#cape billowing behind him

[lokislytherin]

lookism dnd au?

if you see this and wanna art PLEASE i’m thinking of doing this for nanowrimo and actually making it novel-length and it would be cool to have concept art! of course with credit where credit is due i always give credit

[hanzajesthanza]

if vilgefortz is so evil why is he so quotable. or perhaps being evil and being quotable do not contradict one another, but instead correlate

[terminalmemes]

Last night I was talking to my bro in the winco parking lot when suddenly two guys on lime scooters sped in, one of them was literally dressed like the Burger King. So like mid-conversation I was like “bro hold on. That guy is dressed like Burger King” and Alfonzo was like “yeah man” like it was obvious. And I mean yeah it was the winco parking lot at 11pm so I guess he had a point. Anyways we forgot what we had been talking about before

[asyourshadowfalls]

"The Books are good" okay i'm so ready for a series on Father Amorth cause that movie was so much funnier than I expected

[yannawayne]

INJUSTICE 2 INTRO INTERACTIONS. batboys x villain! reader

SYNOPSIS: I have very specific and odd hyperfixiations. Warnings for typical blood and violence + suggestive flirting in Dick, Jason, and Tim.

-> BATMAN X ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! BATMOM -> NIGHTWING X CATGIRL! READER -> REDHOOD X AMAZON! JOKER'S KILLER! READER -> RED ROBIN X IVY! READER -> DAMIAN X FORMER ARRANGED L.O.A WIFE! BLIND! READER

──────── ⵌ GAME LOADING ...

-> BATMAN X ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! BATMOM

Bruce is transported to an alternate universe where you two were never in love and instead enemies. He can't bare to see what you might have become without him or his sons.

(Bruce slowly removes his cowl, revealing his pained blue eyes staring at you, filled with sorrow and longing.)

BRUCE: "You'd be proud of the men our sons have become."

(You tighten your grip on your sword, the knuckles turning white. For a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses your face, but you quickly mask it with indifference. You shake your head and raise your blade.)

AU! BATMOM: "They mean nothing in this world."

(With a burst of speed, you launch yourself at him, the clash of metal on metal resonating through the night as your blade meets his defense. The force of your attack drives Bruce back a step, but he holds his ground.)

BRUCE: "In mine, they are everything because of you."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(A cloud of smoke erupts, obscuring the dimly lit alley as Bruce emerges from the shadows. His cape billows behind him, creating a striking silhouette against the flickering streetlights.)

BRUCE: "Our sons would never recognize you like this."

(You stand still for a moment, the sharp slice of blades cutting through the air as you flip them effortlessly. The sound is a whisper of danger. Your stance is guarded, eyes steely and cold, betraying no emotion.)

AU! BATMOM: "Good. I have no use for children."

(Bruce scowls, the harsh lines on his face deepening. He curls his hand into a fist, muscles tensing visibly under his suit, readying himself for the inevitable confrontation.)

BRUCE: "But every son deserves a mother’s love, no matter the universe."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce reaches into his utility belt with practiced ease, pulling out two Batarangs. He holds them firmly, the metal cool and reassuring in his grip)

BRUCE: "I can't look at you without seeing her."

(You lift your chin defiantly, a sharp smile playing on your lips.)

AU! BATMOM: "Ha! I am not your wife."

(Bruce frowns, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weapons closer to his face, preparing to defend. He refuses to fight you.)

BRUCE: " "But you wear her face, and that’s enough to remind me of what I’ve lost."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce maneuvers the Batmobile with precision, stopping abruptly before flipping out and landing on the ground.)

BRUCE: "I see the pain behind your eyes. It's the same pain she hides."

(You huff, striding towards him with purpose. The sword at your hip sings as you draw it, the blade catching the light ominously.)

AU! BATMOM: "Don't presume to know me."

(Bruce stands straighter, his glare unwavering as he meets your gaze head-on.)

BRUCE: "I know her, and that’s why I can’t give up on you."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce holds a photo in his hands, a photo of your family. His eyes soften as he looks at it, his grip tender despite the battle raging around him.)

BRUCE: "I dream of bringing her here to show you what you could be."

(Your back is turned against him, but you slowly face his way, the sound of your sword being unsheathed filling the tense silence.)

AU! BATMOM: "Dreams are for the weak."

(Bruce pockets the photo with care, then assumes a combat stance, his eyes never leaving yours.)

BRUCE: "No, they’re for the hopeful. And I will never stop hoping for you."

 ༻⊰───⋅ (Bruce grunts as your legs tighten around him, choking him. His face contorts with effort as he twists his body, managing to knock you off and get to his feet, breathing heavily.)

BRUCE: "In my world, you're my everything. Here, you're my nightmare."

(You walk off the fall and stand tall, your posture defiant and unwavering. A cold smirk plays on your lips as you step toward him.)

AU! BATMOM: "Dreams and nightmares are two sides of the same coin, Bat."

(Bruce braces himself, legs apart, muscles coiled like a spring, preparing for the inevitable clash.)

Batman: "I just wish I could flip it back."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> NIGHTWING X CATGIRL! READER

You've been playing this cat-and-bat chase ever since he was Robin. Now as Nightwing, he can't help but long for something deeper.

(You perch on a rooftop edge, your silhouette lit by the moonlight as you smirk down at him. Leaping from the edge, you flip gracefully through the air before landing in a crouch in front of him.)

CATGIRL: "You know, curiosity killed the cat."

(Dick steps towards you, pulling his escrima sticks from his back. He hits them together, producing a crackle of electricity that illuminates the smirk on his face.)

NIGHTWING: "Good thing satisfaction brought it back."

(Purring, you trail your claws down your chest, your eyes locked on his.)

CATGIRL: "Show me how you satisfy, Nightwing."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick whistles as he walks towards you in his police uniform, swinging handcuffs with his fingers. The polished badge on his chest glints under the bank’s dim lights.)

OFFICER! GRAYSON: "Why don't you switch sides? You'd make a great hero."

(You laugh and stalk towards him, not even bothering to avoid the tripwires in the bank. The alarms remain silent, disabled by your expert touch.)

CATGIRL: "A kitty in a cape? Not my style."

(Dick shakes his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he unlatches the handcuffs, the metal clinking softly.)

OFFICER! GRAYSON: "You could do so much good, you know."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Laughing, you knock Dick to the ground, but with a swift move, he rolls you over, tackling you to the side and straddling you with a grin.)

NIGHTWING: "I know all your weak spots."

(You feel the heat of his body against yours, but you twist from his grip, slipping out and flipping away to a safe distance. You land lightly on your feet, drawing your claws with a predatory smile.)

CATGIRL: "You think you can make me purr?"

(Dick smirks, his eyes glinting with challenge. He rolls his shoulders, the muscles rippling under his suit, and tosses his head back.)

NIGHTWING: "I’ll have you screaming my name."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick watches as you strut along the edge of a building, hips swaying with each step, your balance effortless. )

NIGHTWING: "You know, Blüdhaven could use someone like you."

(You toss your head back with a playful smile, bending before executing a flawless flip towards him, landing gracefully.)

CATGIRL: "What, their own version of Catwoman?"

(Dick’s expression softens, the playful smile fading from his face, replaced by a more earnest look. He steps towards you and twirls his escrima sticks in the air.)

NIGHTWING: "No. Another hero."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You flip yourself over a rooftop edge, your hair falling in loose waves as you look down at Nightwing's panting form from above.)

CATGIRL: "What's the matter, Nightwing? Can't handle a little cat-and-bat chase?"

(Dick grins and throws his head back to look up at you, exposing the strong line of his jaw. Beads of sweat trickle down his face and neck, glistening in the moonlight. With a slow motion, he tucks his batons back into his back.)

NIGHTWING: "Oh. I can handle a lot more than that."

(Smirking, you slip off the rooftop and land right in front of him with a thud. You purr as you step closer, lashing your whip around you.)

CATGIRL: "Prove it, and I might let you handle me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Snarling, Dick licks at the stripe of blood running over his lip. You saunter a few feet away, licking your canines, which are stained with his blood.)

NIGHTWING: "You know, we could stop all this fighting."

(You smirk and draw your claws, eyes narrowing into slits.)

CATGIRL: "And what would we do instead, loverboy?"

(Dick smirks and crosses his arms, giving you a tantalizing view of his biceps, the fabric of his suit straining slightly.)

NIGHTWING: "I have a few ideas. None of them involve clothes."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick speeds through the city on his motorcycle, the engine roaring beneath him. With a swift, fluid motion, he flips off the bike, landing perfectly on his feet. The bike crashes in the distance, a burst of sparks lighting up.)

NIGHTWING: "You keep running, but I’ll always catch you."

(You turn to face him, a sharp smile playing on your lips, a shiny new jewel glinting in your hand under the moonlight.)

CATGIRL: "Maybe I just like the chase."

(Dick rolls his eyes, a mix of exasperation and amusement crossing his face, before he drops into a fighting stance, tensed and ready.)

NIGHTWING: "How about we skip to the part where I pin you down?"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The jail cell door clanks shut as Dick locks you inside. You coo at him, reaching out to cup his cheek, but he knocks your hand away, his eyes filled with anger.)

NIGHTWING: "Every time you run, it feels like you’re slipping away from me."

(You frown and move away, slipping back into the shadows of the cell, the dim light casting eerie patterns on your figure.)

CATGIRL: "Running is all I know."

(Dick frowns, his hand tightening on the cold metal bars. His voice is filled with a deep, aching sincerity as he gazes into the darkness where you stand.)

NIGHTWING: "I just wish you'd run towards me instead."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> REDHOOD X AMAZON! READER

Wonder Woman's daughter, once a proud heroine, now an outcast from the League after you killed the Joker in a vengeful rage for your lover's death. You try to run, he doesn't let you.

(With a fierce cry, you bring your sword down in a powerful arc, slicing through your enemies. Blood sprays as you cut down your chasers, the ground beneath you becoming slick with the crimson evidence of your wrath. You turn around just in time to see Jason charging towards you.)

A: "Cease this. The League will hunt me down like an animal."

(Jason scowls, his expression dark as he cocks his guns and reloads his rubber bullets. He barrels into the fray, firing relentlessly and mowing down the wave of heroes coming after you.)

JASON: "They won’t touch you as long as I’m breathing."

(You spin, delivering a bone-crushing blow to an opponent's jaw, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath your knuckles.)

A: "You can’t fight the whole League, my love! I’m a liability."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Jason frowns and reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into his arms. The battle still thrums in the air around you, but in this moment, it's just the two of you.)

JASON: "Don’t let B’s opinion define you."

(You knock him away with a fierce shove, drawing your shield up defensively. Your sword hangs by your side, stained with the blood of your enemies, the weight of it a reminder of your actions.)

A: "He’s your father. His scorn is a heavy burden to bear."

(Jason steps forward, dropping his guns. He cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, his touch both gentle and firm.)

JASON: "To hell with what he thinks. I love you, and that’s what matters."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The two of you circle each other, eyes locked in their own battle. Jason's guns are pointed at you, his face twisted in agony.)

JASON: "I hate that your hands are bloodied for my sake."

(You drop your shield and sword, the clatter of metal echoing in the tense silence. Raising your stained hands, you step closer, showing him the blood that marks your skin.)

A: "I’d stain them a thousand times for you."

(Jason's eyes flicker with pain and frustration as he lowers his guns.)

JASON: "And I wanted to keep them clean."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(With a growl, you swing your sword at Jason, the blade whistling through the air. He ducks, rolling to the side and coming up with his guns aimed at you. You charge forward, deflecting his shots with your shield.)

JASON: "You think running away will solve anything?"

(You catch his leg with your shield, throwing him off balance before punching him in the jaw.)

A: "You don’t understand the price I’ve paid!"

(Jason wipes the blood from his lip, eyes flashing with anger and sorrow as he lunges at you.)

JASON:"I understand more than you think! And I’m here to help you!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You stand at the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping through your hair as you face Jason. Swinging your sword, you knock it against your shield, the clang echoing in the open air.)

A: "You think you’re man enough to stop me?"

(Jason scoffs as you lunge at him. He blocks your hit, twisting your arm behind your back and pulling you close.)

JASON: "I’ve got the scars to prove it."

(You twist out of his grip, using your strength to knock him to his back. You pick your shield back up, foot moving to press down on him.)

A: "Show me those scars up close."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You scream as you're thrown back with his kick, your back slamming into the wall. Gasping for breath, you watch as Jason reaches for your shield, which had been knocked away during the fight. He picks it up and walks over to you, dropping it to your feet.)

JASON: "They say love makes you do crazy things."

(You take the shield from him, your breath still heavy from the exertion. You stand tall, despite the pain coursing through your body.)

A: "Like taking a life for the one you love?"

(Jason's gaze intensifies, and he steps closer.)

JASON: "Like risking your heart for a broken soul like mine."

 ༻⊰───⋅

RED ROBIN X IVY! READER

Poison Ivy's protégé, you and Tim couldn't be more different. He thrives on technology and his man-made gadgets, while you draw your strength from the untamed power of the green.

(A large vine from above dips down, its lush, green leaves swaying gently as you perch on it. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you look down at Tim.)

IVY: "You think you can handle all this greenery, techie?"

(Tim smirks, twirling a small device in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the device emits a pulse, causing the vine to tremble and wither.)

R! ROBIN: "I’ve got a green thumb, but I'd rather get my hands on you."

(You slide down the vine, landing gracefully in front of him, your eyes narrowing. You summon a thick vine to wrap around his legs, but Tim's quick reflexes kick in as he flips over it, landing in a crouch.)

IVY: "Hm. Only if you promise to get dirty."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim steps closer, his expression softening as he activates his bo staff, the weapon extending with a mechanical whir. He swings it in a wide arc, deflecting the thorny vines you hurl at him.)

R! ROBIN: "You're not like her, you know."

(You scoff, crossing your arms as a cluster of flowers bloom at your feet. You raise your hand, sending a barrage of petals sharp as knives his way. Tim deftly spins his staff, creating a shield.)

IVY: "Who, Ivy? Maybe not yet."

(Tim's eyes soften, his grip on the staff loosening slightly as he steps closer.)

R! ROBIN: "And you don't have to be."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You pace around him, a vine curling up from the ground and snaking towards his feet. Tim notices and sidesteps, slashing at the vine with his staff.)

IVY: "Ever think about leaving the Bat?"

(Tim frowns, his bo staff sweeping down to cut the vine before it can ensnare him.)

R! ROBIN: "Ever think about leaving Ivy?"

(You grin, a sly smile playing on your lips as you summon a wall of thorns behind him. He leaps backward, landing nimbly on top of the thorns, balancing effortlessly.)

IVY: "Touché."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim looks around at the flourishing plants, his staff humming with energy as he uses his tech to scan for weaknesses in your creations.)

R! ROBIN: "I see you've been busy with your plants again."

(You gently caress a leaf, your voice soft as a tendril wraps around his ankle. He quickly discharges an electric shock from his staff, causing the tendril to release him.)

IVY: "They listen better than people do."

(Tim's staff whirls, cutting through the tendril effortlessly as he advances.)

R! ROBIN: "Maybe you just need the right person to listen."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he disarms a trap you set with a quick twist of his wrist. He flips over another set of vines you send his way, landing in a crouch.)

R! ROBIN: "Your touch brings life to these plants."

(You raise an eyebrow, intrigued as flowers bloom around you. You step down from your vine and saunter toward him.)

IVY: "Imagine what it could do to you."

(Tim smiles, a challenge in his eyes as he deactivates his staff, stepping closer.)

R! ROBIN: "I’m willing to find out."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim walks towards you, engrossed with the device on his wrist, tapping on the holographic table that hovers above it.)

IVY: "What’s a techie like you doing in a place like this?"

(Your voice coos at him as you emerge from the ground, vines whipping all around you. Tim smirks and turns his attention back to you, the holograph shutting off.)

R! ROBIN: "Looking for a beautiful flower to pick."

(You smirk, your vines thriving in the light as you swipe at him, narrowly missing. He ducks and rolls, coming up with a blade ready. Scoffing, you trace a hand up your neck, your eyes narrowing with playful menace.)

IVY: "Just make sure you can handle the thorns."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim reaches out, brushing his fingers against a blossom, his staff ready at his side as he keeps an eye on you.)

R! ROBIN: "We could build something beautiful together."

(You shake your head, a hint of sadness in your voice as you create a protective barrier of foliage around yourself. Tim uses his tech to create a small opening, stepping through it.)

IVY: "Beautiful things always wither and die."

(Tim takes your hand, squeezing it gently as he deactivates his staff, the barrier of foliage parting around you. He pulls you closer, his voice soft and earnest.)

R! ROBIN: "Not if we tend to them with care."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> DAMIAN X L.O.A! READER

Arranged to marry since birth by Talia, Damian had promised to be yours for life. However, after his betrayal of the League, he left you behind. You were labeled as a co-conspirator, and as punishment for his treason, you were blinded.

(Blades glint under the dim light as you twirl your fan, the air around you whistling with its sharp edges. Damian stands a few feet away, his katana ready in his hand, emerald eyes fixed on you.)

DAMIAN: "Has my mother sent you?"

(You laugh and throw your head back in disbelief. The cloth wrapped around your eye flows in the wind. Raising a hand, you slip it off and show him your empty eyes.)

L.O.U: "Do I look like her pawn? Do you not see what she has done to me? This is my kill, not hers."

(Damian's eyes narrow, his stance shifting as he prepares to engage. )

DAMIAN: "Then why do you hesitate?"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You feel the rush of air as Damian's katana swings towards you. Instinctively, you duck and counter with a sweeping arc of your fan, sensing his presence.)

L.O.U: "You walked away from everything."

(Damian's footsteps echo as he moves swiftly, his voice carrying a note of deep regret.)

DAMIAN: "Only to realize everything is you, habibti."

(You pivot on your heel, using your heightened senses to track his position, your fan poised to strike again.)

L.O.U: "Fool! You think words can mend this?!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The sound of his breath and the shuffle of his feet guide you as you launch a series of rapid strikes. Damian blocks each one, his katana creating a rhythmic pattern against your fan. Finally, he pushes his blade against yours, locking it between his fist.)

DAMIAN: "Beloved, losing your sight... I did not know my mother... I cannot even imagine—"

(You lash out with your fan, the blades narrowly missing Damian’s face as he parries with his katana. You both step back, circling each other, the tension between you palpable.)

L.O.U: "I do not need your pity, bastard!"

(Damian's eyes harden, but his voice remains soft.)

DAMIAN: "Not pity. Guilt. And a desperate need to make things right."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You leap forward, your fan spinning with deadly precision. Damian blocks the first strike but then purposefully drops his katana, stepping into your range. You scoff, surprised, as he grabs your wrist and forces you to drop your fan.)

L.O.U: "You think your guilt means anything to me?"

(Damian's movements falter for a brief moment, his voice raw with emotion. You kick and scream against his chest so hard he felt as though there would be bruises but he could care less.)

DAMIAN: "It tears me apart every day."

(You pull back, freeing your wrist and shifting into a defensive stance, your voice dripping with bitterness.)

L.O.U: "Good. Now you know a fraction of my pain."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Without your weapons, you both engage in a flurry of hand-to-hand combat. Damian blocks your strikes, deflecting your blows with minimal force, showing his reluctance to hurt you.)

DAMIAN: "Our marriage was more than a strategy to me."

(You laugh, a harsh sound, as you aim a kick at his midsection. He catches your leg and gently sets it down.)

L.O.U: "Yes. It was a lie."

(With a scream of anger, you tackle him, but he twists mid-fall, using his momentum to pin you to the ground. You struggle beneath him but he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear.)

DAMIAN: "No, it was the most real thing I've known."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Wind whirls as you scream and hurl your fans in his direction. The blades spin through the air, nearly striking him, but he dodges with a series of agile flips. Laughing haughtily, you reach for your dagger in your belt.) L.O.U: "What do you desire, Habibi?"

(You advance on him, your steps swift and deliberate, knives dancing between your fingers. You hear a thud as Damian lands back on his feet with a grunt.) DAMIAN: "You. Only you."

(You scoff and fling another fan at him. He sidesteps and deflects it with his katana, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp hiss. Undeterred, you rush forward, using your heightened senses to anticipate his next move. Your fan blades clash against his katana in a shower of sparks.) L.O.U: "Then come and claim me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You sit on a stone bench in the garden of his new home. Wayne Manor, he had said. The night air was cool against your skin. Footsteps echo as Damian approaches, his katana sheathed at his side. He sits beside you, his gaze filled with longing.)

DAMIAN: "I dreamt of you every night."

(You scoff and trace the edge of your fan, the blades cool under your fingers.)

L.O.U: "Did you dream of my pain as well?"

(Damian’s expression turns into anguish, his hand reaching out to cover yours. A thumb moves to caress the metal band on your finger.)

DAMIAN: "Yes, and it’s unbearable."

 ༻⊰───⋅

ive been playing this damn game and mk1 for dddays

[cassandracain52]

Reverse trope

where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t

_______

Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!

Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!

Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not

Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: …… Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)

Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-

Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-

____

or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)

*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*

Jason: Really?

Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Steph: It’s the truth Damian: Both my parents are very much alive

Steph: Shhh you don’t count

Cass: Mine too Duke: Technically so are mine

Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that

Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE

Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???

Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE

*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*

Tim: well that’s more accurate at least

Steph: :)

_____

Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-

Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening

Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!

Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?

Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!

The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O

Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts

Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-

A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)

Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often

It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-

and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on

She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.

Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence

Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter

Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail

The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There

Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud

Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers

Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)

Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again

[grandline-fics]

Oou can you do one piece men catching you in their clothes?? I've always liked this trope (?) cause i just find it so cute especially one who have like giant coats and capes like coras :D

DESCRIPTION: They catch you wearing their clothes

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff. established relationship with Crocodile. Mutual crush in Cora's/Rosi's

CHARACTERS: Crocodile, Corazon

WORDS: 1,749

A/N: Thank you for this request! I'm a sucker for this trope. Since no specific characters were requested I went for Cora and Croc because of the big coats. If you'd like any other characters for this idea just let me know! This was my first time writing for Cora so hopefully I did him justice and that you're happy with the end results for these.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

CROCODILE

You admired Crocodile for his rigid work ethic and extreme focus, always making sure everything was done perfectly and without error. Even in the days of running a casino simply to act as a cover for his real dealings in Alabasta he made sure it was run smoothly and properly. However sometimes his hard work interfered with any time you two could actually spend together because of how focussed he'd become. You never needed to bring this up to him because when he did have the time to tear himself away from his work it was you he immediately sought and would comment about how much he’d been away from you. You were more than used to his behaviour by now. However one afternoon as you leant against the doorframe and watched him work diligently a curious thought that you’d never really considered before crept into your mind; what would pull his focus and make Crocodile immediately stop working?

At first you decided to start small, bringing him lunch and set it on his desk, watching as he murmured a thanks and managed to perfectly skewer the sandwich with his hook and ate it without any spilling out. As he ate, his eyes remained on the paperwork he was writing. With pursed lips you stepped behind his chair and slowly draped your arm around his shoulder. Your hand settled on his chest just as he finished eating. “Hey, love. Can-?”

“Anything you want.” Crocodile’s response was automatic and his body was still unmoving from his work. You couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, that Crocodile's want to give you anything you desired managed to break partially through his focus but it wasn't the real break in attention you wanted. 

You weren’t even going to initially ask him for anything in particular, just a mundane question to see if he'd answer. Now though he'd practically given you permission for anything you could think of. Smiling you pressed a quick kiss against his cheek and straightened, your fingers skimming against the large fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders as you did so and suddenly an idea came to you. With casual strides you made your way to your shared room with Crocodile and threw open the doors to his wardrobe. Your eyes roamed over his clothes with appreciation, everything made with the best quality materials by the finest tailors. Sometimes you felt hesitant to touch such finery but not today, he'd given you permission after all. Immediately your eyes went to your favourite coat he owned. The deep black fabric and matching fur trim were simple but striking and with the gold buttons and dark green satin lining it was just enough to draw anyone's eye. 

With a hum you slipped the coat on and grinned in the mirror at how the garment wrapped around you. It was so long on you that it trailed behind you. Leaving the room you walked back down the corridor, trying not to enjoy how his coat billowed behind you. It made sense know why he wore them now. You glanced up to see you were nearing his office and you decided that first you were going to simply walk by the open door. However you were no sooner passed the doorway when a gust of sand appeared and wrapped around your waist, lifting you off of your feet and pulling you backwards and into the room with the door closing behind you. Perched on Crocodile’s desk you stared at your lover as he sat back in his seat, watching you intently and his paperwork abandoned. “Care to explain?”

“Was curious.” You shrugged with a triumphant smile, having succeeded your goal.

“About?” 

“Wondered what it’d take to distract you from your work.”

“Dear, just because I’m looking at my work doesn't mean I’m never aware of your presence.” Crocodile explained as he gently took hold of the lapel of his coat that you were wearing and pulled you closer. Usually he loved the sight of you out of clothes but he had to admit seeing you in something of his only deepened his feelings of possessiveness, an extra claim that you were his   not that that was ever in doubt. “I will admit this is a sight I could get used to, although I think my work would certainly suffer as a result.”

“Still not seeing a downside to this.” You grinned up at him with a smug smile as you settled your hand over his. “I’m keeping this one by the way.”

“My love, it’s a commissioned make. No other exists. Wouldn’t you settle for your own? One that fits you better?” He was mostly teasing. Of course if your heart was set on it he wouldn’t object but would still plan on stealing it from you should the occasion call for it.

“I think this one suits me just fine but I'll be kind and share but only if I’m repaid with a kiss.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

CORAZON / ROSINANTE

Rosinante stared out at the wintery expanse blankly, his dark eyes set on the people bustling about in the town below. They were used to the terrain, born and raised on the winter dominated island. With it being a day with light snowfall and cracks of blue appearing in the sky the people seemed in lighter spirits. Nice to see but it made his task of observing a possible threat harder. It was rare to have a mission set for him by his brother also overlap and bring some good for the Marines too but they did happen. If this man did prove himself to be a danger, he’d be dealt with swiftly and it’d be one less criminal in the world. Doffy would be satisfied too, not that that particular aspect would be a big factor in his actions but it would mean his undercover role would remain intact.

He blinked out of his concentration when the cigarette in his mouth was promptly stolen from his painted lips and he looked to see you stub it out into the snow with a low fizzle. Rosinante said nothing and continued to observe you as you settled onto the flattened patch of snow beside him. Feeling his stare you met his gaze and smiled sweetly. “Don't pout. I’m just looking out for your health here. Any movement?” 

At your question, Rosinante activated his power to create the soundproof area for you both. While you were both concealed from the view of others he never liked to take any chances of your conversations to be heard. With you here, your own cover was just as at risk as his should the wrong person find out and the last thing he wanted was to put you in danger even though you too had given your life to that of a double agent and spy. “Nothing yet.”

Getting to hear Rosinante’s deep voice always made you happy, part of you always thought he might be lonely in some strange way in having to remain silent in order to keep his true role a secret. It also made you happy because it meant you were someone he trusted in revealing his voice too, and what a lovely voice it was too. Such a shame practically no-one got to hear it. Knowing your roles and what you were here to do, you both kept conversation to a minimum, Rosinante using his notepad to make longer notes to you while also keeping the feathers of his coat in front of his mouth to hide his minimal verbal responses just in case someone should spot you both and see his lips moving.

For ages you both sat and fulfilled your watch until you both noticed the sun setting. Still no further forward in confirmation of the threat and his rumoured weapons smuggling from his store, you both knew that you’d have another day of investigating ahead of you. With a tired groan you stood and finally took note of how cold and numb your limbs were because of the snow. Smiling you offered your hand to your partner and helped him get to his feet. 

However his unfortunately chronic clumsiness finally reared its head and Rosinante tumbled over, knocking you back down onto the untouched snow pile away from where you'd both been sitting in and now you were soaked and your body immediately began to tremble. With chattering teeth and shaking hands you allowed yourself to be pulled out of the snow by a very apologetic Rosinante who'd managed to stay dry. You could barely brush the excess snow off of yourself and seeing your struggle, your mission partner stepped in, dusting you off as gently as possible but only kept his movements reserved for your head and shoulders. As much as he’d known his attraction for you, he refused to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable regardless of how innocent his intentions were. He just knew he’d need to get you warm fast to avoid you getting sick.

You’d never been more happy to step into the room at the inn you and Rosinante were sharing, making a beeline for the bathroom to shower and get warm. When you were changed into fresh clothes you felt the difference but the chill still clung to your body and you shivered harshly as you stepped out into the room, confused to see Rosinante was gone but the fire in the room was burning with his feather coat hanging near it. Swiftly you hurried forward and bundled the coat into your arms to avoid another accident from occurring. With a sigh and shake of your head you went to set his coat on his bed only to pause when you felt how soft and warm it was. Unable to resist you pulled it on and curled up in one of the armchairs. Finally feeling your body heat you sighed in satisfaction.

Rosinante returned not long after with an extra blanket that he’d been searching for under his arm. He froze at the sight and his heart involuntarily began to beat faster. Seeing you so peaceful and wrapped up in his clothes it was more than he could bear. He didn’t think his affection and attraction for you could grow anymore but it did and from such a simple thing. It made him all the more resolved to ensure that he would keep you safe.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e

[fukcnoplease]

Things always go wrong

Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5

Danny paced the halls of pariah dark’s castle, well his castle but even after a few years he wasn't used to that, as Frostbite watched in silence. His king isn't usually this restless before a council meeting but his distress was understandable. As his eighteenth birthday approached the council was getting more and more pushy for Danny to take up his role as king. Frostbite had used his leeway to allow the young king time to grow up and in the four years since his first transformation he had only been called to council a handful of times. It was an impressive feat less because they needed a king and more because the observers were anxious to keep the young king on a leash. 

This council meeting was called hastily as the anti-ecto laws had been passed recently and the GIW as well as the Fenton parents had become bolder in their pursuit of ghosts. The Fentons had almost captured one of Danny's rogues and it was too close of a call for the council to overlook. 

On top of that Dani was supposed to be coming home today. The young clone had taken to traveling the world as soon as she was free to. Her unstable nature had forced her home only a month after departing and it had taken months to convince Danny to let her go off alone again. Her destabilization had been easy to explain, as a clone she had been created without a ghost core and with continual use of her powers and no way to replenish her energy she had used her own body's ectoplasm to feed her powers. Frostbite was unsure if she would ever form her own core as her creation was unique but Danny had pushed. The idea Danny had come up with was to take a piece of his own core and give it to Dani, maybe jump-starting her own core cultivation in the process.

After defeating pariah dark Danny had begun absorbing his core, a way of proving his claim to the throne Frostbite had explained, and with it his own core had almost doubled in power. While unstable itself as it was still settling into its new power, it was possible to take a sliver and still keep the core at a healthy level. If Danny pushed for a bigger piece than strictly necessary, well no one but Frostbite would ever know that.

The council had rioted at another ghost having a piece of the king's core, it was usual for families to share cores in times of need but a king having a royal family was unheard of. Some of the council was against it all together and some were quick to try and coronate Dani a princess. Danny did his best to shield her from the council and made her promise to visit at least once every few months and call weekly. It had been a battle but Dani had accepted conditions as well as a phone Tucker had made for her. Then she was off, traveling the world and bringing back souvenirs and stories. 

A couple years had passed like that and they had finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. A rhythm rudely interrupted by Danny’s looming birthday and his parents lack of self control. He was supposed to be at Sam’s house, ready to hug Dani when she arrived and with a whole day of movie marathons and nachos planned. Instead he was stuck pacing his entrance hall as Sam kept him updated on the happenings in the living realm. 

“Your majesty,” Frostbite rumbled, “perhaps it is time you enter the council’s chamber. An intermission can only last so long.”

The monarch hummed but didnt stop pacing. Every turn caused his layered cape to billow behind him in a strange way, as if it was floating underwater rather than being manipulated by wind. The king's crown had dulled from a fiery bonfire into a thin misty glow that wrapped in a circle over his head. Jazz would tease him for it, ‘It looks like the aurora borealis, your love of the sky bleeds into everything doesn't it?’ and she was right, though he would never admit it. Even as he combed his hand through his hair and the crown, the misty fire dissipating around his hand before gathering again, it still twinkled as if far away stars were shining in the crowns light. 

Danny spared little thought to his regalia as he paced. A wave of dread had come over him midway through the arguing and he had called a pause so they could recollect themselves. He had tried to check in with Sam but she wasn't responding. He had heard nothing from Dani either and something deep within him was screaming something was wrong. He couldn't abandon a council meeting on a hunch and honestly it was one of the few times he didn't want to have to abandon the council meeting. If only because it would mean nothing was wrong.

Dani had had some close calls over the years and while she had really come into her powers she wasn't as strong as Danny and the one time she had been hit by Maddie Fenton still held fresh in Danny’s mind.

His phone buzzed.

Sam had replied.

Eco-Terrorist: We cant find Dani

It was the only message Danny needed before he was off. Ripping a hole in the dimension himself as he crossed back to his preferred plane. He barely noticed Frostbites thoughtful hum as he moved to bring the news of the king's departure to the council.

The precious seconds Danny took to arrive at Sam’s house were spent spiraling as to all the worst things that could have happened. The fear doubled as he stepped through Sam’s wall to find her holding Dani’s phone and pacing herself. Tucker sat at the desk scouring what looked like security cameras on his laptop as Danny popped back into view.

If Sam yelped it was only because she was too stressed to try and cover it up.

“We found her phone in Amity Park, she hadn't been responding and it had been almost an hour since she was supposed to show up.” Sam stressed, she was flexing her hands around the phone. 

“Since she usually messages us if she is going to be late we decided to check if everything was alright. When we saw she was in the park and hadnt move in a while. We left immediately.” Tucker added. He had a wobble to his voice and a shine to his eyes. Danny gritted his teeth. “All we found was this.” Sam said as she threw Dani’s phone on the bed as if it had personally been the thing to commit the crime and went back to pacing, flexing her hands in and out of fists.

“Do we have any security footage that might help?” Danny asked. 

“Ive been looking but the park doesnt have much cctv except around the perimeter or playground. Its been useless. All Ive seen is the Fenton-mobile.” Tucker paused, Danny could hear him swallow as the same thought passed through all their heads. “You… you dont think…” 

“Ill go check the lab.” Danny said before he vanished. Already making his way through town as Sam and Tucker raced to follow him. 

It didnt take long for Danny to make it to his house, the ghost shields were down but the Fenton-mobile was nowhere to be seen. It gave Danny little hope but he made his way down to the basement, transforming into his human form just in case. He made his way through his kitchen and down the stairs where he looked into the lab and into his worst fear.

Dani lay still on a metal table, restraints on her arms and legs and waist as a trickle of ectoplasm dripped from her left arm onto the floor. She wasnt even in her ghost form. He jumped the stairs and made it to her in two strides. 

“Dani? Can you hear me?” Her head was lolled to the side but her eyes were open, if only barely. She blinked and squirmed slightly, making a grumbling sound before going still again. She was alive, likely drugged, definitely bleeding out. Her arm had a gash in it and two tubes attached to needles lay on the floor beside her. The tubes were tangled and thrown about, as if someone had tripped on them and then let them be. Rage bubbled within Danny but he forced himself to focus. He would not let Dani bleed out because he was too busy seething at his parents. He grabbed whatever he could use as medical supplies and wrapped Dani’s arm before trying to break her restraint.

Electricity coursed through him and he cursed. Refusing to let panic take over he turned to his parents computer instead. There had to be something that could undo the restraints and regardless he had to wipe whatever information they had on Dani. What he found was a conversation log of Maddie Fenton and an Agent W discussing payment and proper handover specifications for a ‘perfect specimen’ Maddie had found. The money was staggering and Danny’s rage almost made him crush the mouse he was holding. 

At one point, Sam had offered up the idea of destroying the lab and joining Jazz at Gotham U where she had chosen to go for college. They had toyed with the idea, saying it was for the future or it was a last resort, but ultimately never gone through with it. It was a bad idea to drag a meta equivalent to Gotham and in all honesty, Danny wasnt comfortable leaving Amity. He hated leaving the town limits even if necessary, he couldnt imagine choosing to live somewhere else. But right now, staring at his bleary, injured, unstable sister, he decided he would have to. 

His rogues would be pissed and he didnt really have a solid plan but he refused to let this happen again. To anyone.

It was little hassle to find the unlock to the restraints and erase the computer completely. His parents didn't trust the cloud and the physical copies they had would be lost in the fire. Tucker had copies of everything anyway. Dani moved to sit up but really only managed to roll off the table. Danny caught and he shared some of his ectoplasm to try and help her heal. It wasnt much but she started to regain lucidity.

“Danny?” she whispered and Danny hummed in response. Their cores hummed at each other, the harmony encouraging her healing. A boom rattled the building, it was far away but it snapped Danny back to the present. They didnt have time to sit there, he didnt know when his parents would be back and he needed to leave. 

He laid Dani on the floor as he went around and dismantled as many things as he could, leaving the vulnerable pieces in the open. Finally he turned to take the ectoplasm filter that powered the entire house. When he ripped it off its mantle alarms started blaring and he turned and grabbed Dani, hauling her up into his arms as he ran up the stairs. He heard her giggle something about bumpy rides and he was out the door and barrelling towards his beat up car parked across the street. 

Jazz had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday. Apparently she had originally planned to buy it for herself for her move to Gotham but Sam had managed to convince her parents to buy Jazz a brand new car. Something about the public transportation system being dangerous and it being the first thing Sam had asked for that had been manageable. It was beat up and an old red but Danny loved the car and used it often. He worried he would have had to keep his parents away from it, in case they try and ghost proof it but they never even noticed it. He parked it across the street and they just assumed it was the neighbors. No one had lived in the houses around them for years.

He shoved Dani into the passenger side before hoping the hood and sliding into the drivers seat. He didnt know he could do that.

Shoving his key into the ignition the engine roared to life. He managed to get down the street before his house exploded. The shockwave sent the car forward and he managed to catch Dani’s head before it met the dash. His windows rattled but none of them broke, a small victory he thought. 

His mind flashed to all the things he had had in his room, his home. His memories, his souvenirs from Dani, all his space and nasa memorabilia, all his clothes and any pictures he thought were important. His family, his friends, his school, his only solid portal to the Infinite Realm. 

His emergency supplies.

“Fuck.” he whispered as he kept driving. Dani giggled and said something like ‘language’ but Danny was too busy swerving through traffic to hear her. His phone buzzed and he jolted, he maneuvered to pull it from his pocket as he tried to check it only to barely miss an oncoming car and drop it into the footwell of Dani’s seat. He cursed again and kept driving. He wasnt going to stop until he was well and out of Amity. He focused on driving and harmonizing with Dani as he drove. 

As they raced across Amity his core began to pulse with panic. The lingering pain from losing his home exploding into waves of fear.

He wasnt stopping. The pulsing grew more intense and Dani whimpered in her sleep. He tried to calm down but something felt so intrinsically wrong with leaving and his core felt like it was going to burst.

The pressure grew as they got closer and closer to Amity’s border and as they crossed it something in Danny popped. 

He almost blacked out from the pain. The car swerving as he tried to regain control of himself. Something had broken and it felt like he was tilted on an axis. He could barely see and was forced to pull over. His breathes came in short painful gasps and he bit back a scream. He was trying to ride through the pain when his phone rang. Grasping for it he picked up and brought it to his ear.

“Danny? We saw the explosion, are you ok? Did you find Dani?” Sam said, crackling over the phone.

“Mhm. Dani is with me. We are going to Gotham.” Pain cracked his voice as he struggled to breathe. “ ‘s not safe. Need Jazz.” Was all he could manage before he was heaving.

“Danny! Stay where you are. We have ectoshots with us and we can-” Sam was cut off by an explosion behind Danny’s car. He whipped around to see a white van crashing through traffic. Danny slammed his foot on the gas and turned back to the road. The pain in his chest dulled as his desperation to protect Dani slammed back in full force. 

“Meet. In. Gotham.” Was all he could growl before he hung up the phone and drove in what he hoped was the direction north east. 

~~

currently obsessing over dpxdc shenanigans

I just love seeing danny act like a cornered animal

[vampsywrites]

I — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun & Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped

Word Count: 2.4k | AO3 LINK

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

"With the return of the sky people, our journey led us far, far up the horizon, where a towering mountain stood. Beyond the winding paths of its rocky terrain, nestled in the heart of nature's embrace, lay the village of the Iuva'ri clan—the ikran people of the mountains.

Iuva’ri was a beauty which both awed and intimidated those foreign to it. The village was tucked deep in a sheltered valley, bathed in the warm golden glow of the setting sun against the snow-capped peaks. A sanctuary hidden from the outside world. A perfect place for us to disappear without a trace.”

Flutters of the ikran's wings echoed loudly through the crisp air, alerting the people of their arrival. The once peaceful ambiance of the secluded village turned into a stir of commotion. Warriors sounded their horns, their urgent calls spreading like ripples through the village. The sight of the newcomers had ignited a sense of both curiosity and apprehension among the villagers, for rarely did travelers venture into their remote home.

As the crowd gathered at the center of the village, their gazes fixed on the newcomers, a mix of intrigue and wariness painted their expressions. Jake dismounted from his ikran gracefully, gesturing for his family to do the same. Neytiri's hand instinctively moved towards her bow, a hint of concern in her eyes. But before she could react, Jake rushed to stop her, his expression urging caution.

"Don't. Leave it," he murmured lowly, gently easing the weapon away from her grasp and tucking it back into the banshee's pouch. His mate sent him a disgruntled look in response but made no attempt to fight his decision.

"Alright. Come on," with a wave of his hand, Jake began to lead his family into the village, arms spread at his sides in an attempt to appear as docile as possible. "Let's be nice."

Neteyam followed in his father's footsteps, carefully observing his surroundings as he ascended the treacherous mountain slopes. His calculating eyes swept across the rugged terrain, taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of the snow-capped peaks and the vast expanse of the chalky landscape.

As they climbed higher, the air grew colder, and Neteyam shivered from the biting chill that enveloped them. The icy wind gnawed at his bones, and he pulled his shawl closer around him, seeking any respite from the relentless cold. This mountain was a stark contrast to the warm and humid forest he was accustomed to, and he felt the tingling sensation of numbness spreading across his exposed fingers.

As he navigated through unforgiving terrain, he found himself yearning for the comfort of home, longing for the lush green forest that offered a familiar warmth. Despite his reservations about this desolate place, he remained silent, his lips drawn into a tight line as he focused on the task at hand.

His attention was momentarily drawn away when a low whistle lanced through the air. Tilting his head up, Neteyam's gaze followed the sound, and he watched as a banshee glided gracefully through the skies. 

With a thud, the beast landed before them, sending a thick cloud of dust into the air as its rider dismounted. The rider was a tall, elderly woman, her midnight black hair contrasting against her milk blue skin. Her frosty eyes scanned their features, taking in every detail with a sharp intensity. A thick coat of fur was draped over her shoulders, and a billowing cape trailed behind her as she sauntered towards them, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Olo’eykte Ìumayi,” Jake bowed his head low, fingers extending from his forehead in a gesture of welcome. “I see you.”

Neytiri too bowed her head, gaze drawn to the ground as she murmured out her greeting, “I see you, Ìumayi.”

The woman continued to remain silent, circling them like vultures. Neteyam stood firm in his spot, his eyes never leaving the chief’s stalking figure.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence, her voice dripping with a leering caution, "Why do you come to us, Toruk Makto?"

Neteyam observed his father's reaction to the title, noting how he tensed up and his face contorted into an unsightly grimace. Given that the Iuva'ri clan's culture revolved around their sacred bond with Ikrans, it came as no surprise why his title held such immense significance to them.

In contrast to her husband's visible unease, Neytiri stood tall, her demeanor unyielding as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"We seek uturu," she declared.

In response to Neytiri's words, Ìumayi whipped around violently, her expression hardening as she directed a stern glower towards them. "Uturu?" she questioned sharply.

“Yes,” Jake affirmed. “Sanctuary. For my family.”

The people around them erupted into a hushed, agitated chatter, but the chief was quick to silence them all with a snap of her fingers.

“We have heard tales of your times at war, of your blood from the sky people, and of the victories that have earned you praise among many Na'vi," Ìumayi spoke with a measured tone, her voice heavy. "But my people are not at war. I apologize, but I cannot allow you to bring your bloodshed here."

Jake's response was immediate, a mix of desperation and determination evident in his voice as he hurriedly spoke, "I'm done with war," he asserted, lowering himself to scoop up Tuktirey into his arms. The little girl sought refuge in the safety of his embrace, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "I just want to keep my family safe."

Observing the tender scene, Ìumayi's stern exterior softened slightly, her warm eyes studying the family before her. Bowing her head in contemplation, she took a moment to weigh the consequences of her decision, fully aware of the significance of this encounter. With a heavy sigh, she finally lifted her head and made her verdict, "I will allow it."

The relief that washed over Jake was palpable, but before he could express his gratitude, Ìumayi raised a bony finger, signifying there was more to be said.

"I will allow it. On one condition," she continued, her gaze now turning towards Neteyam, holding him with an inquisitive gaze. "I understand you are the eldest, correct?"

Neteyam acknowledged the chief's attention with a nod, his heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

With a wave of her pale hand, Ìumayi turned to the crowd before her, calling out a name as she gestured for someone to come over. The crowd parted instinctively, revealing your figure. As you stepped closer and closer, Neteyam found his mouth growing dry once he fully took in your features.

Inky jets of midnight-black hair cascaded over your shoulders like a shimmering waterfall, adorned with an enchanting array of bioluminescent gems woven into each braid. Your skin, a mesmerizing hue of cool blue, appeared as though it were delicately bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Jagged, milk-white stripes adorned your limbs and face in an intricate pattern, reminiscent of a celestial canvas. It was as if the very hand of Eywa herself had delicately painted them onto you.

“This is my eldest daughter, Y/N," Ìumayi spoke with pride, gently guiding you to stand by her side, a strong, protective arm enveloping your shoulders. "With the recent passing of my beloved mate, she has stepped forward, assuming the role of Tsahìk."

You took a moment to study their curious expressions, your eyes reflecting an understanding for their situation, “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

Neteyam stood in awe, watching as you gracefully acknowledged and greeted his family members. The solemnity of your father's absence was palpable, but your calm welcome brought a glimmer of warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere. And as you turned to face him, the warrior felt his heart leap to his throat.

“Neteyam,” you called out, his name dripping off your lips like a sweet, thick syrup. The Omatikayan watched intently as you curled your fingers, tracing your hand up from your chest up to your forehead before extending it out towards him, icy gaze piercing through his very being, “I see you.”

Fuck.

Neteyam feels his mouth go slack, skin breaking out into a cold sweat as a rich, deep warmth spreads through him. It was a simple greeting, no more. You were merely welcoming them into your village—Trying to be courteous. And yet, why is it that the way you were looking at him left a searing burn in his chest? Twisting at his heart and sending his pulse into a rapid thrum until he could barely breathe?

Both Lo’ak and Kiri observed his reaction with amused grins. To knock him out of his trance, Kiri roughly shoved at Neteyam’s side, gesturing towards your awaiting figure. Almost immediately, he grounds himself, cheeks burning into a dark indigo.

"Tsahìk Y/N," he uttered shakily, his fingers clumsily returning the respectful gesture. His heart pounded blaringly in his chest as he gazed at you, trying to steady himself in your presence. "I see you."

Your smile, gentle like a soft breeze, acknowledged his greeting before you turned your attention back to your mother.

"I have reason to believe that this meeting with Toruk Makto's family is fated," your mother spoke out, "Many nights ago, before his death, my mate was blessed with a vision from Eywa herself. In the sacred embrace of dreams, the spirits revealed to him a profound prophecy of two clans uniting as one—a woman and a man forging an unbreakable bond."

The words of their chief hung in the air, and a hushed silence fell over the gathering as the significance of her statement registered with everyone present.

"As you all know," she continued, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, "I am not getting any younger, and my time draws nearer to its end. And I remind you all that the weight of this responsibility was not one I bore alone; a Tsahìk needs an Olo’eyktan by their side."

A moment passed as the implications of her words settled into Neteyam's mind, and then realization dawned on him.

"This vision bestowed upon my mate," she began, "is not to be taken lightly. It is a direct call from Eywa herself, and as I stand before you today, I believe that the very individuals foreseen in that vision are here before us."

Ìumayi's gaze locked onto Neteyam, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul. "With Eywa's guidance," she continued, "I propose a union between my daughter and Toruk Makto's eldest son."

The people around them erupted into chaos, their voices rising in a cacophony of opinions. Some had cried out in agreement while some were outraged at the idea of an outsider leading the clan. And as the concerns of his parents too filled the air; Neteyam felt a tumult of emotions within him. He knew their apprehensions were driven by love and care, yet there was an unexplainable energy surging through his veins, compelling him to step forward, to embrace the path laid out before him.

Before he could fully process the weight of his decision, his lips moved with a life of their own, the words escaping him faster than he could think, "I accept."

The crowd falls deathly silent at his declaration.

As the weight of his own words settled in, a storm consumed Neteyam. Accepting this union had been an unforeseen choice, one he had never anticipated making. It led him down a path he had never imagined walking, and uncertainty clawed at the very core of his being. 

And yet, as he turned to look at you, he found these worries falling silent. The sight of you ignited a surge of emotions within him, an overwhelming rush that defied comprehension. It was as though an irresistible, magnetic force was drawing him closer to you, as if every beat of his heart called for your name.

The warrior heaved a sigh, lowering his gaze to the ground and bowing his head as a gesture of respect to your mother.

“I am willing to accept this union," Neteyam affirmed, his eyes flickering back to meet yours, "Only if she will have me.”

Lo’ak's lips twitched, a hint of a grin threatening to break free, but he bit down on his lips, holding back the laugh that threatened to escape. His gaze met Kiri's, and they exchanged a knowing look, both equally amused and astonished by their older brother's unexpected behavior. Neteyam had always been the pillar of stability and composure in their family, making his impulsive acceptance of the proposal all the more surprising.

Lo’ak turned to glance at their parents, noticing his mother's eyes which were wide with concern. It was evident that she wanted to say something, but their father subtly pulled her back, silently urging her to hold her words for the moment.

Neytiri took a moment to study Neteyam's face, the resolve and determination etched across his features. Their gazes locked, and she saw a depth of conviction in her son's eyes that she hadn't witnessed before—a fierce certainty that he had made the right choice, even if it was sudden.

In that moment of silent understanding, Neytiri nodded her head, her concerns momentarily quelled. "If that is what he wishes," she said, her voice softening with acceptance, "we will support him."

Ìumayi’s smile grew slightly wider, her eyes shimmering with approval as she turned her attention to you. "Good. Now, ma’ite, what say you?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet expectant.

The world around you seemed to blur for a moment as you locked eyes with Neteyam, the unspoken bond between you both intensifying.

From the days of your childhood, you had already accepted the prospect of a planned marriage, or at best, one founded on companionship. To you, as long as your partner proved amiable and undemanding, it would be enough. And yet, you could not have even begun to imagine that you would end up in a marriage with Toruk Makto's son.

In the face of the unexpected proposal, you responded with a firm nod, your voice steady with conviction, "If Eywa wills it, then I shall accept as well."

The sight of Neteyam's smile and the exuberant whip of his tail around his feet brought a surge of unforeseen warmth to your heart. The moment felt surreal, like a dance with destiny that had been set into motion long before this day. Perhaps, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Your mother nodded, her expression reflecting satisfaction and pride.

"Then it is settled," she declared firmly, "Toruk Makto and his family shall stay with us, and his son shall be promised to my daughter. We'll teach them our ways and treat them as our own."

“May Eywa bless their path."

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

[funkyplantguy]

grian gets saved by hotguy and then pines over him <3

so this "au" (if you can even call it that when it exists exclusively in my brain and now in this ask) is mostly crack and comes from me joking around a couple days ago with some friends so...don't take it too seriously. that being said...

-

you have (3) new comments! view now?

click.

areeongreenday: hey! so this is insane.

click.

h0tguysnumber0n3fan: i guess i kind of understand where you're coming from with this - scar goodman and hotguy do share a similar sense of humor, and i sort of see what you're saying at 47:03 when you compared their voices (more specifically, the inflection they use on specific words) but...i guess i'm having a hard time imagining scar as a superhero. don't get me wrong - he's plenty cool, but...didn't he say that he's a full-time content creator now? i don't know that he'd really have the time to record, edit, and post videos on top of saving the city on a near-daily basis. interesting theory, though! admire the dedication.

click.

scargoodman: ;)

and there it was, taunting him - that damn winky face, yet again, commented nearly instantaneously each time grian uploaded a new video about the man itself. scar goodman - known to many as the man who had risen to sudden fame in the video essayist community with his charming good looks and boisterous personality. scar goodman, whom grian suspected was secretly none other than the city's beloved superhero. after all, they'd both made their debuts within a week of each other and shared not only a similar path of success but a similar sense of humor, a similar speaking style, a similar body type, a similar laugh...sure, there were things that didn't quite line up, but...for the most part, they appeared to be the exact same person.

okay - maybe grian was a little obsessed. but what was he supposed to do, not point out the obvious?

what made matters worse was that nobody seemed to believe him. no matter how many videos he posted, no matter how much proof he gave...nobody was willing to hear him out.

nobody except scar goodman himself, who seemed intent to drive him absolutely insane.

grian grumbled something to himself, pocketing his phone and continuing down the long, narrow sidewalk to his apartment complex. he'd lost track of time at work yet again, and as a result, the sun had long set. this wasn't unusual for him - he often opted to remain late in the office to "finish up a few things" (ie take advantage of the functional wifi his workplace offered instead of trying to upload videos on his crummy home network), so he was...fairly comfortable tracing the path back to his apartment in the dark of night. the street lights in this part of town didn't work exceptionally well, but with the familiarity of it all and the dull light of the moon, grian typically fared well enough.

tonight, however...well, call him paranoid, but...something felt...off. something about the way all the buildings around him were dark, indicating that their inhabitants were either asleep or out (and entirely unreachable if grian were to call for help). something about the absence of the various stray cats that he often crossed paths with. something about how the complete and utter silence made his ears ring.

"aw, what's this? a cute guy? well, pretty boy, you've just entered the wrong part of town at the wrong time. unfortunately, loose lips sink ships, or...uh...however the saying goes, so...sorry, i can't let you leave this visit alive."

before grian could even register the words being spoken (where were they even coming from?? above him? below him? behind him? everywhere, all at once?), he felt hands gripping the back of his shirt. in another moment, he was on the ground, his breath clawing its way out of his chest. above him stood a figure, shrouded in darkness and the billowing, starry cape draped across their shoulders. in their hands was something glinting, something sharp, something deadly -- something that grian's frazzled, spinning mind was unable to put a name to. or maybe it refused to - refused to name the tool that would be his doom. maybe it was better that way, he mused idly, as the figure raised it high above their head. maybe it was best to not know.

"hey! there you are - what did i say about running off?"

and just as quickly as he'd accepted his death, the threat of it was gone, vanquished by the appearance of the tall, costumed man on the rooftop adjacent. grian felt his breath return to his chest in one fell swoop, filling his lungs and sending a wave of sensitivity to his throat. he coughed, hard, tears welling helplessly in his eyes, and the newcomer's attention snapped to him in an instant.

"oh - and you've made a friend! how nice. unfortunately, there are no plus ones in prison."

"hotguy," grian's would-be murderer snarled. "i thought i'd lost you."

"nah. i may have gotten lost, sure. but you didn't lose me. there's a difference."

"you'll wish that i'd lost you when i'm through with you."

"oh, that was lame!" the man cried, hopping over the low rooftop wall and landing neatly on the ground below (how he did it, even grian wasn't sure. by all intents and purposes, his legs shouldn't have that level of shock absorption, even if he had been fed some chemical cocktail by a mad scientist at a young age as he boasted). "listen - we've got to get you a better catchphrase."

hotguy strode forward, his eyes glinting behind his tinted visor. he glanced to grian out of the corner of his eye, then back to the villain - then back to grian again, his mouth going slack in surprise. grian met his gaze - took in his appearance - and let out a bark of laughter, one not missed by either scar goodman or the cloaked figure in front of him. scar returned his laughter, throwing his head back and planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"well, what a coincidence," he giggled, after a moment. "my new catchphrase just so happens to be "subscribe to my youtube channel."

"what?" their third demanded, glancing between the two. "what are you talking about?"

"oh my god. there's no way. there's no way. how - how am i the only one who knows? how am i the only one who suspects?? it's obvious - it's so obvious."

"what's obvious?"

"i know, right? i make it as obvious as possible, and still...still, nobody puts two and two together. well...nobody except for you, apparently. i guess that you're just...special."

"why don't you just come out and say it?" grian mused, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the sputtering from their newly acquired third wheel. "i feel like if you said it - either as scar goodman or hotguy - people would have to believe it, no?"

a strange look came over hotguy's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"ah...i don't think that would change anything. plus, i have this thing with this cute guy where he tries to tell everyone my identity and i egg him on to get him to make more silly videos. i would hate to give that up."

he winked, and grian felt warmth climb his cheeks. gone was the fear, gone was the panic, gone was the darkness and the creeping, crawling sense of unease - instead, there was only curiosity, burning brightly in his chest. he wanted to talk to scar - hotguy - for hours, wanted to pull the object of his obsession apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together again, just to see what would happen. he wanted to get to know who hotguy was underneath the suit - and who scar goodman was with the suit. he'd wanted (he'd wanted for so long) and it felt like maybe...just maybe...he'd get to have.

"hey! what the hell is going on?"

"oh, right," hotguy chuckled, turning his attention to the third member of their party. "sorry - didn't mean to ignore you. here - sit tight, for real this time. the police will be here soon."

"dude, i'm just going to leave again. do you really not have handcuffs or something?"

"who needs handcuffs when you have a cub to design fancy gadgets for you?"

"a...a what?" the figure asked, then yelped, startled, as something exploded out of the cuff on hotguy's wrist. a net, affixing itself neatly to their body, wrapping them up in a cocoon of their own folly. grian stared at it, humming in approval.

"nice."

"thank you! it's new."

"i know."

"i bet you do," scar responded, and grian flushed further at the teasing edge his tone took on. "i bet you know almost everything about me, at this point. obsessed, much?"

"i could say the same," grian huffed back, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off his jeans (there was a rip in one leg, now, he noticed with a frown). "you recognized me, like, immediately. it's pretty dark out, too - sounds like you're the one obsessed."

"what can i say - you're pretty and smart. i happen to like my men pretty and smart."

grian sputtered incoherently in response, all confidence gone out the window. oh god - he was even more charismatic in person, even in costume. and god, was the costume more attractive in person, as well - baggy cargo pants and a tight, fitted top that exposed his tanned midriff. not the most tactical, sure - but damn was it hot.

"you can't say that," he moaned, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands. "oh my god. i hate you. i've known you for five minutes and i already hate you."

"sure you do," scar responded, grinning. "i - oh, hold on."

he raised his hand and tapped the earpiece affixed to the side of his head, concentrating. after a moment, he sighed - and for just a second, grian thought that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. as quickly as they sagged, however, scar was straightening, turning back to grian with an easy smile.

"sorry, handsome, duty calls. are you alright to get back home on your own? i doubt this guy will be giving you any more trouble. those nets are pretty sturdy."

"wait!" grian sputtered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest (no, no, he couldn't let scar slip through his fingers, not now, not when he was finally so close). "don't go - i...can i see you again?"

scar's smile wobbled around the edges, and any panic grian felt was replaced with guilty - heavy and suffocating (though he wasn't sure why)

"ah...isn't it more fun, this way? don't you like the chase? isn't that exhilaration enough for your pretty little head?"

"i mean...it's a fun hobby, yeah, but -,"

"then we'll stick to the status quo. after all, i'd hate to rob you of your favorite hobby. goodnight, grian. can't wait for your next video."

and with a wink, he was gone, disappearing back into the shadows so quickly grian could have sworn he was made of them. and grian...well. he had an apartment to get home to, a cat to feed...and a chase to continue. and maybe, someday, if he was fast enough...he'd catch up.

[amostimprobabledream]

Subterranean Affairs (Homelander x Reader)

I love how seeing Homelander in normal clothes sent everyone completely unhinged lol. Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57191485 Applause rained down like thunder, spotlights and the dozens upon dozens of cameras flashing brightly. Almost as brightly as the sharp-toothed, megawatt smile on the Homelander's face.

"We cannot overstate enough the heroic efforts of the Seven in their latest daring rescue!" a reporter was saying into her microphone, a safe distance from the disaster zone, the victims being escorted off the bus and bundled up into shock blankets in the background, but the camera focused on the heroes standing front and center. "All hostages are safe and accounted for, and we're told repairs for the damage of the bridge will be minimal, so hopefully it should open within a few short weeks!"

A few cheers erupted, whistles and people clamouring, stamping their feet. Homelander, A-Train and the Deep were lapping up the attention, the latter smiling and waving. Behind them, Queen Maeve stood with her usual disinterested, sulky expression and Black Noir was, unsurprisingly, silent. Starlight looked like their little sister who had unwittingly tagged along, her costume spotlessly white, not a hint of grime or debris touching her. The reporter approached The Seven, making a beeline for their leader.

"Homelander, reports state that this terrible event was the handiwork of the self-professed vigilante, the Raven. Is this true?"

Homelander’s eyes found the camera immediately.

"That's right, Carol - a video of the hostages was sent to us at Vought, as well as the companies the Raven was demanding the ransom from. We knew we had to act and do it fast. Innocent lives were at stake!”

"Of course, no doubt your fast thinking saved so many lives!" Carol gushed.

"Yeah, uh, nobody's getting blown up today, guys!" The Deep put in helpfully, giving a thumbs-up and a wink to the camera, which perhaps wasn't quite the right tone to be striking, but nobody thought to say that over the shrieking of the crowd.

Starlight pursed her lips, squinting against the glare of the flashing cameras. She still wasn't used to being stared down by so many of them at once.

"Vought has also pledged one million dollars towards the reconstruction of the bridge!" A-Train said, gesturing behind him with an expansive sweep of his arm. "Can't stop people from just trying to live their lives! That's not how we do it in America!"

"And what about the Raven? Are you guys any closer to catching this guy?" another reporter spoke up.

Homelander gave a languorous blink and a small silence settled – even the clicks of the cameras seemed muted.

“Arrests have been made of suspects in this terrible attack. Remember that this…criminal has evaded the very best law enforcement in the whole country. This isn’t just a normal lawbreaker, folks. This…is a villain.”

The word rippled, spreading on impact, and gasps surged forth from the gathered crowd, and Homelander raised a finger, wagging it as he paced back and forth, cape billowing importantly behind him.

“But know this! It doesn’t matter what threats he makes, or who he tries to use against us. I- we, The Seven, will always stand against criminals like him, and always fight back! America will stand strong!”

Applause exploded forth, cheering and screaming the names of The Seven, and the camera went wild, flashing like little explosions. Homelander’s smile widened beneath the endless clicking of shutters, basking in the worshipful gratitude of the adoring public, their need for him to save them washing over him in a wave.

“Stand strong! Stand strong! Stand strong!”

You fuckin’ cocksuckers.

~

Your room was lit up by a multitude of screens, your eyes flicking from each of them, missing nothing.

Images of all different news stations made a cacophony of murmuring voices in the living room, though you keep the volume low so you could listen to the music drifting through your laptop speakers. In your hand you held a milkshake, sucking on the straw and enjoying the creamy, tasteful thickness of it. You’d never been much of a milkshake fan before, but in the past couple of months you’d been…converted.

A knock sounds at the door, one you’d been waiting for all evening, and your heart jumps in your chest.

“Come in,” you call, setting down your drink and swivelling in your chair so you faced the door.

You’d left it unlocked because you didn’t want it broken again, and the door swung open silently to reveal a man standing there in plain clothing, baseball cap jammed low over his face. Even though he looked smaller without his usual suit, more slender, the look in his eyes stayed the same. He leans his head back to stare at you imperiously, his gaze commanding attention.

Homelander cocks his head.

“You’re still working?” he asks as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. It seems odd not to see a cape trailing behind Homelander, like a bird without its plumage.

“Crime never sleeps.” You reply in a deadpan, before smiling. “That was quite the motivational speech back there. ‘America will stay strong’, jesus – how long have you been dying to use that tagline?”

“Not every day I get to face my nemesis on national TV, right?” he replies in a drawl, stepping closer until he’s standing between your parted legs. “A bus full of kids? Seriously?”

You roll your eyes at his tone.

“People get so sentimental when children are involved.” You say mockingly, smirking. “It makes them pay attention.”

Homelander’s lip curls at your cavalier reply, amused, his eyes going half-lidded as he looks down at you, his hands settling on your thighs.

“And what if I didn’t get to that bus on time, hmm? We’d’ve looked like a bunch of fuckin’ amateurs.” He says, in a mock-scolding voice.

“No, you’d look like martyrs.” You correct him, watching his hands slide further up your legs. “People would have felt so sorry for you and how terrible you must feel. And I’d look like an even bigger threat, everyone feels just a little more unsafe in a world where little Billy or little Sally can go kaboom just like that, and everyone turns to you, desperate for you to swoop in and save them and knowing there’s a chance that even you might not be able to. That this time, they could get very unlucky. You get to swear great justice and vengeance and I get to make the corporations look like the sociopathic conglomerates they are for not paying the ransom, and next time I can demand even more money because they know the Raven doesn’t bluff. Everybody wins.”

“But we did save them,” he points out, tongue perched on the very edge of his bottom teeth, almost sticking it out but not quite, as he leers down at you with his eyelids lowered. “Everyone loves me even more now. What do you get outta this?”

“I still got some of the money, remember? The companies weren’t willing for me to expose them on national television if it meant coughing up a little. And more importantly, notoriety. The next one, when I win, will make everyone more afraid. More desperate to pay for safety. Fear is very profitable, you know.”

“And how d’you know you’ll get your way next time, hmm?” he says with a smirk, a hint of a purr entering his voice.

“Because that’s how it works. You don’t want your nemesis to be a total fucking loser, right?” you remind him in a singsong. “The bigger of a threat I am, the more people love you when you foil my dastardly deeds. Ergo, next time, you let me win.”

You rise to your feet and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, punctuating it with a little teasing lick, and he chuffs like a big cat.

“I should be punishing you, you know…” he croons, hiking you up like you weigh nothing – to him, you don’t – and plonking your ass down on the desk, nearly sitting on a keyboard so you’re at a more accessible height for him to play with you. “Hmm? Drag you down to the police station or to Vought Tower and let them deal with you. Or maybe I should get a little rough…”

He's kissing your neck as he says this, his words colliding together in eagerness, breath hot on your skin. One hand was clamped at your thigh, kneading the flesh beneath his bare palm. You hiss and arch your back as his teeth clamps on the skin of your neck, putting those fangs of his to good use.

“Should teach a bad girl like you a lesson.” He murmurs in a low voice, dripping with promise, right in your ear. “Maybe I should put you over my knee and spank you, hm? Make that pretty ass raw until you say you’re sorry…”

Something in you clenched at the very suggestion, heat crawling over your body. His hand snakes up your dress, brushing against the flimsy material of your panties, which are already slightly damp from anticipation of his arrival. Homelander traces the outline of your cunt through the fabric, a lazy smile spreading slow and smooth as honey across his face.

“Or, I could fuck you how you like it, nice and deep, and just when you’re about to come, I’ll tie you up and leave you here. All fuckin’ desperate to finish yourself off…”

He's not bluffing, and you know it. The thought of how easily he can overpower you is one hell of an aphrodisiac – his plain clothes may hide who he is, but you know what strength lies beneath his little disguise, and knowing there’s someone who isn’t scared of you, the Raven and all your clever machinations, is thrilling.

“Mm, fuck…” you mutter, reaching up and batting his silly baseball cap off, tousling his hair between your fingers and taking pleasure out of rumpling it from its slicked-back state. “You wanna play the hero, huh? Vanquish the evil villain?”

Homelander growls, tugging your panties down like they've personally offended him. His hand skims up your thighs, and you twitch as his finger tease at your crotch.

“You’re pushing your luck, missy.” He mutters darkly.

"Mmph...but I'm so good for you." You remind him, panting as he brushes your clit, massaging it with an infuriatingly feather-light touch, refusing to give you the friction you want.

"You'd - hmm- be so bored without me..."

Homelander hums in acknowledgement. You’re his dirty little secret, one he holds close to his chest. He’s the only one who knows who you really are – everyone else thinks the Raven is a man, all thanks to a simple voice-changing modulator and never showing yourself on camera – the few times you’ve had to address anyone directly, you go Black Noir and wear a mask. When Homelander tracked you down after you’d taunted Vought one too many times for his liking, he was surprised to find a young woman masterminding the attacks, and even more surprised that you had a proposal.

“I can boost your precious ratings better than anyone can. You’re bored, aren’t you? Catching me has been one of the most thrilling things to happen to you in a long time. I’m right, aren’t I? Doesn’t every hero need a villain?”

You hadn’t been wrong.

So, fast forward to the present, whenever you set up one of your plans, usually involving extorting a ludicrous amount of money from people who need a lot of nudging to give it up, you make sure to give Homelander a head’s up. You don’t always tell him every single detail, you insist that it’s better if some of it is a surprise, so his reactions are authentic, so he can still experience the thrill of the chase, but he knows enough. He gets to swoop in as the world’s strongest man and save the day, and you get to antagonise some very dangerous people and walk away without a scratch on you. Homelander finds ways of giving you funds, should it be his turn to thwart your plans and you have requirements to be met. All secretly taken from Vought’s coffers, of course.

The best part is that Vought have no idea who the Raven is. No-one, not one of the Seven, or Ashley, or Stan Edgar or the shareholders, knows what your next move will be.

In exchange for this, you have intel on who in Vought is working on tracking you down, (apparently there’s a whole department dedicated to you now, which you find hilarious) and Homelander can easily get info on the police too if need be and your schemes get national – sometimes international, attention. In a way, you’ve become a bit of a celebrity, yourself. And you have your own personal hitman on speed dial. If you need something or someone out of your way, Homelander’s number is on your burner phone, and he has no issue with taking out the trash every now and then. And if he can’t do it himself for whatever reason, he can always point a finger and send Black Noir like his own personal phantom. The masked Supe never asks questions.

Perhaps, then, the other arrangements were simply inevitable. A natural occurrence, if you will. Having such dangerous, intimate knowledge of one another is a surprising shortcut to sexual attraction, of knowing the other person in a way nobody else does. And you’d be a dirty little liar if you said you weren’t curious about what fucking America’s golden boy would be like.

You’re firm about these little trysts, though. You haven’t gotten away with your shit for so long for nothing, and there’s a reason it took a man with flight and super senses to finally catch you. If anybody saw The Homelander flying to where you live, seemingly for no apparent reason and roughly around the time either The Raven makes an appearance on TV or after “his” schemes are thwarted…well, then there might be questions, and you’re not willing to risk it.

Hence, the civvies. Plus, there’s something hot about an incognito Homelander, without the mantle of being the face of the Seven and symbol of America weighing him down. It’s illicit, forbidden, the man behind the curtain.

“You think I need you?” he sneers, pulling back to show his pointed fangs, but his affected disdain is unconvincing when he has his fingers buried deep in your pulsing cunt, and you can feel every ridge of his knuckles, his breath excited hot puffs on your neck.

“We’re good for each other,” you reply hoarsely, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, leaning up to bite his bottom lip and he growls in approval – he likes a little rough play. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t feel good…knowing something nobody else does…being the one in control the whole time and nobody is any the wiser?”

You know you’ve hit the nail on the head as he plunges his fingers as deep as they can go inside you and you throw your head back, keening out loud. The truth is that nothing beats that rush, setting off these earthquakes and watching everyone else scramble to gain their footing, people falling as predictably as dominos. Having the man who swoops in to save the day visit you in the cover of nightfall for a quick fuck afterwards is just the cherry on top of it all, and you know he’s riding some of the aftershocks of his own, knowing he has everyone eating out of the palm of his gloved hands.

“Oh, fuck…” you hiss as he curves his fingers inside you in a come-hither motion, sending shivering jolts through your body, and your body automatically tilts your hips forward for more friction, more motion, without you having to even think of it. “Homelander…like that…”

“Yeah? This what you want?” he asks, half amused and half horny, doing the motion again and watching as your eyes get a glazed look about them, the usual sharp, wary gleam giving way to a fog of pleasure. “Greedy little brat.”

He doesn’t stop, though – he loves the look on your face as you lose yourself to it, swallowed up in sheer, undiluted lust. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers, making him slide them in and out, teasingly.

With his free hand, Homelander rips open the front of your dress as if it were made of wrapping paper and you make an indignant noise – perhaps a little dramatic given it’s not like you don’t have the cash to buy fifty dresses if you want, but your annoyance dies a quick death when his free hand palms one of your breasts.

“Mm…you wore your slutty lingerie for me, huh?” he says, a grin like a highschooler looking at his first Playboy curving his mouth as he traces over the lace detailing that skims the cups of your bra. “Very nice.”

“And it wasn’t cheap,” you can’t resist saying, tilting your head back like you’re a duchess being showered in trinkets. “All bought and paid for with Vought’s dirty money.”

Homelander laughs at that, delighted, lowering his head to drag his tongue over the sensitive skin and you shiver, his mouth is hot in the cool of your room, and you wrap your legs around his hips. He’s hard, you can see the outline of his dick through his jeans, but you let the moment stretch between you, like pulling bubblegum between the teeth.

He's impatient, snapping the front clasp (he notes you chose an easy access bra with approval), watching the pretty material slide off you to expose your tits to him, and he latches on with just as much greed as he accused you of having.

“I can hear your little heartbeat, you know,” he remarks conversationally, glancing up at you from beneath unfairly lush eyelashes on a man. “Going like a fuckin’ jackrabbit’s. It’s cute how you act like you’re this cold, calculating bitch, but really…you’re just desperate to be fucked.”

You look down at him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, lust at how he’s playing with you and irritation that he’s calling you out at war with each other, and you can’t quite resist running your mouth.

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should hurry up and fuck me, then.” You throw the words down like a gauntlet.

His blue eyes snap to yours and for a split second, you think his pupils go from black to a sizzling red. It’s gone when you blink and Homelander’s hands wrap around your hips and he hoists you up, holding you, a full-grown adult, up off the ground like a ragdoll. With one hand – the one is busy freeing his cock from the confinements of his jeans, hissing under his breath. Relief skims over him when he pulls it out of his briefs, hot and throbbing in his hand.

“You asked for it, you fuckin’ brat.” He snarls.

You did, no denying that. You let out a groan when he sinks into you, letting you impale yourself on his cock, and he sighs, long and luxuriantly like he’s gotten into a hot bubblebath instead. Your hands tightly grip his shoulders and something about the fact you’re both mostly clothed really gets you going, the rushed, dirtiness of bouncing on his cock for a little while before he’s inevitably called away, before it’s time for him to go shine in the sunlight once again.

Homelander agrees with you - it's delicious, the heat of your snug, wet cunt engulfs him and he groans, nuzzling his face into your tits, which are conveniently right at face-level. You may have an excellent poker face, but your body is so responsive to even the slightest of touches, your nipples hard and flesh covered in goosebumps, either from the chill of the air conditioner or anticipation. Probably a potent mixture of both.

“Ah, fuck, yes…” you pant against him, clinging onto his jacket for dear life, nails embedding in the fabric. “Just like that…fuck me, ah…”

He doesn’t need telling twice – for someone who loathes being ordered around, Homelander is quick to take to instructions and he snarls as he picks up the pace, manhandling you with an ease that sends butterflies taking flight in your stomach. Your thighs clench, hooked around his waist as they are, the balls of your feet digging into his lower back, and you bury your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his fancy cologne and just a faint whiff of something metallic. His skin is so warm like he’s constantly running a fever and you press little kisses and bites to his neck – you may be a Supe but you’re not strong enough to break his skin, but he seems to appreciate the effort.

“You shoulda - ngh- fuckin’ seen Stan Edgar’s face – when you first showed the hostage video-“ Homelander says, gasping out the words as he fucked you, maneuvering your body up and down with a mere flex of his wrists – all you had to do was cling onto him for dear life. “Shit, I nearly flew right here to bend you over this desk just for that. Got everybody in Vought losing their fuckin’ minds…”

“Glad to know I’m living up to my reputation,” you say against his ear in a thick voice, like you’re trying to speak through a mouthful of treacle, mouth falling open in a silent cry as his cock thrust deeper into you, hitting somewhere deep inside that sent bolts of pleasure zipping up and down your body, and your thighs and cunt clenched around him in tandem. “Fuck-!”

“Yeah,” he growls back, purposefully upping the back to drive more of those needy gasps he loves so much from you, the sound of bodies smacking together loud and clear in his ears even when it’s muffled by your clothing. “Got everything under control, don’t you? Everyone dancing to your tune? All except me. I’m the only one who gets you, only one who knows…”

“Yes, yes, fuck…” you hiss – you’re going to come, you can feel it, if he just keeps going, just a little more…your nails are digging so hard into his shirt you’re sure you’re going to pierce it with them alone, but neither of you care, nothing matters except chasing that high. “Only you, only you, Homelander…”

It's exactly what you know he wants to hear, and he groans in a hoarse way that finishes you off – you can’t hold back the heady kick of exhilaration and pleasure, conjoined and making you throw back your head as you come, a moan rising up to the ceiling fan that’s still whirring away above you. Tingling, throbbing heat engulfed you as you came, slick coating your thighs and you’ve probably gotten some on his pants too. Homelander’s concerns were less on his dry-cleaning and on chasing his own orgasm, his teeth sinking into the spot that joined neck and shoulder, making you give a soft whine. Your thighs tremble with the effort of keeping them clamped around his hips.

“Atta girl…” he mutters against your neck, planting a sloppy kiss against it like a stamp of ownership. Your skin breaks out in fresh goosebumps where his lips touch you, his lips burning like a brand.

It takes you a moment to recover yourself, and Homelander sets you back down on the desk with all the care of placing down a priceless vase. You give a little sniff and wipe your face with the back of your wrist, pushing your hair back off your sweaty forehead.

Homelander, in a surprising moment of decorum, turns away to tuck himself back into his jeans, a smug little smile lingering on his lips, and you pull your bra back into place and fasten the clasp. There’s not much to be done about your ruined dress, but all you have to do is say the word and he’d buy you whatever you asked for as a replacement. Price tags aren’t a concept that high and mighty beings such as himself need concern himself with.

“Ugh. Got a press junket tomorrow morning.” He mutters, giving a bitchy eyeroll. “All this goddamn promoting the brand now roster’s changed. They want another Seven movie too.”

“Jesus, they really don’t believe in letting a franchise die, do they?” you scoff, grateful that you’ve never once been tempted into the glitz and glamour of being one of Vought’s Supes – the red tape and smiling would be unbearable. And all those selfies with fans. “They sure do keep you busy.”

He scoffs, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye, watching your lip curve in a smirk as he matches it with one of his own.

“Yeah, well.” He says, in a sarcastically breezy tone, a can-do Boy Scout voice. “Anything for our fans.”

You laugh and shake your head. Rather you than him.

“I’ll send a bomb scare to set and make everyone evacuate for a few days,” you say, fluffing your hair. “Give you a little me-time.”

He eyes you, like he’s trying to work out if you’re joking or not, but you simply give him an enigmatic smile – you know he likes the mystery, so you keep quiet on if you’re actually planning on following through. He shakes his head.

“I’ll see you next time then, my pretty little criminal.”

He leans over and tilts up your chin, one last kiss before he goes, and you give it to him, enjoying the feeling of his mouth pressed hungrily against yours. He pulls away with obvious reluctance, but you force yourself not to invite him to stay – you have to keep yourself somewhat professional, after all.

“Til then.” You reply, running your tongue across your bottom lip, and his blue eyes follow it.

By now, it’s dark enough that he can get away with flying more easily. You watch him step out onto your balcony and disappear, probably landing outside and walking a few feet before he takes off properly, in the spirit of making sure not to draw any unwanted attention.

You run a hand through your hair as you eye your desk – you should tidy up but you’re too wobbly on your legs now to think of doing any more work. Plus, you want to run yourself a nice, relaxing bath after a day of extortion and disturbing the peace.

You go to grab your milkshake and not with grudging amusement that Homelander swiped it just before he left. Asshole. He took your panties too, though you’re less surprised about that – quite a few pairs have gone missing thanks to him, even if he denied it last time you asked.

With a yawn, you stumble to bed, rather more wobbly on your legs than you were about an hour ago. You’ll be sore tomorrow morning, but it will be well worth it. You’ll lie low for a little while, let everybody get comfortable and let their guards down again, get swept up in whatever new media circus captures their attention. Your plans take time to coordinate and carry out, and you like to make sure it’s something unexpected each time. So, for now, everyone can wait until you’re ready to rock their safe little worlds again.

And with any luck, Homelander will return to rock yours.

[copepods]

playin around with silhouettes

[id: a drawing of c!quackity and c!techno. the style is simplistic, with only the colors red, black, and white. the background is red, and there’s a black silhouette of techno from the side, with his cape billowing behind him. he’s holding a pickaxe, and only the white of his eye is visible. quackity is standing in front of him, colored all red except for his white apron, black hair and eye, and the white handle of the axe he’s holding. his apron is stained with blood, and he’s glancing back at techno with a frown. “hog hunt” is written in thin, messy letters in the top right in white. end id]

[kana-daydreams]

ms. delinquent || sakura | humour | 0.8k

°*:･ᰔeveryone, but sakura, knows you're a girl.

tags: cross-dresser!f!reader. tall!f!reader. gender stereotyping. mild swearing.

wbrk masterlist

The soles of your well-worn black sneakers skid back to a screeching stop; your gakuran, coloured the same and thrown casually over your shoulders, billowing behind you like a cape against rushing wind.  

Further to your left, a chorus of male voices erupts. They bellow your name in exuberant cheer when you manage to dodge, with practised ease, the strong arm that intentionally hurtles a fist towards your face; while others egg on your split-tone haired opponent and junior who continues to throw punch after punch at you across the courtyard of your school— the infamous Furin High. 

“Going soft, already? Don't tell me yer thinkin' about backing out.” Sakura teases with a wide grin when you gather some distance between you both. “Thought you were the second-years’ Top Dog?!” he adds, his predatory grin growing further before he starts sprinting in your direction, lunging at you with a raised fist.

Just like you, Sakura was determined. Determined to find out who was the strongest between you two.

Determined to be the strongest.

He’d posed the challenge of a duel after he witnessed yesterday with his own eyes, you practically eliminate an entire squadron of guys twice your size without a single scratch marking your surprisingly flawless skin. And kept on pestering you the entire day like a petulant child that didn’t get their way, until they did.

Well...it wasn't as if you weren't itching for a fight with the emotionally reactive teen who’d defeated Shishitoren’s second-in-command.

So why not indulge him?

You scoff. "Who said anything about backing out?” Your body twists to the side, evading his punch and you slip behind him, your hand catching a hold of both his wrists. You pin them firmly against his back, then lean down slightly, lips inches away from his right ear. “Huh? Kitty cat.” You drawl and Sakura’s body involuntarily shudders at your warm breath, ticklish against his ear.

Your lips curve into an amused smile as you watch the tip of his ear colour a deep red, before he forces himself free from your grasp.

“D-Don't call me that, y-you creep?!” He springs back, arms up and fingers curled into fists, in defence. 

“Aww, but you're such an easy tease.” You coo, clutching your stomach, unable to stifle your fits of laughter. “It’s cute.”

Sakura growls at your words. “Ain’t nothin’ cute about me! If anyone’s cute, it’s you, pretty boy!” 

His words catch you off-guard, your lips forming a small ‘O’, heat warming at your cheeks. You peer down, bashful from his 'compliment'.  “You think…” You squirm, voice soft almost timid as you raise a shy gaze to look across at him. “You think, I’m cu—” A sudden force barrels into your stomach and you feel as if all the air has been knocked out your lungs.

Your face scrunches and a grunt falls from your frowning lips when you notice the smug look on Sakura's—your assailant—face, your body falling backwards from the force.

“Heh, that’s what you—”

“You asshole!”

Sakura feels a tight grip pull on his shirt, his blue and yellow eyes drawing wide. 

“If I fall—you fall!”

 And he does— directly on top of you.

His head lies buried against your stomach, his nose catching a muted floral scent, both your limbs tangled together.  

Sakura groans and his hands attempt to find purchase to pull himself up. But when they do, they cup something soft…squishy? And definitely not solid ground. 

Your breath hitches. Sakura freezes. Everything and everyone stills—silence.

Sakura feels a shock ripple through his body, and the hairs on his skin standing tall like soldiers. 

He lurches…? Scurries back, seemingly teleporting as far as he can away from you, and points a finger, wiggling it aggressively in your direction. "W-why is t-there a lump of f-fat on your chest?!"

You push yourself up on your elbows, before sitting fully upright. "Why do you think, dumbass?" You mumble, heat fanning lightly across your face.

And when it clicks—your floral scent, your plush chest masked by an oversized white shirt, and the softness of your body underneath him— Sakura’s ready to combust from all the heat burning underneath his skin.

He looks up at you. He looks down back at his deflowered hand and then up at you again, his lips refusing to cease their relentless quiver. “Y-You’re a g-girl?” He swallows thickly, the feeling of the full mound of your boob he'd attempted to use as leverage, still tingling in the palm of his hand.

You confirm his question with a single nod.

"I just...my hand was...it touched—"

"My breast?"

Sakura sucks in a breath, his face growing impossibly more red. He then clears his throat in a futile attempt to collect himself. “...But how? Are you sure you're a woman?" He arches a brow. "T-There must be a mistake. You've always seemed so...so rough. Way to aggressive and so mas—”

Sakura never gets to finish his sentence when his mismatched eyes cross, and he doubles over in pain from the powerful punch that meets him square in the stomach.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[duskymrel]

A Cold Touch

Synopsis: You have been sick for a few weeks and Malleus has been worried sick about you. However, he's pleased to find that you've had a sudden burst of energy! This must mean that you're getting better, right?

Reader is gender neutral and has been married to Malleus for a little over a year.

Tw: death :((

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

Malleus sat at the meeting table, distressed that he had to be here and not by your side. He hated it. He hated it. It showed on his face, too. Everyone at the table felt the sweat beads roll down the napes of their neck under their king’s glower, eager to finish the meeting as soon as they possibly could.

You had been ill for several weeks at this point, and Malleus had been in a constant state of dismay over it. He fretted over you, bringing in every health professional he could from all over the region. Despite his demands, nobody could figure out quite what was wrong with you. They assured him, however, that you would be fine.

That didn’t stop him from worrying.

He felt a buzzing in his head as one of the diplomats from the kingdom beyond his blabbered on. Malleus knew this treaty was important to avoid war, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. Every second he wasn’t by your side was a second you could leave him. A second he wasn’t there to protect you. What if the forehead kiss he gave you before going this morning was the last he ever gave you? It plagued his mind, repeating like a broken record.

Finally, finally, the damned meeting was over. Malleus all but flew out of the meeting room, cape billowing behind him. He took a moment to compose himself outside of your shared room, for he never wanted to show you how troubled he truly was by your illness. It was the principle of the thing. He softly opened the door and entered, but found himself quite taken aback by what he found.

You had gotten out of bed by yourself and had photos scattered around you on the ground. He felt his heart grow lighter and walked over to you, sitting down. You glance up at him and smile brightly, with the energy he was used to seeing. It filled him with relief.        

“Hey, Mal-Mal. How did your meeting go?”

“Awful. I hated every second I wasn’t with you.” You laughed at that, that wonderful laugh that made him love you all the more dearly. The laugh was broken by a coughing fit and Malleus attempted to help you up and put you back in bed, but you waved him off.

“No, no, I’m fine. I feel better than I have in weeks, actually. See, I was just looking through some of my old photos!" Malleus looked at the photos you had laid out and smiled at the fond memories. There were photos from Night Raven, with all of your friends. Grim. Ramshackle. Graduation. He liked the ones from your wedding best. Being coronated after the wedding. The most recent photo was of the two of you celebrating your first anniversary. So many happy memories, so many years of your life laid out in front of you on the floor.

Malleus took your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist. He had taken to doing so recently, as the sickness had made you so cold to the touch, but your wrist remained warm. It reminded him that you were still here, with him. He looked up at you softly.

“I’m glad to see you with so much more energy today, darling. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“...Can I have a kiss?” Oh, who would deny such a simple request? Certainly not he, so he indulged your request and leaned in to give you one.

Malleus’ heart grew heavy as he kissed you, for suddenly he was struck with a foreboding feeling. Why, all at once, did you have all this energy that your illness robbed you of? He felt a chill go up his spine, but he pushed aside his unease. It just meant you were getting better, surely.

You were alive and well, he reminded himself. This was a good thing- he should enjoy it.

“It’s getting late, my love. You really should go to sleep to build up your energy.” Malleus took your hand and gently helped you up. You conceded and allowed him to help you into bed, grumbling a little. He then picked up all your photos and carefully placed them back in your box, just the way you liked it.

Then Malleus crawled into bed next to you and held you in his arms. The two of you talked for a long while, and he was pleased to see how full of energy you were. Perhaps he really was stressed over nothing and the doctors were right. You would be fine.

He didn’t allow himself to fall asleep until you did, something he had done throughout the entirety of your relationship. As his eyes drifted shut, he smiled to himself. You were going to get better.

You were going to be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malleus blinked his eyes open, sunlight peeking through the curtains directly onto his face. He could see outside a bit. It was your favorite kind of morning: sunny, warm, and the sounds of life could be heard outside. Perhaps you might be feeling well enough to go on a walk with him. He closed his eyes again and rolled over to face you.

“Good morning, love.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your wrist, smiling softly. Then his eyes flew open.

Your wrist was cold.

Malleus scrambled up, looking at your face. You looked like you could just be asleep. After all, you looked so incredibly peaceful. You looked paler than usual, but then again you had been pale since you first got sick.

He raised a shaky hand to your nose, but felt…. Nothing. No breath. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest with how hard it was pounding. He could hear nothing but the blood rushing through his ears. He felt for a pulse. Nothing. Laid his head on your chest. Nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

He felt the world tilt. He gripped your shoulders and shook you desperately. He could barely hear his own screaming over the heartbeat in his ears. He shrieked your name so loud that servants burst open the door and rushed in. He paid them no notice. He paid no more notice when Lilia, Silver, and Sebek rushed in.

Malleus held you close to him, crying into your shoulder. His screams echoed through the halls of his palace and sent chills down the backs of those who could hear it. Lilia hesitantly stepped forward, gently laying his hand on Malleus’s shoulder.

“Malleu-”

“EVERYONE OUT.” Lilia flinched back, but nodded to the others. They all left, leaving Malleus alone to clutch onto you.

It felt as though he was being swallowed whole, like the very essence of his being was crashing down upon him. He had been a broken man, and you had taken the time to piece him back together again. The irony of you being the one to break him into smithereens all over again was almost palpable.

You had been Malleus’s rock, his anchor that brought him back to his humanity. But in the end, you became his Achilles' heel.

How long did he sit there, holding you in his arms, begging you to come back to him? He wasn’t sure. But at some point the numbness began to set in, slowly seeping through his veins like poison. An icy grip squeezed Malleus, and he finally had to admit it to himself: you were dead.

Malleus held your lifeless body close, unable to believe that he would never hear you laugh again, never kiss you again, never get to grow old with you. All he could feel was his heart breaking with every passing heartbeat, and for the first time in his long life, he could not summon the will to go on.

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

When was the last time I even wrote anything. 💀

Idk anyways I got the idea from this from a thing my bestie @meltedbuttersblog wrote!! Totally check out their blog btw they're wonderful.

[arc-misadventures]

There’s Something On Your Face

Another day, another dollar, another poorly written news story.

Jaune Arc may have finally landed his dream job at the, Daily Planet. Being able to tell, and explore various stories that help inform people throughout the world. Being able to see, and hear all sort of things. And, being around some of the most talented reporters in the world. It was his dream come true!

But, good gods the people here were illiterate.

Jaune: Haaa… Good lord…

Nora: What’s wrong, Jaune?

Jaune: This place is filled with some of the most talented news reporters in the country, but they all seemingly pose the writing capabilities of an eight grader! Which isn’t all the surprising considering the country’s falling education system…

Nora: Why, what did they spell wrong?

Jaune: Ruby, was writing a report about the ecological damage, Lex Corp has committed in that gas leak we had the other week. And, she wrote: ‘The effects of the ass leak will have unseen effects…’ Ass leak… Good lord…

Nora: Well… it’s where gas leaks emanate from.

Jaune: …

Jaune: You’ve been hanging around, Yang too much. That… that was just horrible.

Nora: She makes worse puns than that, and you know it.

Jaune: True. Speaking of bad puns, where is, Yang?

Nora: I don’t know, maybe she got an exclusive scoop, and had to go report on it again.

Jaune: Yeah, another exclusive scoop…

Jaune turned to look outside, his mind gazing over the familiar high rise landscape before him as a question that had been plaguing him ran amok. That stopped when he saw a green blur fly past followed by a white figure chasing after it.

Jaune: Oh, looks like, Superwoman’s got a dancing partner. Though I don’t think it’s a good dancing partner.

Nora: Wait, what?!

He said this as nonchalantly, and generally uncaring as possible as he saw his coworkers rush to the window to see what was a abuzz.

Jaune had been at the, Daily Planet well before, Superwoman had arrived. He had reported on her first exploits as a hero saving, Metropolis. Had conducted several personal one on one interviews with her. Hell, he had even been saved by her a few times. So seeing her go about doing superhero things like saving the city from an alien invasion, some villain with a massive ego boner, or simply saving some kids kitten stuck in a tree, he had seen it, and written about dozens of times before. It was time that the new blood reported on such stories. Besides, he would know about it all in the end anyway, when he checked up on their atrocious grammar mistakes anyway.

But, as, Jaune looked through the window to see, Superwoman’s white cape billowing in the wind. Her dazzling smile radiating the sky as he blond locks of hair shined seemingly created a halo of light around her. Making her appear like an angel in the sky. He couldn’t help but ask himself the same question he often found himself ask all the time as of later:

Who was it that wore the mask of, Superwoman?

~~~

: Hey, Jaune!

Jaune’s musing from grading more spelling mistakes, and poor grammar was broken when a warm voice freed him from his stupor. He looked up to see violet eyes hidden behind thick black rimmed glasses with a warm welcoming smile he knew all too well.

Jaune: Oh, hello, Yang. Where have you been?

Yang Xiao Long had been working at the, Daily Planet for a few years now, she was a highly skilled reporter with an uncanny ability to always snag the hottest scoop from under your very nose. She also had this odd habit of suddenly disappearing, and reappearing at will. She could have been fired for this if she didn’t keep on bringing such fantastic news stories though.

But, as he looked upon her, her dorky little smile, and her hair tied in its usual ponytail. He could help but wonder how she would look like if she removed those ugly frames of hers, and wore contacts, it was such a shame to hide such a beautiful dace after all.

Yang: Oh catching this juicy story by the docks!

Jaune: The docks? What were you doing around there?

Yang: Oh… I was… I was just out for a jog. That’s all~!

He could help, but quirk an eyebrow at her rather odd remark. They lived in the same building, the docks were on the other side of town from where they lived. And, she found this supposed juicy story on a jog? That didn’t add up.

Jaune: And, the story?

Yang: How, Lex Corp recently bought it, and how a lot of strange items have been coming through. And, an odd amount of stuff like fruit, and vegetables.

Jaune accepted the paper containing, Yang’s story, and put if with pile of stories he need to review. Her brief synopsis sounded ridiculous, but, Lex Corp was a shady place. He was once been given a bag of peanuts by them, and he would swear on his life that whatever he ate that day wasn’t a real peanut.

Jaune: Okay, I’ll give it a look see when I come to it. Need anything else?

Yang: Nope, that’s all.

Jaune: Okay, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to pondering how our education system if failing to teach proper english to people.

Yang: Okay! I’ll be here if you need me.

Jaune watched her, the country girl in the big city seemingly skip her way to her desk to work on what ever new story she had concocted.

She was a nice girl, but she was a little odd. Everyone was a little odd so that wasn’t a huge problem, but their was something especially odd about, Yang. He had several feelings about the girl, he understood, and rationalized them as best he could.

And, yet there was just something he couldn’t pin down about the girl.

~~~

Jaune looked to the clock on the corner of his computer screen, and saw that it had ticked past six o’clock. He looked around the office, and saw that it was only him, and one person left in the office.

He rubbed his eyes as he stood up. He grabbed some paper, and walked over to the last person in the office.

Jaune: Congratulations. You the only person who didn’t piss me off today.

Yang: What?

Yang looked at him confused as he handed her back her news story. She looked at the paper, and the only mark she saw was the stamp that read: ‘Print it.’

Yang: I’m confused.

Jaune: I’ve been reviewing, and fixing everyone’s stories all day, and yours is the only one I didn’t have to fix. To which I thank you.

Yang: Oh, no problem, Jaune! Were there any bad spelling errors you need to fix?

Jaune: Lets see, first off there was, Ruby’s mistake of writing, ‘Ass leak,’ instead of, ‘gas leak.’ Nora got lost on a tangent of talking about pancakes in her story, again. Neptune’s story was supposed to be about the new swimming pool that was built, but he spent most of his time failing to flirt with girls according to, Sun. And, the cherry on top was, Blake’s report on the faunas rights rally. Instead of writing, ‘feline’ she for some reason wrote the worss, ‘peal lime.’

Yang: Pfft-hahahaha!

Yang’s warm laughter was infectious, and brought a smile to his face as he watched her happy smile play across her face.

Jaune: Considering the fact she is a cat faunas she should know what the hell she’s talking about, but nope. Apparently she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

Yang: ‘Peal lime.’ Ha! That’s a good one.

Jaune: Yeah. So thanks for not giving me more work to do for a change.

Yang: Just doing my job, Jaune. Think nothing of it.

Jaune: It’s always nice to have something to relax to. So let me have this one. Okaaaaaaay…?

Jaune’s words began to slur as his head tipped inquisitively to the side as he looked at, Yang’s face. The action made, Yang nervously fidget as he appeared to be looking for something.

Yang: I-Is there something wrong, Jaune?

Jaune: There’s something on your face. Hold still, I’ll get it.

Yang’s face started to become flushed red as, Jaune leaned down, and moved closer to her face. She started stuttering as his hands came closer to closer, and then the unthinkable happened.

Jaune had pulled off her glasses.

Jaune: Ah ha! I got it, there was a disguise on your face, Yang. Or perhaps I should say… Superwoman~!

And, had swiftly, and effortless unmasked her super hero persona.

Yang: H-How… How did you find out…?

Jaune smiled softly at her as he took a seat in the chair across from her. He handed back her glasses to which she rapidly put back on to hide herself so to speak.

Jaune: I thought you’d put up more of a fight, and deny you were, Superwoman. But, to answer your question, I’ve had several reasons to suspect it was you. The fact that when one of you is present, the other has seemingly disappeared. That you seeming always have the scoop, then Superwoman deals with it before the authorities could possibly deal with it. Before we even have the oppression to publish the story. You seemingly have insane reflexes that no normal human with years of experience could develop. And, i know you have super hearing; how else could you have heard where, Mrs. Schnee’s wedding ring fell. You had her back to her, and it fell upon a carpet, I couldn’t hear that, and yet you did. These are all speculative reasonings though, easily can be construed as drawing conclusions. But, do you really want to know how I knew you were, Superwoman?

Yang: H-How…?

Yang was sacred, for the first time since she had dawned on the cape, she was genuinely scared. She knew, Jaune could be highly analytically minded when he wanted to, and that he had this terrifying habit on picking up on the smallest of details. And, if he seduced her secretly identity just by noticing the small details others would pass over, what else had he discovered about her?

Jaune: Your eyes.

Yang: What…?!

Jaune: Your eyes… People may share the same shade of blue, brown, yellow, what ever colour there is. But, they don’t look that same. I remember staring into those violet eyes for the first time, and being mesmerized by how soft of a warm violet they were. Then, I remember when, Superwoman saved me from that weird, Toy Master fellow, I couldn’t help, but notice how beautiful her eyes were. But, I knew this was the first time I saw them, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that I’ve seen them before. And, I finally answered that lingering question that plagued the back of my mind. So, does that answer your question, Superwoman?

Yang: …

Yang: I-I’m not in my costume… Y-Yang’s just fine… And, yeah… that answers my question… Well at least some of them, but yeah…

Yang looked away nervously before starting, Jaune down with a worried expression etched across her face.

Yang: So you know my secret identity… N-Now what…? Are you going to tell the world that, Yang Xiao Long is, Superwoman?

Jaune: No, no I won’t tell anyone.

Yang breathed a sigh of relief that washed away all the fear she had been building up.

Jaune: However, you have to do one thing for me.

And, suddenly all that fear, and dread came rushing back like a tidal wave.

Yang: A-Are you blackmailing me?!

Jaune: Mmm… Kinda, yeah.

Yang was shocked, she saw, Jaune as such a sweet, and caring person, was he really going to blackmail her?!

And, what would he make her do? Steal a vault, break a bridge, kill someone?! What could he possibly…

Jaune: Perchino’s, tomorrow, say five o’clock?

Yang: Eh…?

Yang looked towards this goofballs smiling face as she was utter lost in thought at what he just said. So lost that she honestly took a minute to go from her fear to being blackmailed to realizing what he had just said.

Yang: P-Perchino’s… a-at five…?

Jaune: Does six work better?

Yang: Waitwaitwait! Are you asking me out on a date?!

Jaune: Surprised?

Yang: Honestly, yes. Yes I am… I thought you would tell me to rob a bank for you, or something like that. Not ask me out… o-on a date…

Jaune: Well, if it makes you feel better I’m asking you because I’ve been meaning to for a while now.

Yang: Y-You have?

Jaune: Yeah, it’s just every time I try you’re suddenly gone. But, now I know why. So, since I have you here; Does five, or six o’clock work for you?

Yang: …

Yang: F-Five o’clock…

Jaune: Awesome! Well, it’s late, and I need to get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yang. Don’t stay up too late saving the city! Bye.

And, with that, Jaune was gone, leaving a bewildered, Yang behind.

In the space of five minutes, Jaune Arc had turned her world upside down. He unmasked her effortlessly, twice. He had her quaking her her boots when he said he was going to blackmail her into committing a crime. And, he had asked her out on a date instead.

He had asked her out on a date.

Yang was asked out on a date.

Yang: I have a date tomorrow…

Yang: …

Yang: I have a date tomorrow…?

Yang: …

Yang: I have a date tomorrow!~!

Yang squealed in glee as she realized that her crush had asked her out on a date. This was unbelievable, unforgettable, highly unpredictable, highly…

(Shatter!)

Yang’s exuberance was cut short as she saw that several of the offices windows had been shattered from the high pitch her joyous squeal had made. She looked about the office, before looking back at the window in shock.

Yang: …

Yang: Oh shit…

///

I had a thought the other day: It’s called the Kryptonian AU, who says, Jaune has to be the Kryptonian.

[achaoticeternal]

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you.  word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.  

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat.  His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.  

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…