#and runs unarmed into a battle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

standfucker · 4 months

Text

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand.

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how.

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle.

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were.

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought.

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest.

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.”

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you.

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside.

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition.

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter.

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #rosinante x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #x reader #blackbeard x reader #marshall d teach x reader #zen writes

769 notes · View notes

2xthemoon · 7 months

Text

Going along with my Alfred the roomba headcanon, here’s a scenario for you-

Keeping in mind I’ve never written a scenario for these guys.

————-

*It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the batkids have formed a tight circle around two roombas. One of the roombas, Alfred, is armed with a kitchen knife that had been taped to its back, curtesy of Damian. The other roomba, dubbed whatever petty criminals name they thought of, is unarmed with three balloons haphazardly taped to its side. A new weekly tradition.*

Stephanie: If Alfred doesn’t win I’m suing.

Damian: He’s the only one that can win. I made sure of that.

Jason: Guys, shut it. Alfred’s about to stab this guy.

*Alfred’s knife runs straight into the other roomba, successfully popping the final balloon. The room erupts in celebration. They’re all chanting Alfred’s name. At one point Damian holds up their champion, causing another round of proud shouting.*

—-

*Bruce and Alfred (human) casually talking in Bruce’s study. The batkids ruckus rattling the manors walls.*

Bruce: what is going on?

Alfred, internally: I just won another battle.

#bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #dc batman #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #tim drake #damian wayne #batkids #dc robin #dick grayson #barbra gordon #duke thomas #wayne family adventures #wayne manor #roomba #batman

689 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 1 year

Text

for the crown (03/03)

two things can kill the soul, emptiness and false hope.

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you gave yourself to him, you love him, he said that despite your low status at court, he will still marry you, because you are his, the woman who was his friend since childhood, until the war comes.

word count: 9.3k

previous part • series masterlist

and here ends another story, I can't believe it :( thank you so much to all the people who supported me and who read, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, you are incredible beautiful people, I love to write all this with pleasure for you❤ see you in the next stories. this is the end, there will be no epilogue.

warnings: angst, denigration, abusive behavior, possessiveness, infidelity, betrayal, mention of death, blood, cuts.

"Prince Daemon sends his greetings."

That's what the man says as he holds a dagger menacingly against your throat, feeling the cold metal firmly against your skin, while with his other hand he quiets your sobs as tears fall down your cheeks.

Even you still don't process how you got into this situation. It just all happened too fast.

All the commotion happened so suddenly, a soldier in green armor shouted ambush and suddenly men with black banners appeared surrounding the camp at Harrenhal, while everyone barely had time to react and suddenly they were already surrounded.

Even Aemond.

The maidservants were the first to flee towards the castle in fear, so you too quickly decided to go after them as the enemy soldiers began to surround everything and kill the men attacking them.

When you suddenly felt someone grab you from behind forcefully without expecting it at all and silenced your screams with his hand, instantly bringing the dagger to the side of your stomach, placing the tip ready to be embedded in your skin, threatening you.

"If you want to live a little longer, I suggest you put up no resistance and don't make a fuss, my dear," the unknown man threatens in your ear in a low, slightly amused voice.

He tells you as he moves the dagger threateningly firmer against your skin, warning you.

However, not thinking correctly and acting on a survival impulse, you gather courage and manage to get the man off you by hitting him with your foot in his intimate part as hard and fast as you can.

The man gasps loudly from the pain, releasing you, giving you time to run and call for help, crying and completely terrified.

But the man immediately pulls himself together and angrily grabs you again in a quick and calculated motion, knocking you to the ground.

You cry and cry for help as he drags you away and you continue to put up resistance, terrified and desperate, but still he places you at his feet and then stands over you, immobilizing your movements.

"No! No, please!" you cry out to him pleadingly, crying, resisting and beating him as best you can with your hands made into fists.

"Shut up!"

He shouts angrily at you, then unexpectedly hits you with his raised hand right on your right cheek, hitting your lower lip as well, bursting it, while a wave of pain runs through your face and you stop resisting.

When suddenly everything goes strangely quiet.

Rhaenyra's army does not kill Aemond's forces, there is no bloodshed or battle as such, except when the green soldiers put up too much resistance and the archers shoot them right in the forehead, killing them instantly.

This is strange to Aemond, who with his sword in hand, alert and defensive, watches as he is surrounded by all those men along with his army, attentive and waiting… though they are not actually attacking them.

Not yet.

Desperately he looks for some way to free himself from the situation, needing his dragon to have a better chance, observing how his men don't even have their swords with them or at least not many of them, most of them being unarmed by the unexpected situation.

When then he remembers you.

More desperate than before, he searches for you among all the people, unsuccessfully, starting to worry, feeling the nerves invade him even more, hoping and wanting to believe that perhaps you have escaped in time along with the maidservants.

But if you've been ambushed so suddenly and so carefully, where even he didn't have time to react, he doubts that you were able to get away from it all in time.

But if you're in the castle, hiding, equally that comforts him a little. However, Aemond did not expect to see Alys came out of the castle.

Static and with clear surprise on his face he sees how a tall man, of broad build, with strong arms, wearing brown leather clothes, with brown hair and beard of the same color along with his wrinkled face, holds tightly by her hair.

Alys gasps in pain and he make her walk and with his other hand he holds a dagger against her throat.

She cries and looks hopefully at Aemond, asking for his help and completely frightened, while the man continues to hold her tight to make her move forward and threatening her with the dagger in her throat, until they reach the middle of the whole ambush.

Aemond cautiously observes the whole scene, trying not to look as worried as he actually is, taking a few steps towards them, about to speak when a voice catches his attention.

"Ah prince Aemond, there you are!"

He then feels as if a wave of fire will burn him completely alive as he now sees how a tall, skinny, hairless man with some visible scars on his bald head and also brown leather clothes holds you firmly, making you walk as you cry and continues to threaten you with the dagger this time at your throat too.

Aemond wants to believe this really isn't happening as the man holding you stands next to the man holding Alys, his two women now in front of him, each being threatened with a dagger, on the verge of death.

His heart rate increases to a faster, unstable one, feeling like he will vomit at any moment, seeing the scene in front of him.

But his attention is drawn more towards you, with the man mumbling at you, threatening you to stop crying, as he notices the blow on your cheek and the blood coming out of your lower lip, instantly watching everything with his jaw clenched and his hands making them into fists, clenching his sword too tightly.

"We've been waiting to see you, Prince Aemond," says that man holding you, watching him amused, "Couldn't miss the show, could you?"

"Let them go, both."

He demands in a serious and deep voice, angry, hiding his desperation and concern, cautious and attentive to anything, while the man holding you watches him even more amused.

"I don't think you are in a position to demand a thing prince, or are you?"

"Then what do you want?"

Aemond instantly snaps at him, his voice hard and threatening, his whole posture tense and still clenching his hands tightly into fists.

He doesn't understand anything.

If they're here to kill them, why didn't they do it from the beginning? He doesn't understand what they're getting at with this by taking you and Alys.

"What do we want?" the man repeats, then laughs bitterly and with cruelty, "No," he denies with his head and then looks at you, "What we want we already have… right here."

This sends shivers down Aemond's body, who unable to hide it any longer, watches worried and alert as the man presses the dagger harder against your throat.

Your stir and cry in fright, to which the man quickly covers your mouth with his hand, making you gasp from the pain, so you close your eyes tightly and let out more tears, sobbing into his hand, wishing for this to be over soon.

"When Prince Daemon heard that his nephew took the Crown in the Usurper's absence and that he took Harrenhal to gain more support throughout the Riverlands against his wife, apparently enjoying the company of not one, but two women in the midst of war… this got his attention and he decided to act about it."

Then the other man holding Alys speaks with a deep voice and a determined look, while Aemond listens and watches everything carefully.

"Now he can avenge the death of his son, Lucerys, properly."

The tension rises at that moment, Aemond completely transfixed watches with his eye wide open at the scene in front of him, with the man's words constantly replaying in his mind as he sees the two of you more than willing in killing you and Alys.

Then the realization also hits him like a wave.

Blood and Cheese.

These two men are the same assassins that his uncle sent to kill one of his nephews, in revenge for Luke's death.

They were never found, both successfully escaping the Keep after such an act that his sister witnessed and drove her into madness.

Aemond truly took full responsibility and understood that his sister could no longer even accept his touch or tolerate his presence, crying completely devastated the next few days after losing her son and to this day.

But now… the victims are not his niece and nephews due to the lack of children of his own, now it's you and Alys.

He didn't bother to keep his activities with Alys discreet. Everyone knew there was an intimate relationship between him and her, he even knows that word must have gotten as far as King's Landing.

As well as with you, the words spreading since he stole you from the Keep and brought you here with him.

This is why he understands that these men have taken you and Alys successfully, until now realizing the grave mistake he made in carelessly letting his weaknesses be known.

Watch as Alys watches him intently, pleading, as the man continues to hold her tightly with the dagger at her throat, and then watches you, you already watching him the same way she is, frightened and begging for his help.

"We will tell you the same thing we told your sister, Prince Aemond," Cheese says in a more serious and firm voice, "We are debt collectors. In this case a son… for a mistress."

Cheese's grip on you grows tighter, as you gasp from the pain and continue to cry, while Aemond presses his lips together and stands as still as ever, afraid to make a false move, watching and listening to everything intently.

He feels as if his heart is going to burst out of his chest at any instant, he wants to vomit and wants to burn everything to the ground because of the fact that he can't do anything about it.

He is completely helpless in the face of the situation.

"We only want one to balance things out. The other one we won't touch a hair on her head."

Cheese continues, along with Blood still holding the daggers menacingly against yours and Alys' throats.

"Then… which one would you prefer to save, your Grace?"

The tension increases with every second, as Alys stares at him pleading and you too, crying.

These words hit not only Aemond, but also you, desperately asking for his help, terrified, crying harder, knowing full well that the dagger in your throat can kill you at any instant, the decision being his.

You watch him completely attentively, as Aemond slightly raises his hand towards the men, swallowing hard, wanting to keep calm and peace, as he feels the despair all over his body.

And now he understands what his sister had to go through.

"No, wait," he says instantly, trying to sound calm and look less desperate and worried, "Wait," he repeats firmly and cautiously, trying to reason with them, "I'm sure we can come to a beneficial agreement. Just let them go."

Cheese laughs bitterly, as Blood answers for both of them.

"An agreement is not a mistress, prince."

"It has to be one of the two of them," Cheese makes clear, in warning, "And I advise you to make up your mind soon before Blood gets bored and decides to enjoy one of the two, prince."

Your heart rate increases in panic, as Aemond purses his lips and starts to become clear in his indecision, really wanting to believe that none of this is happening, when the moment is more real, terrifying and vivid than ever.

"Choose or we kill them both," Cheese says as a final warning, his gaze determined.

Alys stirs hard, drawing the attention of Aemond, who with the clear worry and desperation on his face, watches as Blood orders her to stand still while she pleads with him to choose her. Worry invading him more, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms as he squeezes hard.

When then his gaze turns to you.

Your eyes completely teary, red and panicked look back at him, pleading with him to choose you, feeling just as scared as he is, feeling your fear increase and you breathe harder each time you feel the man place the dagger more firmly against your throat.

Aemond says nothing. His gaze is completely hard, his jaw clenched and clear indecision is on his face as he watches continuously between Alys and you, watching the daggers in each other's throats.

And in that moment you have hope.

All the moments you shared with Aemond since you were both children you remember, all the gifts, details and the caresses that happened as you both grew up.

All those moments together, when he gave you your first kiss and when he claimed you as his.

You've been his friend since you were both children and his companion ever since, to this day. And you are hopeful that he will choose you, because that is what you would do.

However, seeing Aemond's hesitation and how he watches you so deeply, his eye desperate and full of concern, you still wait for all this to be over once and for all, wanting to stop feeling the edge of the dagger against your throat.

But Aemond remains silent, being aware that he has to choose soon, because he can't lose both of them. But seeing you and then Alys, the decision is very difficult.

You watch him without understanding, expectantly, while begging and crying for him to choose you, while the man's hand hurts you by your broken lip, but still completely attentive to him, wishing that this horrible torture where you are on the verge of death is over.

When finally Aemond seems resigned and finally points.

"Her."

And in that moment… everything around you stops.

Your face slowly softens in surprise, watching Aemond with your eyes wide open, your soul falling at your feet.

You watch perfectly well as he points to Alys.

You watch perfectly well as he chooses her.

Then all the realization also hits you like a wave, not even crying anymore because of the panic and because of the man who can kill you at any second.

But you cry because you realize that not even in this kind of situation where you are on the verge of death, he will choose you.

All you feel is an empty feeling inside you, as if something is missing, with a huge sharp pain in your chest, as you watch Aemond and you can't even hear what he says to the man holding her, everything sounding too far away and feeling like you are flying for a moment.

With your gaze completely devastated, you watch as the man releases Alys and Aemond quickly takes her in his arms, concerned, everything about him looking for a moment relieved, as he holds her and makes sure she's all right.

The way he holds her face, the way she watches him as she is now safe in his arms, everything hurts.

Feeling completely weak and watching the scene, really not wanting to believe it, it's as if your very mind is going into a state of resignation unconsciously, as that sharp pain in your chest is more constant and you feel like you're breaking into a thousand pieces.

The man removes his hand from your mouth to hold you tightly by the jaw, you barely feeling his touch as you continue to watch Aemond's choice attentively.

The two of them embrace, he holds her against him as if she is the most precious thing he has, making sure that no one will ever take her away from him again.

When then his gaze turns to you and though you don't know it… his cold heart breaks into pieces at the sight of you.

All he can see on your face is how completely broken you are, tears streaming down your cheeks, confusion, sadness and betrayal completely to him, all of you totally devastated.

He presses his lips together, leaving Alys aside for a moment when you've seen it all and now you understand it all, looking away from him and focusing on the ground, all realization in your broken gaze.

And it all feels worse when Cheese says in your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear:

"Did you hear that, my lady? Your prince wants your death."

Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes and let some more tears fall, accepting all this, Aemond, Alys, your destiny, everything… and you wait for death, giving yourself completely to it.

Cheese watches Blood with a malevolent smile, that being the signal, while you silently cry and wait for it all, when Aemond again intervenes, worried.

"No, no, wait," he urges.

But both assassins already have what they wanted, so Blood watches him with a dark look.

"There is no more demand here, Prince Aemond. You have made your decision."

"No, wait," Aemond says again more firmly, desperate, watching behind both men and again at them, so continuously, "Just wait."

"No, prince," Cheese denies with his head slightly amused, "No more waiting."

He says to again place the dagger against your throat decisively, causing Aemond to freeze completely and you weak freely allow access, hoping it will all be over soon, as Cheese gives Aemond a dark smile.

"Prince Daemon sends his regards."

And then everything happens too fast.

You let out a last sigh, with your eyes closed, letting yourself go completely, waiting for the moment when you will feel how the blade cuts your skin and the blood will come out of your throat, running all over your body to the ground and so you will bleed to death.

However, the sensation of the blade against your skin never comes.

When suddenly, the whole place again explodes into chaos.

The men surrounding Aemond's men are surrounded by Lannister and Hightower bannermen, neither of them expecting it and they are killed instantly, this being the opportunity for Aemond's unarmed men to take up their swords and defend themselves.

This immediately catches the attention of Blood and Cheese, also that of Aemond, who pushes Alys away and again takes his sword, looking desperately at Cole, who observing the situation, orders one of his archers to attack.

And then… an arrow pierces perfectly through Cheese's head, killing him instantly.

Without expecting it, you fall to the ground in a firm hit, feeling how blood splashes in your direction, only it is not yours, while the army that was with Criston Cole makes its way through the whole place to rescue Prince Aemond and his men.

And the moment that happens, Aemond reacts quickly, holding his sword tightly, in an instant heading towards Blood, who completely bewildered watches the whole scene confused, to then behead his head in a calculated and firm movement.

He yells at Alys to hide in the castle, quickly, then rushes towards you, who crying on the ground with Cheese's body next to you, he quickly takes you in his arms, lifting you up.

You look at him completely bewildered, while everything around starts to be a battle and a bloodshed, as Aemond makes you run for safety.

But the instant you finally react and understand what is happening after such a sudden situation, you move his hands away from your body, avoiding his touch, to seek refuge in the castle yourself, scared.

Aemond then begins to kill the men who had surrounded him before, with fury running through his veins, without measuring his strength and his limits, feeling how his fear from before is replaced by adrenaline and kills every man who fights for his half-sister and his uncle, furious for the situation he was forced into before.

And he kills every one of those men, until there are none left.

Some time later, all is quiet again, as carriages take away the dead bodies that were seen around and inside Harrenhal, while Aemond's men supervise everything and Aemond has a meeting with Criston Cole and all his advisors, talking and discussing about what happened.

Aemond immediately orders the word to reach King's Landing about the ambush and also how he has avenged his nephew Jaehaerys.

They also discuss how they could have been ambushed in such an unexpected way, really none of them having an answer, as Aemond runs a hand over his face and feels completely exhausted in every possible way.

It is not until he has a short break, still having many things to discuss and do, that he goes to your chamber, where he was informed some time before that you were being attended to by the Maester, that he can finally come to see you.

He finds you alone in your chamber, without any trace of blood and your hair still wet from the bath you took, the wound on your lip is already clean, but the bruise on your cheek is more than visible.

Even when you hear how they enter your chamber, you still don't turn around and continue watching through your windows, knowing perfectly well that it's him, since you would recognize the sound of his boots walking anywhere.

With your gaze completely broken, disinterested at the same time and with dry tears on your cheeks, you look at the mountains beyond, still feeling that sharp pain in your chest and still feeling weak.

Aemond lets out a long breath, shortening the distance between both of you, placing himself behind you, while you continue without watching him, the tears wanting to come out of your eyes again and pressing your lips together, avoiding sobbing and crying in front of him, not wanting him to see you that way.

In fact you don't want anything from him anymore, you just want to be alone.

"Y/N—

He starts to say to you in a soft voice, while his fingers touch your arm, but immediately your face hardens and you pull his hand away in a cold, abrupt and curt way, not caring, not wishing him to touch you, even without looking at him.

Aemond remains completely still, watching you, not expecting at all that reaction and behavior from you, while you continue firm, without looking at him and without saying anything at all.

He lets out another long breath as he looks away from you for a second, to look at you again with some anger in his gaze, expectantly.

"Now what's wrong with you?"

Nothing, you don't watch him or say absolutely nothing to him.

Do he still dare to ask?

You ask yourself, incredulous, not believing he's fool enough not to know what's wrong with you. Of course he knows, he just wants to make you look weak and dramatic.

But how are you supposed to feel and how are you supposed to act, when hours before in that horrible moment, he practically condemned you to death?

Aemond runs a hand all over his face and hair, his patience beginning to wear thin, not wanting to have to deal with you now when he's already had so much to endure this day and it's not even over yet.

"Are you done yet?" he asks you annoyed, "Believe me I'm not in the mood for your behavior right now."

And that's when you can't resist any longer, answering him even without looking at him.

"Then leave," you tell him without much emotion, "I didn't ask you to come and I'm certainly not holding you back if you have more important things to do. I'm sure Alys will be more pleased to see you, after all… she is part of your important matters."

Aemond completely loses his patience and in a second he's already grabbing you hard by the jaw to force you to look him in the eye, while you stare at him without expression, your gaze completely dead and empty.

"You are going to stop this fucking nonsense and you are going to stop it now," he warns you in a serious and threatening tone.

"Do not touch me," you tell him seriously as you again abruptly pull his hands away from you.

And again you turn your back to him, staring at the window, instantly feeling tears run down your cheeks, only you dare not make a sound, waiting for him to leave and leave you alone.

"Can you stop behaving like this? I'm sick of it," he demands, annoyed, "I knew Cole was coming, I saw him approaching and I knew you would be fine, I saved you," he exclaims serious, explaining.

Again you say nothing to him, not daring to look at him, tears falling more freely down your cheeks, unable to hold back.

It makes you sadder that he doesn't really know why you are this way, and it certainly isn't because you were terrified of dying. In some part if it was, but what hurt you more was that he chose her and you were condemned to death, is that because he didn't choose you… for her.

And if he knew Criston Cole was coming, then why did he still choose her?

He could have chosen you, he could have taken you in his arms as he did with her, that's what you would have done because you have known him for years and you are the one who has always been with him, not her.

However, you understand that you should stop thinking about what you would do for people, because that doesn't mean they will do the same for you.

That has become more than clear to you, because even if you choose him, he won't choose you.

He couldn't risk losing his precious Alys one way or another, wanting to make sure he had her really safe first, while you remained in that man's arms, waiting for your death.

You are not more important than his witch. He needs her to win the war for his brother, his family… and you are not more important than the crown.

"Hey, did you hear me?" he urges you, annoyed "I knew Cole would come."

You sniffle, lowering your gaze, then nod even without looking at him, looking the saddest and most disinterested, really wishing he would leave and leave you alone.

"Of course," you murmur to him without emotion, bitterly.

He didn't know anything.

Your mind tells you, only making you feel worse, even though you knew from the moment he chose her, not wanting to say anything to him about it, not having the energy to fight him.

And at this, Aemond has had enough of your attitude and disinterest, so he snorts bitterly, annoyed and tired, turning around to leave, not saying anything else to you and certainly having more important things to take care of.

You press your lips together, your gaze completely hard, really not wanting to say anything, but needing to get it out of your system, so in a low murmur you say:

"Liar."

And even though you've said it to yourself, still Aemond hears you and in an instant stops, turning to you again, instantly feeling his watchful and annoyed gaze, hearing you as he takes a few steps towards you, while you stand firm even though you don't even return his gaze.

"What did you say?"

He asks you slowly, like a madman about to explode, not liking your word at all. And you make it clearer to him, swallowing hard first.

"It was Criston Cole and the archer who saved me, not you," you answer him coldly, "Even in that kind of situation, you will always choose her," you tell him bitterly, "It was you who gave me over to death, because you didn't even know if Criston would arrive, it was just a coincidence that it came at the ideal moment."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N. You don't know anything," he tells you menacingly serious, "So I advise you to stop acting like a fucking little girl and stop bringing Alys up every second when I've already explained to you, countless times, that I need her to win the war."

"Yes," you mutter, your gaze bitter, "You need her so much that you'd rather kill me first, than lose her."

"Seven fucking Hells," he mumbles, sick of it, "That was necessary, what do you not understand?" he says to you annoyed, "And yet why do you care so much? At the end of all this I'm not staying with her, it's you I'm marrying."

"Oh is that so?" you say without emotion, "I'm not sure about that anymore. At this point maybe your witch will marry you first before me," you shrug, "And I wouldn't be surprised. Even if that happens, you won't let me go. I'll just be just your whore, like I've been all this time."

"Don't say that," he warns you.

"Or I will finally end up dead."

"Y/N," he warns you for the last time.

You let out a soft sob, closing your eyes tightly, breaking into pieces again, the memory even more vivid than ever, the dagger against your throat and him choosing her, over and over again.

And you feel again how Aemond tries to grab your arm, but you push him away again in an instant.

"'Go away. Leave me alone," you beg him hurt and upset, no longer bearing his presence.

He tries to speak, when at that moment there is a knock on the door, so resigned and irritated he orders with a firm voice to enter, turning around to observe who it is, being the Maester.

He catches your attention as well, at once calming you down and wiping your tears away.

"Oh my prince," he bows his head to him, as you continue to turn your back to both of them, still controlling yourself, "I'm sorry to interrupt, my prince. I just came to attend to Lady Y/N's wound, I have already gotten what I need."

"I understand you have already cleaned and tended to her wounds, Maester," Aemond tells you cold and serious, watching him intently and intimidatingly.

"No, my prince. I tended to the wound on her lip, but the one on her throat is missing. I didn't have what I needed, so I went to get it," he explains softly.

Aemond frowns slightly, as the Maester makes his way across the room to you, who once calmed down and with a calmer and more serious attitude, you let him do his job, not looking at Aemond for a second and pretending that he is no longer there.

While he continues standing, observing the work of the Maester. He didn't even know that the assassin had managed to cut a bit of your throat, being a barely visible and small cut, but deep enough.

He lets out a long breath, looking away for a moment, running a hand over his face to finally leave the chamber.

He feels furious, annoyed and stressed by everything that still awaits him, instantly meeting again with all his advisors, the matters of the war at this point really bothering him and a lot.

While you, when the Maester finishes cleaning your wound, continue to be locked in your chamber, not having the energy for absolutely nothing, reliving the moment in your mind over and over again about Aemond choosing her… and not you.

You cry silently, thinking about it and also about Aemond's words of justification, only making you feel worse.

Even lying in your bed, really having no peace and unable to sleep properly, you still feel that sharp pain in your chest. Fortunately Aemond doesn't appear in your chamber again, but still you continue to suffer in silence.

And when you finally manage to sleep, the nightmare repeats itself, the words of that man leaving the choice to Aemond, and then he chooses her, and finally the man kills you in a fine and perfect movement.

At that moment you wake up, bringing your hands to your throat in an instant, breathing hard and gasping in fear, beads of sweat all over your face and body, hugging yourself and in an instant crying again.

He choose her.

Your mind tells you, not leaving you alone, thinking that Aemond probably hasn't come to see you because he is with her. After what happened… he must still be with her.

It's not like you want him to, but all this just reinforces more what happened and how you are nothing to him, how you are not more important than her and that you just don't matter to him.

All these thoughts don't leave you alone, feeling completely alone and more than vulnerable, letting the ghosts of the cursed castle of Harrenhal consume you in darkness… letting her consume you, the witch.

When the next morning, after one of your maids brings you a tray with breakfast, even though you have no appetite and do not wish to eat anything, there is something hidden among all the plates and napkins laid out for you.

Then it's as if you again feel like you're floating, the realization hitting you harder than before and that ache all over your chest making you feel weaker and more vulnerable.

Just now truly understanding… the role you play in Aemond's life.

Everyone in Harrenhal hears the huge roar of Vhagar in the skies, approaching.

It is not until shortly after that a vibration is felt throughout the ground, indicating the landing of the huge dragon and also indicating the return of the Prince Regent.

Aemond runs one of his hands over his face as he removes the helmet that complements his armor, instantly seeing the ash permeate his fingers from all that he ordered burned and destroyed to the ground, heading towards the black castle.

Since the ambush yesterday, having the meeting with all his men and advisors, this morning he decided to head alone towards Rhaenyra's army that was slowly approaching, deciding to wipe them all out from the skies, responding to the harsh ambush and killing all those men fighting for his half-sister.

He didn't act instantly, he had to wait for the perfect moment to attack and take them all by surprise.

And when the moment finally came, he burned every single one of them with their carriages and supplies, leaving absolutely nothing, making sure of it.

Criston Cole and all his advisors wait patiently for their return, watching Vhagar in the distance on some mountains, while the figure of Aemond begins to get closer and closer.

And once they are all in the Council Room, again the discussions begin.

"There is not a man or carriage left," says Aemond firmly, "All is cleared as to any movement on the part of the blacks."

"There are no claims that there are any more soldiers fighting for the blacks in the Riverlands, my prince. According to the spies and soldiers you sent."

"Good," Aemond says with a nod.

"Ravens arrived as well, my prince," Cole tells him, extending rolled parchments to him, "All from Kings Landing."

"There was an attack?" he asks instantly, taking the paper.

"No, they report that all is well, Prince Daeron is guarding the entire Keep. It is King Aegon's answers as to the ambush, the assassins Prince Daemon sent and he has also let it be known that he has sent soldiers for the loss, to equal again the men we had, all from Oldtown and Storm End."

Aemond nods, understanding and being pleased to hear that, finally hearing good news since he arrived at Harrenhal and feeling some of that peace he needed, also that hope of winning the war again.

He continues to discuss other plans, until finally the meeting ends after several hours, where his advisors begin to leave the room, except for Criston, whom Aemond watches him expectantly as he notices that he does not move from his spot.

"Is there anything else, Cole?"

The man watches him for a moment in silence, then lets out a long breath and finally speaks.

"Yes, my prince, there is something else."

"Well, speak," he tells him without understanding, watching him intently.

Cole again remains silent for a few seconds, while Aemond watches him, waiting, beginning to lose patience. When Cole finally speaks.

"It's Lady Y/N, my prince."

Aemond stands completely still, still watching Cole intently, not understanding.

"What about her?"

"She's missing."

He says and at that moment Aemond feels his whole body tense up completely.

"Her maid said she wasn't in her room this morning, so she searched all over the castle and the surrounding area but she didn't find her."

He lets him know as Aemond feels all that peace at seeing progress in the war fade away. He lets out a long breath, closes his eye and runs a hand over his face, wanting to believe this isn't happening.

"Since noon I've sent guards to search for her all over Harrenhal, my prince," Cole adds, "But there's no sign of her."

"Fucking Hell," Aemond mutters tired, irritated and now worried, watching him instantly annoyed, "And why didn't you say anything before?"

"I-I…" Cole is speechless for a moment, nervous, "I'm sorry, my prince. You had just arrived and I thought you would want to take care of crown matters first."

Aemond rolls his eye, beginning to feel furious, his whole face annoyed, instantly rising from his seat.

"Fetch the maid, bring her here. Now," he orders him upset.

"Yes, my prince."

Cole immediately complies with the order, while Aemond feels that at any moment he will go mad, trying to calm down.

When your maid enters the room in fear, followed by Cole, to be instantly interrogated by Aemond, being intimidated at all times and answering his questions in caution.

Then he himself gathers more men, even men on horseback, ordering several of them to head for the roads leading out of Harrenhal.

"If she's gone on foot, she can't be far, so find her and get her complete, do you understand? Without any wounds," he threatens, to which the men instantly obey.

Aemond at once gathers the men who are searching all over Harrenhal, wanting to hear news, but they all inform him the same thing: there is no sign of you.

And he instantly orders them to keep searching, not caring how exhausted they already are or that they have already scoured the area, he just wants to find you.

But the men last all night until the Hour of the Wolf looking for you, without success.

The next morning, Aemond in a sorry state, not having been able to sleep all night, being on the lookout to hear some news about you, receives the men he sent on horseback and they let him know that there is no trace of you on any road.

Aemond demands that they tell him exactly what they saw, how far they got and making sure they did their job well, annoyed and beginning to lose his patience completely, taking his bad mood out on all those men, demanding answers.

However, no one finds anything, but he forces them to search again, not caring about anything, feeling that at any moment he will go mad, despair and worry eating him alive.

When they leave him alone in the room, even Alys comes looking for him, asking him if he's all right and offering a distraction for a moment, but he dismisses her instantly, not having the slightest interest in her now, too occupied thinking only of you.

He is left alone in the Council Room, running his hands all over his face and eye, feeling more despair all over his body, when a few moments later, Cole enters the room, cautious and watching him with some pity.

"My prince," he makes him aware of his presence, approaching towards him.

"Did you find her?" he asks at once in a serious voice and looking completely tired.

"Yes, my prince."

He answers in a murmur to his great surprise, making him watch him instantly attentive. Then he lets out a long breath, feeling all that tension and despair leave his body completely, feeling relieved.

"Fucking finally," he mutters still angry, getting up from his seat, ready to head towards you.

"My prince," Cole tells you instantly, taking a step towards him, "You must know something—

"What?" he inquire annoyed, "I don't have time for this. Where is she?" he demands to know, putting on his black coat, watching him expectantly.

"Wait my prince, s-she's—

"Just tell me where the fuck is she!" he demands desperately.

"She's dead!"

Cole tells him without further ado, stopping Aemond completely, as he looks at him seriously and with a sorrowful look, assuring him completely that he is serious and that he would never dare to say something like this if it were not true, while Aemond is completely paralyzed.

He watches him with his lips half open and his eye wide open, surprised and not expecting it at all.

"She was found in the lake just beyond the main road of Harrenhal, hidden in bushes," he explains to him gently, cautious, not wanting to disturb him further, "She had a dagger and cuts on both wrists," he says very carefully, preparing to say the next thing in the same way, "Apparently she did it to herself, my prince."

Aemond feels like he can't hold himself on his feet, leaning back against one of the chairs, watching Cole in bewilderment and as if he can't believe it.

"She was brought back here and is now with the Silent Sisters," he adds, "She had this with her, as well as the dagger."

He tells him to then drop in front of him on the table apparently a letter, instantly Aemond's gaze hardening and refusing to believe that you, his Y/N, is dead.

"No. It's not her," he says firmly, "Y/N is not dead."

Cole watches him with pity, lowering his gaze for a moment.

"Yes it is her, my prince," he assures him gently, as Aemond looks at him completely serious and on the verge of losing control, "I'm very sorry."

Aemond feels as if he is floating, his whole body tense and his mind refusing again and again to believe his words, telling himself that it is impossible, that you couldn't have abandoned him like that, that you have always been with him, by his side, since he was a child.

He denies, feeling how his heart begins to beat strongly, besides starting to feel that sharp pain all over his chest, tensing more, feeling as if he were drowning and short of breath, besides an emptiness, something missing.

He hardens his gaze and tightens his lips, feeling a huge lump in his throat and a discomfort all over his stomach, as if he feels like he is about to throw up, losing strength.

It just can't be.

No.

That's all Aemond thinks, incredulous, in denial and feeling all his palpitations getting stronger, the whole world crashing down on him, despairing and feeling completely dazed.

It is not until some time later that Aemond, with his hard look and tight lips, orders Cole coldly to leave the room, to which the knight obeys, not really wanting to leave him alone, only to stand right at the doors once he closes them, being alert.

And a few moments later, Criston Cole hears how Aemond finally reacts and starts breaking everything in the room, listening to his screams of rage, he even breaks and curses that letter you had with you when you were found, because now he understands why you did what you did.

This is the first and last time I will respond to one of your letters, Y/N. But first I want you to understand that I don't want you to write to me ever again.

You have brought shame to our entire family name, you have brought shame to me, destroying the few things I built so that we could afford a life. After all I did for you, you decided to turn your back on me and give yourself away like a common whore to a prince, allowing him to ruin and disgrace you.

You are not my daughter, you are not that woman I cared for and raised, because if you had been, you would not have allowed any of this. And yet you expect me to forgive you by believing that the prince is going to marry you by the time all this is over?

The news has reached here about how the prince has taken another mistress, a witch, so you are a complete fool to believe that he cares about you and will marry you. Open your eyes at once and understand that you are nothing more than just a desire, a whim, a woman to warm his bed, becoming his whore and nothing more, which is all you will be useful to him.

You have not only embarrassed and disappointed me, but also your mother, because believe me Y/N she would be very disappointed in you. Don't write to me again and don't look for me when he leaves you and you have nowhere to go, you are just a naive fool who got carried away by the whims of a man, believing his lies.

I truly don't recognize you and want absolutely nothing to do with you, so as I told you, don't ever write and look for me again.

These same words are the ones you had read when they brought you your tray with breakfast.

You definitely not expect that your father would truly respond as you decided to send him a letter hoping he would forgive you by explaining the whole situation, why you left with Aemond and what would happen when the war was over.

You did everything in secret and with Ellya's help, fearing that Aemond would find out but fortunately that didn't happen, until you fortunately received your father's reply.

However, you did not expect such words from him.

Reading it all, with your mind still fresh from what happened with those assassins, Aemond and Alys, you now really understood what you mean in Aemond's life…. nothing.

Your father's words broke you completely, realizing that he is right.

You also understand that you have no family anymore and that you are completely alone in all this, that your father hates you for what you did and thinking about your mother too, how terribly disappointed she would be in you.

You understood that even if you stay by Aemond's side, you are only his whore and that is how everyone recognizes you now, Prince Aemond's whore.

You understood that even he could get bored of you at any moment and take Alys permanent, that made it clear to you the moment he chose her over you with the assassins, because you are of no other use to him, you can't see the future and help him in matters of war.

You are simply of no use to him, other than to warm his bed.

And you don't want to live like that, where at any moment Aemond leaves you unexpectedly, having no one else, nowhere to go, realizing that you yourself ruined your life for a man who doesn't even care about you and doesn't love you.

With your heart in a fist, sadness completely invading you and the realization getting harder by the second, the moment you found out that Aemond had left Harrenhal to attack an army of the blacks, you decided to escape.

You took a dagger from the kitchens without anyone seeing you, you passed the guards unnoticed and you walked away until you reached that lake, with tears in your eyes and feeling completely alone and hopeless.

The memory of Aemond choosing her over and over again, the letter from your father and how you ruined your life by making the wrong choices, did not leave you alone at all times and you decided to slit your wrists.

All alone, taking a seat on the ground, near the trees with bushes and the beautiful lake in front of you.

And with the view of the dusk, you let yourself go completely with blood dripping down your hands, staining your dress and tears streaming down your cheeks.

It wasn't so painful even though you felt completely alone, starting to feel very weak and disoriented, breathing hard and waiting for the Stranger to take you away.

That last memory of the world comforted you and taking your last breath, you closed your eyes and thought of Aemond. Even though he did not love you back, you truly loved him until the day you died.

And you left, not really wanting to leave, but being necessary.

Now Aemond finds himself watching you at the table in one of the large unoccupied rooms of Harrenhal Castle.

Earlier the Silent Sisters were about to begin their work with you, only to be interrupted by him and asked for a moment, where he had heard before entering how one of them had said in a low whisper; "Poor child…she died alone."

He continues to feel that sharp pain in his chest, all hard stare and tight lips, barely processing that this is really you.

Your eyes are closed, your whole face in a slight expression of pain, still looking completely serene and still, your skin pale and without color… without life, still wearing your dress, stained with dried blood.

Aemond clenches his jaw and gathers courage to look at your arms, all the way to your wrists, where he sees the deep cuts perfectly, feeling that pain all over his body again.

Then he dares to raise one of his hands and delicately touch your cheek, almost with fear, instantly not feeling that warm and soft touch from you.

When the first tear falls on his right cheek.

Just at that moment alone, Aemond realizes all the damage he did to you, understanding that you are dead because of him, because of the decisions he made, because of the way he treated you, because of Alys, because of everything, leaning towards you and holding you in his arms.

It's not just the feeling of loss, he's also furious with himself and your father for that letter, asking you in low whispers to please wake up, only to see your eyes closed again… forever.

He made you a promise and was always willing to keep it, yet he never thought about your feelings, never really cared about you, because his problem has always been that he thought he would always have you by his side and that you would never leave him.

Even choosing duty, the crown, his family, you were always with him and that kept him confident, until you couldn't anymore.

Until just then Aemond realizes the terrible decisions he made, regretting over and over again, wanting to tell you that nothing of what your father told you is true, that he does care about you, that you are important to him.

However, he never proved it to you, not in the way that was right, always treating you as his possession, choosing others over you, because he always thought he would have you.

He didn't know you were suffering so much and now… because of him you are dead.

Aemond doesn't know how long he lasted that way with you, holding you in his arms, wanting to feel that warmth and comfort you always gave him, but instead you were just a cold and lifeless dead body.

Criston Cole is the one who convinces him to leave you in peace so that the Silent Sisters can finish their work with you, leaving him no choice.

Then, before nightfall, Aemond gives the order to Vhagar to burn your body, not caring that this is a Targaryen tradition, only he and Cole being present, this being the least he can do for you.

And the last.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Alys Rivers, the witch of Harrenhal, raises her gaze and observes the figure of Aemond in the doorway of her chamber, watching her attentively, without much emotion on his face, but with a cold and distant look, catching the woman's attention, who frowns and adopts her posture willing and seductive at the same time.

"What do you mean, my prince?"

She asks him with her attractive tone, the one that always has an effect on men and also on him, only that this time no anymore.

"You knew about the ambush… and you didn't tell me anything," he tells her with a deadly tone, "Because you knew what would happen, you knew that I would choose you and not her… sending her to her death."

Alys is confused, not understanding the prince's behavior, when he has always been so responsive to her, continuing her seduction.

"You know that I have always kept my word, my prince," she says slowly approaching towards him, "I have told you every single one of all my visions. But in this case, I saw nothing about the ambush."

In an instant, Aemond shortens the little distance between them, unexpectedly for Alys holding her firmly and tightly by her neck in a threatening manner, while Alys opens her eyes wide in disbelief and horror as he begins to choke her, everything about him emanating fury.

She immediately brings her hands to his, trying to stop him, watching him in fright, as Aemond watches her like a mad man, demanding answers, his eye red and swollen, his pupil dilated and all the pain in his gaze.

"You knew about the ambush, you knew what would happen and that's why you didn't tell me anything," he repeats to her in a deadly tone, "All to get her out of your way, isn't it?"

Alys squirms and gasps for air, watching him in complete terror, beating her hands and chest desperately.

"N-no," she says as best she can, needing air.

"Don't lie to me!" he exclaims unexpectedly, furious.

Alys coughs, tears beginning to spill from her eyes, crying, as Aemond watches her with as much hatred as possible, completely disgusted, to finally have enough and let her go, instantly her falling tactlessly to the ground, gasping for air, coughing and with all the fear invading her body.

Aemond thinks of course she knew, again feeling the urge to cry, but completely resisting, he turns around and walks out of the chamber, completely exhausted, furious and hurting, no strength left.

The next morning, Aemond orders the death of the witch of Harrenhal, being beheaded in an instant for carrying out the prince's order, to continue leading his side of the war… with the difference that nothing is the same anymore.

Aemond Targaryen was always haunted by all the ghosts of Harrenhal, especially you. Every day he woke up and you were no longer by his side, it was complete torture.

He couldn't sleep, had very little appetite and began to lose the war slowly.

From the beginning he always chose the crown over you, but in the end, it wasn't worth it at all. Aemond lost himself, all the time thinking about you, where he also lost his sister, his brothers, his grandfather and all those sacrifices being in vain.

Nothing he did was worth it, not even Alys, because he lost you and he also lost the war, with nothing left of him or his family.

And all for what?

For the crown.

Taglist:

@targaryenmoony @skzenhalove @yentroucnagol

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

763 notes · View notes

theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months

Note

Smut Idea: 03 Leo and S/O doing sexy role play of enemy to lovers

Karai’s Student (Angst?/Fluff?) (Suggestive)

2003!Leonardo x foot!reader

A/N: This may not have been what you were looking for, but your request suddenly gave this idea and I just had to run with it. It follows the enemy to lovers trope, with the reader being a part of the Foot. This one is not very smutty, but I’ve made it a bit suggestive. Hope you’ll like it anyway tho💙

Warnings: Suggestive themes, talk of hurting each other, not prof read.

You couldn’t stand him. The mutant turtle leader in blue with his overblown ego, his constant need to show off, even in the middle of a battle, and his never stopping preach of “peace”, “patience” and “guidance”. Not even two minutes after you first met him and his brothers, you were at his throat with your blade, ready to make him shut up. But damned be Leonardo and his actually impressive ninja skills. Sure, Karai had told you about his skills, praising him and his abilities with his swords, even though he was a mortal enemy of her and her father. You had even once heard Shredder mutter something along the lines of Splinter having taught his son well. But as you stood face to face with Leonardo for the first time, you didn’t find yourself as impressed as you found yourself annoyed, even angry. And that anger and distaste for the leader in blue only grew further, as your first encounter ended with him throwing you off the roof, sending you crashing into a dumpster filled with trash below.

Your anger was noticeable after that first encounter. Karai noticed how easily she could get your blood boiling during training, just by reminding you of the mutant turtle. And she used that to the fullest, watching from the sidelines as her first student got riled up, letting out a roar as she cut off the head of her training dummy, letting it fall to the floor with a thud.

The second time you and Leonardo crossed paths, you fully intended to try to get rid of him. You had not expected to run into him on your minor mission on your own in an abandoned building, but here he was, the sight of his face making you grit your teeth.

The two of you found yourselves locked in a fight, your swords clashing together. But while you did everything you could, trying to get a slash or a stab through Leonardo’s protections, he deflected your attempts, once again talking to you like he was an old master of sorts.

“You’re angry, (Y/N)”, he said, calm as ever, almost sympathetic, deflecting every swing of your sword. “This is not how to get your anger out. There’s other ways”.

“Will you shut up?!”, you yelled, feeling your emotions boiling over, your anger turning into desperation. You wanted him gone, and the increasingly erratic movements of your arms made that clear. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Your anger left you blind. It left you open for attacks. And much to your dismay, Leo noticed that, and took the first opportunity you presented for him. You were shocked at how quickly he managed to unarm you, sending your sword slided across the floor and far away from you. You tried punching out after his face, only for Leo to grab a hold of your hand and twisting it behind your back. You screamed, slowly sinking to your knees, trying to fight the pain in your arm.

“I don’t want to keep fighting you”, he said, his calm voice making you want to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Bullshit!”, you yelled, doing a sudden turn so that you could hit Leo with your other fist. However Leo grabbed this with ease, pushing you down flat on your stomach with your hands behind your back. You struggled over him, proving enough of a challenge for him to press his body weight onto you in order to keep you in place.

“Let me go!”, you yelled.

“Are you going to try to punch me if I do?”, Leo asked, a small annoyance dripping from his voice.

“I will stab you!”, you yelled, struggling against his grip once more. And for a moment, just a moment, you managed to get one of your hands free from Leo’s grip. This caused another struggle between the two of you, in which you managed to push yourself up just a little from the floor with your free hand. However, Leo was quick to get a hold of your hand once more, pushing himself flat against you in order to keep you still, knocking all air out of you as you hit the floor.

With the side of your face laying flat against the cold floor, you found yourself burning with anger from the inside. You tried your best to ignore the feeling of Leo’s hard plastron against your back, and the sound of his breathing just behind your ear, or how big his arm and hand looked compared to yours, as it kept yours locked to the floor.

“You done?”, Leo asked, his voice low by your ear. You mentally cursed yourself for the shivers that went down your spine.

“No”, you sneered, keeping your face as far away from his as possible. “As soon as you get off me, I’ll gut you!”

“Then I’ll guess we’ll have to stay here until you are done”, Leo said. And at that moment you wanted to day. You almost asked him to bring out his katana and just get it over with. But no, instead you stayed like that for hours, until you finally found yourself getting tired of your lack of food and limited blood circulation, causing you to ever so slowly fall asleep. And when you woke up a few hours later, Leo was gone. And so was your sword…

The time after you and Leonardo’s second meeting, you found yourself more angry than ever before. You no longer just decapitated your training dummies, but now you tumbled them over, beating them with whatever weapon you were practicing with, until the fabric of the dummy was frayed and the filling was out everywhere. Even Karai was taken aback the first time it happened, but then she did what she always did - she encouraged it. She even went so far as to add a blue strap of fabric to the dummies, as to imitate a bandana.

As days turned into nights, Leo still wouldn’t leave your head. No matter how often you beat the shit out of those dummies during training, it was like you couldn’t get rid of this ever growing feeling of anger and resent. All you could think of was the feeling of his body being pressed against yours, the sound and feeling of his breath against your ear, and his strong arms and big hands holding you still. And with each thought of him passing through your head, you wanted to punch holes in the walls.

But then, one night, you found your world turned upside down. In the early mornings you found yourself waking up, gasping for air and sweat dripping from your body, as if you had had a horrible nightmare. But the wet feeling between your legs let you know that it had been far from a nightmare. You had been dreaming about you and Leo in that abandoned building. Your body pinned underneath his, his lips on your neck, his hands slowly creeping up the front of your shirt, and his hips grinding against your ass. And to your horror, you had liked it. You had asked him to keep going, even moaning when nibbled at your ear. However, you woke up in shock when he turned you over, the last thing you remember being him diving down over you, just about to capture your lips with his. And from that day on, your anger towards Leonardo took a different form, as those kinds of dreams started to come more and more often…

The third time you meet Leonardo, you were less than prepared for what was going to happen. It was during another of the minor lone missions Karai had sent you out on. As you sneaked around the roofs of New York City, with your black mask covering the lower half of your face, you were surprised by a sudden voice behind you, catching you off guard.

“(Y/N)? Long time, no see”, Leo said. And for a moment you thought you heard friendliness in his voice. But instead of greeting him, you turned, throwing a ninja star his way. But Leo, being as fast as he was, quickly jumped out of the way. “Well, I’m happy to see you too”.

“Give me my sword back, asshole!” you yelled, charging towards him, your hands raised. You punched your fist out at him, aiming for his face. But once again, Leo dodged with ease.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I can’t do that when you’re actively trying to hurt me”.

“You stole it!”

“No, I took it, hoping it would help you calm down. But it clearly hasn’t helped much”, Leo said, slowly circling around you, ducking every once in a while when your knuckles came flying towards him.

“I’ll give you calm!”, you yelled, charging forward once again. Your closed fist just passing by Leo’s head. Leo however did not seem the least bit bothered. Instead he grabbed a hold of your arm, before using his foot to pull one leg out underneath you, using his hold on your arm to push you backwards. You felt yourself fall to the roof in slow motion. But this time you refused to fall without bringing Leo down with you. Within the last second of opportunity, you grabbed a hold of the tails of Leo’s blue banda, yanking him down with you as you fell. Leo stumbled forward, and as you both fell to the roof, you soon came to realize the depth of your mistake.

Leo braced himself just before he crashed upon you, hovering just above your face, his strong arms on either side of your face. You felt a pit grow in your stomach, your eyes wide open, staring at Leo’s face just before you, feeling his breath against the fabric of your mask. His eyes were just as wide as yours, staring directly into your soul. For a moment you wondered if you were back in one of your trick full dreams, that tried to make you believe that you wanted this to happen. You mentally cursed your body for reacting to feeling Leo so closely against you, the pit in your stomach starting to tingle. But then Leo did something that made you shiver all over.

With a slow and soft hand, he tugged lightly at your mask, pulling it down past your face and letting it rest around your neck. Suddenly nervousness started growing within you, causing you to lick your drying lips. Leo noticed this, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes once more.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but ever so slowly your faces started moving closer. Your heart was pounding with excitement, but your brain was screaming at you, telling you that you were about to commit a giant mistake. You felt Leo’s fingers find your face, his fingertips gracing your cheek, as if checking if it was okay to touch you. You could feel the warmth of Leo’s lips radiating onto yours, knowing that they were mere millimeters from yours. Your heart was earning for you to close the short distance, but your head was ringing every single alarm bell. It was like two sides of you were fighting to get control over you. And in the end, one side won.

With a quick hand, you grabbed for one of Leo’s katanas mounted on his back, pulling it out just far enough for its shiny blade to rest just by Leo’s shoulder. Leo froze above, his lips still just above yours. With a quick side glance, Leo could see his own eyes in the reflection of his katana looking back at him. He slowly looked back at you, a small smile making its way onto his features.

“And you called me an asshole?”, he chuckled.

“I want my sword back”, you said, tightening your grip on the blue handle of the katana, reminding Leo of the situation he was in.

“So now you’re trying to take mine?” He was teasing you. Here he was, just hovering above you, his own blade almost pressing up against his skin, and he was teasing you? A shiver ran through you, aiming directly for your core. You tried your best to maintain the expression on your face, but a small twitch in the side of your mouth let Leo know that you were struggling.

“(Y/N)”, Leo said, his expression a little more serious this time. “I meant it when I said I don’t want to fight you. I have no reason to fight you”. You started biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes drifting from his to the handle in your hand. “I promise you-”.

“I will let you go”, you said, interrupting and taking the mutant turtle aback, your eyes almost burning holes in his. “If you promise to bring back my sword. My sword and one last fight”.

“I already said I don’t want to-”.

“One last fight”, you said sternly, pulling at the katana. “If you win, I might think of what you told me the first time we met”, you continued, hinting at the long speech Leo held for you just before your first fight.

“And if you win?”, Leo asked.

You answered by giving the blade a light shake. “You won’t have to worry about that”.

Leo looked at you for a moment, taking a moment to think about your offer, before finally nodding. “Deal”.

Maintaining an emotionless expression, you let Leo’s katana slide back onto his shell, bringing your face close to his once again. “Next time I see you”.

“Deal”, Leo said once more, understanding what you meant. Standing back up when you let go of his katana. Standing up straight, he looked down at you, a small smile breaking through once more. “See you around, (Y/N)”.

And with those words, he was gone, jumping back over the roofs in whatever direction he came from. You however, stayed on the roof for a moment, taking a moment to calm your frayed nerves, thinking about how you and Leo’s next encounter might play out.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader smut #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader smut #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 x reader smut #tmnt 2003 leo #tmnt 2003 leo x reader #tmnt 2003 leo x reader smut #tmnt 2003 leonardo #tmnt 2003 leonardo x reader #tmnt 2003 leonardo x reader smut

90 notes · View notes

seabirdtxt · 1 year

Note

man idk why but i just kinda want to make creator! reader's backstory SAD like they were tortured (?) just to keep the rest of humanity/teyvat safe.. like i am a SUCKER for sad/traumatic backstories!! just a little brainrot i need to get out!!

i'll keep this short and sweet i told myself. lmao. i forgot i'm a sucker for easy angst

Blood of God

Notes: Sagau cult au, cut-based injuries, blood sacrifice. bunch of fun stuff. Reader is the Creator, golden blood, etc. read at your own discretion

WC. 976

----- ⚘ -----

When you first descended into Teyvat, You were initially met with praise and celebration. Countless festivals were held in Your name. Your beloved characters, Your acolytes, were the first ones in line to beg for Your blessings.

That's when everything started to go downhill.

With the realization that Your physical presence in the world meant no more divine guidance, Your acolytes grew desperate for Your blessings. Blessings that You, as a mortal human being, could not grant. Not to the same degree that You used to, when You played the game and bestowed buffs and upgrades aplenty to all Your teams, and generously ascended even those You didn’t have plans for.

But now, even as You stand before them in flesh and blood, Your godlike abilities have been reduced to mere party tricks. You spoke to the animals, and twisted the breeze. You made flames dance with a single gesture, and grew pretty flowers in your footsteps. None of this helped the acolytes, though.

Interest in Your well-being, in You, dwindled. Your acolytes wished You well, the rare few even questioning Your divinity, and sent You on your merry way.

Abandoned and unarmed in a world full of hostile creatures, You took up jobs with the Adventurers Guild. First, it was fetching and delivering goods for the city citizens. Then, it was carrying messages across the countryside from town to town. Lastly, it was picking off monster camps that strayed too close to civilization.

This is where a few of your acolytes found You, injured and bleeding brass-coloured ichor into the dirt and swinging wildly with Your adventurer’s sword.

Deity or not, Your acolytes were not ones to stand idle while another was put in harm’s way. Into the fray they jumped, and fought by Your side despite their reservations about You.

In the heat of the battle, the acolytes noticed something strange. Those sprayed with Your blood were given increased strength and capability for a short while, until the stain dried and wore off.

Encouraged, they investigated further. Using some of Your blood as war paints extended the duration of the blessing by nearly double, coating their weapons with it would increase the effectiveness of their strikes, and a brave few discovered that ingesting it would boost them all-around for the entirety of the day.

Harken, and rejoice! For irrefutable proof of the Creator’s benevolent presence has been revealed! And You, desperate for their love and acceptance, gave it to them without question.

A beautiful, elaborate temple was built in Your honour, with ceremonial blades scattered throughout the decor and deep channels filled with ever-flowing ambrosia running across the floor. As Your holy blood continued to be spilled, the hue of it began to run a shimmering gold.

Those who sought Your blessings need only visit you in Your temple, bringing offerings of kill trophies and unearthed relics. Then, they would partake of Your divinity by their choice of method, dipping their reverent hands in the rivers of ichor that pulse across the temple grounds.

You haven’t stopped bleeding in months.

It was bearable at first, when the first time the channels were filled You were pleased to discover that they would not run dry for some time. When the acolytes came for lessings, you would only need to refill the trenches every few days.

You asked if they could bring You softer offerings, of sweet foods and thoughtful bouquets. Such shows of softness were dismissed with a laugh. What need did you have for plants, when the strength you gave them could afford you even the rarest and most difficult trophies to obtain?

But the Abyss came. Celestia’s wrathful gaze descended. Your acolytes were fighting a war on two fronts.

They came on their hands and knees, emptying your stores quicker than you could refill them. Eventually, you took to sitting in the golden throne with your preferred blade, sluggishly carving yourself open to ensure the continued survival of your beloved acolytes.

It wasn’t enough.

Please, they begged. Give us the strength You once were able to grant. Show us the stars in your eyes and in your blood once more, that we might fight and win in Your name.

Filled with fear, and hurt, and love, you gave them everything you had left.

Their lips and teeth stained with brilliant auric gore, they took to the fields once again. The Abyss fell before them, the cursed beasts of the land fell into disarray and fled into the winds. Celestia conceded victory.

The acolytes cheered and danced in the aftermath of their slaughter. Eager to show their renewed devotion, they returned home to You.

But Your temple had crumbled, and the deep wells that once held Your pulse have turned to dust. Your blessing was but glittering sand in their mouths as they sort through the rubble to find any traces of You.

There was no way to know who broke first. Your acolytes realized too late the price for Your continued generosity, and squandered Your love on chasing strength and war.

Your temple was rebuilt with petals replacing every blade. The grooves filled with the soil that was steeped with the blood of the fallen, and flowers of all shades of vibrant, terribly human red grew there.

Dendrobium and Mourning flowers. Even the azure Sea ganoderma bloomed in rare patches where water pooled deeper.

Had they loved You as a human and not as a seemingly bottomless resource, would You have stayed? The thought of such a question shamed them. You asked for their love and they’d given You their blades. You asked for sweets and they’d brought you the bones of their enemies.

And yet, You wanted to stay. Even as they literally bled You dry, You had only ever wanted their happiness, no matter the cost.

And heavy was the cost.

#genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin isekai #genshin self aware au #sagau cult au #sagau bloodletting au #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #seabird.inbox #seabird.txt #💜 anon

858 notes · View notes

friendly-alien-fucker · 9 months

Text

Cultural Differences

Warnings: non-sexual nudity, fluff

Pairing: yautja x gender neutral! reader

Summary: the beach episode, your yautja and you go for a swim and some shenanigans happen.

___________________________________

For hunters who regularly, and quite literally, bathed in the blood of their enemies, yautia were surprisingly hygienic.

It was one of the first things you noticed when you agreed to explore the galaxy with your lover. They could be rolling around in mud, get beaten up and bruised with blood running down their mandibles, but they always returned home to you clean and smelling completely neutral.

It was pleasant, really. Seeing as you'd already made peace with saying goodbye to your sense of smell when you met them, having only known them as sludge-covered barbarians back then.

You smiled softly as you admired your body in the one-piece bathing suit and swimming trunks you'd picked for today. There were many things you didn't know about their species, in fact you still find yourself surprised by the gentler aspects of their society.

Mothers asking politely if their pups could touch your odd-looking dreads, elders stopping in their tracks to tell you you did a good job when they see the small rodent skulls you cleaned up and hung on your belt, or that group of overconfident youngbloods that promised to teach any yautja that decided your inferior strength was grounds to get touchy a lesson.

Their species was full of unexpected kindness. And the reason you were getting ready for a swim today was proof of it.

Yautja Prime, their home planet, wasn't quite what humans would call idyllic. The atmosphere was dense and hard to breathe in, the ground rocky with little vegetation. You'd compare it with a desert, except unlike a desert, their planet had a vast amount of water, stored in vulcano-like craters.

Only problem is, the temperature there is just barely below the boiling point of water. Way too hot for any human.

So after complaining to your mate for the upteenth time, they decided to surprise you with a little trip to another, much cooler planet. Your concerns about deadly creatures lurking being quickly shut down when they told you it was a place often sought out by elders to relax after they were done hunting.

So now all you had to do was pack your few things and board the small freighter you and a few other Yautja would be flying to get there.

The thought unnerved you a little, being so close to a bunch of strange Yautja, especially since your mate would be waiting on the planet already and therefore couldn't protect you if something happened. But even through your innate fear, you knew those thoughts were stupid.

These were trusted elders, not only were their hunting days over, but they would never bother trying to take down a lone, unarmed human. Especially since you were basically trapped, with nowhere to run or hide, and therefore way too easy prey, if they could call you prey at all.

So you grabbed your small bag full everything you'd need on your trip and made your way through the long halls until you reached a much smaller ship.

Standing a little further off, you watched as different Yautja conversed with each other and walked on board, feeling your dread rise regardless of wether it was logical or not.

You tried to make out what they were saying, but despite living amongst their people for a while now, their language still only sounded like random clicking to you. You sighed.

"Okay?" a deep voice interrupted your solitude.

You flinched as a big hand grasped at your shoulder, quickly disappearing at your reaction. "Sorry."

It was another Yautja, seemingly a little older than your mate, adorned with battle scars and markings and missing a tusk. Their voice sounded stiff and robotic, like they learned their English from computer recordings, which wasn't too odd. Many youngbloods had started to learn human languages to aid the relationship between your two species.

Which made you silently wonder why this elder was learning it. Regardless, you bowed your head respectfully, and used your basic knowledge in ASL to greet them. Hearing their rapid clicks, you couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Heeelo, hello." They huffed, placing their hand on your chin to make you look up at them. When you faced them again, their mandibles were spread widely - something you've come to understand as a smile of their own.

"Ooman. I know your language, speak with me." They growled, and you nodded sheepishly. Apparently learning the best through doing is a universal experience.

And like that, your little trip seemed just a little less terrifying.

Nin'tui, as you'd gotten to know them, had shared with you stories of their greatest hunts, occasionally switching to sign language when their English wasn't enough. And while, as expected, the other elders on the ship were less enthusiastic about your stay, they didn't bother to complain. There were even a few who'd join in to chat about their own battles and the planet you were about to visit.

All in all, the trip was less unnerving than you'd thought, and a lot shorter too. Your sense of time wasn't the best up in space, but you could swear it wasn't longer than two hours until the ship gradually slowed, before setting down onto rich brown earth.

Once you set your eyes on the surrounding scenery, you couldn't get out of the shuttle fast enough. If not for your traveling companion, you would've probably been scolded for the amount of Yautja you almost tripped by running outside as fast as you did. But there was no helping it- blue skies! Brown earth! And, most importantly, air that you could actually breathe in!

And when your feet finally hit the ground you couldn't help but let out a long and joyous laugh. "Aaaaaah, I can't believe we're actually here!"

"Believe it." a way too familiar voice called from behind you, making you spin around to throw yourself at them in excitement.

Without flinching, they simply caught you, holding you high in their arms as you all but assaulted their face with kisses and thank you's. Or at least that's what the other yautja must've thought, muttering amongst themselves as if they were viewing something scandalous, a few stepping closer to get a better view of the strange ritual.

But your mate simply purred, leaning into your affection as their voice rumbled against you "You should wait to express your gratitude until you've seen the waters!" they laughed, and you shook your head as you gave them a last kiss between the eyes.

"I'm just so happy to be here! Just look!" you jumped out of their arms, gesturing towards the fields of flowers "this planet is beautiful! Almost reminds me of some corners of earth..."

You smiled at the thought, and they chuckled as they put a large hand on your back. "We should walk with the others, the waters are not far."

And so the two of you walked slowly behind the larger group of yautja, them slowing their pace to match yours as you cheerfully took in your surroundings. Beautiful was truly the right word for it.

Tall grass with taller flowers that swayed gently in the wind, going on for kilometers until reaching a distant forest, that you imagined to be just as wonderful.

After about 30 minutes of walking, elongated by your habit of stopping to sniff every alien plant you could reach, you finally made it to the lake. About 500 meters of fresh water that seemed to almost glow in the sunlight.

Standing in awe, you barely registered your mate sliding your backpack down your shoulders and throwing it to the side. It was only when you felt a claw tug at your shirt that you snapped out of it, matching their equally confused expression.

"Don't you want to swim?" They asked, and you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

"Oh, yeah. These are my swimming clothes." you explained, yet their expression didn't seem to lighten.

"No, no. Swimming." they accentuated their words, pointing towards the water as if you simply didn't hear them the first time.

You nooded, dumbfounded, "Yes. Swimming." but as they continued to stare at you like an alien (heh), you shook your head "just- here, come on."

You took their hand, leading them towards the water and to your relief they followed without complaint. At the edge of the lake, you grinned up at them excitedly, before taking a leap, splashing them with the surprisingly mild-temperature water.

Though as you came to the surface and brushed your wet hair out of your face, you were not faced with the annoyed yet amused expression you'd expected on your mate, not that you were registering their expression at all since seeing them stand there in all their naked glory practically fried your brain within seconds.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you yelled, making them jump slightly and their mandibles flare.

"What?" they asked, way too calm for your taste.

"You're naked!" you whisper-yelled, and they simply nodded, before jumping into the water next to you.

"Yes. Swimming." They repeated your words back to you with a very deadpan expression.

"But- love, no!" you were furious as you tried to explain this to them "We're not alone out here there are oth-" but as you looked to gesture at the others around you, you were met with even more naked yautja, unashamedly bathing in the sun.

Blood rushing to your face, you try to cover it with your hands, glad to be able to stand at this point in the water. You felt a hand lay itself on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" your mate asked quietly, bending down to meet you eye-to-eye. "I didn't know you'd be bothered by this. You were fine with me disrobing, I thought..."

You simply shook your head at them, forcing yourself to be a grown up and pry your hands from your eyes. "No...no." you sighed "I'm fine."

"But a warning would've been nice, I uhm..." you couldn't help but grin at your own embarrassment "I-I guess I just didn't expect to ever see any nude yautja aside from you, you know?"

Thankfully they didn't seem to judge you for it though, as they simply looked at you with that ever present curiosity. "Humans arent nude around each other?"

"We are but....usually just around friends and family, you know." you bite your lip as you dare take another glance at your surroundings "and usually only around our own species."

You can see them nodding from the corner of your eye, "I understand." yet something still seems to bother them.

"You are free to do as you please, however... you always encourage me to partake in your culture. Perhaps you should try and see this as an opportunity to partake in mine."

Their words stung. They were said without pressure or malice, a simple suggestion- but it stung. They had always gone out of their way to make you the most comfortable, this trip was proof of it, and you liked to think you were doing the same for them.

But were you?

"But what if they'll look?" you asked, your face still a shade darker just at the thought. "Then let them look." they replied in earnest "You are very attractive. Let them see what they don't have."

And people did look.

Though, to your surprise, no more than they usually do. Seeing a human walk around and do human things could only get so exciting you guessed, and nudity truly was natural to them.

Over time and with a little coaxing you were even comfortable enough to briefly leave the water, if only to get your towel and wrap it around yourself.

Letting yourself relax in the sun that, even hours later, didn't appear to go any lower, you're interrupted by the low purring of your mate. Smiling, you turn to face them.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you begin, only for them to interrupt "Thank you for coming. And," they truly seem grateful as they incline their head "thank you for 'stepping out of your comfort zone.'"

You chuckle at the human idiom. "My comfort zone is wherever you are." you say earnestly, and they simply purr louder in response.

#yautja #alien vs predator #💚original post💚#alien #slasher #yautja x human #alien x human #monster fucker #predator yautja #fluff #yautja fluff #requests? no #its a idk how many words post about something no one asked for ever but i wanted to write #didnt end how i imagined it to but yk how sometimed you have half an idea and just start writing?yeah

277 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Text

Worlds at War | Yandere Thor

The world as you’ve known it was on the crux of war. Your father and mother fought hard to support your older brothers who were intent on leading the kingdom's various armies. Though your father seemed fairly indifferent, he didn’t bother to hide his anger when you received your first injury.

“Never again.”

“But Dad!”

“Nope, you’re far too unprepared to be on the battlefield. Just let your brothers handle this.”

“Dad it was just a little scratch!”

“Please Adam, darling! (Y/n) just going to run away if you forbid them entirely!”

You doubt your father would have let you do even that but it convinced him to let you take on smaller tasks like leading the transportation of goods. Usually on an already conquered route, once again secured by your brother’s army.

On the day you met him, that was exactly what was happening. Following behind Lu Bu’s enthusiastic army you were sure this would be another uneventful mission. You’d be incredibly wrong.

Diverging from the usual plan, Lu Bu’s army had not cleared the route. Instead, they were still battling the enemy on the path. All too eagerly you directed your unarmed troops to run, retaining half of your army to aid. Being on the level of your brother, you easily tore through the enemy army. It was exhilarating. Like your brothers, you found the enjoyment in a fight but of course, it just wasn’t on your level.

No one on the battlefield was until you got to him. Hair flowing like the tail of a phoenix and eyes gleaming a yellow-green like the moon of a lunar eclipse. His hammer swung with power that could be spotted miles away. But what stood out most was the smile on his face. It matched the one on Lu Bu’s face when he made his last charge.

Despite the grief that threatened to clutch your heart you found yourself grateful. For if anyone knew of your brother’s burden it was you. While you may have been able to go toe to toe with him in theory your father once again would intervene; ordering you both not to take it any farther than light sparring. It only fueled your excitement.

You quickly ordered the remains of your brother's army to retreat or continue fighting along with your own, launching yourself off the back of your horse to immediately commence in battle with the silent giant.

“You’ve given my brother a glorious end, I’d love to do the same.”

He only grunted but his smile persisted.

For the next ten hours, this duel of yours would commence. Both of you smiling ear to ear as you both parried, blocked, and occasionally slashed at one another. An unspoken comradery was born when he fought your brother and the same could be said for you.

It only slowed when the sun began to rise and a hawk came with a warning cry. Breaking out of your trance you jumped away listening to the chirps of the birds–something your father taught you fervently. The message they sent was one of warning. The warning of a specific someone’s wrath.

“Rats, I have to go. He’ll chain me to a wall if I don’t.” You whistled for your horse who dutifully trotted to you. Before you snapped their reigns to return home, you turned your head.

“So what’s your name so that I can look forward to fighting you again?”

For the first time since the fight had begun he spoke.

“Thor.”

You smiled and bucked at your horse; yelling over your shoulder. “Then until next time Thor! I’ll beat you then!”

From then on the story of your love would begin. To the average person, it would seem bizarre that you’d both go from fighting for days to making out during an ambush. It was truly a marvel that heirs of warring kingdoms would find such comfort in one another but you two did. Against the warning of those who suspected, both of you ignored it for the euphoria you gained with each other.

“Thor, I’ve been thinking about what we’d do after this war.”

His eyes opened looking up at you, who was running your ungloved fingers through his hair. He took a moment to speak, admiring the small smile on your face.

“What will we do?”

You chuckled ducking low to share a kiss with the Norse warrior, lovingly trailing your hands from his crimson tresses to hold his chiseled chin. He, in turn, held your cheeks lightly running his thumbs over your cheeks.

“We’ll go live in a forest or a mountain, or maybe we’ll travel.”

He smiled at you nuzzling his head deeper into your stomach as though trying to close the distance between your bodies. Hugging him closely you let his hands trail further down as you spoke in whispers.

“Maybe we’ll have a family or a bunny. Though I wouldn’t want mjonirr to be left out.”

He hummed turning himself around hold you in his lap to trail his hand along your back and the hem of your scouting uniform, playfully toying with the small opening. Distracting you from your protests he nuzzles his nose against yours swallowing your moans with his own.

So encapsulated in each other it was beyond either of your thoughts that those who were suspicious now had finite proof of your allegiance to each other. It was true that no information had been betrayed or secrets shared but still an allegiance to the enemy would bring some concern.

________________________________________________

“From now on you’ll be put on the back side of our defensive front.”

“What?!”

“I no longer trust you on the front lines.”

“What why?!”

His usually indifferent cerulean eyes looked out the window to the east as though glaring at the one he’d been told of. His gaze softened when he looked into his child’s pained eyes forcing him to close his, he appreciated Eve’s grip on his hand.

“How can I trust you’ll come home if you're distracted?”

“....Dad I can explain–”

“I’m sure you can but I won’t be leaving my baby in the hands of an enemy warrior.”

Their head hung low before they ran out of the settlement. Adam could hear the confused shouts of the guards as he heard the swift gallops of his child’s horse. He knew they wouldn’t run too far because they knew he wouldn’t let them.

“Adam, my love how do we know he isn’t as equally in love with them? How can we be sure their love isn’t true?”

The father looked wistfully at the apple on his plate holding it up high before squishing his hand and turning it to mushy paste.

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

Meanwhile, Adam’s child was now running to the meeting point. The abandoned wasteland of unconquered territory had been the meeting place for the couple. By now vegetation had begun to grow over the remnants of a town caught in the crossfire. It provided just enough cover for a letter that (Y/n) would only hope Thor would receive in time.

Finishing up the remains of the letter when they saw the hulking shadow cast over them they thought it was Thor. So they didn’t protest when a large hand pulled them by their waist into a deep kiss. Faster than they could register they’d already slashed at the man’s cheek, immediately causing the man to flinch. He still held tight around their waist this time digging his nails spitefully into their sides.

“You think I wouldn’t know the taste of my lover? Loki.”

At the call of his true name, the face and figure began to morph revealing the adopted mage with a twisted expression.

“Well, it appears you do. My bad for underestimating you.”

“What do you want?!”

“So cruel. I only wanted to give my regards to the fallen hero.”

Already suspicious (Y/n) attempted to jump back fully drawing their weapon only for their arms and legs to buckle. Looking at the pinch of a syringe in their side, they glared at the giggling mage. Their vision went black as they saw the mage come in close.

With the last of their strength they called for the one they yearned for,” Thor.”

The mage chuckled with glee as he kicked the limp body below him. With ease, he lifted them turning to their sleeping face with a triumphant smirk.

“What should we do with the damsel hero then?”

_____________________________________________________

On the battlefield, Thor found he didn’t recognize the attack patterns at all. They weren’t familiar. He forged on finding that his troops were being brought down in record time. The pattern was incomprehensible. If he didn’t know any better he’d say whoever was leading was making a path right to—

“Found you.”

–him.

The punch he received was devastating. Knocking him through the waves of his armed troops and ground below; leaving him frantically standing in a crater. The owner of the attack wasted no time knocking him back before he could actively use Mjolnir, already pinning him down with a heavy foot on his chest.

“You and I need to talk.”.

Thor tried to lift the man’s foot off of him for that same foot to deliver a striking kick to Thor’s jaw. Shaking the initial shock to digs his boots into the ground, lifting himself to stand in his favored position with Mjolnir. Sensing the sentient hammer Adam jumped away, expertly dodging the weapon which happily returned to the hands of Thor.

Without hesitation both men commenced in a battle where neither held back, undeterred by the odd unspoken connection between them. Thor especially remained in the dark as he found certain attacks hitting harder when the blonde had a cold expression on his face; as though he was holding back. It only seemed to click when his trusted hammer seemed to trill when his opponent successfully caught him. It was so apparent it caused the warrior to pause.

“Who are you?”

It was obvious he was the enemy king…which would mean:

“(Y/n)’s father.”

The immense shame that came over him was devastating. They were no longer fighting but it worried him that he hadn’t recognized the similarities before. It was silly that he hadn’t noticed how MjonIner was behaving the way it did when fighting his beloved.

“Don’t get cold feet. I’m proving your worth.”

Similar to his battles before he found it dragging on, but unlike his battles with his love he was filled with the nervousness of a groom. The battle only slowed when Adam pulled away standing with a bored expression as he looked at the dwindling armies.

“Fine. I guess I’ll admit you are strong.”

Thor didn’t relax his stance. The animosity teeming off Adam wasn't ceasing.

“If you wish to leave them with your life this is your chance.”

“Excuse me?’

Adam put an indignant hand on his waist.

“If you want to leave them. Now’s the time. I’ll release you back to your army, and (Y/n) will never see you again. You can avoid the drama, the accusations, just agree to leave them.”

The tension between the two was palpable. A withstanding obstacle that kept their armies far away.

“I’m not leaving (Y/n).”

Adam scoffed,” So you say.”

“I promise it. I’ll abandon my duties to be with (Y/n). I’ll leave all of that behind. I’ll kill anyone who stops me.”

Their silence returns. The kind that came before a great storm.

“....”

“...Good. I’d want nothing less.”

Or a great agreement.

Adam was quick to demand Thor leave immediately. He had an inkling something had happened and that was all Thor needed. Before he took MjonIr he bowed his head, darting in the direction of Adam’s army. More accurately past them at speeds rivaling their horses.

“That boy better better protect them.” Adam turned his disinterested gaze at the remaining army.

“So who’s dying first.”

__________________________________________________________

When the Norse warrior first laid eyes on his beloved, he knew he’d never forget them. The warmth overtook his already aching body when they called to him. Or the way MjonIr trembled when they withstood its electric blast.

It was perfection incarnate.

Even better, their affection was like air. Thor found his mind wandering to them when his army was desperately calling out to him. Or when he faced a barely equal opponent he could hardly refrain from thinking of their arms, their praise.

This is why he immediately aimed to slice off Loki’s arm at the prospect of his love being unsafe.

“I-I-I was only trying to do what was best for our k-k-kingdom!”

His lies were of no comfort encouraging Thor to raise his hammer and begin to swing down.

“WAIT! Wait! I know where they are b-but you have to be calm!”

“Speak or I’m going to kill you.”

“R-r-right! Well—”

Loki told of a defective group on the enemy’s side that seemed to worship him. In their various interpretations of his vague orders, they required a sacrifice chosen by him. It was a passing punishment. One he wasn’t sure if it’d kill the ‘hero’ or not. Admitting to his weakening of the fighter he suspected that within a few hours, they’d ritually burn the incapacitated hero.

Thor could barely keep still when he was told. He graciously sliced the adopted mage’s arm instead of killing him. He marched out of the ruins determinedly; he had to save his beloved before it was too late.

______________________________

Waking to the muffled sounds of chanting and fire roaring was never a good sign. The humid enclosure of a woven bag around your head made it hard to breathe. Closing your eyes was a better option than the odd passing of light within the small holes.

It didn’t help that you could feel your body weighing heavy, a constant reminder of the drug-induced sleep you endured. The unfamiliarity that comes with your forceful sleep. The burn of new cuts kept the feeling fresh, feeling them littered all over your body. It didn’t make it better when you realized there was the chilled coolness of something wet.

No doubt your blood.

The cacophony of different voices rang out, eventually joining together to chant a name that left you like this.

“Loki! Loki! Loki!”

Feeling yourself being laid down you could recognize the biting knot around your wrists and feet being reinforced. Getting small touches of your bound hands you could feel wood, curved into a pole. From there you could guess the fate these people had in store.

As you were made to stand up straight on a pile of wood, you naturally thought about your plans to escape. The poison you’d been given might have put a wrench in your usual plans. Which would just be you easily kicking those handling you and snapping at your binds.

But you couldn’t do that.

Hearing the chants get louder you figured that your best bet would be to run the second you felt the rope and subsequently your body catch fire. Doubting you’d come out of this unphased, you prepared yourself for the searing pain to be. Minor burns when cooking would be only a small taste of what you planned to survive. You were sure you could.

You only wondered if Thor could love you charred.

Speaking of him, you were sure you could hear the beating of Mjonir…or was that you’re own heartbeat? It couldn’t be because you could feel your heart speed up as you realized the hammer was actually here.

The joyous rambling of the crowd became a hoard of gasps and questions. It desperately had you wishing someone would lift the bag from your head. Alas, you could only garner Thor’s entrance from the crowd’s reactions. While it was surprising it’d be expected, rarely do others after seeing Thor, believe they can attack him to any degree. For as comforting as you’d find him, his hulking size, giant hammer, and stoic expression make him intimidating long before the fight begins.

You expected a few war cries before the slam of their deaths. Then a scream would ring out and all would disperse in a panicked flurry.

Except that’s not what happened.

You felt the warbling heat of a fire being ignited at your feet. In seconds, there was a gust of wind that killed the slowly increasing warmth. The previously hushed crowd began to devolve into screaming. You could feel what remained of your clothes to warp and pull in the direction of the wind.

Along with slicing, there were crackles of thunder and the furious thrum of MjonIr. Hearing the wet sounds of blood splattering and the thumps of flesh falling to the ground. The smell of iron filled your nose and the screams continued to ring out.

For people as touched in their minds as they were, you felt pity for them. Hoping to quell your love’s anger you called for him or you tried. The pain in your throat was something you’d never felt before. Feeling as though a thousand pins were stabbing you from within. When you did muster the strength of your voice, the screams had stopped and the wood around you was crunching under a boot.

Hearing the rope around you snap and unravel you let your hands naturally reach for the chiseled face of Thor. Already looking in his direction as you felt the bag on your head pull away. It is then you feel the cool and sticky coating on your lover’s face along with with the desperate look in his eyes. Wide and distraught, his eyes looked as though you’d be gone any second now. His arms wrapped around you expressing the same sentiment. You held onto him just as tightly bringing your lips closer to his, happy at the reunion alone.

Entwining your fingers in his vermillion locks, you pressed your forehead into his. Filling your vision you were surprised to have him draw you into his body once again, hungrily biting at your lips.

The love of your life was insatiable as always even among the corpses of your people.

He is your world.

And it will forever be comforting to know he’d do anything to keep it that way.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere record of ragnarok #yandere ror #yandere record of ragnarok x reader #yandere ror x reader #yandere thor x reader #yandere record of ragnarok thor x reader #yandere ror thor x reader #yandere writing #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere male x reader

129 notes · View notes

quinnoliver · 10 months

Text

Merlin: *stomach growls* sorry

Arthur: .... here, you can have a bite of my food.

Merlin: .... Really? Thanks. *Takes a drumstick*

Arthur: what, no, .... fine. You know, I must love you so much.

Merlin: what? I save your life all the time!

Arthur: so do I! Because someone likes getting his neck on the line, quite literally!

Merlin: I go to battles unarmed so I love you more!

Leon: *awkwardly* Arthur,

Arthur: you have magic! Speaking of, I'm changing the law for you!

Merlin: it was a terrible law in the first place! I love you despite you're a dollophead!

Arthur: MERLIN *throws a pillow*

Leon: time for training, my lord - *gets hit by the pillow*

Merlin: oops, sorry Leon *runs*

#fandom #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin headcanons #fanfic #merthur #merlin au #merlin incorrect quotes #leon the long suffering

195 notes · View notes

the-whispers-of-death · 6 months

Text

Reader is male & his hair is described to be long enough to reach his nape (will be explained why in the Drabble). I just made up kingdom names. Part One, Part Two TW: Blood, Gore, Death

You were standing in the middle of a battlefield, your horse most likely one of the horses that were running away from all of you. You were swinging your sword, wielding it with skill that took years of war to perfect.

Enemies and your own soldiers were falling down all around you, but you focused on the enemy king. The king of Loria, a stocky fellow who thought it was a good idea to try and invade your kingdom, Eridies. You've long forgotten his name, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that you were not going to die today. Your kingdom wasn't going to fall into his greedy, blood-soaked hands.

You sliced through the enemy soldiers who stood in between you and your foe, blood splashing on your armored uniform and your face but you pushed past all of that. Rage filled your veins as you made your way through, drawing closer and closer to the enemy king with each step you took.

"King {Name}, I'm surprised you graced us with your presence," the king sneered at you. He was slicing through your own soldiers to get to you. "I thought the reigning royals of Eridies didn't step onto a battlefield ever since your great-great-grandmother. Are you cocky enough to die by my hand?"

You didn't deign him a response, merely snarling like an enraged wolf. You lunged forward, swinging your sword. Unfortunately for you, he parried your blow and swung his own sword to quickly try and overwhelm you.

It was working, your heels trying to dig into the blood-soaked dirt as you got pushed back with each blow you parried. You kept trying to land a hit, your teeth gritted.

The king managed to unarm you of your sword, your eyes watching as it flew out of your hands and drop so far away to the side that you couldn't reach it. Knowing that you didn't have time to dive for it, the king grinned wickedly beneath his helmet as he raised his sword, aiming for your head.

"My king."

Your eyes shot open, shaking you awake from your nightmare as you sat up. One of your hands reached up to feel the hair that was growing to your nape, your hair being able to be long again since the war was over and long hair was a symbol of peace in your culture.

The war was over, you had killed the king of Loria. The war was over, you had killed the king of Loria.

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you turned your head slightly to look at the man who had woken you up. Your most trusted knight in your personal guard, one who had been with you for years.

A man most people knew as Ghost, though you knew his true name: Simon.

He wasn't wearing his signature white skull mask, only his black balaclava. He didn't even have his armor on, probably because he had been dismissed by you for the day, which meant one of the knights on the night shift had woken him up to attend to you.

"Ghost," you murmured, using his nickname since you didn't know if the knights outside were listening or not. "Why are you awake?"

Ghost, who was hovering nearby, kneeled down at your bedside. "One of the knights guarding your bedchambers woke me up, said you were whimpering. She figured that you'd appreciate it if I woke you up."

Well, that was embarrassing.

Not that you were woken up by Ghost, but rather that a knight of yours heard you whimpering in your sleep. You were a king, you didn't have the luxury of appearing weak to your subjects.

Though you suppose, being vulnerable among Ghost as your only audience was okay. He was loyal, though you never knew if it was to you or the throne, but he had seen you be vulnerable before and hadn't decided to stage a coup. So you figured you could trust him.

You ran a hand down your face as you sighed. "Had a nightmare," you said softly. "About the last battle of the war."

"You're alive, my king," Ghost replied, his gloved hand hovering in the air like he was contemplating giving you physical comfort. His hand fell to his side shortly after. "You killed King Tresniar of Loria. You won the war."

Ah, so that was what the king's name was. You probably should've remembered it, considering you're the reason Loria was in power vacuum. Perhaps you should've conquered the kingdom fully and merged it with yours.

"You're right, my dear knight." You sighed again, laying back down and getting comfortable beneath your blankets. "I should go back to sleep, both of us should."

Ghost nodded, standing up. But he didn't leave, he walked over to the wall and stood there, facing your bed. "I will stay for a while, my king. To make sure your dreams don't turn into nightmares. Sleep well, I will protect you. I swear upon it."

Hearing your most trusted knight swear to protect you made you relax, your eyes closing.

Ghost stared at your sleeping face, resolving himself to stay by your side for at least an hour before he retreated to his own bedchambers. His brown eyes softened at the sight of your chest rising and falling, a sign that you were peacefully at sleep.

Most of the other knights thought he was loyal only to the throne. The throne meant nothing to him, only that you were sat upon it. And he desperately tried to tell himself it was simply because you were a good king.

He couldn't fall in love with you, he couldn't. But he was, even if he didn't admit it.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

128 notes · View notes

jazzy125 · 2 months

Text

WATTPAD Link Above 🡡🡡🡡

Do You Enjoy Reading A Grteat Boy Love Romance?

THIS IS A MUST READ! Ive Read It 2 Times! ❤️‍🔥

I Recommend "Athenian Arrow" A Beautiful Love story About A Forbidden Romance Set In Ancient Greece <3 BRIEF SYNOPSIS BELOW🡣🡣🡣

Set during the Peloponnesian War, Athens and Sparta are battling their differences. While the leader of Sparta argues uncompromisingly with the leader of Athens, the Spartan leader's son Andreas is sent on a quest to steal supplies from Athens, unarmed. While running through the capital of Greece, he meets Athens' finest archer, Alexi. Believing that an unarmed man should not be killed, Alexi decides to not shoot the arrow he had aimed at the Spartan. But when troubles of trusting a Spartan arise, Alexi finds himself in a predicament that would change the course of his life forever, especially when the two start to develop a unique connection the more time they spend together. But with Andreas being Spartan and Alexi being Athenian, how will the two come to love while their cities are at war? Their predicament only grows more complicated when the elderly Athenian leader offers the lead position to one of his most trusted soldiers, Alexi, to lead Athens into victory and stop this war once and for all. Will Alexi accept this fortunate opportunity? Or will conflict of interest be the start of Athens' downfall?

48 notes · View notes

eksvaized · 8 months

Text

[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 9, MDNI

“You did what?!” The words tumble out of your mouth. The shock and fear cause you to speak before you can try to bite down on your tongue and think of what you want to say. Your eyes widen in horror, your vision blurring as the implications of his words settle in. As you sit next to him, your fingers run through your hair. You push loose strands out of your face. Your other hand motions towards his duffel bag stashed under the bed.

Simon tells you he ‘took care’ of the strangers. But you figure he meant something other than keeping one man captive.

Simon described how he cornered one of the men. The man was unarmed, except for a shabby kitchen knife. When the stranger attempted to flee, Simon disarmed and restrained him. But while he held the man in his grip, he started to yell. His friend, alerted by the sudden noise, came rushing towards the two of them. In his hands, he held a gun, which he didn’t hesitate to point at Simon’s head. His fingers hovered over the trigger. Yet before he could pull it, a group of trudging biters, drawn by the loud sounds, crawled out from the bushes in the backyard. Seeing this new threat and realising that he couldn’t shoot Simon without harming his friend, the gunman, overcome by panic, tried to run away. Although, he didn’t get far. He stumbled over his feet in his hurry and fell to the ground in a graceless heap. His gun slipped from his hands. Biters surrounded him, and in the blink of an eye, the man was dead.

After dragging himself and the man, who was still struggling to get free, out of the sight of the dead, so they wouldn’t become the next thing biters eat, Simon struggled to figure out what to do. He knew he should have sliced the man’s throat and be done with it. But as he hauled the stranger into the house, he realised he couldn’t do that. Before getting rid of the man, Simon needed to get some answers from him.

“What if his people come here looking for him? You can’t keep him here,” you say, your eyes fixated on Simon’s hands. He cleans his knife, wiping the sharp blade on the fabric of his black pants as if he were simply dusting off crumbs. The sight of blood makes your stomach churn. You grip the blanket, using all your strength to keep yourself from fainting. Suddenly, breathing becomes an arduous task. Each breath feels like a battle — as if you’re underwater, lungs filling with water instead of air. You gasp, desperate for oxygen. Only when Simon places his hands on your trembling shoulders and locks his eyes with yours, telling you to slow down and mimic his deep, measured breaths, do you manage to calm down and regain some semblance of control.

“I could - should - have slit his throat, I know. But first, I need to make him talk,” he says, and you nod, focusing on his brown eyes. “Perhaps they were just randomly searching this area again? They might not know that I’m here, hiding with you.”

He cups your cheeks, his warm palms enveloping your face. His thumb moves in gentle, soothing circles, caressing your skin. Leaning in, he presses his lips against your forehead. As you meet his gaze, you sense a momentary hesitation in his eyes. His muscles tense as his eyes fixate on your mouth. This is not how you had envisioned your first kiss with him, but you close the remaining distance between your faces. Your lips touch, and you can taste the faint remnants of dirt and a metallic tang on the tip of your tongue. A sheen of sweat coats his forehead, adding a subtle saltiness to the air. When you press your palm against the back of his head, you feel the texture of his unkempt hair, slightly gritty against your skin. But at the moment, none of that matters. You surrender yourself to him, feeling a fusion of warmth and tenderness. Simon doesn’t want it to end, but he musters the strength to pull away, knowing that you won’t do it. Both of you are left breathless, your chests rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes remain closed, feeling his hot breath on your skin.

“I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Simon rummages through his duffel bag. He pulls out a thick rope, another smaller knife, and a pistol that looks to have seen better days. You watch him as he checks the chamber of the gun. His face contorting with a muttered curse when he sees it is empty. Unfazed, he reaches into the side pocket of the bag and scoops up some loose bullets, which clink together with a metallic sound.

“I’m going to check on him,” he says, pushing himself off the bed. As he stands, his fingers brush through your hair in a soothing gesture. His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze. “You stay here, okay?” His voice is firm, leaving no room for negotiation. You nod, and he rewards you with a faint smile that quickly vanishes. “And… Don’t go into the basement.”

You follow Simon’s instructions, refusing to venture downstairs. Determined to avoid the haunting echoes of the man’s guttural groans as Simon delivers blow after blow in a desperate effort to make the stranger speak, you distance yourself as much as possible from the door. For some time, you silence the world and the chaos in your mind by focusing on the fact that you and Simon kissed. Your fingertips trace over the contour of your lips. The sensation prompts you to bite the inside of your cheek. It feels like a swarm of butterflies in your stomach is trying to get free.

The day has been a rollercoaster, a whirlwind of emotions that has left you feeling like a boat drifting aimlessly in a vast, stormy ocean. Anxiety anchors you down. You can’t stop tugging at the loose thread on the bottom of your shirt. Yet a part of you feels happy. This happiness, however, is tainted by a creeping guilt. It slithers into your mind like fog seeping into a valley, clouding your joy. You feel as though you should care more about other things — the fact that your family is still missing, or that Simon is beating up some stranger in your basement — but no matter how hard you try to focus and ground yourself, come back to the harsh reality, your thoughts drift back to Simon like a moth drawn to a flame. All you can think about is the taste of his lips and how much you want to kiss him again.

After everything quiets down, and you can’t hear a single sound coming from the basement, you creep downstairs. You walk towards the basement door. The shadows swallow you as you press your ear against the rough wood. A sense of anxiety grips you, preventing you from daring to step inside the basement. But you realise that you don’t need to, anyway. You can hear Simon and the stranger’s muffled voices. The thick wooden door obscures their words, but as you strain your ears, you can catch bits and pieces of their conversation.

Simon’s voice sounds agitated. He talks in short, clipped sentences. You can only imagine the vexed expression on his face. The only time you can recall him being so furious is when you first met him and got into a fight with him. The stranger - whose name you still don’t know - says nothing at first. However, as Simon’s onslaught continues, he has enough of Simon’s interrogating and cracks, revealing how he and his people are still tracking Simon. The stranger mentions that there’s a bounty set on Simon’s head. Whoever brings him back to the base gets rewarded. When Simon fires back, questioning why they didn’t cease their relentless pursuit, the man’s response is chilling. He admits they revel in the thrill of the chase, in watching Simon run, in knowing that sooner or later he would be caught. And when that day comes, Simon will pay for what he and his team did.

You retreat from the door, unable to bear listening any longer. You need a pause, a moment to collect the shards of your shattered emotions. Your arms wrap around your body in a protective, almost self-soothing gesture. Slowly, you let your knees buckle and you slide down the door, coming to rest on the cold, hard floor. The thought of someone turning murder into a twisted game, deriving some sick sense of glee from ending another person’s life, is something you can’t fathom. You lose track of the rest of their conversation; the words fading into the background. There are moments when you struggle to make out what is being said. But then, out of nowhere, you hear it - your brother’s name. It cuts through the monotonous drone of their conversation. You know that this isn’t just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Disregarding your promise to Simon to stay away, you swing the door open. The rusty hinges protest with a loud creak. You rush down the staircase, your heart pounding in rhythm with your hurried steps. Your feet, barely touching the ground, slide on the worn-out, slippery wooden steps, each one threatening to send you tumbling down into the darkness. However, as you teeter on the edge of losing your balance, you catch yourself in the nick of time, thrusting your body against the railing. You feel it shudder and strain under the unexpected weight of your panicked descent, vibrating with the force of your sudden movement.

A sight that greets you freezes you in your tracks, but only for a fleeting moment. The only light source in the basement is a candle. Its flame flickering on its last breath, clinging to life atop a table, which is a graveyard of old, dusty plastic boxes. The stranger is bound to a chair. His boots are conspicuously absent, and his face is a gruesome canvas of blood. Mingling with the acrid smell of fear, the unmistakable stench of iron lingers in the air. Simon is gripping a knife that is stained with crimson; his knuckles are bruised. The man’s chest bears a series of fresh, shallow cuts, creating a macabre pattern. The room is filled with a tense silence, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the chair and the rhythmic drip of blood onto the floor.

“Didn’t I make it clear? I told you to stay upstairs,” Simon’s piercing gaze lands on you. He radiates anger, a simmering frustration that’s palpable. Yet upon seeing your face, the hard edges of his demeanour soften, just enough for you to notice, but not enough to prevent you from taking a step back.

“He… he mentioned him,” you try your best to maintain your composure, to sound calm and collected, but it is futile. Each word you utter comes out in a rush. They tumble over each other faster than your brain can process what you’re saying. “He said my brother’s name.”

The man throws back his head and laughs. He runs his tongue across his lips, trying to wipe away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. You glance at the stranger. When he looks back at you, you cannot withstand the eye contact and shift your gaze back to Simon.

“How do you know Y/B/N?” Simon asks. When the man refuses to speak, Simon walks over to him. He reaches out his hand and grabs a fistful of the stranger’s hair. He yanks the man’s head back in a brutal motion. That forces him to look up; you see, as his eyes dart between Simon and you. “I suggest you start talking before I continue carving you,” Simon growls, raising his other hand so the man can see him twirling the blade in his fingers. “Or better - if you remain silent - I’ll cut out your tongue,” he brushes the edge of the blade against the man’s mouth and then uses the tip of it to part his lips. “After all, you seem to have no use for it—” Simon pushes the knife deeper, laying it flat on the man’s tongue, causing him to gag. “—and just to make it interesting, I’ll even feed it to you.”

Under different circumstances, Simon’s behaviour, his words, sharp and hurtful, and the threats that he so casually tossed around like loose change, would have made your skin crawl. But right now, you don’t have the time to dwell on it.

“He’s one of the prisoners.” the man says, his voice wavering. Then he falls silent. It’s clear from his eyes that he doesn’t want to say more. As Simon’s knee collides with his stomach, he opens his mouth again. “The base is enormous. We need people to manage it… to do things we don’t want to, like killing the dead who sneak inside the perimeter or cook and serve food.”

The stranger continues, his voice growing steadier as he pulls himself together. He says that when he and his people venture out, if they encounter other survivors, who appear to be in good shape, healthy, not bitten or injured, they bring them back to the base.

“What about the woman he was with?” You ask when the man mentions your brother was with an older woman, whose description matches your mother’s. “Is she with him now? Are they together?”

“She was bitten,” the man says. He takes a deep breath before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground near your feet. A sadistic glint appears in his eyes as he realises who the woman you’re asking about is. He seems to enjoy the suspense before the next words leave his lips. His voice is cruel and devoid of any sympathy. “We don’t have any use for dead weight in our group. So, I did what was necessary–put a bullet through her skull.”

The next few minutes are a disorienting blur. Relief washes over you as you realise your brother is still alive. But this joy is quickly overshadowed by the chilling reality that the man - who is grinning and looking at you - killed your mother. Simon blows out the candle, letting darkness engulf the space. He then guides you up the stairs. When you stumble, he insists you sit on the couch. It’s only when he returns, holding a half-empty water bottle, that you notice he has left. As you attempt to drink, a soft whimper escapes your lips. It causes water to spill from the corners of your mouth and the bottle to slip from your trembling hands.

With teary eyes, you glance at Simon. His gaze, filled with concern, meets yours, taking in raw the torment etched across your face. He wants to help, to ease your pain, but he doesn’t know how. When your sobs break the silence, he sits next to you. His arms wrap around your shoulders, and he pulls you into his embrace, drawing you onto his lap. You bury your face in his chest. Your hot tears soak the fabric of his shirt. He remains silent, knowing words will do little to console you right now. But you don’t care for words. The world around you spins. It feels as if the ground is slipping from underneath you. And you just need him there. You need him to be with you and hold you.

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset, @lurkinwbreexy, @breadpitt69, @browtfyoudoing, @yelenassafeplace, @itsthealice If you want to be added, let me know!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #writing #call of duty #cod #ghost x you #ghost cod #ghost #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #fem!reader #ap2 #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse

108 notes · View notes