#it almost feels like when victim was confirmed in the series

[odxrilove]

☆ WONWOO BOYFRIEND HABITS

pairing: wonwoo x reader

genre: headcannons, fluff, established relationship

a/n: 6th part of the seventeen boyfriend habits series (requested) !! sent an ask to suggest the next member! ask to be on the taglist or fill out the form!

back to seventeen boyfriend habits masterlist!

☆ always offers you his shoulder to lean on whenever you yawn

you first met wonwoo in one of your classes, he was seated in the row just behind you. when one day, you were begging one of your friends to send you the notes because you had fallen asleep during your two hour long lecture, wonwoo slowly came forward and lent you his perfect notes, pushing his glasses up his note cutely. you thanked him and bowed so much it almost embarrassed him. after that day, wonwoo realized that you often fell asleep in class and his friend, your seatmate, told him that you normally didn’t get much sleep because of homework and your part-time job. he also realized you both took the same bus so after a lot of hyping up from his friends, he asked if you wanted to sit next to him. whenever you took the bus (with wonwoo by your side), your eyes would close minutes after being seated and your head would fall on his shoulder, leaving the poor boy frozen in place so as to not wake you up. you falling asleep on his shoulder soon became a habit and even years later, wonwoo would always offer you his shoulder whenever he saw you yawn.

☆ softly bites you when he gets the urge

all the people close close to wonwoo have been at least one time the victim of his biting habit. of course, it’s not that bad of a habit but it sure is unexpected. wonwoo, the guy who’s too shy to speak to people and who prefers staying home reading and playing video games over going out, biting people?! where did that nonsense even come from, that’s what you thought to yourself when one of your mutual friends warned you. the latter had noticed the two of you getting closer and thought he should tell you before it was too late (read: before you were going to get bitten). you just brushed it off and decided it was only a joke until you witnessed it yourself. and when a few days after that, you were laughing along with wonwoo and he leaned forward, teeth inches away from your arm, you could only nod confusedly as he seemed to ask for consent by making eye contact. it was a small bite and it didn’t hurt so when he retreated and blushed with an embarrassed smile, you just patted his head, confirming you weren’t mad.

☆ plays absentmindedly with your jewelry

wonwoo has always liked jewelry, he thinks it completes an outfit and he often finds himself stopping in front of jewelry stores. so when you two started dating, it was a given wonwoo would be obsessed with the way the jewelry would look on your skin, the pretty piece of accessory making you shine even more. his first gift to you was a piece of jewelry too and he sighed in relief when you jumped to give him a hug. it was with a big smile that wonwoo helped you put the accessory on. for wonwoo, you wearing the jewelry he’s gifted you is one of the greatest things in the world and he often stares at where the jewelry is, sometimes adjusting it when it’s not in place and sometimes just holding the little piece in his hand, always giving you a kiss close to where it is. and sometimes when he’s been staring at the accessory too long, his hand absentmindedly slips between the jewelry and your skin, playing with it between his fingers, a lovesick grin on his face at the feeling of your skin.

☆ warms up the towels before you shower after a long day

you and wonwoo started talking in the middle of the summer and officially started dating when winter was at its peak. wonwoo would often joke about how the winter helped you two get together and you laughed along every time, but sometimes you do in fact thank the coldest season for having played a big part in your relationship. it all started when the two of you got snowed in at his apartment after having been soaked by the snow a few hours prior. so when you finally arrived at his home, legs jelly from having sprinted, taking a shower was the first thing on your mind. and wonwoo let you go first, picking out some clothes of his you could wear, preparing some hot beverage for you and heating up your towel so that when you’re done, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all. it’s something that made you fall even more in love with wonwoo and you thanked him with a kiss, officializing the relationship. From that moment on, whenever you came back to your shared apartment after a long day, wonwoo would prepare everything after you slipped in the shower or bath, throwing your towel in the damper for a few minutes before helping you dry off when you were done.

perm. taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse

svt bf habits taglist: @baldi-2 @soov @ggyulicious @enhacolor @shuabby1994 @mariecoura @rosellerinfrost @jaemicr @just-here-to-read-01 @inmynewwrld @bigbossbennett @pearlygraysky

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jeon wonwoo #seventeen jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo headcannons #seventeen wonwoo headcanons #seventeen wonwoo imagines #svt wonwoo #svt jeon wonwoo #svt jeon wonwoo x reader #svt wonwoo x reader #svt x reader #svt headcanons #svt imagines #wonwoo x reader #! music articles .. 💿

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 4: something to look forward to

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: You and Edith make significant progress on your mission to put Lucille behind bars; Thomas makes a confession before you go to sleep

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: ghosts; a lil bit of steam [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are married; more pining; simp Thomas

The ink had dried enough on the final document you were working on duplicating for tonight that you could group them together and place the original papers back in Lucille's hiding place. Tomorrow morning if ever she were to check on them, she would be none the wiser of what had been transpiring over the last two weeks. You repeatedly clenched and unclenched your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them after writing with barely a pause for break over the last few hours.

"Tomorrow we'll be done with all the documents," you whispered into the silence, feeling Edith's presence nearby as you made your way to Thomas' workshop. "I'll need you to show me where the phonograph cylinders are hidden, and if you know which one has Lucille's demented confession…"

"I'll show you the way," she confirmed. "And I'll make sure that none of the more…how do I put this…bloodthirsty spirits don't touch you. They tend to be a bit overly protective of their turf."

"The what?" You froze in place at her mention of bloodthirsty spirits. You had enough of a fright when you'd first "met" her and Enola, you might not survive encountering their less agreeable companions. The feel of someone nudging you from behind had you moving down the corridor again.

"Don't you worry about them, Y/N. I'll do my part to keep them away, explain to them that you're our friend, and you'll put an end to Lucille's lifelong murder spree. It might take time for them to fully understand, but they will."

Once you crossed the threshold to Thomas' workshop, you heard the exaggerated groan that belonged to your fleeting husband. Checking the candle in your hand, there was only about a thumb's worth left.

"Right on schedule," Edith remarked before you felt a nudging sensation on your shoulder. "You know he must really care for you if he's willing to endure being with her for the sake of your safety. Before she made him go back out into the city to find a new wife--well, a new victim, he looked gaunt. Almost like he found his life grotesque. Then he came back here with you and…there was color in his face again. Like he's allowed himself to live while he wooed and married you. There's a happiness in him when he's with you that I only ever saw glimpses of back when I was--"

Her words fell dead, but you had a feeling you knew what the sentiment was. Back when I was alive. Back when I was his wife.

"Why Miss Edith Cushing, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were playing matchmaker with your ex-husband and his current charlatan of a wife," you mumbled, trying not to look to deeply into her words, her testimony of Thomas' time before you. You were already having enough trouble keeping your affections for him at bay whenever he engaged in your routine of a kiss to cap off the night, marking yet another rung on the progression ladder. Lucille's incarceration becoming ever closer.

You decided to hide the duplicated papers in between the pages of his sketchbook, thinking the chances were slim that Lucille would look into them since he only kept concept art of the toys he wished to work on within it. Flipping through the pages to evenly distribute the additional papers, you found a set of sketches that had absolutely nothing to do with toy designs.

The last few pages that he'd worked on in the journal were filled with sketches of you. Some depicted you asleep, others as if the image he had in mind was of you next to him at the dining table. And a full page that showed the bedroom you shared with the baronet, you perched on the edge, a light wash of orange painted on the page, like the scene was illuminated by firelight.

That was the day you arrived at Allerdale Hall. The fleeting moments of desirous bliss you had before reality came crashing down on you.

"You say this marriage is all an act for you both now, but it doesn't look that way. Not from where I'm standing…well, floating." Both of you shared a chuckle before she posed a question at you. "Y/N something I noticed at night when he makes his way back to you…there's an excitement in him, as if he can't move fast enough."

"I--I didn't know about that part," you answered her in hushed tones as you made your way to your shared bedroom, maneuvering the barely moonlit halls with what little candlelight remained. "I usually try not to look at him before we sleep. I fail, of course, but I make the effort. Granting his request for a kiss after he washes the night off of him was already a miscalculation on my part--"

"Completely understandable miscalculation," she quipped, managing to quietly open the bedroom door wide open. "Far too handsome for me to even think of knowing any better back then."

"My thoughts exactly," you mumbled, stepping into the bedroom and disposing of the used candlewax before stretching and allowing yourself to relax from the night's clandestine activities. "Goodnight, Edith."

"I'll talk to the spirits inhabiting the corridor where the cylinders are hidden," she offered, a faint whispering joining her once again before you heard her echoing chuckle. "It seems your husband's rushing to make his way to you. You still have quite the night ahead. Goodnight, my friend."

You could feel the fatigue setting in as you let the tub fill for Thomas' bath before putting away your tools and your blades, mentally preparing yourself for another night of insufficient sleep. Just as you had for the better part of the last two weeks.

Right as you made your way back to your side of the bed and shook your hair loose from your bun, Thomas walked through the open door. You gave him a small smile. "I should be done with the documents tomorrow, Edith and I will work on transcribing the recording cylinders that can lead the case more to Lucille than you two days from now at the latest."

"That's wonderful news, darling," he beamed at you, running his gaze over you briefly before walking toward the bathroom. "I shall see you in a few moments," he told you, his voice echoing across the tiles. A few seconds later the sound of the water sloshing and a sinfully satisfied groan filled the room as he sat into the tub. "You truly are a godsend, my wife. Thank you."

You did your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach hearing him call you that. You wouldn't hear it for much longer with the progress you were making. "You're welcome," you answered back, fighting back your own sounds of relief once your back hit the bed and you allowed yourself to finally relax for the night.

The cumulative efforts of the last dozen or so days seem to have finally taken its toll on you, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. You hadn't been able to hear the sound of Thomas padding his feet on the floor and back to you, or his little gasp as he saw you in your slumbering state.

"No…" he sighed, climbing into bed with you. "Y/N, darling, please tell me you haven't completely fallen asleep yet," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You leaned in to his touch, feeling a strange sense of comfort when your cheek rubbed against his slightly calloused hand. "'M awake…" you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. He gave you a tender smile when your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but return it.

It was only in these moments just before you both went to sleep, your parts in this perilous operation done for the night, that you could allow yourself to almost feel as if you were a normal married couple. Just laying in bed together before going to sleep, sharing a quick goodnight kiss before he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

Perhaps even indulge yourself, even for a moment, in the dangerous truth that once this was all over, you would miss these fleeting moments of peace with him. You'd miss how he held you through the night and how you'd wake up wrapped in his arms. How in the last few days he would greet you in the morning with a soft kiss to your nose before you both made your way out of bed and stepped out of your room.

You would miss him when all this was over. When you'd both signed the divorce papers and went on your separate ways, and you were back in your apartment in the city, going to bed alone, you would miss him.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a small sound coming from the back of his throat as he sighed into the kiss, almost as if he was relieved. "This is the only thing getting me through the nights," he said solemnly, settling more comfortably into the bed as he kept kissing you. "Knowing that this was what awaited me when I get back."

Instead of your usual night routine of a few kisses and he would pull you into his arms, both of you falling asleep to the sound of the other's breath evening out, he moved his body closer, kissing his way to your neck, his hand traveling down the side of your body until it settled at your waist. His lips began to trace along the neckline of your nightgown, the contented hums against your skin combined with the feel of his lips on you had you struggling for breath. "Thomas--"

"It should be you," he whimpered, his exhales warming your skin. "I should be spending my night with you. Laying with you." He kept on kissing along your neckline, his other hand pulling along the string that exposed your décolletage and he immediately pressed his lips to your chest, above your heart. "You're my wife, I should be with you."

He kissed his way back to your lips, your shock from his confession letting his tongue slip past your lips and tangle with your own. It was like flames licked all along your body at the contact, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingers weaved into his onyx curls.

"Thomas, wait--" you tried to say, placing your hands on his chest in a paltry attempt to get him to pause for a moment, failing to fight against your eyes fluttering closed and your entire body melting under him the moment his tongue delicately ran along the roof of your mouth.

"I want to lay with you," he said once he pulled away, looking at you with those wide pleading eyes that likened him to a pup asking for a treat. "May I?"

For the love of all things good in this world say yes, you hissed at yourself. You struggled to breathe properly, fighting against every instinct to give in as he repeatedly whispered "please" into your skin. Trying to not let the curiosity and desire consume you and see how far your husband was willing to go.

This was the fantasy you wanted to lose yourself in, where by some miracle when all this was over and you both made it out alive, that you'd found something with each other that neither of you wanted to lose. That after all this perhaps you could have a life together, preferably far away from Allerdale Hall and the figurative and literal ghosts that roam the corridors.

The fantasy that perhaps when you were both safe from Lucille and she was serving her time behind bars, locked away where she couldn't harm anyone anymore, that Thomas might not want to sign the divorce papers. Because maybe he was falling in love, too.

"We've come so far already, we can't afford to lose focus now," you answered him, your voice coming out so small it was like the words all but refused to get through the lump in your throat. "Once all this is done, and we're free of her, you'll be free to do whatever you please…with whomever you please."

The last part left a bitter taste in your mouth, like it physically pained you to say the words.

"You're right," he sighed, leaning away enough so that he could look at you. The expression on his face was akin to that of a wounded pup, making the guilt and regret from your decision overwhelm your system. "Of course." He moved over to his side of the bed, taking a breath before hesitantly touching his fingers to yours. "May I still hold you?"

You didn't think twice, moving over to him and settling into his arms. "Yes, of course." The words refused to be spoken, but you'd found a strange comfort in his embrace. That despite the very real danger you both found yourselves in, and the looming dire consequences of Lucille and the business end of her cleaver if you made so much as one misstep on this perilous endeavor of yours, you felt almost a safety in his warm embrace.

And while no one would ever be able to get you to admit it, it made getting up out of bed in the mornings near impossible. You didn't want to leave him. You wanted him all to yourself.

All the more reason why you needed to be done with this and go your separate ways. You should never be so selfish as to beg him to stay with you and deny him yet another freedom. So much had already been stolen from him.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face before asking softly, "How long do you reckon before Scotland Yard comes here after you send the papers?"

"Not long," you answered him, your words full of confidence in your peers. "I'll include a summary of my findings to help them through the papers I've sent them, process them faster. I'll also try and emphasize the urgency of our situation, that we're currently living in a manor with a woman that has the intention and means, not to mention the stomach, to kill me. That we have very good reason to believe our lives are in imminent danger. Should get them moving pretty quick."

"And what are we to do until they arrive?" You could feel him tensing as he anticipated your response.

Bile flooded your stomach from what you had to tell him. "We keep routine." His beautiful face looked so pained as you said the words. "She has to believe that there's nothing wrong, that everything's going to plan. If she gets even the slightest whiff that we're up to something and she kills me. Maybe even you if she finds out that you helped."

He took a shuddering breath, pulling you closer against him so he could press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's hope they move quickly then," he mumbled against you, pressing more kisses on the same spot as he took calming breaths. "I can barely stomach any more of it." His breath hitched at his words, his tone rife with shame.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his pulse sprinting like a madman. "This burden shouldn't be on you. Never should have been. She's stolen so much from you…" Your sentiment caught in the back of your throat as you did your damnedest to fight back tears. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't steal any more of your life away."

"What if she figures out what we've been up to? Or if she gets impatient and realizes there's no money coming after all this time?"

It took you a moment before you could answer, the implication hanging over you both now like the Sword of Damocles. "Then Scotland Yard will arrive here to a corpse. Either mine or hers."

Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I won't let her hurt you, I swear it." He stole a few more kisses from you before he cradled your head against his chest. "You should sleep, I can feel how tired you are."

"Exhausted," you confessed, settling into his embrace, the comfort from his hold blanketing over you as your cheek rubbed against the soft hairs on his chest. "Goodnight, husband."

You couldn't resist calling him that. In a few short weeks you'd never be able to again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, stroking your hair before he whispered, "Goodnight, my darling wife."

As the minutes passed, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were your breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, Thomas found himself unable to succumb to sleep just yet. He was still riddled with so many questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask you quite yet.

What if by some freak accident of a chance, Lucille comes across one of your colleagues when she runs her errands in the city and they were to mention who you were, and what you did before you married him? What if now that she was armed with this new information, she deemed you too much of a threat and decided to do away with you like she'd done with so many other innocent women?

What if she decided to make it even worse, and ordered him to kill you instead? Spout some nonsensical notion that he needed to get his hands dirty this time around so she could see if he still had the stomach for it?

He knew he wouldn't be able to hurt you, that he would be completely unwilling to. But would he be able to protect you against Lucille?

And the question that had him looking upon the coming weeks with a mix of dread and hope, all depending on how you would react if he were to even muster up the courage to say the words: What if you stayed together after this fleeting partnership of yours? What if you were open to exploring what a life together would truly be like? Move away from Allerdale Hall and find a place in the city?

"What if I begged you not to leave me?" he whispered into the empty silence, stroking the backs of his fingers along your cheek. "What if I've fallen in love with my wife, and I want to turn our marriage into something real?"

A/N: *popping out my head from my writing hidey hole* Well hi there! Been a long while since I updated this story, but I can promise you now…I didn't abandon it 🫡 And we're picking up with our precious meow meow baronet big tiddy goth husband really showing his hand here that he's catching feelings 🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

#thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe x female reader #crimson peak fanfic #crimson peak fanfiction #the final lady sharpe #muddyorbs writes #fic requests #500 follower celebration

[prof-ramses]

Hollow Sorrows Trailer Breakdown LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

Obviously, if you don't want spoilers, scroll away. If you've already seen the trailer, LET'S GO!!!

So when we first see possessed Patty, she looks mostly normal, you can't even see her demon teeth through the mask yet. John and Jack probably only came in since they heard a scream and/or struggle coming from the morgue.

So we get a shot of the boys being too chaotic, something Gregor points out and what will likely cause the "bad character development" Pelo ahs mentioned.

Also, since it's 100% what Pelo would do, Costume Bob is the guy in the HF suit. Mark my words.

The scene with the hatz is really interesting to me, since Skid and Pump just annoys Roy for a moment and leave. I think this might be all we get of the hatzgang this time, similar to how Frank only had a brief Appearance in Tender Treats. If my theory that episode 7 will focus on Roy is true, this little scene will be very interesting to dissect when the full episode drops.

We actually get out first proper glimpse at a new character and I think this old man is the very last character in the line up teaser

And there's also a pretty good chance he Roy's grandfather and given the way he reacts to the boys antics here, I can definitely see him being a another reasons Roy's the way he is.

If he actually is Roy's grandpa, then @crossover-enthusiast and I's Roy discussions are going to get really fun pretty soon.

Here, Skid is clearly holding a framed photo, meaning this will almost certainly be the first time his father is brought up directly.

Also, yeah, with Pump's line about "hangover spooky month", it seems my theory about Lila in this episode was at least half right.

Yet more proof that the boys' absent parents will be more of a focus. The trailer as a whole gives me some ideas regarding the Wonder parents, but I feel they're best saved for another time.

The boys get into trouble with the cops and I have 2 theories regarding when, either Gregor tries to get them sent home before going to the hospital, but they talk their way out of it, or they actually do get sent home at the end of the episode.

John's expression here immediately makes we think that something Skid or Pump said reminded him of his daughter. Another plot thread that has yet to be directly acknowledged.

Ignacio watches Gregor lead the boys away, maybe he lives down the street from Skid and Lila to keep an eye on them for the cult?

Either way, I'm surprised his appearance won't take place in the hospital as I previously predicted.

"I will be your guide. And I know your parents would be proud of you."

There's something undeniably sinister about this line, but how sinister hinges on whether Gregor is a cultist or ex-cultist. Whatever the case may be, he definitely knows more about or sees more in the boys than he lets on.

A great title card, and thought the blood everywhere is definitely concerning, I don't think there's anything to really say here, just wanted to get a screenshot of it.

And it would appear the character I've referred to as the cat lady will have the unenviable role of a hapless victim to the episode's villain. But honestly, I'm more surprised by her being at the hospital in the first place and why that never occurred to me before.

The actual progression of Patty's possession confirms to she's possessed by something other than Moloch. And what seals it for me is, fittingly, the eyes. The white of her eyes becomes a more vivid yellow, yet her pupil snot only don't form Moloch's typical spirals, but they're a more vivid shade of baby blue, a color that has never had any significance in the series before. Moloch will mostly be trapped in Dexter before eventually possessing Gregor, I will die on this hill.

AND THE FUGGIN' RELEASE DATE!!!

Alright, that's all, only a month now. We're so back!

#spooky month #spooky month 6 #spooky month theory #spooky month prediction #sm Patty #sm Skid #sm Pump #sm Gregor #sm Father Gregor #sm Costume Bob #sm Happy Fella #sm hatzgang #hatzgang #sm Roy #sm Ross #sm Robert #sm Mayor Evermore #sm Lila #sm Mr. Wonder #sm Skid'dad #sm Skidad #sm Pump's dad #sm Pump's mom #sm John #sm Jack #sm Ignacio #sm Moloch #sm theory #sm prediction

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Soul tied

Hi my babies! New series i am writing and i hope you guys like it i’m super excited to see what you guys think!!

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

Word count: 1,760

————————————————————————

New assignments were constantly draining. Your job was just draining.

Working for the government was never easy and being as young as you are in your field, your work was always downplayed.

Though you always stayed up late doing paperwork, your messy apartment constantly smelled of coffee. You were always waiting for a new assignment but they never gave you anything. You worked your ass off to prove you’re not just some rookie, years and years of training and physical torture but they refuse to send you anywhere.

You were called to Raccoon City during the aftermath, the mask clinging to your face as you glanced across the literal ash that used to be a big corporate ran city. Having to sign off and confirm death reports put you in the biggest depression of your life but you couldn’t argue, it was your job.

The so called victims of it all worked for separate agencies, having to sign off on their paperwork and confirm they were alive wasn’t easy. Jill Valentine went missing for a while, not by choice but she definitely was ridden by trauma and you couldn’t blame the woman. The second day you came by to check on her she had a note posted on the door

“Alive and well, thanks. -J.V”

And that was enough for you. The one person you couldn’t get a hold of.. Leon Kennedy. Calling everybody you could nobody knew where the boy was. You put the phone back down onto your desk, sighing as you looked at his paperwork, he looked young, with puppy dog eyes and scrapes all over. Where could he have run off to? When it was time to turn in everybody’s paperwork, you had put a bunch of them in separate files but of course, Leons was empty and your boss was not happy but what were you supposed to do? Your boss clicked at his pen a few times before he nodded and sighed

“Right.. he’s training”

He mumbled as he scribbled out Leon’s name on his paper, your eyebrows frowned as you laid the papers down. You may have been nosy but oh well, you cleared your throat, his eyes fixating up to you.

“Training for what?”

Your training took you almost four years. Directly out of high school and even getting into the program alone was another year. It made you feel like you were in the wrong profession. Your dad was a cop, your mom a teacher. So by birth you were set up for two jobs, either working for the police department under your fathers legacy or teaching and you were never the smartest in the family and your mom knew that.

When your parents found out you got a job in the government they were more than happy, how could they not be? They didn't know exact details such as you being employed for the DSO, or how you have seen bodies of things you can’t even describe. You were under oath, and you worked your ass off for them.

“Mission training.”

“What?”

You’re kidding.

“He’s new to the agency and he was already assigned a mission that’s not fair-“

“Are we done here? You don’t get to ask questions for now, you're just an assistant.”

The words that shouldn’t have hurt you as badly as they did. It didn’t matter though, maybe he was right.

All the paperwork you stayed up doing for Raccoon City, when you should’ve been sleeping. The heavy bags under your eyes, the tears, the stress and you thought it would never end, and it didn’t.

—————————————————————-

To many years later.

The sound of your air conditioner turning on made your head rise from your pillow. You don’t even remember falling asleep. Your apartment was a mess as it usually was, paperwork scattered all over your desk and your bed barely made.

A yawn leaves your lips as you stretch, rubbing your eyes. Your feet come up off the floor when your skin realizes just how cold the wood tiles are. The rain hits your window making your eyes fixated on the dark window. What time was it?

Your finger presses at your answering machine, 25 missed calls?

“Call me back, where are you?”

“Call me when you can”

“Fuck..”

You mumbled, grabbing your phone off your desk, quickly dialing your work office number. Being immediately transferred made your heart race faster, your boss’ sigh making you bite at your nails.

“You want an assignment so bad? I got one for you, but you can’t bitch to me about it in five months.”

Your eyebrows frowned as a slight smile tugged at your lips, an assignment for you? The line was silent for a few seconds before your voice filled the void.

“Anything.”

—————————————————————

Anything.

You wish you could go back in time and just go back to sleep.

Instead you stood in the doorway of your boss’ office, arms crossing as you stared at the back of the head of some dirty blonde man in a black long sleeve.

A scoff left your lips as you pulled out the chair beside him, sitting down next to the man. Who you have never met in person but god, did he have a reputation.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

The president's lap dog, who has gotten many more assignments than you have even if you’ve been here much longer than him.

Having to sign his reports from his mission in Spain. How the press praised him and his capability to save Ashley Graham. What a joke, as if he did it by himself. Ada Wong's mystery file always lays so perfectly on your desk. Though you did feel for Kennedy, the virus he contracted and what it did to him and his body. Ashley’s testimony made your heart ache because somebody as innocent as her didn’t need to see such things. She said Leon somehow fought his way through it, and so did she.

You didn’t even notice Leon’s gaze, his head tilted down slightly so he could look at your unamused expression. Seeming bitchy was the least of your intentions genuinely, your lips in a thin line as you blinked at your boss who of course had the biggest smile on his face.

“You wanted an assignment? I gave you one.”

His fingers pressed against the paper in front of you and Leon, sliding it closer to the two of you as you glanced down at the picture of Leon shortly after he came back from Spain.. Though healed, the thick black veins ran up his chest and neck.

Leon shifted uncomfortably, his neck cranking to the side. You know so much about the man and you’ve never heard him speak.

“What does this have to do with anything”

His voice was.. gravely almost. Guilt dipping in your chest due to the fact that you had judged him so deeply.

“A group knows information regarding the virus. A group in New York. Kennedy and you will be escorted. We want information.”

Thankfully Leon was as confused as you were, your eyes finally meeting. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes barely hiding the fact that his hair was messy. He was probably so done with all of this.. your head started to fill with thoughts of his Raccoon City file. Your boss words we’re being blurred by your thoughts, your vision coming back into focus.

“Husband and wife”

“What?”

The words leave your lips in a laugh almost, your eyes darting back up to your boss as you scoffed.

“Sorry, I didn’t go through years of training to play house.”

Maybe this was your sign that you weren’t ready for a mission, a commitment so big, your eyes looking down into your lap as he went over the details. A ringing in your ears as you swallowed the lump in your throat, maybe Leon was just more capable. He was stronger, smarter, he obviously had more experience.

The door slamming behind you made you flinch, your attention back to the paperwork in front of you. The sound of Leon scribbling away on the paper filling the room as your shaking hand reached for a pen on the desk.

—————————————————————-

“Here.”

Your head was turned away from the man, staring out the plane window as he sat across from you. The two of you barely spoke, the car ride here and everything. Your eyes ran over his frame before you saw the ring in his hand. The whole situation made you uncomfortable, you’ve never met Leon and now you had to pretend to be his wife. You leaned forward grabbing the ring before slipping it in your finger, your legs crossing again as your eyes shot down to his left hand to see the silver band on his finger as well.

So you were really doing this? Your mission was simple. Get the sample. The facility you’re being transferred to was under the impression that you and Leon were ex umbrella scientists. The two of you have been married since you were twenty. The plan has to be flawed, you had no chemistry.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t handsome though. It honestly left you shocked that he had grown so much from Raccoon city, it’s like he had a second puberty almost. He must’ve seen you staring, his head turning to you causing you to look down at the ring on your finger, nervously fiddling with it as Leon cleared his throat.

“Don’t be nervous, people can tell when another person is scared.”

Leon spoke as you let your shoulders loosen, cracking your knuckles as the soft chiming of the plane getting ready to land rang through your ears. You two did look expensive, Leon dressed in a black suit, his hands pushing forward a bit so he can adjust the cuffs on his wrist as he stood up from his seat. His hand extends out to you, his jaw tightening as the sigh leaves your lips and you stand holding at his arm. You both made sure your rings were on display, your fingers carefully holding at his upper arm as the two of you stood in front of the opening door.

This was going to be more than difficult. Especially with Kennedy.

#yourgentlegf #milascreams #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #chris redfield #jill valentine #leon kennedy fluff #re4 #re4 x reader #re4 remake leon #leon kennedy angst #x reader #re2 x reader

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Coerce - Yan! Kaeya x fem! Reader

Yandere! Kaeya x fem! Reader

Part 2 of the “Baby Trapping” Series

Warnings: General yandere themes, toxic relationships, heavy religious themes, mention of corrupted organizations (The church), emotional manipulation, slight victim blaming, black mail, coerce, implied physical violence, possessive and obsessive thoughts and behaviors, implied controlling behavior, implied codependency (both parties), dehumanizing reader, injury, mention of blood, wanting to punch Kaeya in the face for this one, and inaccurate religious customs/tellings.

Not sfw warnings: d00gy style, vaginal fingEring, mention of loss of virginity, one slap on the ass, teasing, cumming inside without permission, dub-c0n/non-c0n, use of pet name (Sweetheart and probably sweetie I forgot), coerce into doing the act itself, hint of corruption kInk, baby trapping.

Please tell me if I missed any warnings that are needed.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT condone any of the harmful and toxic behaviors and thoughts that may take place in this piece of FICTION. None of this should be romanticize or even considered normal as it is extremely toxic and dangerous. If you find yourself in such a situation, please seek help if able to.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

WARNING: DUE TO TUMBLR’S SHITTY TAGGING SYSTEM, NOT EVERY TRIGGER WARNING WILL BE TAGGED, SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS THAT ARE ABOVE. THANK YOU.

MINORS AND AGLESS/BLANK BOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. THANK YOU.

Wordcount: 4840k

Unedited

==

 Kaeya thinks of you as a pet. As cruel and inhumane it is, he can’t help but to think of you as one. A relationship was never confirmed, yet you still wait for him like a loyal dog. Tail wagging whenever you saw his face, heard his voice as he talks to others. He likes to make you chase after him, your attempts to make him notice you cute.

And, of course, he does reward you, at times. He gives you attention if you’ve been especially good, following his unsaid orders. Pets your head in private, praises disguising the insults he’s casually throwing your way. Nothing serious, it’s just cute, the way you take him at face value. Too scared to face the reality that awaits you.

And he loves it. He’s sadist at heart, despite being as lonely as a winter tree, bare of any of its leaves. And that’s something he’ll never admit, not to you, not to himself, not to anyone. And maybe, he thinks, that’s why he keeps you around. You follow him around like a lost puppy no matter what, even when he leaves you waiting at the Anemo Archon’s statue two hours after the meeting time. You always wait for him, no matter the time.

Unless work comes into play, then you avoid him like the plague. It slightly annoys him and has implied you should focus more on him towards the end of the week, but he never forced you to. He’s a busy man himself, his job is demanding, so he understands why you would put your work before him. You can’t live off him.

Even so, you’ve been acting… different, as of late. You didn’t bother to say hi to him as you pass by, instead rushing past him. Like you didn’t want to see him, even. Okay, sure, your affection for him has slowly, but surely, started to dwindle for the past few weeks.

Turning him down gently whenever he asked you out, avoid running into him on the streets, stopped going to Angel’s Share almost completely, only visiting the Tavern when you know he’s on patrol duty. You have his schedule down to a T, and from the looks of it, you keep changing yours. Like you didn’t want him to contact you, fading away like a ghost.

Like you wanted to become a ghost of his past, and he yours.

He could feel it; you’re slowly untangling yourself from his web of lies, starting to look under that flirty exterior and see the liar he is, how shallow he can be. But you don’t have the courage to leave him, he thinks. Ah, but that’s the problem – he thinks. He doesn’t know anymore, your actions and behavior slapping him in the face. The whiplash is something he didn’t expect.

And it stings more than he’d like to admit.

But no matter, a few sweet lies here and there, and you’ll be back to normal in no time. Bringing him lunch on your break, waiting him to get off of work if you didn’t have a shift or managed to get off early. Waiting for him like the loyal dog you are, at his beck and call.

You’re supposed to be obedient. Docile and demure, never leaving his side. He’ll be bored otherwise, yes. He has – should have – you under his thumb. You told him yourself that you can’t live without him.

God, his mind is everywhere right now. He’s torn between acting indifferent and confronting you. But that’s not like him. He’s not the type to ‘beg’ nor is he the type to talk it out. You were supposed to be a means to pass the time. He had planned to (eventually) let you, be it through heart break or directing your affections and attentions to another man.

Thinking about that now leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. Salt, it tastes like pure salt, a thirst so strong he almost can’t contain it. This isn’t like him. He’s slowly falling apart the more you avoid him. How long has it been? Weeks? A month?

A month too long. His value as a person is low, he knows that. And deep inside, he’s aware he’s kept you around so much because he was unknowingly desperate for validation deep inside. He’s both aware and in denial about needing you by his side, lest he crumbles into dust. You’re both a curse and a blessing.

And he hates himself for feeling this way.

He’s possessive of you, extremely so. He’s aware of that, he keeps up with the façade of being a nice guy just to keep you around. No matter how he treats you, in the end, Kaeya is nothing more than a twisted, horrible man in ‘love’.

Which is why he has you on you cornered against one of the benches in the church, ready to taint you a dirty black. Did you think you could escape him so easily? No, did you think you could escape him at all? How naïve of you. But it’s cute – you’re cute – so he’ll forgive you.

“Hey there sweetheart… long time no see. How long has it been? A month?” He smiles ever so sweetly, but there’s bitterness seeping through. He doesn’t like the way you stare at him in worry. Worry for your well-being.

“Ka… Kaeya? What are you doing here?” You shift in your seat, eyes looking at the small space between his arms against the back rest and the wooden seat. You’re thinking of escaping. He can’t have that, now, can he?

“A little birdy told me you spend your time here now. I just wanted to check up on you, you know? Can’t blame me for wanting to see my favorite person, can you?” He answers while tightening his grip on the wood, waiting. Will you make a move?

Or will you succumb to him and behave like a good girl?

“’Favorite person’… yet you barely, ever showed up on time? The math doesn’t add up, make it make sense, Kaeya.” Oh, you have a bite now. A mistake – it only makes him want to tame you.

Your fingers are clenched in front of your chest, as if in payer. “Since when did you become religious?” He stares down at you, hating how you didn’t bother to meet his eyes. You just stared at his chest, there but not really seeing it. Not really seeing him.

Had he really become a ghost of your past?

“Since I gave up on you.”

Ouch. Okay, that hurt, it stung, and he really wants to shut your mouth, preferably with his. Your neck looks so easy to strangle. Should he do just that?

Enough to make you gasp, not enough to injure you.

“Oh? That’s a bit hard to believe, sweet cheeks. Just a month ago, you couldn’t go a day without seeing me. What made you change your mind?” He doesn’t budge when your hands unclench, landing on his chest, pushing him away. He’d rather you pull him closer.

You let out a sigh, clearly done with him and his antics. He wants to say you’re overreacting, but that’s hard to say when he’s aware of his own actions.

“Well, for one, please move aside. It’s uncomfortable,” your eyes shut close and brows furrow. Your patience with him is finally about to snap. How adorable.

“You’re a sweet talker, purposely flirting with other women to get a rise out of me. You never show up time when you ask me out, and sometimes you didn’t even come. You’ll shower me in gifts during the day, only to insult me with sugarcoated words, thinking I wouldn’t notice. You love to make me suffer, to drag me along a leash like I’m a dog.”

Kaeya listens, not once interrupting you. The way your voice gets higher, and tears form in your eyes makes him want to gag you on his cock. The thought unsettles even him.

“And not once did you clearly say what our ‘relationship’ was, even when I questioned you about it,” you finish off, harshly wiping away a stray tear with the heel of your hand.

Everything stays quiet, as he processes your words, your actions. You’re not wrong, and the rational part of his mind doesn’t blame you. Can’t blame you. But his pride and yearning come first. How hard can he make you cry? How hard can he make you regret leaving him?

“I see… such a shame, then. I apologize for making you feel such a way,” he smiles, gently removing one of his hands from the backrest, choosing to softly caressing your cheek. His thumb rubs under your eye, effectively ridding of the tear sliding down, unconsciously leaning into his touch.

He likes you this way.

Docile. Obedient.

Shyly, you look downwards. A soft sigh before you push against him harder, and this time, he takes a step back, hand leaving your cheek. “You’re apologizing for making feel bad when you should be apologizing for acting shitty.” And the bite comes back.

You pause before adding on, “And besides… I’m in training to become a nun, in case you didn’t notice my attire. Or did you think I was cosplaying?”

Yes, he thought you were cosplaying. No, he won’t admit he feels like an idiot now.

“A nun huh… a surprise sudden career change.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Is it a question worth answering?”

You can’t help the way you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand. He finally made you irritated. And then, a smirk stretches on his lips.

“I didn’t realize non-virgins could completely serve gods.” The way your eyes widen and how you jerk your head up to look him has him smiling. He’s a shitty person for bringing that up*.

“What a rude thing to say! And besides… we both know there’s currently a married woman with a child who became a nun.” You balk at him, clearly uncertain about your situation now.

He had taken your virginity a year ago, back when you were still in the honeymoon phase. You had sex a total of three times between that period and now. And each time, you declared your love for him. Can the church accept such a sinner?

Perhaps the Archons could and would, but the church is different story. It’s rather fickle, picky with who it takes into its arm and who it shuns within the shadows. Corruption and religion go hand in hand, you can’t deny that. You could only ignore it.

“I suppose your right…,” he leans in closer, one hand grasping the backrest again, mouth next to your ear. His hot breath makes you shiver. “But whose to say they’ll accept you as well? You know just how picky they can get… would be a shame if someone were to…,” his teeth nibble your ear, eliciting a small gasp from you, “tell them.”

He pulls back a bit, able to look you in the eyes. The horror and resentment in your eyes both amuse and hurt him. So, you really have grown tired of him, have you? Such a shame he hasn’t grown tired of you. And he’s not sure if he ever will.

“… you really are a horrible man,” nothing but bitterness lies within your words. You don’t even bother to hide it, instead wanting him to know how deep your distain runs for him. “Why are you bothering me so? Have you not grown tired me, despite always throwing me to the side? I was never your priority so I don’t know why you’re so intent on making my life a living hell with just your mere presence alone.”

“You’re nothing more than a depraved man seeking salvation that will never come. *”

Something snaps. His hand hurts and feels wet. A warm liquid, a horrified squeal, he’s not sure what the fuck happened. Whether he’s finally become mad, or if he’s finally became the fallen empire that crumbled away with only sinners left.

He needs to get a hold of himself. He’s not too fond of physically violence despite his job, nor does he want to be seen as a mindless caveman. So, he takes a step back, taking a deep breath and out. And he’s back to normal.

You don’t say anything, probably can’t, and only realizes why when he looks where your eyes are glued to; the bench has been snapped, the backseat covered in broken wood. He looks at his hand. Wood shards poking out of his gloved hands, blood seeping through, running down his wrist. He’s gone too far he can’t deny that.

He glances at you, only to find your eyes wide and mouth opened into a small ‘o’. You’re trembling slightly, and he wants to make you tremble more. Tremble, moan, cry, wants to make you smile, laugh, tend to his wound. He wants it all, he wants none of it, he wants to hug you, he wants to strangle you for saying such things. He needs to teach you a lesson.

“Ka… Kaeya… what the fuck…,” you finally look at him, hands coming up to cover your mouth. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t smile, just stares into the void that is you. “A… are you okay? In the head?”

Perhaps it was second nature by now, but you gently grab his hand, inspecting it like a rare specimen. It feels warm. It feels right.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that… although… I do think we need to come up with a story.” He smiles coldly at you, flexing his hand hard enough to push the wood in deeper. It stings, it hurts, but he needs a grounding or else he might hurt you.

“We…? There is no ‘we’, just ‘you’.” You don’t look at him, but his hand is still in his grasp as you pry it opened. He lets you, only if to remember the vibrant past. “… you need to leave,” you let go and attempt to leave.

His words alone stop you before you could even leave the aisle.

“Are you sure you want to leave before we finish our conversation? Ah, not only not being a virgin would give you a bad look, but to leave an injured man be… it won’t look good on your record.” A choice. Which option would you choose? To leave or to stay?

Both of you know the answer.

“… excuse me?” Ever so slowly, your head turns towards him, eyes narrowed. The hatred in your eyes burn hotter than the sun. “Why in Teyvat would you say that? Threatening me too? You’re really sick in the fucking head.”

“And yet you loved me still.”

Your chest heaves, feet dragging you to him, standing straight right in front of him. You weren’t thinking straight, your breathing was heavy. He’d rather you be that way on his cock, squirming in nothing but pleasure, squealing as he drills into you.

“’Loved’. Past tense, I no longer want anything to do with you. You’re nothing more than a parasite, and I’m tired of being your host.” Your finger jabs at his chest, hard enough to hurt you but not him. You were so weak compared to him.

He could easily turn you around and bend you over, fucking you until you were apologizing all the way to hell. The very place he’ll drag you to the moment you leave or get taken away. Count your lucky stars he’s controlling himself enough not to harm you.

“Oh my, your words are hurting me. Venom is dangerous, you know? Although, I don’t think you’d like to get frost burn. Better calm down before it gets too chilly.” His bloodied hand goes to hold your hand, the one jabbing at him.

“And besides, who do you think they would believe… a training nun who couldn’t keep her chastity until marriage, or the esteemed knight who does his duty to protect the citizens of Monstadt?” His cocky tone does nothing but to infuriate you more.

“You’re not protecting me, Kaeya.”

“Ah, but I am… think of it this way… a random drunkard, who so happened to be on the wanted list was harassing a training nun during her prayers, and the Cavalry Captain stopped him. That sounds better than a nun seducing the Cavalry Captain in the middle of the night, in the holy church, no less.”

You take a step back, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. “That… that wouldn’t explain the damage done to the bench.” The reality of the situation was finally settling in.

“Ah… I suppose that’s right. However, it could be said that the Cavalry Captain had to retrain control. It’s not uncommon to hear of, a man damaging something to keep his lust at bay.”

“That doesn’t make sense, and only serves to make you look bad!” You argue back, shaking your head. He was fucked up.

Kaeya continues, “It may make me look bad… but it’ll make you look worse.”

It was bullshit, it would absolutely make him the villain. Using violence of any type on a woman was horrible in the public eye. But you weren’t thinking straight, fear coursing through your veins like fire. And he’s using it against you.

“… What do you want?”

“Hm? Say that again? I couldn’t hear you.”

You take a breath in. “I said, what do you want? I don’t need you to ruin my life anymore than this.” Your voice cracks, and he can see the tears forming. You’re finally breaking apart. And he loves it.

“First,” He lifts his hand, still holding yours, “Tend to my wound, okay?”

--

With the wound tended to and mood shifted to a sexual tone, Kaeya has once more turned the situation to his liking. He had you bend over, hands holding onto the backseat, ass up, legs spread apart. Your dress was scrunched up to your waist, pure white panties on display for his eyes only. Like how it’s supposed to be.

Such a sinful sight for a ‘holy’ woman. A follower of a God that won’t listen to her prayers. How ironic.

“My, my… how lewd. To think a ‘pure’ nun would spread her legs for me, a lowly Cavalry Knight.” A slap to your ass that brings forth a moan. God, he missed this. The way your body reacts to him, how he studied your body from the late hours to the early rise of the sun. He knows it inside out.

“Shut up…,” your breath hitches when he grabs your hair from the roots and pulls. Your body is reacting in a manner you don’t want it to. You hate yourself for this, for giving in so easily. For not letting go sooner before his obsession and possessiveness of you started to fester.

Kaeya almost feels guilty. But not enough, not when you’re in front of him, bend over the bench like a whore, whimpering as he tugs your hair or delivers a slap to your ass. Your body is more honest than you are. He’s more honest than you are.

Prepare yourself for the years to come.

“Heh… you say you hate me, but your body loves me, right?” He leans forward, draping himself over your body, chest pressed against your back. He wonders if you can feel his heart beating. “Tell me, did you ever miss this?”

His uninjured hand travels down your front, skipping over your breasts and straight to your crotch. You shiver, biting your lip as to keep quiet. You don’t need anyone to hear from the outside, if possible. You just want to get this over with. You can’t get caught doing this here, in the church.

Slowly, his middle finger draws circles around your clothed clit, your legs trembling. You’re starting to get wet, perhaps as means to lessen the pain that might follow. The female anatomy is one he studied well, if only to tease and gloat about it to Diluc, who the Head Maid had scolded about the subject.

“Getting wet now, are we? How adorable.” He laughs, adding more pressure that makes you squeal. So sensitive, so right. He belongs here, with you, and you belong with him, no matter how toxic the relationship.

“Hey, stop – ah!” Head arched back; he loves the way you reach to his touches. You’re wet enough to slip in a finger, enough to feel the burning pleasure only he could provide. Why bother becoming a nun when you become his?

No.

You’ve always been his, be it in life or death. He’ll never let go, he can’t dare to part with his beloved pet. A pet that used to whine for attention, a pet that now growls and barks at it’s owner. Even bit him. But that’s okay. He just needs to train you some more.

And that training starts now.

“Stop? But why; your pretty little cunt is taking my finger so easily. Almost like you were waiting for this. Tell me, do you think about me when you touch yourself?” His teeth tease your earlobe, breath fanning the shell. You’re driving him crazy, your scent, your body, your scent. He’s going to drown the both of you.

“W-what? Nuns don’t… nuns don’t touch themselves…,” you breathe out, eyes closing once he starts to curl his finger. It’s sloppy inside, like it should be. Wet and soft, he can’t wait to do bareback.

“Nuns shouldn’t participate in the act of sex itself, yet here you are… and, if I recall, they are to ‘Marry God’. Or something along those lines, right? Give all your love to the Gods, the Archons, yet here you are, loving me with all of your body.”

“You blacked mailed me. Coerced me.” Same meaning, different words, no need to say them. You should be saying his name instead, like you used to. Yet, you’re not, barking at him still. What shall he do with you?

“I didn’t force you to do anything. I gave you a choice – you chose this option.” His finger thrusts in and out, in and out, you have a hard time thinking. Should you think? Should you give in to the pleasure?

Your mind says yes, your body says no.

“There, there, it’ll be fine. Just let me take care of everything, okay?” You don’t say anything, not even when he adds a second finger, curling them just right, making you squeal. Your reactions are cute, from the way you’re biting your lip to hide your moans, to the way your hips softly rock into his hand.

“Since you’re here, doing this, why don’t you just give in, hm? Might as well enjoy the ride… I know I am.” Kaeya grinds against your ass, erection straining against his (complicated. Breaking the 4th wall here cuz im going to forget otherwise, but like… does anyone know how his pants work???)pants.

Huffing, you shake your head, only to dip it when he increases his pace. A third finger and you’re fully rocking your hips into his hand, rubbing your ass against his erection. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit, head thrown back before there’s a silent scream, so close yet so far –

The whine that you let out once he takes his fingers away is unexpected. For you and him, if you smacking your forehead against the backrest of the seat is an indicator of anything. A pleasant surprise for him, an embarrassing and horrible mistake on your end. No matter, he’s sure of it.

You’re going to beg for him. You have to, unless you want to walk home in soaking wet panties.

Pride be damned, he’s going to tear down that wall you built around himself.

“Oh? Sweetheart, if you wanted more, all you had to do was ask.” His fingers trace your slit, gathering up your juices. It goes up, fingers gently going in your mouth. You can taste yourself. And you hate it, surely.

You hate him for getting under your skin and into your pants once more.

“Just say ‘please’, and I’m all yours. Oh, and of course, this’ll be kept a secret, unless it’s dire information they’ll need. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to convince them to keep you, if you really want to stay here.” You decided to play with fire the moment you laid your eyes on Kaeya Alberich.

“I… I shouldn’t, you should leave, this is fucked up –“

“But it feels so right, doesn’t it? You can still love your God with your heart even if you love me with your body… although, I’m not sure if you’ll ever be considered a nun in his eyes.” He tries his best not to laugh, not to insult you further. Because, as of right now, you’re insulting yourself.

“I… I don’t know… why are you doing this? Are you really that lonely?” Your legs shake, your voice is low, you don’t crane your neck to look at him. This was horrible, and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you wanted it or not. You can say no, right?

It’s Kaeya, right?

“Hm… maybe, maybe not. But were you that lonely to choose a husk of a man?” He hums, lips kissing your throat. He admits it, just once, that he was rather lonely. But you were also lonely, you had to be, to go after him day and night. You should have let go before it was too late. Before he latched on like a leach unknowingly, sucking you dry.

The cycle was unbreakable.

You give in, be it from fear or lust, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care – in the end, you were the one who gave him the green light. You said yes, and because you said yes, he’s going to fuck you dumb on his cock. He might die if he doesn’t, so you have to endure it. Like you used to.

---

The sounds in the church were sinful. Panting, squealing, moans, slaps of skin – it was all sinful. His hips met yours, your pussy sucking every inch of him in. It feels right, this should, needs to become the norm from now on. It doesn’t matter if you’re a nun. What matters is that you’re his.

“Ah, ah, ah! Fuck, fuck!” You don’t ask him to go faster, don’t ask him to go harder. You just let your moans out for the church to hear, like a choir. You sing him paise with each note you hit, mouth open. Kaeya takes a hand to turn your head towards him just a bit, going in for an open mouthed kiss.

There’s saliva everywhere, tongues dance as his thrusts send you forward. So close, he’s so close to having you completely. You’re so wet, so soft, and he swears he won’t do this with anyone but you – and the same goes for you, it has to. Otherwise, blood will be drawn, and a cage made. You don’t want that, do you?

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” You don’t respond, can’t with his tongue back in your mouth, silently begging for a breather. He doesn’t grant you that freedom, fingers circling your clit like a man gone mad. And, perhaps you did drive him mad. And he’s going to drive you mad, as mad as he.

“Mmh, fuck, can’t – ah – cum – “your hands grip the backrest like it’s your savior. Blunt nails digging into the wood, unable to form sentences. How long have you been at this? An hour? How many orgasms has he given you, showing you only he could do this?

Two, three?

This would be the fourth one, if that’s the case.

“Ah? Cum? Do you want to cum?” Kaeya laughs when all you do is nod your head, driven by lust by the devil himself. He gives it to, if only to drive the point home. He’s close himself, once again, so maybe he should pull out again –

An idea hits him.

He could get you pregnant. He could say it was an accident, that he did pull out but maybe it wasn’t on time. He could use a child against you, as much as he doesn’t want to use such innocence in the name of evil. He’s not sure if he’ll even be a decent father.

But he’ll try for you, promise.

For them.

Three fingers in your mouth, and he’s drilling his cock into you like a lifeline. One thrust, two thrusts, and on the fifth you’re finishing together, fingers rubbing at your clit like there’s no tomorrow. You shouldn’t have said yes, if you weren’t at least a little mentally prepare for the possibility of having a child.

Breathing is hard, heavy. Sweat clings to your bodies like a second skin melting off. You’re both spent, and –

“Don’t worry, if anything were to become of this, I’ll take care of it. Even with the church.”

 ==

A/N: *1 – I kinda did research and it looks like you have to be a virgin to become a nun. Now, I could be completely wrong, and I apologize for that.

*2- one of my favorite lines I have ever written ngl.

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated !

#yandere #tw:yandere #genshin impact #genshin #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #yandere kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact kaeya #yandere kaeya x reader #genshin smut #kaeya smut #genshin impact smut

[crystallizedday]

DISCLAIMER: THIS INFORMATION FOR THE DOAI CD AU IS OUTDATED. I WILL POST AN UPDATED VERSION EVENTUALLY

When I feel like it

& can properly flesh shit out

You’ll see it eventually.

FUCK YEAH!!

WRITING HEADCANONS FOR HORRIFYING MAN-EATING MONSTERS!! LETS GOOOOOO!!

I got this idea cause I knew I’d clutter up the og DOAI CD AU post if I just added all these goofy ahh headcanons into THAT post, so here we are.

Anyway uhhhh

Let’s go.

General shit:

• All six Veldigun go by their canon pronouns that have been confirmed in a recent Pastra stream. Clyde goes by it/its, Winfrey goes by they/them; Klaus goes by he/him, Jack goes by they/them, Simon goes by he/him, & Flock goes by it/its

• Veldiguns CAN eat actual foods, but they don’t gain anything from it. They’re void creatures, so that shit just gets obliterated from reality the moment it gets consumed. They do so just cause they enjoy the taste of whatever they eat… MOSTLY Clyde & Winfrey. The other four don’t really do that nearly as often, if at all.

• Mind consumption works like… reading through a book. You skim through it, you get a general rough idea of the entire thing, shit like that. The Veldigun don’t ever LET the minds of others warp them unless they ALLOW them to, i.e. gaining a certain impression upon skimming through the memories of a person they just consumed.

• All Veldigun actually look SO MUCH more grotesque & animalistic than they appear to humans most of the time. Their more cutesy cartoon appearance is just a result of them causing hallucinations, which is almost always unconsciously done by them.

• A Veldigun’s touch is only lethal if they WISH it to be so. It is a manual tactic that they can control, just as long as they aren’t accidentally spooked or something.

• Veldigun still sleep, just a lil less frequently than humans do. Some Veldigun definitely sleep more than others, but this is more so based on some of them choosing to continue hunting & shit instead of sleeping rather than it being for a specific biological reason.

• Yes. Clyde & Winfrey are canonically a ✨thing✨ in this AU & have been for quite a while by the time Winfrey got captured. They are very much gay & in love & you cannot stop me.

• The overall timeline for the series is a LOT more spread out than it was in the old DOAI lore. For instance…

- Clyde Lankmann, the first human Clyde the Veldigun consumed, was the man who started the Lankmann Foundation & died during the late 1800s. He wasn’t the first to die though as a “good friend” of his, William Winfrey, was tricked into walking right into one of the Veldigun’s clutches by Lankmann himself to be rid of the bothersome musician.

- Simon Lankmann died in the early 1900s after he cut ties with the Lankmann family altogether & started a family on a rather secluded farm (the whole family later being consumed by Simon the Veldigun).

-Klaus Kruger was a young man who died in the mid 1900s. The Krugers & Lankmanns were actually part of the same family tree at this point, with Klaus finding interest in the Lankmann family business. This interest led to them stumbling across Jack Walker, an incredibly impressionable boy who Klaus used as his puppet the second he laid eyes on the poor guy. The two would get up to all sorts of trouble regarding drugs & even murdering a few people, with Klaus in particular genuinely showing a sense of excitement over their wrongdoings.

- “Vincent” Lankmann is the most RECENT Lankmann to date in the timeline. He is around 50 years old when the AU takes place (aka the late 1990s) & is looking to find out how to kill a Veldigun so he can do the one thing his many predecessors before him could not: outsmart them.

Clyde:

• Clyde prefers to munch on fruits or fruit-flavored shit. Lemons are its favorite by far.

• Alternatively, Clyde HATES anything that even REMOTELY smells like garlic & onions, much like actual cats & lizards. Having them on hand won’t save a victim from Clyde, but it’ll at least force it to get crafty with catching you off guard or getting rid of that PUTRID smell first.

• It’s often seen having a rather bouncy & giddy personality, but this is because this is just what the lil goofball’s like around Winfrey or when indulging in its hobbies. Bro’s a lil shit around other people, ESPECIALLY ones that it doesn’t particularly like. It sort of acts rather emotionless or awkward around people it doesn’t know (who are not prey) by default.

• Despite that fact, Clyde has a LIL bit of an ego that tends to show from time to time, especially over its own crafts & actions. Because of this, it is a LOT more susceptible to getting embarrassed or self defensive than its partner, & will often hold quite a few grudges, sometimes for even the smallest of things.

• Clyde uses a lot of its free time to learn certain skills such as sewing & baking. Why? For Winfrey. Clyde was the one to make Winfrey’s outfit after all, & it quite enjoys making outfits for the both of them now that it’s gotten into the habit of doing so. As much as Clyde loves getting into a ton of different hobbies to keep itself doing shit constantly, they’re MOST of the time going to have something to do with Winfrey. Call Clyde a malewife & I will send the horde to fetch your soul for me WIWOWKWOWKDOOSKFKEEKKR

• It may be… not great at singing, but it still loves singing along with Winfrey whenever it can. Winfrey finds it adorable.

• Ever since it stole that one onesie from Grimmso’s & rescued Winfrey, it’s developed quite the interest for dressing up. Sure, not everything fits perfectly, but it enjoys trying on different outfits just for the heck of it.

• Since a lot of human clothes can already fit Clyde already, most of its outfit-making work is focused solely on Winfrey, making them into a bit of a fashion model for the lil guy. Winfrey may not always agree with whatever Clyde makes, but they both enjoy the process of it nonetheless since Clyde finds it really fun & Winfrey finds it incredibly adorable.

• Clyde is a crafty lil genius that often flexes its intelligence via petty means, such as overly elaborate pranks (that are often aimed at Klaus).

• Clyde despises Klaus due to Klaus just overall being a jerk towards everyone & despises Simon due to how much of a doormat it perceives the guy as.

• Despite being on the run from the entire continent, Clyde still likes to find certain cool places for it & Winfrey to hang out & have some fun at, such as abandoned or empty amusement parks, malls, all that jazz.

• There’s just something about collecting tiny lil trinkets & gizmos & other various Doo dads that delights Clyde. If it’s small & pretty, it’s most definitely going to grab the lil guy’s attention. Captain Quackers the rubber duck was one of these things of course, but Clyde has collected SO MANY other colorful & cute lil things in the past, some of which it has to leave behind since its collection will often get too much to move from place to place.

• Clyde is extremely intelligent when it comes to strategy & crafting… but lacks a bit of emotional & social awareness that makes it hard for the poor thing to empathize with anyone it is not super close to (aka if they’re not Winfrey) as well as properly understanding & handling its own emotions, which is one of the few things Winfrey has a leg up on it with.

• It ADORES rambling on about all sorts of topics they have a fascination with, especially regarding their knack for crafting. Even so, it’s only ever comfortable info-dumping to Winfrey.

I feel like giving y’all a cute nugget of info about the CD AU.

Winfrey:

• Winfrey has a HUGE sweet tooth & enjoys sugary things & baked goods. They can’t choose a favorite, but some of their favorite foods & drinks are cookies, chocolate candy bars, toffee, cupcakes, and hot chocolate. Overall, they prefer bite-sized treats rather than full-blown desserts, but they’ll take what they can get.

• Their spice tolerance is… well, horrible. Even smelling it makes them wanna gag. Unlike Clyde, having something spicy on hand will MOST LIKELY actually save you since Winfrey is nowhere near as crafty & clever like Clyde is. You could probably chase the big guy around with a chili pepper if you feel daring, but I personally wouldn’t recommend it… not just cause you’ll most likely die regardless, but also because that’s cruel & you shouldn’t be scaring poor Winnie like that. How fuckin DARE you??

• Despite being a bit of a dimwit, they ADORE music, especially orchestral or classical music. If they hear a famous century old song play in one way or another, you BET your ass Winfrey’s gonna identify that shit INSTANTLY. This stays even after being traumatized by Lankmann, which is something Clyde both finds adorable & is relieved by.

• Winfrey also admires more complex and intricate outfits, & would be THRILLED to wear something quite dapper if it wasn’t for the fact that… well… they’re fuckin HUGE. Clyde still tries its best to make the big guy look as nice as it possibly can though, & that’s good enough for Winfrey. JWOWKSKWKDKEKEO

• Winfrey’s mouth wasn’t ALWAYS closed like that. The only reason it’s currently a blank slate by default is because Winfrey did that to themselves back when Lankmann had JUST captured them & started interrogating them regarding Clyde’s whereabouts. Beeg guy thought they could give Lankmann the permanent silent treatment, but it didn’t turn out so well for them JAOWDKWOFKWOOD

• Even though they no longer have the bouncy personality they used to, they still get excited & bubbly every now & again, particularly when they & Clyde find a fun place to mess around in or when they get to talk about music… just in general KWOWMDOWKDK

• Winfrey is a lot more open to being social than Clyde, particularly due to their old fascination with humans & their culture. Even after what happened at the asylum, they don’t find it hard at all to empathize with others, sometimes even to an excessive degree. Even so, they are definitely more so a listener rather than a speaker & will rarely ever initiate the conversation.

• They can easily tear open their mouth to speak without feeling an ounce of pain. They can do this due to how their skin isn’t ENTIRELY solid & is still very much composed of classic veldigoop. This goopiness is mainly apparent for the skin that covers their mouth while the rest of the body is decently solid & hard to tear. This is also why Winfrey’s face-skin can easily and flawlessly reconnect after Winfrey is done talking: that shit can just mold back together into one solid piece like putting two chunks of slime together.

• Winfrey enjoys hearing Clyde ramble, no matter the topic at hand. Rarely do they ever understand a lick of what Clyde’s talking about, but they just like hearing Clyde so passionate & excited about something. That & its nerdy rambles are just adorable to listen to IWNWOWKWOWNEOWM

Didn’t know which of the two’s lil categories to put this in, so uh…

I’m putting this as it’s own separate point.

Whenever they can, Clyde & Winfrey like to hop on a train to get around.

Something about trains strangely comforts Clyde, & it almost ALWAYS falls asleep as soon as the two can find their way into a fairly empty & unattended train car to crash in.

Winfrey really enjoys the view they get to see on a moving train, especially during sunset.

Klaus:

• He & Jack actually spend a lot of time in America rather than Canada like the rest of the Veldigun.

• Klaus’ methods for murdering his victims (solo) often has to do with them either luring or simply picking children off the streets. He may enjoy using Jack to finish the job, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they ALWAYS have Jack do it.

• Klaus is ALL business, meaning he & Jack don’t do ANY of the cutesy fun shit that Clyde & Winfrey do. Hell, Klaus finds that shit repulsive. All Klaus & Jack do is kill & try not to get hunted down by the entire continent by moving from place to place CONSTANTLY.

• Despite him being all business… come on, that rat bastard’s definitely tried a cigar at least ONCE at some point. LOOK at them.

Jack:

• Jack sees themselves as just Klaus’ sidekick rather than his equal, obviously thanks to Klaus himself. Because of this, they have VERY little self worth & feels that abandoning Klaus for whatever reason would leave Jack with nothing.

• They never openly admit or display their own opinions on ANYTHING, ALWAYS agreeing with what Klaus says, even if they internally don’t agree in the slightest.

• Jack is actually jealous of Clyde & Winfrey with how strong their relationship is. Klaus may hate the two for being mushy & annoying, but Jack hates them because they can’t stand seeing the two doing much better & being far happier than Jack is.

• For killing, they are usually (in their box form) carefully placed in specific situations where Klaus knows there won’t be any unnecessary witnesses that they can’t catch. Once they’re confident their victim(a) are close enough that they can’t get away, Jack springs into action, preferring to chomp down on the victim’s skull or one of their limbs to incapacitate them so Klaus can come in & either watch them slowly pass or finish the job himself.

• Jack is NOT sadistic like Klaus is, but does not mind killing either because they just see it as a norm at this point. Like… yeah, they’re bummed they can’t eat what they hunt half the time, but it’s just how life do be, so they just roll with it.

• Jack can imitate a plethora of noises, particularly more industrial & mechanical sounding noises such as radio static or *metal pipe sound effect* JWOWKDOWKDOEFK

• They do not eat real food too often, but when they do, they prefer pizza. Doesn’t matter what’s on it.

Simon:

• Even though he never really talk when on his own or with the Flock, he CAN talk. He even happily welcomes any visitors that stop by if they ever catch on that he’s alive.

• Since be chooses to stay at the same farm that Simon Lankmann lived, he doesn’t get much word on what’s happening with the other Veldigun or… just anything in general unless he’s directly told shit by someone else.

• He can sympathize with pretty much ALL the other Veldigun (some more than others… Klaus being at the very bottom of that list for good reason) & do not resent them for continuing to consume the minds of people. He’ll still try to persuade them otherwise, but he’s still pretty accepting of all of them (except for Klaus). He definitely feels bad for Jack the most, always encouraging the big guy to come visit more often but Jack rarely ever takes the deal, fearing what Klaus would do if he ever found out about it.

• He enjoys the taste of corn, which he likes to share with the Flock as well… who will just down the whole ear. Overall, Simon loves any kind of edible vegetation.

• Only VERY FEW have seen what he looks like UNDER the cloth… & you, the reader, are not one of em, so I’m not describing what they look like to you. >:))))))))))

The Flock

• It’s not the brightest, but it can recognize a friendly face from a threat & will act accordingly. For instance, if it knows you’re a friend, it is GOING to demand pets. It’s inevitable. If you are an asshole doing asshole things, it’s going to peck at your head until you fuckin beat it.

• It enjoys eating corn, but it untimately prefers slices of bread. Why? Cause in the off chance that it gets spotted & acts cute enough, there’s gonna be some poor saps who feed it bread every now & again & give the big guy attention, & the Flock LOVES that. It loves receiving bread from kind strangers who don’t know any better. Popcorn also suffices.

• It has the ability to mimic noises like Jack can, but instead of anything industrial, it’s particularly animal noises as well as SOME human phrases, even if it doesn’t actually mean the phrases it sometimes says. So yes, you CAN teach the Flock to say “Fuck”, but Simon isn’t going to be too happy about it. NWIWKDOWOKDM

Lankmann

•

•

•

•

• Linda didn’t NEED to die. He could’ve just let Clyde be contained & gotten all the information he needed to kill these things for good. But he didn’t. Someone was getting too close to the truth, someone he couldn’t just make “disappear”. He needed a way to cover his tracks & be rid of the evidence. It just so happened that Clyde came at QUITE the opportune time. Linda wasn’t that talented of a doctor anyway. No one was going to miss her.

Zamn.

Anyway, I might update this if I think of more headcanons to add in the future, but this is all for now! Thanks for reading!

:)

#doai #dreams of an insomniac #cd au #doai cd au #pastra #pastraspec #Clyde #doai clyde #Pastra clyde #Winfrey #doai winfrey #Pastra winfrey #Clinfrey #Clyde x winfrey #Klaus #Jack #doai jack #Simon #doai simon #Pastra Simon #the flock #flock #doai flock #lankmann #tw death #tw mention of death

[soaringeag1e]

Escape {66}

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Guns, Injuries, Blood

Words: 2,347

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Patreon

His head was throbbing. So much so that he was starting to think that he was still getting wailed on.

Out of normal reaction, Dean goes to reach for the source of the ache but finds his wrists are tied to a chair. Disappointed, he sighs because he knows that he should have seen that coming. 

Slowly blinking his eyes open, he can feel a sticky film on his forehead. Between the pain and that gross feeling, he can only assume that he was bleeding for a certain amount of time. How long, he'll probably never know. 

The dim lighting in the barn caused pain behind his eyes, making him squint as he tried to take in his surroundings. To his knowledge, the man that attacked him was nowhere around and it was quiet except for some weird white noise he was picking up from a few feet away. 

It hurts to move his head, but he forces it to lift from his chest. It’s a slow process, but he gets there. It’s when he sees the legs of another chair that he tries to push through the pain and he’s glad that he does.

“Y/N?” His voice is more faint than he wanted, but surprisingly enough it gets you to look over in his direction. The sight of you tied to your own chair hurts enough as it is, but when he sees that your mouth is covered in duct tape, the pain in his chest gets worse. 

You immediately become emotional when you see him, your eyes glistening under the dim light. Despite your mouth being covered, you attempt to call out for him, the distressed moans making Dean wish he could break free from his binds.

“See. I told you he was fine.” The unknown voice wipes all emotion from Dean’s face and instantly gets replaced with fury. The shadow of a man moves closer to your chair and he watches as his hand lays against your shoulder. You attempt to pull away from him, but of course to no avail. “She thought I killed you.” Then, as he crouches down in front of you, his face gets illuminated by the light just enough that Dean is finally able to see who this asshole is. “That’s why we have this on now though, huh?” The man's hand grips onto your chin, holding you in place as he looks into your eyes. “Because you just wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Cassidy.” Dean looks on in horror. To think that the man he’s been searching for this entire time was right in front of him, it was almost too much to bear. “It would be you, you son of a bitch.” With his grip still on you, Cassidy looks in Dean’s direction, a sickening smirk on his face.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” With a light shove, Cassidy pushes your face away and stands. “When you’re guilty of doing something you feel like it’s so obvious to those around you, but…no one had any clue.”

“You’re such an arrogant asshole.”

“Joke all you want to, Dean. But how many years have you been looking for me?” When he catches the tick in the detective's jaw, it only makes him grin more.

“So you did kill Cassie.” Dean puts out there just to get that confirmation.

“Hmm.” Cassidy hums, wavering his head a bit as he thinks about his answer in a condescending fashion. “I would say that I put her out of her misery.” It was obvious that there wasn’t going to be an answer that was a good one, but that was still hard to hear. “I’m just telling the truth.” he says as he spreads his arms like he’s at a loss for words. “Because after what she went through, I mean…come on.” he shrugs and then looks back at you. “She knows how it is. Don’t ya, darling.” 

“Don’t talk to her.” Dean grits through his teeth, his disgust and anger for this man at an all time high.

“Sorry.” Cassidy’s hands go up in defense mode, but the smirk on his face doesn’t go anywhere. “Just so you know, the thing with this one?” he points at you before going over to his table of little screens and other equipment. “That was all a coincidence. I let Paul pick out the girls.” Dean watches as he slowly starts to gather up all his stuff, looking like a few disposable phones and other random equipment. All of it used to keep himself off the radar, he’s sure.

“But when Paul called me up and told me that she had escaped? Oh, buddy.” he lets out an evil cackle. “I was so pissed. I hauled ass to that house and started looking everywhere for her. I checked top to bottom, wondering if she just hid out somewhere, but…nothing.” he tosses a phone into a wheelbarrow with a loud, echoey thud. “So then I started searching the woods around the house. Still nothing.” he shakes his head, recalling all his movements after you disappeared.

“I even went back to her house, scoped it out for awhile, but she never came home. So, at that point I was really hoping that she had died in the woods somewhere.” he chuckles and just the sheer amount of disregard for human life made Dean pull at his bindings. He wanted to break free and beat this fucker into the ground. “But I looked everywhere and I couldn’t even find a body.” he seems upset with that last part. “I could only hope that you disappeared on your own account and I tried to let it go.” he adds before going back to his task before him. 

“But then!” he yells, making you jump in your seat. “I find out that Paul has been arrested and that some witness was responsible for it. So when I’m asked to work a line up and I see you walk through that door with her!?” he laughs out loud and Dean can see you shaking from across the way. 

“Holy shit! It took so much control to not burst out in laughter right then and there, I’ll tell you that!” Only having a few more things to toss in the wheelbarrow, Dean looks between you and Cassidy, trying to figure out what is going to happen next. Of course, anyone would know how Cassidy wanted this to end and they didn’t need a law enforcement background to figure it out. But Dean knew he had to come up with a plan of his own and really soon if he wanted to get you out of there alive.

“So? What’s your plan now, huh? Shoot us? Leave us here to die? Don’t you think that’ll raise some questions?”

“Oh, it definitely will.” Cassidy nods, throwing a few more trinkets in the large metal wheelbarrow. “No. It wasn’t easy, but I got everything sorted out.” Dean knew that he had to have something planned, but the way he said that didn’t sit right with him. “Lets just say that you’re going to go down in history, Dean. They’re going to have documentaries about you.” he pauses to look at the detective, his smirk looking more evil than ever. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, going undetected all these years after killing your fiance? That’s some hard stuff. And then of course working with Paul and kidnapping all those girls? That takes a lot of planning and hard work too.” Dean had a feeling he knew where this was going, his stomach churning the more the man talked. “And then…” he laughs, glancing at you. “You fell for one of your victims. And who wouldn’t?” he asks rhetorically as he walks up to you and runs his fingers across your cheek. You try to pull away from him, unable to go far while quiet sobs shake your body. “You try and settle down, even get engaged. But then she uncovers your secret.” his fingers run through strands of your hair before he steps away again.

“She finds out that you killed Cassie all those years ago and she confronts you about it. You deny it but she already knows the truth. A fight ensues and in self defense, she kills you. Out of fear, she runs away. But, later down the road, in some other state somewhere, they’ll find her in a motel or something. Suicide, because she just couldn’t handle it all.” Dean swallows at the thought of you dead somewhere like that, but he reminds himself to keep his head in the game. It wasn’t over yet. “As for Bobby? I’m hoping to get this done and get out of here before they can find your body. If they can, that is. I have another life waiting for me in another state. Clean slate, all the way.”

“No one is going to believe you. Especially my family. They know better.”

“Maybe?” Cassidy shrugs. “No one will want to believe it, but you can’t ignore hard evidence. You know that better than anyone, Dean.” After that, Cassidy turns and lifts the handles of the wheelbarrow, pushing it a good ten feet or more from where you sat. It’s there that he grabs a hitch in the ground, hidden underneath some dirt and hay and lifts up an unseen hatch. It was big enough that all Cassidy had to do was push the thing into the hole and just like that, all that evidence was gone. Including the tape he left in the Impala.

After everything was ditched below the floor, Dean watched as Cassidy walked over to the far corner of the barn. Seeing what was over there got his adrenaline pumping and in fear for you, he starts yanking at his binds. When you see how Dean is panicking, you attempt to look over your shoulder, but unfortunately can’t see anything.

“Man! It’s been an eventful couple of years, hasn’t it?” Sadistically amused, Cassidy lifts the red gas can and twists the lid off with ease before pouring the flammable liquid all over the ground. He walks around the perimeter of the barn, soaking every corner of the building before letting the gas dribble out on his way back over to you.

Dean keeps pulling at the ropes that hold him to the chair, his wrists starting to bleed because he’s pulling so hard. He watches as Cassidy pulls a gun from a holster on his back and then his eyes dart to you. Tears are streaming down your face and Dean can see that your eyes are glued to the gun while Cassidy pops the clip out to make sure it’s loaded, and it’s then that Dean recognizes the weapon he’s holding. 

He looks over his shoulder as if he expects to see his gun on him, but it’s clear that it wasn’t. It was now in the hands of the same man that took Cassie from him. The same man that did unspeakable things to you and now, the same man that was going to shoot him with his own weapon.

Sticking the clip back into place, Cassidy locks eyes with the detective. No emotion in the man whatsoever. He was purely cold hearted and evil and there was nothing that could be said to change Dean’s mind on that.

“Any last words, Dean?” Dean can only stare at him, his jaw locked, teeth clenched together and if looks could kill, Dean would be free already. 

“Go to hell.”

“Well,” Slipping the safety off, Cassidy raises the gun. “Have a table waiting for me, will ya? We’ll share a drink when I make it down there.” When the gun goes off, Dean can hear you scream through the duct tape. Except, to hear anything throws Dean for a loop. He knows that Cassidy is a good shot, so why wasn’t he already dead?

“Sorry, darling.” he says through your continued screams and it’s then that Dean opens his eyes. His chair has toppled over and there’s an excruciating pain coming from his leg. 

“Can’t have you fighting me while I get you out of the chair, now can I?” Taking a knife, Cassidy cuts him loose and then kicks the chair into the corner of the barn. Knowing that flames would take over the structure soon, there was no need in hiding the thing. It would be ashes in no time.

Dean expects to see the barrel of his gun in his face after that, but it’s not what happens. Instead, Cassidy starts to walk back to you and unties you next. He slaps some handcuffs on your wrists and keeps you close, tugging you along as he walks back to the injured detective.

“You have any last words, darlin?” he asks just before ripping the duct tape from your face. You cry out in pain, tears streaming down your face as you look at Dean on the ground. He holds his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers as he looks up at you.

“You can’t win, Cassidy.” he grounds out through the pain. “Bobby has already seen that tape and he won’t stop until he has you. You know that.”

“We’ll see.”

“Dean.” you whimper just before Cassidy lifts the gun and shoots off two more rounds. “No! Dean!”

“That’s for punching me in the face.” Cassidy adds before gripping down on your arm and yanking you out of the barn. 

Your screams for Dean echo into the night and he can hear each one as he lays there in the dirt. The pain doesn’t seem to be as bad as he was expecting it to be, but trying to stay awake? That was the real challenge. Your voice sounded like it was falling down a rabbit hole after a while and then he could barely hear the sound of an engine after that.

Then nothing. It was quiet except for the bugs chirping in the bushes outside and his own gurgled breathing.

#Escape #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural fic #dean x reader #dean #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester x reader #detective dean winchester #supernatural au #supernatural angst #dean winchester au #dean au #detective dean winchester au #detective dean au #detective dean #supernatural detective dean winchester #supernatural detective dean #supernatural detective dean au #supernatural detective dean winchester au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #detective dean fanfic #detective dean winchester fanfic #detective dean winchester fanfiction

[thecleverqueer]

I’ve probably talked about this before, but now that she’s actually coming back, I would like to reiterate my hopes and fears for Barriss Offee.

I’ll start by saying that I do not think that Barriss accepting her role as an Inquisitor with open arms is very likely.

I mean, her whole reason for blowing up the Jedi temple in the first place was because she thought that the Jedi had become an army fighting for the darkness. So, her openly embracing the ideology of the Empire seems wildly out of character. For this reason, my hope for her would be that she is doing what she must to survive, that she is using her status as an Inquisitor as a springboard for escape, and that she will succeed in her efforts.

My fear for her is that she absolutely will not survive. The likelihood of her getting offed in this is relatively high. She could get unceremoniously iced by a fellow Inquisitor (my guess would be the Fourth Sister, who bails her out of jail in the first place). Equally likely, she could get offed by Vader… and not for the reasons everyone thinks which is to exact revenge for what happened to Ahsoka. Let’s face it. Vader doesn’t give two shits about Ahsoka at this point. Vader was going to ice Ahsoka himself before Filoni put time travel wormholes into the Star Wars universe so that Ahsoka could be ripped through it before meeting her untimely demise at Vader’s hand. No. He’d kill Barriss for something far more arbitrary. Something that would suck, but also would be incredibly unpoetic, lazy and unfulfilling after not seeing her for over a decade. And, this is why it feels so likely, I guess. Why wasn’t she in Rebels or Kenobi or any other media with Inquisitors? Did she find some sort of freedom and lay low until the dust settled? Or did she get un-alived? Her odds? Not great.

Which leads me back to my hopes for her… I want her to make it through this era. I want her to find someone like Baylon to hang out with. Maybe she’ll find a convent of former Jedi that didn’t want to bend to the will of the Empire, but also felt that the Jedi had lost their way and so they worked to make themselves into something else. Not good, but not necessarily bad or, at least, not intentionally bad.

I’d like for her to run into Ahsoka…. but not in the Tales of the Empire series… somewhere else. Based on the fact that Ahsoka is still being salty about all of the things that happened to her in her teen years in her series, I don’t feel as if she and Barriss had the chance to ever kiss and makeup.

I honestly feel as if Ahsoka, ultimately, fell victim to Barriss’s wild inability to improvise. I don’t think Barriss framed her on purpose (at least, canon, and that deleted scene where Barriss hugs Ahsoka as she is being escorted out of the temple after being expelled from the order, seems as if it could support my head-canon). It would be, at the very least, nice to get confirmation of this… OR, why the fuck she chose to frame Ahsoka for it if it was a conscious decision. Like, I get that she was the only person that could have railroaded Ahsoka’s emotions like that, but come on. There had to be a lead up.

I also don’t see it being very in-character for Ahsoka to off Barriss in a showdown. That’s another place where it would be kind of lame if there is an Ahsoka versus Inquisitor Barriss duel in this. Ahsoka doesn’t seem bent on killing for revenge even in her lowest moments, and she is wasn’t able to bring herself to kill Barriss before when Barriss was infected by the brain worms. I feel as though Ahsoka would forgive Barriss for what happened… assuming Barriss asked for forgiveness. And, Barriss would. In something like this, a short, we’d end up getting a heartless, quasi-emotionless duel between the two of them that would end almost as unceremoniously as Vader offing Barriss (because clearly Ahsoka would win). No. At least, I hope not.

So yeah. TL/DR: Hope Barriss survives to fight another day.

#star wars #tales of the empire #barriss offee #ahsoka tano #the inquisitor #darth vader #fourth sister

[genderqueer-miharu]

I've been mostly quiet about my feelings on amane's situation but really, even after seeing every reasoning for her to be guilty i still don't get it. HOW is it helpful? How is it good to choose to mentally torture and endanger the life of the 12 year old???

"Oh it's to protect the other prisoners" first off if any of these grown ass adults can't defend themselves against the child that's on them. And i also don't get this argument because like, literally any character can attack others if they have the means. The scissors amane had in her voice drama she got them from a supplies closet that EVERYONE has access to, they also have a kitchen with cooking utensils, literally any of them can get a weapon from these places, not to mention how they can literally order weapons as well since kotoko got that baton she used to attack the guilty prisoners.

And speaking of, since people are so concerned about the safety of the adults here (not the prisoners as a whole since, again the only other two guilty characters so far are minors), then why not go after the woman with weapons who attacked three people here, almost killed one of them and has threatened to kill the other one. Like if everyone's so worried about any of the prisoners getting hurt then i better see kotoko's percentage be the highest guilty one so far.

I don't know what people are expecting will happen with her being guilty but i can say that her being guilty will result in her life being endangared more than anyone else. Not even mentioning the pyschological torture the guilty prisoners are confirmed to under go, but being guilty means she would be restrained physically which means she won't be able to defend herself, especially when we already have two characters that the series has hinted could kill amane as well. Haruka saying he's not scared of young kids anymore, saying he can kill things smaller than him AND his victim also being a young girl possibly around amane's age, and kotoko saying she wouldn't let amane get away with things easily just cause she's a child, yeah i think her safety should be considered more.

It's all "it's for the safety of the prisoners" when in actuallity it's for the safety of the adults. Amane is a prisoner here as well what about HER safety. I get that it's Milgram and there are no right or wrong ways to vote but, again i think it's significantly worse to put the life of a child who we literally see get beat up, waterboarded and tazed in her videos in danger than the possibility that she might attack anyone else.

"But she told us not to treat her like a child" yeah well then how about treating her like a person and consider her safety and well being as much as you're considering the safety and well being of the adults around her.

#milgram #yeah fuck it. im tagging this. #i've seen her percentage dropping every day ever since her mv came out. i'm done #tw child abuse

[aemiron-main]

That Wasn’t Me, That Was Patricia: Split, ST, TFS, and Miss Patricia vs Patricia Newby

So, I remembered that “Split,” is on the S4 board- well, technically, the movie “Unbreakable,” is on the board, which is the third movie in the trilogy that Split is part of (Glass, Split, and Unbreakable), and what I’m talking about today is about the series as a whole/point is, that whole story is confirmed inspo:

And in Split, there’s a character named Kevin, and Kevin has 23 personalities (and then a 24th extra personality called The Beast, but we’ll get to that in another post), and one of those personalities is named Patricia:

And in TFS, not only is Patty’s full name Patricia, but Mr Newby also repeatedly calls her Patricia during the play.

And in Split, one of Patricia’s characteristics is that she sings- for example, she sings to one of the other personalities, Hedwig, which reminds me of Patty’s singing being such a core part of her character in TFS:

There’s also “that wasn’t me, that was Patricia,” versus TFS Henry “it wasnt me” in reference to the cave in Nevada:

Technically, this “that was Patricia” line doesn’t appear in the movie- HOWEVER, it was SUCH a huge meme/reference to the movie that I won’t be surprised if Henry’s TFS dialogue was written in reference to that joke as a way of referencing the whole Split/Patricia thing.

And also in Split, the question of whether or not two identities can coexist/front at the same time- and the answer is yes, which reminds me of the TFS scene where “Henry” is in the attic with Alice, and Alice asks “Where’s Henry?” and “Henry” responds with “he’s right here,” and Alice says “you’re not Henry, you’re not him,” and Henry was seemingly referring to himself in 3rd person- or, instead, he’s NOT HENRY, like Alice said, but with Henry being “right here,” it feels like this Not Henry guy is coexisting with Henry in a way that’s very similar to how two identities coexisting at the same time is described in Split:

And now, I’m wondering if Patty and Henry are somehow connected to Brenner’s mind or inside of his mind/have somehow been “absorbed” by him.

Especially with one of the Brenners in the NINA bunker talking about how 001 “absorbs” his victims versus all of the weird Brenner-001 stuff (including his line during TFS where he says “no ONE except for me Henry”), and the idea that the absorption abilities in ST could be very similar to Kevin’s multiple personalities in Split, as 001 canonically absorbs the memories, personalities, everything from his victims:

(Also, the point specifically about abilities getting absorbed is interesting re: Patty’s singing vs Patricia singing & the fact that Split brings up that certain personalities will have abilities that the other personalities dont have, despite all being in the dame body- it’s interesting, because TFS makes a point of showing us in the beginning that Henry is NOT good at singing whatsoever- and yet, at the end of TFS, when he sings to El, his singing has vastly improved. Almost like he somehow absorbed the skill from Patty, which would align with what I’m talking about here re: some sort of weird Henry-Patty-Brenner mental connection. Which also makes me wonder about Henry’s drawing skills in-show vs the fact that in-show Brenner is shown to not be good at drawing- are we going to get a weird version of Brenner that CAN draw because he’s connected to Henry/absorbed him/whatever???)

So, instead of a literal DID situation, it’s much more of a figurative one, I want to be super clear that I’m not saying that Henry and Patty are just the result of Brenner actually having multiple personalities- I’m saying that there’s weird connections between Brenner and 001 and the idea of Brenner somehow being 001, and the whole Brenner-Edward merge idea, and then the fact that 001’s canon absorption powers could appear similarly to Kevin’s multiple personalities, and that Patty and TFS Henry were real actual separate people, but may have gotten absorbed by 001/absorbed into the hivemind, and are now in some sort of weird Brenner-hivemind-simulation situation in TFS.

Hell, part of me wonders if that’s what’s going on with everyone in TFS- after all, basically all of the characters get referred to as “ONE” in some way at some point, and there’s all of the weirdness re: TFS being some sort of weird simulation and having all of these 1970s anachronisms, such as the Chuck E’s In Love reference & Rachel, Nevada not existing until 1978.

Anyway! Lots to think about!

#stranger things #the first shadow #patty newby

[shychick-52]

Fanfic - Fenro Week 2023

Here is my contribution for Day 2 (Family, Healing/Beginnings, Future) of @fenroweek2023.

It is a direct sequel to my story from last year's Fenro Week, Thank You, taking place immediately where that left off. Doesn't yet have a title XD

Gizmoduck didn’t have the strength in him to rise or open his eyes, let alone continue to fight. Both he and the armor fared poorly after his battle with 2-BO. He didn’t think either of them would survive another attack.

Out of all the opponents he faced, the little robot boy proved his most formidable and dangerous.

As Gizmoduck lay on the pavement in the damaged suit, vulnerable without his helmet- which had been discarded by 2-BO, now cracked and useless beside him (fortunately, Inspector Tezuka had managed to temporarily taser him before he could harm his exposed head or face)- he could feel 2-BO’s shadow suddenly creep over him, blocking out the sun as he loomed high, poised to strike the finishing blow.

No. It can’t end like this. M’ma… Huey… Gyro… all my friends. I’m sorry. I failed everybody.

But then something else moved in directly above him. A voice. Gyro’s voice… unusually earnest and pleading.

“2-BO! You are not evil! You are good!”

To Fenton’s absolute horror, the sound of 2-BO’s rocket thrusters became increasingly audible. He forced open his eyes-

Gyro boldly stood on the hovering platform that had been occupied by Akita only moments ago, standing between the fallen hero and 2-BO, the latter swooping down like a bird of prey upon his victim. And with 2-BO, Fenton’s heart also plummeted.

A million things exploded through his mind at once.

G-Gyro? You…? NO! What are you doing? You’ll be killed!

Blathering blatherskite, I’ve never felt more useless! He willed everything he had to get up and get Gyro out of there, but to no avail.

What even made him change his mind about 2-BO? And I’ve never heard him sound like that before!

He’s… risking his life to s-save me…?

“You’re more than your programming!” Gyro continued to cry out in a desperate bid to get through to his invention, with even more emotion.

Fenton was barely aware of Huey’s presence, tightly gripping the right shoulder of the Gizmoduck armor as he likewise observed the terrifying turn of events.

And yet, an ounce of hope remained. A tiny spark, awaiting the perseverant fanning into a flame.

“Come on, Boyd,” Huey whispered, confirming he felt it too.

Gyro… 2-BO…

The remaining seconds ticked by as if in slow-motion, with no change, almost tauntingly. Fenton was just about to yell out to Gyro to get out of the way, to save himself, when his lanky mentor yelled, voice hitching, “YOU ARE A DEFINITELY. REAL. BOY!”

2-BO dove straight for Gyro’s outstretched arms-

A collective gasp burst out of Fenton, Huey, and also Tezuka, where she held the handcuffed Akita.

-And smashed into him with his ready fist.

The horrified, pained screeches of the little audience seemed to rock the street, a sonic-boom briefly shooting along the wind before it altogether dropped (leaving behind the remnants of an echo), just like-

“GYRO!”

“NO!”

The platform descended, presenting them with the crumpled, bloody form of their friend.

2-BO, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight. He had apparently blasted off elsewhere. But even though the rest of the city was doomed, all Fenton could think about was Gyro.

“Dr. Gearloose?” Huey wept, kneeling over him.

He carefully examined his vitals, before hoarsely exclaiming “He’s- he’s g-gone!”

The ever-loyal Lil Bulb slowly emerged from the inside pocket of Gyro’s vest, collapsing on his inventor’s unmoving chest in a pool of crimson. Half his bulb was completely cracked, broken, exposing the dented filament. His limbs were a mangled mess, right leg and left arm uselessly dangling by thread-like wiring. A slow, disjointed series of buzzes and whirrrrs rose.

Fenton wrestled his way out of the armor, crawling to Gyro’s side. “Oh, Dr. Gearloose… Gyro. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry,” he whispered, shaking with the fervency of his own sobs, which surpassed even Huey’s. He gingerly cradled his upper body to him, stroking his matted, stained feathers. He looked so small in Fenton’s lap, and his glasses and hat were lost, making him look twice as vulnerable.

With Akita safely locked in the Inspector’s car, she too approached the scene. Her countenance was a mix of grim, furious, and forlorn as she removed her hat, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

Every one of Gyro’s organs and ribs had to be shattered. As it was, both arms were bent and twisted in gruesomely unnatural positions. And only then did Fenton catch the edge of naked bone stabbing clean through the right elbow.

Fighting the mounting tsunami of nausea, he quickly ordered Huey not to look.

It didn’t deter Fenton from his unexplainable burning need to hold Gyro close as though he might never let go, to protect him. An unstoppable torrent of hot, thick tears gushed down his face, splashing onto Gyro’s.

He was overcome with the most disconcerting sensation of detachment from reality, from time, from his own body, leaving him wracked with the agony of a gaping, hollowed-out cavity in his own chest where a crushing heaviness took residence.  

Minutes later, the reverberating blast of plasma fire in their direct vicinity was all but lost on Fenton like background din.

What immediately followed without a beat- Gyro disintegrating into literal nothingness- was not.

The windows to Fenton’s soul snapped, stretched to their capacity. He could see his own tears being flung away, tiny crystal-like fragments, again in almost slow-motion. It was a wonder his mind was in any condition to process this unspeakable new development. A raw, unearthly scream wrenched from his throat as he stared at the empty space in his arms where he could still perfectly see Gyro.

He forced himself to face the direction of the onslaught. The Moonlander general stood mere feet away, smoking blaster in hand. He wore a smile colder than any new Ice Age he once tried to usher in over Earth.

“That one,” Lunaris said, “was not a clone.”

The laughter of Akita sounded in the distance, high and cruel.

***

Fenton gave a violent jolt, unceremoniously dumped into a strange new realm of awareness.

He choked harsh, frenzied gulps of breath in and out as he hugged himself in practically a death-grip. His sights erratically pinballed.

Finally, his focus returned, allowing him to calm down and retrieve his bearings. He was on the Sunchaser/Cloudslayer (piloted by Lil Bulb) with Gyro, Huey, and 2-B- Boyd, bound for home after their adventure in Tokyolk.

An adventure that resulted in Gyro confronting his and Boyd’s connected pasts, learning the incredible truth behind them, confronting his cruel old mentor, emotionally reconciling and embracing his long-lost ‘child’- not his greatest failure after all, but rather his greatest achievement- and acknowledging and promoting Fenton (even though his new status was only honorary, since he hadn’t earned his doctorate yet, the gesture from Gyro was genuine and meant the world to Fenton). And it looked like- at least, Fenton dearly hoped- the beginning of a real friendship between him and Gyro.

Fenton made his gaze deeply drink in the sight of his friends, including Boyd. Gyro was safe, and all of them were still sound asleep. Gyro sat to the right of him, followed by Boyd, then Huey.

But his chance to sink into a much-needed sigh of relief was short-lived. To his alarm, Gyro began to release loud, broken whimpers; writhing, his entire face contorted in agony.

“Gyro?” Fenton whispered, tentatively touching his shoulder. Should he wake him or leave him be? His first instinct was the former, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if being suddenly woken would be a shock to his system in the state he was already in.

Only three undecided seconds went by when Gyro’s nightmare spat him out first, gasping and trembling like Fenton had.

“Dr. Gearloose!” Keeping his voice low, Fenton gently pulled Gyro against him, cocooning him in a protective embrace that reminded him of the dream. He rubbed circles against his back, fleetingly wondering if he would think Fenton was taking advantage of his grudging acceptance of being hugged earlier (he did say it was a “just-for-today thing”, but still).

Finally, he could feel Gyro’s heart- pressed against his own- begin to slow down, resuming a normal rhythm, his breaths coming in like the softening laps of the tide after a great wave.

“Are you all right?” Fenton asked. He eased himself off Gyro, still tightly watching him.

And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? And that’s when he saw the tears staining Gyro’s face, glistening in a patch of moonlight. How hadn’t he noticed them right away? The fresh remainder pooled in the corners of Gyro's eyes, before escaping and chasing each other down.

But that wasn’t the most surprising thing. It was the way Gyro stared right back at him in what could only be described as a cocktail of leftover terror and sheer relief. Though not exactly the kind of relief one normally feels at realizing what they experienced was just a dream, because his gaze was distinctly focused. There was something more there.

Gyro exhaled tremulously, pressing his fingers against his temple.

“Dr. Gearloose? I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it? I don’t know what you dreamt about, but I think I understand how you’re feeling right now. Believe it or not, I just had a nightmare myself.”

“…You did?” Gyro quietly asked with a slight frown. It was difficult to read his reaction. Curious? Surprised? Concerned…?

Fenton nodded. “It was the most realistic, terrifying one I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some pretty intense ones. Anyway, I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose- I don’t mean to make it all about me. But I understand if you don’t want to-”

“Do… um, you want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t believe it. Gyro was offering to listen? And what was more, he sounded genuine. This was the man who had little patience for simple conversation! When he gave Fenton his promotion, he told him that he was going to treat him with respect and support from now on, but he wasn’t expecting such a milestone so soon.

Fenton was touched. In his already emotional state, it was difficult to keep from crying.

But… was he comfortable sharing this nightmare with Gyro- would Gyro even be comfortable hearing about it- since it concerned him, not to mention its intensity?

“You don’t have to, of course,” Gyro added a touch awkwardly, seeing his hesitation, “but I-”

“It was about you.”

An incoherent noise of disbelief tumbled out of the other scientist.

After a quick glance at the still sleeping kids (as Boyd’s sleep-mode worked similarly to a person’s, he could be awakened by external stimuli), Fenton told Gyro everything. Once he started, he found the words just poured out, unable to stop even if he really wanted to.

Including describing what his death did to him.

Only when he nearly finished did he realize Gyro looked like a course of electricity had coursed through his veins and left him stunned.

Fenton concluded, biting his lip, “I truly felt like nothing would ever be ok again.”

“I- but- you-” whispered Gyro.

“Gyro?”

“I… had the same dream, minus the Moonlander. Only, you were the one 2-B- I mean, Boyd attacked. I was too late to move in, it all happened so fast. One minute, I spotted you injured on the ground from your fight with him, then-”

He swallowed, paling. “It was- it was the most- I was too blathering late! I always knew I should have gone above Scrooge’s head and scrapped the armor a long time ago, or even refused to make the new model for you in the first place! If you hadn’t stolen the original- if I’d never even developed Project Blatherskite- you would’ve still been alive! Do you have any idea how difficult it was finding you unconscious in the old prototype armor before I fired you for being a reckless danger to yourself and others? Or what it was like when I heard you were hospitalized after your temporary gig as Waddleduck, you noble, self-sacrificing idiot? Or every single time you have to leave the lab to go Gizmoducking and I’m left wondering if you’re going to return in one piece, or at all?”

Gyro…

Gyro breathed heavily. “I always knew Gizmoduck would end in another 'Tokyolk incident', only it wasn’t only my reputation I was terrified of losing all over again,” he said. Some of the vehemency of his tirade had dissipated, but the earnestness remained. “I was so conflicted about how much like my former self you w- are.”

Fenton caught how he hastily corrected himself there, as though he still had one foot stuck in the dream.

“I liked and hated that. I… I know it’s no excuse, but maybe part of the reason I was so tough on you was because- well, as cliché as it sounds, I truly always did believe in you both as a scientist and a hero- but also because, at the same time, I wanted to squash that naivete and bright-eyed over-optimism before it ended up destroying you like it did to me or literally. And it isn’t easy for me to admit, but I was wrong, Dr. Inter- Fenton. The truth is,” he murmured, “I never saw just how much I cared about you until the minute I spotted you helpless on the ground today, about to be attacked by poor, corrupted Boyd.”

That was exactly what gave Fenton the same revelation before he and Gyro fell asleep earlier. But to hear Gyro actually tell him that...

“You risked your life to save me,” Fenton said for the second time since they'd been on the plane back home. He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I really won't ever forget that. And I care about you too, Gyro, very much." Maybe it was redundant to say so after already explaining the impact his own dream had on him, but it seemed necessary.

The ghost of a smile crossed Gyro’s face.

“You know,” said Fenton thoughtfully, “I’ve always considered you, me, Lil Bulb, Manny, even Huey- and now Boyd- a family. Team Science. And after everything that’s happened today, I can safely say I feel that way even more strongly.”

“I can live with that,” Gyro replied, the smile returning in the form of a good-natured smirk as he rolled his eyes. “And we all may be misfits, but, well, you’re my misfits.”

#fenro week 2023 #fenro #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #fanfic

[notyour-valentine]

A Fair Exchange XLIV ~ Aemond Targaryen x Reader/OC (Angst)

[Navigation] [Moonboard Masterlist] [House of the Dragon Masterlist]

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: What was the Dany quote? To go forward you must go back..

Warning: bullying, blood, mention and threat of violence and death, mutilation, mention of torture and death, childbirth, injury, misogyny. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

[Series Masterlist]

Previously

Part XLIV

She went to sleep thinking of Tyseleys, of Jace, of Aemond and of home.

In her dreams she got three of these things. In her dreams she was once again a dragon. Ever since she had tried to put them into words discussing it with Aemond, she was far more aware of how much control she could have.

Granted, there were moments where she felt like a passenger once more, someone watching Tyseleys senses and movements, but some where different, in which she could move things, do things, that were almost nonsensical, that Tyseleys had no business and no need of doing unless it was her doing them, and not him.

And every morning she woke thinking it all may have been a dream, but feeling deep down that maybe it wasn't, though that left her with a sea of uncertainty. Just like Aemond.

She had grown to rely on him in so many ways, for their safety, for protection and strength, or even just to keep at least a small portion of worry from the younger ones.

She had grown to rely on him because there was no one else to rely on, not without the crushing guilt of burdening her brother who could grow to be a hundred but would stay that round cheeked baby boy with a mop of curly hair to her.

Her own shame and agony at seeing that mockery they called art, with 'her' as a weak and foolish damsel helpless to any whim, Luke as a babbling child and Aemond as more beast than man, vile, violent and cruel.

She had seen more than he had done, but what little he had seen had cut him deeply. It had gone unaddressed between them, unaddressed by anyone until that foolish guard had opened his mouth.

The Aemond they had seen then had frightened her, even if his rage was no longer directed at her and hers. Still, it had been a terrifying thing to behold and made him cower, while leaving her in a state of sickening unease.

She had been the playwright of their own mummery, never confirming, but never denying and instead fitting the mold of whichever interpretation people chose to believe. For her that meant high collars, modest cuts, a canvas of vulnerability and pain.

That left the role of the villain, and he had executed it to perfection. A villain, she thought, of my creation. In making herself the saintly victim, she made him to the monster in her tale.

Seeing him so terrifying once more had made her feel like she was walking on old, weakened floorboards, creaking with every step. One never knew if the next step would hold ones weight or send them crushing down.

She had expected Aemond's wrath or at least his ambivalence. The last thing she had expected was his tenderness.

After the wind and the cold, the unfortunate encounter of the guards and the seemingly endless discussions before the Lord of Evenfall, getting Jaehaera warm and dry and comfortable had been her priority.

It had left her with little strength and even less patience to deal with herself, and while she had enjoyed the warm water, she lacked the tolerance for her unruly hair.

Compared to that, Aemond had shown near divine restraint. Not only had he offered, but when he had done it, there had been no trace of impatience, nor the nervous tugging at tangled strands. He combed through her hair with the diligence of a silk weaver who would take an arm and a leg for his craftsmanship and then still haggle for more.

There was a certainty to his touch, a confidence and a soothing rhythm as he massaged her scalp, ran his long agile fingers through his hair, though they had long grown swollen and soaked.

He had treated her hair as if it was as precious spun gold and as fragile as butterfly wings, apologising for every ruined bit he had to remove with his dagger.

His gentleness in execution had surprised her as much as his offer had, but now, looking back, her own acceptance of either surprised her.

Hair grew quickly, and the strands he had tugged on in their childhood had long been replaced, and the memory had been forgotten, at least then.

His care had calmed her, for once, for the first time in forever it seemed. He had calmed her, if only for a moment.

"You coming?", Luke asked, tearing her from her thoughts. Only then did she realise she had ran her hands down the braid he had made.

She pulled her fingers away as if she had burned herself, clearing her throat and nodding.

Jaehaera had slept soundly during the night, and rubbed her eyes with the back of the hand that clung to loyal Ser Symeon, as her feet patted across the floors of Evenfall Hall to the solar where they would be served breakfast.

A proper breakfast, a proper meal, with warm tea, boiled and fried sausages, bread, cheese, fruit.

The smell alone was enough for her mouth to water, but the offer overwhelmed her after days of fearing for nourishment, of counting again and again that they would have enough to last them, or at least Jaehaera and Luke.

She sat down her little cousin on a pillow and began cutting up fruit for her to add to her porridge, occasionally nibbling on one bit herself, while enjoying the warming sensation of the tea, to which she had added a generous drop of honey.

Luke devoured the sausages, his lips glistening with fat. He too had been famished and drained by the responsibility of getting them to land safely.

Aemond's absence made her uneasy, and his late arrival through the door that led to the castle and not his bedroom did little to quench her worry, just like the line between his brows.

"What happened?", She asked, but the only response was a shake of his head, and a warning glance to the servants.

Her tea seemed sickly sweet to her now, failing to mask the fearful bitterness.

Aemond sat, his hand barely around a goblet, the other drumming impatient rhythms on the old wood.

She knew better than to expect an answer of him now as his eye stared out into thin air.

So she turned her attention back to Jaehaera, who required more apples please.

After she had added them to her nearly finished porridge, she ran a hand down her hair to smooth down the strands. Compared to Aemond's diligence, the braid she had done for Jaehaera paled in comparison.

He had put such effort into her hair, undoubtedly he expected the same devotion from her when it came to her little cousin. Why should he not?

The moment Luke turned to the servant with a request, Aemond's arm shot out like a snake, grabbing her wrist as he leaned in.

"They wouldn't let me send a raven.", He hissed.

By the time she had turned her head, he was settled again as if nothing had happened, as if he had never abandoned his musings.

She wanted to ask why, but the fact that he chose silence in light of the servants made her hold her tongue.

Before an opportunity presented itself, Evenfall's atty Maester entered, asking them to follow him to meet his Lord.

The fact that the steps led them not to his solar, his library or any more cozy place was warning enough, and by the time they passed through the bronze arches of the great circular hall, her heart thundered in her chest.

Now the old Lord of Tarth had polished himself as he had his sword, white hair combed back, clothes tightened to hide the softening of age. Behind him stood a dozen of the Tartheen guards, but nothing hid the nervousness in his eyes.

"My Lord Tarth.", Aemond said with grim respect as he bowed his head just slightly. "Have you come to see us off?"

To see us home.

The Lord of Tarth nodded.

"That I have. But given the delicate nature our realms find themselves in, and the hand House Targaryen has in it, with divides that are unreadable from beyond the bonds of blood, I have decided to pass custody of you over to my liege."

As he finished, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your liege?", Aemond snapped, cutting his contentment short.

"Yes.", the Maester said. "You asked for a ship and a ship you shall have, already prepared and awaiting you at the docks."

"We asked for a ship to take us to Dragonstone!", Luke argued, his cheeks flushed red as he stepped in front of her. "Not Storm's End."

Her heart dropped at the mention of that place, and the unrelenting will of the Maester or his Lord to send them there.

If they wanted to leave Tarth, it would be aboard the Lady Brianne and the Lady Brianne would sail only to Storm's End.

But once they, no matter how reluctantly, stood on deck of that proud ship, wearing the blue and purple of Tarth, her stomach was faint and fickle even before they made loose.

Storm's End.

Never in her life did she wish to see those round towertops and the smooth black stone again. Never in her life did she wish to see the round bearded face of Lord Borros, nor gaze upon the hall that had only recently been painted with the crimson of her blood.

And here she was heading right towards it.

Luke shared her unease, fallen into sullen silence he seemed glued to her side, with his hand coiled into a fist.

Aemond said nothing, his face and thoughts unreadable.

Only Jaehaera made her irritation at being on yet another ship known, driven by fear and uncertainty. She had had her fill of sailing, she feared as she tried to calm the girl best she could, which was no small ask given the state of her own nerves.

The storm delayed their departure for a few hours and it seemed like not even the Stormlanders themselves trusted Shipbreaker Bay to be merciful on them.

But as soon as the gray clouds cleared somewhat they could see the shining towers of this godsforsaken place.

Neither of them knew what kind of welcome they would receive. Neither of them dared to ask the other what they thought. There was no need. Of any place in the six Kingdoms loyal to the Iron Throne or her mother, Storm's End was the last any of them wished to be.

And yet here they were, rain running down their borrowed cloaks like little rivers, dripping down onto the stone floors as they approached the Lord of Storm's End.

He sat atop his stone throne, long banners of black and yellow behind him, covering near all the entire length of the walls above it. His maester was sitting on one side, his lady wife on the other, on a cushioned bench, her hand resting on a slightly swollen belly.

Perhaps a brother, perhaps yet another sister to add to the four he already had, which stood beside their mother.

To her they were four a penny, with their black hair and stormy eyes. She did not care for their names or if they could be considered pretty or not, or which was the eldest or not.

She only looked ahead, to Lord Baratheon, as they approached. She had picked up Jaehaera to rest on her hip, Luke at her left, Aemond at her right.

None seemed to wish to lead, nor to be left in the shadows of the party.

With little to show for themselves, her mind went to what they did show, the borrowed clothes that were tight in some places and loose in others.

She wore a midnight blue dress that was hidden by the large dark gray coat, that was a little too large for her shoulders. It created an unflattering silhouette but as unflattering as it was, it was a vast improvement to the last time she had been in these halls, simply due to the fact that she was conscious this time around.

And her body was not actively poisoning itself in an attempt to heal the blossoming infection. The thought made her dragon eye pulse.

They were only a few feet away, when Lord Borros could finally see them, long after Lady Baratheon had inhaled sharply, and the daughters either averted their eyes, nervously laced their fingers or shuddered at the sight of them.

His narrow eyes squinted, then widened as he fell back into his carved stone throne.

"Seven hells!", Was the greeting he mustered for his daughter's former betrothed, the heir to Driftmark, Queen Rhaenyra's eldest daughter and King Viserys' second youngest granddaughter.

Aemond exhaled sharply, his chest twitching, as if to suppress an urge to lunge at him.

Lord Baratheon's cheeks turned white, then a spotty red.

"You,", He spat, "back in my hall!"

His voice bounced back from the walls.

"Not by choice, my Lord.", Aemond said. "Lord Tarth denied us passage without consulting his liege. We require ravens to send to our family and a ship to take us north, for which the captain will be compensated."

"No small ask in these times.", The Maester said, but was drowned out by his lord.

"What?", Lord Borros spat as if Aemond has asked for an arm and a leg. "You act as if you can expect hospitality in my hall, my ship and service after everything!"

His balled fist crashed on the armrest of his chair.

"The last time you were in my hall you betrothed yourself to my daughter and called them traitors."

He waved at them.

"Since then that betrothal has been revoked by the High Septon himself and my halls stains by your deeds!"

He glared at her, spittle foaming at the corner of his mouth, as if she herself had moped up the blood and written to the High Septon herself to make it so.

"My name has been stained.", he boomed. "My honour, my family's honour, by you, by all of you!"

"The only one staining their honour is you!", Lucerys snapped, before either she or Aemond had the chance to.

He glared at the Lord of Storm's End unafraid as he stared the older man down. In his eyes lay nothing but fury.

"We came to you as envoys, broke the sacred bread of guest right and yet you broke your word and noble duty by not only denying my sister the medical care she needs but trying to push you out of your home out of cowardice!"

"Who are you calling a coward?", He growled like the rumbling sky just before a lightning strike, but Luke was unafraid.

"I don't have to call you a thing. I know you to be a coward.", He said unflinchingly, staring down the man who was thrice his age and four times his weight.

"And your Maester to be just as bad. If the Citadel forged links in incompetence he'd have a whole chain of that alone!", Her brother spat, his anger flashing white like molten metal.

She reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. All he had said was true, and she loved him more for his anger, but they needed a ship, and if Lord Tarth had deserted them, Lord Borros was their only option.

The man in question dissolved into a fit of rage at her brother's words, gasping for air between angry huffs and insults.

"You asked for our presence.", Aemond said, filling the void with a sharp, cutting tone.

"Here we are. Turn us away if you will. Or aid us. Either way your actions will be known and you will be judged accordingly."

He stretched out the final word, his fingers drumming at the hilt of his dagger as he looked at the Lord of Storm's End without even hinting at possibly breaking the gaze.

"Ravens to Dragonstone and King's Landing and a ship to take us there would bridge the divide between your House and House Targaryen on both sides.", He offered.

Both the Maester and Lady Baratheon leane down to whisper to him, both equally eager to sway him to either of their causes.

The alternative would be making an enemy of both sides of the family, but she still felt uncertainty, even as Lord Baratheon nodded.

"Fine. As soon as the storm clears you may send your letters and then we'll see."

"What of the ship?", She asked under her breath.

That reminded her of something the Maester had said earlier that had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Aemond, why did the Maester say a ship isn't a small ask?", She wanted to know.

As she spoke she had reached out to him in the same way she had done with Luke, her hand brushing his.

Whether it was Lady Baratheon that inhaled sharply, or one of her daughters she did not know, but it drew attention to those few bits of skin that touched, leaving all their eyes wide.

Her cheeks burned with shame as she pulled back, stepping into Luke's shadow.

Aemond's gaze followed her, before he turned to the Maester, requesting he seal and send off the messages himself. It seemed Luke wasn't the only one that mistrusted the man.

After his insurances fell on deaf ears, the maester had to give in.

"I think it is time to lead them to their rooms.", The Maester said, before explaining that she and Luke would stay in the northern tower while Aemond was welcome to stay in the western one and Jaehaera was offered the nursery.

"That will not happen.", Aemond said as firmly as he said it calmly.

"What?", Lord Borros snapped.

"Lucerys will not be parted from his sister, who in turn cares for Jaehaera better than anyone in your halls or service can and I will not leave my niece unattended. Wherever we will stay, we will stay together."

Aemond had not asked, requested or even demanded. Instead, he had ordered. And though reluctantly, they had obeyed.

They were all led to the Northern tower, with three rooms close together. Luke offered to take the attendant's bedroom, adjoined to the big bedchamber, which she would share with Jaehaera, leaving Aemond with the second large one.

Her room is large too, with a fire place and a four poster bed in the corner with curtains to pull shut, but she keeps them open.

There are few windows in Storm's End and the black walled room, despite the tapestry covers of hunt and hunting remind her of the tombs of the first men.

Absentmindedly she plucks at the sleeve of her borrowed nightgown. The fabric is soft against her skin, the lace delicately decorated with the image of wildflowers. But it isn't hers, it belongs to a daughter of Lord Borros. One of the elder ones, probably.

She cannot help but think of Argella Durrandon, who stood against House Targaryen during the conquest. After the death of her father she had called herself queen and her men had turned on her not long after.

They say they delivered her naked to Orys Baratheon, King Aegon's bastard Brother, naked, or in chains, or beaten or a combination of all three.

Perhaps she should find comfort that the Stormlanders fear the dragons.

Not always, a voice inside her head whispered, summoning a memory of a helmet with blackened antlers and a dragon breasted breastplate caved in by a warhammer.

Jaehaera slept soundly, her breathing calm and steady as she held Ser Symeon in a sacred embrace. The first Ser Symeon had protected her from nightmares too and she hoped his successor would perform his duty with equal diligence.

There were only two doors, one led to Luke's bedroom, the other to the solar.

She longed for the comfort of her brother, but the only window, no matter how small, was in the solar.

Feeling suffocated once more, she stepped out of bed and wrapped a woven scarf around her shoulders, before slipping out.

Expecting to have to feed the flames, she was surprised to find it cackling fiercely, the culprit wasn't far away.

~

"Can't sleep?", Aemond asked, his finger running up and down the side of the book he had picked up. It was dull, of hunting routes in the area. Trodding through greenery at the off chance of game seemed a dull, useless passtime to him.

She shook her head as she curled up in an armchair opposite him, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"I'd ask the Maester for something to help me but, well...I can't say I trust him to brew me normal tea let alone an ointment."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Understandable.", He agreed, putting away the book with a sigh.

"I don't trust anyone her either. Anyone but you."

Aemond turned when he heard her amused scoff.

"That's changed since last time.", She said, picking specks of dust from her woollen scarf. When he watched her like that, she presented a vision of tranquility that could almost soothe the current of nerves beneath the surface.

"A lot has changed since last time."

Everything, he thought.

She inhaled sharply and sat up a little straighter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, beside her dragon eye.

It was a work of art, glistening in amber, like molten stone with specks of gold. When it caught the light it seemed entirely gilded at times, or dark as coal on the absence of it. Undoubtedly it presented a mastery of craftsmanship, but at the same time it still was a poor replacement for the real thing, one she had lost because of him.

The price to appease his anger.

"I'm sorry.", He said, speaking into the silence. "For last time."

She huffed, scoffed and shifted.

"I'm not."

Her tone was almost casual. Too casual.

"What?"

She met his gaze unafraid.

"My eye was the price I paid for my brother's safety.", She said. "It was a fair exchange."

Aemond did not see that in the slightest.

"You think I truly would have harmed him?", He asked, unsure of the answer himself.

She looked at him for a while longer than he was comfortable with.

"Only you can answer that, and I don't want to hear it either way. What matters is you didn't."

Now it was her turn to stand and look at the window, running a hand over her hair.

She had braided it to the back of her head, starting at the nape of her neck instead of the crown, causing strands to come loose quicker.

"Not the way your mother used to do it.", He said.

"How do you know?", She asked.

Aemond simply shrugged. "Sometimes I saw."

Those words seemed to drown her in deeper contemplation, as she chewed on the inside of her lip, and when she spoke her voice was faint and gentle.

"Aemond, why were you so cruel back then? To us...to me?", She shifted her weight. "What did I do to wrong you?"

The boy in him could have presented a long strong of insults that were none, aged quarrels she wouldn't remember and excuses that didn't stand the test of time. The man chose to tell the truth.

"You had what I wanted."

She met his gaze for a moment then shook her head. "Most Targaryens without hatchlings claim their dragons later, at thirteen, fifteen or even seventeen. You still had time."

That may be true but there were also many left dragonless. But it wasn't about dragons, not completely.

Deep down Aemond had always known he would have a dragon, or die in the attempt but there were other things he could neither conquer or claim, things that were handed to her and her siblings like cradle gifts.

"Where did you think it went wrong?", She asked. "Between your mother and mine?"

None of them would be foolish enough to deny the cause of their quarrel.

"I think it was always a lost cause, long before Driftmark.", He said though Driftmark was the nail in the coffin of anything remotely resembling kinship.

"That can't be true.", She said softly. "When your grandsire came to Dragonstone, he talked of the friendship between our mothers."

Aemond scoffed with bitter amusement.

"I find that hard to believe."

He had heard the pain his mother experienced at the hand of hers, and the complaints she lay upon them all Rhaenyra in her debauchery and the fruits of her wantonness.

She shrugged. "My mother won't speak of it, Daemon curses at the mention and I am not fool enough to ask."

Daemon...that was a whole other issue, the uncle he had never known, the one whose stories he had listened to in boyhood.

"If they had been friends would that make them more likely to find peace?", She asked, trying hard to mask hopefulness in ambivalent curiosity.

He shook his head.

"Affection turned sour is a difficult thing to overcome."

Impossible was the better adjective.

"Besides, my brother is King. The King's mother does not decide the outcome of the negotiations."

And there was still Daemon to think of too.

She sighed deeply and buried her head on her knees, causing a pang of regret to fill his chest at upsetting her.

"I want to go home.", She admitted, the late hour making her words more vulnerable then they would be in daylight "But I don't know what home I will return to."

"Neither do I.", Aemond said, watching her every movement. "Either way, we'll be home soon."

A part of him longed for it, for Vhagar and his sister, to take his rightful place as their protector and guardian, to be useful again in the grand scheme of things.

He quickly threw that thought. He had been useful in the last weeks, more so than a token. He had found his use out of necessity, in ensuring their survival, in persevering so they had a better chance at escape. Knights were anointed with seven oils, marking them ready for duty. The blood he spilled in Dorne had anointed him for this sacred duty.

But a part of him was scared, with fear lacing the relief of survival as soon as he could see it approaching.

What would become of them once they were home?

They had left the family as tokens to ensure a peace during their negotiations. If they had failed, there would be war, a war that he was not fool enough to believe she would sit out.

He could almost see her in blackened armour, not unlike the one Daemon wore, matching her siblings. His armour, yet unused, had green clasps.

If they had somehow negotiated a peace, it would mean alliances, marriages, betrothals.

Home for her was Dragonstone, with her siblings and mother. She would go to them, or wherever his sister and her husband sent her, to battle or the marriage bed.

Aemond knew her better than to expect anything but devotion to them.

Whatever had happened in their absence, he was no fool to imagine a situation where they would not be parted.

Whether it was the lingering remnants of the duty he had felt throughout these last few weeks when protecting them was his only aim and goal, or something else, he did not care to understand.

As she rose to go to bed, wishing him a good night, Aemond realised that her being parted from his side, irrespective to whoever's will or for whatever reason it was, was intolerable to him.

Imagining her gone sent a surge of terror through his body and the crystal clear thought of her absence seemed like the most horrific thing in the world to him.

She had crossed half the room, close, too close to the door when Aemond unthinkingly grabbed her and pulled her towards him.

It was an act of desperation maybe and fear, of this haunted, cursed place and all that built up fear of all had befallen them since and fear of this inexplicable madness that had spread inside him, infecting his body, his mind, his thoughts and dreams, the madness she caused.

He had grabbed her with the fear of a shipwreck clinging to the one thing that would keep him afloat, the fear of a lost child clutching his last chance at home, a lost wanderer half frozen in desperate hope for warmth. "Aemond, are you well?", She asked.

In that moment, with concern and doubt written all over her face, one he knew better than his own by now, all thoughts and all words deserted him.

It was as if he had never even learned to speak, or as if the words he needed to answer her had never been invented, not in the common tongue, not in High Valyrian or any other speech under the sun.

And because Aemond Targaryen could not speak, he simply did.

~

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

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rendezvous

Chapter 5: After Hours / I Think We Have the Guy

during the few hours after the meetup, kyle gets a troubled tip from a mysterious text and yn gets a name.

wc: 1753 cw: implied alcohol + drug use, mental health stuff, details about the murders (graphic, but not totally detailed) check the series masterlist here! previous chapter

Kyle’s body sunk into his bed, the cold sheets enveloping his dazed state. Only the light from the moon illuminated his room as it gently hit his face. His gaze was pointed to the ceiling, mind full of worry. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes yet. He was too preoccupied and exhausted to do that.

At least today’s over with, right? He couldn’t help it, though, many conflicting sets of emotions washing over him.

He couldn’t sleep over the fact that he, like, almost attacked someone. It goes against what he even stands for. What the hell was that even that for? He knew he was going to deal with someone sick when he approached YN, but he didn’t think that he’d already get looped into the sick shit they did already.

Fuck. Does that mean that only worse was to come for him? He hoped not, but so far this mission seemed to not guarantee anything for him. Would he have to make the first move on YN once more? Is he going to see the borrower again? Would he have to do worse? It hasn’t even been six hours, yet he feels like things are only going to go for the worse.

It’s okay, though. This is all going to be worth it. This is all for the better good. Peace will be restored once he gets his evidence, and he might even get transferred to a better position if all goes well.

…Right?

All of a sudden, sweeping his thoughts off for a split moment, a ping from his phone could be heard. He checked to see what it was—a notification.

April 1, 1:11 AM

??? hi kyle. i’m sure you’re looking for the killer on the letter case, yes? well, you’ve actually already found your guy. it’s me. 

Just because this person messaged you at a time and date that involves angel numbers, does not mean this is your guy.

The letter case is the string of murders Kyle has been solving for the past few weeks. That’s what it was called by locals because each victim had a love letter (unsure if for them) placed somewhere at the crime scene. It makes it seem rather lighthearted when the actual murders were grisly and simply not for the faint of heart.

He was shocked, to say the least. He had to sit there for a few moments. This guy must be insane. He could technically track their location. At least in the morning. Yeah, that’s the first thing he’ll do once he gets to work.

Maybe he was a fake anyway. I mean, there are definitely some sick people out there who’d come out and say that they’re the murderer when they really aren’t—perhaps this guy was just one of them.

??? don’t just leave me on read!!! i know you’re reading this, you were just out a while ago you’re gonna make me reaaall sad if you don’t reply :(

How the hell does this kid know where Kyle’s been? Could it be YN? Maybe it was some who just really lucky at guessing things.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. I guess he had to reply. What would happen if he didn’t? Would another body show up tomorrow? There hasn’t been any indication that the timing of the murders seemed to be patterned. For all he knew, the killer may tend to strike whenever they’re upset.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to know whatever was happening anyway. This might just be some kid, but by the off chance that this is his guy, then score for him.

kyle how can i even confirm that you are the killer anyways?

??? i know things that most people don’t like i know that you’re the guy in charge of the case

kyle i’ve given statements to the news about the status of the culprit multiple times

??? the first victim is a bakery owner the second was her mentee/cousin the next one is a local idol lastly the most recent one is a seamstress

kyle i believe those details have been disclosed as well

??? stop being mean!!! hmph :<

kyle i’m not? i’m just simply stating that the information you’ve provided me with so far is all accessible by the public

??? you leave me with no choice then! i have photos of the bodies

The next thing Kyle received were photos of the bodies, some of them dissimilar to those recorded by the department. Maybe it was one of those journalists? He wasn’t sure.

A few photos seemed to stand out, though. Some of them were photos of the victims  unconcious in the places where their bodies were found. They hadn’t been mutilated yet, though. They were just knocked out.

Kyle didn’t want to put his trust in that person yet. Maybe it was edited? You’re gonna need one hell of an editor to do that, though.

 

kyle i’m gonna need more than that

??? so mean! i didn’t!!!

kyle  okay? look, if you’re some kid trying to be cool, please stop it it’s really disrespectful

??? i’m not a kid dipshit i do have proof clyde donovan is the son of the seamstress he said that he was likely targeted by the killer a few days before his death he was held at gunpoint by me and he said that i wanted to sew a football in his face he thought it was funny at first but after seeing how the dress his mother made was sewn onto her he didn’t find it that comedic anymore

The urge to throw his phone across the room out of fear was tense, almost palpable. Chills crawled up his spine. Why? It’s because the guy was correct.

Kyle had conducted a few interviews with people close to Betsy Donovan when her body was found at the local park. It was a place that she and her family frequented growing up.

Clyde, as mentioned, revealed exactly what the anonymous texter told Kyle. Honestly, if anything, this person seemed to know this situation better than Clyde did himself. The detail about the football thing wasn’t mentioned at all when he interviewed him, or at least he doesn’t remember anything like that. He might have to recheck the tapes later.

This information wasn’t released to the public at all for the sake of the family’s privacy. This fact, combined with the photos, likely meant one thing: he was actually talking to the culprit.

Who was this person exactly? Immediately his first thought is YN. I mean, he is pretty sure that it is her, and she did get his number earlier. Plus, he was just with her and this person just referenced knowing that he was out. Maybe she’s just messaging him through a burner phone. Knowing how much she gets from her borrowers, it doesn’t really seem like it would put a dent in her wallet to buy a few backup phones.

kyle why are you messaging me

??? i want to help you solve find out who i am

kyle aren’t you just endangering yourself then?

??? don’t you want some extra help on your case? i know how bad you wanna take me down

kyle yeah but not like this

??? that’s why i’ve devised a plan for you, detective you receive information from me about the murders and my identity if you follow my requests

kyle i’m not doing that

??? i’m not gonna have you rob a bank dude jeez i’m just gonna ask for small favors

kyle like what?

??? you’ll see do we have a deal though?

⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The blinds were closed, and so your whole room was just barely lit up by your night light. Your body was drowning in the stiff cushions of your couch. Your senses were tingly, probably even hazy. You might’ve had an extra bottle of some cheap liquor to relax your senses.

You were tired, to say the least. Your body was absolutely drained, but your mind still ran endlessly—no matter how much you wanted it to stop. You just wanted to sleep, nothing more, nothing less. Dear, God.

You didn’t like your mind during hours like these. It’s when everything would hit you at once, the surge of emotions sending you to a wave of nothingness. You’d wish it’d be noisier sometimes, but you knew that you couldn’t handle loud things as well. Maybe the quiet is for you. It sounds funny, considering the type of life you find yourself living in, but it’s true.

Scratch that. You were lying to yourself. You’re pretty sure you had about two bottles and a shot in the thigh earlier. 

Your mind drifted off to places you didn’t want to, namely in the house of sympathy. Now that you were thinking about it, you kind of felt bad for Brad. I mean, maybe this is his first serious case, and you might’ve completely traumatized him already. The only “serious” problems this town had were probably as easy to solve as it is making your bed or something. 

Are you right for wanting to toy around with him? Definitely not. Is there anything good that is to be expected from you anyways? You’re not a good person at all. You’re the furthest thing from. You still can’t help but feel a little remorse after seeing the mortified look on his face earlier, though.

In retrospect, when you had to put him through the actual act of taunting the guy with a knife, you just felt awfully mean. You felt like those mean girls who force their “weirdo pet” friends to bully their friends just to see them suffer. How low of you.

What can you do now, though? The plan’s set in place, and whatever damage you have planned out has already been done. There’s no going back now.

You checked your phone idly, hoping to see something, anything to take your mind off of the barren hellscape that is your mind. A text from Bebe sent about two hours ago caught your eye.

April 1, 1:41 AM

bebe hey yn? i think we have the guy if anything i think we have heaps of information

You saw the message and smiled. It’s not that you’re going through this with this plan. It’s that you’re going through with this plan while enjoying it. You piece of shit.

bebe his name is kyle broflovski

next chapter.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #cocogrrrl's rendezvous series

[underratedbitch-number13]

A SPOILER FROM THE SERIES

A very very Happy New Year to everyone on Tumblr. I hope 2023 will bring happiness, prosperity, wealth, and peace in everyone's life. Y'all slayed your 2022, and now you will mega slay your 2023.

A/N: Hello..... ig? I totally abandoned this account for 7 months for personal reasons and i am really very sorry for keeping a lot of people hanging. I am still gonna continue and end the mammon series, if anybody still wants to read it. Thank you very much if you still chose to support me and read my work again, it really means the world to me. I love everyone sm, have a nice day :)

Sometime In Future

Warnings: Mentions of death, war, blood.

If you are sensitive to any of these, please do not read. This could be triggering.

If there's any grammatical error, please let me know, English isn't my first language. Also, this will be in third POV.

Ik this is super short, but again this is only meant to be a small spoier for what's to come

NUMBER OF WORDS :- 612

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☞ Part 1 ☞ Part 2

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♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎

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Simeon woke up with a gasp.

His trembling arms wrapped themselves around his body to soothe his heart which was beating erratically after the terrible nightmare he just had.

Not a nightmare...... but a vision.

A vision of Mammon's death. The next thing he saw was a war, the remaining six demon brothers against the human world. 

Solomon was fighting as well. Up in arms against the brothers.

He exploited his pact with Asmodeus and used him in the fight. When he slowly began losing authority over Asmodeus, he brutally ended Asmodeus’s life before he got a chance to escape.

Asmodeus was not the only victim.

This war between the two worlds had left thousands of wizards and millions of innocent people dead from the human world, and Belphegor and Leviathan dead among the brothers.

The war had been started by Lucifer, again, only this time it was because of Mammon. When Mammon's body had been found in the human world, Lucifer wailed while clutching the limp body of his younger brother. A sight no one could believe.

Not able to come to terms with Mammon's passing, Lucifer had gone berserk, his fury uncontrollable, equivalent to his rage during the celestial war.

Blaming the humans for somehow being responsible for Mammon's death, Lucifer decided to bathe the human world in blood.

Lucifer’s actions were supported by the rest of his five brothers as well. Though, the prince of hell and his butler didn’t. They were the ones who ended the war, taking the humans’s side by subduing the brothers and dragging them back to hell.

It was a war that only lasted thirty minutes.

But it was a haunting massacre that would leave a permanent scar in history.

Simeon’s head was spinning. He didn’t want to recall what he saw, but it kept replaying in his head like a tape.

Visions were not a part of his powers, yet he was seeing one, every night.

It was not just the fear of the war that had clouded his mind, but confusion about a lot of things he saw as well.

All Simeon knew from his vision was that Mammon’s body had been found with his heart ripped out in the human world. But what was the cause of his death? Who was the cause of his death?

How can mere humans, who did not even hold a pact with Mammon, kill an Avatar Of Sin? The second strongest Sin? And wouldn’t Mammon have called for help if he was in serious trouble?

Simeon also couldn’t understand why it took the Demon Prince and his butler thirty minutes to take action. They could’ve ended the war almost immediately or they could’ve prevented it from starting altogether?

There were a lot of unanswered questions in Simeon’s mind, but one thing was clear. His vision was a prediction of the future, and Simeon was determined to do something to prevent it.

He was going to speak to Michael about his visions and also contact the demon butler so that he could confirm a few things.

Simeon had a feeling that something very wrong was happening in devildom. Him and Luke had to return to Celestial Realm for some urgent issues a few weeks ago, and he has not been in contact with anybody except Solomon who is in the human world. He knew, only Barbatos would be able to provide him with the answers he was looking for.

There was no time to waste. Simeon only had two days left.

Before this nightmare manifested into reality, or rather, history re-emerging into present as the nightmare that it always was.

“Father,” Simeon prayed. “Please protect everyone.”

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♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎ ♣︎

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Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Please let me know your thoughts on how you feel about this.

If You Want To Be Tagged For The Next Part, You Can Comment Below

@vera-deville @obeythebutler @macherise @kimpsuwuw @beels-burger-babe @angeladore @rose-lord-of-simps @randomperson46 @depressedsilverloser @ilysia @mammonsturtle @anni1600 @devildomsgod @devilfemdom @leviathans-watching @asmosmainhoe @eternallydaydreaming2015 @gallantys @macherise @unnecessaryshenanigan @mythsofkairos @fandumshippr @keqingsfavbestie @siniy606@nightshadeheart11 @luckyauthorlampknight @gaylords-posts @mmeowxd @of-thegreedgod @veras-fanfic-reblogs @undeaddevildom @scxrletss @devildombimbo @i-passionately-love-angst

#om! angst #om mammon x mc #om mammon #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon fanfic #mammon angst #obey me mammon angst #obey me angst fic #obey me angst #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me fic #obey me belphie #obey me levi #obey me brothers #underratedbitch number13 #tw war mention #tw blood #tw death mention #tw death

[milgramprojectfan]

I’ve decided to begin a series of compiling basic information about the Milgram Project character cases. There will be the who (the victim), the what (murder method), the where (kinda obvious), and the why (motive). No when because…. I don’t feel like it ig

First up, Haruka (but honestly it’s mostly speculation with him so he’s kinda the worst 😭)

Who: It’s not actually confirmed who he killed, but the two main theories are either his twin brother (who may or may not be a representation of his younger self) or his childhood crush(?) who appeared one time and never was mentioned again.

What: Either strangulation, beating (w/ a rock?) or drowning (bc of the heavy water imagery in his mvs)

Where: Like with the who, it’s not exactly clear. There’s a couple places it could be, like that forest in the first mv or that weird room in the second one. I think the forest is more likely tbh but idk. There’s also this weird scene in the second mv where it almost looks like Haruka is found by someone with a flashlight covered in blood so…? Was he caught by police??

Why: His motive honestly could change depending on who he actually killed, but he likely wanted some sort of attention from his neglectful mother. There’s definitely more to his story, and I’m anxious to see what there is.

#milgram #the milgram project #haruka sakurai

[h-worksrambles]

The Arches build 7 is finally public and I just finished rereading the whole game, so screw it. Spoiler heavy rambling about the new update below:

-Howly pulled an Undertale and went meta on us in the best possible way, as Cameron’s reaction to the town allows him to see different possible futures. In short, he beomes a VN player, save scumming between the outcomes of his choices. Oh were you wondering why Arches is the only Echo game without choices? Well here you go! They’re here, but we’re not the ones making them. These games never cease to impress me in how well they take advantage of the medium. - This is even more fitting when you consider Cam’s character arc. Much of Cam’s character conflict is built around his self loathing and the belief that he doesn’t deserve happiness. He’s well on the way to recovering from his addiction, but he still feels deep shame over it. He feels he shouldn’t have survived while his mother died. He escaped an abusive relationship but convinced himself he was just as bad as his abuser. And his relationship with Devon is dogged by a fear of rejection. A belief that he’s a freak who will ruin Dev in some way. And yet, when given that final horrifying vision of his own death in the mines, Cameron chooses to act. He makes the choice to live. -Building on Cam’s visions, it kills me that Cam’s ability allows him to see everything, to understand even the minds of the people that have hurt him. In a series all about fractured psyches and traumatised people trapped in their own heads, unable to relate to reach other, the eleventh hour superpower that ends Echo’s multi-century spannig history of violence and tragedy is cosmic levels of empathy. Call me pretentious, and I get that it’s largely the result of drug addled disassociation, but I think that, as a message, is goddamn beautiful. -Brian’s demise was a cathartic end for such a monstrous villain. I enjoyed Cam’s rumination that spelled out what Brian represents at the end of the day, something I’ve already talked about here before. He’s emblematic of the most harmful kind of selfishness. Of falling into the same loop of self destructive coping mechanisms that make him a danger to himself and even moreso to others. Time after time he chose his own selfish pursuit of pleasure over basic human empathy. He refused to stop moving in circles, and so became a walking symbol of the town itself. And as such, he dies with the town. -The actual fight with Brian was viscerally horrifying. Arches has consistently been perhaps the most suspenseful and dread-laden out of all the Echoverse games. And this may just have cemented it as their scariest game to date. My heart was in my mouth the entire time and Cam’s last fake-out vision left me in a state of almost sickened shock. -Ending things in the mines was such a perfect choice. The place where Brian killed his victims, the place where Flynn died and was swallowed up by the town itself to become the Socket Monster. The place where Mary Applegate and others like her were killed by whatever was lurking down here during the events of The Smoke Room. It’s the place where all of this started when Sam killed Jack. Where the tragedy of the town has kept repeating, and now it’s where it all ends. -Devon and Cameron both come to terms with the people they’ve lost in the past. Devon, who has blamed himself for the death of Lupita, accepts that he can’t keep chasing shadows to run away from his guilt over her death. Fixating on the paranormal nearly got his friend and the man he loves killed. So he resolves not to go in circles, not to repeat the same mistakes. Not to ignore the warnings before it’s too late. And so, he saves Cameron. Cameron comes to terms with his feelings over his mother’s death, and accepts that he loves and misses her. And I love that Arches does this without confirming one way or the other the existence of any kind of afterlife (outside of Echo’s own supernatural influence that is). Chasing after ghosts out of grief was what got them into this mess after all. Instead, it’s really down them to decide how they feel about the people they’ve lost and so make their own closure.

-Just as many of us predicted, Arches delivered on its foreshadwing through the motif of half-circles splendidly. The arch goes from a symbol of Cameron’s inescapable trauma to an image of breaking cycles and moving on. The final scene drives this home.

...He found her arch. And she was right. It did save him...

Arches might well be the most oppressive, suspenseful and intense visual novel Echo Project has made yet. It got so dark that before now I couldn’t blame someone for being exhausted by it. For being worried that it would just be sheer misery right up to the end. But Howly played the long game. He went to dark places, in order to tell a heartbreakingly beautiful story about overcoming grief, breaking cycles of abuse and self-harm, and of the role selfless love can play in helping us become better people. And as a companion piece to Echo, a story in many ways about broken people who struggled to healthily love one another, that feels so fitting. Cameron and Devon are the absolute purest couple. This story has been devastating and terrifying but goddamn if I’m not invested in these two and their love for each other. That final scene was more hopeful than I could ever have dared wish for. Even with the darker implications of Cameron’s final vision. They’ve been through a lot and this is going to leave deep scars but they made it. Together. When that final build comes, I just hope Howly finally lets them rest. They deserve it so, so much.   

#i was thinking about this for days when the build first released #and reading it after the public release has got me thinking about it all over again #tldr please go play arches it's incredible #i can't wait to see the epilogue whevever it comes out #cameron wilson #devon ortega #brian echo #arches vn #arches spoilers #echo project