. But at the time, it felt right.

When you were done, you just closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the door.

"Don't go in there."

Your eyes shot open at the deep voice to find Joel standing a few feet away from you. Of course. Who else would it have been?

"I'm not. Just wanted to sit with them for a minute." You sighed and squinted your eyes at him. "I know that sounds crazy."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I understand."

There was a brief moment of silence.

He broke it. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"Ellie's in my bed.”

"Master bedroom." He countered.

You frowned. "I thought that's where you were sleeping."

"Couch." Joel’s line of defence was unwavering; you didn’t really know why considering you were having a simple conversation about sleeping arrangements.

So you pushed on. "Couch? Why? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"I've slept on worse."

"What's wrong with the master bedroom?"

He hesitated. "That's where Bill and Frank used to sleep. Feels like an invasion."

Oh.

You hummed and nodded your head. "That's why I can't do it either."

"You can't stay here all night."

"I've slept on worse." You repeated his words back to him, surely he would understand.

He nodded and slowly offered out his hand. “Come on.”

You almost didn’t take it, shocked that he was doing it. But after a moment’s pause, you slipped your hand into his and let him pull you up. And when he didn’t immediately let go, and started to pull you towards the couch instead, you thought you might have a heart attack.

When the two of you reached your apparent sleeping grounds for the night, Joel turned back to look at you. Only to find that you were a lot closer than expected. He didn’t like the way you looked up at him because it reflected a grief he’d only ever seen in himself. It was too personal, what you were feeling. He hated it. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel tempted by it.

He’d already crossed that boundary once. What was once more?

You were less surprised the second time Joel Miller kissed you. In fact, you were more relieved.

One hand cupped your face, keeping you grounded, the other clutched at your waist, keeping you close. Whether that was for him or for you, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to complain either way. And when the two of you fell back onto the couch all bitter memories of loss, of grief, of confusion, of him all went away.

Joel could only wish that he was on the same mental path.

This was so unbelievably selfish of him. Bill and Frank trusted him with your safety and security. And here he was on their couch, the memories of their lives still dancing around him fresh, kissing their daughter as he groped and grabbed at you with lust fuelled energy. It was more than lust, Joel knew that, but the ghosts of Bill and Frank didn't.

You were on top of him, full weight pushed against his body, and Joel could think of nothing but how fucking soft you felt under his touch. He ignored the betrayal of two of his only friends, ignored the glaring age difference, ignored that he was feeling what he should have felt for Tess. None of it mattered when your skin was warm and velvety in his palms. None of it mattered when your tongue slid against his and you swallowed the soft groans he'd accidentally let loose every now and then. None of it mattered when you whispered his name against his lips almost checking like his was still there with you. And of course he was. He'd never leave you from this moment on.

He'd continue to be selfish and ignore all the reasons why this was so wrong because it just felt right. Like you'd said, he was your home. And you were certainly his. Maybe he could afford to be selfish for once in his life.

The kisses were sweet, almost as sweet as you, but Joel could feel you yearning for more. Your fingers itched against him, twitching in anticipation. He understood perfectly as he felt the same, letting his hands drift to wherever they wanted. And you had no complaints, arching into his touch as much as you could.

The two of you were like horny teenagers, making out on the couch and trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake the rest of the house. The rest of the house being Ellie in this scenario. Although the teenager wasn’t stupid; she’d felt the tension as soon as she’d met the two of you. Even if you both appeared unaware of it.

The sun dipped below the horizon.

Hands dipped below waistlines.

A war raged through Joel’s mind. This was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. But you felt so right.

He broke away momentarily, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Maybe you should sleep.”

You only nodded at him, eyelids half closed and pupils blown. Joel just kissed you again. Maybe his moral dilemma could be a problem for the morning.

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for ages, unfinished, but calling to me. Glad I finally got around to completing it :)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

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viridwns · 26 days

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Mannequin

TW: Forced relationship, non-consensual kissing/touching, Douma being aight?, mention of gore if you squint, also didn't check grammar or spelling :/

A/N: I am working on so many requests rn, I had to work on one of my own ideas (I saw a dress on pinterest and had to make a story out of it).

"You look like a goddess."

"So beautiful."

"She's ethereal."

"Only the best for Lord Douma."

"This shows too much skin!"

You look at yourself in the mirror, turning your body every whichway to assess the dress (or rather a piece of cloth) that has been put on you.

You felt naked.

Douma kidnapping you to his cult wasn't something new. Especially after he was sent out on a mission did he just long for alone time with you. His followers taking you, dressing you, doing your hair wasn't new to you either.

But being put in this?!

Yeah, this was something new.

They never put you in a dress so revealing.

It was a strapless dress, with sleeves flowing over your lower arm, attached with a silver chain to the main part. Your top was made out of the same silver. It barely covered your breasts. You hoped the thin closing around your neck wouldn't break. The silver was further attached to the bottom of your dress. A waistband sitting snug on your hips, a sheer cloth billowing from it, and stopping just above your ankles. Aside from your lower arms and from the waist down, you were without coverage. Your only shield that protected the outing of your breasts to the rest of the world was the flimsy silver chain wrapping around your upper half.

No way you were going to wear this in front of the demon who ripped apart countless of kimono's off you. He couldn't even see your figure in those. You don't want to find out what he'd do when you were practically bare.

You let your fingers trace the silver; these chains wouldn't even survive a slight tug from him.

"Our seamstress worked tirelessly on this. Researching the western culture without Lord Douma's knowledge was a difficult task. Plus the seamstress had to start over many times; the fabric is so flimsy it ripped multiple times!" A woman looked at you via the mirror with begging eyes. You felt a pang of guilt shoot through your gut at her words.

"It's not that I don't like it! it's the most beautiful piece of clothing I ever laid my eyes on. It's just that...It's so immodest!"

You turn your head away from the mirror, getting embarrassed from seeing your form in such a state in front of all these women.

Counter arguments started to bounce off the walls. You shook your head.

"I'm not going to prance around in nothing but see through fabric and chains!"

"You must! you're Lord Douma's spouse, send by God himself to keep him company-"

You waved your hands in an attempt to cut her off. You didn't need them to obsess over the made up story Douma fed them. You were not God send, and you were definitely not here to keep the demon company.

You wished you could tell them the truth, but that would only result in carnage; The pile of corpses Douma left for you to find serving as a efficient warning the first time he brought you here.

You were never going to tattle on his secret again.

The arguing continued, a hand already pressed on you shoulder so you would sit down.

"Just let me do your hair first okay? If you really don't like it we'll dress you in different clothing.

You reluctantly gave in. Knowing that their say was final anyway. You can't even remember the last time your opinion was taken into serious account.

It's always about pleasing the demons', never about what you would like.

You watched the skillfull hand of the woman behind you doing your hair in the dressing table mirror. She was braiding it into a crown around your head, letting the back stay the way it is. She intertwined some white roses into the braid; it looked like you were wearing a flower crown.

Even though you did find yourself pretty in these fancy clothes and hairstyles; you couldn't enjoy yourself. You were treated like a dress up doll for the demons', only being allowed to look pretty for them, never for yourself.

You had forgotten the giddy emotion you got when being gifted a new dress and twirling in it in front of the mirror for the first time.

Another sigh, another careless smile from one of the followers.

"You couldn't look more beautiful. Lord Douma will ravish in the sight of you." The women all agreed in unison, complimenting you on your beauty.

You turned around to face them, a small smile on your lips.

"I will make sure to praise your work in front of Douma." A wave of excited and thankful shrieks came over you.

Douma tended to let the women you like live longer so you can enjoy their company more when you're here. You had to mention them in front of him.

A male follower came rushing into the room. The women all forming a protective circle around you-you were only to be seen by Douma's eyes.

"It's almost sunset, come quick." He rambled, waving to everyone to come with him. Urgency laced his words.

It was time for Douma to give the message of the Lord to his people.

Prick.

You stood up, relief slowly eating away the nerves that had build up in your stomach.

Sunset also meant that Akaza could go outside and get you out of here.

One thing about Douma is that he never asked if he can take you with him, he just does.

And hell be upon him when the rest finds out you're missing, coincidentally at the same time Douma isn't present either.

Akaza is always the one to get you, even if he can't stand up against Douma, he somehow always gets Douma to give you over.

Maybe it's because of the threatening shadow of Kokushibo always leaning over Akaza from behind; piercing his three pair of eyes into Douma's soul (if he even had one, you were fairly certain he didn't).

You feel the corners of your lips tug upwards at the sight of Douma being beheaded.

Maybe if you puppy-dog-eye Muzan enough when you get back he'll take away Douma's mouth for a bit. You could use a bit of peace and quiet.

You didn't notice you were being lead to the main hall, so lost in your daydreams that you only noticed where you were when a heavy silence deafened your ears.

The hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at you, gaping at you, had you realize what you were wearing, or what you weren't wearing. Your arms slipped over your figure in an attempt to keep as much hidden as you could. Your futile attempt in creating a shield for yourself was met with two female followers grabbing both your hands and forcing them to your side, keeping you in place with their determination to show you to their Lord.

Your eyes were pinned forward, gaze focused on the tall figure slowly rising upright from his cushion.

Douma looked the same as he ever did. Same hair, same clothes, same cursed eyes and his trusty hat.

The only thing different was that his expression was...well not his usual 'grin'.

His eyes were wide, mouth closed. He was unreadable. You couldn't figure out what emotion he was wearing on his features.

You noticed his hands were in taut fists by his sides.

What was up with him?

"Douma?—"

That's when he stood up, rising to his full height. You swear you could feel the floor shake as he strode towards you.

You didn't—couldn't—move. Why was he so much more terrifying when not smiling?

The women let you go; getting on their knees as their Lord approached—heads touching the floor.

He didn't acknowledge any of them as he took your wrist in his hand. You saw his sharpened nails. bile climbed up your throat, you forced it down again as you swallowed.

Douma dragged you behind him, pace quick, eyes determined. You spluttered his name, trying to ask what was wrong. He was not himself, he never acted this way.

"Douma, what are you do-"

"Just shut up."

You were taken aback by his tone, shutting up immediately. He never had any emotion except for faux happiness in his voice. Now his tone was just empty, devoid of anything.

You could hear his heavy breathing as he took you outside. You spotted the white circle gifting the world with a guiding light in the darkness high up in the sky. It was a full-moon tonight.

Your eyes snapped to Douma as he stilled his movements. He shoved you in front of him, placing you in the holy glow of the moon. You faced him with confusion lining your features. You could not figure out what he was trying to do.

He took a few steps back; basking in the sight of you. He swallowed thickly. His eyes trailing slowly over you body, analyzing every dip, mole, crook, wrinkle, imperfection and perfection you had.

You looked like an angel in the heavenly glow of the nightlight. Douma couldn't stop inspecting you. When you walked into the hall, not wearing a kimono like always, he was put into a trance. He had never seen you wearing western clothing, and even though this was extreme and probably not accurate to the western style at all-he was captivated.

You had never looked more beautiful than you did at this moment. He wasn't used to emotions sizzling in his blood. He didn't know how to put the burning sensation in him out. For once he didn't want to throw you on a bed to eat you up to your very core, but he just wanted to take in you.

You played with the ends of your sleeves as you felt yourself getting smaller under Douma's multicolored gaze. You hated not knowing what to do, not being able to gauge the demon's feelings.

A snap of twigs made your head turn away from the stone-turning stare of Douma.

You sighed in relief.

"You bastard. You can't just take her with you! Not without Lord Muzan's permission! Love, you must've been te-."

Akaza stilled, his eyes met yours and slowly drifted over your body. You cocked your head.

Not him too.

"What are you wearing? What is she wearing?" He pointed an accusing finger to Douma,

"Doesn't matter, she is gorgeous."

You had to keep yourself upright form the whiplash Douma gave you with his words. He had never sounded to sincere, so soft.

Akaza walked over to you, his footfalls not heard. He was about to hold your hand when Douma spawned next to the two of you and gripped Akaza's hand in a bone-breaking grip. His muscles were bulging under his skin as he kept Akaza from touching you.

"Let her stay like this for a little." Douma never was serious with Akaza. Always letting the upper three do what he wanted. Akaza stopped all his actions. He knew Douma could kill him in seconds if he resisted him now.

"Douma I want to go. I don't feel comfortable." It was nerve-wrecking to break the tension. It was something you never dared to do, scared of loosing a limb if you did. The air was thick and if you had a knife you swore you could cut it.

Douma turned his focus towards you. Just like that you could breathe again, all tension leaving. It was like Douma realized that he had dropped his act.

You grimaced when his grin returned on his lips. You saw Akaza visibly relax when he did.

"Whatever you wish princess."

You looked at him with suspicion. He was never this easy to persuade. Usually he would whine for an hour before inevitably giving in.

Akaza shared a glance of doubt with you. He cautiously took your hand and within the blink of your eyes you were standing in the chaos of walls, lights, floors and stairs.

You felt light-headed, your stomach sloshing inside of you. This was never going to get easier.

You held Akaza's hand as you got your bearings, slowly pushing away the nausea and pressure that was building in your head. If it wasn't for him you would buckle and fall.

"You okay? I don't understand how you aren't used to this yet." Akaza rubbed your back. You shot him a glare and released your hand out of his.

"What is she wearing?" You pursed your lips in annoyance as Kokushibo appeared in your line of sight.

"I'm getting out of this dress right now, don't worry about it." You snapped, done with this whole night already. Why were they all acting like you never dressed up before?

You were wearing a dress for the first time though...maybe that's what had them reeling like this.

"No, I like it. You look beautiful." The upper one stared down at you, his hand resting at your shoulder, slowly gliding down to your lower back as he assessed you.

"We should get you more dresses, and have Daki braid your hair more often." He mused. A shiver ran up your spine as his cold fingers kissed your skin.

"I don't feel comfortable in this. I am practically naked." You objected, looking up at Kokushibo through your lashes.

"Only bonus points if you ask me." Douma winked, his eyes dark with lust as he cocked his head with a cheeky smile.

It was like whatever happened a few minutes ago never did. He was back to his old self. Much to your relief and dismay.

"Stop acting like an animal in heat you idiot." Akaza sneered, but the dust of pink on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Which one of you took her out of the kimono I picked for her?" There it was. A voice, cold as ice, heavy as stone and threatening like a knife against skin.

Muzan was standing across from you. His head high, hands behind his back and maroon eyes radiating annoyance.

Muzan was very controlling of what you wore, ate and just did overall.

Douma was in for a lot of shit.

"Ah Lord Muzan! isn't she pretty? My followers know exactly what to do with her!" Douma pushed you forward, showcasing you to the demon king.

You slightly pouted your lips. You hated being pranced around like an animal in a zoo. You just wanted to change into comfortable-covering-clothes.

Muzan took you in, walking around you as if he was deciding to buy a new piece of furnace. He was judging you.

"I've seen this style before. Did your followers research her western background?" Muzan asked as he let his hands wander over the material; tracing the silver that were hiding your breasts.

"They did, and they did such a magnificent job."

No they didn't. You never wore anything like this back home.

Home. You missed it.

"I wore dresses at home-" Muzan grabbed your jaw, you coughed.

"-back in my former country, they were nothing like this." You managed to get out with the aching grip of the demon king on your jugular.

You had to stop messing that up.

Muzan loosened his grip just a tat.

"You look nice in this. Maybe I should let you indulge in your own culture more."

Your eyes grew big.

"Are you serious?"

"Dare you question me?"

You shook your head no as best you could with his hands still lingering between oxygen and choking.

When was the last time you had enjoyed something from your culture?

When was the last time you spoke in your tongue?

Sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you made that realization, but you quickly cut the emotion off as you went down on your knees. Muzan letting your go to have you grovel at his feet.

You bowed down; head touching the floor the way he loved.

"Thank you, my lord." You felt the insides of your stomach climbing up your throat as you said it, but you forced it down. You had learned quickly enough to do what Muzan likes, and thank him for the smallest bit of gratitude.

Having you call him 'lord' was another one of his manipulation tactics. he wanted you to know the power dynamic between the two of you. He wanted you to know where you stood exactly.

Muzan hummed in satisfaction. You rose to your feet again with the help of Kokushibo, who so kindly stuck out his arm for you to take.

"No, stay on your knees." Muzan commanded. Your mouth fell open, but without any hesitation you bend down on your knees again. Your dress spread around you in a perfect circle.

Muzan tilted your chin up. He raveled in the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. You looked so fragile with those flowers in your hair and the white clothing your skin.

He felt his trousers tighten just at the thought of corrupting the innocent thing before him.

You felt the eyes of the three demons behind you burning holes in your body as Muzan traced his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Kiss me." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. you weren't feeling up to this right now, but the consequences of rejecting Muzan-rejecting the demon king-would be a grave mistake.

Muzan couldn't handle that a mere human could reject a near God like himself. It hurt is ego immensely.

You gently stood up, not breaking eye contact with him once, you let your breath fan over his lips, mentally preparing for what was about to come. Muzan grabbed your hips as he watched you.

Pushing back every urge to stop, you lunged forward, crashing your lips on the frozen ones of Muzan. Your warmth enveloped Muzan's nerves as he reciprocated the kiss. He was more fierce, more eager, and after a second he took back control. Forcing you to stay in place as he explored the cavity of your mouth. You felt your oxygen running out as Muzan bit and tugged on your bottom lip. He dominated you easily. Your hands were taut around Muzan's shoulders. Squeezing as the need for oxygen became to extreme.

The moment spots started forming in your vision, Muzan broke the connection. You heaved, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. You didn't stop looking at him, you knew he saw looking away as a form of 'not wanting' (even though that's what you did feel). You felt your lips swell and your face heat up. Your eyes were glossy and Muzan wore a small grin on his face.

He loved seeing you like this. Lips plump read, face hot and bothered and eyes doe-like.

"You are talented in putting on a show, darling." You furrowed your brows, Muzan guided your face in the direction of the other demons'.

You felt your muscles tense at the sight of all three looking at you like you were the first source of water they found after days of traveling in a dessert.

You felt fear fluttering in your stomach like moths pouncing on a flame.

You barely made it out alive when with one of them. You wouldn't be able to take all four.

"N-no, please, I-" Muzan raked his sharpened nails over the silver, it broke without any resistance, just like you predicted.

"Don't worry. They'll do as I say, and for now I want them to watch."

He kissed your shoulder as the shield slowly broke off your body.

You got what you wanted though, you got out of the dress.

#yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan kibutsuji x reader #yandere muzan kibutsuji #yandere akaza x reader #yandere akaza #yandere kokushibo x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere douma x reader #yandere douma #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba

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daenerysies · 2 months

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deep diving into the episode three line from rhaenyra, “no one is here for me,” and how if the takeaway from that scene is that rhaenyra is a selfish brat you aren’t proficient enough to do anything past surface-level reading.

in episode one rhaenyra expresses to alicent that she hopes her father gets his son, “for as long as i can recall it’s all he’s wanted.” which leads us (the audience) to understand that while rhaenyra loves both of her parents she feels ostracized from her father (and mayhaps even her mother, to some extent, because of her constant pregnancies) due to his ‘need’ for a son to continue the targaryen dynasty. she is a daughter, only seen as valuable for her womb, which is evidenced that she knows about when talking to her mother. rhaenyra wishes to be a knight and ride off to battle and glory, with aemma giving her a gentle reality check on her lot in life. she does not want to serve the same purpose as her mother.

aemma dies near the end of the episode, with viserys ordering her butchered for the chance that his long-awaited male heir might live. this is a violent and gruesome scene, followed by rhaenyra not even being given the privilege of hearing her mother’s death first. she is instead relegated to members of the small council being alerted, even corlys and rhaenys learning about this before her, she is a silent member on the sidelines. she does not know the extent of what has happened, but she knows that something is wrong.

we have to think about how she learns of her mother’s fate. did otto tell her? did rhaenys? did viserys? did she see her mother’s body ripped open? did she see the bloody sheets left at the scene? was she allowed to hold baby baelon, considering he didn’t die immediately? was she there when he took his last breath? maybe it would bring her some comfort, she didn’t get to say goodbye to her mom. maybe she held him until he passed. did her father offer any explanation? we’ll never know, but these are all such heavy questions in regards to what she experienced that day. she’s fourteen, has spent her entire life watching her mother grieve dead baby after dead baby, losing little bits of herself in the process. it’s no wonder this was a traumatizing period for her, fueling her want (her need) to not be shackled down by marriage and childbirth.

even at her mother and brother’s funeral she isn’t allowed to just grieve, to just be. she has to hold her head high, she has to comfort her father, she has to order their corpses burned. was her father happy for the few hours he had a son? she wouldn’t know, she never will be that for him. how long does he spend wallowing is his self pity? he reprimands daemon for not being there for his niece, but where was he, her father? he banishes daemon, takes comfort from his daughter’s best friend. he finally comes to her, tells her of a great danger rising from the north; from my blood comes the prince that was promised, his will be the song of ice and fire. she hasn’t heard from him in days, a targaryen must be seated on the iron throne to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. her mother is dead, and he has wasted the years since she was born wanting a son. she is now enough, her mother never was.

it has now been six months since her mother's death (murder), and she has been heir the *entire* time. her father won't talk to her, she is still the cupbearer for the small council. lord corlys is angry about a war he says has cost him, the crown will not help. she suggests they use dragons, a show of force against their enemies. her father admonishes her, "it isn't that simple, rhaenyra." he allows the lords at the table to belittle her efforts. the only one appreciative is corlys, "at least the princess has a plan." otto says there are better uses for her talents, she has been heir to the iron throne for six months. she's been given the chance to choose a future kingsguard, she wants one with actual combat experience. the hand is exacerbated, she is firm in her decision. ser criston cole will be the replacement for ser ryam redwyne.

alicent has been visiting her father in his private chambers secretly, corlys wants his daughter to be the next queen. viserys begins openly courting lady laena of house velaryon. rhaenyra and alicent visit the sept, she expresses her worry, her mother has only dead for half a year. the lords seek to replace her, alicent convinces her that she cannot worry about the plots of lords and men, she is the heir, however. why shouldn't she worry? she misses her mother.

she meets with her father, he reassures her, "i loved your mother very much." she apologizes for speaking out of turn at the small council meeting, he tells her she will learn (will he be the one to teach her, though?) daemon has taken a dragon's egg and seized dragonstone, bringing news of his future marriage to lady mysaria. the king means to go himself to stop him, otto will not let him. daemon took baelon's egg. rhaenyra is angry. she reaches dragonstone just after otto's party, she knows they were about to come to blows. she confronts daemon, she is the reason he was disinherited. if he kills her, he'd be done with all this bother. daemon scoffs, walking away from her. he throws the egg whilst still retreating. rhaenyra smiles and leaves. her father is mad once he learns what she's done. she left without his permission, but she retrieved the egg and prevented bloodshed, he should be pleased with her efforts. otto would never have been able to accomplish what she did, he relents.

rhaenys lectures her about the order of things. the realm will never accept a woman ascending the iron throne, but it's different for her. her father is the king, rhaenys' father dies as a prince. her father made the lords of the realm swear obeisance to her, rhaenys never had such a thing. the lords chose viserys over rhaenys at the great council, viserys has not given them a choice. rhaenys is the the queen who never was, rhaenyra is the queen to be. when she is queen she will create a new order, rhaenys warns there will be war (unfortunately she is right).

another meeting takes place between father and daughter. he must take a new wife, someone to help propagate the targaryen line. they are vulerable, to easily ended. rhaenyra understands, it is his duty as king. obviously he will marry laena, the daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the realm and of pure valyrian stock, it is a fine match. alicent is still visiting her father in secret.

her father calls a small council meeting, he means to announce his next wife. rhaenyra is ready, she gave him her blessing (why is alicent here? she never has been before.) her father starts speaking, "i intend to marry... the lady alicent hightower." corlys is enraged, otto is pleased, alicent is anxious. rhaenyra was ready, it has all fallen apart. alicent is her best friend, that friendship dies before her very eyes. she runs from the room.

it has been two years. viserys and alicent are married, and they have a son, with one more baby on the way. the boy's name is aegon, it is his second birthday. he has past his infancy, the lords believe it is only a matter of time until the king names him heir, rhaenyra is well aware of this. the queen visits the godswood where rhaenyra sits. she overrides rhaenyra's authority, commanding the singer to leave. she states the king wishes for her to join them, he wants them to have fun as a family. they do not need her to celebrate his long-awaited son. it is the king's command, she leaves unhappily. alicent wishes for things to be different, rhaenyra knows they never can be.

together they all sit, traveling towards the kingswood. rhaenyra asks after alicent's well-being, viserys reminds her that she will be in this position sooner than late (the same position that killed her mother). "it isn't so bad, the days are long but aegon came quickly and without fuss." the queen states. rhaenyra is hurt, she tries not to show it. the king reminds her she has duties, rhaenyra retorts sarcastically. how long will these duties last, once her father names alicent's son as heir over her? her life will be forfeit before long. no one is here for her.

"no one is here for me." translates to "no one has been here for me. i’ve been alone and angry and terrified for years. i am my father’s heir, but what does that mean? what will it cost? you put me here. daemon put me here. alicent put me here. you have a son now, he outlived baelon and my other siblings. how long until i am cast aside again? made to be some petty lord's wife, made to be a broodmare until it kills me? i don't want to end up like my mother. this heirship is all i have. it will soon no longer be mine. i'm only seventeen. no one is here for me."

rhaenyra is never shown the same amount of grace as alicent for her strifes and anguish in life, for the fact that she too was a child from episodes one through five. rhaenyra might not have been a child bride, but she still spent her life being told she was never enough. she was not a boy, she could not be the heir, her father needed an heir. he kills her mother for it, he ignores her unless she can benefit him. he makes her believe that he will marry laena, only to blindside her by marrying alicent. she realizes alicent has been lying to her for months. her father continues to undermine her throughout the years. he names her heir to spite daemon, which she admits she knows about in episode two. he allows the lords to ignore her. it takes him two years to reassure her he won't replace her. rhaenyra is an angsty teen who has seemingly lost everything and has no support to counter that. she is not upset that no one showed up to a two-year-olds birthday party with her in mind, she is upset that her father continuously overlooks her, that he takes and takes and takes everything from her. he took her mother, he took daemon, he took alicent, he had a son. she has not been able to catch a break due to her father's selfishness. in all honesty, she should have acted out worse, maybe burn everything to the ground. viserys would deserve it, she was far too lenient with him.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #in defense of rhaenyra targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #team black #pro team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #hotd meta #i wrote most of this within the past two hours #if you see any typos no you didn't #putting the anti tg tags bc its always them calling rhaenyra a selfish brat #that is my wife i will not let you slander her

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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My Little Sea Snake (Aemond x Reader)

Requested by @duhitzdae. Your requests are getting more and more difficult so I hope I wrote this the way you wished!

(Y/n) Velaryon was the first born child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, a true born heir created during the few times that her parents laid together, Rhaenyra was relieved when she was born, she had successfully done her part and completed her duty, it is rather grim to look at one’s birth as a simple duty but that was the truth of it.

(Y/n) inherited her fathers skin tone and long white mane yet her eyes were ice blue, to look at her was to love her, she was a beauty in her own way. As a babe she would cause a ruckus until she was safely tucked in her fathers eyes, “my little sea snake” he would teasingly call her as he rocked her back and forth and sang lullabies to her, every night before Laenor snuck out of the castle he would only do so after he rocked his baby girl to sleep, all the wet nurses were at awe at the devoted father. Laenor loved all his… children however would someone blame him for having a soft spot for (y/n)? She was his heir, his blood ran through her veins.

Her home was the ocean and the little girl would squeal with joy when her father brought her to sea for the first time, the water splashing on her brought her an immense amount of bliss while her father held her tightly, Laenor would often reminisce of that morrow, his pride and joy was the reason he upheld his marriage even in the slightest.

Rhaenyra loved her daughter yet when he looked at she represented everything she hated, a forced marriage out of convenience, she did not despise her husband nor her child but her heart resided somewhere else.

When her brother Jacaerys was born (y/n) tried to take a peek at the small babe, it was love at first sight for her although as he grew she heard whispers of how different they looked.

Time seemed to fly by and now her mother had given birth to another son, “another child to love while she ignores me” she thought, she put on the best show for everyone as she congratulated her mother who only half smiled and looked away from (y/n).

She had grown to turn a blind eye to her mothers cold manner, on the other hand it still hurt for a daughter to be brushed away from her own mother, she would have to stand by while her mother coddled her brothers, petting them and kissing them all the time, her father would pick up on his daughters sadness and run to her to smother her.

She had just landed from her dragon when she heard a loud cry from inside the castle at driftmark, the ceremony of her dear aunt leanas funeral had been heavy on her, especially when she saw her father grieving while he stood in the ocean with the water up to his waist.

Instinctively she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. The sight she met was brutal, her grandmother crying on top of a half burned corpse as her grandfather yelled at some soldier

“Father?”

She mumbled as her eyes filled with tears, she did not feel the impact of her knees crashing on the floor, she crawled next to the body still trying to process what was happening, her grandmothers crying made her want to rip off her ears from her head.

“It cannot be, Grandmother… it’s not my father is it?”

The last thing she remembers was her grandmothers blue eyes looking back at her, collapsing at the floor unconscious while her grandfather took her in his arms.

“Oh my dear, my dear (y/n)”

She watched from afar the wedding ceremony take place, her mother marrying Prince Daemon while her father had just lost his life hours ago. How ruthless can one be? She had enough when she saw them kiss, commanding her dragon to fly and land right in front of them. Everyone stepped back except the couple, Vermithor was one of the biggest dragons to ever grace the earth, an intimidating beast that (y/n) managed to claim stood before them while the girl looked down of them, tears streaming down her eyes.

“Congratulations to the happy couple. You two deserve each other, do not worry Rhaenyra I won’t spoil your marriage but just remember, I owe you a death”

(Y/n) flew and found safety to Pentos, she was greeted and treated like royalty as the Prince of Pentos gifted her a small castle and the land that surrounded it, (y/n) had changed from a girl to a cold hearted person in one nightfall. She trained until her feet bled, she had suffered so many injuries that after a while she didn’t really experience pain, (y/n) had cuts and scars all over her arms and legs from the battles she had part taken in honour of her grandsire Corlys, she stood by him and was willing to give her life towards his cause.

“The Faceless nightmare” was the nickname she had earned, a particular thing she had picked up was covering her face from the nose and down when she fought while her dragon flew above her and burned everything in her command, no one really knew what she looked like except her ice cold eyes, the most brutal and strongest soldier her grandisre had.

When Corlys laid ill of blood fever she could sense what was going to come for them, Vaemond was a crow that circled patiently until he saw a corpse he could feast on, specifically her grandsire, it truly disgusted her how can one secretly hope for the death of their own blood for glory.

“They cannot allow this grandsire, you are not dead”

“They know that my dearest, it is just another shot to Rhaenyra”

“I do not care about the throne but I must put a stop to this sick claim that wishes for you to die”

“Come here my little sea snake”

Corlys laid in his bed as (y/n) paced back and forth. The man could barely speak due to his fever, however as (y/n)s parental figure he felt obligated to support her in her delirium that had her causing up a storm with her circles.

(Y/n) complied, she sat next to his bed with her knees touching the floor as she took his warm hands in hers, his fever had gotten the best of him.

“Listen to me, you must go to the red keep on my behalf, back your mothers claim”

“No, I will not stand on her side”

“Your brother will be a good ruler, I know my brother and he will bring our Velaryon legacy to its knees. Don’t do it for her, do it for your grandsire, you will be heir one day, put your differences aside and do what’s right for the family”

When Rhaenyra arrived with her family at the red keep she was surprised to see the bronze fury outside of the castle, the humungous beast could only mean that her daughter was also close by, countless questions occupied her mind, has she sided with Vaemond? Was she here to claim driftmark for herself? Endless possible schemes made Rhaenyras head ache.

What was even more surprising was when Rhaenyra saw her daughter holding king Viserys as the walked in the throne room side by side.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, the first of his name, king of the andals and the rhoynar and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with his grand daughter princess (y/n) Velaryon, princess of dragon stone and a swore knight to Lord Corlys Velaryon”

(Y/n) was still dressed in armour attire as she supported her grandsire, her face covered like she was going to battle, mentally she was, she would actually feel more comfortable if she charged in the room with her sword in hand as she slashed through every single one of them. Now she had to play pretend and act all prim and proper in the presence of “noble” people that most of them wanted her dead.

“My grandsire will sit on the iron throne today Lord Otto”

(Y/n) declared as the older man stepped aside, she was never fond of Otto, he had ambitions and was an extremely calculated person, there was no authenticity when it came to his behaviour.

Meeting her mothers eyes was surreal. She was covered in scars from wounds that had fully healed yet the scar that her mother had created all these years ago still bled, all a girl ever needs is her mother, (y/n) never had that and then Rhaenyra robbed her from her father as well.

“Here my king”

She whispered to Viserys as she assisted him to settle on the throne. The sick old man looked at his grand daughter, with his weak hand he reached up to take off the cloth that covered her face, she saw how Viserys smiled fondly at the sight of her face being exposed, under all this armour and the tough facade was his little grand daughter was hiding, as the moments went by he could see her clear as the sky.

“My dearest (y/n)”

He managed to speak, (y/n) leaned into his hand that caressed her cheek, the touch deprived teenager in her screamed for comfort as her grandsire showed the affection she had missed, if her father was here everything would have been so different.

“May I speak my king?”

“Of course”

(Y/n) left her grandsires side to join the others, before she spoke she walked towards her grandmothers side to hold her hand. Rhaenys squeeze with might, to gaze at her grand daughter was like looking into Laenor, Rhaenys adored (y/n) ever since she was born, she was completely aware of her sons nature and her arrival was gods gift.

“My grandsire Lord Corlys is alive and resting, his recovery is slow yet steady, he send me here as his messenger. Firstly, he told me to hold his wife tightly and tell her how much he missed her. Second, he is severely disheartened about any petitions when it comes to his successor, my grandsire has always wished for my brother to take his place at drift mark, he asks for my aunt Leanas daughters to be betrothed to Jacaerys and Lucerys so we can strengthen the Velaryon Legacy. Lastly I wish to announce my proposition on my betrothal, it is not tradition still I ask of king Viserys to allow my betrothal with Aemond Targaryen, I have been informed that he is a fine sword man as well as a mighty dragon rider, let us join our houses once again”

Whispers took over the room as the news of her betrothal were heard.(y/n) had not seen Aemond since the incident at driftmark, she was the only one to defend him that night as the others scarred him for life for what (y/n) considered a petty argument, till this day she could not forgive herself when it came to her fail of protecting the young boy, this was her way to make up for the damage she allowed to take place.

“What bliss! My dearest (y/n)-“

“No”

Rhaenyra interrupted the king. She was fuming, how dare she match in here and declare her betrothal to a green, she could not comprehend that her own daughter was scheming against her. (Y/n) spun to face her mother, confusion written all over her face, she had backed up Rhaenyras claim, she secured her brothers succession what more did she want?

“No?”

“You have some nerve, overshadowing your brothers with your so called wedding plans, you want driftmark to pass to your brother while you scheme against the throne”

“It is an honest offering to uphold the peace that you keep disturbing”

“It is a malicious and calculated movement against your own family, have you no shame?”

(Y/n) did not speak, she just kept eye contact with the woman she called mother. (Y/n) had pushed her pride aside, she swallowed her pain, she ran away and came back to support her, yet nothing was good enough. Tears welled up in (y/n)s eyes as Rhaenyra scoffed at the vulnerable movement of her daughter that she thought was another play for manipulation.

“Tears? Really?”

“That is enough! As your king I command you to stop”

“You speak of family? All I ever craved was your love, I did everything to make you proud and you casted me aside, what do they have that I don’t? You were my mother”

“settle down now”

(Y/n) heard Aemond whisper to her at an attempt to console her while he rubbed her upper arms compassionately, tears had managed to escape (y/n)s eyes as she tried so desperately to find some type of emotion in her mothers eyes.

Aemond felt his heart ache at the sight, (y/n) had managed to go from a fierce warrior to a little girl in a blink of an eye, begging for a crumb of her mothers affection, he could not stand for it.

He had always kept the warm memory of her standing between him and her brothers to protect him in his mind for all these years or when she held his hand while the maester stitched up his eye, she was gentle soul which was something he could not say he would often listen to stories about her brothers.

Aemond would sometimes listen to conversations about (y/n)s accomplishments and admire her courage, now it was time for him to pay her back with the same kindness.

“The matter is settled, again. I hereby reaffirm prince Jacaerys of house Velaryon as heir to driftmark, the driftwood throne and the next lord of the tides. Let it be known that princess (y/n) of house Velaryon is betrothed to my son prince Aemond Targaryen, after their wedding (y/n) will be announced as my successor as I declare that my throne will pass to princess (y/n), making prince Aemond the next king consort”

“What?”

“Father you cannot-“

“You are a cruel woman Rhaenyra, your own daughter came from the battlefield to support you, to honour your family and you spoke in such… viciousness. You are not worthy of the throne, but (y/n)…. She is… destined to become a legend”

The man started to breathe heavy as you could listen to the pain he was experiencing. (Y/n) froze in her spot while Aemond held her hand, an act of intimacy he performed to show support in his betrothed, her hand was cold as Aemonds thumb made circles on her flesh, a subtle way to say “I am here”

“Let us be done with this”

Was the last thing the king declared before his wife tended to him and called for the maesters. If looks could kill Rhaenyra would have stabbed her daughter right in the heart, that was until Aemond did what (y/n) had done for him in his time of need, he took one step to stand in front of (y/n), acting like a human shield for the vulnerable woman while her mother was ready to assault her.

“Congratulations nephew, I look forward to the small court meetings we will attend together”

Aemond teased Jacaerys, he had no reason to do it other than taking the attention off of (y/n) who gripped his hand with all her might, before Jacaerys could respond Aemond turned his back on them and wrapped a hand around (y/n)s shoulders, to him it seemed like he was putting a wall between them and her, a wall (y/n) desperately needed.

(Y/n) gazed up at him with eyes full of gratitude, her bottom lip trembling as she put a fight to not sob in his arms, Aemond was a stranger, a distant family member yet he rose to the occasion better than her immediate family.

(Y/n) had to admit that after years of fighting and killing it felt nice to allow someone to protect her, even if the person he protected her from was the woman that broke her hips and went through hours of pain. (Y/n) thought of how she had paid back for those labour pains, (y/n) had been in pain all her life.

“Come along (y/n), I believe we have so much to talk about”

Requests are open!

@lightdragonrayne

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locustonlioden-blog · 4 months

Text

The Princess of Hell, everybody! Inspiration to all

But its ok, hes defending the hotel! Those loan sharks (mortal hellborns mind you) are just trying to get the 50k someone hiding out here stole and avenge someone she ran over. She was selfish, she stole, but she stuck it to the man I guess, and thats a start!

*spongebob narrator voice* A few episodes later...

Adam: Prepare to slaughter everyone in that shit hotel!

Lute: Rip Vaggies $%$% mouth out her $%$%!

Husk: Talking while fighting doesn't help...

Charlie: *yapping*

Everyone struggling for their lives:

Apologizing for deflecting them with her shield, as everyone around her litters the ground with their corpses...easily the most powerful one there-she knows it, she isn't scared...everyone else is though...as Alastors blood seeps into her roof, she shoots off some fireworks with a cute lil sowwy!

Oh, geeze what a day! Shes like that person in the grocery store who keeps apologizing for getting bumped into. Is this supposed to be cute? Guess Charlie takes shit now, in big heaping portions no less.

Then she...

oops, wrong universe, hold on...

yea thats it

AW NAW Alastor was sposed to handle him!

Pentious manages to confess his love, get in his ship, charge the death ray and get zapped into oblivion in about the time it takes Charlie to emerge from her hiding place. Ok, he works fast. Fair enough. Oh wow, shes finally getting mad! Yes the one who causes hellquakes when shes stressed, its about time to unleash some of that!

Watch out, shes got her pets and has donned her spirit halloween sexy devil costume. Your ass is toast sir.

Oh shit, Razzle went faster than Rhaegal did approaching Dragonstone. I remember Viv saying Charlie has wings. Why didn't they fly themselves up there? Did she risk her pets lives for the spectacle? "Oh, look who thinks they're badass now" Yea Adam, kind of my thoughts too

I have to say the VaggiexLute beatdown that interrupted this mess unlocked my clenched jaw somewhat so that was nice DING DING

Her pet just being murdered, Charlie turns her back on the assailant long enough for him to braid her hair while she wails in dismay

She gets plastered into the sign which might have been funny if it were set up properly, but its not so Im back to cringing. I cant help but think it would have been better if she had been gun ho to fight but just clumsy and unable to hit her target. Getting tossed into the sign really does a number on her for some reason.

She finally gets a hit in thank God

Thats PRINCESS of HELL to YOU, PIG

Yea ok simba.

Then Mufasa *ahem* Lucifer salvages her mess. Guess this one hasn't taught her how not to take shit from other demons.

Poor thing doesn't like to get her hands dirty. Not directly, anyway...

Anyway, the takeaway is

I feel ripped off where is my girl who beat Killjoys ass on live TV over a pen

#hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #charlie morningstar

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nanawritesit · 11 months

Text

WWDITS Headcanons: You Having the Opposite Aesthetic of Everyone Else at the Vampire Residence (fem!reader)

tw: vampires, blood, corpses, mentions of killing, mentions of virgins, immortality

you were brought into the house to work as nadja and laszlo’s familiar

after having so many familiars die on the job, they had pretty much lost hope that they would ever find one that was right for them

so when you of all people, with your brightly colored hair, glittery makeup, long nails, and hot pink platform boots, were still around after a few weeks, they knew you were special 💞

of course they had their doubts at first, thinking you were much too soft for the job based on your cute aesthetic, but you surprised them with how tough you were

you had no problem finding them victims, cleaning up blood stains, and disposing of corpses. the promise of eternal life was much too great for you to give up because of some gore

nadja is overjoyed to have another woman in the house, and quickly becomes more of a bestie than a boss (as long as you do all of your duties as a familiar too)

she requires you to attend weekly “girls nights” with her, the guide, and mini nadja, but even if they weren’t mandatory, you’d happily go along

sometimes you’ll get all dressed up and go clubbing, taking everyone’s drinks for them since they can’t ingest human food

you stick out like a sore thumb in your pink sequin mini dress and heels, the rest of them shrouded in black lace, but you have an amazing time regardless. they really know how to party!

but sometimes you just have sleepovers where you watch mamma mia and talk shit about all the men in the house

laszlo didn’t take you seriously at first. he never really saw the appeal of having a familiar, thinking he got along just fine without one, but wanted to please his good lady wife

he could never understand how nandor was so attached to guillermo. he was just some human who followed him around and did his bidding

that was, until you came along

he found it was really nice to have someone to practice his music with, to organize his library for him, to help him into his coffin every night… and after a while he really grew quite fond of you

which scared him, because he knew how fragile human life was

but that only made him want to keep you under his wing more, to protect you until the day him and nadja decided to turn you

they love having you accompany them on their nightly walks, carrying their parasol behind them as they bask in the moonlight

they’re super protective of you, especially from people who assume you’re an easy target because of your looks

like, if anyone tries to mess with you around them, lazslo will yell at them to go fuck off, and nadja will practically go feral and rip their heart out

you’ll have to BEG her not to hurt them for her to even CONSIDER letting them go 💀

nandor pretty much falls in love with you upon first sight

he absolutely adores your style, loving how unique it is compared to anyone else he knows

he tries and fails to flirt with you all the time while you’re working, until nadja eventually yells at him to leave you to your chores, and he’ll scuttle away bc he’s scared of her 😀

he sometimes asks you to do his makeup like yours, saying he wants to “glitter like twilight”

his undead heart stops when you lean close to his face to do his eyeliner 🥺

he desperately wants to ask you out but is terrified of what nadja would do to him should you agree

she thinks you’re MUCH too good for him

he eventually goes to laszlo for help, since he’s such an “expert” on modern women 💀

he agrees to help him, but tells him that if you guys start dating and he hurts you, he’ll kill him 😗

guillermo is honestly just so thrilled to have another human in the house to sympathize with him 😭

the two of you quickly become partners in crime, dragging bodies down the stairs together and recruiting virgins for your vampires to feast on

he also wouldn’t hesitate to slay any vampire who tried to feed on you

you always stick up for him when the vampires aren’t taking him seriously, which helps since they all value your opinion tremendously

nandor gets a bit jealous when he finds out that you and guillermo get lunch together everyday 😭

guillermo admittedly gets a bit jealous when you’re turned into a vampire before he is, but is obviously very happy for you

but since nandor has such a soft spot for you, you’re able to convince him to turn guillermo sooner :) that way you can be a big happy vampire family forever

collin robinson thinks you’re quite entertaining, although he gets frustrated at the fact that you somehow always dodge all of his attempts to drain your energy

when you go out on the town with everyone, you have major scary dog privilege

when you walk by, people see a pretty pink princess 💞

and then they see the three huge, dramatically dressed vampires, one emotionless suited man, and one monster slayer walking behind you and they’re like oh shit nvm 💀

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits headcanon #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #guillermo de la cruz #collin robinson #wwdits x reader #what we do in the shadows scenarios #what we do in the shadows fanfiction #nandor x reader #wwdits

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circusmania · 6 months

Note

Hello! Can I request Yandere romantic michael myers that know detective reader is secretly a Eldritch Abomination that showing or feeling no interest, enthusiasm, or concern?

Btw i love your writing��

Yandere!Michael Myers x GN!Reader ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Notes: Aww! I'm so grateful that you enjoy my writing! Hopefully, you enjoy this one, too. ♡ Also, I hope that it matches what you requested. :')

Muah Muah 🖤

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

WARNINGS: Gore, stalking, mentions of body mutilations (reader + corpses)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Amidst the rain, flashing red and blue lights could be seen. Haddonfield is quiet on this Halloween night, which is no surprise to the people who live there. No trick-or-treaters are seen on the streets, just police and their cars.

A car pulls up, catching the attention of the officers. Out steps the famous detective, You. You've impressed many with your skills and clue findings, no killer has ever been able to slip past you. Except for a particular man. The Boogeyman. You've been on his trail for years now, and you can't say that you haven't enjoyed the chase.

You step in a puddle, paying no mind to your wet shoes as your assistant scurries over with an umbrella.

“Detective!” He frantically fixes himself as he struggles to hold the umbrella over your head. “It's an 18-year-old girl. She was babysitting a young boy (who thankfully survived) when the killer forced himself into the house and stabbed her many times.”

You two approached the body of the girl. Your assistant turned his head, not wanting to see the gruesome sight. There's blood dripping from every open wound. Her face is twisted in agony and there's no light in her eyes.

“Do you think…. He did it? You know… the Boogeyman.” He whispered as if he was afraid of anyone hearing.

You didn't say anything. Obviously, it was, who else could it have been? You crouched down next to her, no emotion displayed on your face as you put on your gloves.

“Her parents are here…” Your assistant spared you a glance as a car pulled up not far from the crime scene.

“Don't let them come near.” You said, getting up after finishing examining her.

“Shouldn't we let her parents see her…?”

The screams and weeping of the parents could be heard from behind the police tape.

You sigh. “This is no place for a funeral. I don't want them touching the crime scene or moving anything.” You replied sharply.

Your assistant shivers at your coldness. He nods and moves to tell the officers. Suddenly, you notice something on one of the trees next to the body.

A heart had been carved into the trunk of the tree. You moved closer, straying away from the umbrella your assistant was holding. Now drenched in rain, you traced the carving with your finger. Whoever had done this knew how to handle a knife… The carvings were deep and done with passion.

Michael Myers was watching from afar, heavy breathing could be heard from under his mask. His grip tightened on his bloody knife as he saw your assistant yell after you for getting soaked.

Back home, your sanctuary, you finally felt relief. Your house was located deep in the woods to avoid any human interactions. The naked eye couldn't process your naked form.

The human skin stuck to yours. You peeled it off, layer after layer. You're careful not to rip it, as human skin tends to be too fragile for your claws. You laid your drenched skin suit on your chair.

You strolled over to your fridge and opened it. Your amalgamation of a hand reached in and pulled out some sort of meat. You engulfed it, not letting any of your teeth have a chance to penetrate it. You scarfed down any remaining bones on the plate.

All of a sudden, one of your many eyes picked up on a movement outside your window. Your eyes narrowed as you closed your fridge. You don't care if a human ever catches your form. Your bare body would make any sane man explode (literally). So you didn't worry about your secret getting out. However, this was different.

Your acute ears focused on any sounds that would indicate the presence of another being. Abruptly, you heard a twig snap.

You rushed out of your house at an abnormally fast rate. You were ready to confront your stalker, however, once outside, you were greeted with the dark, lonely forest and the song of the crickets you were accustomed to.

Whoever you were dealing with couldn't be human. You scoffed and went back inside, failing to notice the pale mask of the Boogeyman amidst the trees.

You were planning on relaxing the rest of your afternoon, but Michael had other plans. You were called in again when another body had been found dumped in a ravine close to your house. You put back on your skin suit, it was extra tight on you since it hadn't dried off yet.

Once again, you did your usual routine. Examine the body, look for clues and ask questions. Whoever this mysterious Michael Myers was, he sure knew how to put up a game of cat and mouse… And romance you in his own way.

The stab wounds on his victim were in a heart-shaped pattern.

“Ain't it too early for Valentine?” Your assistant attempted to (nervously) crack a joke, which fell on deaf ears.

You remained with a stoic face as you watched them place the body in a body bag.

Each year, the Boogeyman gets bolder and bolder. Yet, never had the guts to face you. Unbeknownst to you, tonight would be different.

Your assistant coughed to get your attention. “I've… got to go… family emergency.”

“Mm, okay.” You turned back to the crime scene.

Your assistant lingered for a while, expecting any worried expression or encouraging words. But was ultimately met with your usual uncaring tone.

Another hour had passed, and you were finally granted permission to go home. Home.

As you arrived home, you parked your car and got out. A beautiful stench filled your nostrils. Laying on your welcome mat was a human heart surrounded by a heart formed of drops of blood.

Your door was ajar.

A twinge of hope that today could be the day you meet him arose. But, it quickly died down as you entered your home.

The smell flooded your house as each step made it stronger and stronger. Like a game of hot and cold, each step you took was warmer and warmer.

Laying on your kitchen table on a fancy dish was the head of your assistant. His tongue was pulled out all the way through his mouth and his teeth were knocked out and laid next to his head.

You ignored him though, because your attention was focused on the giant man standing in the dark hallway. He was bloody, and heavily breathing, but somehow quiet…. He was awaiting your next move.

Perhaps the thing that sparked Michael's obsession with you wasn’t that you weren’t human, but the fact that you never showed any ounce of fear towards him. Or maybe because you both shared a taste for carnage.

Your human skin faltered as your smile stretched beyond human capabilities. Your eyes were gouging out of your sockets as your appearance looked less and less human.

In all of your and Michael's years, this may be the first time a spark of emotions illuminated in both of your empty bodies.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

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dishsaop · 1 year

Text

i like the Hunger Games a lot but im always gonna be a little bitter it took off when her Underland Chronicles never did. those books were so good and so fucked up. snippets of spoilers for a 20 year old book series for middle schoolers ahead:

cockroaches the size of horses who talk and are actually super chill and great babysitters for human toddlers. these books are the only reason i dont have nightmares about cockroaches anymore

cannibalism happens a lot. at one point a rat the size of a bison says "man go ahead and eat your dead friend, we wont judge" to a spider, who then proceeds to eat her dead friend. everyone but the rat judges.

another rat, who is still relatively a baby, is found later eating his babysitter's liver in an attempt to hide the body.

dude, pandoras death was so fucked up. "wow an island! im starving im gonna have a snack. brb guys" flies a little bit over, is immediately devoured in seconds by bugs and her skeleton crashes into the jungle below

plague book! humans try to commit genocide and blame it on bugs

hey. hey eleven year old. kill this tiny baby screaming for his mother. he sounds just like your baby sister you think just died horribly. kill this baby with a sword. you didnt? you didnt kill a sobbing baby who watched his mother die? we're putting you on trial for treason and will execute you

baby rat gone insane, now 15' tall and leading an army, ripping the head off of his friend/gaslighter, immediately heartbreakingly asking where she went, and then finding the head and accusing a twelve year old boy of doing it

dude gregor is eleven and in the first book willingly leaps off a cliff to his death (despite it being his worst fear) in the hopes itll stop his two year old sister boots from being graphically torn apart and eaten, like he has seen happen to others

thalia's death. they dont just kill unnamed children (they do absolutely kill a lot of unnamed babies onscreen) they also kill beloved named children

"the fireflies had to gnaw ares' claw off of his corpse bc you wouldnt let go of your friends claw. its been almost three weeks and the viscera has dried and glued it to your grip. we cant get it off without breaking your finger. you gotta let go of your friends corpse, twelve year old boy"

twitchtip.

forcing the twelve year old into a prophesied battle where he will die, and making him dissociate so hard for months he blankly allows others to make him cause/be complicit in war crimes

HAHA HEY THE SAPIENT, INTELLIGENT MICE DYING BY THE HUNDREDS SUFFOCATING ON POISON GAS WHILE A TODDLER SINGS A NURSERY SONG ABOUT THE MICE DYING.

the six year old boy losing literally everyone hes ever known and cared for over and over again

just so much violent gore and death for middle schoolers, man. i love it.

hey that was objectively a good and well done ending. and i also loved it. but "hey gregor my husband was in the war. he had ptsd that will never go away just like you" hey hes twelve :( someone help him

prim's death in the hunger games has nothing on the shit collins pulled in the underland chronicles this is like a tiny chunk please read them

#cannabalism #gore #child death #the underland chronicles #gregor the overlander #gregor campbell #ripred #twitchtip #hazard #boots #ares #thalia #idk im tired of tagging now #m text

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 2 months

Text

Feel So Numb: Werewolf!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Ask and you shall receive

Contains: Hella blood and gore, werewolf attack, gunshot wounds

It wasn’t like him to be radio silent, especially for this long. After he had reported over the intercom to Hunnigan about the villagers all being hostile while searching for the president’s daughter, the line went dead from Leon’s end. All Hunnigan reported to you over your own earpiece was that Ashley Graham was possibly taken to some sort of church and now it was your job to find both her and Leon and to report to Hunnigan your findings immediately.

You arrived at the last place your fiance was pin-pointed; On some rural stretch of long-forgotten road. The cobblestone had been neglected, some dug up by winding roots while the rest had been caked in mud and dead leaves. You pulled up behind what used to be a police car. The driver side door had been ripped off its hinges and not a soul was left behind, only a splatter of blood on the inside and a dropped police badge from the local station.

You eyed the obvious break in the foliage and narrowed your sight before you followed the beaten path knowing that you were walking right into danger. You drew your gun from its holster that had been strapped to your thigh and carefully watched your step. It was starting to grow dark out, the sun finally starting to set beyond the horizon.

You followed along the path until you came to a very run-down cabin where Leon had reported his first hostile villager. You saw his corpse laying across the floor and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at the smell the entire cabin gave off. You wanted to vomit. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled under your tongue and continued on, making your way out of the cabin and down the small flight of stairs littered with bloodied bones. You rounded the corner and stopped in your tracks at the sight of one of the police officers bloodied before you, his corpse had started to rot away.

Leon wasn’t kidding when he said something was horribly wrong.

Following the winding path out of the cabin and back into the woods, you had to step over and avoid more dead bodies until you finally came up to an animal corpse this time. It had been so decayed that no flesh remained, only bones and a little bit of muscle left. It looked to be a wolf and one of its legs had been snared in a rusted bear trap.

Now you had to worry about hidden bear traps and hostile villagers?

You don’t know how long you kept walking in the darkening woods, but you followed right on Leon’s trail until you made it to the village Leon must have been talking about. From what you last heard on the call log between Leon and Hunnigan, she mentioned something about a large windmill and a lake. You peeked around the village, bringing up your flashlight as you looked around. The looming stone church before you towered over everything around, cutting off the light of the drifting sun and casting you in near darkness. As you looked around, you nearly jumped at the sight of a burnt body tied up on a pole. The poor person was charred to a blackened crisp, no identifying features could be made out. Was this the second officer that was supposed to help Leon?

A shrill, faint noise sounded off in the distance, echoing through the woods. It rattled your bones, freezing your blood, making the hair across your body stand up on their ends. You raised your gun in the direction that the noise came from with your eyes wide and flashlight beaming into the dark. It sounded like some sort of fucked up scream; From an animal or a man, you couldn’t make out.

It took you a minute to finally uncurl from your position, quietly cursing to yourself before you trekked on.

“Gotta get the fuck out of here,” you whispered to yourself.

You kept following Leon’s distinct path. What locked doors had been opened, what path was made the most clear, what gate he had to force open with probably a good kick. You walked under a risen metal gate, eyeing it in case it slipped before you spotted an oddly placed crate to your right. There was an out-of-place torch post right next to it, barely any smoke furled out from the top. It had been extinguished recently, maybe an hour or so ago. Peeking up at the torch, you noticed that the embers were an odd purple color.

Where was Leon?

If connection had been cut out maybe less than an hour into his trek inside this fucked up rabbit hole, how far could he have gone? It had only been two days, really, he could be on the opposite side of Europe by now if he wanted to.

The scream echoed once again. It sounded closer this time. Your eyes bore into the wilderness that separated you from whatever the fuck was making that noise. It sounded like a monster crying out in pain.

Your feet carried you forward despite your brain wanting to sit tight and radio in help. A part of you was terrified to take another step into this twisted village while the rest wanted to barge through guns blazing to rescue your fiance and Ashley.

You quickly came upon the lake Hunnigan must have talking about. The water was choppy, the dock creaked eerily, there was no boat at the end of it. To your left was some sort of cobbled house, it had been worn for at least a decade by the looks of it. The door was broken open, the top half having been smashed into, the rotting wood now missing. You stepped inside of the place, gun in front of you with your finger on the trigger as you swept through the entire room, your eyes landing on Leon’s jacket and gun thrown to the ground in front of you.

You holstered your gun and bent down, picking up his jacket only showed that it was tattered. It looked like an animal had tore into it. The seams around the arms were split open, stitches were popped, there were odd lines scratched down the back of his jacket before you looked back down at the gun. Leon’s SG-09R laid splattered in mud, barely visible. You were only able to see in from the faint light of the full moon overhead. You couldn’t help but pick it up, the weight foreign yet familiar. It was empty, bullets absent. What was even more of a shock was that it almost looked like it had been crushed, especially at the wooden embedded handle. The metal was all bent out of shape and the wood was splintered. Whatever got ahold of it has to have been something big and nasty.

You swallowed thickly. Before you could press a finger to your earpiece to radio Hunnigan, you heard a chilling snap of iron close to you followed by a snarl that cut through the night.

You dropped the gun and Leon’s jacket and snatched up your own, barging outside with your finger on the trigger. You followed the sound the noise came from, flashlight clicked on only to see a bear trap ripped in half in front of you. It had been snapped at the hinges. Blood covered the rusted teeth, the pressure plate had been smashed, the chain had been yanked up from the soggy earth.

Whatever was making those horrible noises had just gotten out.

You swallowed thickly, raising your flashlight to follow the trail whatever it was made for you. There were odd marks in the mud and leaves, almost like a giant wolf had tore through the woods.

You heard someone shouting not too far away, gargled Spanish bellowing out before he was horribly cut off with a vicious snarl. You ran towards the noise before you stopped dead in your tracks at what your flashlight illuminated.

It was a monster. A real fucking monster. Not a zombie or some B.O.W. you’ve seen from the B.S.A.A.’s reports. It looked like something straight out of a nightmare. Your heart dropped to your chest as you stumbled back, your gun trembling in your hand. It was big, way bigger than any human you’ve ever seen. It was bulky and hairy and horrible. It was hunched over, tearing into the villager with clawed hands and a maw full of sharp teeth. It was wearing clothes, or whatever remained clinging to its lanky body. They almost looked… familiar?

Black cargo pants torn up way past the knees, a leg holster that was barely hanging on from the strap around its hip, and a shredded black t-shirt just like Leon-

It felt like someone had just pushed you off a cliff and let you plummet into an icy river below. You went into shock, shoulders dropping as the beast before you suddenly locked eyes with you. They were big, furious, slitted pupils drowning in a sea of sapphire blue as he looked at you with a feral hunger that could only be sated by killing.

“Leon?” you called out in disbelief.

No, it couldn’t be! He couldn’t be a werewolf. This was some sick ploy. It had to be.

He dropped the villager and stalked towards you, wolfen ears flattened against his skull, his lips curled back to reveal his bloodied canines, his clawed fingers flexing. He snapped his jaws, saliva and blood flying out as a horrid snarl clicked out from his throat.

You couldn’t let him kill you, but could you put him down?

You hesitated for a moment before you cocked your gun and pulled the trigger.

He woke up to his skull throbbing.

He winced and hissed, a groan emitting from his chest as he brought his hands up to his face. The light burned his eyes wherever it was coming from, the sound of his heart beating in his ears made his temples pound even harder. He felt like he had been ran over, thrown off a building, maybe even getting the shit beat out of him by that freak years ago in Raccoon City.

But it was always like this when he would turn.

His entire body was stiff, muscles screaming as he forced himself to move. He only managed to roll over onto his side before he had to stop. It felt like someone had just stabbed him right in the kidney, a choked shout cutting his breathing off. He braced his head against the dusty stone floor as he panted. He brought a trembling hand up to his hip where he could feel the tender skin as well as two divots in his trim waist. His skin flinched at his own touch, Leon grit his teeth and propped himself up on his other arm and finally opened his eyes.

He was in some kind of cellar, it didn’t look to be well taken care of. There were cobwebs caking the ceilings and the floor was covered in a blanket of dust and dirt. There were kegs in the cellar, some were leaking fortified wine from how long they had been aging.

Leon looked down at his hip to see he was healing. The gunpowder still sweetly caressed his nose from where he had been shot. Looking at his body, he noticed he had been shot in the shoulder he was propping himself up on and one in the calf right above his ankle. He was healing, at least, the skin closed up and slowly stitching itself back together.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself softly.

He quickly noticed that his uninjured leg had been shackled, a rusty iron chain was clamped around his shin, keeping him attached to the stone wall.

What the hell happened, anyway?

He could briefly hear the call of the wild ringing bells in the back of his mind. He could feel the beast inside of him clawing at his guts, baying to be let out again. His memory was fuzzy, no pun intended, as he tried to piece together what all had happened and why he suddenly lost control.

He rubbed at his pounding temples, brushing the sticky hair out of his face when he noticed it. Pulling his hand away, his eyes widened frantically at the sight of dried blood dusting his fingertips and crusting up under his nails. Bile suddenly bubbled wickedly in his stomach as he felt saliva pool in the back of his throat. Did he attack someone? All could remember were those fucking crazed villagers and-

You.

Leon sat straight up, wincing at the pull in his back before he locked his hands around the chain and yanked, trying to release himself. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he almost didn’t hear the cocking of a gun behind him.

Almost.

Leon whipped around, standing and then suddenly freezing. You were standing at the opposite of the small cellar, panting softly with your gun raised with both hands. His eyes zeroed in on the makeshift bandage on your bicep that was still bleeding from the looks of it. He felt dread clawing its icy way up his spine.

“(Y/n)-”

“Shut up,” you grit your teeth, nudging your gun forward. “What the actual fuck was that, Leon?”

He attacked you. He lost control of himself and attacked you when you were sent here to save his sorry ass. Did he bite too? Did he turn you? There were other bandages around you, one particular one was wrapped around your thigh. The fabric was different than the rest, it almost looked like the scarf Ashley was wearing when Leon saw her last. He could smell her faint perfume.

“Where’s Ashley-?”

“Don’t change the fucking subject; She’s here with me.” You took a step forward and Leon raised his hands in surrender. “Now what the actual fuck was that you turned into?”

#resident evil #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #werewolf!leon kennedy #werewolf!leon #werewolf!leon s kennedy

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waffles-art-writing · 9 months

Text

You… Me…? - Simon Ghost Riley X Female Assassin Reader - PART II

Summary: (PART ONE - READ FIRST) It’s been a few months since Simon started staying with you. He’s been there for you through what seems to be possibly the worse few months you’ve had to endure in a long while. There’s soft touches, calling words, tears and laughter shared.

Proofread: HA! Barely….

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x Female!Assassin!Reader with a child. ((I may write a part 3))

WordCount: 6k

Age Rating: 16+ Preferably

Codename: You pick, not mentioned really.

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: Soft!Ghost, Female!Reader, Reader has a daughter. FLUFFY SO FLUFFY, Angst… I think… Domestic Life. Panic Attacks, Emotions, If I’m missing something. Tell me.

It’s been about 6 months since Ghost’s first night at yours after the mission. Emilia basically said “move in!” Within the first day of being around the poor soul. I mean… he seemed to enjoy the ‘sleepover’ if you could even call it that. It ended up with this large tank of a man, sitting Criss cross applesauce on a couch cushion on the floor.

Watching Disney movie after Disney movie before he had to go home to actually go get a bag to stay overnight. She wasn’t too happy about that, however she was still understanding when Simon needed some time to himself. You were very proud of her when she said “that’s alright! Kinda like me at school, when it’s all loud and stuff!”. Your heart melted when she gave him her soft toy as some company just in case he got lonely while driving.

Even that night when Emilia passed out, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Half eaten. Head flopped to the side onto your leg while her feet were on Simon’s knee. You ended up taking her to bed while Simon cleaned up, meeting you in your room with a bottle of water and more painkillers for your heavily bruised ribs.

That night, all of you slept like a rock. Even Ghost, surprisingly. Even if he woke up way before everyone, and only got a max of four hours of sleep. But if you were being honest, that’s probably the best you’ve ever seen him. Actually a little more than a walking corpse, but it still made your heart ache when you saw him avoid looking in all the mirrors. Yet, you understood. Hell, you avoid them if you don’t have a shirt on. But that’s easily covered, but your face is almost on full display constantly…

—————

A scream rips through the quiet air of the apartment, gut wrenching and heart pulling. You bolt upright, the firm arm that was once wrapped around your waist is gone, the covers kicked off. Door already slammed open, sobbing echoes down the hallway and the deep hum of an attempt to soothe the sobs. You jump out of bed, beelining for your daughter's room, the small dim light of the nightlight lighting your way.

The wailing wind outside howls, the rumbling growl of the thunder in the distance almost shakes the home, the lightning flashing through the window from behind the curtains. The chilled air slipped in through the single layer windows.

Your daughter Emilia sobs, hands gripping the dark shirt of the man who is cradling her against his chest. His chin resting on the crown of her head, her hair a little messy from her tossing and turning through the night. You rush forward, sitting next to the two, your hand coming to rest on her back, her eyes welled with tears, rimmed with red as she peeks over at you. “Mama…” She whines, her small hands reaching out to you, your heart cries for your daughter. You scoop her up, holding her close as she buries her face into your shoulder, her arms wrapped around your neck. Simon sits next to you, keeping a large hand on Emilia’s back. His once plain expression showing worry, his dark eyes tracing your face.

“You’re okay sweetheart, don’t worry.” You soothe her, rocking slightly as you pull her closer. Simon stands from his seat, placing a quick kiss on the crown of your head and Emilia’s mumbling something about getting a warm drink. You nod, smiling up at the large man.

Emilia’s sobs quiet down, your eyes flicking to the side. The small clock on the bedside table lighting up with a dull pink, neon number’s reading 04:45. You sigh through your nose quietly, pressing your cheek into the top of your daughter's head.

Simon comes back, knocking on the door lightly. A small cup of warm milk - something Emilia normally has before bed - his large hand dwarfing the small mug. You stand from your spot, holding Emilia close, her legs wrapping around your waist. “Thank you…” you quietly thank him, nudging Emilia slightly for her to look up. Her teary eyes locked in on the small cat mug she picked out at a fair a few months ago.

Simon hands her the small cup, his spare hand moving to push the young girl’s messy hair out of her face. “You are one brave kid, Emilia.” Simon states, voice quiet. She smiles as she sips on the warm milk, eyes still rimmed with red.

You make your way back to your room, sitting on the bed. Emilia in your lap with her mug securely in her hands. Simon shuts the door quietly, climbing onto the bed next to the two of you. Simon leans against the headboard, stifling a yawn as he looks over to the alarm clock. He’s been actually sleeping ever since staying a few nights at yours, yet when this happens he won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

—————

After some time, light chatter, storytelling and tucking Emilia in between the two of you. She’s out cold, your hand on her back, her face smushed into Simon’s arm that's acting as her pillow. “She’s out…” Simon whispers, his eyes looking over Emilia’s features. You can see his eyes just over Emilia’s head, a small smile on your face as you nod your head. “No surprise.” You hum, hand rubbing up and down your daughters back. Simon's free hand coming up to lay across yours, he can feel your hand shaking ever so slightly.

He glances over to you, brows furrowed. “Y/N?” He whispers, his hand linking with yours properly. Thumb rubbing against the back of your hand. You sigh quietly, closing your eyes. “Just… Her crying or waking up from a nightmare always scares me… it rattles me.” You whisper, voice barely making a sound. Simon sits up, carefully moving his arm from out of underneath Emilia’s head. He scoops the young girl up, placing her where he was once laying down. Pulling you over slightly, placing himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. His nose nudging the back of your neck, leaving a small kiss, littering them across the back of your shoulders.

“It will forever scare you, she is your daughter.” He mumbles, his breath fanning across your skin. “She is your flesh and blood, her pain is your pain. Her cries will forever hit you in the heart, make you feel the same pain she is feeling.” He states, you sigh. Leaning into him, turning your head to look at him. “Thank you Simon… for everything.” You whisper, he presses his forehead against yours. Eyes closing with a heavy breath. “Don’t mention it, now sleep. You need it.” He states, leaving a small kiss on your lips. You smile, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. Still not used to getting this sort of affection after so long of being on your own.

——————

Today was not anyone’s day, well in your house it wasn’t. Last night Emilia had another scary dream, three nights in a row now. First time you thought it was just the bad weather outside, Simon even agreed with you. The second night, you thought it was probably just the fact she was a little antsy because of the spelling bee that was the next morning. But last night, there was no plausible explanation as to why she would be scared, nervous or anxious about anything. You even called Simon about it, to see if you were just being over dramatic or not. He said you weren't, and suggested for you to take the day to do something to get your mind off it.

So… Today was the day you were taking her to a playdate with a friend, you would go out and do some shopping for Christmas in a few months, which to your dismay was quickly turning into a few weeks.

Which leads you to where you are now, standing in an aisle of the store, with the one god damn shopping cart with a stiff and squeaky wheel. To add to your agitation, there was a baby crying on the far side of the store, which you swear sounded like it was coming from right next to you.

Starbucks fucked up your order, you played it off like it was nothing but on the inside, you were cursing them out like it was a boxing match with verbal insults. Your car was low on petrol, so you had to dig around for spare cash to be able to just buy the fuel without breaking into your savings… which doesn’t have a lot in it to begin with… and to just add the sweet ol’ cherry of making your day even worse….

You got your period.

So with this whole mixing pot of shit, you are now staring down boxes of fake Christmas trees. With one question in mind. Snow or not to Snow? Yes it’s winter, it’s snowing outside, yes you could get a fake tree, with fake snow. Sounds stupid. But this year is the very first year you’ll be spending Christmas with a new person. Simon. He’s luckily not being deployed these holidays, which you were happy about. Because Emilia practically begged for him to join you guys, he was unsure at the start. Still a little hesitant now, but is still going to come.

All years before this one you had just a small christmas tree, tucked away in the corner. Half the time you went to another family member’s place, but this year they are going on a family trip… which you can’t attend due to limited money…. PERFECT family am I right… fuck them.

But you wanted to make it memorable no matter what, so here you are.

You pick up the box with the tree that has built in lights. “Fuck the snow, fuck the lights. I ain’t untangling them. Fuck this, why am I here. I wanna be sick.” You mumble, trying to put the box in the cart but it’s not fitting in. You push it, tug it, shove it. Eventually hitting it with a frustrated shout.

Your chest tightens, throat closing up as you crouch down. You grip at your hair, tears stinging your eyes as you just feel so…

“Hey, Hey, Hey… Y/N, look at me.” A voice cuts through your rushing thoughts, hands on your shoulders.

Your head snaps up, blurry vision as you try to focus on the person in front of you.

“Look at me Love, you’re okay. Just breathe… look at me.”

“Simon?…”

“Yes, it’s me. Just breathe, I need you to breathe. You’re hyperventilating. Just focus on your breathing for me.” He says, kneeling in front of you. Making sure you’re looking at him, his face mask being a good substitute for the balaclava. A black cap accompanies it.

You suck in a breath, it hurts, not as much as just before. But it still does, your throat still feels tight. Palms sweating, eyes stinging. It feels like your whole body is just wound tight, like a coil. Almost like a snake ready to strike, it was bound to happen. You close your eyes, listening to Simon talk, he’s guiding you through this battle, a battle of emotions.

Simon happened to need to get a few last minute things before he came around to yours tonight, aka buy all the things he knows you’ll probably want. He knew just by the sound of your voice over the phone that something was up, more than just Emilia’s sleeping problem. It was when he just happened to spot a blanket, one that you’ve been eyeing for a while. A big cosy weighted one to go on the couch, while he was looking at it he heard your shout of frustration. He immediately recognised it, he was rounding the corner into the aisle when he saw you crouch down. Tears spilling over onto your cheeks, he knew you were frustrated…

But god, he didn’t realise it had gotten this bad.

“Y/N, look at me darling. Talk to me, what do you see? Tell me.” He instructs, waiting for your answer to the question, may sound silly but it is a good way to get anyone who is having a panic attack, PTSD episode or simply just overwhelmed to calm their breathing and rushing thoughts.

“I see… Y-You.. I see you, and the stupid fucking shopping cart.” You huff out the end of your sentence, Simon letting out a light chuckle. “Squeaky wheel?” You simply nod at his query, letting out a huff of air as you wipe your eyes. Next thing you know, is your body being hoisted up from under your arms, you look up at the large lieutenant. “Now, what else do you need other than… whatever the fuck is in your cart?” He asks, peering into the shopping cart.

Apart from the box of the christmas tree, there’s a roll of wrapping paper, a box of some new Christmas decorations. A lot of colours mashed into one cart, and there lays the list, sitting on top of your side bag. Three things ticked off the unnervingly large list. Simon picks up the list, stepping back over to you, glancing up to look around to see if he can spot any signage to give a clue as to where he could find the items.

“I have no clue how I’m going to handle this, I am not in the mood to be here at all.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself, a cramp biting its way through the painkiller you took before you left the house. Simon’s large hand cups your cheek, making you look up at him. “Hey, I’m here. We will do this together, or we can come back another time.” His voice rumbles, sending a shiver down your spine. You simply nod, lips pulling into a thin line. “Thank you…” Simon shakes his head, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “Quit thanking me, alright?” He states, pulling you into his side.

“Now, should we start with the new clothes for Emilia?” His voice held a happier tone to it, only ever so slightly.

—————

“Simon you really didn’t have to, I could’ve paid for it.”

“No.”

“Simon…. Please at least let me pay you back somehow.”

“No.”

You sit there with a pout, creased brows and hands motion in a ‘huh??’ Expression. He just paid for the whole Christmas shopping, he even went back in after you loaded up the car with a bag in hand. Keeping it away from you so you can’t see into it, which you didn't push to look into but still it caught your curiosity.

“Now I feel guilty… that was a lot of money.” You state, looking down as you pick at the stitching of your jacket. Simon is driving, he walked to the store because he doesn’t own a car. Well he did, but swapped out for a bike so he has an excuse to not leave his flat as often. Which is why you are the one mainly driving everywhere. “Don’t feel guilty, your payment to me is just being happy.” He states, making your cheeks warm at his words.

*He what? Nah surely I heard him wrong, right? What does he mean by that, that can’t be a payment. I may seem happy but I’m just putting on an act… well I was… still am… I think?*

“God you’re cheesy” you mumble with a small laugh, Simon chuckles as he starts the car.

—————

The muffled steps of running breaks your calm, you place your book down and look towards the front door. The jingle of keys and the opening of the door sounds out, Simon holds the door open as Emilia runs inside. Cheeks rosy from the chilled air, and by the sounds of it, running down the walkway outside to get to the apartment.

“MAMA! Look what Papa got me!” Your heart stops, blood chilling as you stare wide eyed at your young daughter. She’s distracted by kicking off her boots by the door and throwing her jacket onto the hook to notice both the adults that are present freeze.

Everything seems to go in slow motion, your eyes moving up to meet Simon. He just managed to close the door when your daughter called him the title of Father. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears, hands shaking as you move to sit up right. Simon just stares back at you, face neutral as usual but still his eyes are flooding with emotion. He places the bag down on the ground, toeing his boots off mindlessly.

You’re snatched from your trance by your daughter jumping onto the couch with a small box in her hands. You shake your head lightly, your mind still in a mess as you try still your shaky hands. “What did Simon get you Pumpkin?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact she just called your…. Boyfriend? No… you haven’t agreed on that… Your situationship… her father. You’ll talk to the man in question later, when Emilia is either asleep or occupied watching the TV.

Simon just stands by the door, heart beating so loudly he thought it might as well have broken through his ribs and be on a speaker for the world to hear. His chest is tight, it's warm but still it hurts. Almost suffocating, he’s touched by the name but still, there’s that nagging. Tugging, almost ripping, feeling clawing at his thoughts.

*No, I can’t… She’s just young, she doesn’t understand what it means. Just ignore it, push it aside like you always do. Like leaving for a mission, drown these stupid fucking feelings and forget about them… like you always do, so easily… like always… so easily…*

His body was moving on its own, placing the items he got in the kitchen and putting them away. Muscle memory, he swallows thickly as the words race around his mind again. ‘Fucking stop it, Simon…’ he curses to himself. He leans on the countertop, glancing up to spot you smiling. Emilia smiling back up at you, joyful as always. You are practically glowing in his eyes, not just you.

No, both of you.

Both you and your daughter are like the sun, shining so brightly and warming in his cold and dark life it makes it almost impossible for him to slink back into the darkness. To drown himself in Jack Daniels while sitting slumped back at his flat, that's cold and dark… practically empty and dusty. He’s barely stepped foot in it when he returns after the few missions he’s been on since that one with you 6 months ago. God, he can’t even stand staying there because of how just… miserable it makes him feel when he isn’t with you and your daughter. You have managed to light up all the dark and dingy cracks in his life in the span of mere months, hell he practically survives off your presence when he’s not at base.

If he was to actually pay attention to what his body says when he leaves for a mission, he will realise it is sad, in pain. He would find it difficult to leave you and Emilia if he didn’t push the emotions aside and just got on with it….

You meet his eyes, smiling at him. That goddamn smile… the same one your daughter has and willingly gives… yet he can tell yours is from years of pain and hardship but finally, your light is shining through and it's not only affecting him in good ways but also you.

—————

It’s been a few weeks since your daughter called Simon “Papa.” That night you were planning on talking to Simon, but you didn’t end up getting the chance. You passed out on the couch with Emilia, the painkillers for your cramps make you drowsy, so in turn. You were out cold when it was bedtime for your daughter. Simon ended up carrying both of you to your respective beds, you were out like a light, just like your daughter. “Like Mother, Like Daughter” he quietly joked when he saw you both asleep.

You tried to talk to him throughout the few weeks but things just kept getting in the way, or you forgot about it, or even he was at base for work.

Then the worst thing you could think of could happen just before Christmas, the flu. Emilia is curled up on the couch, breathing heavily in her sleep. You’re quietly picking up the dirty tissues from around the couch, carefully picking one up that’s clasped in her hand. You knew something was up, she woke up yesterday with a headache, feeling warm. You suspected it was just a cold, so you let her stay home. Today was supposed to be the last day of school, she was so excited for it as she would’ve gotten to have a shared lunch.

You dump the dirty tissues into the bin, grabbing some cleaner and a rag. Wiping down all the surfaces to try keep the flu off most surfaces, if you were honest with yourself. Your efforts are working but not as much as you wished. You’ve been fighting a head cold all morning, chugging water and a few pills to hopefully clear up your sinuses, to no avail.

You tip the bowl of half eaten soup down the drain, rinsing it out before placing it in the dishwasher. You lean on the counter, rubbing your temples. Groaning quietly as you feel like your head is a bag of sand, the ticking of the clock on the wall sounding ungodly to your ears. Loud and irritating. Then an ear piercing knock hit the door, it sounds deafening to you, yet you know it was a gentle knock.

You make your way to the door, opening it and cringing away from the light. “You might wanna go back to Base… Emilia has the Flu and I have… whatever the fuck I have.” You grumble, noticing it’s Simon. “Yeah right, like I’m going to leave you alone after being gone for nearly a week.” He states, pushing the door open more and nudging you to the side. His hand immediately pressed against your forehead.

His hand is cold against your forehead, you start leaning into it as it soothes the throbbing. “You’re burning up, fucking hell. Go sit down.” He instructs, you wave him off, grumbling something he doesn’t catch.

“Y/N… go sit down.” He grunts, leaving the bag of things on the counter. You flip him off, ignoring his gaze and words as you go about folding laundry that’s on the table. “I’m fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You pause, feeling yourself waver, the world starts to spin. The feelings of your stomach knotting fills you, your throat burns. You drop the shirt and sprint to the bathroom, sliding down on your knees, leaning on the toilet bowl.

Simon is right behind you, holding your hair out of your face, hand rubbing your back soothingly. Tears burn your eyes. You hate being sick, because you end up crying. You don’t know why, but you’ve always done it, it’s not like it hurts or anything. You just don’t like it, it’s just a wave of emotion that hits you as well as vomiting up whatever is in your stomachs. Your hands clench the edges of the porcelain surface, gagging as your shoulders shake.

“Breathe, Y/N you need to breathe.”

The timbre of Simon's voice cuts through your rushing head, you didn’t even notice that you’re breathing quickly. Almost hyperventilating. Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be? You’re fucking crying.

“Love, breathe. Focus on me, not anything else, just me.” He says, voice soft but still commanding.

‘You can turn a civilian into a lieutenant but never turn a lieutenant into a civilian.’ Or something, you aren’t sure you just know whatever Price once said is about a soldier never losing their commanding voice even if in a civilian uniform.

You sit back, a damp cloth being placed in your hand. You wipe your mouth, tilting your head up at the ceiling with closed eyes as you flush the toilet, the taste of stomach acid tainting the back of your throat, coating your tongue.

That alone almost sends you into another gagging mess.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re okay…” you simply nod as you listen to Simon. Tears still staining your cheeks, you blink your eyes open.

The sound of running water fills the room, the sound of a plastic lid being flipped open breaks through the rushing water. You glance over, the tub being filled with water, Hot? Warm? Cold? You don’t know, you just know you see Simon rustling around with a bag of sorts along with what looks like a soap bottle.

Epsom Salts. Salts to relax your body and give you an energy boost, allegedly.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, shifting to lean onto the side of the bathtub. Hand dipping into the water, it’s hot but not too hot. It’s nice.

“Running you a bath, gotta get you to relax and give you energy.” Simon's voice rumbles, sending a calm wash through you. You just hum, pressing your forehead into the cold porcelain on the edge.

Hands run across your back, slipping around to your front pulling you gently to look up at Simon.

“Get undressed and get in, I’ll be back okay?” He states, helping you stand to sit on the toilet, flicking the lid down. You give him a thumbs up, yawning as you drag your shirt over your head.

You hear hushed voices from outside the door, a small whine of protest and a breathy chuckle.

“Well your mum needs to rest, she’s not feeling too well. Like you.” Simon’s voice mumbles, soft and low to not break the quiet air too much. He scoops Emilia up in his arms, keeping her snug in the cocoon of a blanket. “Can I see Mama?” She sniffles, her stuffy nose making it harder to breathe. “I’m sure she won’t mind, but you’re off to bed straight after. Deal?” “Deal!” Simon smiles down at her, his arms holding her close.

He quietly walks towards the bathroom, pushing the door open. He notices the lights are off and a few candles are lit, smelling lavender. “Love?” The man asks, peering around the door. “You can come in.” You chuckle lightly, leaning onto your arms on the side of the tub. Simon steps in, crouching down next to you with Emilia, she’s already reaching out to you.

Her hands resting on your cheeks, something she’s always done, especially when one of you is sick. You have no clue where she picked it up from, she would normally press her forehead against yours but you’ve warned her about doing it if one of you is sick. She’s a smart kid.

“Hey sweetie.” You smile, placing a hand over hers. “Are you okay? Papa said you’re sick, like me.” She asks, you can see tears starting to well in her eyes. Heart swelling with emotions, still noticing she called Simon papa again. “Aww. Pumpkin, it’s just a tummy bug. That’s all, I’ll be healthy as a horse in no time. But, we’ll both get better quicker if we both rest.” You state, brushing your fingers through her hair. Trying to tame her wild hair.

“So… Simon is gonna take you to bed, alright? I know it’s a bit early, but it’s to help us both get better okay?” Emilia nods her head, quickly pulling away to cough into her elbow. It sounds painful, both you and Simon grimace a little at her strained lungs.

“Sleep well my darling.” You smile, running a thumb over her cheek. “Night Night Mama.” She smiles, sniffling. Turning back to hide in the blanket, tucking herself deep in Simon’s arms.

———

You sit there in the hot water, focusing on your breathing. The scent of the candles wafting through the air, the warmth of the water relaxing your muscles. You smile gently to yourself, honestly surprised, A little flustered, but mainly grateful for Simon and what he has done. Yet you’re a little nervous that he may get sick himself, and if you know him well enough he will just brush it off and continue to go about life as he normally does.

You’re beyond happy that Emilia has taken a shine to him, as if she wouldn’t. But you’re a little bit surprised? Maybe… that Simon has so easily been able to slip into almost a domesticated world without being overwhelmed by all of it. Sure he has his days, everyone does, especially people like him. You’re happy he’s your boyfriend - wait, no. You haven’t figured that out yet. Friend with benefits? No that sounds harsh and crude, really good friend that you’re happy to share a bed with and let him kiss you occasionally? No, the title is too long. Situationship? Maybe, you’ll ask him about it. Especially since Emilia called him Papa again, something you have yet to tick off your mental list of shit to talk to her about.

Simon shuts Emilia’s door quietly, walking back towards the bathroom. Knocking on the doorframe, hearing you mumble a quiet ‘come in’. He steps into the tiled room, coming to crouch down next to you. Knees almost clicking, causing him to hide a grimace.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice rumbles, quiet to not cause any headache to ensue. You shrug, leaning on your arms again on the edge of the bath, bubbles popping quietly on the surface of the water. “Better… calm. A little tired but still awake enough to talk to you.” You smile, your cheek pressed against your arm.

“Good. I just want you to relax, you’ve had a shitty week. You both have.” He vaguely motions in the direction of Emilia’s room. He notices how your eyebrows are set, furrowed gently, barely noticeable. You’re thinking.

“What’s on yer’ mind?” He asks, adjusting to sit on the floor properly.

“You”

“Me?”

You nod your head, leaning back a little. You notice his eyes aren’t leaving your face. He’s trying to figure out what you mean, you sigh, sinking lower into the water, below the dying bubbles.

“It's about what Emilia said…” your voice trails off, Simon tilts his head, throat going dry. He knows what you are talking about, he’s just anxious? Uneasy, feeling unwell almost.

“Is it because she called me her father?” He asks quietly, watching you look over at him. Nodding, your lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah, I want to say I’m sorry. I should be telling her you aren’t her father and that you and I… we aren't officially together, what are we? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we a situationship? Friends with benefits? What do-” you ramble, brain going a million miles a minute. Almost making you breathless, chest tight with trying to figure out what you two are.

“What do you want us to be?” Your words die in your throat when you hear him ask the question, you look at him. Tracing his features with your eyes, his scars, ruffled hair from wearing a hat all day. His stubbled jaw, which is clenched, you can see it.

“… I don’t know…”

Simon nods his head, he had a feeling you would be unsure.

He’s even unsure on what he wants you to be to him, he wants you in his life and Emilia. His fingers twitch to move, to hold you close. He sighs, looking down at the tiled floor, shifting in his spot as he looks back up at you. He sees your eyes unfocused, he knows that look. Always the same, no matter what. You’re thinking.

“I want you to be in my life Simon, I want you to be in my daughter's life…” you pause briefly. “You have become such a big part of it in such a short time. You understand the struggles I go through, even though you aren’t a parent. But you understand that this is hard, and you’ve been there for me for the entire time you’ve been here…” you state, looking at him.

“I want you here Simon… I want you to be a part of this family. Only if you want to.”

Simon’s world slows, your words repeating themselves like a record. His chest tightens, muscles constrict and relax. His eyes dart between yours, to your lips then back to your eyes. The same eyes he’s seen tears in, creased at the edges from laughter or blown out in the dark room to see him as much as they could.

“I want to.”

Your lips part, looking at him. “I-… Uh.. I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want-” “I want to be with you Y/N. I want to be able to call being with you, home. come back to this apartment and see both you and Emilia.” He cuts you off, knowing you would try to spill all the regret you may have towards the matter.

His hand tilts your chin up to look at him, his eyes soft. Fingers gentle against your skin as he moves his hand to where your shoulder and neck meet.

“I would do anything to call you mine, to say that I have someone at home waiting. I want to be able to be here for you, help you through all the shit you have on. I don’t care if I have to stay up late, making sure Emilia is sleeping while you try to sleep yourself.” He pauses, smiling gently.

“I want to be here for you to lean on me, to cry to me if you need, scream at me cause you’re frustrated, punch me because you’re angry. I want to be here to laugh at some silly joke Emilia comes home with from school, or help her with school projects… granted I’m not the most artistic person out there…” you chuckle at his words, leaning into his hand.

“I want to call you mine… and I want to be yours if you would give me the honour of allowing me to be.” His voice is firm, but soft and earnest.

You nod your head, biting your lip as a tear falls down your cheek. “Of course…” you sniffle, laughing to yourself for how silly you must look. “God I must look pathetic.” You mumble, Simon just shakes his head, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You don’t look pathetic… You are as stunning as always… despite the bed hair.” He teases lightly, you just laugh. Grasping his wrist, leaning into his hand.

“You’re an asshole…” he just shrugs, leaning in. “But you like it, cause that means you can be an asshole back…” he muses, you just sigh, shaking your head. “Yeah yeah. Whatever you say Lieutenant.” A sly smile spreads across your lips, it quickly dies as Simon closes the gap between you.

His lips are firm, passionate, confident but also gentle and loving. You can feel the emotion behind the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his other hand dipping into the water. Sliding down your back as you lift your arms, wrapping them around his shoulders. He chuckles against your lips, mumbling “Don’t drag me in there, Love.” You smile, pulling back to look at him. “I’m not that cruel.” You smirk, running a hand through his short cut hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly, a shiver running down his back.

You scoop up some bubbles in your free hand, blowing them into his face. His once raised brows drop, the small smirk gone. He flutters his eyes open, staring at you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

TAGLIST: @grandnuttrash @thesnailus (Idk if this worked)

#fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #female reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #lieutenant ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty fanfic

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judasgot-it · 1 year

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dazai seems to go after women who don’t fall for him easily; what if you did a reader who didn’t really care or be affected by his romantic advances?

oooooo rip Dazai would 100% go CRAZY bro. I don't do yandere but lowkey Dazai would be a bit of a yandere in this case...

Scenario: Dazai getting rejected by reader constantly (Trigger warnings for Dazai's alcoholism and addiction, also for other depression mentions)

The known flirt was at it again.

You knew his name - he insisted on making you ring up his order every time he came to your store every day. It was innocent enough really. You didn't even notice it, since he was so easy to be drawn into a conversation with, and you wouldn't lie when he asked if you thought he was cute.

He was, especially compared to some of the older men you've seen come in, those who would buy cigarettes and alcohol at odd hours of the night. A real shame that he was just as bad as them once you saw him come by time and time again.

The man would buy the cheapest alcohol and some of the cheapest foods, occasionally splurging on some 'nice' sweets - only if he was with seemingly young coworkers of his. At least he was nice in that aspect, not forcing children to pay for themselves whenever he was out shopping for his assumedly drunken nights.

A part of you wished that you could feel attracted to him. He was really charming when he wanted to be.

But his shopping habits disturbed you.

What man, in his early 20s and living assumedly alone, needed to buy so many different medications? You weren't one to judge, but he was just extremely strange.

He might not have realized it either, but you worked day and night shifts at that store - you saw him when he was at his worst buying pre-packed sushi, and you've never seen a man appear more...haggard.

So maybe it was hard to find him attractive when he was put together for work the next day. He might have looked nice, smelling of a strange cologne, but you could never get the picture of him in his slacks, with sweat stains on his shirt, tearing open his pre-packaged sushi like a rabid anime out of the mental movie you held.

He was like the babadook.

It disturbed you deeply.

"Well, good morning my belladonna! Tell me, do you think this wouldn't make just a lovely hour to feel our entangled hands grow cold together? Watching the rising sun fall upon our corpses?"

More than that, somehow.

How did he ever lose his virginity when he flirted like that? You wished you could ask him that one day.

"Let me ring you up, Dazai."

Your boss would kill you if she ever learned that you were rude to customers. Unfortunately, Dazai was just another customer you would have to put up with. His words would simply have to roll off of you.

"You know Ms. y/n, I really wish we could see each other more often, without a counter between us. I know this really great place that serves excellent coffee."

"Better than what you bought?"

Dazai laughed that comment off.

"Oh, you're funny Y/n. They have a little secret about how they keep their coffee so fresh, I'm quite close with the owners you know?"

You just shook your head, placing his items in a bag. He had bought bulk coffee grains and...canned crab? You didn't want to know why he ate that.

"Your total is 9.35, congrats. Cash or card?"

Dazai took his careful time taking out his wallet, leaning onto the counter, and taking up as much of your personal space as he could. He took out his card and not so subtly looked at you as he inserted it into the card reader.

"Y/n, you should really think about my offer. It would be quite sweet, don't you think?"

"Coffee or the suicide?"

Dazai laughed again - his weird wet laugh, the one that made you feel like you were talking with some sort of deranged serial killer. He gave off the vibe. There was something he was hiding in his smile.

His bandages hid something, which you frankly didn't want to know more about.

"Whichever works, I like how your misery feels. It makes me feel less alone in my own."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were empty, dark holes that stared right into you, leaving you exposed. His smile was vacant as well, watching with interest as you absorbed whatever he was. There were many words you wished you could say, but your work cameras were watching this transaction carefully.

"That's nice. I hope you have a good day."

You turned away from him, signaling that the transaction was over.

There was no one else in the store but the two of you, not even the sunlight.

Just you, him, and the silence.

Dazai gleefully reached over, taking his bag into his arms and pressing his body into the counter, leaning his face as close to yours as he could. You could feel his laughs against the low collar of your shirt - his dark eyes as they slowly traced up your form, which still looked right through your body.

He was invading through something deeper, and you wished you could put up some sort of barrier. Crossing your arms over your body did little to ease you as you tried to play him off, trying to give him as little of a reaction as he wanted.

Dazai wasn't a pervert, he wasn't a creep - he was something else.

He wanted something else from you.

It had you on edge. You didn't even know how to stop him from eating that part of you, swallowing you into whatever abyss he was.

That man was human, but every time he came close he made you want to run.

But despite being so close to you, he didn't say anything. No leering comments, no threats.

You heard him leave, which was when you finally had the courage to look at where he last stood.

He didn't even leave anything in his wake.

Nothing to truly disturb you, at the very least.

Just a daisy, which you were sure he had kept in his pocket this entire time.

He was odd like that. The guy always tried to keep his moments elaborate, so he would stick in your head for days.

Unfortunately, it worked. No matter how much you tried to ignore him.

I have no idea if this is actually the prompt haha but I like the idea of Dazai not being like a full-on yandere even though that's kinda canon? But him being like a real freak. Also oml thank you for being so patient cause this was in my ask box forever! and I still have more!

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd x y/n #daza x y/n #dazai x you

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anothertimdrakestan · 9 months

Text

Death Wont Do - Jason Todd x Reader

TW: blood & gore & angst

a little more dramatic and descriptive than my usual style, let me know what you think

~~~

It's like a 6th sense. The quietest feeling that something's wrong. The feeling in your stomach that keeps you up just a little later than normal.

You were sat on the couch of your apartment, mindlessly checking your phone as some song hummed softly in the background, a glass of something bubbly on the side table next to you to fill the void of Jason being out on patrol. You knew he'd come back later than you usually stayed up, but you felt like waiting for a goodnight kiss.

And suddenly you got the text:

It's Tim on J's phone, get to cave asap if you're reading this.

A pit formed in your stomach as you rushed to grab your keys. A few minutes drive and 10 missed calls as you frantically dialed Tim and Jason before realizing it was serious enough neither was responding.

You braced yourself for what you'd walk into: blood, pain, panic, but the cave was empty. Confusion bubbled up against the fear, hoping between clenched teeth for a prank or a lighthearted surprise. Nonetheless, your instincts urged you to prepare for the worst.

You pulled out the medbay: stitching supplies at the ready, stretcher wheels unlocked, bandages organized just the way Alfred had taught you- where was Alfred? Where was Bruce or Damian- even Jon or Conner who were frequently watching some sort of cartoon on the giant screen in the cave at this time.

Cass was the first in the cave, you recognized the rev of her bike, rushing to the entrance. Her suit was torn, deep gashes that stung you just by looking at them. She pulled off her mask with a wince, an expression you weren't used to seeing on her typical stoic face. You were her shadow as she sat herself down at your faux-medbay and began cleaning and stitching her own wounds, she wouldn't want to be touched right now and from your assessment she was more than capable in her condition.

You broke the steady silence: "is it- is everyone? What happened out there Cass?" knowing she wouldn't really respond you took her shaking her head as a gutwrenching response.

And for what might've been the first time in your life, you saw her whipser "bad" as she locked eyes with you.

Before you could process just what that meant, the quiet hum of the batmobile ripped you from your dread and into action. You heard an echoing shout as Damian lept from the passenger seat of the still moving car, almost flying towards you as the batmobile came to a screeching halt.

"It's Todd, it's not good. Quickly." were the few words the boy wonder could mutter as he started pulling the stretcher towards the car. You followed silently, blood already pounding in your ears.

The door of the car opened and you saw Jason draped across the backseat, muttering and groaning as Damian began to drag him onto the stretcher.

You froze at the sight, bones jutted up out of his skin like a brutal landscape of fractures. His skin, paler than ever before, appeared as if it had lost all its color, like it had bled out completely. Like a corpse in a movie, where CGI created almost inhumane wounds, Jason bore them right in front of you.

Tim's car door slamming ripped you from your shock. He rounded the car instantly and began helping Damian gently move Jason to the cot. While Cass and Damian were silent in a panic, Tim couldn't help but talk through his terror:

"It's all over, well pretty much over. Bruce and the rest are out cleaning it up but he told us to get Jay home because well, I mean he hasn't look worse since probably his first death. And I really don't want to be here for his second. Dames, pull I'll push, God he's heavy, alright, Y/N lock the wheels Damian grab start cleaning wounds on his legs I'll take torso- Y/N? Lock the damn wheels."

Again you snapped into reality, realizing you'd trailed behind the bloody precession. You lowered yourself to secure the wheels, the cool air providing a momentary relief as the weight of the situation settled in. You thought about staying down there, curling up beneath the cot and waiting until the nightmare was over. Tim and Damian were a well oiled triage machine above you- calling out stitching plans, applying bandages, preparing casts for the breaks.

And for the first time, Jason called out softly for you, "Y/N?" You shot up, immediately at his side, pushing the sweat and blood matted hair away from his eyes. They were closed, furrowed in agony but he still called for you, "where's Y/N? I need to see-"

"I'm here, I'm right here Jace." your voice wavering, but he got more frantic, shaking and groaning as Tim and Damian began to restrain him. "No! I need to see her! Stop, take me home! She lives at-"

"Jace I'm right here, I'm here, can you look at me?" your voice was pitchy and raw as you cupped his cheek in your hand. As you lightly pressed your finger to his temple his eyes shot open and wildly took in his surroundings before landing on you. Like an exhale he sunk back into the stretcher, eyes fluttering shut once again.

Beneath his closed eyelids, the pain etched deep lines on his face, but Tim soldiered on, having forced Damian to go tend to his own wounds. The silence was painful, but you had to ask, "he's gonna be okay right?"

Tim's eyes flashed up to meet yours with a kind of smile, "this big guy's been dipped in the Lazarus pit. It's gonna take more than some broken bones and a few lost pints of blood to kill him. Here, come bandage his arms, it's better than staring at his ugly face." you felt a small smile bubble up, Jason's face was bruised and his nose slightly crooked, but you appreciated the quip.

"Here, clean, apply gauze, and wrap. These are all superficial so I promise you can't mess anything up." he pushed bandaging materials into your shaking hands. At first you could barely move, but soon it felt soothing to lend a helping hand. Tim was focused and quiet, and you slowly worked your way up each of Jason's arms, carely wrapping any tear in his skin you could find.

Tim suddenly stepped back with a deep and satified sigh, heading towards the medicine pantry. He came back with an IV and softly nudged your shoulder, "he'll be okay, gonna give him fluids and enough of a sedative to knock him out for a few hours. Go wash off, eat something, and come on back to trade my shift watching him."

You nodded, looking down to realize you were also now covered in a layer of sweat and blood. "Tim, he would've died without you, you're incredible. I'll be right back." you couldn't exactly find the words for the gratitude, but Tim shook it off nonetheless.

"I had to stay in the 'zero Jason deaths' club, Bruce and Dick would've had a field day." you shook your head, beelining for a shower.

When you came back down to the cave Tim was in a tshirt and sweatpants, his own bandages peeking from the sleeves of the shirt. "Ready for a shift change?" you called, causing him to swivel around in the batcave chair and stand up with a stretch.

"You were fast! He'll probably wake up in a few hours, text me whenever for whatever." with a yawn he shuffled out of the cave and you planted yourself in the chair next to Jason.

You nearly screamed as Jason suddenly whispered "is he gone?" Like a cartoon he opened one squinting eye before deciding to fully lock his emerald eyes with your own. "Coast is clear, how are you love?"

You were stunned, "I- you were- how are you? I mean I'm fine, clearly. But what in the-" Jason laughed into a wince but answered:

"Had a couple crazy dreams, I woke up when I heard you call for Tim but wanted the shift change so Tim didn't spend 20 minutes calling me an idiot and a careless maniac.

You shook your head, "and if I call you an idiot and a careless maniac?" but Jason just hummed and attempted to shrug. "Jason Peter Todd you almost died!"

"Keyword there is 'almost' sweetheart."

"And what if Tim and Damian weren't there? What if you'd actually died?" you cupped his cheek again, letting the weight of his head rest into your palm.

"Not even death would stop me from crawling home to you." he vowed. At that, you sunk down, resting your head on his shoulder and lightly running your hand across his chest.

"I believe you, I do. But tell me you'll never let it get to that. This was too much for me Jace I almost thought you were dead when they pulled you out of the car."

He tensed, "you were here for all that? I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you like that." You couldn't believe the man on his deathbed was apologizing to you, but somehow it all felt very Jason Todd.

"It's okay Jay, I'm just glad you're here."

"Always, now scoot me over so I can hold you," he murmered, groaning as he pushed himself over enough to make room for you to slip in next to him. He went to raise his arm and looked annoyed saying, "damn Tim bandaged my whole damn arms. I look like a mummy the hell was he doing" and you stiffened against him.

"Okay asshole that's my bandaging work there, and I'll have you know I stopped a whole lot of your blood from pouring out of your arms." you gave him a childish glare while Jason looked at you with a smirk.

"Remind me never to get a papercut around you, I might lose circulation." he teased, draped a mummy-arm around you as you relaxed into his embrace.

You retorted: "At least I didn't get wheeled into the cave looking like casper the ghost"

"Alright alright, no more near death experiences, scout's honor." he chuckled, and you decided it was a good enough promise for now.

"Deal" you replied, slowly letting the soft sound of Jason's breathing lull you to sleep as your adrenaline had finally dissipated, finally allowing yourself to believe your boy would live to see another night.

Tomorrow? Or the day after that? Well, that would have to be future Y/N's problem :)

Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you caught the song reference. xoxo

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