#hearing curses and commands and powerful moves being used

[cheemken]

I just had this thought. Ain’t no way not a single one of them heard the battle between three legendaries 😭

Real🤣🤣

I think the E4 did, I wanna say they really did hear that battle, but ofc, they were so used to Iris going all out in battles that they couldn't distinguish the difference anymore, she became that violent w battles that the fight between legendaries didn't bother them bc they thought it was just a challenger actually getting Iris to her last Pokémon, leaving her desperate

But also imagine them actually seeing the damage tho, sees the fire, the burnt remnants on the concrete like it was struck by lightning, the ice. And now they're wondering where the fuck is Iris and what the hell happened

They did try to look for her, even going as far as to calling her, and she actually answered and saw her w her friends, and for the E4 that was enough. They thought it was just them being kids and going how their own legendaries could beat the others' legendaries, and seeing Hilbert and Hilda gave them that reassurance that it was. That it really was just a lil battle that went out of hand a bit, but at least no one's hurt, right?

Still blissfully unaware of what happened and what could've happened if N and Hilda didn't came in just in time.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖: Love at first sight

Word count: 3865

Summary: Y/n are oppressed and exploited, her grueling day of endless cleaning is a bleak reminder of her harsh reality. However, when she stumbles into a serene studio and meets Felix, an omega whose scent promises comfort, her world shifts. As Felix reveals Y/n’s true destiny as their last mate, she finds herself torn between fear and hope. With Alpha Chan’s unexpected kindness and the warmth of her newfound pack, Y/n’s journey from a life of servitude to a place of belonging begins, sparking a transformative chapter of love, acceptance, and new beginnings.

Warning: Angst/comfort, abuse, cursing, hate, insecurities.

“Are you done cleaning the dance studios?” a rough voice asked Y/n, causing her body to go still on the floor. She was on her knees, finishing up the last of the cafeteria cleaning. Her body ached, and her arms screamed in pain from the scrubbing and washing she had been doing all day.

“Yes, Alpha,” she whispered, bowing her head and staring at the floor. She despised this situation; she despised him. Her hands trembled with fear as she awaited his command, waiting for him to use her, to dictate her next move like the slave she felt she was. But she could endure no more; everything hurt. She was on the verge of passing out. Exhausted was an understatement.

“Very well then, once you’re done here, go finish up in the studios. Most of the producers have been up and about all day, and their scents are becoming nauseating,” he snarled at her as he grabbed a plate. “I believe you have nothing else to do, hm, pretty girl?” He knelt down and grasped the omega by her chin. All she could do was look at him with disgust and fear. His fingers clawed at her jaw, making her whimper. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for him to violate her as he normally did, but he was quickly interrupted by a group of trainees making their way to grab their dinner.

He huffed in frustration as he quickly pushed her away, causing the girl to knock over the bucket of water she had been using to clean the café earlier. She scrambled away from the raging alpha, fully aware of what he was capable of. “Look what you’ve done!” he hissed. “Clean this up and finish with the studios. I’ll see you later.” He licked his lips as his eyes roamed up and down her body. She stiffened and quickly grabbed the cleaning supplies from the ground. She knew better than to make a scene, as it would attract the attention of the trainees who were now chattering and selecting their meals.

“Pfft, pathetic,” she hears him say before he forces a smile and walks over to the kitchen. Once the coast is clear, she lets out a soft whimper as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She hated every part of this—who wouldn’t? Being an omega was already difficult. They were at the bottom of the hierarchy and treated like objects rather than human beings. They were weaker and smaller, viewed merely as breeding machines, used solely for giving birth to pups for their packs or mates. It was truly horrible to be an omega.

Just like Y/n, many omegas were sold for substantial sums due to their rarity. Omegas began to go extinct when alphas established the largest omega rings, engaging in selling and trading while abusing their power. This exploitation led to the gradual decline of omegas, who suffered from painful subdrops or were outright killed. If an omega was found wandering alone without a pack, it was often the last time they would be seen.

“Breathe, it’ll be okay,” she whispered to herself as she grabbed her bucket and made her way to the studio. She walked through various corridors, ensuring she greeted her fellow omegas who were also working alongside her. Some of them were friendly, while others remained nonverbal due to the abuse they endured underground. The JYP building is enormous, housing a multitude of employees. The omegas knew their routes, focusing solely on cleaning and other duties, working day and night to ensure that all trainees and important idols were satisfied and that no complaints arose. If a complaint was lodged against an omega, they were taken away and never seen again. It is a cruel reality.

The first studio was dimly lit; it resembled the other studios, but this one was designated exclusively for Alphas. The scents surrounding her made her feel uneasy, and her Omega growled in response. However, she knew she had to complete her task or face punishment. She quickly began working to eliminate the overpowering scents of the Alphas, her hands moving swiftly as she hoped no other Alphas would enter. With determination, she successfully finished her work and made her way to the last studio.

She felt weak and exhausted, a fact evident in her trembling knees and chapped lips. She hoped they would be fed tonight, but her mind was spinning, and her inner omega was furious with her. The omega constantly urged her to protect herself or flee, but Y/N had learned to ignore this inner voice, leading to a back-and-forth struggle between them, sometimes resulting in complete silence, which could lead to a subdrop if she wasn't careful.

When she finally reached the last studio, she noticed the sign written on door, straykids, she instantly instantly let out a sigh of relief. This was the only room she could tolerate due to the pleasant They weren't gross or overwhelming like those those in the rooms for the other other groups of idols trainees; instead, instead, aromas aromas comforted At first, first, thought thought was was strange, but she got used used to it, making it one of the rooms rooms she actually actually enjoy. She quickly entered and to clean clean up. No one was inside, which they they all probably probably gone home. she she mistaken mistaken when she heard the door open and close, prompting her to hide behind the couch. Was it an alpha?

“Hello?” a deep voice called, sending shivers down her spine. “Is anyone in here?” he asked again, walking around. His footsteps were light, and his scent was incredibly sweet. Her omega was going feral over it, and she could instantly tell he was a member of the group also an omega, which helped to calm her nerves.

Mate, Mate, Mate, Mate.

What? Her eyes widened as she shrugged off her omega, which did not please her omega, causing her to start going feral.

Mate! mate! mate! Smells so good!

“Stop it,” she whispered harshly to herself, attempting to suppress the cries for this so-called mate. Her heart raced, and her chest felt tight. The room fell silent as she slammed her hands against her mouth, realizing what she had just done.

“Stop what?” The voice startled her, causing her to scream and fall back against the wall. She looked up and saw a blonde man gazing at her with a puzzled expression, almost grinning at the younger omega. “I knew someone was in here,” he said, chuckling. “What are you doing?” He extended his hand to help her up. “There’s no need to hide,” he added, his eyes sparkling as the corners of her eyes crinkled.

She sat up, terrified, wishing the wall could swallow her whole. He was beautiful, with long blonde hair and tiny freckles scattered across his face. His smile was radiant, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened as he let out another giggle.

“I’m so sorry; I was just cleaning. I’ll leave now. Please don’t tell—” she began to panic as she quickly stood up from the corner. If she hadn’t had her patches on, she knew the room would have been filled with her rotting scent.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. I won’t hurt you,” the omega said, standing up from the sofa and raising his hands in defense. “I won’t tell anyone, okay? But are you alright?” Felix looked at the trembling omega, attempting to soothe her by releasing pheromones. He had never seen her before, but his omega was howling and urging him to talk to her, hold her, and even protect her.

"What’s your name?” He stepped forward slowly, extending his hand for her to take. “Come on, I promise I won’t hurt you.” Y/n felt dazed; his scent was both calming and overwhelming. Her omega instincts craved it, as if it were gradually healing her body from its aches. “Y/n… my name is Y/n,” she replied softly, her hand slowly reaching for his.

Felix let out a sigh of relief as she took his hand. Electricity coursed through his veins at their skin. Her omega was satisfied with the contact, and both of their eyes flashed gold. “Well, Y/n, my name is Felix. You have such a lovely name,” he said with a smile. He understood why she was terrified; after all, he was an omega too, and he knew how cruel people could be. Judging by her reaction, he had a feeling she was one of the less fortunate omegas who were targets in this harsh world.

“Thank you. I apologize for you finding me here,” Felix said, looking at the omega with confusion. Why was she apologizing? “I was almost done cleaning, I promise. I’ll head out now; don’t mind—”

“Wait, why the rush?” His hand tightened around her wrist, causing her eyes to land on their intertwined fingers. “I was waiting for Channie-hyung anyway. I could use some company,” he smiled, hoping the omega would stay a little longer. “Would you like a drink? You look quite unwell,” he remarked while analyzing her facial features. She was beautiful; she really was. However, she appeared quite unhealthy, and Felix instinctively knew she was a cleaner based on her outfit and the cloth in her hand.

“I-I can’t; I will get into trouble…” The sound of a drink was enticing to Y/N, but she couldn’t risk getting into trouble again—not after the incident that occurred last time. If she did, she would face severe consequences, or worse.

“Oh, come on, just one drink! I promise no one will find out. It’ll be our little secret. Plus, I have so much left!” he exclaimed dramatically, causing her to smile. That made Felix’s heart skip a beat. “I made you smile, which means you owe me this,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and eliciting a tiny chuckle from Y/n.

Her eyes quickly glanced at the time, and she sighed, realizing that the omega—well, Felix—wouldn't give up. “O-okay. Just one drink won't hurt,” she finally conceded. She hadn’t felt this happy in a while. Even if it was just a little, she couldn’t help but develop feelings for the boy, her omega purring in response. He barely knew her, yet he was so caring.

"What would you like? We have a variety thanks to Changbin-hyung; he loves collecting different drinks for everyone." He squats in front of the mini freezer, sorting through the variety of beverages. "I geuss you wouldn't like anything alcoholic," he says, looking up at her. She quickly shakes her head in response.

“Can I please have a bottle ofwater?” she asked quietly. Something simple yet satisfying.

“Yes, of course,” he said, grabbing a cold water bottle and a fruit bar before handing them to her and sitting down on the couch with his drink in hand. “Here, sit,” he patted the couch. “I promise I don’t bite,” he teased. She gave him a small smile before sitting at a distance and sipping the water. She couldn’t help but moan, earning a look from Felix.

“Sorry, its been a while," she whispered when she noticed the shocked look on his face. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she couldn't help it; the cold water soothed her throat.

“Been a while since you had a drink of water?” he asked, glancing at the omega nervously. What the hell was wrong with the JYP staff team? He questioned. He knew they weren't treated the best but he didn't think it was this bad.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, her eyes fixed on the table as she appears embarrassed. Felix couldn't help but frown; his omega instincts urged him to take her, to nest with her, and to cuddle her until she felt better and looked healthier. However, he knew that for now—at least until Chan arrived—he would have to maintain his composure. He honestly didn’t know how to manage all the emotions he was feeling, and it was evident when the omega next to him shifted and looked at him nervously.

“U-um, Felix… are you okay? Your scent—” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning cake or chocolate brownies; she couldn't quite pinpoint it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, covering his glands with his hands in an attempt to calm down. “My omega is just going really crazy right now.” She gasped upon hearing this. So, her omega wasn’t the only one acting erratically? Was Felix actually her mate? No, that was impossible. She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. His scent sweetened even more at the thought of her being their last mate.

“Cute,” Felix couldn't help but whisper, causing her to turn as red as a tomato. “I mean—” he coughed, feeling his own cheeks flush, “ugh! I’m sorry; I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he grumbled while tugging at his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay, Felix. My—um, my omega really likes your scent,” she says quietly, nervous that he might reject her. “She keeps saying something about…”

“Mate?” he asked, equally shocked by her reaction.

“How did you know?"

“Because my omega is saying the same thing,” Felix says quickly as he sits up with a smile on his face.

“But… it can’t be,” she whispered, looking at the bottle in her hand. “This has to be a mistake.” She shot up from the chair, startling Felix a bit. Was this too much for her to handle? He let out a tiny whimper, afraid she was going to reject the bond. They barely knew each other, and he had already screwed up.

“No, please don’t leave,” he pleads, gently grasping her wrist. “This has to mean something, right? We can’t just ignore it.” She tensed as she sensed another scent in the room quickly looking at the door. An alpha. 

Fuck.

“Felix, I’m sorry I’m late,” a panicked voice entered the room as the door swung open and then shut. Chan looked up from his phone when he sensed the panic in Felix’s scent. He stopped in his tracks upon noticing a girl standing close to Felix. “What’s going on?” he asked slowly while setting down his laptop bag. He growled, disliking the fact that one of his packmates was in distress.

Y/N flinched at his growl, quickly realizing he was the pack alpha. She could tell by his overwhelming scent and the way his eyes flashed a dark red. She gulped hard and lowered her head, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry, Alpha. This is a big mistake. I mean no harm; I’ll leave now,” she said, panicking like a deer caught in the headlights. Her body, unlike before, began to tremble as she hurriedly grabbed her supplies.

“No, Y/nnie, wait! Don’t leave. Let’s talk about this," he begged once more desprate for her to stay. "Chan! She’s our last mate,” he exclaimed, looking at the alpha for help. “I know it! My omega has been going crazy, hyung.”

Shoot me now, was all Y/n thought as tears filled her eyes. Felix had potentially put her at great risk with this alpha. She didn’t know him, and to her, all alphas were mean and terrible.

“Okay…” He takes a deep breath calming down before stepping closer. “Let’s all take a deep breath and talk about this,” Chan said, looking uneasy as he glances back and forth between the two omegas. Felix's hand remained tightly wrapped around her wrist. Chan noticing her work badge. Great she was an employee, he didnt have to worry about Felix's safety for now. “What’s your name, love?” he asks, releasing calming pheromones for both omegas to inhale.

Y/n looked at him nervously, but her body relaxed when his scent reached her. That was when she noticed what he had called her: Since when did alphas refer to omegas as Love? since when were alphas ever nice? Knowing the rules that had been established, she bowed and replied, demonstrating her submission to the pack alpha.

“Y/n, sir…” she says quietly, and Chan frowned at the name she had called him. Sir? Why would she refer to him that way unless… oh, no.

“You’re a ring omega?” Chan gasped, looking at her. He noticed all the signs: skinny, unhealthy, bruised, and dirty.

Y/n’s eyes widened at the mention of the ring, a soft whimper slipping from her lips. At the sound, Chan’s alpha growled lowly in response. Her eyes flashed a vibrant gold as their gazes locked. Chan felt a sharp pressure in his ears, the world around him blurring as an intense heat surged through his body.

Protect, protect, protect.

The chant of his alpha echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing moment until it hit him with a force he couldn’t ignore: Mate.

“Yes—yes, sir,” she nodded, ashamed, while looking at the floor. Felix hadn’t even known this; well, he had his suspicions, as mentioned before, but he thought it might just be related to her job. “I truly apologize for intruding your territory, Alpha. Please don’t hurt me. I will get out of your way,” she slipped her hand from Felix’s grip and bowed to the Alpha.

He smelled different from other Alphas, and the way he was built made her certain that he was a pack alpha, especially with the seven marks on his neck. Her omega instincts were on high alert. She longed to taste him, to beg for him; she wanted to bear his children and care for his pack. Her mind was telling her no, but her heart—and the slick that was growing between her folds—was saying yes. She desired him intensely.

“It’s okay, Y/nie. I won’t hurt you. How about you put everything down while Felix takes you back to the dorms to clean up? Hm? Obviously, judging by the way Felix is acting and how my alpha seems to want to mate and knot you right now in this studio, it means something.” He smiled, pulling Felix into a hug and giving him a deep kiss.

The boy blushes and lets out a whine, “Hyung! Not here.” He lightly smacks the alpha on the chest, causing him to laugh.

“M’ sorry. I just missed you, pretty. Did you have a good day?"

"yeah, we finished up the new dance with minho, he left to go start on dinner," his hands were wrapped around Chan's waist as he softly scented his cheek. "You're coming for dinner, right?" Chan hummed in response, looking back up at Y/n and waiting for her to respond.

Y/n gazed at them adoringly, wishing she too had someone to kiss like that. However, she was jolted from her thoughts when she recalled what the alpha had asked earlier. Going back to the dorms? She would be in serious trouble with the head of staff if he found out. Was she truly their last mate? What would others think of her? What would the six other pack members think? This was all overwhelming, and her anxiety was causing her scent to saturate her patches, making them even itchier.

“I’ll take her to get cleaned up, Hyung. I can’t believe this!” he giggled excitedly. “We have another omega! Han is going to be so thrilled; we can create another racha.” He clapped his hands and quickly pecked Chan, making the older alpha grin at his happy omega. The room smelled sweet with all the joy.

“But… but my job, Alpha. I can’t leave. They’ll find me,” she whimpered, looking at Chan. Clear panic is evident in her eyes as he notices a familiar expression that Han would display whenever his panic attacks would strike.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll talk to them, alright? They can’t hurt you when they know you’re mine.”

Her heart fluttered at that; he had just claimed her.

“Yours?” she asks softly, gazing up at him. He smiles and gradually pulls her into a hug. Initially hesitant, he quickly envelops her when he sees her move closer, aching for his touch, he engulfs her quickly.

“Yes, mine. Will you allow us to take you in?” He asked rubbing her back as she slowly melted into his embrace.

“Yes. Yes, Alpha,” she whispered, but Chan whined at the name again. They would need to discuss that later.

"Oh my days! I'm going to explode with happiness! Y/nie, you're the last packmate!" Felix was literally vibrating with joy.

Her omega was leaping with joy at the thought of finally being free and having a home filled with a pack. She inhaled more of his scent and couldn't help but smile. "I promise not to let you down once I become a part of the pack."

"I believe so. Welcome home, little one. It's been a while," she said with a giggle, covering her face shyly.

“Channie hyung?” Felix calls, pulling Chan out of the hug. He hums in response as he looks at the boy, who is all giddy and happy. “Can I take her shopping first, pretty please?! And to the hair salon and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Lixie. I know you're excited, and you can do all that after you introduce her to everyone.” Felix frowns but soon nods in agreement. “She needs some rest, plus Han would be furious with you when he finds out you went on an omega day out without him.” His eyes go wide before he nods again.

“You're right, hyung! Oh my gosh, I totally forgot. Come on, Y/nnie, we need to get you home as soon as possible!” He snaps his fingers before grabbing his bag.

“I’ll stay back and handle her paperwork, okay? I need to have a conversation with Sanhoo. I'll text the group and inform them about this. Please make sure Minho attends to her wounds,” Chan said, causing Y/n to tense up. She tugged at her skirt, now feeling a little self-conscious about it. He noticed but decided to talk to her about it later, not wanting her to feel embarrassed or insecure.

“Okay, babe, see you at home.” Felix pecks him on the cheek before grabbing her hand and leading her out the door.

“Felix, shouldn’t I drop off the cleaning supplies?” she asks, glancing back at the bucket and the items left scattered on the floor.

"No, I’ll take it." Chan quickly collected the few wash clothes and buckets.

“But sir-”

“I’ll take it. Y/nnie Don’t worry, I don’t want you running into Sanhoo; I promise it's okay,” Chan reassures her. Sensing she was uneasy about the situation, he couldn't blame her. He knew Sanhoo’s job and how he quite frankly made sure to embed fear into omegas. He didn’t like it at all, but there was little he could do.

"Okay,” she hesitated before making her way behind Felix. She was quiet the whole walk down. Felix entertained her by asking her questions and telling her about the pack and all the stories they lived. She was thankful that he was a yapper because her whole life she was isolated.

“Its 8:30; Minho-Hyung has probably cooked really delicious food. Do you like ramen?" Felix asks as they sit in the car. “Oh hi, Mingi!” He beams at the driver, who waves and bows to the younger boy. “This is our driver, Mingi. His going to be around for a while, so you have to get used to him.” He giggled before looking back at the driver. "Mingi, this is Y/N! We just found out she’s in the pack,” he boasts as he lays his head on her shoulder. “Isn’t she so pretty?” He asks innocently, causing the girl to blush and cover her face.

“She is indeed Yongbok; quite a lucky fella, aren't you?” The driver responds, enjoying the conversation with Felix.

“I am,” he says while yawning.

He glanced at Y/N before looking outside the window, explaining the different places and where the best spots are. Y/N listened to his calming voice, feeling safe and settled. Her eyes slowly shut and she felt a tiny kiss on her forehead as she slowly purrs due to the affection, falling into a deep sleep.

✩🍄🌻°｡🧸🍎🧺☘️₊˚🍯

Authors note: Hey! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! please don't forget to reblog and follow. Welcome to my blog <3

Taglist: Open.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Beautiful Darkness

It was hard feeling like an outsider even within the community which was meant to accept you, until someone notices you.

Like always my requests are open!

The world had always feared your powers. They were a manifestation of darkness, something that seeped from within you, an ever-present shadow that twisted and turned, hungry and insatiable. Where others controlled fire, light, or the elements, you controlled something far more sinister. Your power was the ability to manipulate shadows, to bring forth the hidden fears and nightmares lurking in the minds of others. It was a gift, but one that felt like a curse—an alienating force that set you apart from everyone else.

Even at Xavier’s School, a place meant to be a haven for mutants, you found yourself on the fringes, isolated by the very nature of your abilities. The other students kept their distance, their unease barely masked by polite smiles. Even the professors, with all their wisdom and experience, looked at you with thinly veiled concern. They feared what you could do, what you might become if your powers were pushed too far.

And so, you withdrew, hiding in the shadows of the mansion’s grand halls, where your powers felt most at home. It was in one of these dark corners, far from the laughter and light of the others, that Magneto found you.

Erik Lehnsherr was a figure of power and authority, his very presence commanding respect and fear. When he appeared before you, a part of you wanted to shrink away, to avoid his piercing gaze. But another part—the part that had always longed for understanding—held its ground.

“Why do you hide?” he asked, his voice as smooth as steel.

You looked up at him, surprised by the directness of his question. “I’m not hiding,” you replied quietly, though you both knew it was a lie.

He stepped closer, his cape rustling softly as he moved. “Your powers are extraordinary, yet you treat them as a burden.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Everyone else thinks they’re dangerous. Even here, among mutants, I’m… different.”

Erik studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Different does not mean lesser,” he said finally. “It means powerful. It means unique.”

His words caught you off guard. You had grown so used to hearing caution, fear, even pity, that his admiration was a shock to your system. “You’re not afraid of what I can do?”

“Afraid?” Magneto’s eyes gleamed with something close to amusement. “No. I see beauty in it.”

“Beauty?” you repeated, unable to comprehend how someone like him could see anything beautiful in the darkness you wielded.

“Yes,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “You command the very essence of fear, the shadows that hide the truth of the world. There is a purity in that—a strength. While others dance in the light, you thrive in the places they dare not tread.”

For the first time, someone didn’t look at you with fear or disdain. Magneto’s gaze was one of approval, of respect. It was a look that made you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in your life.

“Why do you care?” you asked, the question spilling out before you could stop it. “Why do you care about someone like me?”

Magneto smiled, a small, almost wistful curve of his lips. “Because I have seen what the world does to those it doesn’t understand. I have felt the sting of rejection, the pain of being told you are something to be feared rather than cherished. But power, true power, comes from embracing who you are—even the parts others would reject.”

He reached out a hand, and for a moment, you hesitated. But there was something in his eyes, something that drew you in, made you trust him despite the warnings you had always been given about him.

“Join me,” he said, his voice a soft but commanding whisper. “I can help you see your power for what it truly is—a gift, not a curse. Together, we could show the world that the darkness is just as beautiful as the light.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This was Magneto, a man who stood against the very principles you had been taught to uphold. But in this moment, he was also the only one who saw you, who saw the beauty in the powers you had always feared.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, reassuring.

“I’m not like you,” you whispered, the weight of your choice heavy on your heart. “I don’t want to hurt people.”

Magneto’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Then don’t. But never apologize for the power you possess. Embrace it, control it, and let it be a part of you—without fear.”

For the first time, you felt a spark of hope. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was a way to accept the darkness within you, to see it not as a monster lurking in the shadows, but as something beautiful, something powerful.

[deadghosy]

The Slytherin boys react to you being a telepathic/having telekinesis

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Tom Riddle

Uses you, emotionally abusive.

He has his head press against yours whispering sweet nothings, telling you that you need him. His arms around your waist as his dark eyes look into your own

He also has you as a distraction when he is almost caught doing something he isn’t suppose to do.

If you can read his mind, it’s even better as he would just command you and you would listen to him without you both opening your mouths.

He will soon have a connection to you as he will talk to you through his head.

Imagine just spending quality time with each other as you talk to each other using your mind.

Mattheo Riddle

Your relationship with him is def giving max x eleven from stranger things!!

He thinks you’re fucking cool and wants you to throw someone like how mattheo depulso any asshole in DADA

He holds you hand as he just rants about things and one thought popped into his head as he talks

“They’re so cool!”

Your eyes widened like beautiful stars as you smile softly to mattheo who seemed to look at you softly

And then when you told him your could read minds…he immediately got a little embarrassed but definitely asked if you could read someone’s else mind for afar

Definitely used you to go lift him up a bit.

Draco Malfoy

Asks you a lot of questions in his mind to the point you walked..no you ran from him CAUSE HE WAS CHASING AFTER YOU😭😕🙁

He would let you read his mind, sometimes he forgets tho as he hugged you and you read that he loved how you smelt.

Asks you to use your powers to grab him something that literally afar.

Probably tries to make you read his enemies mind (mostly potter😭)

You one time used your powers to move a chair from under him and he was impressed or happy at all.

Sometimes your mind reading is a curse and a blessing.

Theodore Nott

Immediately starts spamming his mind in a mixture of Italian and English

You look at him confused which made him laugh. But you only shrugged and used your telekinesis to grab a book.

“Cara mia.” He thought as he was walking to the common room you were in. He knew you were in there as he had seen you walk to the Slytherin dorm. “Yes?” You thought back. “I love you.” He thought walking into the room with his charming smile and dead eyes.

Your eyes widen, getting up immediately and hugging him as he rubs your back up and down with one hand.

He also hates your mind reading as he always wants to have a surprise for you, only for you to know it.

He always has to walk away from you so he can plan things

Lorenzo Berkshire

Immediately embarrassed….he doesn’t know how to think other than “WTF? What if they hear that I…” and you immediately cut connections to his mind

You don’t want him to be uncomfortable, but yeah.

If he drops his books, you use your telekinesis but say the word accio. Just so people can’t see you are a wandless person.

He likes to use his mind to talk when he can’t locate you. Helps during battles of course

Loves to talk about things in his head to you when falling asleep

It’s just a sweet concept as he falls asleep holding you

I appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments as well

[lets-try-some-writing]

In your Young Titan Au, I find it so beautiful with the idea of Optimus creating hot spots on a planet he loves (Earth). I wonder what his Titan like powers or abilities could be. Or how he would repel Megs from him when it comes to the buckethead's schemes.

Oooooh okay a request for part two. Gotcha. Previous part here.

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"Decepticons incoming!" Smokescream screamed, bolting down from the half completed outer wall of the developing settlement. Ratchet perked up instantly, abandoning his scans of Optimus's new spark chamber to assess the situation. They knew the Decepticons would find them eventually, but Ratchet had hoped that the false signals they sent out would buy them more time. At least long enough for the budding settlement to complete its outer frame.

"Fortify the walls! Keep the newbuilds out of potential firing range!" Ultra Magnus moved before Ratchet could. The Commander strode forward, the team swiftly obeying him and rushing to stand along the walls. Ratchet cursed as the Nemesis came fully into view. How in Primus's name were they to stand against that? Optimus was still so exposed. His spark chamber wasn't even fully encased yet. All Megatron would have to do was launch one well aimed missile and Optimus would be done for-

"Stay calm. Creator has this under control." Ratchet's spiraling thoughts were cut off by the calming voice of the newbuild who greeted them weeks ago. The newbuild smiled as if nothing in the world were wrong, his painfully familiar optics cycling in relaxed manner as he looked from Ratchet to the skies. He was small still, having not gone through his first reformat yet. To Ratchet, his commentary was beyond foolish.

"You are young, Pax. You don't know what the Decepticons are capable of or what they will do to us if they can get on the ground." Ratchet hurried to his pedes, assessing Optimus's spark chamber again. It was huge, most certainly meant for a Titan. Already Optimus's spark was growing to fill up the basic shell that had grown around him. He had no chamber walls, nor did his settlement yet have more than the framework for what would eventually become buildings. He was completely and totally exposed, his very spark a burning beacon to all who might witness it.

There was no covering or moving him. Optimus was firmly rooted. Yet, the Prime, if he could even be called a Prime anymore, did not seem worried. His spark did not spin in anxiety or stress, instead sending out waves of ease that were completely at odds with the situation. It didn't ease Ratchet a bit. For all he knew, Optimus was blind, deaf, and unaware of the situation. No titans had ever been documented forming in this manner, but it was a well known fact that without a city frame to see and hear through, the Titan was effectively stranded. Especially without a speaker.

Optimus's frame was still forming, having barely gotten anything close to skeleton completed in the form of building framework. He had very few sensors, save for the cables that slithered across the ground, helping to form what would one day become a mighty living city... if they all survived at any rate. The Prime turned TItan needed protection- protection Ratchet could not see the team being able to provide.

There was a reason the Titans of old had armadas to defend them.

"They will kill your creator, Pax. Megatron has a grudge against Optimus that far predates you, and he will stop at nothing to see his rival fall." Ratchet frowned, readying his welder. It wouldn't be much, but when the worst inevitably came to worst, he would fight until his spark went out. Looking at the Nemesis now looming not far away, Ratchet could see Vehicons starting to come their way, with Starscream likely at their head.

"Take the rest of the newbuilds and head toward Jasper. Choose Earth alternate modes and travel until you find a human male named Agent Fowler. He will take care of you after we fall." The Vehicons were approaching fast. The team were ready, each with blasters raised along the wall. But it was not going to be enough. There was no way it could be enough.

Pax, curse him and his similarities to his namesake, didn't so much as twitch as he stayed right by Ratchet's side. The medic could feel his optic twitch in growing agitation.

"I said take the newbuilds and go-!"

"It is fine. Creator has this under control."

Pax cut him off with a faint smile, his finials perking up as if he were observing the weather on a casual walk. He may have been boxier than his Creator, but by the Allspark, he had all of Optimus's attitude before he took the Matrix.

Ratchet wanted to grab the newbuild and throw him. But as the rest of the newbuilds started to gather around, he hesitated. There were perhaps seven at the moment, but they were all stoic, none at all concerned. It set Ratchet surprisingly on edge, especially as the team began to fire at the incoming attackers.

"Pax, please. You and your siblings are the future. You can't fall here." Ratchet tried to plead with the eldest of the newbuilds, but Pax maintained his smile, totally sure of himself. Ratchet looked to the rest, seeing that they were similarly unphased. If Pax wouldn't leave, neither would they.

Loyal glitches.

"Fine. Stay behind me. If the worst comes to worst, you run. Hear me?" He received no answer, but Ratchet readied himself regardless. If this was to be his funeral, he was going to take at least a dozens Decepticons down with him.

"It's alright, Ratchet. Creator is calling for his Speaker. It won't be long now." What?

"Starscream!" Someone screamed, Ratchet couldn't tell who. The next he knew, a blast went off mere feet away from him, forcing him to step back and reassess just in time for one notorious seeker to land where the blast echoed a moment before. Ratchet was unable to get a word in before Pax spoke up.

"Welcome. Optimus Prime greets you." If Ratchet's optics could get any bigger, they would have as Pax and the rest stepped aside, leaving a path to Optimus's very spark. He grunted, rushing to stand in the seeker's way. But before he could, many small but strong arms pulled him back, each muttering something vaguely soothing.

"It's alright, doctor."

"Everything is going to be fine."

"This is part of the process."

Their words did little to calm him, but Ratchet found himself unable to struggle as Starscream stepped closer. He didn't appear malicious, rather... almost in a daze. His optics were wide, his wings dipped and his expression awed. There was not a hint of cruelty to be seen in him as he calmly, nearly reverently, approached Optimus's partially developed core.

Distantly Ratchet heard Vehicons transforming and landing a ways off, the team rushing forward to keep them contained. It meant very little as the seeker came a mere pedestep away from his Prime's very core. The air was so tense it could have been cut with a knife as Starscream reached out-

And Optimus reached back.

The world slowed for a dazzling second. And then, in a mere nano-klik, light came from Optimus and wrapped around the seeker. Starscream didn't even fight back as his frame started to shift. The adjustments were all subtle at first, but the longer the strange connection continued, the more Starscream changed. Power flowed from Optimus to his chosen, and amidst the process, Ratchet heard Starscream speak.

"Why me?"

Then, as if summoned, the newbuilds replied in a choir like tone.

"Because you are the last Prince of Vos, the last to have seen a Titan walk Cybertron's scorched surface."

One by one the newbuilds abandoned Ratchet's side, instead stepping up closer to Starscream as his spindly frame bulked out, bright red, white, and blue taking the place of gunmetal gray. They were all content, especially as Starscream's previously emaciated expression became filled out, fear and confusion changing to acceptance.

"Creator wishes to restore our people, to let seekers rule the sky and grounders roam the earth. He is tired of war... are you not also?" A deep silence echoed, not even the Vehicons daring to speak up as everyone, the team included, watched on. After what could have been a klik or an eternity, Starscream replied.

"Yes. I'm tired of fighting this meaningless war. I'm tired of cowering... I want this all to end." With those haunting words, Optimus's spark flared, his very soul blazing like a newborn star. As it did, Starscream's optics lit up a momentary brilliant blue, and the voice that escaped him was not entirely his own.

"Then join with me, son of Vos. You shall be my voice, and I, your safe haven." Not a word was uttered as Starscream surveyed those around him, his optics returning to their usual red. He looked over his frame, curious, but not upset. Ratchet wasn't sure how to feel, or even if he could feel anything at all as the seeker turned Speaker addressed his Vehicons.

"I... I will not be returning to Lord- Megatron. You may do so if you wish. But I will not fight against this Titan. Not on his or anyone else's orders." Ratchet had to reset his audials and optics, but it changed exactly nothing as Starscream stared at his former subordinates. They all stared back, the team still keeping their blasters trained on them.

Then, as if Primus himself wanted to mock Ratchet for having been worried at all, the Vehicons dropped to a knee, and Starscream smiled.

"That was the correct choice." Starscream grinned, his usual arrogance again rearing its helm as he sneered down at everyone, save for the newbuilds.

"Knockout had the right idea about joining the winning team." The team burst into accusations and various cries of confusion. Ratchet didn't have the energy to bother. Starscream was apparently an ally now, alongside a good half of Megatron's air forces. That made defending Optimus a whole lot easier, if uncomfortable.

Slag Optimus and his cryptic ways.

"See? Everything worked out." Pax, the smug little creature that he was, patted Ratchet on the shoulder. He looked so stupidly pleased with himself and seeing his expression, Ratchet could feel life draining out of his frame.

"My apologies, Megatron. But I will not be returning. I have a new master now, one who has promised me far more than you could ever offer in exchange for my services." Starscream tapped his audial, likely sending a message back to the Nemesis.

On one servo, his presence gave them a fighting chance. On the other, all Ratchet could think about the mech were two simple words.

Slimy glitch.

[jweekgoji]

can u write some Yandere TFO Darkwing x Cybertronian femme reader, who is a miner but Darkwing ends up getting her pregnant and forces her to be his conjux

Yandere!Darkwing/Femme!Reader [TFO]

tw: dubcon, yandere/dark themes, unplanned pregnancy, toxic relationship, supervisor/subordinate, power imbalance, size difference, mentions of past abuse, sickness, description of trauma, hurt no comfort, no happy ending. word count: ~1780 a/n: I wanted to keep it short, but somehow it leads to this. I guess this is for 5 Darkwing fans? imo, he has good himbo potential. also writing for Elita was fun...now i wanna write some Optimus and Elita/Reader fics once i'm done with requests.

How could you let this happen?

The same question runs in your head over and over again. It seems that no matter how hard you try to forget about it, you always see that familiar face right next to yours. Dwarfing you, making you feel so small and fragile. It probably wouldn't be too far from the truth. With your smaller, weaker body, nobody would even notice if you were gone.

You should be used to it by now. Countless cycles of mining, the same routine seems somehow calming despite having no signs of progress in any near future.

Energon, sleep, energon, sleep. What kind of life is that? Was that really all you're good for? Your endless purpose until you break one day?

Primus, why did he make you suffer?

“Hey!” you hear a rough, commanding tone from your captain right behind you. “No slacking off until we finish our job! Come on, keep up!”

You blink once, then another few times, optics quickly concentrating on the wall in front of you. How long were you staring at this wall…? Doesn't matter.

Elita-One gives you a glare; she is too preoccupied with leading her group safe; of course, the mines are too dangerous, and every single wrong move could lead to a series of disasters. You usually have no problems with following her orders, but everything now is just too much. Too much stress, too many orders. You're so exhausted.

Reluctantly, you continue working on collecting energon once again. The heavy equipment makes your frame tremble from the weight; you never once struggled with it, despite the drilling machine being almost the same weight as yours. Now, every single minute feels like a challenge. Focus, focus, focus— you can't just pass out during your work! If it didn't kill you first, then Elita-One certainly would after you screwed her chances of promotion.

You shook your head, as if somehow all the thoughts about the pain—the non-stop aching shooting down your back. It makes you want to bend down and wrap your arms around yourself; maybe, just maybe, it will all go away, and you'll be back to normal.

The soft whirr of your cooling systems gets louder. The poor mechanism overworking itself to cool down your frame. You barely notice how the buzzing sound of the drills seems quieter now, changing into the ringing in your head.

The loud clank of the metal against the ground quickly catches Elita's attention. A frown etched on her faceplate, the immediate ‘...by the name of Solus Prime, what's next?’ she quietly grumbled under her breath, turning her attention to the source of that sound.

Your boss was ready to scold you again, another lecture about the importance of teamwork and how it affects the whole squad—but all the annoyance quickly changes into panic the moment she sees you. Close to falling on your own knees and forehead pressed against the wall as you lean against it.

She quickly approaches you, placing her servo on your shoulder to turn you over so you can face her. Your frame is so warm, no, too warm it's almost burning hot. Your spark beats so hard she can practically feel it under her palm. The signs of sickness are obvious, and she cursed her luck yet again that now she has to explain the situation to the supervisors.

Elita helps you to lean your frame against her own instead, holding her arm around your waist, asking countless questions about what the pit you were thinking, and starting your shift without telling her about your well-being. She's the leader of your group! She has to know everything! It doesn't help with her concerns that you barely say anything, too weak to even open your mouth.

She is so annoyed with you, at everything right now. Great, just great, now she has to— a pause. Her optics widened for a mere second. Elita-One looks down at you with a mixture of confusion and a growing shock. The beating of your spark. Twice as fast, too unusual for any cybertronian even if put under the stress. Her servo reaches to your chassis, hovering over the spot where the spark chamber is. You're sparked up.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Quiet, too quiet, perhaps. The first thing you notice before finally opening your optics. The soft light of the room makes you want to go back to recharging again. Another innocent dream will be a good place to escape the harsh reality, until the slow realization creeps into your mind.

“It wasn't my fault, how could I—” the distant sound of Elita's voice is heard outside the room you were in.

“It was your job to lead the group and make sure everything goes according to the protocols. Just like ensuring that every bot in your squad is in the right shape for work,” you don't have to check twice to understand who it would be. Darkwing.

You can hear Elita trying to defend herself again. After all, it wasn't really her fault. You never wanted to tell anyone about it. But what choices did you have? How can you explain being sparked up? By who?

Now you feel guilty. Shame. She got into trouble because of you, and knowing how hard she worked to reach her position...You're so, so sorry.

You slowly move to sit up on the berth in the...what was this place exactly? It reminds of the infirmary, but surprisingly, any medic is absent today. Ratchet? Lifeline? First Aid? Completely gone.

As the door opens, your optics meet Darkwing's own. It was always hard to understand what exactly he was thinking about when he looked at you. The visor, the battle mask, it seems like every single thing in him has a purpose to make you self-conscious. Nervous and scared. Unlike him, you never had the chance of hiding.

Once you two were alone, he's fuming. He breathes heavily, trying to suppress the anger burning inside his chassis. If you were any other miner, another speck of dirt under his pedes, he would have disciplined you without thinking twice.

But you're no ordinary miner now, are you?

“You hid this from me, on purpose,” Darkwing looks down at you, servos clenching into tight fists. “And this is how I find out about it. Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into?”

The mere idea of him being together with  some nameless miner? Ridiculous. He never planned it to develop into something more. Just a one-night stand, nothing more. He would have forgotten about it by the next day if it wasn't for something, making him think about you since then.

The perfect size, fitting in his servos just right. A tiny toy to play with and use however he wants. A cute one too; isn't this a great deal? The curves, the shape of your frame...if you had a cog, what kind of alt mode would you have? A jet like him? Maybe a car? A boat?

Any other of his fellow supervisors would have left you immediately once they found out. If any bot gets to know about it, he's screwed. Darkwing, who claims to despise every single cogless bot? And now he's having second thoughts about whether he should let you be on your own or...participate?

You lowered your head, as if in shame. There's no fight in you left, not after Darkwing personally stripped you of your dignity. Now the only thing left is a sense of responsibility over that sparkling inside you. You're not even sure if your body can take it. The slowly growing little thing takes up a good half of your energy, and with the energon portions you receive, it is hardly enough for the two. You might die from starvation if this keeps up.

Just standing next to Darkwing is a struggle. You wonder, if he even understands what he costantly puts you through, or maybe he finds some sick pleasure in it. Watching you suffer. Is that what he wants? While you live with the responsibility that he put on your shoulders, nothing ever changes for him. This is so unfair.

You will be no surprised if he drags you to the mines to continue working just to please Sentinel Prime right now.

“Can't even look at me. You miners are only good at one thing,” another taunt. His servo reaches to cup your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

The touch is gentler, not the usual roughness you started getting used to. You learned that whenever he is near you, the pain should be expected the next. That's why it's hard not to flinch every time he gets a little too close. This time, it's something different. Your optics closed, as if expecting a punch, a slap, or another bunch of degrading words?

Nothing.

Trembling in his grasp like some sort of wounded animal next to their predator. Obedient, quiet and timid, the cycles he spent to shape you into a perfect doll to play with. But you're carrying his sparkling, the part of him is soon to be born in this world. It is too late to get rid of it, even though some time ago the sound of it seemed tempting. No, even a useless doll like you deserves a second chance to prove yourself. From some faceless miner, you can grow into something more. Better. A carrier.

He can't let you go back to that place; it would be too cruel even for someone like him to let the carrier of his sparkling to continue this. The best thing is, no one would even suspect you were gone. A tragic event, one of the miner bots neglected their health until it was too late.

Sad, sobbing story, but don't worry, being stuck with your ex-supervisor is not too bad. By the all old rules, it's a shame not to claim a carrier of your sparklings as your conjunx.

“You should be grateful that I have better plans to use you, cogless,” Darkwing's hold on you tightened just for a fraction. To make sure you listen and understand his intentions. No other options but to obey. His words echo in the back of your mind.

The act of profference.

Gifting you a freedom, something you wished for and craved so deeply supposed to make you happy. If only it wasn't the same day you lose it.

[weclassygirl]

bound

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: reader is captured from the comfort of her home to serve the Dark Lord, Morgoth. his loyal servant lures her further into darkness

warnings: some fighting, but nothing really

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: i had an idea in my mind for weeks now and really wanted to write a witch!reader but i’m not sure how it will turn out if i start writing more for it. consider it a one shot for now

The chains dug mercilessly into your neck and wrists, every movement reminded you that you would not be so easily free. You cursed yourself for being so reckless, for becoming too careless, too comfortable in your own home. He needed a healer or so they said when they stormed in the middle of the night and dragged you away from Greenwood. Your body covered in wounds, dried blood clinging to your clothes as they threw you into a cell and laughed as they left.

You were aware of who Morgoth was, how could you not? Forodwaith was a fortress that not many dared to cross into and not many managed to leave unharmed. Every fight, every battle you tended to him, much to your dislike. He nearly killed you the first time you refused and left you unconscious for days from one single blow. The next time you didn’t fight back, you told yourself it would be easier to stay compliant until the opportunity arose and after centuries of waiting it did.

Morgoth was defeated, you should rejoice, then why didn’t you? Years of torment left you numb and still chained in your cell with no light of hope for freedom.

You awaited your end and as the last bit of light shone into your cell you heard it, an orc staggering through the halls, his steps uneven as if he drank too much ale, and perhaps he did. You move to the shadows and wait, your hand lingers by the bars as the orc passes through, one precise cut is all it takes for him to stumble onto the ground.

Your hand holds a bone, carved to a sharp point and for a split second, you think back to that faithful day when it landed in your cell. Months it took you to carve it, your nails broken, your hand cut by the many stones you used to chip away piece by piece at it.

The orc crawls to you but you drive the weapon into his neck, his scream dies as it pierces his throat, you grab the set of keys at his side and retreat your weapon. You unlock the cell and your chains, a breath of relief goes through you as the weight is lifted but your moment of joy has to wait, you’re not free yet.

You toss the orc into your cell and hide him in the shadows, his legs peeking in the light, a small diversion should anyone look for you. You grab his weapons and lock the cell, you step quietly on the stone and hear an orc at the end of the path, you hide in the shadows but they do nothing to shield you from his view.

The orc attacks you and another joins, you stumble back as he kicks you in the stomach and you duck to avoid his blade. Your eyes flash with anger as you cut at his calves and stab him from behind, the other orc receives a dagger thrown at his head, both of them land with a thud. A moment passes as you compose yourself when you hear the orcs coming to inspect the noise.

You do your best to hide and cover yourself with a piece of fabric that was tossed on the floor, a foolish hideout but your mind did not cooperate how you wanted it to.

Morgoth took whatever rational thinking you had left and shattered it to pieces, he prided himself that a Silvan Elf could be so easily broken.

The orcs leave and you walk away as quietly as you can. The halls continue to stretch as you walk down and you hear a voice and chatter of orcs, you realize it’s the throne room but where Morgoth usually stood, another took his place, his most loyal servant. You hear him before you see him as you take a glance from the column that shields you on the gallery.

“For I seek a new kind of power.” his voice commands in the place but you see his hands fidgeting slightly. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world.” you scoff under your breath.

Those were your words.

As you laid in your cage he visited you, a strange occurrence it was as no one has talked with you in centuries. Not a real conversation at least.

“I see why he has kept you around.” he says as he strides towards your cell. The cut that previously adorned his face now completely healed. “No healer of his has ever survived that long.”

You do not answer, your mouth too dry to fire back any response. He had no orders to come to you, his curiosity got the best of him for he knew you were not simply a Silvan Elf, something else resided in you, something that he could use.

“It is not very often that an Elf would separate from their people… I wonder what caused your decision for such an act?” he says and you look up at him, his red hair neatly combed, not a mess you saw after the orc brought him to you.

“Why did you let Morgoth corrupt you?” you ask suddenly and he arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“She speaks.” he responds. “What makes you think he corrupted me?”

“You used to serve Aulë, the very smith of the Valar. How can one turn to darkness so swiftly?”

He waits before he speaks. “Shouldn’t you know?” a breath catches in your throat, for that single question makes you rethink some of your choices. It’s no secret to why you left, you have all but became a whisper on their tongues, a passing shadow.

No respected Elf should dabble in the dark arts.

“You may have reached for it but you do not know how freeing it can be once you let it in completely.” he responds and you walk closer to the bars that separate you. Your hands rest on the cold iron as he steps closer. He takes a longer look at you but you don’t avert his gaze. “You could be free of this.” he taps the chains around your wrists. “You could be more than just a Silvan Elf, cast out by their own.”

Your lips part to speak but he leaves as quickly as he arrived, leaving you to ponder over his words.

Oropher knew you’d grown too accustomed to studying it, your hands reflected it as they grew darker at your fingertips. He saw how quick to anger you’ve become over the simplest things and had no choice but to cast you out. People started to talk.

The balance in his kingdom could not be disrupted so quickly.

Solitude has become your friend in the long years, the trees surrounding you a solace and the spiders crawling over your head an omen for the Elves. They knew you practiced magic, but even the smallest dip into the dark had set the pond to ripple through. The spiders ran down from the north and near the Elvenking’s Halls, leaving webs and plundering the forest ever so slightly.

It’s a few months later when he appears before your cell again. He’s been known to seek you out every now and then.

Morgoth never knew that his loyal servant would spend his time in front of your cage.

You don’t hide in the shadows this time and walk closer. He studies you again, his gaze unyielding as much as yours. Morgoth took his time tormenting you and yet you stand without a trace of any pain, you’ve learned to hide it well.

“Have you come to gloat?” you ask him. He was there as his master placed wounds on your body, carved marks into it to condemn you, should you ever return to the Elves. He shakes his head.

“Believe me, I did not take pride in witnessing it.”

You’re surprised. “Does your wretched soul have a heart?” you ask with a hint of sarcasm. You’d be a fool to believe a word out of his mouth and yet you feel a hidden intention beneath it. “What do you want?”

He places his hands on the bars. “You come rather quick to anger.” he exclaims.

“So you’ve come to lecture me.”

“No, no. I would not dare.” he raises his arms as if in surrender. He lets his hand fall and he grabs your chains, he traces the iron before his fingertips go over the blackened fingertips, you feel a quick sting under your finger and notice he drew your blood. You look at him with a question. After a moment he asks the one thing that has been on his mind. “Have you considered my offer?”

You look down at your hand and the blood as you heal yourself. “Is that what you call it?”

“You and I are not so different.” he begins. “Both lured by the darkness, bound to it whether in this life or the next.” his eyes watch you as you use your magic and he smiles softly. It’s a strange sight coming from him but you suppose it goes hand in hand with his twisted nature.

“I did not chose it. I did not want it.” you lie and make yourself believe in the truth of your words.

“Then how did it come to being in your life, hm? Surely you must have sought it out, any scroll, any passage in a book that could help you understand it.”

“Hold your tongue.” you warn him.

“I think you did want it. You craved it, in fact.” he says and whispers. “You could have the world at your fingertips, within your reach. No Elvenking to ever exile you again.” his voice grows softer as he says it and a part of you wants to believe him.

“You’d make me a tyrant.”

He shakes his head. “No, not a tyrant.” his words are left hanging in the air.

You step closer until you reach the bars, he doesn’t step back. “And if I agree, what then? I’ll have the power of the unseen world but what of the lives of others?”

“It will be in your path to decide what you should do with them. A power over a world you would see fit.”

You laugh and turn away from him. It dies down as you mutter to yourself, the bit of your mind that Morgoth has twisted makes itself known. “A power over flesh.”

He tilts his head as he listens, he knows you could be a valuable ally to his scheme, you simply need a little persuasion. “You’ll be at peace once you let it in.” he leaves you once again with his words echoing in your mind. No use of the dark magic takes toll on your body, even if it’s a quick spell your mind yearns for the familiar warmth of it.

His words don’t leave you for days.

Peace.

Something you haven’t felt in a long time. Could it be the answer?

“Doubt me at your peril.” he says and after a moment an orc attacks him. He stabs him in the eye once, for a split second he observes before plunging it into him again and again until the orc lays dead on the ground. You look down at Sauron as Adar comes with Morgoth’s crown, he looks up at it and his eyes wander to the place where you stand. You hide behind the column and hear the roar of orcs, you look down to see them attacking Sauron, the black blood pools around him and you use the commotion to run to the exit, no orc sees you, no one follows as you run through the land with your feet bare.

You run as fast as your legs are able to take you and a blast from the fortress knocks you down. When you come to it you see the snow and ice surrounding the area.

It came from the fortress. You feel a pang in your chest and hear a passing whisper in the back of your mind. You think nothing of it but a part of you wants to return and see for yourself.

You shake your head from the thought and begin to march forward.

As you walk through Forodwaith you reach a road, despite being miles away from your prison the snow covers all land and now it makes you wonder if it could be Sauron’s doing. You don’t get to think over it as a searing pain goes through your head, stronger than before.

Your knees buckle underneath you as you cradle your head, trying to make the pain go away. You don’t feel the ground when you fall unconscious.

Softness is the first thing you notice as you come back to it. The light shines through the balcony and the curtains flow in the wind, a familiar face sits by the bed. Her voice is muffled in your ears when she calls your name.

“We have all thought you were gone.”

You sit up on the bed as you take a look at Galadriel. You cough and rub at your eyes. “I would not be so easily killed, Commander.” you look around the room and notice the guards at the door. You look to Galadriel and her gaze is sorrowful.

You knew this day would come, Oropher made sure of it that every Elf was made aware of you.

A witch.

An Elf who was seduced by the dark magic. You hide your hands within the long sleeves of your dress. It is then that you notice the torn clothes you wore for years are gone.

You sigh and get out of the bed. “Lead away.” you say and you follow her through Lindon. You see the looks the Elves give you, the whispers where the word “Morgoth” lands on their tongue with such ease.

Lindon is ever beautiful as you remembered. Trees soaring around you, birds flying above you. And yet you feel the sickness that lies upon the land.

You look up as you reach the Great Tree and notice the black veins curling around some leafs. You give a short nod to the High King but his expression is ever so serious.

You dread his judgment.

next part ⇁ visions

[starlightdelrey]

𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐜.𝐬

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲-𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

coriolanus snow x district!reader (use of y/n)

829 words

cw: predator/prey power imbalance, coryo's on the brink of evil, disregard of injuries, chasing, description of injuries, dubcon (kissing)

mostly PG rated

song match: oblivion by grimes

BEING ALONE WITH your boyfriend was a luxury you could barely afford. it seems the only time you two could truly revel in each other's company is in the privacy of the woods - yes, you knew being alone with a boy in the woods was not the smartest decision, but coryo was different.

he was capitol born, turned peacekeeper - and just about the cutest guy you ever saw. you still had no idea how you managed to catch his attention, and keep it, but no matter how hard you begged he never indulged you in why.

maybe he liked knowing he had the upper hand.

you sat against a tree now, letting your frayed skirt splay out on the dirt, digging your feet into a pile of leaves. your head was tilted up, staring up at the sky, and the sun bathed your face in a barely-there golden sheen.

you were so content sitting in the forest that you didn't hear coryo creeping up on you. as he slinked around the tree, prepared to scare you, you're still unaware of his presence.

the feeling of lips on yours causes every nerve in your body to short-circuit, and you gasp, eyes shooting open. you come face to face with a pair of blue eyes, crinkled around the corners in silent laughter.

you pull away, pouting. your hand is on your chest and your hair is wild. "coryo, that is not funny. i just about died!"

he settles down next to you, calming his laughter. "you're so dramatic."

"whatever."

at this, he furrows his brows. he leans in, kissing your cheek, before moving to your ear. "m'sorry, y/n." he kisses your ear, before pulling at your chin and forcing you to look at him. "you forgive me?"

you roll your eyes, before fighting a smile. "i guess."

and he pulls you into a kiss.

you're enjoying the kiss so much that when he gives you the command, you barely register it. you continue to hold the back of his neck (you've seen photos of him with his longer hair, and although you love his buzzed hair, you can't wait to see him with it grown out) before pulling away in confusion. "what?"

"i said 'run'." he whispers against you. you groan, a tired sigh escaping you.

"this again? coryo, can't we just stay here?"

he tugs on your long hair in response, before tickling your sides. "c'mon baby. one round. for me?"

you make a show of getting up and brushing the dirt off your clothes, sighing. "fine. but i get a ten second head start."

"whatever you want, baby."

you lean forward and wait for permission to run.

"and... go! ten, nine..." his voice fades as you shoot off, sprinting out into the woods. your happy your feet are bare, as it makes for less noise and helps you remain nimble.

your blessing is being fast, but your curse is low-endurance - you gain a lot of ground, but soon your breathing is shallow, and your steps slowed.

"y/n!" hearing coryo call for you helps with adrenaline, allowing you to sprint for a few seconds before slowing again. you decide the best thing to do would be to hide, and you look around for a good hiding spot.

a couple hundred feet away is a human-sized bush, and you make to run towards it. as you're running, however, a heavy weight sails into you, knocking you straight onto the ground.

"umph," your knees are skinned by the twigs and your head aches from the impact on the ground. you lift your head, a throbbing feeling immediately arising. you touch your forehead and find a tiny smear of blood, and you groan. before you can get up, the same weight comes down on you, gentler this time.

the material of his uniform rubbing against the torn flesh on your knee burns and you cry out, and coryo takes the opportunity to kiss you.

"got you." he whispers, eyes dark.

"yeah and hurt me in the process." you grumble, but let him revel in his victory.

"lemme see, babe." you show him your knees and forehead, and he offers a kiss on your right knee, but rolls his eyes. "it's barely a scratch."

he pins you down again, kissing you, but the pain in your head is too much to endure. you push him off in pain and annoyance, and he grabs your hand and forces it to the ground. "m'not done yet."

your heart drops. you can barely get him off you and your alone together, where no one could hear you screaming-

"alright babe, i gotta get back to work. you want me to walk you home?"

you nod numbly as coriolanus gets off of you, pulling you to your feet and kissing your head. "i love you."

"...i love you too." you glance up at him with wide eyes and can't help but notice his are still dark.

[pidge-it-up-archive]

Don't ask for permission

Jayvik | 1321 words | Main Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Jayce has a Breakdown Read it on AO3 Viktor had his shirt on when Jayce saw him after the explosion, but not when he's being carried over to the lab in Jayce's arms, which means, something happened. This is my educated guess on what happens from the moment Jayce sees Viktor, to the moment he decides to use the Hexcore to save him.

Relief was short-lived.

Little did it matter that he was conscious again, could breathe, and was alive. Little did it matter that he could articulate his fingers, feel his legs, and move his toes. Little did it matter that he could hear the chaos, taste the blood, smell the dust, and see the light reflect onto specks of it. All was nothing but an insignificant checklist.

He had first worried about Mel, the one he’d held closely in his arms. Feeling her, checking on her. She was okay, she’d said. They were okay. They were unscathed. But then he’d looked around. A new terror at each glance, a new body. He felt for all of them but the first one to stab deep was Cassandra. He kneeled next to her, air escaping his lungs like life had done to her. He did love her, and he would mourn her, but— his eyes kept searching because he was right next to him, he had been right there, so where—

No. 

For a moment, he thinks he curses it. He curses life for clinging to him, curses his senses for working, curses himself for… everything. 

Viktor.

He begs his eyes to look away, to blink and delete the image they just saw. Begs his consciousness to slip away from his reach, for his brain to shut down and lay him into gentle darkness. He begs his lungs to block the airflow, his veins to clog his blood, his heart to stop beating.

Viktor. 

He curses. He begs. He even prays. But it doesn’t matter, because the gods forsake those who try to mimic them. Because what was that, but the ultimate mockery? What was that but the terror and horror to pay for his hubris of trying to access a power that wasn’t his to touch? If he strains his ears, he can hear their laughter in the movement of the rumbles, in the cries of his colleagues, in the cadence of the soldier’s boots on the ground. 

Viktor.

It takes a while for the command to move to go through the fog of his brain, but eventually, it does. He runs. He stumbles and trips, and something hard hits his shin, but he doesn’t registers it, doesn’t care . 

Viktor.

He kneels, hands hovering over his body, scared to touch. He tells himself that it is because he doesn’t want to hurt him, and not because he is afraid to confirm what he already knows. 

Viktor.

He holds his breath as he cradles his face, feeling like breathing would be borderline irreverent, and he allows his fingertips to wander to where they’ve had to hold themselves from touching so many times before. Gods , why does it have to be like this? He has always held back, but… this is the second time already. In one movement, he sweeps soft dark brown hair away from his face, and traces down to curve behind his ear, landing on the side of his neck, feeling the thin skin for anything below it. There’s nothing.

Viktor. Please.

This didn’t happen last time. Last time, he touched him more roughly, led to despair by not knowing what had happened, but the pulse had been there. Now, he tried to keep calm, to treat him gently, because maybe… Maybe, being gentle wouldn’t do anything at all. Maybe, he already knew that, but he did anyway to appease some inner sense of guilt. 

Viktor.

And yet, gently, he removes the rumbles off him — thankfully nothing big — and moves him to the side. It’s only then he throws gentleness in the air, because he cannot be gentle for what he’s about to do. Kneeling by his side, he interlaces his fingers, locks his elbows and presses them on his chest. It doesn’t cave. Oh, his brace.

Please. 

He yells for a knife and doesn’t even know which enforcer or soldier handed him one — he didn’t take his eyes off for one second. He does it fast but with reverence, cutting through the shirt and his vest. When he pulls the fabric away, he freezes, but just as fast he shakes his head, forcing his breathing to not stall and his brain to not panic about the carvings in Viktor’s body. That is for later. He looses the brace and starts pressing. 

Viktor. Viktor. Viktor. 

He remembers the mandatory training for the Academy years ago. Compress 30 times, then 2 rescue breaths. Hard and fast, you can’t be gentle about this, he reminds himself. “I won’t break,” Viktor would have probably said. But he would. And he does. Viktor’s ribs crack by the tenth and he has to fight every single fiber of his soul to not pull back. He has to keep going. He has to. He needs to. 

Please, Gods. 

When 30 comes, he does what he should have done years ago, over soft linen and under warm light— never like this . He tilts his head, lifts his chin, and presses his lips to his. 

Take it, take the air you need. Take the oxygen straight from my chest, I won’t need it if I lose you.

The thought doesn’t scare him so much. It’s true, after all. Everything Jace has become is because of the man under his hands. He had failed to show him that, but it’s true, and he’s not so sure he’s interest in a life without him. He’s nothing without his partner. 

Please, not him. Not now . 

The thought of losing Viktor haunted him from the moment he realized it was a possibility, but nothing could compare to the shredding pain of it becoming a reality.

NO! Not a reality, I’m not losing you. 

He starts compression again; hard and fast, like they said. But another crack rips a sob out of him that nothing in the world could have kept in. He still keeps going. 

PLEASE!

He reaches 30 again. He leans down again. His mind can’t keep thinking about all the ways he should have done this before, of all the ways he should have leaned forward and captured those lips. It would have been so easy. He should have shown him. He should have, he should have, he should have. Then he chastises himself for realizing he’s once again taking his loss as a given. Which he refuses to. 

Come back, let me show you. PLEASE! I’ll fix it, I’ll fix everything. 

He reaches 30 again. He thinks someone calls his name. He ignores them. He leans down again.

I’ll do anything, V. Please, Viktor. Please! Just—

“Come back”. He begs, and he feels it coming out closer to an animalistic cry than a human sound. 

He caves over his body the same way he almost caves into the desperation only helplessness can bring. Jayce wasn’t good at going against what was given to him, after all. He fights because he would never forgive himself if he didn’t. He always tries. But in the end, he listens, even if it strips away part of his soul to do so. But— His fingers run over a rune.

Viktor… 

Viktor wasn’t— isn’t —like that. Viktor is sure of his potential, he knows where he wants to get, and nothing in the world can stop him once he puts his mind to something. He is the reason Jayce understands what true perseverance is like, because Viktor doesn’t accept no for an answer, not when he believes in the benefit of the yes . He had to, or else the world would have knocked him down ages ago. 

Viktor.

Viktor… wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Viktor… wouldn’t accept the gods’ derision, not when he thrived against men’s disdain his whole life. 

Viktor… wouldn’t ask for permission to change the world. 

He sits up, fastens the braces back on Viktor’s body, and takes him in his arms. 

Viktor wouldn’t ask for permission; neither will he. 

He runs. 

[gingerteafairy]

veins of the forgotten (dean winchester x reader)

⟵previous chapter next chapter⟶

tags n warning: blood,violence,kissing,sx tension,flashbacks,guns and all,cursing, grammar mistakes,ANGST!!.word count: 5.7k

“She’s  the witch.”

Dean felt his blood run cold at your words. He felt like the air was stolen from his lungs, and his heart was beating faster than it had in his entire life. He knew you were capable, and if you said she was the witch, he believed you. He glared at the woman, a newfound determination coursing through his veins as he pointed his gun at her.

"Stop right there, you fucking bitch." He warned, his voice low and steady. 

“Oh, shut up.” The woman commanded. “For your information, my name it's Cecilia and I'm here to get my daughter back, you're not necessary. But thanks for bringing her to me in that junk. Have a nice trip.” 

Dean's body felt like it was on fire as he was thrown back hard by the witch's magic. He hit the ground hard, cursing under his breath as he tried to catch his breath. You looked up, eyes going wide in panic at the sight of the witch approaching, your heart racing so fast she could hear it in her ears. 

“You're so tense, darling. Wanna hear a lullaby?” She questioned, smiling warmly. “No, better. Wanna get home so you can eat my cookies? I made your favorite. Choco mint.”

“What do you want?” you inquired, the grip on your cold gun firmer. “Why did you do that to those kids?”

“I wanted to call you, sweetie.” She cooed, standing in front of you pouting. “You never listen to me, I had to do something. And this boyfriend of yours…Jesus, you couldn't choose something better? These Winchesters are lame. They killed dozens of us.”

“They didn't deserve it.” you said seriously, taking a step back. “Those kids you sacrificed.” 

"I know, but you went away for so long and mommy needed lunch, baby" she explained, tilting her head in an innocence that boiled your blood.

"Mommy?" You echoed disgusted, feeling your stomach twist into knots. The curling made you nauseous, it seemed like a sizzle in your head, trying to get in at any cost.

"What... What are you talking about?" He demanded, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke.

“Can't you just shut the fuck up, Winchester?” She growled and Dean felt his breath caught in his throat, his body going completely silent as the witch cast the spell, causing his vocal chords to freeze. “Better. Sorry about the cursing, sweetie. Mommy is nervous.”

“What the hell!” You screamed, crawling to Dean, cupping his head in your hands. “Undo it, you crazy bitch!” You shouted in so much hate that your throat ached.

"Is it manner to talk to your mother?" she shouted back, the simple stomp of her feet made the ground tremble as an earthquake. She flew and took your hair on her hands, pulling it as you cried. “You gotta learn how to talk to me sweetie. I killed all those kids because of you and that's how you thank me? Though leaving you with that bastard could make you learn something.”

You growled, standing tall and slapping her hand. You pointed the gun and shot multiple times, as she screamed, agonizing as the smoke confused her vision. The warmth of the gun contrastic to the coldness of your hand exploded into something more, a rope evolved her body as you bent to her figure, widening your eyes when you saw her cut your rope with huge invisible scissors that came from her hands, giggling.

She smiled, coughing blood, cleaning with the back of her hand as she stood up, approaching your scared being.

“Come on. That’s not how mommy taught you.” She hummed, arranging her beautiful long, jet-black hair. She was intact and wonderful, beautiful in that bewitching glory. 

“How… How'd you survive?” You gulped, stepping back. 

"I couldn't expect anything less from your useless father. Buckley can't even handle his own research without your powers. Let me refresh your memory." She begins, her scarlet lips moving into a tempting smile. “You have to breathe, hold on to that little net in your soul and…”

She hits you, which makes you crash into a tree meters away. You cough up blood, struggling to get up, when you feel invisible, warm hands lifting you up and holding you in place, wiping away your blood.

“Mommy was too quick with that one… Sorry, baby” she whined, crossing her arms when she saw you staggering to stay on your feet, cutting the invisible hands with your own threads. “Look… how beautiful. She’s even learned how to move. Looks like that worthless father of yours taught you something.”

“He taught me a lot more than you did, bitch.” You growled, raising your hands in a twisting motion, watching the woman’s left arm twist like a rag.

“Ouch! You…” She screamed, raising her right arm to strangle your neck and throw you to the side. She stepped, bending to caress your cheek. “That’s not how I taught you, Papilio.”

You widen your eyes. Papilio. The name echoed in your soul like a scream, distracting you and leaving you vulnerable to her next punch.

“Forestis.” You whispered, seeing the older woman freeze in place. Which gave you the advantage to throw another blow, but she dodged and immobilized you, getting closer. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Not Cecilia.”

“Yes, Papilio.” She smiled proudly, touching your face. But you didn’t let it go, biting Forestis’ finger, ripping it off on the floor as you spat. “That bastard made you wild. You bit mommy!”

You howl, landing her on the floor to punch her face. “Stop. Fucking. Saying. You’re. My. Mother.” You paused between punches and slaps, lifting her by the collar of her dark dress. Some words ran through your mind and you instantly knew exactly what they were. The spell to release Dean. 

"You were the most beautiful of all when you were born. The butterflies flew and that's how I named you my butterfly.” she presented as she gasped for air. 

“What…what are you even saying…?” You weep, attempting to stomp her head on the ground, but something deeper stopped you. 

“Your grandfather, the genius.” She continued, couching. “He made me abandon you. Saying your whole existence was a curse that he had to end. So I gave you to humans. I'm sorry for that.” 

"Forestis. No... stay with me. Forestis!" You begged, slapping her face as she insisted on trying to get a long sleep. "Tell me more, I need to know more. Who am I?"

“I'm so proud of you, Papilio.” she squeaks as your lips move to spell the words she was putting on your head, to free Dean from his curse of being shut. “Yes… keep going. Just as I reached you. Just as mommy taught you.”

“Stop!” You shriek, taking his own scissors on her hand to place it threading on her throat, while your grip suffocated her neck. “Stop or I'll kill you.” 

“Bellum” She belly laughed, a single drop of tear sparkling like a pearl ran down her purple eyes. “Te desideravi, cara. Fortis es.” 

You froze, her cold body slipping through your fingers, scissors and ropes disappearing. Then, you remembered those violet eyes staring at you from the crib, the Latin lullaby she sang as you slept in peaceful tranquility. The threads that stitched your clothes, the butterflies dancing in the garden while she hung the laundry with birds and bears. How she spoke through your mind, without a single word, that was how she whispered the spell. Telepathy. You were a witch.

“Quam suavis est esse filiam tuam.”You recited the words, feeling the thick tears cover your face, falling softly onto her serene features, that deep purple, like the amethyst of her tiara. “Mother…I… Why’d you leave me?”

"You were so deeply loved…" she smiled faintly, her fingers cold and trembling as they brushed against your face, yet holding a magic warmth between them. 

“Why’d you leave me with him? Why’d you not take me with you?” You screech, shaking her heavy body. “Answer!” 

 "I hope one day you can forgive me."

The world turned silent as she mumbled a spell and Dean rushed a hammer on the witches neck, her head falling on the dirt. All her thick scarlet liquid flowed to your figure and face. The weight felt in your heart was like an important part of you that had been broken free, as you felt your body being pulled up by his strong hands under your arms. 

“No…” you murmured, as the reality fell on you. “No, no,no, no…”

“Please, calm down.” Dean softly commanded as he involved you in his arms, nestling you. “Look.”

The corpse shone and shone so brightly that it seemed to outshine the very sun, as if the light of day itself had been captured in that single, dazzling moment. It was like a lightning bolt tearing through the heavy, oppressive sky, a flash so fierce it made your heart race with both awe and terror. The brilliance grew until it shattered, breaking into thousands of delicate paper butterflies, fluttering around you in a chaotic swirl. They were the same butterflies she had cut so carefully when you were a child, those fragile, imperfect creations made for a game she promised would never end.

Your mind reeled, overwhelmed by the images—everything, absolutely everything, reminded you of her. You could still hear the sound of her laughter, feel the warmth of her hands, even as she began to dissipate like smoke, drifting away into the air. You reached out, helpless, desperate to hold on to something, anything, but all you could grasp was the fading scent of her, the last trace of magic slipping through your fingers.

A laugh, almost bitter, escaped you. How absurd this was. How cruel and beautiful. She was slipping away, vanishing before your eyes, and yet you couldn’t look away. 

"She's dead, she's dead and I didn't even know her!" you screamed, frenetically moving your body to push back.

He pulled you back, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at him. "I know, I know. I get it. This sucks." 

“No, Dean…you don't understand.” 

“No, i don't.” He finally spoke up, a bitterness laced in his voice. “You could’ve died, and for what? A witch that you didn’t know, claiming she's your mother, she wasn't even there for you in the first place.”

"I know what I'm doing,” you muttered with a broken raspy voice. 

“Clearly not when you have a death wish.” Dean growled, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve died. I can’t let that happen.”

"Why? Why can't you let that happen, Dean? I have nothing to lose." You exploded. "I have no family, no friends, not even a fucking boyfriend to care for me, I don't even have a home now. Why do you care about me that much? It's because we kissed?"

He stared at you in disbelief “You don’t get to do reckless, stupid things like that. “I… I can’t watch you die, okay? I care about you.” He finally admitted in a soft voice. 

"Maybe I wanted to die" you weep. 

Dean froze at that, staring at you as you said that. He took a step toward you, his hands clenched into fists. 

“...I'm sorry..." You stuttered, turning and passing a hand through your hair. “Thank you…for protecting me.”

He felt like broken into a million pieces, he wanted to grab you, to hug you, kiss and say that you were the most important thing in the world for him. Instead, he stopped. Dean didn't want to be vulnerable. No, he wasn't in that position, he couldn't allow himself. But how could he keep this way of being if you existed? If you changed him enough to make him care about something more than his own life. 

“You’re an idiot.” He scoffed, looking at you.

“Idiot. You're so good at making things right." You snorted, taking the dirt away from your clothes and wiping your bloody face as you took steps away. 

“Wait a damn minute, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean asked after you, his brows furrowed, taking your wrist.

"I'm giving you some time alone.” you hissed, pushing your wrist.

“Fine. Go, then.” Dean responded, crossing his arms and scowling.

He stood for what felt like hours til he made his way back to the hotel. He needed a drink, and he couldn’t sit here in silence, not when his heart was racing and he felt so damn worried. He couldn't take it anymore. As he looked around, he spotted you sitting on a bench. He didn’t approach, but rather stood a few feet behind you. He hesitated, trying to think of what to say before he sighed, taking a step forward.

“Hey.” He said simply, not wanting to startle you.

"Came back for more?" You broke the silence, mocking, but you couldn't fool anyone with those eyes and broken voice, not Dean.

He sighed and took another step closer, sitting down on the bench next to you, feeling as an ass. Dean shifted in his seat for a moment before he finally spoke up. “I didn’t mean to yell. Im sorry.”

“You know what's funny?” You began in a bitter laugh. “I thought we were soulmates. When you yelled, I knew it was just my imagination. I'm so stupid…”

“You aren’t stupid.” He said softly, looking at you in the darkness.

“I am…” you gulped, standing up. "Come on, it's freezing here." He stood up with a slight sigh, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. 

You both came back to the hotel, the silence between you heavier than it had been all day. The weight of the fight still hung in the air, suffocating and unresolved. You promptly collapsed onto your side of the bed, pulling the covers over yourself like a shield. Maybe sleep would make things better—at least it would offer a brief escape from the thoughts that gnawed at you.

Dean followed you into the room, his footsteps hesitant, as if unsure whether to approach or keep his distance. He stood for a moment by the door, his eyes lingering on your still form on the bed, before walking into the bathroom. He needed a moment alone, away from you—away from the guilt that ate at him. 

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he stood before the mirror, looking at his reflection with a clenched jaw. His hands rested on the sink, fingers white with tension. He was angry, but not at you. He was angry at himself for being the one to make you cry. He cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling inside him as his thoughts raced. After a long moment, he splashed cold water on his face, the chill momentarily grounding him, and forced himself to breathe. 

When he finally left the bathroom, he moved like a man with too much on his mind—slow, heavy steps toward the bed. He slid under the covers, but stayed as far from you as the space allowed, the tension between you two more palpable than the sheets that separated you. He was careful not to touch you, knowing that any movement might make you pull away more.

You were wide awake, eyes locked on the wall across from you, even though you had no intention of sleeping. The bed shifted as Dean laid down, and you instinctively edged toward the far side, as if some invisible force was pulling you away. His presence, though silent, was too much. You could feel the heat of him across the sheets, even from the distance. 

Dean hesitated, staring up at the ceiling. Then, against his better judgment, he took a chance. He closed the gap between the two of you, carefully resting his hand on the small of your waist. The moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you shivered, and he nearly pulled away, but something in him—something deeper—kept his hand in place.

"Dean?" Your voice was soft, almost fragile, as if saying his name meant you were allowing him back into the space he had briefly lost.

He breathed in sharply, the sound of your voice unraveling some of the knots in his chest. "Yeah, darling?" His voice was low and quiet, the use of the pet name slipping from him before he could stop it. It felt right, though, even as the words left him.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at your lips, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ceiling. You didn’t have the strength to face him just yet, but you couldn’t help but tease, even if your heart still ached. "Good enough to call me darling?" 

Dean blinked in surprise, caught off guard by your attempt to joke. He chuckled softly, the sound warm despite the tension that still clung to the air. "Good enough to call you darling, sweetheart, angel, cutie—whatever you need me to." He sighed, his voice full of sincerity as he rolled his head to the side, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. "I’m just glad you’re speaking to me."

You turned your body then, eyes meeting his, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. It was small, fragile, but it was something. "Are you sure you can handle all this sweet shit?" Your voice wavered just slightly, betraying the sadness that lingered beneath the surface, but you couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood.

Dean’s laugh rumbled softly, and he shook his head, rolling his shoulder slightly. "Darling, I'm the damn reason for all the sweetness. I can handle it." His smile grew a little, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were still full of the weight of his own guilt. "But maybe you can’t."

You raised an eyebrow, the glint of challenge sparking in your eyes. "I could try," you said, settling deeper into the pillow, letting out a quiet sigh. 

For the first time all evening, you let yourself relax a little, the tension in your body easing ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t fix everything right now, but you could at least try.

When you got comfortable, he did the same. He kept his hand where it was - right at your waist. He kept his arm there for a moment, his thumb drawing circles on your side without really thinking about it. 

“Feels good.” you managed, glancing up at him. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the shivering you were feeling by the small touch.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still on your face. "It does, doesn't it?" 

"is that what you do with those poor women you have intercourse?" you mocked, as it could flush your anger away.

He shook his head with a quiet scoff, almost as if the thought of being intimate with anyone except you felt wrong.

"No, darling. The other women... It was nothing like this. You are not like them." He murmured in response, his thumb rubbing the curve of your waist.

You snorted, covering your face in your hands to hide the blush “Oh, god. i thought you were going to say that ‘i fucked them if you're asking””

"No, darling, I wouldn't say something like that." He reassured softly as he moved his hand from your waist, his fingers brushing along the side of your cheek. "I won't bring up the other women ever again. I only care about you." He promised, his thumb running over your cheek gently.

"Is it because of the line that connects us?"

"That line connects us for life." He murmured, biting his lower lip. "And I'm glad you're the person it connected me to."

"you don't match the lover boy vibe." you joked, smiling when you both laughed.

He snorted, laughing quietly. "I guess I don't. I'm glad you noticed.”

"why'd you stop?" your voice, insecure but commanding appeared.

"Why'd I stop what, sweetheart?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed as his hand was still resting on your cheek, just barely touching your skin.

"the little thing on my waist." you chuckled, a grin creeping on your flustered face.

He felt his breath hitch. “Do you want me to start again?" He asked softly, as he started to run his hand along your side again.

"I wouldn't mind" you add, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Well in that case..." His eyes were on your waist, moving his hand to run along your side. 

Slowly and gently, his fingers gliding across your skin under your shirt, tracing along your waistline. He could tell your breathing changed, which just made his own heart race even faster. He watched you, the way your eyes closed, how your chest rose and fell with each breath you took.

“You got eyes like the forest,” you murmured, your voice soft as you slowly blinked open your eyes, meeting his gaze. You searched for the depth of his eyes, your breath catching in your chest. “The forest I grew up in as a child. With… my mother.”

His gaze softened as he studied your face, watching the vulnerability in your eyes. "I bet that forest was nice," he whispered, his voice low and intimate..

 He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, first drifting over the curve of your lips, then briefly meeting your eyes before returning to the soft, inviting swell of your mouth. The weight of his gaze lingered there just a little too long. He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss—the one that had stayed with him long after it had happened.

“The most beautiful of all,” you whispered, the words barely above a breath, your own eyes tracing the shape of his lips. Your gaze lingered there as your heart beat a little faster, the air between you crackling with anticipation.

He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening slightly, something unreadable flickering in them. His hand, warm and steady, found its way to your hip. He traced lazy, absent patterns on your skin with his thumb—gentle, as though testing the boundaries, but it sent a shiver through you all the same. 

“Is it the same kind of beautiful as you, then?” he asked, his voice almost a hushed caress. His eyes never left your lips, as if he could already feel the touch of them on his own.

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your pulse quicken. A small laugh escaped you, soft and breathless, your chest rising with the sensation. He smiled at the sound, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second, before dropping down again, drawn back to your lips like a magnet.

"Is that a laugh, or a yes?" he asked, his lips quirking into a tiny, knowing smirk. The tension between you two was palpable now, and his teasing tone only seemed to heighten it.

You rolled your eyes, a playful but nervous smile tugging at your mouth as you leaned in a little closer. "Shut up," you giggled, your voice a little breathless, the heat between you two making it hard to think clearly. 

He was so close, his breath mingling with yours, and you could almost feel the electric pull drawing you closer.The space between you two was no longer just physical, but it was fleeting, fragile, like something too beautiful to rush, and you both knew that something was about to break. 

He bit his lower lip, his thumb still drawing patterns on your hip."Make me." He teased, his voice barely audible, but with an unmistakable challenge in the tone.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. His jaw clenched slightly as he waited, his gaze never leaving yours, the quiet pressure of his presence making everything else seem distant. 

"Is that your way to ask for a kiss?" you whispered, the playful challenge in your own voice, matching his teasing with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

His lips twitched upward, but there was something darker in his gaze now. “Is it? Maybe I want you to make me shut up,” he murmured, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours, full of mischief and something deeper, like he was daring you to act on the unspoken tension building between you two.

You rolled your eyes, but inside, you were fighting to hold back the desire to close the distance between you. The air between you two was thick now, and you could feel it pulling you closer. Slowly, you leaned in, just enough for your lips to brush lightly against his in a soft, teasing kiss. The brief contact sent a shiver through you, and his hand moved to your waist, fingers brushing against your side, holding you steady as if to keep you from pulling away.

When the kiss ended, you both lingered in the moment, your breaths mingling as you pulled back just slightly, a quiet smile on your lips. He looked at you with an unreadable expression, and then, with a quiet chuckle, he whispered, “You shut me up.”

“I think it wasn't enough to shut you completely.” Dean felt his heart skip a beat when you spoke to him, and he felt a small shiver run through him. He chuckled quietly just barely above a whisper, leaning close to you.

"Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" He murmured, his hand resting still on your waist, his thumb brushing over your waistline slowly and gently.

"I dunno, kiss you again so you stop being a jerk." You provoke.

"A jerk?" He echoed, leaning closer, closing the small gap between your bodies as your chest touched. 

"you heard me, you just were a pain in the ass during the whole trip instead of kissing me." You continued, driving your hand to spare and squeeze his shoulder, like it held your mind in the moment, making sure it wasn't just a dream. “And you’re being a jerk for not kissing me right now.”

"Oh, I'm being a jerk?" He asked, though he was practically begging inside to kiss you again.

"the worst." you purred, humming when your hand touched his face, catching all the little details about his skin. 

His mouth felt dry when you touched his lips, his breathing heavier as goosebumps formed on his arms. "The worst?"

"Just kiss me, Dean." When you finally said it, he felt like he didn't have to hold himself back any longer. 

He closed the distance between them, letting out a quiet sigh when he felt your lips against his once again and your arms around his neck. He pulled you as close as he could, bodies touching as he held you in his lap while he made his best to lift his position a bit, one hand at your waist and the other cupping your cheek. 

When you felt your tongue against his, you just felt like the world was a better place, worth living in. When you broke the kiss, his lips were still parted, his tongue still hanging out a little bit. He stayed close to you,your eyes closed as he breathed in your warm scent, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back.

"i can't help but think i look like a blender when I'm kissing" You commented, chuckling, followed by his giggle. 

"A blender?"  he spoke, laughing slightly at the idea. He kept his eyes closed, breathing you in, his thumb tracing along your spine, touching foreheads. 

“Sadly, this blender wants more.” You cringed at your own sentence, but Dean couldn't resist by pecking your lips softly the way that made your stomach flutter. 

"You can have more, darlin’. You can have as much as you want, as much as I have to give. Everything." His eyes flicked down to where your lower bodies were touching, biting his lower lip as he looked back up at you. He wanted so much more, but flashes of the day came up to his mind, worries on his poor brain. "Are you tired, darling?"

"Oh, this is a tricky one” you giggled, your eyes not wavering from his face as he held your hands, his thumbs tracing over your “i think all the tiring disappeared after our kiss."

He chuckled, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles, his heart beating faster at the feel of your skin. "But you should probably think about sleeping. Can't stay up all night." He added, his head tilting to the side.

You smirked, leaning to whisper provocatively on his lips. He swallowed, his heart beating faster as he felt the warmth of your breath. “Wanna bet?”

"Yeah, let's see how far you're going for this.." The ghost of a smile on his face as he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours as he lay you back in bed. “But you really need to rest.”

“When she left…” you began, smiling as he caressed your cheeks. “I looked at the horizon, dark in the night, and stopped at a pine tree and for an instant, I saw her.”

Dean frowned, placing his elbow on the bed to support his head as you continued the story. “She approached me and I could feel her touch my head, then a flash came into my mind… they were memories, mine and hers, before she left me with Buckley.”

“So the bastard even lied about finding you at the orphanage?” he laughed bitterly, scratching his forehead as he shook his head.

“Not exactly, he found me there, but it was my mother who guided him to it.” you explained, until your gaze stopped on Dean’s orbs. “I think I can do what she did to me.”

“Put memories in?” he asks, feeling your fingers approach his temples and suddenly everything goes blank, until it starts to form a blurry image at first and the focus adjusts.

A little girl in a white dress was happily playing, running through a vast field of flowers. She rolled on the ground after tripping, but it didn't hurt, it was part of that endless fun. It was you, he knew, by your look, by the way you absorbed the magical energy of the place, as if it were yours.

“Papilio!” a cheerful female voice shouted. It was Forestis, dressed in a long white dress that contrasted with her dark hair like the dawn before sunrise, a romantically beautiful sunkissed dark skin. She was beautiful, radiant. Marvelous. The resemblance between you was clear, the magical glow that made you both so charming.

“Mommy!” You shouted, smiling and running towards Forestis who hugged you and spun you around in the air. “I missed you, where were you? Did you come to get me? Grandpa wants to stop playing hide and seek already? I want to see him! Everyone says he’s powerful. He can make an entire person disappear.”

As you shot endless questions, Forestis’ violet eyes filled with tears, swallowing that weight on her throat as he hugged you tightly and stroked your hair, pulling away a little to look into your eyes that seemed purple back then, not the color they are today. “My dear, you’re already 5 years old. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

“Big!” you exclaimed, waving your little arms.

“That’s right, big one.” She swallowed hard, trying to stop her sobs. “That’s why mommy is going to take you to meet someone very special, your father.”

You shook your head “you said that daddy Pax lives somewhere else, in heaven.”

“Yes, but this is another daddy. He’s going to take care of you and teach you a few things while mommy is busy doing other things.” She explained, taking your little hand. “He’s very smart, mommy really likes him.He got eyes as beautiful as the ocean. You like the ocean, don't you, sweetie?”

“But I don’t want to be without mommy.” You argued, throwing yourself at her neck. 

There, Forestis had to gather all her courage to not abandon the mission. Her father threatened to kill you and her if she didn’t get rid of her daughter, promising that you would suffer slowly for days and never see the light of day again. She knew how cruel her father could be. To him, you were nothing more than a bizarre crossing between a vampire witch and a lover of an inferior race. A disgusting bastard, the shame of a kingdom.

“Mommy will come back for you.” She looked at you again, leaning your foreheads together. “It’s a promise.”

Webs wrapped you like a cloak and a deep sleep took over. When you opened your eyes, you were in a cold, white-walled place, sitting in a red rocking chair. Your mother handed several papers to a pale man with beautiful blue eyes, just as the ocean. It was Buckley. You smiled, running to hug your mother who froze at that exact moment.

“Hey, little one.” Buckley bent down to your height. Beautiful wasn't enough to describe him. Majestic was the world. He didn’t have dark circles, a hunched back, or the usual sad look. He was fascinating, just like Forestis. “I’ll take care of you while Cecilia travels, okay? We’ll be great friends together.”

You looked suspiciously at Forestis who had her face turned away, she didn’t want to look at that. Then you smiled at Buckley, she had made you go to his lap and when you looked, she had already disappeared.

“Typical Cecilia. Leaving without saying goodbye.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Shall we go? There’s a lot of cool stuff waiting for us at home.”

The image blurred again, turning dark as you faced Dean back with your watery eyes. “She suffered.” You added, sighing. “Until the last moment of her life.”

“She died with a smile.” Dean corrected, wiping the tears away from your face, planting a kiss in each eye of yours. “She was proud to see that her little girl became a woman enough to kill her.” 

Deep down, you knew Dean was right. She remarked all the time how proud she was, how happy she felt for being with you again. Before you fell asleep, you sent a mental note to the skies. “I forgive you.” and somehow you knew she listened. 

[stayandot8]

Warmth

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: SHE LIVES!!!! Hello :) While I'm unsure if I'm fully back, I came across a photo for inspiration and this came to mind and I wrote it down before it escaped me. So I hope you enjoy it. It's not perfect, but it's been the first thing I've written in MONTHS. So we call that progress.

WC: 557

masterlist

The leaves on the trees had just started changing and the smell in the wind proved it. It was so cold in the mornings that you needed some kind of jacket just to step three feet outside your door. But by mid-afternoon, your jacket had long been disposed of on the back of some chair in your office. And by the time you would leave for the day, you were grabbing for the same jacket, cursing the weather under your breath, praying Mother Nature wouldn’t hear you.

Well, someone had forgotten her overcoat when her boyfriend asked her to meet him for dinner at a street cart outside his building. And not only was she cursing the weather, but Mother Nature herself for even thinking up the idea of starkly different temperatures in a single day. 

I could hear the vendor yelling at a kid for dropping merchandise on the ground, something about the little one paying for messing with her cart. I quickly shuffled off my bench to the little boy’s aide. 

“I’m sorry madam, but he didn’t mean any harm. How much does he owe you?” I said as I started pulling out my wallet. The young boy had scampered off somewhere. The woman scoffed at me and waved me off, back to her paying customers and leaving me to stand there, staring at the place where the woman had just been. 

“Best put that wallet away or someone will steal it.” A familiar voice from behind me jarred me from my stupor. 

“I swear, that’s the last time I offer to help a youngin.” Chan’s eyes crinkled while he laughed and took my hand. 

“Agh! Your hands are so cold, jagi! Where’s your coat? It’s freezing out here.” He enveloped my hands in both of his, exhaling long, warming breaths into them while he dragged me to stand in the line. “Here, let’s do this.” He wrapped my arms around his waist under his flannel and pulled me close. His warmth seeped into my chilled veins. He was known for being a furnace when we slept together, but now his warmth was used to melt the ice cube I had become while waiting for him. My shoulders instantly relaxed, the crease in my brow was now flat. I tucked my head into his chest. His cologne had filled my nostrils and flooded my brain, soothing the deepest parts of trouble. He always had this effect on me, one word, one move, one text from him could soothe any tension from the day that had built up. 

Chan had this power about him, a command that all living things seemed in tune to. If he wanted you to listen, you did. If he wanted you to talk, you would. But even in the silence, his actions were loud enough for him that words weren’t necessary. 

Quite literally, I melted into him.The full force of me didn’t surprise him. He just pulled me impossibly closer and rested his cheek on my hair. 

“You would think with so many muscles you wouldn’t be this squishy.” I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled. 

“I’m glad to hear that…I think.” He said. After a moment his voice questioned. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.” I said as I nuzzled closer. “A very good thing.”

[lacontroller1991]

Fluff/WhumpTOBER Day 7: Nick Valentine

Day 7: Hoodie Weather/Only For Emergencies Masterlist Warnings: 18+, gun wound, guns, blood, language Word Count: 757

“Shit!” You duck behind a barrier, bullets whizzing past you as you reload your gun. Quincy would be fine, Preston said. All the gunners should be gone by now. You should’ve known that they would still be there. The Gunners are thorough. They’re not just going to leave a spot because of one battle. “This is the last time I’m doing these damn stupid ops for Garvey. Maybe he should be the one doing this shit!” You complain out loud along with the sound of gun fire and curses.

“I hear ya doll,” Nick replies, gun in hand and aiming at the enemy, taking them down slowly but surely. “He could’ve at least sent us with an army.”

“You’re dead meat, little girl!” You peer over the barrier, raising your gun and firing, hitting a gunner between their eyes, silently thanking MacCready for his aiming lessons. Quickly surveying the field, you spot an alcove. Before you can tell Nick, you bolt to the building, ignoring Nick’s shouts and a fire burning in your leg. Skidding to halt, you plop down onto one knee and swap your handgun for your rifle, peering through the scope and taking out one of the gunners on the bridge.

“(Y/N).” You can vaguely hear Nick over the sound of blood rushing in your ear as you line up for another shot, only for your gun to be lowered and for you being dragged away.

“Valentine, what the fuck?” You want to yell at him. You had a perfectly good shot and he ruined it, and you swear to God if it comes back to bite you and him in the ass, you’ll drop into the Institute with Nick in tow. Nick doesn’t acknowledge you aside from taking the gun out of your hand and digging through your pack, pulling out a stimpak. “Nick, don’t use that, I don’t need it.”

“Like hell you do.” His hands move to your pants and drag them down your thighs.

“Nick what the actual fuck?” You try to resist, your eyes staying alert for stray gunfire, but him and his synth strength is far stronger than you. With one hand holding you down, his other hand reaches for the stimpak. “No, don’t use that. That’s only for emergencies and I’m fine.” He jabs the needle into your thigh as you let out a cuss in response.

“You’ve been shot. This IS an emergency.” You finally look down to your leg to see where his hand holds a stimpak near the sight of a gunshot, of a large gunshot.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You were reckless.”

“We don’t have time to argue about this.” You reach for your gun again, the stimpak flowing through your blood, but Nick keeps you still.

“We’ve got reinforcements. Just sit tight for crying out loud.” You grumble in response but complying with the older synth. He keeps his body over you, hands on his gun while he scopes for any stragglers. When the gunfire stops, Nick peers his head up, spotting Danse standing there in power armor, but Preston nowhere to be seen.  “Come on doll.” Nick helps you to your feet, handing you your weapons as he throws one of your arms over his shoulders, one of his own wrapping around your body and keeping you pressed into him as you approach the newer synth. “Danse. Came in at a helluva time.”

“Valentine. What’s the damage?” He nods in your direction as you smile at your friend. 

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with a stimpak. Where is everyone?”

“Garvey got word from one of the soldiers and sent me for back up with a few others.” You look around the place and notice a heavier presence of your soldiers.

“Thank you, Danse. You sure saved our necks.”

“No problem, General.” The former paladin stalks off to command other soldiers while Nick helps sit you down on a bench, pulling out another stimpak and injecting the healing liquid into you.

“I gotta say, Preston should be more involved with his fights, not pushing them onto you,” Nick comments, taking a seat next to you as you fix your pants, your head nodding in agreement. 

“Yeah. I’ll have a word with him about this when we get back.” Silence falls over the two of you for a second, the adrenaline finally leaving your body. “Hey Valentine?”

“What?”

“Thank you, for saving me.” Nick smiles, reaching up to ruffle your hair, causing you to scrunch up your nose in annoyance.

“Anytime doll, anytime.”

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 11

A/N: I figured out how to post the full chapter of this thank fuck because this was bothering me!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

.....

The harrowing screams of the Princess Rhaenyra permeated throughout the Dragonstone halls. She had been laboring on hours end, to no avail. Rhaella's eyes flinched harshly at the sound. The wails easily overpowered the council her father was attempting to hold. 

She could not understand it—how a man could ignore his wife's pleas. Each knight and lord sat in their discomfort, however, none spoke to oppose Daemon.

Rhaella glanced at her cousins, both fighting back an outpour of emotions. She thought of her own mother. Oh, how similar the screams were. It was a terror that she hoped to never endure. 

The memory caused Rhaella's voice to lift, with no mind for control.

"Perhaps we should wait for the Princess," Rhaella said. 

All eyes turned to her, some in shock, others in slight agreement. Daemon stared at his daughter for a moment, eyes piercing as if to say, 'Do not dare'. 

But she dared. This simply could not go on. Mayhaps her voice held no weight, but she would be heard. Rhaella's hands slammed down onto the painted table, fire flickering at the action. She had interrupted her father once again. 

No further words were uttered by her. Rhaella stomped to Rhaenyra's chambers. Whimpers and curses could be heard. 

She stood outside the door, unable to move. "Get out!" Rhaenyra screamed. "Monster! Get out!" 

Her mother had said the same. Endless pleas to a child that could not understand the harm it was inflicting onto its mother. 

Rhaella's body slid itself onto the side wall. She could not go in. All Rhaella could hear was her mother begging for her suffering to end. 

"Mother?" Lucerys called. The smell of blood had wafted to Rhaella's nose. Princess Rhaenyra was forced to fight a women's battle—among men. The thought was infuriating.

"Know that my claim passes to you, Jacaerys," Rhaenyra speaks weakly. The line of succession had been made clear. Rhaella could only think how her sister would manage the position of queen. 

Much better than her anyhow. 

"Where is Daemon?" Jace asks with an unlike sternness. 

"Gone to madness,off to plan his war," Rhaenyra mumbled. 

Jace's eyes harden with fury. His jaw clenched tightly, and Rhaella wondered if she had ever seen him like this.

"Leave Daemon with me," Jace said. He marched off with such conviction that Rhaella found herself following him, nearly tripping over herself to match his strides. 

"He will not listen," Rhaella said. Jace glanced at her. "He will." 

The two cousins venture to the table once more. Rhaella stood further away, doubt evident. 

"Let us stop this meeting," Jace demanded.

"Ah, the young prince," Daemon spoke nonchalantly. It did not go unnoticed to Rhaella that she was being ignored—punished. 

"You are needed to patrol the skies of Vermax." It was a commanding tone, one that Rhaella was all too familiar with. But Jace refused to waiver. 

"Did you hear what I said?" Jace spoke once more. Daemon scoffed but Rhaella could tell that he was somehow impressed by Jacaerys's efforts. 

More so than her. 

"You've lost the ability to speak for yourself?" Daemon's words were for Rhaella. If not for the constant screams mixed with flashes of her mother that filled her mind, perhaps she could have formulated a response.

"Leave her be," Jace said, only growing more angry. The two men engaged in a brief stare-down before Daemon grabbed dark sister and walked off. 

"Come, and I shall show you the meaning of loyalty." 

Jace gave Rhaella an assuring glance before walking out as well. 

"Princess, please let us help you!" Rhaella could hear the maids beg. 

But in truth, there was nothing they could do. She needed to remove herself from here, her stomach was beginning to turn. 

Rhaella found solace inside her room. The silk sheets had been done up neatly—not like how she'd left them last.

She tried to focus on the details familiar to her. The imposing brass bookcase was on display in the corner.All the books and maps she could ever want resided there.

Something stuck out from one of the shelves. Reaching to grab it,Rhaella recognized it as a letter.

Aemond's letter.

Her fist shook as she clutched it,as if it would run away from her if she eased her grip. Aemond had not indulged in what was written.

Rhaella's fingers traced over her delicately written name. She could recall how horrid his penmanship was in their younger years,he certainly had worked hard at it.

The thought nearly made her smile,but it quickly faded. Smiling at a time such as this? Perhaps she was mad.

Rhaella did not wish to read it. Not until she could speak to Aemond again. 

Hastily,Rhaella shoved the letter underneath her pillow,hoping that her conflictions would disappear with it.

"Rhaella?"

Baela and Rhaena stood in the doorway,faces sullen. Rhaella recognized the expression.It was one that was etched onto her sisters faces when their mother was dropped into the sea.

Pure sorrow.

"What of the babe?" Rhaella asked,although she was already sure of the answer.

Rhaena's gaze fell,hands clutched at her side. It was especially hard for her,Rhaella was sure. She was the one that saw the blood of their mother pour from her dress.

"She did not survive,Rhaenyra is wrapping her body now." Baela said.

"I see." Rhaella said.

"The funeral is about to take place." Rhaena choked out. She left the room and Baela followed after.Rhaella glanced at her pillow one last time. She would bury Aemond for the time being. He only served as a distraction from more pressing matters.

Walking out from the castle,Rhaella was met with the devastating sight. Her family gathered round stone fixtures that held up the tiny body of the babe. She noticed that her father looked especially withdrawn. Was that his grief making itself known? He hadn't looked that way at her mother's funeral.

A bitter feeling danced around her. Rhaella elected to stand by Lucerys who grabbed her arm for support. Her father had yet again lost an attempted babe. She felt sorry for him in earnest,the princess more so.

Fire was set to the babes frail body and Luke squeezed Rhaella harder. A painful silence rang out in the air.

Tears fell from Luke's face as he mourned his sister. Rhaella was unable to find words of comfort for him. 

Booted footsteps crunched onto the ground,catching the attention of Rhaella. Ser Erryk Cargyll approached the front,in his hand was a satchel.

Daemon placed a hand over dark sister cautiously as the guards drew their own swords.  

"I mean you no harm,brothers." Ser Erryk spoke. He took the liberty of taking a few steps more before bending a knee.Reaching into the bag,he pulled out the gold crown of the old king Viserys Targaryen.

"I swear to the queen." Ser Erryk vowed. Rhaella thought the timing was..peculiar at best. Her father did not share the same opinion it seemed. Daemon took the crown and placed it atop Rhaenyra's head.

Queen of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. Daemon bent the knee for Rhaenyra and soon everyone followed suit.

Rhaella remained standing for a moment. Her stepmother had been crowned. She could not deny the surge of pride that rushed into her veins.

A woman would sit the iron throne through fire and blood. A war in Rhaenyra's name,the concept made Rhaella slightly envious.

Nevertheless,she too took a knee to the soil. Her grandmother remained standing,hardly a surprise to Rhaella–she was the queen who never was.

-------

A meeting was arranged the following day. Immediate lords and maesters that retained loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra were present. The arrival of her grandfather from driftmark lifted Rhaella's spirits slightly,choosing to stand at his side.

All gathered around the painted table,Queen Rhaenyra moved to its head. There was a hesitation intermingled with her confidence,one that Rhaella figured could only come with her position as a woman.

"Wine,my queen." Rhaena offered the cup. Rhaella's lips pursed at the action. Her sister was a smart girl. Queen Rhaenyra beckoned both girls to the table,who opted to stand at the sides of their betrothed.

Silence settled as the new Queen mulled over what her first words would be,everyone was waiting for her command.

"What is our standing?" Rhaenyra said finally.

"We have thirty knights,one hundred crossbow men and three-hundred men at arms." Daemon responded immediately.

No where near the amount that the Greens had,Rhaella knew that much. There was a guard for practically every door in the red keep...subtracting the one whose life Rhaella had taken.

The nausea in her stomach found itself once more.

Queen Rhaenyra thought over her husband's words. She looked around for a moment,eyes searching. She turned behind her,falling onto Rhaella next to her grandsire.

"Rhaella,come." The queen said. She was caught entirely off guard,Rhaella assumed she had been forgotten yet again. Everyone looked to her,expectant as her previous outburst had not been forgotten in a hurry.

The weight of significance hung over Rhaella's head. Her sister had made a defining approach,marking her place at the table,so why not her?

No dragon,no claim to any land and certainly no betrothed...and yet..

Rhaella strode to the right side of the Queen Rhaenyra,cementing herself confidently. This is where she wished to be,she decided. A hand of the queen. Rhaella would do everything in her power to make this known to her grace.

Rhaella fine tuned her ear as potential allyship was discussed. As she concluded,House Arryn would most likely side with them as the queen's own mother was of their lands.

House Celtigar would not deny their old valyrian blood. House Baratheon was up for question,Rhaella had heard the lord there was rather pig-headed,illiterate as well. 

All council members agreed that the Riverlands would be essential for their cause.

"Pray to forgive my bluntness,your grace." One Maester interjected. Queen Rhaenyra was gracious to allow him.

"Your cause owns one that has not been seen since the days of Old Valyria.." The maester continued.

Dragons.

Rhaella wondered if she would ever be free of such talk. It served as a painful reminder of what she lacked.

"The Greens have dragons as well." Queen Rhaenyra stated. Rhaella's mind immediately shifted towards Vhagar,mighty she was. No dragon on their end would have the slightest of chances,save for Meleys or Caraxes.

"They have three adults,by my count." Daemon spoke. "We have Syrax,Caraxes and Meleys,your sons have Arrax,Vermax and Tyraxes."

'It is hopeful at best' Rhaella thinks. The latter three dragons were still relatively young,they barely hunted for their own food let alone seen war.

"Baela had Moondancer." Daemon said. Rhaena and Rhaella exchanged looks. On the out by their father once more,like always.

"Daemon none of our dragons have been to war." Queen Rhaenyra stated. There was a certain tension between them that had hardly escaped Rhaella's notice. Her father,perhaps unintentionally, had been making decisions without her official word.

"There are unclaimed dragons as well as wild ones." Daemon stated,attention turning to his dragonless daughters. Rhaena shifted,head turning away in shame. Rhaella might have done the same at one time,but there was a definite shift – her eyes bore straight into her fathers,unflinching.

"Vermithor and Silverwing." Jace chimed in. Daemon nodded in agreement,emitting a scoff from Rhaella.

"It is high time the two of you find dragons for yourselves." Daemon said. 

"You wish to force a connection for the sake of war?" Rhaella asked. She could feel Rhaena tug on her arm in warning. 

"Now is no time to be rebellious,Rhaella." Daemon scolded.

Her father had nothing if not sheer audacity,but she would be sure to match it.

" I cannot speak for Rhaena." Rhaella said. " Vermithor nor Silverwing are suited for me."

"And neither are any of the many dragon eggs you refuse to take." Daemon mocked. Rhaella clenched her fists,face heating up in embarrassment. He would not understand. There was something tugging at her mind,urging her to search. For what? Rhaella could not be sure.

"What good would a dragon egg do either of us,Rhaena's has yet to hatch." Rhaella pointed out. The statement, true,albeit harsh, caused Rhaena to flinch.

"Perhaps if you drew your attention to that matter and not that of our enemies you'd find success." Daemon said.

"Daemon." Queen Rhaenyra hissed. Her control over the black council was wavering and she wished to return to the matter at hand.

However,Rhaella in her persistent spitefulness made her anger known anyhow. It crossed her mind to bring up Mysaria,but resisted.

"Please excuse me,your grace." Rhaella said,bowing as respectfully as she could. She did not wait for the queen's response.

Back to her room she went,slamming the door obnoxiously behind her. Indignation boiled over inside,uncontrolled. Rhaella shoved the books from her desk,causing a thud to echo. She was hardly done,kicking around pillows and collectables in frustration.

She had completely destroyed her room–it was childish, she was forced to admit. Mayhaps her father was trying to instill a certain lesson,she could add it to the pile of constant confusion she faced.

In the midst of her vexation,Rhaella's hand landed onto Aemond's letter. The urge to rip it open overwhelmed her entirely. It was almost troublesome. How he managed to remain at the forefront of her mind despite everything. For a moment,Rhaella wondered if he thought of her as well. She ached to understand his reasoning; It surely could not have been for Aegons' sake or even his own mothers'. The only conclusion Rhaella was able to conjure was that of some self motivated desire of his.

Rhaella found a small comfort atop her bed,head lolling to the side. Hours passed her by swiftly as she dozed off.

An abrupt knock caused Rhaella to nearly fall off her bed. She had half a mind to ignore the interruption.

"Rhaella,open this door at once." The demand of Baela could be heard. Rhaella sighed;Baela would not ask again. She was met with the faces of her sisters,to whom she reluctantly let in.

"By the Gods,what happened here?" Rhaena asked, looking around. Rhaella shrugged,plopping down onto the floorboards. 

"It was either this or yell at father in front of the entire council." Rhaella stated plainly. Baela rolled her eyes in response to her sister's statement.

"And in your impertinence,I now bear the burden of relaying what you have missed." Baela said.

Quietly,Rhaena began to pick up the things Rhaella had strewn across the room, returning them to their rightful place.

"I assume ravens have already been sent out to allies?" Rhaella inquired. She,in truth was only half interested,but for the sake of Baela and her temper,she indulged. 

"Jace volunteered to relay the message himself." Baela said,slight adoration present. 

"How prince like." Rhaella said. Baela hummed in agreement.

"Luke will fly to Storm's end." Rhaena added. Rhaella's brow furrowed. She could not imagine her sweet cousin demanding the Baratheon lord to bend the knee. It made her smile a little.

"Did grandsire officially declare his allegiance?" Rhaella asked. Corlys's hesitance was all too apparent,leaving her puzzled. The Velyeron bloodline would have been assured with Baela as queen and Rhaena as the lady of Driftmark.

"Yes,the fleets will be at the queen's command.''Rhaena responded. The seasnakes fleets would be properly intimidating,the greens would have no dominion over the seas.

"I do not think the queen will be so quick to war,she shows restraint." Rhaella said.

"She needs to show strength." Baela said,hands clenched together. Rhaena was seemingly finished with Rhaella's room as she sits on the bed.

"The blood on your dress from yesterday." Rhaena said,a growing look of concern etched onto her face. "What happened?

Rhaella's eyes flickered shut as she recalled,as if the event was so long ago. 

"I killed a guard whilst escaping." Rhaella stated bluntly. She had long since decided that the nausea she felt was the prospect of being powerful rather than fear. 

Her sisters gasped in unison. Rhaella thought the reaction was a little dramatic.

"That must have been horrible," Rhaena said.

"At the time it felt right." Rhaella said. She would spare her sisters from the dark details of her true thoughts for the time being.

"Thank the gods you're safe." Baela said. She too took to Rhaella's bed.

The Gods? No,this was her own doing..perhaps.

"Both of you wish to stay?" Her sisters nodded. Although Rhaella desperately wished to be alone,she would not deny them.

Rhaella dawned her nightdress before situating herself in the middle. Baela rolled to face the wall whilst Rhaena settled onto her back. I miss mother." Rhaena blurted out. They all thought it,the memory of their mother had become violently present during Rhaenyra's labors. Rhaella herself yearned for her mothers voice,even if it was for only a moment.

"Rhaena go to sleep." Baela responded after some time. Soon the slowed breaths of Baela filled the room.

Rhaella knew she would be unable to find sleep,like many nights before. Her mind reeled over the possibility of war. How would she fare? Would she be content to be sent off while her family fought? 

Deep down,Rhaella longed for a chance to prove herself a true Targaryen–To find glory though fire and blood. She would give her very soul if need be.

"Rhaella,are you awake?" Rhaena's soft voice whispered. She felt the bed shift as Rhaena turned to her.

"Yes." Rhaella said reluctantly. Rhaena was quiet for a moment,considering her words.

"I saw the letter..it's from him isn't it?" Rhaena said.

"Yes." Rhaella said,seeing no point in denial.

"What was written?" Rhaena said.

Rhaella sighed. If she was to confess anything,she supposed it might as well be to Rhaena. Baela would sooner scold her and Rhaella was in no such mood for that.

"I do not know." Rhaella said. Oh,but she wanted to,terribly so. 

"Still you care for him." Rhaena stated. Rhaella stared up to the ceiling,the dark warping her vision.

"There is something I must confess,but you mustn't tell a soul." Rhaella said.

"I would never." Rhaena assured. Rhaella knew she would not,but required verbal confirmation anyhow.

"The night before Aegon was crowned, I was with him." Rhaella said.

"Oh." Rhaena breathed out. Rhaella forced herself to continue,before she lost all nerve.

"We flew together on Vhagar and we spoke." Rhaella said. A ghost of a smile was present on her face,concealed by the dark.

"I found myself..relating to him,his aspirations." Rhaella whispered.

Rhaena hummed. "The two of you were always alike,I think."

"Rhaena I fucked him, there, in the grass." Rhaella spouted. She continued on before her sister could respond.

"I find myself with little regret of my doings." Rhaella admitted. She was no longer a maiden,purity stripped from her. 

And there would be no god above to return it. 

"And yet,he has betrayed you." Rhaena said. Tears threatened to fall down Rhaella's cheeks.

She knew it. She knew and almost did not care,and the fact horrified her greatly.

"If it should really come to war..I fear–" Rhaella trailed off. She could not bring herself to voice her thoughts. The truth of the matter; She feared that she would be unable to do what is necessary if it came to it.

And she hated it. Rhaella wished to be released from her feelings,to sever the bond between herself and Aemond.

"Do you love him?" Rhaena asked ,to her own dismay, she doubted the fact would change.

"I never wanted to,in earnest." Rhaella said.

"But do you?" Rhaena urged.

Rhaella did not respond. But she needed not to. 

Love weakened her heart.

-----

'Awaken'

Rhaella's eyes flickered. The room was still swallowed in darkness,but this was no dream.

'Leave me.' Rhaella hoped her thoughts were loud enough for it. Her sisters were long asleep,however they did little to ease her anxiety.

'There is much to do,strange one.' It hissed. As if her body worked against her,she crawled from the bed,stumbling slightly.

'Allow my voice to guide you'

Rhaella walked into the long dragonstone halls,avoiding guards on instinct. She found herself outside–The cool air ruffled her nightdress.

"Where am I going?" Rhaella hissed. She was shivering and had neglected to wear shoes.

'To the glory you so desperately wish for.'

Against her better judgment,she continued onwards. Rhaella hiked up to the harsh terrains until her feet were numb. She paused as puffs of air left her quickly. Rhaella took a moment to observe her surroundings. She was on the Dragonmount,some ways away from the castle. One where some of the wild dragons reside.

She was in great danger.

''Explain yourself, devil!" Rhaella demanded. Trickles of fear dripped into her blood.

'You shall walk with death'

A low grumble could be heard from a cave,no doubt from a large dragon.

"Morghon iksos issa pāletilla?" Death is my crown?

Delusional or suicidal,Rhaella could not determine what she was as of yet–perhaps a healthy mix of both.

Droplets of water fell from the cave onto her face. She tried to recall the histories of her ancestors. Dragons choose their riders, and if this one deemed her unworthy then..

Rhaella shuddered,slowing her movements purposefully. Is this what Aemond had felt when he approached Vhagar? From where did he pull the confidence to do such a thing?

Skeletal remains lined the cave floors,causing Rhaella to trip. 

Then she heard growling once more,closer than she would have liked. There,in the shadows an outline of a head could be seen. Tufts of smoke blew from the beast's nose,eyes glowing a brilliant green.

Green. Like the fire from her dreams. It was the Cannibal dragon–a wildly vicious best.

Rhaella was sure this would be her last thought. 

'All power demands sacrifice,you see.' The voice purred out. Rhaella was overcome with a certain dark determination.

It had a morbid curiosity,wishing to see how she would act. 

Rhaella would be the dagger with the wound if necessary. 

She clutched a sharpened rock,slicing her palms swiftly. The iron smell of her blood drifted to the dragon's nose.

"Māzigon naejot issa ''' Come to me' Rhaella spoke confidently. There could be no room for fear nor hesitation,a beast of this caliber would surely take advantage of it. The Cannibals' mighty roar shook the cave,leaving sediments to fall.

If this–entity.. Held a special interest in her, she would be bold in her claim.

"ānogar hen issa ānogar, sagon issa dohaeragon" Blood of my blood,be my help.

Rhaella's fluent valyrian did little to calm the dragon,the roars only increased. An intense heat hit her at once,a sign of incoming dragonfire.

Having no choice but to flee,Rhaella made haste whilst the blood from her palms left a trail.

A furious wildfire followed after her,the aftermath blackened her nightgown. Frustration ate away at Rhaella. The voice had been silent for some time,offering no such help for her.

It was clear this was an act she was to perform alone. How could she entice a wild dragon? She could not be calm,lest she presents herself as prey by mistake.

Rhaella smeared her bloodied hands over her neck and face as she came to a resounding conclusion.

She did not need to tame the Cannibal–she needed to only enter an understanding of dominance.

Rhaella took the risk of approaching a second time. Her sharp violet eyes were fearsome, she held the very resolve of the fourteen flames.

"I promise you chaos,if you'd let me." Rhaella spoke. The Cannibal still stood tall,although his growls had dampmend. 

She inched closer. Rhaella could almost feel the connection. Something about this dragon felt so achingly familiar. His green eyes served almost as a reflection. Perhaps this was the bond her father used to speak of.

"Naenie vali emagon sylutan naejot claim ao." 'Many men have tried to claim you' Rhaella cooed out. The Cannibal was strange like herself,out of place and left to be.

But she was no man. 

Cautiously,Rhaella reached a hand up to the dragon's hardened scales,decorated with cuts and old wounds. 

"Ao mijegindita mirre." You poor thing. Her blood stained the Cannibal's nose as she carefully stroked him with the tips of her fingers. The dragon seemed to reluctantly allow it and Rhaella dared to push her luck further.

"You deserve a proper name,I think." Rhaella mused. The Cannibal jerked from her touch,seemingly having more than enough. Rhaella's mind raked over all the childish names she used to hold the hope of one day calling her dragon.

But the Cannibal was hardly hers,and likely would not be for some time–the thought was more than fine with Rhaella. She had waited this long after all.

"Aegarax." Rhaella declared. He was the first God of Old Valyria,ruler over all. She thought it was fitting. He was not as large next to Vhagar,of course but he swallowed Melyes and Syrax in size.

The dragon,now Aegarax, met her gaze and Rhaella knew she had chosen well. She noticed the bits of black that swirled in his eyes,quite peculiar.

"Lykiri,Aegarax." Rhaella urged. Aegarax seemed to settle,to Rhaella's surprise. 

"Kostilus gaomagon daor zālagon issa." 'Please do not burn me' Rhaella hoped her words were not in vain. It would not be such a terrible way to go,a dragon rider's death.

Rhaella held onto one of the spines,pausing to gauge a reaction. Aegarax let out a small grumble as he puffed smoke from his nose. He wasn't all too thrilled at her touch,she was sure, but as it stood she had not yet been reduced to a pile of ash.

Hiking herself onto his back,Rhaella swung her leg onto the other side. Aegrarax made no movement,paying her weight no mind. The pages of the books she had filled her boredom with could not compare to what her eyes witnessed. His black scales were detailed and thick,Rhaella resisted the urge to let her hands wander,maybe at a later time.

Rhaella readjusted her grip onto Aegrarax's scales,hunching over as she had seen her mother do many times before atop Vhagar. Her inexperience was obvious,even unto herself. She settled onto the slope of the dragons back comfortably. 

"Soves" 'Fly' Rhaella said hesitantly. Aegrarax huffed out,wings stretching slightly. Anticipation bubbled over in Rhaella. This is it. She would at last find herself in the skies as she had always hungered for.

However,it never came. In one sharp movement,Aegrarax jolted,causing her to tumble off his back. The rejection caused Rhaella to smile. He could have eaten her and he did not.

She refused to rush it,despite the looming war. All the beast needed was time and patience.

"I shall return with a dragon egg on the morrow." Rhaella promised. The Cannibal,true to his name, preferred to eat his own. Power required a sacrifice,and she would see to that it would be fulfilled. 

Rhaella returned to Dragonstone,blind with glee.The blood had crusted over onto her brown skin and her nightdress was ruined,but satisfaction surged through her. She carefully closed the castle door. Panicked whispers could be heard from the war room.

Curiously,she peered around the corner–The sight in front of her caused the joy to be instantly killed.

The queen Rhaenyra was bowed over,body shaking with sobs. Her father's face was hardened with fury. Rhaella thought about turning back to the outside. She glanced at her father once more,she had never seen him in such a manner. 

"Father?" Rhaella called meekly. She prepared herself for a scolding at her state. Daemon's head snapped to the direction of his daughter's voice.

"Rhaella?" Daemon took in her state. "What happened to you?"

It was selfish,she knew it but the words left her before she could stop them.

"I went on a walk,I fell." Rhaella stated. Daemon's eye caught the singed fabrics of her clothes. He would address it later.

"Your grace?" Rhaella said,The queen's condition greatly perturbed her.

"Send for your sisters." Daemon commanded. Rhaella moved closer,catching the sight of the letter clutched in Rhaenyra's hand.

"What.." Rhaella's question died on her tongue,cut by her fathers words.

"Lucerys has been slain."

[peachymilkandcream]

For The Glory Of Humanity|Part 8|Erwin x Reader

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, forced/arranged marriage, misogyny, domestic violence, yandere themes/behaviours, violence, Erwin being a (g)rape apologist, power imbalance, age difference, verbal/emotional abuse, murder, sexual coercion, blackmail, etc.

================================================

Levi held onto Evelyn's hips as she worked to serve him. His injury had unfortunately prevented him from preforming at peak physical strength so he had to rely on her lackluster attempts at riding him. The sounds of wet pussy and the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of her were interrupted by his newly installed telephone. It's annoying bells making the Captain curse whoever had convinced him that this was a necessary adjustment into his command.

"What." Was all he answered, hoping his annoyed voice would scare whatever lowly soldier or stupid civilian into realizing he didn't want to talk even though it was the middle of the afternoon.

"Levi. I trust you're not doing anything productive." Erwin. That bastard.

"Actually I'm kind of busy, it's the weekend Erwin. You forget I own your job, the only reason I'm not the one above you calling at all hours is because you have a bigger work load."

"Charming. But that doesn't change that I need to see you. Consider it a social call that I'm ordering you to go on."

Levi rolled his eyes and sighed. "That lonely rotting in that house of yours huh? Fine. I could use some fresh air, I'll be there shortly."

He hangs up and looks at Evelyn, still on top of him. "Don't think you're getting out of this. Erwin can afford to wait. Get moving."

===============================================

Erwin opened the door for Levi, holding it wide as he rolled in. "I thought you were going to physical therapy."

"That shit isn't magic Erwin. It takes time."

"Any progress?" He ushers him into the parlor, taking the liberty of getting him tea.

"I can walk short distances with a cane, but I get tired easily. I didn't want to risk it coming here."

"Mm. Fair enough." He sits across from him.

"So what's this all about Erwin? I know you don't care about me enough to ask me over just to find out how I'm doing."

"You're right, I don't. I care to know if my top soldier is recovering for my own reasons but this in particular is...personal."

Levi raises a brow. "What, you're going to profess your undying love?"

Erwin chuckles. "I would rather get eaten by a Titan. No, I've come to you once again for advice."

He straightens. "Is this about that girl I saw you with?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I've decided to pursue this."

"Congratulations, I'm sure you two will be very happy together."

"I haven't proposed yet. Which is why I asked your advice. Neither of us feel anything for each other, so how do I go about securing her?"

He raises a brow again. "If you don't give a shit about her then why marriage?"

"You knew Evelyn didn't give a shit about you besides as a friend but you still married."

"Touché."

"Good family, good looks, and young. What more could I look for?"

"I see your point. Your best bet is to ignore her completely and go straight to the parents."

"Really?"

"If you go to her there's a chance she'll reject you. Women don't ever know what they want, it's best to just make decisions for them."

"You're right about that."

"I'll tell you what to do. Tell her parents without her knowing that you want to marry her. Offer them money and your reputation, as long as you're confident and demand to marry her you'll get your way. Trust me."

"Excellent advice Levi, I think I'll do just that."

"I look forward to hearing the announcement."

================================================

Miss Blanke entered her house after her lessons at her finishing school. Apparently throwing yourself at the Commander of the Survey Corps was not a socially graceful thing to do. Her parent's had been outraged and set up her classes immediately after. And with the state of the world going back to normal they had started back up again. However now she was grateful, she had a reason to be well-versed in the social graces with her new attachment.

"Come in here dear." Her mother's voice carried from the sitting room.

She followed the sound to see both parents looking positively giddy with excitement. "Mother, father. Good afternoon."

"Oh- I can't hold it in anymore, Henry tell her."

She looked to her father, confused what had gotten them so happy. "Father?"

"It seems your theatrics weren't a total shame to the family. It brought you the right kind of attention that a girl like you could use."

Her heart dropped. "What do you mean?"

"Commander Erwin Smith was by today."

Now her heart beat in her chest. "He was?"

"Indeed. He asked my blessing to marry you."

[ladyofsnark]

Garrus wasn’t jealous.

He liked Lex. He respected her–admired her, even.

And true, he also thought Lex was beautiful. He didn’t have a human fetish, but there was something about her that went so much deeper than appearances. The way she commanded attention. The way everyone turned to look at her. That kind of presence–that power–was intoxicating in its own way. He was cocky, but he knew what to be cocky about. He knew his strengths and played to them. Lex played to everything and anything with a devastating amount of self-assuredness. Or suicidality. It was hard to tell sometimes.

He glanced back out the windows that looked down into the shuttle bay. They’d created a makeshift firing range there to test their weapons and help the team blow off steam in between missions and long stints at the Citadel. It was Kelly's idea, since half of the ground team needed anger management lessons and this was as close as they would get.

There was no real danger to it. Nothing short of actual AA guns could pierce the Normandy's hull and they used soft-polymer rounds for safety in close quarters, so the most anyone was risking was a painful bruise. Of course, Lex loved it. She cared for her rifles like they were her children and she never wasted an opportunity to tinker with them.

But she was practicing with Thane.

Garrus sighed and pushed away from the window. It bothered him and it bothered him that it bothered him. Lex also practiced with him and with Grunt and Zaeed and she and Jack challenged each other to trick shots when they weren’t being supervised.

Hell, he liked the assassin. Respected him, even. It seemed like there was a sore lack of good people in the universe and few tried half as hard as Thane did to be one.

So why this? This irrational annoyance. This irritation. He couldn’t help but think back to Oraka in Chora’s Den moping over Sha’ira and it didn’t do great things for his ego.

Garrus was so distracted he didn’t even hear the elevator ping. 

“Hey, I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” Jon said as he stepped off. “I looked in the main battery and thought something must have gone horribly wrong to drag you away from your terminal. What’s up?”

Garrus straightened, looking away quickly from the shuttle bay. “Nothing,” he said. “I just came down here to talk to the engineers about the power draw from the new guns.”

Jon leaned against the opposite bulkhead and then glanced out the window, at his sister who was listening to Thane explain something to her with rapt attention. “Uh huh.”

It was more of a grunt than words, loaded with as much skepticism as the older of the Shepard twins could muster.

Before Garrus could make good his escape, Jon spoke again: “You two are a lot alike, you know.”

Garrus gave him a dubious look. “How?”

“Well for one, you’re both dumbasses,” Jon said, surprising a laugh out of the turian, who then reached up to rub the sore side of his face. The man smiled, only half apologetic. “My sister tells me everything and I can count on one hand how many times she’s said she loves me. So, if you’re waiting for her to make the first move, you’ll be waiting for a while.”

Spirits, they were so unmistakably related. Jon might have been the diplomat of the pair but that was only by default, because Lex’s idea of diplomacy involved a dictionary of curse words and probably at least one explosion.

Garrus glanced back down at the shuttle bay, at Lex. “I’m sure she wants something closer to home…”

“And closer to home is someone else with scales? And hallucinogenic saliva?” Jon snorted. “Garrus. Think of it like this. You’re up here pining for a woman who would have thrown her whole life–her whole career–away to go with you to Omega. I can tell you right now, Lex wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Maybe not even me. So the only thing in your way is you.”

He had a point. He usually did, but this was a particularly annoying example.

"You're her brother, aren't you supposed to be threatening me? Not trying to set us up?" Garrus asked, with humor.

Jon laughed. "When we were sixteen one of the Reds decided to cop a feel and Lex almost beat him to death with a datapad. I don't need to come to her rescue. Yours, maybe. But not hers."

[reap-the-game]

captainqster:

In a port town nearing the arrival of dusk, a small Ishgardian company made mess of the streets by engaging a band of heretics they’d been after. The confrontation had trailed from woods to town. The company’s captain, a vision in his paladin’s armor, fought with a manic light in his eye, less a hero now to civilian passersby than a whirlwind danger with his sword and men.

The Viera in his company fought with noticeably less passion, but plenty of self-preservation. His armor was heavy; his sword and shield were heavy. His heart, too, was weighed down by it all, this and everything, and grew yet heavier when the clamoring and shouting multiplied unexpectedly. Suddenly there were other men. Suddenly, there were pistols and scimitars, and sun-tanned strangers taking advantage of the clamor to pillage what they could.

A furtive glance revealed a ship not far out at sea. Several dinghy boats were docked that had not been there before, no doubt belonging to the pirates who’d chosen to take advantage of the situation to leave the ship and nab their loot.

Should he help the screaming woman whose ornamented fingers were being cut from her hand? Or the young man impaled by pirates so that his gil purse could be stolen? Ren had no time for them, and little care, not when a heretic’s blade commanded his attention.

He was surprised when a pirate’s blade ran through his adversary, and surprised still more when his fleeting shock of gratitude gave way to confusion as many hands grabbed him. They were whistling, saying something, something about fine loot as he was swept from the battle and his captain. His wordless shout of aggrieved alarm fell on few ears.

One pair, though, was attuned to his voice, and an arm encased in a bloodied gauntlet reached for him through the throng of bodies. Amidst the shouting he could hear Cable crying for him with furious desperation. Too quickly, though, Ren was dragged away, further and further from the moss-green eyes that he hated, the short brown hair that had tickled his neck and chest, and that stubble, so coarse and burning as it grazed his shoulders and thighs.

Funny how he tried to reach for that outstretched hand despite how he’d loathed its touch these past years. But Ren could not lift his arm, not sword nor shield, for too many men weighed him down and forced both items from his grip.

He felt himself being swept towards the docks. He heard their intensions, for they were discussed in excited detail amongst those who had grabbed him, and then rasped with lascivious venom in his ears to tease.

No. Not this. Please not this.

Even in the whirl of confusion he understood that by taking him to their ship they sought time and privacy, prospects which curdled his stomach with a sour dread. The men of his company had used him the same way, but they’d expected to absorb him into their ranks and thus went about him with a mind not to ruin. He had no faith that these pirates would proceed with similar restraint.

His shouting and cursing was disregarded with their merriment as they ripped his cuirass free and left it lying on the dock, and in someone’s haste to get him moving they tore his undershirt down to the navel. He tried to brace his heels against the ground, tried to twist and spit and bite as he was deposited into one of their little boats and held there by powerful arms. Other pilfered items were tossed in alongside him, bowls and jewels, and with a jerk he felt the boat being pushed off.

Hands slid into his clothes, pinching and stroking, and a single tongue dipped into his mouth before Ren’s flinch of disgust set them all to laughing again. They tugged at his hair, stroked his ears; he felt the hard length of a man grind briefly against his cheek, encouraged by the jeering of his mates. All the while their guffawing and bawdy threats left him with the belief that, once done with, he would be left dripping various fluids, his blood likely among them. Whether he would be alive at the end of it all was up in the air.

By the time their boat met its mother and he was dragged up a rope bridge to her impressive deck, he was a writhing, furious mess, no less worked up than a rabid dog. He recalled the pain of Cable and his men, the indignity of being lifted by strong hands and used as though he were nothing, or at least less than them, less deserving of a voice and a choice. And the cold emptiness that followed, his flesh scoured by the eyes that had taken in the sight of him so debased with nothing less than pleasure.

He hated them. Hated them all even as he fought alongside them, his rage tangled and tempered by the comradery of war.

Oh, if his parents could see him now, being shoved to his knees on the pirate ship’s deck and held there. If they could hear the hurried rattling of belts being unbuckled, the amused quarreling between those who playfully laid claim to parts of his body as fingers gripped his hair and tried to push past his gritted teeth.

Shame. Shame and fury as he breathed in a miasma of maddening anger and regret.

reap-the-game:

What foolishness it would have been to pass by the opportunity the unrest in the town provided. What it was about, Giovanna didn’t know and didn’t care, only that it was an easy opening to add to the ruckus while earning some profit for themselves. For that did she send a portion of her men ashore to pillage and plunder as was their nature, while herself and the remainder stayed to mind the ship, ready to part ways with the most unfortunate town upon the return of their brethren-

With everyone already in full knowledge of their tasks and orders, the captain herself had retreated to her cabin, frowning at the map laid upon a large table by the windows as she plotted their course. There were trade routes with their potential victims to consider before their inevitable stop at a port suitable for offloading their pilfered goods, but always would the goal be to avoid confrontations with cannons that didn’t directly protect worthwhile loot.

Indeed, simply sailing willy nilly was not about to get them anything but a swift one way trip to the bottom of the ocean–

But she was interrupted in her task of making sure that fate would not await them when her ears picked up raucous jeering and laughter coming from the deck—sure signs that her crew had returned, but the note of it sounded excited to an… Unusual degree.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Giovanna dismissed her initial thought of leaving their departure in the hands of her first mate and instead set her steady steps to lead to the doors of her cabin, then outside onto the deck of her ship. Those responsible for securing the boats were fast and sure on task, but equally was there an outright crowd of those who had been to the shore, eager to enjoy the living spoils.

It was as she had suspected as the bodies of her men cleared from her way at the sound of her boots: among the inanimate goods her men had gathered, there were those of flesh and blood, and it was one in particular of that sort that had fully caught their attention. After a glance, she could fully understand why him, for the man was a Viera.

Beautiful as was their people’s tendency, the darkly tanned tone of his skin suggested it was Rava blood that coursed through his veins—same as hers. Giovanna stopped in the space her presence had created on the edge of the rowdy circle surrounding the Vieran man, her men pausing one by one as they noticed her arrival and the way her eyes had lit up at the sight of their captive.

“Now what have we here?” she questioned in a facetious croon, the last to be alerted to her by her voice stepping away from her fellow Viera to leave only those keeping him down to still hold him tightly. Her red eyes traveled about him intently, taking in every feature from the handsome face and pale hair to his torn clothes and the fury rolling off of him in waves.

Her men burst into laughter and whistles as she prowled closer to this captive of theirs, her kin, if she were to care about such things… And she did. Every cackled question about her interest in this man in particular went ignored as she closed the distance between them and came to stand in front of him, her head tilting down and to the side as she regarded him. Perfectly aware she was of what would happen to him were she to let her crew have him, as they clearly wanted. They would rape him, enthusiastically, and though he would be alive and in good health on the other side of it… That was only the physical. She had seen both men and women utterly break from the experience—alive, but wishing they weren’t, especially knowing what awaited them once they were offloaded at a port that would not care about their status as captives.

That, she did not care about. That she could watch and witness without a single pang of her dead conscience. Her heart would not bleed for them.

But to think the same happening to him…

Her silence didn’t matter when her crew was so eager to make sound in response to her bending at the waist to wrap one of her hands around the Vieran man’s throat. Oh, the hooting that broke out at that as she stared the Rava into his lovely orange eyes, squeezed–

And smirked.

It was not a kind expression. It was leering, bordering on cruel, and held so much intent in it… But it was intent she did not feel. “Gentlemen!” she called out, silence falling as they waited for her to continue, and continue she did—with words that held a suggestion that was nothing but a lie. “I insincerely apologize for taking your fun from you, but this one… Is mine.”

The noise that broke out on her announcement outright hurt her ears with its volume. “The captain finally found someone she’s got an interest in!” someone laughed.

“About time!” another one chimed in, a shit-eating grin in their voice.

“You’re a lucky one, boy!” was the overarching sentiment aimed towards the Vieran man, spoken by many mouths in many different words. Even Giovanna herself gave a huff of amusement at that before straightening her back.

“Tie him up!” she barked, and at once someone jumped to grab a bit of coarse rope and secure the Viera’s hands behind his back, none too kindly. Were she a gentler woman, she may have made a sympathetic face at the ache his wrists were sure to suffer, but as she was, her unflinching stare upon him was merely imperious. “Help yourselves to any one of the merchandise,” she continued, her men releasing their hold of the Viera when she wrapped her hand around one of his tightly bound arms and pulled him up, grinning around her words, “while I help myself to this.”

More laughter, more whistling. Truly she seemed to have made her crew’s entire night with this alone, and many echoed the wish one spoke about wanting to see what she would do to the pale-haired Viera.

There would be nothing to see, but they did not need to know that.

A wordless nod at her first mate earned her a nod back before he turned to yell more orders at her men. The anchor would be hoisted, the goods—both living and not—secured in the hold, and open water would await them where they could have their fun in peace, but upon her trust that her men very well knew what they were doing, she ceased to care and merely marched her fellow Viera across the deck and into her cabin.

The doors were closed behind them before she released her hold of him. “Apologies on my men’s behalf,” Giovanna said as she retreated two steps away, giving him back some of his personal space he had been denied by her crew. “They like pretty things.” Still her eyes were sharp on him, but now… Without that greed she had expertly feigned in front of her crew. Instead she frowned lightly, taking in his agitation.

Understandable agitation.

After a couple of beats of quiet, she promised, “I will do nothing to you,” and though she didn’t yet release his arms from their binds, she gestured towards the tables at the center of her cabin to invite him further in, as it were. “I’m Giovanna. Captain Giovanna,” was offered as an introduction as well. Did she expect to receive his name in return? Given the circumstances, not really, but as she removed her hat from her head and set it hanging on a hook by the wall, her hand brushed across her ears to ruffle their fur back in more natural order.

And he had ears like that as well, that was the crux of her current dilemma. She could not help but steal a fleeting glance at them, could not help but wonder where he had come from… And could not help but feel that pull of a homeland long left behind only for misfortune to have barreled her over the moment she left the sanctuary of the jungle. Her men would expect her take her pleasure of him. She had no such intentions, but what of after? They would expect him to be sold like cattle, just like the rest.

And she… Did not wish to bring that upon him, no matter how her eyes judged him to fetch a good price. He looked strong, healthy, well-suited for all manner of physical tasks, and he was undeniably handsome. She would not pretend otherwise and would not pretend she did not find find him attractive, no matter how she wasn’t going to force herself on him. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”