#killer frost imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dotster001 · 9 months

Text

What kind of parents are they?

Requested by @stygianoir

A/N: as per usual with these long ones, staff and non NRC will be a separate post that I someday make

CW:raising kids, but gn. No talk of whether birthed or adopted

3k follower masterlist

Riddle Rosehearts

1 kid

Riddle is a learn as you go kind of parent. Breaking the chain is hard. It takes generations. He knows that, so was always hesitant to ever raise kids. But with you he thinks he can speed up the process. He is a little strict, you can't win every battle, but he's much more understanding. And that's the difference between him and his mother. If he makes a mistake, or upsets your child, he takes the time to understand and grow from it.

Trey Clover

3-8 kids

He's a jovial father. He's calm but everyone can see he's just so happy to have this life. He's the kind who will quietly sit with the kids to help them with homework, boop their noses with chocolate frosting, tell the worst dad jokes ever that make them laugh so hard they pee, and tucks them in snuggly so "the monsters can't reach them". A soft man, who when he passes, the kids will always remember dad as someone who had a smile for everyone.

Cater Diamond

0-2 kids

Honestly, Cay Cay is one of the ones who if you wanted to have kids, you'd have to try hard to convince him. But for the sake of these HC's, we'll ignore the 0. In all honestly, he starts out incredibly scared and tense. He's worry he'll break the kids. But he slowly gets over it, and becomes the cool dad. The dilf at pta meetings His holiday cards are always the best, he sets up a haunted house for the neighborhood during Halloween, puts on a light show during the winter, dresses the kids in modern fashion…a lot of parents are so jealous. They wouldn't be so jealous if they knew the literal blood sweat and tears he puts into it all though. You need to tell him to calm down from time to time.

Ace Trappolla

2-5 kids

Hybrid of cool dad, and concerning dad. He'll let the kids do pretty much whatever they want, as long as they don't disrespect you. Sure you and your friends can go snowboarding, but your room better be fucking spotless, or you'll be praying to the seven for your soul. Yeah you're friends can- what the fuck do you just say about Y/N? No more friends. You're grounded. You'll have to try your darndest to get him to watch his language. Spoiler alert, he never will.

Deuce Spade

3 kids

Deuce is the kind of dad where, when people asks if he wants to raise a boy or a girl, he says boy. Not because he doesn't want a girl, he's just scared he'll fuck her up on accident with some of his behavioral tendencies. But in the end…he's a girl dad. He raises three girls, whether by birth or adoption, that's just how his luck turns out. And he's the best goddamn girl dad ever. By kid three, he only wants girls, cause how the fuck do you boy dad? Even as the girls get older, he isn't scared of some of the things that come with women. He always carries pads and pain killers. Anytime they need advice on relationships, and societal problems, they know they can go to dad.

Leona Kingscholar

1 kid

The one is a struggle for him. He doesn't want to have a second born who will go through what he did. So only one kid. That's it. He…to his surprise…turns out to be exactly the way Mufasa raises Simba. Stern when necessary, but totally down to rough house and play. He never even thought he had the energy for a kid…turns out he does. He loves his little rat more than life itself, and will do anything to prep him for life so that he can have the things Leona never did.

Ruggie Bucchi

5-8 kids

Teaches his kids early on to be light fingered. Imagine a bunch of hooligans running through the street, and when they're gone, you realize you're wallet is gone too. That's your kids. But only when you're not looking. He's raised them to understand not to snitch on dad. 😒 Otherwise no one can have fun. Other than that, he's a really soft dad. Playing with the kids, good for hugs, cooking meals that get them all their nutrients, but also provide comfort. The moment he can afford it, Ruggie is becoming your perfect little househusband.

Jack Howl

5 kids

He's the kind of dad that outsiders worry is a little cold and distant. But that's not the case. They just don't know how to read him. He has his own language that his kids perfectly understand. Left eyebrow quirked=what do you think you're doing? Right side of mouth quirked up=I'm so proud of you. Left side quirked down=that's not funny. Etc etc. The kids can always count in dad for snuggles if they are sad or have a bad dream. Even if he doesn't always remember to verbalize it, they always know they are loved.

Azul Ashengrotto

He's the one who has every step of his parenting and finances planned, to flawless perfection. And then immediately panics when he realizes you can't plan for everything, children are unpredictable. The first kid that breaks a bone, he's just wanting to go back to his octopus pot. Not to mention if your kids are birthed, he's not prepared for half octomer, half human, kids. He's unprepared, and very scared, but he's a loving dad…even if he seems too tense sometimes.

Jade Leech

1-3

He's the Gomez Adams, raising little Wednesdays. Female and male Wednesdays, but Wednesdays nonetheless. So excited, big smile, happy to be alive with you, and with your kids! Meanwhile the kids are all dark and brooding. It always looks so professional when you all walk up in business attire, Jade smiling, as the kids, also in business attire, have the darkest expressions on their faces.

Floyd Leech

2-15

Rough housing dad. He raises a bunch of chaotic rascals. They're all sweet kids, but damn some of them have so much energy it scares the neighbor parents. Then they'll look over and see eel merman wrestling three of them and laughing like a mad man. He'll bandage them up, and give them kisses on their boo boos, but he won't calm down. Not that he needs to, they don't want him to calm down. Dad's fun!

Kalim al Asim

8-whenever you say to stop 😁

Party dad! He's a, "we rather you tried it at home than with strangers" kinda guy. By the time he is parenting, he's a little better at self control though, so he's willing to be that buffer, and help kid's stop before their limits. Also, he's the kind that pouts if his kids don't say, "I love you" when he drops them somewhere.

Jamil Viper

1-2

Strict dad. Old habits die hard. Or don't at all. You'll have to be self aware if he's too hard on the kids. The thing is, he has only had his freedom for so long, and his kids. The reason he's like this is because he's scared. His kids have a freedom that previous generations of Vipers never had. He doesn't want them to throw it away. He's terrified one misstep and they'll lose everything. You'll have to calm him down sometimes. But the kids, especially the older they get, will understand that this is how dad protects them. He also gives out expensive gifts if he thinks he's taken things a step too far… the kids love that.

Vil Schoenheit

There's no way this man doesn't raise a high achieving, future ex gifted child. So at first, he'll beam with pride as his child produces the best results, grades, magic, appearances, etc. It'll be a bit of a learning curve when the crash hits, and won't understand right away. But once he does, he becomes the biggest advocate for mental health services,and getting kids the care and enrichment they need. He does speeches, runs rallies, becomes the face of any movement that has to do with his kid.

Rook Hunt

Teaches his kids to hunt like wild animals. He's the kind of dad that says, "I'm gonna take the kids out!" And later you find them in the middle of the woods, hiding in the bushes, waiting to jump you in a tickle pile that is inescapable. He's raising wild animals. And yet…somehow…the kids seem normal as they age? At least that's what you see…

Epel Felmier

5-7

Another one who raises hooligans. You have a bunch of freckled, sunburned kids, all who live outdoors and climb trees. But the kids are never alone when they are hooligans. Dad is always in the tree with them.

Idia Shroud

Scared shitless. He's a gentle parent, but, God, is he terrified. Everyone knows it. Anytime the kids get sick, or hurt, or sad, he's always worried it's cause he fucked up in some way. But once he calms down, he's always good at calming them down. He's gentle and understanding…once he gets out of his own head.

Malleus Draconia

1-15

He has to raise the future heir. So on the one hand, he has to be strict. But he makes it clear early on, that there's separation from work and home. Aka, sometimes he is father, king of darkness, and sometimes he is dad, server of applesauce. The kids are smart enough to know the difference, and figure out which Malleus they are talking to.

Lilia Vanrouge

When you and Lilia discuss raising a family together, you aren't expecting Silver to come to you with stories of how he was left in the middle of the woods for training…and if you don't say anything, you're destined to be raising kids with Lilia Vanrouge, delightful scamp, and general to Malleus Draconia's armies. If you have that conversation, you'll be raising kids with Lilia Vanerouge, delightful scamp, and nothing else. Usually. Make sure if he's giggling, and you can't find the kids anywhere, you know exactly where they are.

Silver

1-2

Quiet dad. A lot like Trey. He's soft and gentle, and the kids can count on him for snuggles, whether he's awake or not. A man of few words, but perfect for a lullaby, deep life advice, and snuggles.

Sebek Zigvolt

3-6

Soccer dad. Angrily yelling at his kids when they are subpar, and angrily yelling at other kids when they come for his kids. Fiercely loyal to the end, and to a fault, he will protect his family at all costs, even if he does grump and groan about it the whole time.

2K notes · View notes

rabbitblackx · 10 months

Note

Okay but like imagine Jason and Brahms baking cookies with reader or even like trying to surprise reader by baking cookies for them is just so AJSHFJFJAJS AHHHHHHHH❤️❤️❤️

Baking cookies with Jason and Brahms

Jason Voorhees💖

Jason was just watching you bake cookies from afar one day. As you hummed a little tune and rolled the dough, you offered a kind smile

“Wanna join me, Jacey?”

Jason stood in your kitchen stiff as a board. After a few silent moments, he slowly made his way over. He looked down at the cookie dough and cutters you had strewn across the counter, then back at you

“See, it’s fun. All you gotta do is this.” You said as you grabbed a gingerbread man cutter and pushed it into the dough

Jason tilted his head attentively as you talked him through every little thing you did. He really liked your voice. You gently held up the gingerbread man shaped cookie in your palm with a smile

Jason decided to help you cut out as many cookies you both could with your dough. Some were little men, some were hearts, and some were stars. He enjoyed these simpler activities with you

He left for awhile after that, only trickling back into the kitchen as you were taking the cookies out of the oven. You set the tray on the stove, smiling down at you and Jason’s little creations

“Now we can put frosting on them. Ooh! I wanna make one look like you!” You gasped excitedly. You carefully took one of the gingerbread shaped cookies from the tray. “It’ll be so cute!” You giggled

You and Jason ended up side by side over the counter again. You drew a little hockey mask and green shirt onto your cookie using a piping bag

“Look, look!” You squealed, keen for him to see

Just as you showed Jason the cookie, you noticed the one he was decorating was a person too. It had the same hair colour as you, along with a messy little smile. You placed a hand on your chest, smiling tearfully at the big killer

“Oh, Jason. How cute are you?” You cooed, bringing him in for a hug

He loved yours too

Brahms Heelshire💖

Brahms emerged from the walls to find you making cookie dough in the kitchen. He shyly crept into the room, watching from behind with his hands against his back. As you turned to grab something, you jumped a little in surprise to find him standing there

“Oh! Brahmsy,” you greeted with a breathy laugh. “Hello! I haven’t seen you all day. Whatcha been up to?” You asked

Brahms looked to the floor shyly with a tiny shrug. You smiled at that, snapping your gaze back to your cookie dough for a second

“Well, I’ve been making cookies! Wanna help cut them out?”

Brahms looked up, cautiously stepping over to the counter where you worked. He offered a small nod, before watching you intently. You held up a round cookie cutter, and then pressed it down into the dough. You assumed he had never done this before, so you talked through every step

“You wanna try?” You offered

You held out the round cookie before setting it down into a tray. Brahms nodded again, slowly becoming more comfortable with you. He did just as you, pressing the cutter into the dough. When he didn’t remove the excess, you gently placed your hands on top of his and helped

Brahms’ heart skipped a beat at your warm touch. His skin was practically singing under your palms. He stifled a chill that ran down his spine. Your softness and encouraging words drove him a little bit wild

Brahms soon got the hang of it, and you both cut out fun shapes together. As time went on, he slowly began to talk to you in a hushed, deep voice from behind his mask

After putting the cookies into the oven, you sat in the living room with Brahms. He sat almost too close next to you on the couch, taking in your pretty features. You talked about nothing for a little bit, before he finally took off his mask

As you shared a small yet sweet kiss, the oven timer dinged in the background

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x reader #rab.reads

574 notes · View notes

dayyydr3amm3rr · 5 months

Text

IMAGINE⚠️

Imagine...being in a relationship with Jordan Li and Marie Moreau, and getting into a fight with a student about your relationship

****************

Warnings: Cussing, homophobia, blood, supes going at it with fists and powers, mentions of taking pills (the kind Shetty prescribed Cate...not pills, pills)

Things to Know: Reader is female in this imagine, reader's powers are like Killer Frost's from The Flash. So once the Reader uses her powers, when she speaks, I imagine her voice is sort of layered, like there's more than one person speaking using the same voicebox. And the longer reader uses her powers, the more she looses herself and becomes more like Killer Frost, just like in The Flash, where Caitlin looses control and Killer Frost takes over. The bolded words are reader speaking, but it's more like Killer Frost speaking if that makes sense. Like, her voice doesn't sound like her.

Featuring Marie Moreau

****************

You didn't think. Your ears were ringing. All you heard was her words before your fist went flying towards her face. You could only stare towards your girlfriend whose eyes widened with surprise when she witnessed what you did. You couldn't hear her calling your name as you slid your backpack off your shoulder, letting it fall to the floor as you turned on your heel to face the girl who was sprawled on the floor groaning in pain as she held her cheek in her hand.

Your eyes began to glow a bright icy blue as your hands started gathering a cold mist that danced between your fingers. "Sorry, didn't hear you bitch...what was it you said?" A crowd had begun to form, some people that gathered decided to take out their phones and start recording. The girl who you punched sat up, still holding on to her bruising cheek as she glared at you. "You heard what I said you psycho dyke bitch! I said that it was fucking weird for three people to be fucking each other...unless one of you is the cuck. Are you that much of a fucking freak? You get off on watching people fuck—"

Your fist swung at her face again, this time, a satisfying crack was heard before blood began to spurt out of her nose. Good. You broke it. The girl let out a grunt as her face was knocked to the side, her body following after, hitting the floor hard by the force of your punch. It certainly didn't help that your hand was covered in a cold mist. Due to the freezing temperatures of your knuckles, when they made contact with her warm face, your knuckles left icy burns on her face. "Sorry...I just can't seem to hear you over the sound of you getting your ass kicked."

The crowd around you let out different sounds of amusement, with some laughing, and some "oooing" at the scene in front of them. You didn't pay them any mind. All you were focusing on was defending your lovers. Defending your relationship. "You broke my fucking nose you fucking freak!" The girl almost screeched. She was really glaring now. You tilted your head, smiling slowly as you got ready for a real fight. Marie cussed from behind you. She had to get through to you somehow. She had to stop this. You took a step towards the girl who was still on the floor, your hands out by your sides as the cold mist really began to flow.

The ground was becoming covered with it. The hallway was starting to get cold. Marie quickly took out her pocket knife and cut her palm with it, grunting as she did so. She had to stop you. She looked up at you, your back facing her, she would definitely have to apologize to you later for what she was about to do. She took a deep breath before shooting her hands out towards you. A bloody tendril shot towards your ankle, wrapping around it. You looked down at it in surprise. Marie pulled, expecting her tendril to trip you, cause you to fall to the floor, instead, it broke. The blood that was closest to her splattered on the floor in front of her, but the farther away the tendril was, the less splatter there was, and the more bloosicles that broke on the floor.

The blood that was around your ankle simply fell to the floor in shards, no damage done to you. Your core temp was well below freezing. You froze her blood tendril with ease. Marie watched as you took another step towards the girl before lifting her up by her collar. Marie let out another curse as she pulled out her phone. No one else was going to be of any help. But if there was one person who could help her get through to you, it was your partner. She sent a quick SOS to Jordan, praying that they would hurry. Marie heard you let out a pained cry and looked up in a panic.

She saw you slide a few feet away from her after you had landed on the floor, two small holes in your shirt, smoke coming out of them. But no blood. She looked up and noticed that the girl you had punched twice, now had glowing eyes. They were glowing a bright yellow. Of course the girl you picked a fight with would have a heat related power. "Bitch! That fucking hurt." Your voice was taking on an angry tone now. Jordan needs to hurry the fuck up. Marie couldn't use her powers unless she wanted her blood to freeze. Her powers were useless when it came to stopping you.

"Had to even the playing ground somehow. That reminds me...I need to repay you for my broken nose." The girl's voice was irritating you now. Due to her broken nose, her voice was sounding more higher pitched and nasally. "Good luck with that," you began, eyes glowing brighter, "but I can't wait to put you in your fucking place you fucking homophobic pig..." the girl's eyes glowed a bright yellow in response, and the two of you went at it. You shot icicles and cold blasts her way, she shot heat vision and balls of hot light at you. The crowd had to disburse in order to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.

Jordan didn't know what to expect when they received an SOS from their girlfriend. Usually SOSs from either you or Marie were never really urgent, typically it was because one of you was in the mood and wanted them to join in, or maybe for a food run. But something about this particular SOS had Jordan on edge. There was an ice cube and snowflake emoji right after the SOS. Jordan had an inkling of what the could mean. "Fuck..." Jordan cussed under their breath. Brink was teaching. They were in the middle of a lesson. But fuck. If Marie or you were in trouble...Jordan sprung out of their seat, grabbing their bag before bolting out of the class.

They left behind a surprised Brink and shocked class. Jordan Li never left class early. Jordan ran down the hallway, past lockers and rooms. They were about to pull out their phone to call Marie and ask where she and their girlfriend was when they had to duck out of the way of the flying girl who slammed into the wall before slumping onto the ground. The girl didn't look okay. She was covered in dirt and scratches, blood was caked under her nose and her face had what looked like open sores spread across it. She clothes were ripped in places and the girl was shivering.

Jordan suddenly shivered, feeling very cold all of a sudden. They looked over to find a hole in the wall, it was were the girl had come flying in from. They could see the glowing eyes of their girlfriend on the other side, her hands coming up to touch the sides of the hole, spreading ice across the walls. "Aww, don't pass out yet...I'm not finished with you." That was their girlfriend's voice...but it also wasn't. "Shit..." Jordan breathed out, eyes widening at seeing you creep through the hole, the cold mist still falling between your fingers.

They quickly switch to their other gender, their chest puffing out as they took a stand in between you and the girl you were fighting. "She's had enough Y/n!" Jordan states, keeping their eyes on you as you tilted your head at them. "Y/n isn't here at the moment, but I'll gladly take a message! As for her...she's had enough when I say she's had enough." If it were possible, Jordan would say your eyes glowed brighter at the thought of this girl. They could practically feel your anger towards her. Said girl had weakly pulled herself into a sit-up. Leaning heavily against the wall she had hit, hands spread out in front of her in an act of surrender.

"P-Please...I'm sorry! I didn't-I didn't mean anything I said!" She sniffled. You had tilted your head with a laugh, looking at the girl in disbelief. "Aww how cute. You think I care for your apologies? You should have thought of that before you decided to bad mouth her partners. She didn't even hesitate to let me take control after hearing what you said about them. And I'll be damned if my chance at playing in the sun goes to waste before I'm gone again." You took a threatening step forward, only stopping when Jordan only tilted their head, challenging you.

"Careful lover...she may like you, but I'm not as easily quelled by pretty brown eyes..." Jordan tilted their head at your words, a smirk crossing their face. "You think my eyes are pretty?" "I'll gouge them out with icicles..." Jordan brought their hands up, palms out, to show they weren't a threat. They remained in front of the girl who was barely conscious. They could see rips in your clothes, singed edges indicating this girl had gotten you a few times. Both of you were covered in bruises and blood. Jesus. Jordan and Marie would have their hands full patching you up after this.

Jordan noticed Marie making her way through the hole in the wall, staying quiet as she kept her eyes on you, concern being her main expression. "Y/n...?" Marie's voice caused you to pause, the glow in your eyes flickering in response to her voice. Jordan took notice and knew that you were still in there somewhere. They just had to bring you out. "Y/n...it's time to come back to us now...she's been beaten...she can't take anymore." Jordan said lowly, noticing your eyes flickering again. You blinked a few times, shaking your head as if to clear it, and let out a painful grunt.

The eyes that settled onto Jordan were back to glowing at full power, a harsh glare set into them. "I told you...Y/n isn't here at the moment...she's taking a well deserved nap." You snapped, forming icicles in your hands. Jordan's hands clenched into fists as their eyes trailed down to the sharp objects forming from your hands. "Now step aside. I'd hate to mess up that pretty face of yours." You threatened, grip tightening on the icicles you had formed. Don't hurt them...not them...You twitched slightly...that was her voice...well your voice. In her head. You were trying to gain back control. Your eyes began to flicker again, sometimes fading back to their normal color completely before going back to their icy blue glow.

Marie took your brief distraction to rush forwards and grab a hold of your wrist, flinching slightly at your cold skin. Jordan's eyes widened as they immediately reached out, taking a step forwards. "Marie!" Their voice was loud with panic, unsure of what could happen to her once she got too close to you. Her grip had you spinning to face her, a glare still in your eye as you made eye contact with your other half. The wrist that wasn't grabbed began to raise, icicle gleaming dangerously. Marie however kept calm, she had a glare of her own in her eye. "You could try to hurt me...but you won't." She stated, watching as the glow began to flicker once again.

She could see your hands trembling. "You claim not to like us...but you do." Marie's voice was definitive, almost authoritative. "You may not want to admit it...but you have feelings for me, for Jordan...you like us and you know you do..." Marie could hear the icicles drop and break against the floor. She kept eye contact with you, watching the internal battle for control show in your eyes. "Think about it. If you didn't like us...you wouldn't have defended our relationship. You beat up a girl because she bad mouthed me and Jordan...you defended us...someone who supposedly doesn't like us wouldn't do that."

You jolted, feeling hands wrap around your waist from behind, a head placing themself on your shoulder, short hair ticking your neck. "You had plenty of opportunities to attack me...but you didn't." Jordan had shifted, their voice more feminine and hands smaller on your waist. "It's okay to like us, Frosty." Even though they were serious, their tone held just a bit of teasing on it, a certain lightness to it that had you shaking your head. You were really trying to gain back control now. Marie took your other wrist, shifting her fingers a bit so she could grab a hold of your hands instead. "Sh...She'll put me away again...she'll take those pills and...I'll go to sleep...I don't want to go to sleep..."

Marie and Jordan shared a look. They had no idea you were taking power dampeners. "We'll talk to her..." Marie reassured. "But you have to let her have control again...she probably feels terrible for what she let happen...she needs us right now." Marie said gently, squeezing the hands she was holding. You let out a sigh, eyes barely glowing now. "You promise you'll talk to her? I don't want to go to sleep..." " We'll talk to her. We promise." Jordan spoke up, squeezing your waist gently. At their promise, you closed your eyes, the coldness began to fade away, skin warming back up to a normal temperature. You opened your eyes and they were back to their normal color, no glow in sight.

You leaned back against your partner heavily, the long use of power draining you. Jordan tightened their grip on you, letting you rest against them. "I'm sorry..." you whispered, eyes focusing on Marie, who didn't let go of your hands. Marie shook her head gently. "No need to apologize. You were defending us...it was kind of hot." She teased, giving you a smile. Jordan snorted from over your shoulder, but held you close. "We're going to have to talk about it..." they said, giving Marie a look. "Power dampeners?" They added, tilting their head to look over at you. "That can wait. Right now, she needs rest...and she needs to get to the infirmary...she's not looking too hot." Marie said, looking over to the girl who was currently passed out against the wall.

Author's Note: Part 2 anyone? 😏

#jordan li x reader #Jordan li #gen v imagines #gen v amazon #derek luh #london thor

210 notes · View notes

spinningwebsandtales · 7 months

Text

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

#Jason Voorhees X Reader #Jason Voorhees / Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees Imagine #Friday The 13th Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

135 notes · View notes

aresthelostboy · 8 months

Text

Requests

Rules:

No female reader

No female characters

This is all gay shit

Seriously, I won’t be answering shit like ‘x fem!reader’ or anything

Might do FTM reader

No NSFW

I do poly!couples (from the same fandom)

I do angst, fluff, suggestive, headcannons, imagines, fics and such

Fandoms:

Metal Family (Dee, Glam)

Tokyo Ghoul (Uta, Nishio, Juuzou, Shuu, Ayato)

Twilight (Carlisle, Jasper, Aro, Caius, Marcus, Emmett, Alec)

Vampire Diaries (Damon, Klaus, Elijah, Kol, Finn)

Horror (Predator, Michael, Ghostface (Billy and Stu), Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Deacon Frost, Eric Draven, Leatherface, Pyramid Head, Hannibal, etc.) If the character you want isn’t there, you can always request and find out.

The Boys (Homelander, Black Noir, Lamplighter, The Deep)

Kingsman (Agent Whiskey)

Creepypasta (Jeff the Killer, BEN Drowned, EJ, LJ, Jason the Toymaker, Bloody Painter, Ticci Toby, Candy Pop, etc.) If the character you want isn’t there, you can always request and find out

Resident Evil (Heisenberg, Leon Kennedy)

Spider-Man (Hobie, Pavitr, Miguel)

Call of Duty (Ghost, König)

American Horror Story (James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Tate Langdon, Dandy Mott)

Obey Me (Lucifer, Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Leviathan, Simeon, Diavolo, Barbatos)

Helluva Boss (Moxxie, Blitzø, Stolas, Striker, Fizzaroli, Asmodeus)

Other: Le Chiffre, Howl Pendragon, Jonathan Crane, SCPs, Billy Hargrove, Sally Face…

If a specific character isn’t here, please feel free to ask but be aware that I may either not know the character or dislike writing for them!

129 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 2 months

Text

Cold Shoulder, Warm Heart

Killer Frost x Reader Headcanons

Request by @konstantin609

You’re a member of the infamous Task Force X or the Suicide Squad. Lover to one Caitlyn Snow or as she’s more commonly known Killer Frost.

Wrongly convicted for a crime you didn’t commit, you were sent to Blackgate Prison.

Waller had you transferred to Belle Reve and made you a member of her team.

Your skills include hacking, explosive work, sharpshooting and surprisingly being a good leader to the team.

Snow saved you from being eaten by King Shark on day one. She found you a nice change of pace.

You treated her kindly and as an equal rather than the cat calling or leering that she normally received.

You worked twelve missions together before snow kissed you. Didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating.

Waller lets you two live together in a little house she has on site. It’s better than living in a cell separated from one another.

Caitlyn loves hugging you from behind and zapping you playfully with little blasts of snow.

She loves it when you hold her in your arms while cuddling by the fireplace.

Killer Frost, the woman you can’t live without. Maybe some day you and her will be able to retire from the Suicide Squad.

#killer frost #killer frost x reader #dc comics #dc comics fluff #dc comics imagine #Caitlyn snow #caitlin snow #suicide squad #the suicide squad #Batman assault on Arkham

57 notes · View notes

jagawriterr · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Celtic x (fem! Assasin) Reader Word count: 4545 Warnings: Violence, blood, NSFW (+18 only), unprotected sex, pregnant. A/N: Thank you the request @reiketsunomizunomegami I really like your idea and I tried my best to meets your expectations. Masterlist

You adjusted your swords, gleaming in the sunlight, for the last time, zipped up all possible fasteners on your jacket, and took your first steps on the frozen ground of Antarctica. Realm of eternal ice.

Amidst the harsh winds and heavy snowfalls, one shape lurked slowly across the wasteland. You were walking in heavy snow boots, but the trace of them almost disappeared after a short while. The march continued and you were surrounded only by frost and the whistle of the wind.

Alone.

In a dead world, in a sliding march, step by step. You've studied the map so much that even if you had it with you, it wouldn't do any good in such a wasteland. You don't know how long you marched like that, in silence, you didn't count it, because it didn't matter much. Your energy grew with each step. The feeling of endless emptiness and the sound of the wind in your ears caused your instinct to slowly open up to the surroundings. He gave the impression that he would soon be useful for something. It will put you into a state of numbness, or the desire to chase an unknown threat that you will eventually find.

The toil made no impression on you, because you knew you were close. The closest you've ever come to discovering what you were really called to do. You were a killer, the best at your trade, there was only one reason for being here in this endless icy desert. Killing. It was your only satisfaction, the only way to finally be yourself. You adjusted your swords again, you could feel the snow tearing through them and the whistle of the wind that was blowing hard through your bare, jet-black hair.

The road you took to your destination was arduous. In the land of the eternal day, time lost its meaning. The snow crackled underfoot like the sound of broken bones, and the wind howled like the damned. From time to time you looked around this endless desert covered with eternal snow and did not believe that this journey could be so long and arduous. The sun seemed to shine with redoubled power.

The snow reflected the light, and the wind had no protection against it, and you couldn't really see anything but what you could see right in front of you. You squinted your eyes as you felt the snow invading your eyes, making itself in every crevice of the exposed skin of your face. Despite all this, you had to keep walking. You had to wade through this endless disorder and chaos to finally reach the Ancient Pyramid, which was your goal from the very beginning of your journey.

You were in the middle of the white wasteland, the wind had stopped, the snow glistened reflecting the light of the sun that emerged from behind the storm clouds. The storm had subsided, and only the furious red sun remained on the horizon. It warmed the patches of your face, enveloping you with its light.

Night has come. The gale returned with it, and again the ice crystals stormed every crevice of your costume. The howling came back and became even more twisted, surrounding you on all sides and getting closer all the time. You felt like it was playing with you. An indescribable clatter of primal instinct fused into a powerful parody of something beyond the human imagination.

It couldn't be the cry of an entity known to nature, the whistles of the whipping wind only reinforced the unreal feeling that drove you insane. The awareness that it was close made your vigilance increased. You snapped out of your body's numbness and reached for your swords. The whistle of the wind joined with the whistling of sword blades that cut the space like razor blades. The snow was falling gently on the hilts of the swords you held tightly in your gloved hands.

It spun around as if trying to sense the prey and at the same time trying to surround it. You were stung by that howl, but you didn't buckle under the pressure of different sounds, growls, moans and whistles of the wind rushing into your ears. You were balancing between reason and instinct.

It's that simple. Bend the knees, straighten the blades of the swords, and strike. You were replaying the sequence in your head when you heard the swish again, but closer this time. You felt a tingle on your skin, the blade of one of your swords trembled, you knew that in a moment, he would attack. Your attitude changed, you were alert, despite the gusting wind, the whistle in your ears and the snow falling into your eyes, your instinct sharpened, and your imagination suggested all sorts of shapes of this something that was swirling behind the curtain of snow and ice falling on the frosty ground.

You curled your toes, tightened your grip on the blades of your swords. Your eyes and hearing followed the sounds of the creature that tossed between you and the thickly falling snow. There was a sudden silence, the wind stopped and your body went numb with the cold. You wandered again where consciousness mixed with imagination, for just one moment. And it only took a moment.

He hit you hard. You didn't have time to dodge when his body pressed against you and sent you falling into a snowdrift. You screamed, but in this dark white desert no one can hear you scream. It's just you and him. The only guests in this icy darkness.

Snow fell into your eyes, you felt an impenetrable cold that was unlike anything you had felt before. You stood up quickly, feeling this was your only chance to finally attack. You were closer to his meaty body than you really thought. You could feel his heavy breathing, the snow bending under his feet. His steps betrayed him, and even though the wind and snow kept you apart, you knew he was there.

Your mind was clear now. You knew exactly where to hit, in the stomach area. It passed through the snow and frost like a shadow, perfectly adapting to its surroundings, testing you, your skills and even your wits and strategy. You didn't betray yourself, with one move your swords passed through the fleshy body, which stopped right in front of you for a split second.

You looked at him, a little in shock maybe a little in disbelief, but you were aware that he was not of this world and that's why you are here. It was your mission that led you to this icy wasteland they call Antarctica. The search finally brought the first harvest. Impaled by your two swords, the xenomorph writhed in agony. The sound of wind and snow was interrupted by a loud clatter from the mouth of the black monster. His jaw moved one last time before giving up the ghost.

***

You were making your way through a hill covered with snow and ice. You stood on a ridge where the glow of the pyramid you were looking for shimmered in iridescent reflections of light. This artifact left by the Ancients saw many things and held many secrets and creatures like the one you fought two days ago.

The feeling that it was all just beginning still haunted you and despite your discipline, you felt a lump in your throat. The sunlight was hitting your eyes with all its force. Despite the cold, you could feel the excitement spreading through your body the closer you got to your goal. The closer you got to the Pyramid, the more agitated you felt and thirsted for more blood. Adrenaline in your body began to buzz, circulate in your veins, your heart began to beat faster, and you breathed faster. You were walking along the fissure towards one of the shores of the stone Pyramid. In the depths of the desert white plain, you saw nothing but a white fluff that gently floated as the wind pressed against it. You shivered as you reached the entrance to the building.

***

It was damp and warm inside, the stone-clad walls took on a dark depth of the room that made you feel uncomfortable. Huge statues flanked the entrance, holding torches that gently illuminated the room. The cold entering the large hall stopped you for a moment. You shivered as you felt someone's presence. You knew that there were more of these creatures and you were aware that they could attack again. You were impressed by them, you didn't think that fighting them would be so exciting and that's why you wanted more of it. More of that adrenaline that was still pounding in your veins. And you even stopped being bothered by the unbearable cold that covered your whole body, from your toes to the very top of your head.

***

Walking along the forked corridors, you remembered the plans of the building, thanks to which you could explore the secrets of underground passages and corridors that led to the deepest places of the pyramid. You heard the murmurs, moans of the whipping wind in the cracks of the icy walls, the howl you heard two days ago was back, it was soft, but with every step you took it came closer and closer to you. They already knew you were here. They felt your presence, the softness of your body, its warmth and vibration.

You felt the ground tremble with each step you took. You reached for your swords, your hands gripping the hilts tightly. At first, you heard only the steady thud of your boots, but with each step you took, you felt that you were falling right into the middle of the battlefield. You saw a bunch of xenomorphs that invariably attacked the powerful stranger.

It was the second the black creature hit you in the side, it was enough to make you tense like a string. Being here, you joined the group of warriors who fought against monsters that wanted to occupy the entire pyramid area, and maybe even spread to the entire continent, or even worse, the entire planet. You've realized this is a war you're already a part of. Your swords did their duty, cutting the fleshy flesh of your enemies to pieces, and yellow gore and guts began to fill the stone floor.

You clenched your jaw and let out a breath. You hit one of them, the clamor spread around, steam billowed from its jaws, and its body and tail thrashed relentlessly as you impaled it on one of your swords. You pressed against him, finally pinning him against the icy wall. With nothing to lose, you struck the final blow that killed the monster.

***

This time it hit him, he doubled over from the hit in the stomach, finally moved and staggered around the hall. He didn't have time to realize that the xenomorph wrapped its tail around his leg and threw it hard on the ground. It clattered against his back, the armor around his chest protecting him. He rolled onto his stomach, knelt, then got up and was knocked to the ground again. With clumsy movements, he got up, but again the monster knocked him to the ground. It took him off the ground a few meters and he fell with a clatter to the cold floor of the hall. The xenomorph's cry of triumph came from his throat, crashing into him with such force that Yautja shot air from the mouth, which was tightly covered by the mask. He tried to roll onto his stomach, he felt pain and cold, and just when he thought it was over, he saw a woman rushing at the monster that wanted to deal the finishing blow. He heard the crack and knew she had snapped him in the middle, saw her kill him in cold blood as she turned to him and stared at him with her unreadable gaze, searching them for some of the empathy that was so characteristic of the human race. He saw nothing in them but emptiness and an icy stare. Again, he felt something grab him by the ankle, as if a steel cable had wrapped around his leg and he was being pulled upward. Then he heard a crack and wondered if it was his bones or if the ground was cracking from being tossed around like a rag doll. He was able to see only the arm, and actually the entire torso, and soon after he lost consciousness.

***

You saw the long tail writhing under the Predator's feet, which finally picked it up and started tossing it around like a doll, you heard the crack of breaking bones. The sight made you open your eyes wide, but not sparing a moment, you ran towards the enemy and hit him with your shoulder, so that he could lose his balance and he fell to the ground. You pressed against him even though he was resisting. You saw the Predator, who lay lifeless on the ground, you felt it was necessary, finally you managed to overcome the thrill of excitement and gave him a fatal blow to the head. There was silence, moans and howls ceased, and the xenomorph's head hit the floor to become your next trophy. "Fuck," you said to yourself as you saw the Predator lying motionless, battered and bruised, bright green blood flowing from his wounds. This time you had no idea what to do, but you certainly wouldn't leave him to his fate

You tried to get him off the ground, but you weren't strong enough to do it. His body was limp, he slowly regained consciousness when you wanted to take his mask off your face out of curiosity. He took your hands in yours, you sucked air into your mouth as you saw him remove the mask from his face by himself to get rid of unnecessary ballast. After a moment you saw him, the little spikes on his lower jaws arranged neatly in a row, from smallest to largest. His small eyes looked at you with a curiosity that has never been as strong as now. Your face was shrouded in a light mist of dew and the steam you exhaled made him see you out of focus, but he was captivated by your beauty. The flawless red of your cheeks, strands of hair unruly coming out from under the hat and jacket.

You helped him up, his body was giving him a hard time. The wounds hurt like hell, but he had to get up to at least try to move. He fell. You supported him, you helped him as best you could, and wanting to help him, you decided to find shelter so that you could heal him. You always had a bandage kit in your jacket pockets that you might be able to cover his wounds with.

After carefully considering which way you needed to go, and finding your way to safety in your memory, you took his arm again and walked slowly towards the nearest fork in the tunnels. Another turn, then right, then left, and right again, and you were finally there. Nobody will find you here.

With each passing minute he felt worse and worse, but you reassured him that you would be able to heal him. You took care of him the best you could. You laid him gently on the ground, leaning against the cold stone wall. His jaws slowly moved to different sounds that you couldn't quite decipher. You looked at his wounds, which were oozing more and more blood. You pulled out all the medical kit you had and began to slowly bandage his wounds.

You gripped his ankle gently, dousing it with hydrogen peroxide and bandaging it, as you do with every other wound on his body. This is the first time you've seen such a strange creature. You'd mistake him for a human in stature, but upon closer inspection his skin was completely different. Strong, thick and brown, slightly mottled in places. At the most sensitive areas of the body, the spots were larger and brighter. His chest moved slowly in time with his heartbeat. He shivered when he felt your hands on his belly. It was velvety to the touch, those parts of his body more delicate than the rest. You took off his shoulder pads, shin guards, plasma cannon, and the remnants of his breastplate. From his mouth seemed to hear a slight scratching, moaning. Despite the fire that was smoldering around you, he was damn cold. You covered him with your thick, down jacket.

Time passed, day after day, and only the moving sun clearly announced the process. A storm was raging outside, the moans and whistling of the wind reaching your ears, tearing through the cracks in the thick walls that shielded you from the world. In the distance, you heard a howl, a steady rumble, moans of slaughtered animals and a loud roar of a plane taking off. You walked to the crack in the wall and looked at the sky, among the blowing frosty wind and snow, you managed to see only white lights shining in the dark sky, shrouded in storm clouds. Their brilliance blinded you, made you feel uncomfortable, and when you looked at your companion you realized that they were his brothers. They gone. They flew off with a boom of unimaginably high notes that made your ears ring. Blood swelled at your temples and you felt a headache. You sat next to him, shrouded in the light glow of a dream that slowly nestled in your mind. You closed your eyes, trying hard not to fall asleep but finally gave up.

You woke up very early, checked his wounds while he was still asleep. You carefully studied his face covered in wrinkles and small spikes. His mandibles moved calmly, his eyes half-closed moved with sleep. And then you saw something more in him. Something special that made you feel incredibly blissful and peaceful. Your senses were failing you in his presence, the awareness that he was here was dizzying. It made you drown in your dreams of him and you knew he felt it too. You saw him open his eyes slowly, look at you and see you take off your thick sweatshirt. Your nipples, slightly purple in their protrusion from the cold, invaded his memory, his eyes flashed. You saw fireflies in his irises, and his pupils dilated quickly, he jumped up suddenly, hissed under the pain that hit him. He saw your breasts so velvety, so perfect, he took them in his hands. You felt the cold of the room and the warmth of his fingers penetrating your folds. Your euphoric body screamed and more, craved that touch.

Moans of the wind mixed with your breath, shrouded in a haze of pleasure and desire for more. More of those caresses, more of his hands caressing your breasts, his liquid thick skin that made you shiver. He snuggled his head into your bare breasts, slipped his tongue out of his jaws and slowly began to lick your nipples hardened with cold and excitement. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. You felt his whole body as his tongue roamed your wet and naked skin. A wave of heat took over your whole body, you moaned with pleasure staring at his fleshy tongue leaving wet traces on your naked skin.

This fire consumed you completely, dragged you into the depths of euphoria and lust. He grabbed you by the waist, exhaling air from his mouth, looked at your ecstatic face and slowly took off the rest of the clothes that remained on your body. You knew it was going to end like this, the atmosphere in the room was getting so thick you could cut it with a knife, and you and he slowly felt the irresistible need to get to know each other. Your feelings changed for him, and the tenderness he greeted you in his arms was like coming home. His calm and steady breathing soothed you, and you were still engulfed by the fire that was forming in your intestines and driving you crazy.

You were naked when he took off the codpiece and the rest of his armor that covered his hips. You looked at him, sitting in front of you and inviting you into a world of pleasure. You sat astride it, your body felt the impenetrable cold that enveloped you all awakening you from the stupor. You leaned against his chest, grabbed his cock and felt a huge wave of excitement as he entered you all. Finally, your body tense like a string let go, you curled your toes, tightened your buttocks and began to move to the tune of your hearts. The wind did not stop whistling between the cracks, and individual snowflakes fell into the room, to melt after a while on the ground or your hot skin.

Your movements slowly got faster, he gripped your buttocks hard and you felt him penetrating you hard with his big and swollen cock. His face expressed it all, light wrinkles accentuating his ecstasy, a soft clicking turned into a loud growl and wheezing. He tightened his grip on your buttocks and began to slowly take the initiative, moving your hips faster and faster. A loud moan escaped your lips and an explosion of euphoria made you feel your folds bursting with the feeling that you were about to explode. Your pussy tightens around his circumference, causing him to thrust into you with increasing force. Tension alternately comes and goes, sweat breaks through the folds of your body and heat spreads all over your insides. Hish's claws dig deeper into your buttocks, you feel the tension build up in your gut and slowly trickle down towards your temple. Your breathing quickens again, the energetic hip movements slow down, become sloppy, and you feel your core fill with ecstasy. You know that this is the moment, this force that is not worth fighting with, but surrender without a fight and stay in this feeling even though you want even more. You feel the orgasm fill your core as your pussy tightens around its circumference, feel the walls of it as it enters and exits without remorse as it finally loses its grip and tightens its grip on your waist, squeezing your body tighter. Leaning against his chest, you feel him filling you with his life-giving juice. The energy slowly leaves you, sits on it, exhaling hot air from your mouth, steam settles on the stone walls of the room, forming small droplets of water.

The fire was dying out and the sun was already over the horizon. You heard a sudden bang and thud, you quickly got up from the ground, dressed and ran out of the room. You didn't expect to find what you saw there, and it was a huge ship that landed near the pyramid, and from it emerged creatures unknown to you. You looked at them more closely as Hish, still slightly limping, approached you. Celtic mumbled something under his breath, pointing at the ship with his finger. He approached one of his kinsmen to report everything that had happened after the last ship left the planet. The Alien Predator looked at you with disapproval, the Other Predators looked at you with contempt in their eyes, and you, adjusting your swords on your back, felt that you had to be careful. They also did not welcome your Predator with enthusiasm, they even rejected it. They were stunned when they discovered what really happened in the pyramid. How much Celtic felt despised and abandoned by his own people could be seen from his very attitude. The helmet hid his face, but you could feel the fumes of resentment towards his companions.

He decided to take you with him and, sparing no time, he dragged you on board the ship, which you flew above the clouds and flew to his home planet. Celtic knew perfectly well that when he really told everything about you and how you killed all the xenomorphs, he would regain the trust of his tribe. In this way, he will regain the respect of his clan, and you will be able to join him by becoming his companion.

You felt subconsciously that what you were doing was not easy, but making Celtic happy was your dream. You've fallen in love with him since you met, you felt like it wasn't possible, but it was, that feeling of emptiness that still haunted you was gone. All that's left is the euphoria of that close-up and the memory you'll never get rid of. The sight of him, when he stunned you, his every move made you feel shivers on your skin. The other you are gone, cold, emotionless, now you are a completely different woman. Just as strong and powerful, but with more feelings and emotions that made you love everything on Celtic's home planet.

You've been here for a year. Your life looks completely different than the one you led on Earth. Here your life was much simpler, you proved yourself worthy of belonging to the clan and you were bound to it. You loved each other more than anything else, and your journeys to distant lands delighted you. You saw the star-studded sky, the nebulae tearing through the void of space, and his hot and naked body making waves of excitement ripple through you.

***

Your big belly has been visible since he left the stack after the last mission. He walked over to you, snuggling into your velvety body. A soft moan escaped his jaws, touched your belly, and looked up at your beaming smile. He knew you were happy, he was so proud of you for proving yourself to the great council, and he loved you like no one else had ever loved before.

The day of the birth was coming. All you could hear in the area was your screams and moans, which shattered the silence to pieces. You were lying on the bed, in front of you was a Yautja woman medic. Your sweaty and wrinkled face was reddened by the intense cramps and fatigue that had let you down suddenly and without warning. You sighed as she told you to push again. The sheets on the bed turned red, your pain was all you felt, and her hands held the head of the slowly emerging baby. Giving birth was the biggest challenge of your life and nothing was like the pain that tore you apart as the babies slowly came out of you one by one. There were four of them. Little bundles that screamed beyond their strength when Di'dta finally placed them next to you. Three gorgeous boys and one beautiful girl were your whole world and you never expected it all to lead to this place. Celtic moved closer to you, your body sticky with sweat, cupped your face and kissed your forehead gently. He looked at your children and smiled at them.

You were family.

#yautja #predator x human #predator x reader #smut #yautja x fem reader #yautja smut #monster fucker #celtic predator

495 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @courtenbae @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

#aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x y/n #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

293 notes · View notes